Better late than never… I absolutely love this song by Rufus Wainwright “Going to a Town” and for those of you that may not have heard this Muse like tune, hope you enjoy it.  Yes it is from 2007, but still as poignant as when it was released.

The Live Uncut Version

His recent CBC Q TV interview

­­­­There’s A Time

There’s a time when we will suffer

There’s a time when we will fall

There’s a time when we know nothing

When we think we know it all

When we’re lost in stormy weather

Cold and stranded in the rain

Life can be so dark and empty

There’s no meaning only pain

There’s a time we feel sorrow

There’s a time we feel blessed

There’s a time we can borrow

There’s a time we should rest

All the times I lived in shadows

Swimming waters much too deep

Getting high on intuition

Too scared to fall asleep

All those times misunderstanding

Feeling nothing but perplexed

There were times when I saw clearly

Knowing what was coming next

There’s a time we feel sorrow

There’s a time we feel blessed

There’s a time we can borrow

There’s a time we should rest

Marv Kanarek ©2010

A few weeks ago, I bumped in to Super Model, Artist and Singer Karen Mulder at a party that was thrown by artist Philippe Pasqua. I hadn’t seen her since I last shot with her for L’Officiel Magazine and it was a real pleasure seeing her again.

Just wanted to share this amusing short vignette totally shot with my iPhone of Karen Playing the Photographer with my Camera…

Enjoy

Song “Regarde Toi” by Benjamin Kanarek © Adapted & Sung by Barbara Nicoli

By Isa Maïsa

The irony of success is when we lose ourselves in it. The fickle thing is that everyone wants it, not everyone has it and even when we do, some are not able to handle it. As our society today considers fame and fortune to be the Holy Grail of our sense of purpose, living a life in an attitude of a happy medium is hushed as insufficient. Yet it is shattering to hear the news about great talents leaving this world prematurely. Just these past few months we saw the loss of two, Alexander McQueen and Michael Jackson. How disturbing to think they had what many would consider to be the winning lottery ticket of life: fame, fortune and success. Or did they? What made them and so many others get lost in (their) success?

It is obvious that they lived under extreme pressure to succeed, which ended up absorbing life out of them. Discovering their past childhood, we realized how their dysfunctional families had made their short-lived lives difficult and unhappy. While no one family is perfect nor needs to be, the ability to cope and to have a balanced life would bring out the best potential in all of us. How to overcome failure and challenge is vital for success, and having emotional support from loved ones is crucial for survival. Both seemed to be missing for Alexander McQueen and Michael Jackson.

Of course, there are those who argue that their childhood was what caused their genii, their source of strength and their drive. However, it remains difficult to think an insufferable and miserable upbringing can bring out the genius in someone when most specialists believe geniuses are born as geniuses regardless of their environment. Look at the genius talent of Pablo Picasso who was nurtured as a very young boy. His euphoric artistic career excelled beyond belief while living a life of harmony with his art, friends and family to a ripe old age of 92.

There are exceptions, where the horrible ‘family legacy’ of a painful childhood brought out delicate sensitivity and a subtle visionary, such as Doris Lessing.She coped and survived thanks to her fantastic imagination which led to her happy vocation as a writer, earning her the Nobel Peace Prize. In this case, her agony and memories led to her creativity. This shows two opposed cases of possible sources of success: what must be remembered is the importance of awareness in dealing with what life brings, making the best out of it, by keeping harmony and balance, even when doing so seems impossible.

Below a great documentary “George Michael, a different story” showing how he dealt with success and almost drowned in it during the “Wham!” period… And what was needed: A heavy dose of business acumen to learn how to swim with sharks.

by: Benjamin Kanarek

I’ve never been a big RAP person. More in to Alternative Rock, Rock, Pop-Rock and R&B.

But Die Antwoord (which means The Answer) from South AfriKa are really Special. They can Rap at 50,000,000 Miles Per Hour and have some really interesting melodic content blended in to the Mix. Their lyrical content is controversial and worth listening to. It says a lot about the human condition in a sector of South AfriKan culture that is  an in your face stark revelation. It also gives one a behind the scene’s look at South AfriKa’s financially underprivileged white minority. Yo-Landi the female in the group is quirky, strange and sexy. I want to call their style of music “Punk wRap”. Why not, it’s like a Punk backlash and Rap wrapped in to a hybridized melting pot. Die Antwoord will be touring in Europe and North America later this year. Could be a real cultural eye opener for all of you Rap Aficionado’s. Have a listen…“Enter the Ninja”

Here is a recent interview with Die Antwoord, just after their first concert:

by Marvin Kanarek

I just had an epiphany, maybe it’s The Muse, I don’t know. So I guess I’m fated to continue at least ‘til the end of this little story.

I’m a true “dyed in the T-shirt” Hippy way back when during the Yorkville days in Toronto. Living the life of music, free love, lots of stimulants, crash pads, communal living and all the other appendages of peace. love, tuning in, grooving, dropping out and just plain dropping anything that’s put in your hand or mouth or both.

I’m sharing a house with I don’t remember how many other hippies and their “old ladies”. Typical night. No gig, so stay home at the pad and wait for the drop ins that are sure to arrive during the evening… The usual joint is passed around the table. Hendrix or the Doors or CSNY or anyone that played at Woodstock is screaming from the turntable.

The music is our constant backdrop. I go to my usual safe spot at the end of the table and withdraw as I do almost every night, unless I’m out playing at a club. I grab my ink pens, my pencils, my paper and start sketching. In those days it was all about Celtic designs, psychedelic imagery, dharma, karma and anything “trippy”. I would fly around my universe while the music carried me from one frame of consciousness to another. After time, I would snap out of my “trance”, realizing that I had an audience to the left, right and behind me. Sitting in silence, they would be transfixed on whatever image I created. Sometimes they would come out of me in minutes, sometimes hours. All the while I was aware of other presences but never dared to look up for fear of losing “the groove”. I only acknowledged them when the graphic trip was over.

This was a frequent activity in the pad or many other places I crashed during the Hippy Days. I usurped Hendrix, The Jefferson Starship, The Doors. They all became my back up band as I sketched away freestyle.

Many of the regulars at the many tables or corners I free form sketched at, would also follow me at my gigs. There were many clubs that I played in during those fertile years in Toronto.

All sounds great to me. What’s the point of the story? Nice as it is getting all nostalgic I do have a point don’t I?

Well I’m guessing that I’m writing about denial and then acceptance. See, as I warned you and myself in the first post, I will only write if The Muse is here. It is,and I can’t stop to ask questions. So, I’m not sure where this going. I just have to follow. I’m sure there will be clarification at the end. I hope so!

Denial and acceptance? Think about what’s just been thrown at you Kanarek. Don’t think to hard, or you’re gonna lose you know who, and then it just becomes bullshit. Okay. So something is bothering me about those days and those tables and those clubs. Yeah, I think I get it. I was getting freaked out by being the source of entertainment. Like some trained animal ready to perform on demand! Is that’s what’s so bothersome? Yeah, that and the fact that I was feeling like freak. I wanted to be like everybody else. I already stood out because of my height. Now I’ve got this “sketching, playing” that sticks out like a huge wart! I’m not saying that I didn’t love the attention. It’s just that I wished someone else could have taken over the helm for a little breathing time. So I get it. I wore my talent like a huge coil of chains. Maybe someone else could of dealt with it more intelligently or with more grace. I didn’t. I wanted to speak, act and be like everyone else / I’m realizing that I still hadn’t accepted who I was back then. It was a great ride, but it would be years until I realized that I could have saved myself much agony if I was just a little brighter back then. Wow, the memory of me constantly dumbing myself down just hit me really hard.

There’s a ton of gifted people out there who are, or are not dealing with who they are. I am not embarrassed, nor do I feel arrogant admitting to myself that I am talented. That was an important step for me. You wear it with grace and thankfulness. If you keep it to yourself that’s fine. It’s one way to protect yourself from close contact. As soon as you put it out there, you are performing. At that point you will be judged, admired, hated, misunderstood, abused, heralded, despised, idolized and all other emotions and acts that happen when put under close scrutiny by the audience. It happens in galleries,book signings, concerts, photo shoots, recitals and any other venue that an iron willed artist puts himself or herself in.

So I wasted so many years not having the balls or nerve to admit I am talented! Multi-talented actually. There I said it! I felt different. I sunk into the miasma of compensating for my inability to accept who I was. Sometimes I’d counter by lack of self-confidence with obnoxious displays of over the top arrogance. Very bad! I’m not a psychologist, but I’m sure there was a whole lot of much deeper demons lurking behind a lot of cerebral real estate! I know most of them intimately now. I even have names for each of them.

So,what am I learning on this trip that the Muse has been so kind to take me on? I swear, I probably won’t know til this particular stream is spent and I finally read it. I know that I tried to downplay my talents so that I didn’t stand out. That’s more than denial. It’s even worse. I’d call it self inflicted repression! As I got older, I seemed to get more of a handle on this possible psychosis. I always enjoyed the performing. The galleries, the concert stages,unrolling a design for a client. It’s all performance. I still felt awkward. The cliché is, I felt that I didn’t deserve the attention. Isn’t that interesting Kanarek? So, it was part repression and part denial. Denial of what? Talent? The fact that I was repressing the talent? Denial that I was an artist? So besides denial and acceptance, there is now repression? Complicated path. The Muse just left. Seriously. I’m stopping.

The State of the Artist

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

by Marvin Kanarek

Today I was briefly sucked into the vortex of “THE” tawdry daytime soap-reality show. The Staples Center was smothered with the syrupy shallow superficiality of an American Idol episode!. Pandering to human frailty and morbid curiosity, “The Hollywood Media Machine” pulled it off with predictable ostentatious aplomb. I was sickened but not surprised. I would occasionally leave my studio to catch a sound bite or two only to return back to my room harbouring a little more anger after each nano viewing of the spectacle.

As a musician and artist, I was moved and saddened by his “untimely” death. It always hurts when an “Artist Brother” dies.

But that honest visceral emotion progressively eroded as each day of the circus unfolded. Certain realities crept in that would focus my perspective on myself, the media and the state of humanity in general.

I as a musician, unlike many who lead “normal lives”, had a more direct connection to his legend. I guess you can say three degrees rather than six degrees of separation. On many occasions, I had the privilege to work in two of the recording studios where his most seminal albums were recorded. Over the years I also had the privilege of working with musicians and engineers that directly worked with him on those famous albums. I was also very close with someone who personally worked for him for many years, and as such, was privy to information, albeit already second hand.

This has given me a more balanced perspective of him as an artist and human being. I am not intimating that my point of view or views are more credible than the die hard fan who loved him for his music, or his iconic status, but I do know, that I am less impressionable to the effects of here say and legend.

So, to all the empty headed Talking Heads of Media and to all of those who glut themselves on the morbid fatty diet of tabloid fodder, only to regurgitate it as fact: please STFU!!

For those of the “ill-iteratti” who don’t know what that means, I will make myself very clear here. If you personally were NOT or are NOT privy to ANY of the highly touted allegations, whatever they may have been, you are out of your league, so just SHUT THE FUCK UP!!

Yes, inasmuch as we still live in an allegedly free society, you can have and voice an OPINION, but, unless proven otherwise, it is exactly that; an opinion! An opinion is part of the family where assumptions reside, and of course, I hope you are familiar with the saying regarding ASSumptions?

Get on with your lives!

The Will, The Children, The Burial, Their Private Lives, are NONE of your business! Just move along, this doesn’t concern you!

What I observed of the memorial during my nano moments of weakness prompted questions and insights.

Did we really need to hear Mariah Carey’s soulless show of vocal gymnastics as she bloviated and butchered a Jackson Five song?

Where does Al Sharpton find the time to accomplish anything? After all, from what I’ve noted, he IS a close and personal friend of any and every celebrated African American Artist or any African American who has achieved ANY media celebrity! Al’s a very socially busy man! I guess if he had the time, he would have bought a sequined glove that he could have worn to the memorial!

Did we need cute Brooke Shields sharing her even cuter maudlin anecdotes?

As for representative Jackson-Lee, and I am very glad I caught her entire hypocritical eulogy-What about the minute of silence The House NEVER gave to the victims of Katrina?

Your poignant description of MJ’s charitable efforts were very touching! How about YOU and your House colleagues learning from MJ’s benevolent side and START TAKING CARE of “WE THE PEOPLE”!!!!

You shameful hypocrite!!

I’m sure there would have been a lot more fodder if I could have stomached the entire “Performance”, but it was more than a mortal human being could tolerate!

My only final question is, how much will the promoter charge for the DVD, “The Making of the Memorial”??

Like airborne sharks flying in a frenzy towards the scent of blood, I was shaken by the thunder of the many media choppers as they passed over my house towards nearby Forest Lawn.

I wondered, and then briefly turned on the TV to see the limos parked in front of that familiar assembly hall.

I turned the image off. I started to cry. I cried for a friend we buried so many years ago in that same cemetery. That same assembly hall was packed.

I also cried for the famous “Artist Brother”, MJ, who I had never met.

I cried out of frustration for the shallow morbidity of the gossip mongers.

I shed a tear for all those that live vicariously through others.

My tears welled up in anger thinking about the “Travesty” AKA, “Our Government”!

Tears fell in compassion for all those that died today from, disease,starvation, wars etc… They all left families behind. They all touched someone’s life!

Then I went outside.

I was shocked to find that the world was still here!

I thought the skies would be overcast and ominous in a Shakespearian display of Pathetic Fallacy!

To my surprise the cloudless afternoon heavens were an electric blue.

I was surrounded in sweet bird song.

Squirrels chased one another up and down the rich green living trees.

Occasionally, I was jolted by the ugly cacophony of a car horn.

I could hear distant children.

I was surrounded by LIFE!

I was alive!.. My world was alive!!

I guess it’s true that “Life goes on”,…. C’est la vie!!

RIP Michael Jackson and ALL the souls that have left us today…….

……………peace for ’09 and beyond