Magazine isn’t about
Edmonton Music | The Red Cannons ’ on the art of breaking peoples collar bones
Sled Island | The Black Keys Are Assholes & how to raise a sheepdog
Konn Lavery | The Spaghetti Tapes
featuring: the burning streets interrupted flow the strugglefucks micelli
$5 issue 2 september 29, 2012
I have a couple of things I want to say. First off, Iâ€™m personally tired of magazines telling me I can lose weight by eating cupcakes. I mean what kind of person is killing trees to produce garbage of that caliber. Donâ€™t they care about the Polar Bears? Actually that is all. We look forward to you touching our pages. -Void
i’m surround by a bunch
of laeger-ed up, sweaty faces
A hundred of us have been packed into a gardenin g shed that shou ld only hold 20. Bodies are crammed toge ther spilling out & peering through the windows. B.A’s BBQ is in full swing. The audience begins to crave movement as the soun d of Japa nese B mov ie monster surf music hurls from the 4 piece that is Korean Gut. More people push in to catch a glimpse of these surf beasts. Mass head bobbing brea ks out as it is the only sort of movement these cram med quarters will allow. Korean Gut shows no sign of letting up as their allowed set time pass us by.
I stumble out of this poor excuse of a barn in sear ch of water. Instead, I encounter a woman offering to exchange 2 free-range chickens for a place to sleep. It seem s that her perv ious chicken for bed exchange prog ram had fallen through. Although I wou ld love to have these chickens, the logistics of the situation do not add up. Plus the hotel floor I’m sleeping on is not mine to barter with. I decline her 17th century offer and continue on my H2O sear ch. My search leads me to the Republic where a youn g faced two piece has the audience pulsing to their catchy hi-fi sound. I’m taken aback by the sheer musical talen t which seems well beyond their years. I finish my drin k then launch myself into the dancing that is unfolding due to the rhythm vibe of the 2 piece that goes by the nam e of Cannon Bros. Cannon Bros finish their set. I finish my drin k and step out into the night air. I follow the mass hip bicycle riders towa rds the next musical destination
By the time I arrive at the Legion The Bitterweed Draw are full swing into things. With sweat pouring from their faces they are delivering a full on assault of their punk infused blend of countr y music. People are standing on chairs, tables and each other trying to get a better view of The Bitterweed Draw’s musica l onslaught. I’m sudden ly overcome by the fear that at any moment the floor of this veteran building is going to collapse from the weight and stomps of the dancers. The floor holds and The Bitterweed Draw finishes their set to exhausted pleads for more. The push comes & the crowd hurls downstairs to clam a good spot to see The Sadies. The Sadies are solid through and through. The wall to wall jam packed audience is scrambling off each other from the thrill of their music. A push. Stumble. A shove. And I’m part of the mass thrashing about. Screams for more are bouncing off the walls and The Sadies deliver in non-stop succession. All good things must come to an end; it’s back out into the Calgar y night air. I encounter a frazzled brunette bombshell of a lass who seems to know me from an encounter I can’t seem to recall. She informs me film noir style that her bike has gone missing. Being the gentlemen that I am, I boldly inform her I have seen an episode or two of Blues Clues that surely have qualified me to crack the case of the missing bike. It has not. I fail at my role of being Johnny Dollar. My lack of true detective ability has led me to some far-flung corner of Calgar y with no direction home. It looks like I’ll be sleeping outside tonight.
The morning is rough. It is only survived by nursing an over-priced coffee. It takes a while but I find my legs; they carry me towards Broken City for the next musical endeavor
this wonThe room is filled, like every venue at ifying derful festival, wall to wall. A 3 piece is fort alone the stage. What happened next was enough . The to make the trip to Sled Isla nd worthwhile their 3 piece goes by the name of Needles//Pins, ent of music delivers the 16 yea r old excitem r. hea ring your first true pun k recorde Needles//Pins deliver their set in two minute bursts of raw energy in rapid fire success. e deIâ€™m lost in their songs that hav days livered to me to my former ns is of boot stomping. Needles//Pi more be why the guita r will always shing frightening tha n the button pu tops dickweeds from behind their lap
The set finished, the audience hurls themselves outside to regain a sense of reality. I myself wander off, still in a half-mi nded daze of what just happened.
I finally come to as I step into the Palomino to bear witness to a 3 piece being fronted by a wildling dressed in a hat and armed with a guitar, thrashing about delivering songs that sound as if they should be coming from an aged warped vinyl. His name is Travis Bretzer. Heâ€™s from Edmonton & just released an album through Old Ugly. I spot an old friend from across the floor and make my way over.
I’m caught up in the whiskey chat reminiscing with said friend about our failed attempt at being a wedding photography duo. Turns out newlyweds don’t like you drin king all their liquor while trying to charm the skir ts off their bridesmaids. Who wou ld have thought? I notic e the time, let out a curse, finish my drin k, bid a stum bling farewell to my dear old friend & rush towa rds Olym pic Plaza. The clouds are a sour shade of grey as I’m pushing through the crowd of the Feist faithful to rude rem arks and pushes back. I’m thin king to myself outloud “this is nice but it doesn’t match the level of Danny Dangerfi eld of the venues.” The guy besides me gives me an odd nod. One like you might give a hobo on a bus. I try to infor m him that I’m not homeless that I’m in fact a photogra pher but he pushes away. I take this as a sign. I push my way back through the crowd, who had just settled dow n from my last intrusion, in search for something more true . I find it in Cow puncher. Cow puncher has the patr ons of the Palomino stirred into hillbilly frenzy. Beer is splashing. People are stumbling. A full out honky-ton k epidemic has erupted. The music is chugging along. The fren zy intensifies. The whole scenario reeks of whiskey & gasoline. The night is not slow ing dow n. I find myself a coffee and chase it with the cheapest beer I can afford before mak ing the trek back to the legio n to see No Mea ns No. It’s madness. The mass of laeger-ed up music faith ful are trying to cram into the legion. The doors are tryi ng their best to keep them at bay. The venue is well past capacity yet more crash through.
I rope my way to the front of the stage and am trapped. Too ma ny bodies hav e pushed in to move.No Means No takes the stage. I catch a brief look at them before the place erupts to the sound of their firs t chord. Iâ€™m stuck in the void of the fla ilin g Beer and stage div ing bodies rai mass. n dow n on the crowd. No Mea ns No shows no sign of age besides their flesh. The band picks it up fuelled by the madness that is before them. The crowd is more beast tha n human. The ongoing whiskey and coffee drin ks have started to mix into a potentially explosive cocktail of haggard numbness. All signs are pointing towards a series of
bad decisions & self-destruction.
The band finishes. I finish the ny. drink. Itâ€™s one drink too ma towards the exit and throw my night air like a wild animal
. D N E E H T
i’m in a tea house
sipping on steeped mint leaves surrounded by soccer moms sharing in the latest gossip. I’m waiting for Konn Lavery. A young self publishing author who has just put out his first book entitled “ mental damnation.”
The story of a young reptilian named
Krista, whose people have been banished to the underworld by man. She and her friend, Darkwing, fight for survival as their society’s leaders are corrupted by an unnatural illness known as mental damnation.
Now I’m under the impression that all authors sport beards and wear grandma musk cardigans. However Konn looks more like he should be fronting an European Metal band called the “Handsome SS” then writing epic novels.
void: how long have you been working on the project?The origi-
nal concept started in 2007 with a sketch in math class. I got really inspired by it. It was 2008 when I wrote the 1st draft, it took me about 6 months to write. Then life got in the way. I dropped it until last year when I picked it up again by redoing the illustration I did for it. I eventually found an editor. The Editor and I started worked on it for about 8 months and that’s when we where finally able to release part one.void: how do you find getting your stuff out in this monger age of digital? I find it easy… easier anyways as opposed to how it would have been 20 years ago. Now there is so much online you can reach a large audience all around the world.void: but then how do stand out from all the other stuff online?Konn: It’s definitely become a bit of a filter process and thats the problem with a lot of free stuff now. The fact that you don’t have the publisher dictating is great because you can embrace your stuff and get it exposed but it has become such a competition. I think persistence is the biggest thing. void: why did you decide to go the self-publishing route? Konn: Advice. Nothing against publishers but they are definitely behind the times.Book publishers are still in the business mentality of the 1950’s.In this day and age where everything is so easily accessible they aren’t really offering anything unique, the only thing they offer is mass distribution..void: do you have any tips on how to harness the powers of social meida? Konn: Share everything. The moment you sit down and do something for the project Tweet it, Facebook it, take a picture, post it online, just show it and say I’m doing this now for my project.
the sheepdog’s are sort of our home grown canadian heroes. The one crazy success story that shows that sometimes, if you try hard enough and long enough, the universe will give you a shot. It will throw you a bone. It will give you some hope before you die penniless and dirty in a heap of your own deflated dreams. Either way, it’s easy to get behind the little guy success story, especially if he’s your neighbour and actually deserves it. The Sheepdogs were thrust into the spotlight when they won the Rolling Stones Front Cover Contest, giving the almost unknown Saskatchewan band some much needed, and deserved limelight. From there the Sheepdogs were given a lot of opportunities such as touring with the goddamn Black Keys, being treated like rock stars, and being signed to Atlantic Records. It all sounds great right? Well it is. However, The Sheepdogs are approaching a precipice, where they will either tilt forward into rock greatness or be slammed back down on their asses. How many bands come out with that one great song, make the wrong moves and are never heard from again? Like so many, they have to make the next round of decisions very carefully, weighing their options and being careful to conserve their originality and creative control. Enter Patrick Carney. Now I’m assuming the Black Keys are fans of these guys, why else would one of the biggest bands in the world agree to tour with this new band from the middle of nowhere, and then take time from their obviously manic schedule to produce their album.
It’s all very flattering and completely understandable, that a new band with this much carrot dangling in front of them would follow that hook down a mountain.
there is one problem to consider though. the black keys are assholes. Just ask anyone, Patrick Carney in particular. Not that he doesn’t deserve to be an asshole after so many unrecognized albums, but this Black Key looks to be on a bit of an ego power kick. He’s been dissing other bands, criticizing companies, suing everyone, and just kind of being an all around bastard. The problem with working with an asshole is they tend to want things their way or the highway. When working with one of the biggest rock bands in the worlds asshole, I’m sure it can get fairly intimidating and demanding. Maybe not the best move for a green, impressionable new band with everything to lose. Have you heard the Sheepdogs new single on the radio? Its a great song, don’t get me wrong, but almost undeniably similar to Black Keys material. It is almost embarrassingly similar. Almost like this new unique rock band should have took their music in a new unique direction, with a new unique producer. Almost like Patrick Carney is being slightly hypocritical for accusing bands of putting out songs that sound all the same, then producing a new music act to sound indecipherable from his band.
featuring: The Burning Streets Interrupted Flow The Strugglefucks MICELLI
The Spaghetti Tapes tell the tale of a young gunslinger who enters a town caught between two feuding factions. Itâ€™s a tale of love ,action and blood shed. Up to here has been a lie. The Spaghetti Tapes is actually a collection of concert footage from a basement show Void held a while back. You, and who ever else bought or stole this magazine are the only people that will ever see it. Go to the following link to check it out.
the end. for this and more
go to www.voidtv.ca
Special thanks to the Edmonton Art council for their generous support of Void Magazine through their MicroGrant Program. This is issue was put together over a series of early mornings & countless black tea drinks. It was mostly produced to the sounds of: Micelli, Renny Wilson, Needles//Pins, Wilson Pickett, Rocky Mountain Rebel Music, Brother Octopus, Pere Ubu, Alex Vissia, Geoff Berner, Kay There House Builder, The Strugglefucks, as well as late night radio. Special Thanks to: Chad & Amanda Croucher, Adam, Josh, Cafe Tiramisu, our mothers, Wunderbar, Nathaniel & Guylaine Sutton, Grayson, Dave, Boss, Tim & Sue, Tea, Craig Martellica, Shelan Reason, Tammy from Voodoos, Blake Hamer,The Frolics, Nolan Bossert, everyone who purchased the last issue of Void and to all the bands that have come through the studio.