Posts Tagged ‘tassels’
HBGB – This Thursday!
Winnie Cooper and BeatRoute Magazine present.
HEEBEEGEEBEES at Chapel Arts is a Halloween inspired live music and art exhibition running every Thursday in October with a finale party Saturday, October 30th.
The series features some of the best cutting edge local artists at the former funeral home turned art gallery.
This Thursday come down to check out art work by photographer Jen Osborne, who has worked with Vanity Fair and Jesse Corcoran, who sparked controversy with his Olympic Rings mural.
Music from Babe Rainbow, Cameron Reed of the Music Waste festival, spooky electronic project that landed him on the respected Warp label, and Sean Orr’s music project, Tassels, with the Hyenas djs (Basketball).
If great art work and music are not your thing, there are also $3.50 beers…
Visit the event page for full details on this exciting series.
Married to the Sun
It was a perfect cliche.
An unemployed 30 something blogger eating pot brownies on a beach in Vancouver at 4pm.
It may as well have been lotus.
The driest July on record they say, but black clouds had started to roll in. New heroes had already taken the place of old ones. Patrick with his impossibly flat stomach and grey hairs dried like sand set against his browning body, making beer runs on his cherry-red, fixed gear road bike for five bucks a six pack. There was the weed bakings girl making her rounds with a tupperware container full of treats. There was Al, with a giant upside down Rosy Cross tattooed on his chest, toking on a futuristic vaporizer. There were others too.
It was a scene! I had been doing tours. Walking tours. I had just taken a friend on one, who wanted to interview me for his website, and we ended up at Third Beach. We talked about new myths, like the beaver-shaped rock at the end of Tatlow Trail. He said he liked mud, which I found interesting. He said it was the only way to tell who had been here in the recent past. I thought about the baseball diamond up the road and wondered if kids in the 60s went there; cruising in their Malibu big-blocks and hitting White Spot on the way back for milkshakes.
It had been quite the summer. Just last week I was sitting on this beach, sipping warm cider and smoking cigarettes that didn’t belong to me. I ate a handful of shrooms and melted into the sand until I could recognize each grain of black mica schist, each grain of grey feldspar, each grain of shining glass. But then like a castle it came crumbling down as some kid wept drunkenly into my ear. Turns out he was the best friend of the guy who had punched me in a nightclub about a month earlier. He was full of beer-soaked sincerity so I mentioned something of the oxycontins I received after plastic surgery on my fractured zygoma. I sprayed some lemon juice and chamomile into my hair and disappeared into the west.
It seemed however, that just as it was all beginning it was all beginning to end. I bought a pot cookie from the weed bakings girl for 5 dollars (she let me have them at 5 instead of 7 because I was a preferred customer). As I mentioned, the little fluffy cumulo-cirrus had yielded to a more sinister nimbus. Most of the kids had ceded their section of the beach to the long-shorts. They must have been there to see the fireworks that happen every year in the bay. I suppose this was a good time to disappear.
There is something about the sky just before lightning. If it didn’t sound so prosaic I’d say it was electric. Condensed and ultra-violet, the ions lit up each leaf, each needle of each pine. The birds knew- they told me. The broad green leaves of maple and aspen started clapping until the whole forest was roaring with applause. Baptised by the hail I scrambled for shelter. The cries of others, although giddy, were like restless spirits awaken by the thunder. The hail eased into a light summer rain and I dug myself out of the fox hole I had dived into.
I came across a couple who were taking shelter under a white beach towel. They must have been the ghosts I heard. A few more steps and I froze in my tracks. Not for fear that the lightning overhead was going to strike me, but for a flash of white in the trees. The thunder had woken the two owls. They exuded silence, like a black hole they ate sound. Another flash. It was impossible not to think about forest fires. I skipped from dry patch to dry patch- cedars seemed to offer the best shelter. I hurried past the Seven Sisters to where the bog was busy drinking. I could hear the road before I could see it. Then, the smell of exhaust and the whirr of AC and radios. Then, the blood red blur of brake lights as everyone tried to get out of the park at once.
Steam was rising from the warmed water of Lost Lagoon, creeping like spirits leaving bodies from underneath the shocked marsh reeds. Roses bathed in the moist air, grasping at droplets on their petals. But as soon as it started it stopped. It seems the storm had been entirely localized to Stanley Park. The asphalt on the other side of the lagoon was dry, but for the stream of people heading to English Bay. Sure the summer would go on. There would be the day you couldn’t see the mountains for the smoke purring out from behind them, the sun stabbing through the photochemical haze created by 400 wildfires. But that day was the high water mark. Soon the nights would start sooner and we’d gaze at perseids. Then we’d all be thinking about cahiers and pink rubber erasers.
That’s the day I married the sun.
BY SEAN ORR / TASSELS
Shake Them Tassels
Tassels is Vancouver based artist / musician, Sean Orr who also happens to have a very entertaining Tumbr.
His latest project is for the most part dark and menacing dub. This track has a delightful bouncing glee to it though while maintaining a nightmarish quality….
His new Ep, Blog Step is out and available for a recession friendly $5 purchase hrrr.
Tassels
Tassels is Sean Orr who runs the Vancouver blog, Beyond Robson. This jam is dubstep’y, dark and wavy.
