Happy Canada Day, Eh

Two Songs

Our beloved tuxedo cat Sitka P. Coldfoot (named after not one, but two places in Alaska) passed away suddenly and unexpectedly last Tuesday at the far-too-young age of 11 1/2.

He had a huge personality, loved playing fetch with his toy mice, meowing along at rhythmically appropriate spots when anyone sang, staring down the birds on the patio, kneading us, taking baths (except for the rinse cycle), watching TV with us (especially dog TV), and meowing, urping, and chirping at us whenever we'd talk to him.



Sitka was a rescue kitty who had over 2000 friends on MySpace (back when that was a thing). He was smart enough to figure out that doorknobs were key to opening closed doors (but not evolved enough to have the opposable thumbs he needed to open the doors). He listened when I talked to him and was the first to come and comfort anyone who was sad.

He loved just being in the same room with us and helped us taught us all kinds of lessons about life and love.

He once saved the life of a turtle and would demand that we pay the "belly toll" before we could go upstairs to the living room.

He made sure we knew he loved us with all his heart and soul.

He was a gigantic personality in a small body and the hole he left behind can only be filled by the memory of how much we loved him and how much he loved us.

I liked to say that getting him to pose like that was easy, it was the teaching him how to read part that was hard.



Godspeed, little guy. I love you more than I can put into words.

Left and Leaving

Wish I had a socket set to dismantle this morning

In a lot of the best songs by the Weakerthans, melancholy and hopefulness engage in a battle of wills.

The longing drips from the songs, enhanced by clever wordplay and a point of view that combines the best of world-weariness and childlike creativity.

Who among us hasn't sometime wanted to go to construction sites and tape notes to heavy machinery saying "We hope you get to be happy some time."

Or:

We've got a lot of time
Or maybe we don't
But I'd like to think so
So let me pretend

So this morning, as the fog lingers on the mountains surrounding Anchorage, and the sunlight reflects white and blue off the cold peaks, I heard this song, melted into the music of the saw... and had to share it.

The 8-Minute Story

A Spectre's Haunting Albert Street (Not exactly music, but...)

(This is going to be a bit vague -- sorry.)

A while back, I was driving and listening to the radio.

A woman came on as a guest on a talk show. It's a woman you might know -- and if you think she's a bit of a ditz, I wouldn't disagree.

But she had this amazing story to tell. A story about personal history, bravery, redemption, and secrets. All true. And all something she realized very late, but happily just in time.

The story resonated deeply with me. It was so powerful that I had to pull over to the side of the road to listen. And by the end I was shaking and sobbing.

And she had written a book. About the story.

So I thought that if the story could move me like that, the entire book must be 100 times as moving.

And then yesterday I got the book.

And it's... well... to be blunt, horrible.

The story is in there. And the parts that were moving on the radio are still stark and amazing.

But the writing is awful. The woman keeps inserting herself and making the story more melodramatic instead of trusting the power of the events. What was simple in 8 minutes over the air becomes clunky and cliched over the course of 300-and-some pages.

And I finished the book quickly and felt puzzled and upset.

Because I can't tell how much is the ditzy author's fault... and how much is because some stories really only should be 8 minutes long.

Top Ten Facts About the Weakerthans

Leaning on this broken fence between past and present tense.

The Weakerthans, whom I've mentioned here and here, performed last night in L.A. Much of the crowd sang along for good portions of the band's 100-minute set, which reminded me again of the sheer power and joy of great music played well.

In honor of the show, here's a list of my 10 favorite facts about the Weakerthans:


10. Head Weakerthan John K. Samson is the Seth Green of Canadian Rock. While his bandmates jump around like goofy and gleeful teenagers doing ironic impressions of arena rock moves, he stands still, vaguely amused by the chaos swirling around him (like Oz waiting to tell Giles and Buffy that he's really the one in charge of the Scooby Gang).

9. It's hard not to love a four-piece band that tours with a fifth musician who plays keyboards, guitars, and trumpet.

8. Their Spring 2009 tour was called the "Rolling Tundra Revue."

7. Their song "Aside" was the third-best thing about the movie Wedding Crashers. (Here's a taste, in a fan-produced video that's gotten nearly 150,000 hits.)


6. The band's second album Left and Leaving was voted the 6th best Canadian album of all time (behind two Neil Young albums, and one each by Broken Social Scene, Sloan, and Joni Mitchell. Their third album is even better. And the latest one is even better than that.

5. They have written the first (and perhaps only) great rock song about curling:


4. Samson collaborated with Inuit throat singer Nikki Komaksiutiksak on a song called "Keewatin Arctic" for Canada's "Record of the Week" club where musicians from different backgrounds are put together semi-randomly and given one evening to right and record a song, which is mixed and made available for download that same night. Hear (or buy) "Keewatin Arctic" here.

3. Crowds around the world will sing along to any song that has a simple, memorable chorus, like the one in "One Great City": "I hate Winnipeg" (with Londoners happily singing in this video).

2. The "Civil Twilight" video, which I've posted before, is shot in one continuous take. A penguin (although perhaps not the same one who taught Samson French in the song "Our Retired Explorer") makes a cameo as one of the bus riders.

1. There's nothing quite like crowding with hundreds of people in a small Hollywood club on a day when it's 105 degrees (but a dry 105 degrees) to hear a Canadian band singing songs about winter in the Great North. Good thing Los Angeles is an irony-free zone (with great air conditioning).

Slipping Through the Cracks of Possibilities

This part of the day bewilders me.

The light of day is for working. Accomplishments. Getting things done.

Night is a time for unwinding. Romance. The thrill of the hunt.

The times between are where possibilities blur together. It's not quite light, not yet dark. Between the certainty of the day and the nagging doubt of night is a window of opportunity where plans are hatched. Schemes are born. Ideas emerge that would never work in daylight and could never fly at night.

And the tail-chasing. Analyzing endings and beginnings. Replaying it all to try to come up with a different result.

Between the sunset and certified darkness
Dusk comes on and I follow
The exhaust from memory up to the end

Civil twilight, that period after sundown where there's still enough light to see, is where possibilities live. Between the certainties of day and night, we can slip between worlds. Make real changes. Move forward in ways that are hard to imagine.

Couple that with a change in seasons and you've really got something. An opportunity. A period of immense challenge and confusion.

Those periods are scary as hell. Filled with doubt. And simultaneously the most hopeless and hopeful parts of life. (Link for Gmail subscribers).

Plea for a Cat Named Spot

Like most stories, this one starts with a song.

Actually two songs.

The Weakerthans, a fantastic Canadian band from Winnipeg (which as you know is the capital of Manitoba), has spent the last few years creating a library of smart, inventive power pop songs.

My first exposure to the Weakerthans was "Plea From a Cat Named Virtue" (download it for free here), an amazing song about a depressed cat-owner (told from the perspective of the cat).

As a new cat owner (and someone who frankly always preferred dogs), I got a lot of insight into my cat's inner life from this song. Before long, I'd completely bonded with my cat (and not just because he has thousands of MySpace friends -- now including Neko Case -- and gets emails from my favorite Icelandic bands). Of course, it helps that Sitka is a tuxedo cat who has a lot of doglike traits (he likes baths, riding in cars, playing fetch, etc.) And, like Virtue the Cat, Sitka has a lot of insight into the human condition:

All you ever want to do is drink and watch TV,
And frankly that thing doesn't really interest me.
I swear I'm going to bite you hard and taste your tinny blood
If you don't stop the self-defeating lies you've been repeating
Since the day you brought me home.
I know you're strong.

A few months ago, I started seeing signs in my neighborhood. Small signs on telephone polls and larger signs -- all laminated so they'd still show up in the rain and all featuring a photo of a cat who looked almost exactly like Sitka. The signs were missing-cat posters for a cat named Spot. And he was exactly Sitka's age.

You could almost hear the agony and fear of Spot's owners in the signs. So I went out looking for him. Around some of the construction sites in the neighborhood. In bushes. Up and down some of the streets. And when I came home, I told Sitka how upset I'd be if he ever ran away.

Judging from the posters, Spot's different from Sitka -- he's an outdoor cat (who apparently was comfortable wandering into apartments around the neighborhood). But this time he got out without his collar... and his owners are worried.

Sitka would want me to remind all pet owners to have their pets microchipped -- and to make sure they always wear their collars (even if they're indoor pets). Sitka even said he'd gladly give up his favorite toy mouse if it would help Spot make it home safe and sound.

Which brings me back to the Weakerthans, whose latest album Reunion Tour contains a sequel song, again from the point of view of Virtue the Cat. But between "Plea from a Cat Named Virtue" and the new album, I've had a cat for 6 years. Even though my cat is doglike, I've grown to appreciate the cattish parts of his personality as well. So now I can't think of anything sadder than "Virtue the Cat Explains Her Departure" (link for Gmail subscribers):


And as for you, Spot: your humans miss you so much and are so worried and sad. It's time to make your way home... and if you're lost, know that there are people searching for you. So let someone in the neighborhood find you... and bring you home.