How Stupid is the World?
Let's find out.
That's Why There Was An Idiot In 1-900-Idiot-Savant.
Smart ass answers for a whole new generation.
A Joke Of You And Me.
Joyous realizations of life on easy street.
TIMING IS EVERYTHING.
There is no high like this high. You scour the drug stores, spending your twilight hours bumping into like minded souls who want only to find something that works faster. The morning slides sloppily into frame each day, as if it were poorly drawn on some warped overhead projector. And all things, instead of themselves, represented by their particles and the symbols used to make them easy. There's no one in the bullpen, so you will finish this without the possibility of relief. It's just you, all alone up on that hill. Just you, your tunnel vision, and the executioner holding the bat at the other end. Every time you wind-up he gets further away, the ball gets heavier, the air gets thin. Every time you look over your shoulder everyone's disappeared. I have been wondering about it. I have been sitting in the isles eyeballing the components, wondering what's to mix and what's not to. Surely something must work. Surely the whole world does not sleep to spite a pitiful few. I have been wondering about many things. I have been thinking of you.
We two are here on this island. We two, despite our lack of smarts, should have known better. Lost of us, we will struggle to find a way to escape this. Perhaps we will find it. There is no high like this high. I am better for having been here. The question is you.
Thanks for the year.
How Stupid The World?
(Random exerts from mail received at firstname.lastname@example.org - July, 2000)
You will burn in hell for your blasphemy. Jesus loves all people but I am afraid that he will never love you.
I just spent the last couple of hours reading your manifestos. You make no sense. You should try reading some good books to get an idea of what people want to read. Like Danielle Steele books.
Dear Mr. Good. You are a loud mouth and should be ashamed of not loving Canada. I assume that you have a problem with Canada since you didn't bother to even go and pick up your juno awards at the junos. Canadians are supposed to be known for being polite but you just give Canadians a bad name. I used to like your band a lot but won't listen to your cd's anymore because of your attitude. You should remember that bands need people to buy their records and that it is not in your best interest to make them angry.
PS: Ian is hot.
Why don't you just shut up about things you don't know anything about. Our Lady Peace is an excellent band and much more talented than you'll ever be. You haven't put out a good cd since Under The Table & Dreaming anyway.
To be honest, I really don't miss it much. I find that I have more time to blaspheme this way.
That's Why The Was An Idiot In 1-900-Idiot Savant.
There have been a multitude of questions over the past year about a great many things. I discontinued 1-900-Idiot Savant because most of the questions that I was being asked were either redundant or pointless. Up until the point that I had my e-mail address terminated, I continued to receive a variety of questions and pleas to bring back 1-900-Idiot-Savant. This being the anniversary Manifesto, how can I say no.
Matt. My name is Kim. I've been a fan of yours since last of the ghetto astronauts and I live in Regina. I was at the show where you were hit by that shoe last week at Buffalo Days and I think you had every right to leave. I was wondering about everything else that went on that day and about what that girl said who was interviewed by the newspaper. I'm sure a lot of people are wondering about it so maybe you should answer me in the manifesto or somewhere else on the web-site. I realize the chances of getting an answer are remote but I'm sure everyone would appreciate it. Thanks.
I have kept my mouth shut about this and for good reason. You could say that almost everything about that day was fucked from the get go, so its conclusion didn't come as a big surprise to me. I will answer this question for Kim, and everyone else who was either at that show or has been wondering what went on, simply because I feel that the bands side of the story should be told in a medium that cannot be edited or tampered with. The press in this country are starved for anything that they can inflate. This summers happenings should have proved that to you in spades.Where can I get a copy of Low-Fi B-Sides?
I arrived at the grounds in the early afternoon. I was told that the field there was quite large and was looking forward to kicking the football around. So Rich and I spent a great deal of the afternoon hanging about backstage working on various things and punting the ball around from time to time. I also went to a nearby chipping contest and spent some time whacking some golf balls about.
I should start by explaining a few things before I get into this though. Due to the fact that we flew in to Regina from Vancouver, and were leaving the next day for Toronto, we decided not to bring our usual security person with us. It was decided that, since we would only be there for a day, it would be a waste of money to have someone fly out from Toronto just to fly back again the following morning. So Ken, our sound man of five years, did his best to balance both duties. Now, some of you might think it silly that we would need someone with us in a security roll. I know, I find it weird as well. I always thought that only people like Madonna would have security people, but it becomes an unfortunate fact of life when people start constantly approaching you in airports and restaurants when you're on the road. I have, in the past year, had several problems with people showing up at my home as well that weren't exactly 'all there' if you know what I mean, so it's not the worst idea in the world to have someone for your peace of mind if nothing else. But that particular day we were without. On a side note, it is also our security persons job to meet with local security and go over things with them about the concert and the bands movements off stage. This did not occur in Regina either.
So, after we spent the afternoon fucking around, Chip (the local Universal rep) showed up and took Dave and myself over to the mobile radio trailer to do an interview. And this is where things started to get strange. Of course, knowing me, when I discovered that the station was broadcasting through external speakers that were blaring out onto the midway, the wheels in my head start turning immediately. Hell, there's nothing like a little provocation with loudspeakers. So, to kick off the interview, I started saying things like 'Penthouse', 'Hustler', 'The Devil', and so on. I did so in a very boisterous voice, fully aware of what I was saying and where I was saying it. I also called myself an asshole, something that I'm told also offended some people. Now, had the interview been in Toronto or at home in Vancouver then I highly doubt that anything would have ever been thought of it. Chip was laughing his ass off, as was I. And, as those of you who live in smaller towns know, radio personalities at such stations usually lack the personality part of the radio personality quotient. That's why they're not DJ's in major centers. So I guess what I said offended them. As is usual for me, when I'm in a situation where I've come to realize that whomever is interviewing me isn't particularly any good at it, I do my best to take the ball and run. Maybe it was because I had been bored all day, I don't know. But I decided to have a little fun with it. The following day in the newspaper one of the guys from the radio station painted me as being out of control and completely clueless as to how 'professional musicians' should conduct themselves during interviews. He also went on to say that I was struggling with fame and was young and na´ve. I may be incorrect about this, but everyone in that mobile trailer definitely looked younger than both myself and Dave. And, next to Kim Mitchell, Nazareth, and Trooper, I'm sure I am a handful. To be honest, at the time, I thought nothing of it. The guys from the station seemed like nice guys and nothing negative even remotely crossed my mind whatsoever.
When I left the trailer Ken, who had been waiting outside, immediately started telling me about a girl that had told him she was supposed to have been allowed inside the trailer to film the interview for a student film. Ken, being of sound mind and knowing full well that no one in our camp or at Universal had heard anything about it, told her that she couldn't go in. I shrugged, told him I hadn't heard anything about it either, and went back to the stage to do sound check.
So we start doing sound check. We were half way through Giant when I notice someone standing next to the sound tent with some kind of video camera. They were panning it back and forth slightly, a red light was illuminated. Of course everything beyond five feet is slightly blurry to me so I glanced over at Rich with a perplexed look on my face. He looked out towards the sound tent and that's when we stopped playing. I, being the one with the microphone, started yelling. Why? Because it makes me fucking angry, that's why. We hadn't given anyone permission to film us. Who, in their right mind, figures it's okay to film a band without first attempting to solicit their permission? Just showing up thinking that you'll ask someone if it's all right doesn't cut it. It's absolutely baffling to me to think that this person claims to have been making a student film of some sort but doesn't realize that there are specific ways that such arrangements are made. Anyway, she was quoted as saying that the camera wasn't even on. Well, I'd have given her the benefit of the doubt had we not noticed the red light. She also said that I was so verbally abusive that she feared I would run off stage and attack her. Let me say this very directly. Had it been my intention to do so, I would have saved my voice, walked across that field, and smacked her upside the head, and that would have been that. It was not my intention to do so, thus I did not. Did I yell? Absolutely. Was I verbally abusive? Absolutely. Do I regret it? Absolutely not. After reading her quotes in the newspaper article about the show I was shocked. Besides being quoted as saying that, according to those nearby, I wasn't even hit by anything, she basically stopped short of saying that we were absolute monsters. Two things: 1) we are absolute monsters 2) why go see a band play that you would go to such great lengths to put down? Nothing better to do I suppose. It seemed to be a common theme that night.
Anyway, we now come to the show itself. Our pre-show evening was kicked off in despicable fashion when one of the event organizers told Dave that, back in the early sixties, he used to play in (and I directly quote) 'one of them nigger bands'. Nice mouth, farm boy. This led us to requesting that the Grand Cyclops of Regina be removed from the back stage area, which basically did not occur prior to us going on. Security both back stage and in front of the stage was a joke. Various people seemed to feel it quite acceptable to simply waltz in to our dressing room for no particular reason whatsoever. The head of security was a lady older than my mother who sat around with her friends smoking like a chimney and drinking coffee. Front of stage security was worse in that they were more concerned with splashing each other with a hose than attempting to catch people coming over the railing. Despite the fact that we had nothing to do with it, I would like to apologize for that barrier. It all but collapsed during the show and might have hurt several people. As I've said, my vision's a little fuzzy without my glasses, so I've only Rich to rely on when it comes to such matters. According to him there were several occasions during the show when he was ready to stop playing because of the number of people coming over it that were landing on their heads. Rock and roll mayhem is one thing. Being paralyzed is another matter altogether. On a side note, one of the promoters told the newspaper the next day that security was excellent. Pal, if that's excellent security then you'd best find another fucking profession.
So we play the show. The set list that night was the same as it had been all summer. The throwing of the shoe occurred at the end of Apparitions, during an elongation of the last line that I've been throwing in there as of late. Apparitions was the second to last song of the performance, just to clarify that for those of you who have heard about this but weren't actually there. We had played almost an entire show, so I don't know where this 'if they would have finished then everything would have been fine' bullshit came from. Now, it might sound a little strange of me to say, but had it occurred during an up tempo number then I probably would have kept going. I can rationalize the action a little better under such circumstances, people at rock shows being as easily wound up as they are. But it happened during a ballad at a moment when the only sound that filled the air was that of my voice. During a song that most people just stand there and listen to because it's the type of song you just stand there and listen to. The first of the two shoes (which were merely two of several dozen thrown that night) missed me by about a foot and a half, flying over my head and to the left of me. That one I saw. But I made the mistake of closing my eyes, as I often do, to sing a part. That's when the second one caught me in the jaw and upper chest. So I finished the line, said goodnight, walked calmly over to my guitar tech Daryl, handed him my guitar, and walked calmly off. There was no storming, no temper tantrum, no nothing. I simply left the stage. It wasn't until a photographer shoved a camera in my face backstage that I became perturbed and confrontational. And, lest I forget, Dave Genn also came to my defense and spoke his now infamous prairie folk line. Once everyone was backstage I filled them in on what had happened, we talked it over, and agreed to call the show. The newspaper also tried to make it sound as if there was a division within the band concerning the matter. It may come as a shock to you, or seem trivial, but we resented that insinuation more than anything else that was said about the incident.
Now, I'll admit that we could have returned to the stage, but you know, I decided then and there that sending a message to concert goers in this country might be a better thing to do. So I took the opportunity. I don't fully understand why I should, while performing music, have to worry about watching for, or dodging, thrown objects. I am neither a soldier nor an athlete in a likeminded sport. I'm a musician. You may think it petty, but what if it had been a bottle or something else that could have caused serious bodily harm? What if it had hit me or someone else in the eyes? Does it take serious injury or the loss of sight to make that kind of behavior unacceptable? Maybe you're stupid enough to actually think that we get paid enough to warrant it. Don't get me wrong, I like to rock as much as the next guy, but let me tell all you so called punk rock kids out there something. I've seen bands like the Dead Kennedys and Bad Brains perform. Bands that were considered extreme in their day, more so that the bullshit that's passed off as puck rock in this day and age. And I never saw half the shit go down at one of those shows that I see at some of ours. So some of you should think about what you're saying before you start waxing poetic about some watered down, second hand, commercialized punk rock attitude that you feel it necessary to project. And if you feel that you absolutely must, then let me clarify something for you. WE'RE NOT A FUCKING PUNK ROCK BAND.
Now I realize that walking off stage that night may result in the loss of some fans. It may mean that some of you might not purchase our next record. That's fine by me. Everyone seems to think that people in this business are so worried about pleasing everyone that we're willing to bend over and take it in the ass. So, if that's your line of thinking, then you can go fuck yourself. Cause I've spent the majority of my life without the graces of money or fame, so it's no big deal to me. I have, on the other hand, come to a compromise of sorts. I'm sure that guys like Edwin (who was hit recently) or Richard Patrick from Filter (who was hit in the face with a water bottle while performing at Edgefest) would be all for it. I like to call it...
The Theory of Accidental Randomness
It's quite simple really. From here on in you can throw whatever you like a the band. But know that I will be keeping an endless supply of baseballs on the drum riser and, every time I'm hit with something, I will pick one up and throw it randomly into the crowd as hard as is possible. It's no secret that whenever something like this occurs people are often quoted as saying - 'why should the actions of one person condemn everyone else?' Well, I happen to agree. So you'll understand when I start throwing baseballs at you with no rhyme or reason as to a target. I will simply wind-up and throw. Because, worked in reverse, the same principles apply. Isn't it strange how all this has gone from watching a band perform songs to something that resembles close quarters combat? Perhaps, if everyone's not contented with how wonderfully untroubled our lives are in this country, they might consider moving to a location where innocent people are shot at for simply trying to get from their houses to the grocery store. I'm sure they'll find life under such circumstances more to their liking. And, as for hack newspaper reporters in one horse towns go, any time you'd like me to drop by and hurl shit at you while you're trying to get your moneys worth out of that matchbook journalism degree of yours, I will be happy to oblige.
I find it unfortunate that getting drunk and acting like supreme idiots seems to be our national pastime. The actions of a few always seem to end up ruining things for everyone besides. So say it loud and with a stupid grin on your face. I AM CANADIAN. And drink up.
I sure hope you're fucking with meMatt. I'm a really big fan of the manifestos but I was wondering something. How come you have to write about dirty things some of the time. Some of your stories are excellent but others make you seem like a sick pig. I'd like to hear your reasons. Diane.
Flies for my garbage can head. If you had to have something to say about yourself at this very moment what would it be and what song (by anyone) best describes you? Erin.
a) Damn it.
b) Tangled Up In Blue by Bob Dylan.
What is 'Loser Anthems'... what's on it... when's it coming out? Craig.
When we recorded the demos for Beautiful Midnight there were several tracks that got the axe during pre-production. One of them was Flashdance II, which was released on the internet earlier this year. The other two tracks were Is Everyone In and My Life As A Circus Clown. Following my throat surgery in January I went to England on holiday for a month and, along with Warne, spent some time remixing the songs in hopes of releasing an EP similar to Lo-Fi B-Sides. I also added a track entitled The Man From Harold Wood which was recorded during the mixing session and attached to the end of Flashdance II due to my disdain for the existing conclusion of that song. We also mastered the disk so that it would appear as one track on CD players. I did this to force people to listen to it as the band intended it to be listened to. I am unable to do it with our usual records, so I though I'd be a prick this one time and have some fun. You can always fast forward through it if it starts pissing you off.When is Black Market Surgery going to come out? Samantha.
Anyway, as to a release date, I'm not quite sure. It's been done for some time now but we thought we'd use it to gap this record and the next. So maybe it'll be out in the late winter or early spring. Beyond that I'm useless to you. You can always complain you know. Try contacting our A&R guy Dave Porter at email@example.com and tell him to hurry the fuck up. (Sorry Porter, but your number was up).
Good question. I've been busy with so many things that all those involved with it haven't had the time to get together and figure it out. When it is done it will consist of every Manifesto up until several months prior to its release, nifty artwork, and perhaps a few surprises. But as to when, well, the sooner the better as far as I'm concerned. I have also decided to change the name of it. I'm gonna call it one of the following:
1 The Big Book Of Mumbo Jumbo.
2 You Are Here. I Know Because I Can See You From Over There.
3 You Want This, Don't You.
4 Coles Notes On Life Itself (Budweiser Girl Edition).
5 The Holy Bible. (though that may have been done already)
6 The Anarchists Guide To Better Lawns & Gardens.
I read somewhere on the internet that you're a manic depressive and you bang your head against walls. Heidi.
Well. If you read it on the internet then it must be true.
How come none of the other guys ever write the manifestos? Ethan.
Well, Ethan, the equation looks a little something like this:What do you think about the whole Napster thing? Dan.
Dave Absolutely despises the internet and thinks everyone on it is full of shit.
Rich Does the world famous Notes From The Road & Notes From The Studio.
Ian Usually works on his side project when he can find the time.
The band: W.W. The album: Rockasutra.
Easy.Stephanie would like to know if I could make a public service announcement. So I will.
"This web site or any portion of this web site may not be reproduced, duplicated, copied, sold, resold, or otherwise exploited for any commercial purpose that is not expressly permitted by Napster."
-The Napster Web Site
"Unauthorized reproduction, copying and rental of this recording is prohibited by law."Strange how all you rocket scientists fail to see the irony in the fact that a lowly university student used you to become a multi-quadrillionaire without producing a god damn thing. The best part about it being that the majority are actually defending it as if civil liberties were at stake. It's great. All I can do is carry a tune and rhyme said with bed and things like that.
-On the back of every LP, EP, CD, Cassette, and 8-track ever produced.
Of the multitudes of people living on the streets in this country, a great many of them also suffer from mental illnesses. Being that we live in a society that really isn't fond of getting its hands dirty, a great many of these people go largely ignored by social services or are simply turned out of hospitals because their conditions do not warrant the money needed to help them. So you should get off your ass and give what you can instead of sending 12 cents a day to Sally Struthers. Because these aren't people a half a world a way. These are people blocks away. No one said changing things was going to be easy. Around here it rarely is.
Well, that's it for this year. If there's something you'd like to know, and don't mind waiting eleven months for the response to appear in next years anniversary manifesto, you can e-mail Rich and he'll pass it along.
Until then, then.
A Joke Of You And Me.
I have been told that I am missed. I have been told that I have become unentertaining in my old age. The difference between these two statements is that the latter is a common one amongst those that come here every month to witness the fire breathing sheep dogs and the gibbons that I have trained in hopes of cornering the trans-continental personal courier market. The first I simply said to myself.
Is there a point to all of this? A question for a million years, a million prior, and for all mankind unanswerable. As for these things, well, I used to believe that the benefit of the doubt was something that hope created simply to humor us into thinking that a commonality existed between all people. Arrogance exists when the presumption of greatness exceeds empathy, transforming the much touted principles of individualism into the creation of solitary existences. Individualism is arrogance in that it creates a void between individuals attempting to bridge the gaps between themselves. To possess uniqueness is useless without first having someone to share it with and, secondly, having the ability to appreciate it in others. But we, as machines, have never been exposed to the factors of a divided existence. Until now, that is. We find ourselves in an era of absolute solitude, a state of being that has transformed individuality into something that no longer possess the qualities of self assurance and self dignity. Instead it is something that is thrown about by the multitudes in an attempt to disguise their need for something altogether terrifying. The realization that others are needed to fill the gaps in themselves. In ages past this realization was quite clearly understood by most. Convenience has seen to it that the human infrastructure will be made to suffer in the wake of its own desire to be more expediently and easily catered to.
We are used. We are a society of used individuals that are coddled by the warm radiation of television and the voyeuristic thrills of cyber space. We exist in a vacuum that has taught our children to complain about the rights of the individual whilst instilling in them the need to consume, to achieve, to dominate. This occurs because we are on top of our game. It occurs because, beyond us, there is nothing save the view. Just the cheap seats to look upon and utilize for our own ends. My running shoes were manufactured in Pakistan by an eleven year old. An eleven year old who supposedly cares for nothing save the companies new air-flow system and whether or not it will help propel me to greatness as I dart from my apartment to my car, late as usual. The na´ve have always believed that simple solutions exist to deter such things in our nature. Whether they be socialistic views or those of the extreme right, most fail to realize that the drug of power is stronger than good intentions. It matters little what you call it - capitalism, socialism, communism, democracy, gods and goddesses. It has been said that absolute power corrupts absolutely. If so, then a little must go a long way. The danger inherent in believing yourself to be beyond corruption is that you must first believe that, given the opportunity, you could do better. This is impossible, of course, as absolute power corrupts absolutely, leaving a little to go a long way. Therefore, realizing that there is nothing to be done about it leaves your skin feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. Try some and you'll agree, there's no better brand than the one that was hand made by Chilean craftsmen from hemp grown on the slopes of the Andes. We have been lying to ourselves. We have been getting away with it nicely.
There are a million arguments for and against us. There will be a million more. And, as immovable as time itself, there are certainties in life that you cannot escape. You will perish. You will come to the realization that beauty is something that could never be measured by a common standard. That we are afraid of one another. That we are afraid of ourselves. And so it should be. Because that is true power. And humility in the face of its greatness your most valued asset. Welcome to the new world. Made in China for 26% less than we originally paid to have it produced in Pittsburgh. We hope you like it.
It's now safe to turn off your computer.
EVERYTHING IS TIMING
I woke up this morning and realized that I hadn't finished this. It's been difficult as of late, as I've been having problems concentrating. I am convinced that I have been infected with an incurable malady. Everyone tells me that I am imagining it. So I have stopped listening.
I've taken to wandering my house in a three piece suit, waiting for the door bell to ring. I will be ready when they come for me. I have been ready for weeks. I have come to realize that if you spend enough time watching things that would have otherwise gone unnoticed, you will begin to realize that you are the keeper of a terrible secret.
Hey, honeypants. Wanna go for a ride?