SOUNDS

The Only Song I Ever Shazammed Behind The Wheel

Yeah, you read that right. In my defense, I was travelling on a country road off the main highway where eighteen-wheelers dare not tread and is generally not considered an important economic artery by any stretch (I could’ve just taken the highway to the beach, but where’s the fun in that?). At that particular hour there were no other vehicles in sight, the only sign of non-corvine motile life being the swarm of flies I saw laying their eggs on that dead skunk a few clicks back. So I figured I could probably get away with slowing the vehicle down to a near-stop for the five seconds it would take to unlock my phone and hit the big Shazam button.

Greatest. Invention. Ever.

That song playing on the radio was one I’d never heard before. Couldn’t put my finger on what it was about it that piqued my interest. Perhaps it was the atmospheric quasi-Harrisonian chord progression, or the harmonic interplay between the guitar and vocal lines, or the artful use of what initially sounded to me like the choir setting on a synth (but was probably just plain ol’ backup vocals) towards the end. It certainly wasn’t the main hook, which sounded like an afterthought in the songwriting process, like something one of the band members let his five-year-old kid have a go at writing because he had no more fucks left to give. The inappropriate Frankie Valli impression employed by the lead singer during said hook only increased its Whiskey Tango Foxtrot quotient. But I still had to know what that song was in spite of its warts, and had precious little faith in the likelihood of the on-air talent’s announcement of such after the song was over.

I wouldn’t find out what the song was until after I arrived at the beach, as there was no cellular service in the area I was in when I initially Shazammed it. But once the result came in, it turned out to be an evidently lesser-known hit from a Vancouver quintet I’ve heard of. A band that broke up well before I started growing hair on my nether regions, yet seems to get a significant amount of airplay on this station in particular. Mere days ago I became aware of the fact that the drummer of said band has been dealing with some unfortunate medical issues lately. Not sure if that’s the reasoning, or merely because the program director is a fanboy.


The Journey of SILVER BROWN

Just Beyond a Gross of Cedars: A Visual Novella

Happy Canada Day weekend to all my country(wo)men reading this. If you’re into that sort of thing. Some folks have chosen to forgo celebrating the aforementioned holiday this year, in light of this, this and that, and the who knows how many more like those which haven’t (yet) made headlines. Others never celebrate it any year, because they’ve always seen Canada as an imaginary fantasy land that doesn’t exist outside the collective imagination of the white man. And you know what? It’s all good. Part of what I love about this country is that the practice of fetishizing the state has always been looked upon as weird. Unless hockey is involved in some way, jingoism is just not a part of our culture. Pay no attention to what our opposition leader said recently. A federal election could likely be around the corner, so he’s just peddling outrage and demagoguery in order to score cheap brownie points with the base. Because that’s what conservatives are into these days. Coming up with an actual platform is too hard.

The freedom to create a parodic re-interpretation of the national flag like this one without being labelled a traitor or being threatened with bodily injury by complete strangers is an actual thing in Canada.

Nestled somewhere in that imaginary fantasy land called Canada is a little hideyhole out in the wilderness where I went to get inspired for whatever it is I’m going to write next. It’s a short drive down a side road like this one. With only one lane. So if somebody else is leaving the hideyhole at the same time you arrive, you have to get a bit creative behind the wheel. But it’s well worth the risk.  


The chillest dog I’ve ever seen was there to greet me to the hideyhole. As chill as Canada herself. Wasn’t getting busy sniffing every crotch he could get his nose on. Like a lot of dogs would in a crowd of unfamiliar people. Just lying there, being all chill. Even after getting pet by multiple passersby. I wasn’t sure if he was naturally that chill or if his owner gave him Scooby Snacks an hour before coming to the beach. Didn’t bother to ask.  

Chill as fuck.
Somebody’s off to get more Scooby Snacks.

On the second level is an executive parking lot…

This ain’t my car.

…and when the moon is in the seventh house, the sand is pink…

I’m getting a hankerin’ for Baskin-Robbins for some strange reason.

Maybe it’s the same tidal forces that create that gnarly sand dune effect at the bottom of the lake…

The sun totally photobombed this pic.

…or maybe it was from whatever witchly magnetic energies are emanating from this thing…

…but somewhere along the way there, I ran over some huge industrial projectile that must’ve fallen of somebody’s truck, and ended up with this…

Fortunately some merrie elfin creature came out of the woods to lend me his tire compressor, so I could inflate the tire just enough to go back to wherever it is I’m hanging my hat at the moment. Which is somewhere down this road…


Flat tire aside, the only downside to this place is that if you suddenly have to drop the kids off at the pool, you have to do it like the bears do it, and I don’t mean the Charmin bears either…

…but the positives far outweigh the negatives, for sure. There’s a few literary ideas to come out of a stately-looking outhouse that nobody can actually use.

While floating in that exquisite emerald green water (which I would have taken a picture of if I wasn’t paranoid about dropping my phone in the lake) I saw a cloud formation that looked like a colossal larval entity with a face that vaguely resembled that of one of the minor characters from The Empire Strikes Back

This guy, specifically.

SOUNDS

The Car Radio USB Port

Being able to plug five hundred gigabytes into a car. Is the greatest non-sexual feeling in the world. At least it is for now, until I inevitably get bored with it.