Aw Hell yeah, Ash Tree Lane has a new look... cobbled together from various templates. Hopefully future Blogger updates will allow me to upload a personalized background photo but I think this is fitting for now.
Soon: actual substantial updates!
8/25/2010
8/16/2010
Review - The Suburbs
Written and Performed by Arcade Fire
Produced by Arcade Fire and Markus Dravs
Recorded under Merge Records
Note to self: Thursday evening does not qualify as "early next week." Daniel, you lazy ass.
Ahem.
So, yes, over two weeks after its release I am finally reviewing Arcade Fire's The Suburbs. My reason for delaying this long is, in my opinion, far more valid than the one I have for this week's procrastination: I had to let this album become ingrained in my head. One usually has to listen to an album two or three times before the songs come into their own and stand apart from one another. This is no different for me and my two week delay allowed The Suburbs to ferment, so to speak.
8/12/2010
Review - Summer Music Roundup
My media purchasing habits tend to come in phases: in my first year of university I amassed a stack of new DVDs; during my second year it seemed I was purchasing every awesome comic collection I could get my hands on; with the following summer and this past school year I went on a book-buying spree. All three of these crazes have come and gone much to the chagrin of my bank account (as well as the mother who partly finances me). More recently--as in, from the beginning of May onward--I initiated the next iteration, that being music.
Though I adore music to the same degree as any other art medium (which is to say a lot), I tend to be behind the times--and yes, this is coming from a newspaper arts editor. I never listened to Arcade Fire's magnificent 2004 debut, Funeral, until last summer, nearly five years after its release. My intense Tool, Radiohead and Nine Inch Nails fandoms began a decade after each band's formation and, at most, a full year before their next release. And of course I'm still consuming David Bowie and Pink Floyd long after both artists were in their respective heydays. As such, my music spree has been somewhat of a catching up game--and, again, at the expense of my savings and my mother's love. Thus, I dedicate the rest of this post to briefly reviewing some of the albums I dropped cash on in the past three months, roughly in order of their purchase.
Though I adore music to the same degree as any other art medium (which is to say a lot), I tend to be behind the times--and yes, this is coming from a newspaper arts editor. I never listened to Arcade Fire's magnificent 2004 debut, Funeral, until last summer, nearly five years after its release. My intense Tool, Radiohead and Nine Inch Nails fandoms began a decade after each band's formation and, at most, a full year before their next release. And of course I'm still consuming David Bowie and Pink Floyd long after both artists were in their respective heydays. As such, my music spree has been somewhat of a catching up game--and, again, at the expense of my savings and my mother's love. Thus, I dedicate the rest of this post to briefly reviewing some of the albums I dropped cash on in the past three months, roughly in order of their purchase.
7/30/2010
Musing - These Shoes are Made for Walking, Pt. 2
And here we go again. I don't know how long these pedestrian tales (no pun intended) will continue, given that I've taken up bike riding in the last hour or so, but I have at least one more anecdote to put down on proverbial paper. Today's is a sort of blast from the past, thankfully sans Brendan Fraser.
I apologize in advance for this entry's lack of pictures. In an entirely unsurprising turn of events no photos of Brantford's north end can be found in a Google Image search, and I'm too lazy and bereft of transportation to take another stroll and snap some pictures. Thus tonight's post may seem aesthetically drab. Then again, I did decorate my previous entry with photos of Brantford's most dilapidated buildings, so I'm not exactly operating at a loss.
I apologize in advance for this entry's lack of pictures. In an entirely unsurprising turn of events no photos of Brantford's north end can be found in a Google Image search, and I'm too lazy and bereft of transportation to take another stroll and snap some pictures. Thus tonight's post may seem aesthetically drab. Then again, I did decorate my previous entry with photos of Brantford's most dilapidated buildings, so I'm not exactly operating at a loss.
7/29/2010
Musing - These Shoes are Made for Walking, Pt. 1
In the words of Aaron Lewis of Staind, "It's been a while." I figure once I get back to school and take up my editorial position proper I can return to posting on this blog on a regular basis (as if I ever did). Though I can't pinpoint why, I find that Ottawa breeds a better writing atmosphere than Brantford. Maybe it's due to its greater number of Starbucks, thus affording me more opportunities to sit by a window, sip on a chai latte, jab away at my laptop keyboard and generally put on airs.
However, this and--hopefully--the next few posts centre on my hometown of Brantford, where I was born, raised and spent the first 18 years of my life. Specifically, I'm going to use up bandwidth by prattling on about the series of long, sweat-producing walks I've opted to take over the past week. Being on a two week break from work I have more time in the day to putt around and cross half the length of the city just for the Hell of it. I wouldn't label myself as a "pro walker," but I've been strutting my stuff for so long that the actual mental energy I expend while on a stroll amounts to "Is that a car? Shit, better get back on the sidewalk." This being as such, my mind wanders and I ponder over any number of things. What follows is a relatively brief summary of where I've gone on my walks and what I've thought during.
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