I am a musical tourist…

… and I blame my daughter.

Or is it everyone that travels hundreds of kilometres a year and crosses international borders to see live music? Really, you’d think that living within about thirty minutes of the biggest city in the second-biggest country in the freakin’ world would be an automatic pass to all the bands and all the live music that you’d ever want to see. Yeah … not really true all the time. Sometimes, bands don’t bother to schedule Canadian dates (I’m looking at you fuckers, Warped Tour). Sometimes bands can’t make it across the border past Customs. Those border guards have a pretty long memory when it comes to all those *ahem* youthful indiscretions in a band’s past. But sometimes, you just want to jump in the car and drive.

How far is too far? One of the first shows that I ever took my daughter to was about 600 kilometres from home. And then there was that time we drove to the U.S. Gulf Coast — just about 2500 kilometres — for a show that cost us $24 in total for a pair of general admission tickets. Maybe when Google Maps tells you that your destination is in a different time zone, you might be traveling a little bit out of the way for the pleasure of your favourite band’s company. If your “music trip” routing will require you to spend more than two consecutive nights in one or more hotel rooms, then it might be that you are traveling a tiny bit too far.

All that aside, there’s only one real question to answer: is what you’re doing fun? Well, you only get one chance to do the really, really stupid shit so…. I guess you know what my advice would be here. See y’all on the barricade.

Who’s your Daddy?

Without music, life would be a mistake.

-Friedrich Nietzsche

What can I say? Everybody likes music, don’t they? When I was growing up, there was always music in my house. What I mean by THAT is that my bedroom was right next to the living room, and every weekend, I got to listen to the extremely, extremely loud reggae, soca, and/or jazz music to which my father and his friends were quite partial. So yes, from a young age, it was good to know that music was going to be about rooms full of loud people and bleeding ear holes. In fact, those are still pretty much the best things about music for me now.

Wait. Let me step back for a second or two, because I’m only three lines into this thing and I’m already completely distracted. Y’all don’t even know who I am, nor what I’m even doing. On the other hand, I probably won’t ever know any of that stuff about most of the folks who wind up reading this, so maybe that’s fair.

Well. What am I gonna write about? Probably about music, parenting, parenting a musician, having an adult kid and how weird that is, among other things. I’m also going to derive a great deal of pleasure in spelling things (like humour, centre, and neighbourhood) in the Canadian fashion. Am I qualified to write authoritatively about any of those things? HELL NO. But welcome to the egalitarian world of the Internet. I’m probably also going to subject y’all to random glimpses of my dad-taste in dad-music. And I might swear. So that’s a thing, too.

What am I gonna write about today? You just saw it. And you know what? Stick around. There’s more to come, and it just might be fun for all of us.