One of my recent favourites is Royal Wood. I was inspired to pick up an acoustic guitar after listening to lots of singer-songwriters, and then Royal comes along and I start thinking that I should give piano a shot again. Unfortunately I’m equally incompetent on both instruments, which gets me thinking I should just resign myself to being a drummer…but I digress.

Royal has all the tools to be a big star – terrific songwriting, a distinctive voice and sound, and he looks like he could be Don Draper’s brother. He writes pretty ballads and piano-pop songs with strong hooks. Acting Crazy (It’s a Breakdown) from A Good Enough Day shows a bit less restraint than most of his songs, and I’d love to hear more of that side of him.

You can catch Royal Wood at the Ottawa Folk Festival in August. There’s also a really good live recording from CBC’s Canada Live available here.

Royal Wood Official Website

Royal Wood on CBC Radio 3

It’s a rare thing for me to read something, watch something, eat something, or listen to something without reading about it first. I can’t remember the last time I watched a movie without watching a trailer that gives away the basic premise and reading at least a couple of reviews. I almost never step foot inside a restaurant without checking what users on Urbanspoon or Yelp have written about it. In an effort to avoid disappointment by trying to weed out the banal, the poorly executed, and just plain bad things in life, I have unwittingly deprived myself of the joy that comes with experiencing something with no preconceived notions, untainted by the opinions of others.

Of course, when I got home I decided to learn a bit about the band and album that I had enjoyed so much. The first thing I read was an album review on Pitchfork. In short, the reviewer hated it and seemed to despise the band. He gave the album a score of 2.1 out of 10 – here’s just a sample of some of his comments:

It’s a shallow cry of authenticity, but this West London quartet really does sound more like a business than a band, supplying value-added products at discount prices.

They’re playing dress-up in threadbare clothes.

Obviously I would have listened to the album much differently if I’d read this review first. Instead of enjoying the album for what it is, I’d be looking for examples that either support or challenge the reviewer’s view. I would have been questioning my own taste – perhaps I’d fallen for the musical equivalent of McDonald’s. It would have been a much different experience – one I assume would have been significantly less enjoyable.

Perhaps I’ve placed too much importance on what others think. Maybe I should try watching a movie without finding out whether critics on Rotten Tomatoes are unanimous in their praise. Maybe I should read a book that Oprah hasn’t recommended. Maybe it’s O.K. to try a restaurant without searching for a thread about it on Chowhound.com Maybe ignorance really is bliss.

If you’re one of the three people who hasn’t heard Mumford & Sons in the past couple of months, here’s a little sample. I think it’s a really good album, with a couple of tracks that evoke memories of Spirit of the West’s Home for a Rest blaring from the speakers at Alfie’s sometime in the last century. But don’t take my word for it…

Mumford & Sons ‘The Cave’ from Ben Magahy on Vimeo.

Most percussionists at one point or another study some form of African percussion – for me, it meant dabbling a bit in Ugandan amadinda music in grad school.  I always wanted to learn to play the mbira, or at least be able to play one song on it.  I love the simplicity of the instrument – it’s delicate tone, the beautiful counterpoint of the traditional Shona music.

After reading the mbira article, I headed over to YouTube to look for some mbira performances.  The first is pretty cool – an ensemble called Hokoyo Marimba from Eugene, OR that plays traditional Zimbabwean dance music.  I would love to be part of an ensemble like this.

The second find was a trip down memory lane.  This is an excerpt from a 1984 Nexus concert in Japan.  Bob Becker was the first person I ever heard play mbira – of course I loved his playing, and wondered if there was any percussion instrument he hadn’t mastered.  I could listen to this piece all day.

Over the weekend I finally picked up a copy of her album This Is Good, which was released earlier this year.  I love it – infectious indie pop, brilliantly executed with clean, tight performances by a top-notch group of west coast musicians.  Ryan Guldemond worked with Hannah on the album, and I think you can hear some Mother Mother-like influences throughout, which is always a good thing.  It’s one of those albums that will be part of my regular playlist for a long, long time.

As luck would have it, Hannah will be performing in Ottawa next weekend, opening for Royal Wood in the Studio at the NAC.  Sounds like a nice way to spend a Saturday night.

As a bonus, here are a couple of videos – the catchy Bang Bang You’re Dead (produced by fellow BC singer-songwriter Jeremy Fisher) and the memorable Thick Skin.

Hannah Georgas website

Hannah Georgas on MySpace

Hannah Georgas on CBC Radio 3

I was fortunate to have two terrific teachers in Gary and Karen Tomlin. I started lessons with them beginning in grade 8, which included joining percussion ensembles of graduated skill levels. Gary led the senior ensemble called Resonance, and I think it was pretty unique in Canada. I imagine many U.S. high schools, where marching bands are much more common, have the necessary equipment to put together this kind of group. Not many schools in Canada, though, have more than one mallet instrument, let alone two marimbas, two vibraphones, two xylophones, chimes, glocks, timpani, drum set, gongs, and a variety of other stuff.

Playing in that group every week was the highlight of my teenage years. It was a pretty special group of guys, and they introduced me to music from Hendrix to Chick Corea to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. We played a lot of memorable concerts, including this one with guest soloist Peter Appleyard at the University of Waterloo in May of 1989. We finished every concert with Sabre Dance, and what we lacked in subtlety, we made up for with enthusiasm.

If by some chance to want to see other pieces from that concert (including Jeff Cowell’s memorable drum solo), the complete playlist is here.

Mother Mother
Radio Radio
Shout Out Out Out
Hot Hot Heat
Duran Duran
The Yeah Yeah Yeahs
The The
Rah Rah
Still Life Still
Duran Duran (perhaps the originator of this phenomenon)
Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam
Talk Talk
Mighty Mighty Bosstones
Wet Wet Wet
The Ting Tings
Tom Tom Club

All of which reminds me of my favourite birthday card. On the front, Yo Yo Ma and Boutros Boutros-Ghali are having dinner together.

Boutros Boutros: “I’ll have the mahi mahi.”

Yo Yo: “How’s the couscous?”

Waiter: “So-so.”

Before today, I’d never heard of Ramona Falls.  I know practically nothing about them – they’re from Portland, they released an album last year, the founder is part of another band called Menomena, etc.  

What I do know is they have an absolutely awesome video for the track I Say Fever.  It’s clever, creepy, enigmatic, and completely entertaining.   It’s like a tiny window into another world – you just get a glimpse and are left wondering how much more there is to see.  

At a time when MTV and MuchMusic are devoted to inane reality programming, it’s nice to see artists investing time and money in this kind of creative work, which goes far beyond the usual music video formula.

One of the standout concerts was Patrick Watson’s appearance on the main stage in Regina.  I’m embarrassed to admit that I hadn’t listened to him before (my focus in recent years has been on musicians living west of Ontario), and I was completely blown away by his performance.  Terrific songwriting, hip arrangements, haunting voice, all expertly performed – just a totally memorable set.

I’d encourage you to go out and hear him as soon as possible, but apparently the Regina show was the band’s last performance for a while.  It sounds like they’ll be recording and will be back touring next summer.  In the meantime, here’s a trio of songs (“Beijing,” “Big Bird In A Small World” and “Wooden Arms”) courtesy of the fine folks at NPR.

Patrick Watson on CBC Radio 3

Patrick Watson on MySpace

If you’re a fan of elegant songs, intelligent lyrics, and fine musicianship, these are your guys.  They will be on tour in Ontario this week – you can catch them in Peterborough on August 6th, at the Wolfe Island Music Festival (across the bay from Kingston) on August 7th, and at the vaunted Edelweiss Tavern in Kitchener on August 8th. Jim Bryson will be opening for them, and then he’ll perform with the band at the Ottawa Folk Festival the following weekend as part of a new collaboration.

While it’s fair to say I love all of their songs, I’ve been listening to Night Windows a lot lately. It’s partly because I’m learning the guitar part, but the words also keep running through my head – especially “But you’re not coming home again, and I won’t ever get to say…” If you’ve lost someone close to you, that line has some bite.

Here’s a live version from the 2008 Polaris Music Prize concert at the Dakota Tavern.

Incidentally, John named the song after the Edward Hopper painting of the same name. If it gives you greater insight into the song, here’s the painting.

Until that point in the talent portion of the competition, the performances had been pretty boring.  Lots of dancing and Broadway show tunes, and one decent baton twirler.  But then Miss South Carolina took the stage, and this marimba virtuouso gave the performance of a lifetime.

Her performance was a rare combination of technique, phrasing, and showmanship.  She flew up and down the keyboard, her hands a blur.  It was the talk of the percussion world the next day, and I dare say many young musicians, including yours truly, were inspired to take up this noble instrument.

For many years, this video was only circulated amongst the marimba cognoscenti.  Thankfully, technology has evolved and her talent, her joie de viver, can now be shared with everyone.

Take it away, Regis.