Oh hey, here's a video I made recently for my cousin Val, in which I am super dorky and sing a song about love and technology:

Click to view

Yeah. The lyrics are ( Read more... )

I have vocal dysmorphia. That's the only explanation I can come up with for how I came through years of singing in showers, in cars on late-night drives on empty roads, drunkenly in bars when the band played loud, in my kitchen dancing through the dish washing, and still believed that I was actively terrible to sing. I mean I would hear myself sing ( Read more... )

All this time I thought the lyrics to that Right Said Fred song were

I'm too sexy for this party
the way I'm disco dancing

but it turns out it is no way I'm disco dancing.

I am deeply disappointed. I've always liked that it's the sweet disco dancing moves that push him over the top into being too sexy, you know? Ah well.

So, I was singing this little ditty earlier:

They're dumping the slag over to the steel plant,
dumping the slag in the middle of the night,
they're dumping the slag over to the steel plant,
go back to bed, darling, everything is all right.

Then I started thinking about how funny it is that this is a parody of Peter at the Metre, which is a ( Read more... )

No matter how much I may listen to rock and roll or hip hop or pop or blues or what have you, the music that moves me first, best and always is folk. I grew up listening to Dick Nolan's deep voice singing about moonshine, the sea, sheep stealing, life-long love and squirrels running up people's trouser legs in church. In other words, every part of ( Read more... )

I went down to Cape Breton on the weekend. It was lovely: sunshine, everything, walking on the trails at West Mabou beach, having a Sound Collage Derby with my sisters, playing surrealist games and drawing games, writing "hip-hops", playing auction with my 89-year-old grandma, going to church in Mabou... I wanted it to go on and on.

( An example of a 'hip hop' )