Barlow: I Knew Him When...

Someone mentioned the name ‘Barlow’ to me this morning and my mind stumbled back to the early nineties when I was on the air at a radio station in St. Catharines, Ontario. We were presenting a couple of Moxy Fruvous shows at a high school.

The opening act for night-one was a Toronto band called The Gravelberrys featuring Paul Myers.

The next night, The Tom Barlow Band was starting on stage.

Tom Barlow had a bit of a Corey Hart meets David and David means Shawn Mullins vibe. I hope he would take that as a compliment – not so pouty though. His songwriting was clean and crisp. And he liked to have fun with his music. I remember listening to his independent CD thinking that these tunes were catchy. (That’s a compliment too.) I liked the idea that it felt like I was discovering music before anyone else knew it existed so I could say “I knew him when…”

It wasn’t long after those shows that Barlow (he’s just Barlow now) released his self-titled major label debut featuring two top-ten radio hits and garnering three JUNO Award nominations. Once again, Barlow’s way with lyrics and the progression of his songs shone through.

Barlow is still a busy guy. He is probably one of the most successful jam-hosts in Toronto. And he recently released a new album. “Burning Days” is a socially conscious effort and the CD’s first release “Steal Like a Billionaire” reflects the anger that people around the world feel towards apathetic financial institutions.

Barlow continues to tour. He definitely has something to say about the state of the world too – check out his Twitter feed.  And I’m proud to say that I knew him when…

Norah Jones Is Back and She's Brought Friends

There was a time in my life when I use to consume music instead of food. Ironically, when my career (in radio) got too busy or convoluted, 'my' music got lost in my life-mix that was dominated by the tunes I had to play to make a living. The Archies, Anne Murray, Celine Dion, Glass Tiger, Garth Brooks and Craig Ruhnke are currently NOT on my personal playlist. Sorry.



I have sadly not schooled my five year old much in my world of musical misadventure. So through outside osmosis, Abi has unfortunately picked up on her own things including Justin Bieber. (For the longest time, she though he was singing "Baybit baybit baybit whoa!")



She went through a Spice Girls phase (no) thanks to her grandmother and uncle. That was an unfortunate time in all of our lives -- especially since I was getting to the point where I could identify which Spice Girl was singing which lyric.

P

But I am trying to change that. And her education has to start with my re-education. Part of my going-back-to-school means listening to the NPR podcasts for All Songs Considered. My timing is ideal -- especially since the SXSW Festival in Austin has just come and gone.

There is so much new music to explore. And it seems likes genres and musical boundaries and definitions are out the window. Is it alternative? Is it adult contemporary? Is it a hybrid of both with a little jazz and country thrown into the mix?

It doesn't really matter.

All that matters is whether you like it or whether you don't -- and that you can say "Why?"

Just like I can say that I am really looking forward to the release of Norah Jones new album "Little Broken Hearts" May 1. Producer Brian Burton (Danger Mouse) has sprinkled his subtle studio magic on Jones' music. There is a slight 'tinge' to the keyboards and her voice that's 'interesting' -- not distracting. And it still sounds and feels like Norah Jones.



Let the education begin.

Did She Almost Have It All

The autopsy is in. This was a big deal. TMZ streamed the results live online. Smartphone alerts were beeping all around the globe. Tests determined that Whitney Houston died as a result of drowning in her hotel bathroom.

But it’s more complicated than that. It always is. There was cocaine in her system. Not a lot. But the narcotic did affect her heart.

Some say Houston did have it all. She had a chance to do what she loved and she did it well. She found love and had a child. But in the end, she couldn’t hold on to everything that she thought she wanted and deserved.

P.J. O’Rourke once said, “If we're looking for the source of our troubles, we shouldn't test people for drugs, we should test them for stupidity, ignorance, greed and love of power.” No coroner’s report can test for that.

Getting Drunk on Chris Cross

I was sitting in a McDonalds trying not to listen to the conversation between four teenage girls talking about how they can’t get drunk on American beer; when an eighties classic came pouring out of the restaurant’s satellite radio feed like maple syrup on a cold day.

The song was Christopher Cross’ “Sailing.” The tune was a monster winning three Grammys. A couple of years later, Cross even won an Oscar for “Arthur’s Theme.”

But listening to this saccharine slice of GenX’s paralyzed past made me wonder – how many people between 1980 and 1983 lost their virginity to “Sailing takes me away… To where I’ve always heard it… Just the dream and the wind to carry me… Soon I will be free.”

It was an odd thought to have while downing my McDouble and a Shamrock shake. On the other hand, I do have an appreciation for light adult contemporary gold and the remarkably hopeless effects of Old Milwaukee.

Bonjay: Change Your Life -- Swear To God

I'd like to think that our personal life-soundtracks are always evolving. It's easy to listen back to the music we liked or loved and say that we remember the time in our lives when this or that happened.

But sometimes we don't recognize those musically defined moments until they become a memory. And those moments don't have to be big. They can just be... moments. Hearing a new favourite song on the radio when you are brushing your teeth in the morning. Or something that sort of sicks with you while you're sitting on the bus.

I was listening to Grant Lawrence's podcast from CBC Radio 3 celebrating International Women's Day. He was playing an incredibly wonderful and eclectic mix of Canadian artists to celebrate the day -- everyone from Sarah Harmer to Emily Haines of Metric.

But when Alanna Stuart and Bonjay's "Gimmee Gimmee" came ripping through my earbuds, I literally stopped everything I was doing just to listen.



Like the bio suggests, you can't lock this music into a stale genre. "They are unencumbered by the restrictions of style and attitude." I like that line. That says so much about the song and the woman who stands upfront with this group.

Alanna Stuart has a refined rawness in her voice that is refreshing and driving. And the music makes you want to move -- even if you are stuck on a bus in the middle of downtown Vancouver.

Daydream Believer -- Davy Jones -- Dead at 66

The Monkees were a major part of my pop culture upbringing and an early introduction to rock and roll for so many Generation-X’rs. I would rush home from St. Patrick’s Separate School at the end of the day just to see the Pre-Fab Four’s show. And even though I personally was a Mickey Dolenz fan, Davy Jones owned the hearts of the group’s female fan base.

Davy Jones passed away this morning. He suffered a heart attack in Florida. He was 66.

I remember my father mocking me and questioning why I liked the show and the music. It was clear from the beginning that inspiration for The Monkees was born from the fanatical success of The Beatles – and that The Monkees were ‘cast’ in their roles as members of a band. In the sixties, there was little appreciation for their music by the industry – partially because Jones and Dolenz along with Michael Nesmith and Peter Tork had little to no control over the music. That would change.



Nesmith and Tork were musicians. Jones, like Dolenz, was predominantly an actor. Born in London, young Davy Jones appeared on Coronation Street and played Dodger in a stage presentation of Oliver before beating out the likes of Danny Hutton (Three Dog Night) and Harry Nilsson for roles in the show. (Steven Stills was cast in ‘The Monkees’ but dropped out when he discovered he would have to sign over the rights to all of his songs – a lesson he learned… from The Beatles!)

Dolenz was the funny one. Tork the simple one. Nesmith was the leader. And Jones was the sweet one – the sometimes lead singer (they all took turns) that Marcia Brady and the rest of the world wanted to hug and kiss.

You could never underestimate the popularity of Davy Jones and The Monkees. They are the reason why English musician David Robert Jones had to change his name to David Bowie. And to be frank, the fanaticism that followed Davy Jones around was just as poignant as that of The Beatles, The Rolling Stones and other artists of that era.

What made Jones so endearing for me was his sense of humour and his obvious appreciation for his fame. Watch 1995’s big screen adaption of The Brady Bunch Movie. Like her Maureen McCormick counterpart, Christine Taylor’s Marcia also succeeds in getting Jones to perform at a school dance. But this is nearly thirty years after his pseudo 15-minutes of fame. And Jones plays the role just that way as Marcia’s middle-aged teachers rush the stage – all female of course.



A couple final thoughts:

A friend of mind had a band in the eighties. One of their signature songs was an almost punk version of “(I’m Not Your) Stepping Stone.” Great song. Great cover of the song. He wasn’t the only one to try this:



It shocked me a little when I heard that Davy Jones had passed away. Again, your own mortality kicks in. It’s a piece of my childhood gone.

Jones would have been 67 this year. My Dad turns 67 in two weeks. I’m not sure what reality is walloping me over the head more – the fact that he was still relatively young and very active (he’s just done a show in New York two weeks ago) or that he was the same age as my Father when he was driving around in that really cool Monkee-mobile cruising up and down Hollywood Boulevard. I wanted to be there too.

How Will I Know – Whitney Houston – Dead at 48.

I don’t know if there was ever a time when I thought listening to Whitney Houston was cool. In the eighties, her music and her videos were the essence of pop. And for a young man growing up with hair that was a little too long exploring everything from Springsteen to Def Leppard, Houstin wasn’t on my musical roadmap.

It was reported today that the singer died. She was only 48-years-old.

Only 48. Certainly the latter part of her life stole the spotlight from what was an impressive career. Her torrid relationship with Bobby Brown, her reported drug use and consequent abuse, and the questionable decline of the state of one of the most powerful voices in music – it all became almost more listenable than her music.

It’s always a shame when someone so young and so talented dies. But a couple of things flew through my mind as my smartphone sung out a tone telling me and the world that she was gone.

First she was labelled by the press as the Queen of Pop. The King of Pop was dead. Now, the Queen. Sadness revisited.

Second, she was only 48-years-old. Two-and-a-half years older than me. That’s it.

Mortality is the kind of thing that has the power to stop you in your proverbial tracks and make you think about where you’ve been and where you want to be. After all, she was just two-and-a-half years older than me when she was at the height of her fame. While she was ruling the world, I… wasn’t.

She sort of did rule the world, didn’t she? And she proved that she was more than just another pretty voice with a pretty face. Kevin Costner’s stone-cold stare aside, she really held her own acting-wise in ‘The Bodyguard.’

But eventually she would become fodder for Perez and The Soup; and her fame would eventually become infamy.

Remember her how you will – but remember her. Hell, I dare you to forget.