The Soundtrack of SILVER BROWN

Yuletide Standards (Re)done All Metal AF

Like 99.999999999999999314159% of the human race, I can’t stand Christmas music. But a spoonful of metal helps the reindeer shit go down, in the most delightful way. Here’s a more interesting take on a certain Mariah Carey number:

A guy in a Santa costume rocking out? Yes, please…

They should play that shit in the malls, but of course they won’t. This next vid is not a holiday standard per se, but it does feature St. Nick’s Norwegian cousin wandering the streets of New York…

Here’s a couple of more traditional numbers given the symphonic power metal treatment…

…and here’s a tune that should be mandatory at every Christmas party, because Lemmy was a god who walked among men.

Finally, I leave you with a fairly straight cover of one of the more overtly religious Christmas standards performed by Rob Halford. Yes, that Rob Halford. The same Rob Halford who uptight reactionary parents used to accuse of being the siren of Satan way back in the day when all that cockamamie horseshit about backmasking was actually taken seriously (at one point there was even a whole legal case about it, which the reactionary parents thankfully lost). I don’t think it’s even scientifically possible for him to do anything that isn’t metal as fuck.

The Soundtrack of SILVER BROWN

The New Jazz [Part IV]: Crown Lands

Folks, up until about a week and a half ago or so, I was fully convinced rock n’ roll had no more worlds left to conquer. Every conceivable genre and musical concept has been explored within the rock idiom at least once. Even if the results didn’t exactly set the world on fire, it’s still been tried. We’ve heard funk rock. Jazz rock. Blues rock. Punk rock. Latin rock. Soul rock. Reggae rock. Industrial rock. Country rock. All thirty-one flavours of metal up yer ass. We’ve heard several rock operas. We’ve heard rock that borrows heavily from Tchaikovsky, or traditional folk music, or hip hop. We’ve heard rock with a synthesizer as a lead instrument, or three guitars, or two drummers. A band with two bass players? Check. We’ve heard what happens when the usual guitar-bass-drums-and-sometimes-keyboards setup is augmented with timbres not usually found in rock, like a flute, or a bagpipe, or even a didgeridoo. Quirkier still, we’ve also heard rock that does away with the guitar entirely, or uses it sparingly. We’ve heard a whole slew of bands unplugged. We’ve heard them collaborating with symphony orchestras. We’ve also heard this, which most would agree is in a class by itself…



I look at a band like Greta Van Fleet now, and reminisce with amusement how a younger, hipper version of me would have hated them. With every fibre of my being. How dare they commit the ultimate sacrilege by modelling their entire sound on the Mighty Zep! Such was the way of thinking of yours truly at the age of twenty-one. But now the attitude is: Meh. Let the kids rip off Zeppelin if they like. The Hammer of the Gods hasn’t done much in the way of mammoth touring since Bonzo drank himself to death (unless you count that series of records and tours Bob and Pagey did together in the Nineties), and some folks in the know are opining that Bob Plant’s iconic banshee wail ain’t what it used to be due to his advanced years. Hence, it’s arguably refreshing to hear a younger and more vigorous band attempt to take up the mantle, even if their efforts clearly pale in comparison to the original. It’s not like there’s any uncharted territory for a young band to go exploring in…

…or is there?

Before I expand upon that question, let me share with you all an interesting little tidbit about Canada that even most Canadians are dimly aware of. We have our own football league. Gridiron football, the local variant. Ever wonder why there are no NFL teams in Canada? Well, now you know. If hypothetically the NFL tried to put an expansion team in Toronto, such a move would almost certainly cause friction with the existing Toronto Argonauts organization, one of the oldest and most storied franchises of the Canadian Football League. So they never bother with it. Most would agree that the CFL lacks much of the bombast and pageantry of its American counterpart. And it does. But hey, it’s our league. It’s the league all our local teams play in. My heart and soul has been painted and tattooed Bomber Blue since I was but a wee lad. If you have even a passing familiarly with the CFL and its associated lore, you’ll understand what I mean by that.


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Best in the West, bitches! That Grey Cup will be ours for the taking. Many a non-Bomber ass will be soundly kicked this November.

The other night I was watching my Bombers open up a big ol’ can of whoop-ass on their hated arch-rivals, the painfully nauseating Calgary Stampeders (if you think Argos fans are obnoxious, you’ve obviously never been to Calgary). Sometime during the second quarter, it was announced that some band I’ve never heard of was going to be performing during halftime. A band called Crown Lands, hailing from Oshawa, Ontario (one of Toronto’s satellite cities, for those not familiar with the geography). Usually halftime is when I get up to answer nature’s call and help myself to refreshments edible, drinkable and smokable, but I caught a certain vibe from this particular musical act. One that piqued my interest enough to stay tuned.

There are only two guys in this band. Which doesn’t seem so unusual on the surface. Duos have been a part of rock n’ roll since at least the Everly Brothers. But most musical duos hitherto have tended to fall in one of three categories. The first category would encompass the aforementioned Everly Brothers, and involves both performers being vocalists and frontmen. This type of duo functions very much so like a solo act with two people, and as such they frequently need to hire the services of a backup band. The second type is the Pet Shop Boys configuration, where one guy is the singer and the other guy replicates the sound of a backup band with an invariably impressive synthesizer rack, and doesn’t sing. Hip hop duos that consist of an MC and a DJ would be a variant of the Pet Shop Boys concept. You don’t see too many duos of this type used in hard rock contexts, although it’d be interesting to see somebody try. The third type is the White Stripes configuration, which is your basic garage-rock power trio minus a bassist. Probably the most minimalist rock n’ roll lineup there is. One that’s also rarely used, as it can have disastrous results if it’s not done right. Jack White is one of the few who somehow managed to make it work.

I hereby decree that there is now a fourth type of duo. Crown Lands, who are a category unto themselves.

One guy is the drummer. He’s also the lead singer. He sings and plays drums with equal virtuosity. Like Geddy Lee, only on drums. If that’s not cool enough, he’s got a Roger Taylor-esque gong as part of his kit to boot. The other guy is the guitarist. A guitarist with many curiosities among his vast array of pedals, which includes a prominent bass pedal as its centerpiece. During a performance, he plays the guitar parts with his hands and the bass (and synth!) parts with his feet. Like Ray Manzarek, only on guitar. A guitar that emits plenty of otherworldly sounds…



The preceding was the halftime performance in its entirety. Picture quality in that video is wack-ass, but at least it gives you an idea of what I saw. Here’s a slightly better-quality video that shows off more of the guitar player’s pedal rig…



Their music videos don’t blow nearly as much mind as their live performances, but here’s one of them…


 

The Zen of SILVER BROWN

The Man Of My Dreams

I roamed the Canadian wilderness for three years. In a location that’s at least a four hours’ drive from what the modern descendants of the colonists who plundered Turtle Island laughingly refer to as civilization. During that time, I gave burnt offerings to the seasonal solar energies and baptized myself weekly in waters sanctified by beaver urine, and slept under a dreamcatcher. One I created myself. Unfortunately I don’t have any pictures of it, because its strong cosmick aura frustrated my ability to capture it photographically in a manner that would adequately do it justice. But I do have this picture of an artifact from a makeshift temple I constructed somewhere in a nameless corner of the taiga. I had to burn Deep Woods Off for the incense and enclose it in mesh to keep out the skeeters, but it performed its function as a sanctuary…


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Form is emptiness. Emptiness is form.

Then I got bored with all that and moved to London. Not the London, though. A city in Canada, which shares its name with a certain British metropolis. You can tell they didn’t put a lot of thought into the name. They could’ve derived a really badass name that hasn’t been used yet from the native languages spoken in the area. Like Chicago did, or Winnipeg. But no, they had to be all imperialist-snoblike and name it for their beloved capital across the pond. It’s now the fifteenth-largest city in Canada, and probably stuck with the name permanently. I give you a picture of its filthiest street…


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I like to think the dreamcatcher sucked something out of me in those three years. I sensed it when I saw my student card…


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I don’t know if it was the lighting, or the particular way I had my facial hair trimmed at the time, or the fact that I spent the first six months in this unimaginatively-named city living in a Zen commune run by my fairy ganjamother (one of the sweetest women I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting in my life). But there was definitely an aura in the picture. My first thought was: Holy shit! I look like a rock star! A certain rock star with vocal abilities that are either angelic or annoying depending on which critics you believe, who is well known for his pre-performance ritual of meditating in tipis with dreamcatchers. Specifically, this guy…


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