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Waters of March

(Yes…I know it’s May. Don’t take me so literally.)

One of the most captivating songs – a song that seems destined to have an everlasting power, despite a gaggle of jazz performers hanging their hat on it to fill out an album or hope upon hope for a Billboard spot – is a bossa nova piece, originally written by Antonio Carlos Jobim in 1972, called Waters of March (or Águas de Março in its native Portuguese). Remarkably, one of the definitive versions (although there are so many beautiful renditions) is captured on YouTube here, performed by Elis Regina. [sidenote: watch this side-by-side with the early 80’s video for Every Breath You Take by The Police – the similarities in the look, style, direction, and editing are uncanny]

What I love about the song, ever since I first became aware of it long, long ago (and still, it took me years to find the name of the song – I was convinced that Astrud “The Girl From Ipanema” Gilberto had done it originally, which turned out to be a red herring…as so many things I’d naively attributed to her – but that’s another story) is its flow and stream of consciousness; considering it was written during Rio de Janeiro’s downpours in late March – the end of summer in the Southern Hemisphere – it’s a stunning bit of onomatopoeia.

Though originally written in Portuguese – the language of Brazil, for all you junior ranchers out there – Jobim eventually re-worked the lyrics into an English translation which is actually longer (which was necessary to keep the feel/structure of the original). For more information on this song, please see this entry in Wikipedia.

Here are the Portuguese lyrics and their English re-working:

Águas de Março

“É pau, é pedra,
é o fim do caminho
É um resto de toco,
é um pouco sozinho

É um caco de vidro,
é a vida, é o sol
É a noite, é a morte,
é o laço, é o anzol

É peroba do campo,
é o nó da madeira
Caingá candeia,
é o matita-pereira

É madeira de vento,
tombo da ribanceira
É o mistério profundo,
é o queira ou não queira

É o vento ventando,
é o fim da ladeira
É a viga, é o vão,
festa da cumeeira

É a chuva chovendo,
é conversa ribeira
Das águas de março,
é o fim da canseira

É o pé, é o chão,
é a marcha estradeira
Passarinho na mão,
pedra de atiradeira

É uma ave no céu,
é uma ave no chão
É um regato, é uma fonte,
é um pedaço de pão

É o fundo do poço,
é o fim do caminho
No rosto o desgosto,
é um pouco sozinho

É um estrepe, é um prego,
é uma ponta, é um ponto
É um pingo pingando,
é uma conta, é um conto

É um peixe, é um gesto,
é uma prata brilhando
É a luz da manhã,
é o tijolo chegando

É a lenha, é o dia,
é o fim da picada
É a garrafa de cana,
o estilhaço na estrada

É o projeto da casa,
é o corpo na cama
É o carro enguiçado,
é a lama, é a lama

É um passo, é uma ponte,
é um sapo, é uma rã
É um resto de mato,
na luz da manhã

São as águas de março
fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida
no teu coração

É uma cobra, é um pau,
é João, é José
É um espinho na mão,
é um corte no pé

São as águas de março
fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida
no teu coração

É pau, é pedra,
é o fim do caminho
É um resto de toco,
é um pouco sozinho

É um passo, é uma ponte,
é um sapo, é uma rã
É um belo horizonte,
é uma febre terçã

São as águas de março
fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida
no teu coração”

Waters of March

A stick, a stone,
It’s the end of the road,
It’s the rest of a stump,
It’s a little alone

It’s a sliver of glass,
It is life, it’s the sun,
It is night, it is death,
It’s a trap, it’s a gun

The oak when it blooms,
A fox in the brush,
A knot in the wood,
The song of a thrush

The wood of the wind,
A cliff, a fall,
A scratch, a lump,
It is nothing at all

It’s the wind blowing free,
It’s the end of the slope,
It’s a beam, it’s a void,
It’s a hunch, it’s a hope

And the river bank talks
of the waters of March,
It’s the end of the strain,
The joy in your heart

The foot, the ground,
The flesh and the bone,
The beat of the road,
A slingshot’s stone

A fish, a flash,
A silvery glow,
A fight, a bet,
The range of a bow

The bed of the well,
The end of the line,
The dismay in the face,
It’s a loss, it’s a find

A spear, a spike,
A point, a nail,
A drip, a drop,
The end of the tale

A truckload of bricks
in the soft morning light,
The shot of a gun
in the dead of the night

A mile, a must,
A thrust, a bump,
It’s a girl, it’s a rhyme,
It’s a cold, it’s the mumps

The plan of the house,
The body in bed,
And the car that got stuck,
It’s the mud, it’s the mud

Afloat, adrift,
A flight, a wing,
A hawk, a quail,
The promise of spring

And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It’s the promise of life
It’s the joy in your heart

A stick, a stone,
It’s the end of the road
It’s the rest of a stump,
It’s a little alone

A snake, a stick,
It is John, it is Joe,
It’s a thorn in your hand
and a cut in your toe

A point, a grain,
A bee, a bite,
A blink, a buzzard,
A sudden stroke of night

A pin, a needle,
A sting, a pain,
A snail, a riddle,
A wasp, a stain

A pass in the mountains,
A horse and a mule,
In the distance the shelves
rode three shadows of blue

And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It’s the promise of life
in your heart, in your heart

A stick, a stone,
The end of the road,
The rest of a stump,
A lonesome road

A sliver of glass,
A life, the sun,
A knife, a death,
The end of the run

And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It’s the end of all strain,
It’s the joy in your heart.

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Thoughts On Art & Collaboration

I had an interesting discussion with a friend of mine, Derek. He’s a photographer and a skilled, accomplished one at that.

We got to talking about whether there was room for socialism in art – ie. collaboration over, let’s say, ego-driven art making.

My first response was that it really depended upon the discipline. For example, I felt that photography was inherently a first-person ego-driven art form, whereas theatre/film were inherently collaborative art forms.

However, in retrospect, it’s not that easy. For example, the collective General Idea utilised photography (though not exclusively), using each other as subjects in their art – even until death. [side note, please check out the work of A A Bronson, the sole surviving member]

Whereas photography has precedents for non-singular collaboration, I also realised from my own education in film that, even though I still feel that it (and theatre, from which it largely inherits its “legs”) is inherently collaborative, there are (truly) independent filmmakers such as Maya Deren and Phil Hoffman from whose works we can certainly feel a singular, personal vision at play. [another side note – because creating footnotes in HTML is a pain in the ass – there is a chasm of difference between what is popularly referred to as “indie” and what is truly “independent”. Without being overbearing, I encourage people to see the films of Deren, Hoffman, and others, such as Stan Brackhage – if only to understand the difference and to understand what a filmmaker truly is, in my books anyway).

There are multitudinous exceptions, of course, in either argument. I still hold that photography is inherently, nay naturally singular and ego-driven, and that theatre and film are almost beholden to a collaborative effort (regardless of who “stars” in said production, or who “directs” them).

I suppose the reason I bring this up is that it is so easy to fall into the habit of seeing art as being the work of only one person. This unfortunately leads to some artists holding an entirely false sense of reality. Sometimes collaboration is unavoidable, if only to complete a project. Also, there are some artists who take the whole “I have a vision” thing way, way too seriously. There is much to be learned from working with others, just as there is for those who are used to collaborating to be left on their own to create alone.

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Orwell Would Be Proud

See that? It’s a quarter. More specifically a Canadian quarter commemorating those who have served in wars past (for those outside Canada who aren’t familiar with the poppy symbol and how it ties in, check this out). However, according to United States Defence, it could have been a device used for espionage, utilising nanotechnology no less. Yes.

According to this article (and many others) the U.S. Defence Department was so astonished by the poppy design on the quarter (to be honest, I think Canada was one of the first in the world to use this sort of coloured dye on its coins) that it went under intense scrutiny, under the presumption that they could be used for tracing American “contractors” (aka agents – and by the way, when will such linguistically neutered stupidity end? A contractor hires a plumber to fix the kitchen sink, not air-dropped in the desert to create an uprising of local tribesmen) who pocketed them.

This is obviously very, very silly. Worse still, it’s indicative of such a ludicrously paranoid environment that it scares me to think what else has been flagged by the USDD? Migratory birds? Snow? Maple syrup?

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May Miscellany or "Practise Makes Stuff Better"

Hello all,

I’m working on adding some more photos soon and I’m incubating some ideas for articles. Work has been going spectacularly well (in the sense that I’ll be employed full-time until October, and it’s a big-assed feature film too), but of course it keeps me away from this little piece of cyberspace (does anyone use that term any more? Has it been retired?)

Some things to note:

1. Bandcroft, the improv/jam band I joined will be appearing twice this month at the venerable Cloak & Dagger. We will be playing May 8th and May 29th (both are Tuesdays). Come for the drinks – stay for the music. The fun starts at 9pm.

2. Behind The Garage – our first gig, last Saturday, went wonderfully. It seems we got the best crowd reception and aside from some early sound issues we played very well together. I guess that’s what happens when you practise regularly. I’m not sure when our next gig will be, but I’ll post it here when I know. You can always check out our MySpace page here for updates.

3. Writing…as some of you know, I’m a fiction writer. I’m going to start a new round of submissions soon (I took a bit of a blow in January – three rejections in as many weeks, and one of them was very, very close). As well, I’m extremely happy with how The Novel is coming. As I said before, “I guess that’s what happens when you practise regularly”. Things get better.

Lastly, Facebook. Is it me or did e v e r y o n e in Toronto join in the last month? Apparently, Toronto is the most represented city right now, which is kinda neat. I must say – and this is not a plug – compared to, say MySpace, Facebook is such an elegant, simple community. And so few bloody ads.

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Live Music in Toronto: A Mitzi’s Sister Mixer

This Saturday night, come out and see the band I’m in, Behind The Garage, when we play @ Mitzi’s Sister (1554 Queen St. W.) with The Three Bears, Alain Gratton, and The People of Canada.

The fun starts @ 9pm. No cover.

No..really, you should come to this. And I’m told you should bring “single friends”; by this, I’m assuming they don’t mean “a single individual friend”, but rather friends who are not betrothed to another. Just saying.

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Anonymous Taunts and Random Fools

Pay no attention to what the critics say;
there has never been set up a statue in honor of a critic.

– Jean Sibelius

There is a class of person in our online world whose existence, it seems, is defined by stalking news forums and user-comment sections so that they can anonymously spew views which seem crafted to achieve nothing more than outrageous reaction. Within the vernacular of the internet, these people are trolls. I can only assume that, when the internet included more than five people, the term was coined shortly thereafter.

Microsoft vs. Linux, Liberals vs. Conservatives, Anglicans vs. each other, the list goes on. Essentially, wherever there is a potential conflict, a troll will shortly be there to stir the pot and create, as trolls do very well, more anger.

For example, on the Globe and Mail website, within seconds of an article being posted about either the minority governing party or their rivals, the trolls go to town, essentially blaming one side or the other for the fall of society (which, while we’re talking about it, I believe happened somewhere in-between John Lennon’s assassination and the advent of “grunge” music).

Of course, I’m no angel. Sometimes, I’ll go on the G&M comment section and, irregardless of what the article is about, post something wildly accusing “Liberal judges” as the source of the problem (even if the article is about, say, busing rural students). I do this to demonstrate the rash (and frighteningly predictable) mindset of the trolls. Now, whether people enjoy my little play-theatre is another question. Perhaps I’m being a jerk and making things worse…mind you, you could use that phrase for anything.

I suppose I wouldn’t have a problem (or a blog for that matter) if people simply conducted themselves semi-professionally in public. I’m not asking for a formal essay from people submitting comments on the G&M – just keep the generalizations to a minimum and leave the partisan politics to…um…the politicians.

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What are you doing on Tuesday night?

So…I’m drumming again. In spades.

This Tuesday (April 17th) at The Cloak & Dagger (College & Bathurst) I’m appearing with a rag tag outfit of musicians for a jam night. My colleagues include Shannon Du Hasky (from the Z-Rays) on guitar, Graydon James on bass, and Nancy Brooks on French horn. If all goes well, it could spring into a regular fixture (!).

Context:

The last time I performed live (or even played on a drum kit for that matter) was over 12 years ago…in Thorold no less. It was the end of the band I’d been playing with for several years, a fin de siecle for that part of my life and it was a terrible (nay apocalyptic) gig. It was one of those nights where you grab your gear and run so that you don’t have to remember anything about it. We never played again for various good reasons, although it was nice while it lasted 1.

Fast forward: not only am I part of the jam outfit, but I’m also part of a new band called Behind The Garage (appearing April 28th @ Mitzi’s Sister).

Weird. But damned fun. Like life.

Come on out and enjoy the drink and songs – I couldn’t imagine playing in a better environment with a better group of people. 2

Update: Okay…I looked up the band I used to be in (we were called Spin Tree. We hailed from Burlington.) and found our demo album listed on someone’s Most Underrated Albums of All Time list. Wow. I sent him an email thanking him…it’s a little overwhelming to see yourself on someone’s list with such luminaries as Inspiral Carpets and Arcade Fire.

1. We were a goth band. I can say this now because at the time I hated when we were referred to as a goth band. Okay – we were a goth band with non-goth aspirations. We played with some well-known acts of the day, and got to play at such venues as The Opera House and The Drake (before it closed and became what it is now).

2. Until meeting and playing with Behind The Garage and the jam-band (if you have a band name, let me know – we’re dying for one), I’d always equated playing music with friction. This, of course, was an emotional artifact from my early days where there was a lot more artistic conflict – much of it needless. It’s 180 degrees different now – everyone I’m playing with is a *really nice person who also happens to be a really good musician*. Am I lucky or what?

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