REVIEW | WILL CURRIE & THE COUNTRY FRENCH | A GREAT STAGE

1. STATING THE OBVIOUS

I don't know Will Currie, but I'd imagine that he's pretty used to being told that his music sounds like Ben Folds; not now-Ben Folds, adult songwriter, kinda dull Ben Folds, but Ben Folds Five Ben Folds. Ben Folds Five Ben Folds was one of histories most fun-while-still-being-touching-and-poignant songwriters. Whatever And Ever Amen is pretty much a perfect album, and one that every home should have in it's CD collection; clearly Currie has it, and has learned well at it's knee.

2. PURE POP FOR NOW PEOPLE

A Great Stage is a power pop album, and being the well-heeled genre that it is, any new power pop release will undoubtedly have many touchstones; what we have here is no exception: Folds is the most obvious one, but there's also some Replacements in there, The Raspberries, and to my ear a lot of The inBreds, which is only a good thing. This is all without mentioning previous piano-men, like Elton John and Billy Joel, and even the grandaddy of them all, Jerry Lee Lewis, all of whose shadows fall across these nine tracks. And while power pop has never been strictly about invention, it's history is rife with innovators, and from Cole Porter through Paul McCartney and Cheap Trick, and on to such modern day masters of the form as Kelley Stoltz and Tim Armstrong melody is all. Ben Folds knows that...

3. TRACK BY TRACK

Opener and title track "A Great Stage" is bit like a cross between Harry Nilsson's wonderful "Early in the Morning" and "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" by The Beatles, primarily Currie's voice bouncing along on a sweet, joyful little keyboard line. It's playful and pretty, the light handclaps barely noticeable but adding much to the tone of the song. "Typically, you play coy for a while," sings Currie, all the while playing coy himself. The song's a tease, a trailer for what's to come. It's the rest of the album whispered in your ear, having all of what the following songs have, but in a condensed form: The fun instrumentation, the catchy melody, the lose yet spot on performances. It's a fantastic start to the album, and luckily things only get better from there.

"Surprising Me" is the most Ben Folds Fivish of all of the tracks, but the similarities don't serve to place the song in an inferior light, instead showing that Will Currie's writing and The Country French's playing can stand up to and overcome any comparisons that can be thrown at them. "I'll take every step to make you feel holy; I've read every word of love, like they told me," sound like words to the listener. Being a piano-based rock band, there's an inherent sense of sophistication to the music, but when you add in Daniel MacPherson's fuzzed out bass the sophistication is tempered with a healthy dose of Fuckin' A, much in the same way Robert Sledge's bass lightened up Folds' songs.

"Centrefold" is a bit of Tin Pan Alley pop, featuring the line "When I look into your eyes I just get stoned," which I like a lot.

"Honest People" is something like a Joe Jackson song, propulsive and biting. A definite highlight.

The ghost of Randy Newman pops up a bit on "Maybe," musically though not vocally. Will Currie's voice is fantastic, smooth like glass and uncommonly evocative.

On "Mannin Veen" Amanda Currie's back-up vocals really make the song. It's a great one to begin with, but her little punctuations and supportive lines fill in the gaps with aplomb.

Arguably the best track on the album is "Friendly Fire," a workout for the band, very high energy with the insistent bass driving the song, and a truly fantastic organ solo. The chorus of Ooo's and the screeching guitar solo build the song up to a cacophonous finale. I've never seen these guys live, but I look forward to it, and when I do I imagine this as their last song. It has that feel, like "Rock and Roll All Night" or "I Want You to Want Me." This is the kind of song upon which a band could build a career, it's that good.

The nicely titled "Thunder Bay Coast Guard Radio" is a wall of sound, a floor-filler. It's got a bit less of the twists and turns that we find elsewhere, preferring to push through to the end without incident, but it's a good one nonetheless.

Just as the band condensed the album in the form of an introduction, so they do at the end with "A Grand Reprise." It's obviously a bit of a trifle, but a wonderful one. Where in the opener Currie sang "Typically, you play coy for a while," here he repeats but one line: "But then I realize it's just a game; typically I play along. Maybe I should sing a different song." It's clear though, that Will Currie & The Country French are anything but playing, and also that whatever they chose to play will be plenty fine.

This is a group of musicians with chops, lead by a songwriter with a rare knack for melody , all working together, weaving their talents together to create a whole that is quite simply stunning.

4. A BRIGHT FUTURE

Will Currie & The Country French are one of the first signings to Sloan's reborn Murderecords, and they help to make it a hell of a rebirth. There's no reason why this band shouldn't be a round for a long, long, long time, and though they may not light up the charts -Without question, in the past they would have had a chance, but today? No, they're too talented, too smart.- there's no reason they shouldn't be able to establish something unlikely for a bunch of knobs such as current charters Hedley: Longevity.

Will Currie is an artist, and though twenty years from now he may still be playing The Horseshoe and other dark and dingy clubs along the highway, he'll likely be playing to a packed house of rabid fans, and I'll be right up front, with my fist in the air singing along.

(On the flip side, Hedley will probably be headlining a nostalgia tour of casinos and county fairs...)

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Click HERE to see a live performance of "Surprising Me."

LIVE | LANGHORNE SLIM & THE WAR EAGLES | HORSESHOE TAVERN

Langhorne Slim, Malachai DeLorenzo and Paul Defiglia, aka Langhorne Slim & The War Eagles. They played Toronto's Legendary Horseshoe Tavern June 18, 2008.

This band is good, and they clearly enjoy playing together... They made mistakes and laughed about them and they laughed at each other a lot. It's more fun when you get the impression the band is having fun, which these guys were. Most of all, you can really tell that The War Eagles get a big kick out of Slim.

Near the end of the show they started playing a new -and unfinished- song that Slim quickly messed up, but when he tried to skip it and move on to something they all knew, Malachai shouted out "Stop being a baby and play it," which they did, and it was great.


A couple of times Slim was left alone on-stage to perform solo, which was beautiful. He doesn't have one of those Jeff Buckley voices where you hear the first note and are blown away by how pure and perfect it is, but his voice is really incredible. It sneaks up on you a bit, cuffs you on the back of your head. His stage presence is undeniable; he's a captivating performer, kind of like had David Bowie been a busker.


I commented in my review of their album how great I thought Malachai DeLorenzo's drumming is, and live he's even more impressive. He really must be one of the very best drummers working today. (I've never seen someone beat the crap out of their kit so savagely with brushes.) But I was probably remiss in not also singling out Paul Defiglia's bass playing. He's amazing. He played this really bizarre bowed solo near the end of the show that seemed almost atonal at the start, but morphed into something really great and unique. Pretty haunting.

I know these guys play shows with The Avett Brothers pretty often, and I can't think of a double bill I'd rather see. That would be unbelievable.

OBITUARY | CLEM SNIDE | 1991-2007

For sixteen or so years Clem Snide -named for a character in William S. Burroughs' Naked Lunch- were one of the greatest bands on Earth, whether you've heard of them or not. They played a brand of music that was pop, country, jazz, folk and a dozen other things all at once, while being none of them outright and it's own thing entirely. Over the course of five full-length albums and a couple of EPs, Clem Snide established a style, twitchily idiosyncratic and coolly smooth, that was quite unlike anything anyone else was doing anywhere, in any way.

Fronted by a man from Israel with the improbable name of Eef Barzelay -which sounds like he's named for a character in a William S. Burroughs novel- Clem Snide were based out of Texas. They started as a three-piece; their debut -1998's You Were A Diamond- contained barely any percussion whatsoever, instead floating along on Eef's guitar and vocals, Jeff Marshall's bass, and Jason Glasser's bowed strings... What drums there were were supplied by Eric Paull, who became a member of the band full-time in short order.

Clem Snide excelled at economizing, never crowding a song with unnecessary anything, band members sometimes sitting out multiple tracks on a single album. You imagine a sign hanging in the recording studio reading "All In Service to the Song."

Eef Barzelay's lyrics were esoteric and witty, erudite and simple; they were stripped down, like the music supporting them. His lyrics were skewed Norman Rockwell paintings: Just enough information to make you care, just enough melancholy to make you cry, just enough just enough just enough. His songs, almost always sung first person, were about details.

They were designed to make you stop paying attention to anything else that might be happening in the room.

Clem Snide's songs were like the nuanced, good-hearted little indie film that comes out of nowhere and wins all of the Oscars one year.

Whenever I bought a Clem Snide album I would listen to it immediately, many times in a row, and the second time through the songs felt already familiar, and sometimes with some songs they felt familiar the first time through. This is not because they sounded like anyone else -I've already been over that: They sound like no one else- but because they are songs that should have always existed. When Eef Barzelay wrote a song and Clem Snide recorded it they were not just inventing something, but filling a hole. And when I would listen to them I would think, and still do think when I listen to them, "I would be okay if all music by all bands sounded like Clem Snide."

Clem Snide, you will be missed.

Eef Barzelay has disbanded Clem Snide. He is about to release his second solo album. His first, Bitter Honey, was good. But it was half of a puzzle. The album, almost entirely Eef's nasaly voice and strummed guitar, was missing what the rest of Clem Snide brought to his songs, and in particular was the worse for the lack of Jason Glasser's bowed strings... I've heard tracks from his up-coming album, and I must say, things look bright. I won't say that Eef's best days are behind him yet, but whatever comes from the man in the future the songs he made with his Clem Snide co-horts will always occupy a special and rare place for me.

Here's a rundown of ten -err, eleven- songs you should know by Clem Snide. These aren't the band's ten -err, eleven- best, that would be an impossible list for me to make... But these are great songs all.

ACTION | Soft Spot | 2003

"Action" is one of Clem Snide's breaking-out-of-their-shell songs. It's an up-tempo barn burner, what the kids in the fifties would have termed a rave-up, but it makes room for personal details and sincerity:

"And if you're alone just pick up the phone it's me; I'll bring nothin' to eat, but I can tickle your feet 'til you smile."

And let's not over-look the quirk:

"Give me a shove and I'll fall in love, don't wait! 'Cause if a civil war buff can love a diamond in the rough that's great!"

"Action" is a great track that will get your blood boiling and feet stomping.

Click HERE to hear a pretty cool, though slightly less raucous live version of "Action."

ALL GREEN | Soft Spot | 2003

"All Green" is the first Clem Snide that I fell in love with. It's one of those rubber ball's of a pop song, bouncing bouncing bouncing, ringing guitars and jangly melody... The lyrics are simple and profound:

"I buried our love in the back yard; until it thaws we could play cards.

I know that it's hard when it's dark and cold, and all that you feel is yourself getting old.

But summer will come with Al Green and sweetened ice tea. Summer will come and be all green with the sweetness of thee.

So feed me a kiss chapped lips and all, and I'll bring back the tape of an empire's fall.

I'll tie a string around my finger so I don't forget not to get so tied up to the things that I regret."

Click HERE to listen to a very rough version of "All Green."

BEAUTIFUL | The Beautiful E.P. | 2003

Clem Snide's version of the Christina Aguilera hit is looser, more sincere and more melancholy than the original. Linda Perry, who wrote it, said when she heard this version that it's the way the song was meant to be played. That Eef Barzelay and company weren't splashed across the covers of men's mags all over the world, or dancing in their videos in short shorts also removed the sense of irony that accompanied Christina's take.

"I am beautiful, no matter what they say," takes on a whole new meaning when what people are saying isn't Holy fuck, what a crazy hot body...

Click HERE to see a live clip of Clem Snide's version of "Beautiful."

Clem Snide also does a stunning cover of Richie Valens' classic "Donna" on 2000's awesome Your Favorite Music. They slow it down to a crawl and wring out every single ounce of melancholy that is to be had. The "Oh, Donna" part becomes almost tragedy. Certainly one of the best covers ever.

DON'T BE AFRAID OF YOUR ANGER | The Ghost of Fashion | 2001

"Don't Be Afraid of Your Anger" starts out like the end of some seventies arena-rock jam, so much so that you expect glittery tinsel to fall from the ceiling, before switching to a country bounce. "Well, your tongue can get sharp, but it's soft in my mouth, and there's towels and ice we can use."

It plays with cacophony a touch intermittently, before returning to the bounciness, and reverting back to that seventies style jam sound near the end.

"So don't be afraid of your anger; I'll eat it with mustard and wine, and lick the blood off your lip and the bruise on your hip when this pillow fight gets out of hand."

FIND LOVE | Soft Spot | 2003

This is an example of Clem Snide's rare and singular gift: They were able to create songs that were concurrently driving and subtle, chilled and immediate, completely abstract and 100% logical.

"Wrestle bears, bring them to their knees; steal the honey from killer bees: Find love, and let it slip away."

It's a melancholy tune, lightly swinging, bouncing along, equal parts sad and hopeful, it's message cloudy and crystal clear.

"Don't be scared to connect the dots; dig for gold in parking lots: Find love, and give it all away."

Click HERE to watch a really wonderful video for "Find Love." Seriously, this is an incredible video.

Click HERE to listen to a really beautiful live acoustic rendering of the song. This is melodically very different than the album version. Still awesome though.

I CAN'T STAY HERE TONIGHT | You Were A Diamond | 1998

"I can't stay here tonight, there's buttons to sew, and lust to be made to seem tender; with a freshened up face and smile-bearing lips, I'll practice it locked in the bathroom."

It's a song that barely moves, like stifling heat slows the air.

"We can't stay here tonight, this waitress is tired of waging a war of attrition; so pay for the coffee, and we'll take it to go... You hold the cup while I'm driving."

It's glimpses of normalcy, the mundane. This song stops the room, with it's just-askew words, and Eef's slightly strained vocals, and the way it takes it's own time to get where it's going.

"I can't stay here tonight, there's blankets to fold, and love to make polished and silver; we'll store it away behind memories and glass, and we'll take it out when we get lonely."

It's just over four minutes long, but it contains more pathos and sadness than most novels or films.


NO ONE'S MORE HAPPY THAN YOU | The Ghost of Fashion | 2001

"No One's More Happy Than You" starts off sounding as though it's coming to an end, or sounds like the the theme to some fucked up back alley circus.

It's one of a couple of Clem Snide songs that takes aim at those people who love to wallow in themselves, who take pleasure in their own pain.

This here's a song for the emo kids.

"No one's more happy than you! Even the sky's feeling blue! You don't believe but its true! No ones more happy than you! A beautiful Hackensack night, two teenagers kiss and hold tight; the satellite swimming above is sending a message of love! But no one's more happy than you!"

The theme of the self-loathing teen pops up again in "End of Love" off of the album of the same name:

"Guess what? Your pain's been done to perfection by everyone."

MADE FOR TV MOVIE | End of Love | 2005

Clem Snide dipped into the well of pop culture often and to great effect, but they never said word one about Paris Hilton or the papparazzi; instead they sang about Enrique Inglesias' mole, and wrote this wonderful ode to Lucille Ball. "Made for TV Movie" touches occasionally upon humor, but in a few words it paints a touching and beautiful portrait of a woman who was an entertainer in public, but a true tortured soul at home.

"Well, I heard he used to beat her like she was a conga drum. They always slept in separate beds, but somehow they had a son. Their neighbors were vaudevillians, and the laughs came from a can. Even though the club was hoppin’, it was the pills that she was poppin’ that did her in."

He goes on to acknowledge that he may be wrong about the facts, but says "They would never make a movie if everything was great."

The song closes with a direct reference to I Love Lucy's most famous moment, turning it from a brilliant piece of slapstick to a life lesson fit for a Hallmark card:

"Because happiness is boring, it’s always black and white; the good times never last, and the chocolates move too fast for us all."

Click HERE to see a great live version of "Made for TV Movie."

My favorite Clem Snide pop culture reference comes in the song "Ancient Chinese Secret Blues," from The Ghost of Fashion. "Why did you open your mouth? This isn't the time or the place for my love's disgrace," sings Barzelay before opining over and over again towards the songs close: "Calgon take me away!" It's a reference that's from out of nowhere, but is perfectly placed.


THE CURSE OF GREAT BEAUTY | The Ghost of Fashion | 2001

Perhaps Clem Snide's loveliest songs, and one that features nothing so much as Eef Barzelay's awkward voice and some static. No percussion, no guitar, no violin or cello, no bass. It also happens to contain all of the hallmarks of Eef Barzelay's great lyricism in one song: The quirk, the sincerity, the beauty... I love the words to this song so much that I'm going to post all of the lyrics here:

"Your toothache, an ivory tower; so let down your long perfect legs; I'll untie the knots with my lips and my tongue and rub Ambisol into your hair. 'Cause those paper cuts kept you from writing a poem so epic and true about how you are cursed with a beauty so great; I'm sure that it's hard being you. So put down that book it's too serious. I'll undress you as I make a joke. But please try not to laugh as I swim in your flesh, just hold your breath 'til I finish."

A masterpiece.

HERE is a short (30-second) clip of "The Curse of Great Beauty."

THERE IS NOTHING | Soft Spot | 2003

Eef Barzelay, as skewed as he can be, isn't adverse to a little romantic indulgence, and though a lot of the time his romanticism is cloaked in quirkiness, sometimes it shines through clear and unencumbered:

"There is nothing in the world that I wouldn't do for you, 'cause there is nothing in this world if I can't share my love with you. So many people in the world, they don't realize; so many people in this world with troubled thought and angry eyes. All the riches of this world can't compare to your smile, and if only for a kiss I would walk a thousand miles."

It's a delicate song, the polar opposite to those overblown love songs on the radio, eschewing sincerity in favor of bombast.


WEIRD | End of Love | 2005

Like "No One's More Happy Than You" and "End of Love," "Weird" takes aim at Dashboard Confessional fans and their like, calling out those kids with their happiness in direct proportion to their pain.

"Well, you wrote me a poem and it didn't rhyme; you're not as strange as you act all the time."

Click HERE to listen to a pretty fucked up version of "Weird." This is not the version from the album; it's looser and more rocking, almost punkish. Clearly a fun live version.

POINT CONCEDED: CARROT TOP HE'S NOT

I made the comment in a recent post that Ben Gibbard -he of Death Cab for Cutie and The Postal Service- was no genius. Actually, I went so far as to say that, in my opinion, he is closer to being the Carrot Top of rock music than a genius.

After a spirited debate with my friend Tricia Lahde I am prepared to concede that, based largely on a few songs he did with The Postal Service, Ben Gibbard is not akin Carrot Top.

He is the leader of a disgustingly over-rated indie band, and a contributor to another better-but-not-really-that-great electronic-indie outfit. But he is no Carrot Top.

Sorry Ben Gibbard.

Sorry Carrot Top?

NEW EVIDENCE JUST IN!!!

We at SNEAKY SUBMARINE have obtained further evidence that Ben Gibbard is NOT Carrot Top!!! If he was Carrot Top he'd look like this:


He's kind of a cross between -look for it- Angie Dickenson, Courtney Cox, Sylvester Stallone and Michael Jackson. I've never liked prop comics, and this is why.

REVIEW | LUKE DOUCET & THE WHITE FALCON | BLOOD'S TOO RICH

1 OVERWHELMING UNDERWHELMINGNESS.

The first time I heard Luke Doucet was at the old Ted's Wrecking Yard. He was playing with his Vancouver-based band, Veal, a bizarrely tight punkish outfit that came onstage, played three songs and literally blew their amps and so had to stop playing. Those three songs were pretty brilliant though, brilliant enough to lead me to buy all of their albums off of the merch table on my way out.

Listening to the albums I recognized a couple of the songs -three of them anyway- but found the albums strangely weak and lifeless. No zip. No pop. Some decent songwriting, but otherwise...

In 2001 Doucet had relocated to Toronto and struck out on his own. He released Aloha, Manitoba, an incredibly written and performed album of character sketches and slices of life. For years Aloha, Manitoba maintained a spot in my music-listening rotation.

Three years later he released a fairly blah album of unreleased and live tracks called Outlaws... The arrogance of releasing an album of unreleased tracks after you've only put out one album notwithstanding, Outlaws was pretty lame. Two years later he put out Broken (and Other Rogue States) which was also not very good.

The common weakness on all of these albums wasn't the songwriting per se, nor the playing -Luke Doucet can play- but the production. Where Aloha, Manitoba sounded like the work of a hungry singer-songwriter with something to say, what's come since has sounded largely like the work of a producer, and quite frankly one that's not much more than just competent.

His albums sound clean and slick, everything fitting together seamlessly the way it should, I suppose... But he polishes the songs to within an inch of their lives, cutting out all of their edge with laser-like precision. He's produced a couple of decent but lifeless-sounding albums for NQ Arbuckle and one for his girlfriend-now-wife Melissa McClelland -who might just be the most beautiful woman on the Toronto music scene- that quite frankly is awful. What they all have in common is blandness.

The only real conclusion to come to when faced with all of this evidence is this:

Luke Doucet is not a particularly strong producer.

2 NOT RICH, BUT LUKE WARM.

2008, Doucet is back with Blood's Too Rich, his new album with his new band The White Falcon, which features his wife Melissa McClelland, who might just be the most beautiful woman on the Toronto music scene.

Will this be another slice of weak-kneed lifeless country rock, or a return to the days of wonder represented by Aloha, Manitoba?

I can't even fake cuteness here, nor hold off just laying it out in plain English:

This is not a very good album.

In fairness, it's not a very bad album either. It's worse: It's middling. It's wholly mediocre.

I wish it weren't. I wish Luke Doucet had redeemed himself, and reclaimed his place next to the likes of Danny Michel and Shannon Lyon as one of the bright lights in Canadian music, a songwriter of the first order. But he hasn't. He's merely reiterated that he managed to grab the golden ring on his first release, but has since dropped it and can't find it in the dark. He's proven that he can play and that his friends can as well, and he's proven that once you become a not very strong producer it's difficult to break out of being a not very strong producer.

The album kicks off with "Long-Haul Driver," one of those character sketches that was a highlight of Aloha, Manitoba, and which features such inane, idiotic lyrics I'm not even sure which to use here as an example. How about "My cargo's bound for Winnipeg by way of St. Paul. I'll be picking Brown-Eyed-Susans by the road as twilight falls. When I cross back into Canada, I may stop for a smoke; Yes, I know these things will kill me, but, my dear, so might the road." The song is clearly meant to come of as one of those Randy Newmanesque slices of life that illuminates the human condition using the mundane details we all share, but what it amounts to is a series of mundane details illuminating the utter lack of lyrical ability possessed by Luke Doucet.

Three tracks in the album features one of the most awful covers I've ever heard, in The White Falcon's take on The Cure's "The Lovecats." I never thought that "The Lovecats" was one of The Cure's better songs, but this version makes the original a Beatles song, a masterpiece. It's clunky and dull, and unmelodic. (I tend to think, too, that if you place a cover so close to the top of an album that maybe you know your own songs aren't quite up to snuff, which is certainly the case here. Unfortunately the cover thrown in here is actually worse than any of the originals, which is saying something.)

The Band's Rick Danko gets a tribute paid of sorts, with "The Day Rick Danko Died," which is a slice of the worst kind of blues, played by a group of white middle class Toronto musicians who sound like they learned the blues from listening to Johnny Lang albums. A 'Dedicated to Rick Danko' on the inside cover would have been a more fitting and tasteful tip of the hat... The lyrics to this song are so far beyond bad I'm not even going to quote from them.

Part of the problem here is that Luke Doucet seems so enamored with his own playing that he's unable to let the songs be songs, and is okay with them being beds for his noodling. It almost feels like he knows the compositions are undercooked, but thinks he can save them because he's just so darn talented, but with arrangements this dull and obvious, no amount of talent can lift them up.

The primary bright spot is the subdued "Motorbike," written with the excellent Mike Plume. It's a song that sits back and just is what it is, it's lyrics subtle and playful. It's got a guitar solo that goes on for a couple of bars too many, but compared to the mess that is the rest of the album that's a small complaint. The other stand-out is the title track, which plays very much like a Blue Rodeo song, with a JIm Cuddy-assisted sing-long chorus.


3 RECONSIDERATIONS.

Luke Doucet and Ryan Adams aren't oceans apart in style, both trading in countrified twang and both often failing, but there's a huge difference between the two: Ryan Adams, as bad as he can be sometimes, challenges himself over and over again. He throws in some new wave here and there, dabbles in punk, and even when rockin' the country stylings he plays with conventions, lyrically and musically. Luke Doucet challenges himself not at all. He constantly repaints and redresses what he's done before, rarely adding anything new to the pallet.

Ever since Aloha, Manitoba I've counted Luke Doucet among my favorite artists, despite his constant mediocrity in years since. I have no idea why I've done this, except that Aloha, Manitoba was that good. (For the record, I don't want Luke Doucet to just remake Aloha, Manitoba over and over again... In fact, part of the problem is that he hasn't come along any since he recorded that debut. I just want the man to do something, anything that doesn't make him sound like he's spinning his wheels in the mud of mediocrity... I want the man to challenge himself.) With Blood's Too Rich I'm going to have to finally reconsider that, finally accept that Luke Doucet has just let me down too many times and needs to be kicked to the curve.

I'm going to remove his name from my Favorite Music list on Facebook once an for all.

A once and future golden boy on the Canadian music landscape is an almost-was, officially.

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Click HERE to listen to the awful "The Day Rick Danko Died." But don't say I didn't warn you...