How To Make A 'Worship Song' And Get Super Famous

11 January 2014, 11.30pm.

WARNING: Major sarcasm alert. This is definitely not for the easily offended.

How to make a 'good' 'worship' song (note the liberal use of sarcastic quotes):

Things you need:
A mega-church, preferably in Texas somewhere.
A YouTube account.
The services of a professional video recording/production company.
A 'band name,' usually consisting of the name of your church with the word 'worship' tacked on the end.
Several thousand people to fill your auditorium during the set (mostly in the early-twenties demographic).

Step 1: Load up the stage.
Atmospheric purple lighting (yes, it must be purple), super troupers, an otherwise dim auditorium, three to seven guitarists, a drum set in a shadowed corner, one electric piano, a lone vocalist in the centre of the stage with a microphone and an iPad very prominently displayed on a music stand/pulpit.
If the vocalist is male, he must have an acoustic guitar and a mic stand. He should also be wearing a white or light-coloured button-up shirt which should not be tucked into his black skinny jeans. For maximum 'relevance' (how I loathe that word!), he should also be wearing Crocs. The successful worship pastor will also have a beard and at least one large, very visible, ambiguous tattoo.
If the vocalist is female, her hair should be shoulder-length, straightened, and preferably dark-coloured. Make-up is acceptable and in fact encouraged (for relevance, of course -- after all, God doesn't make mistakes, right?). She should wear a dark-coloured top, skinny jeans and shoes that are fashionable and expensive-looking (though not necessarily actually expensive). Jewelry is restricted to a couple of metallic-coloured bangles and maybe some dangle earrings. She is also forbidden to have her eyes open for more than a total of six seconds of the entire song.
Note that everybody on the stage must be white, with the possible exception of a female vocalist (who may be of Asian or possibly Hispanic descent in order to demonstrate that God loves people from all races).

Step 2: The intro.
If the vocalist is female: Put a female blonde with straightened hair in front of the keyboard. Have her play an extremely slow phrase in 4/4 time, preferably using only whole notes, but half and quarter notes are permitted in extreme circumstances. She must repeat this exact phrase, over and over and over again, in excess of six or seven minutes. She must also close her eyes, slowly shake her head from side to side at appropriate moments, and gently sway her upper body forward and backward as if hypnotised (this sends the very clear message to the audience -- sorry, 'congregation' -- that they too should be hypnotised by the revolutionary F-C-G chord progression).
If the vocalist is male: It is acceptable, in extraordinary cases, to use the classic drumstick-time-signature intro, but nothing too exuberant. Temper the enthusiasm. The all-powerful God might go deaf, you know. However, for 'slower' songs, follow the piano intro as described under the 'female vocalist' heading.

*Please note that throughout the remainder of this guide we will be assuming you're going for the more common and more boring -- sorry, powerful -- slower worship song.

Step 3: The first verse.
The first verse (actually, the only verse) should deal primarily with the subject of oneself and one's warm fuzzy feelings -- 'how You loved me,' 'how You save me,' 'oh, what You've done for me,' et cetera. Actually focusing on God and worshipping Him due to His beauty and goodness and might would be absurd and might 'turn off' your ultra-hip, 'seeking' crowd. The vocalist's eyes, as previously noted, should be closed. If female, she should also shake her head side to side, slowly, at appropriate moments (usually on the words 'how' and 'You'). Halfway through the first verse, the drummer should do a soft roll on the cymbals (author's note: I'm pretty sure that's not what they're actually called, but I don't know what the correct name is). Also note that the use of complete and/or logical sentences in the song structure is optional and in fact discouraged.

Step 4: The chorus.
The volume of the keyboard may change here, to signify that we are now entering the chorus part and that the audience/congregation should raise their hands and close their eyes accordingly. (If you want to get really radical, the keyboardist can change keys. But be careful! You should not attempt this unless you have at least a Bachelor's in music and even then this should not be attempted more than once per concert -- sorry, service.) The vocals become more earnest. The lyrics should consist of the same phrase repeated over and over again. Again, proper grammar and syntax should be avoided at all costs.

Step 5: The remainder of the song.
The rest of the song consists of the chorus being repeated at least a half a dozen times. The instruments then fade out, and the chorus is repeated a cappella about two dozen times (audience participation is heavily encouraged, if not politely demanded). Then the instruments come back in and the audience and musicians repeat the chorus in a slow, gentle sort of way, while the vocalist raises one hand (if female), or both hands (if male) and tilts their face upwards with a rapturous look on their face. Be careful that the eyes stay closed. They may speak or sing a random assortment of the following very handy stock phrases:
'Cry out to Him.'
'Thank Him.'
'Yes, Lord.'
'We love you, Lord.'
...and so on. They may also repeat lines from the chorus one phrase before everyone else sings them. Be very careful here. You could make or break the song at this point. Don't you dare open your eyes -- it'll kill the atmosphere of spontaneity. Be very reluctant to let the song go. You should at this point be pushing the seven-or-eight-minute mark. Eventually, long after everyone's bored out of their minds (but won't admit it because they had been trained to feel ashamed of boredom in a 'worship service'), let the song fade to oblivion... very... very... slowly. For best results, let the song fade so it sounds like it's ending, then after murmuring the chorus a cappella once or twice, bring it back again and continue for a while, then let it fade. Repeat. Ad nauseum.

Step 6: Fame and fortune.
Put the professionally-recorded full-length live video of the song on YouTube. Send the link to your local Christian radio station. Get a CD put into the Christian bookstores (be certain the album cover has a picture of the crowd -- I mean congregation -- on both the front and the back to show how serious you are about your worship concerts -- sorry, services). Make thousands of dollars as the Christian-consumer-culture drones buy everything with your name on it. Be fangirled over by every female Christian ever.

Tip: The slower and more reluctant the song is to end, the more people will call your song 'powerful' and 'moving.' This translates directly into sales. Just be careful to keep that script of humility at the forefront of your memory. As soon as you stray from the 'we never expected this, wow, God is moving in this generation' script, you will be blacklisted by the loving Christian community.

You're welcome.

Music Day - Ba Ba Ba Ba

This song is catchy as heck. Do not listen to it if you're not prepared to be singing it all darn week. That said, it is a fun to sing along with. It could be worse. You could have Funkytown or something stuck in your head.

Despite the inane title, this song is quite deep. It opens with a cutting observation of how society (including a lot of us in the 'Christian' subculture) operates as Michael Roe purrs:
Welcome to truth custom-made
Come in and have some lemonade
Reality will re-adjust while we evade...

The rest of the song's lyrics develop the theme against a verse structure of smooth keyboard and a throbbing staccato synth before launching into a chorus backed by guitar work that still gives me chills a full year after I first heard it.

Title: Ba Ba Ba Ba
Artist: 77s
Album: All Fall Down
Year: 1984
Label: Lo-Fidelity Records
Listen and purchase from the artist here.

Music Day - Reader's Digest

Where had this song been all my life? Seriously. Such sarcasm... Usually I have a hard time liking Larry Norman's stuff (his voice annoys me), but here the sarcastic delivery trumps the nasal droning voice. I mean, seriously: They brought back a big bag of rocks.
Only cost $13 billion.
Must be nice rocks.
If it hadn't been quiet hours in the dorm when I first heard this, I would have literally screamed with laughter. This is exactly my take on so much of life... also, this song sort of reminds me of DA's Through The Speakers, musically.

I should clarify though, for all you people who are gaping at the screen going "She doesn't know this album and she calls herself a Christian rock fan?" rest assured that I know this album -- my father has the vinyl -- but I don't think I'd ever actually heard it all the way through. I'm certainly familiar with The Six O'Clock News, The Great American Novel, The Outlaw, Righteous Rocker #1, and (one of my dad's favourites to quote when the topic of rock music comes up) Why Should The Devil Have All The Good Music. But for some reason, nobody talks about this half-rapped piece of dryly served rock genius:

Title: Reader's Digest
Artist: Larry Norman
Album: Only Visiting This Planet
Year: 1972
Label: MGM
iTunes here; YouTube here.

Much good. Very sarcasm. Enjoy.

Music Day

I had this guy's music in my head all day at work... I Want To Be A Clone, On The Fritz, Meltdown... so we're making the small leap from the sarcastic Terry Taylor to the sarcastic (and cynical) Steve Taylor. (I may or may not be a sarcastic person...)

It continues to puzzle me that for as much as I like Steve Taylor's solo material, I only own four of his songs and that's been the number for a long, long time. Why only four? I have no clue. I like quite a bit of his stuff (as heard to YouTube) and iTunes does carry I Predict 1990 and a greatest-hits compilation that actually gives you a decent cross-section of his career to date. Plus, I saw both I Want To Be A Clone and Meltdown on vinyl at the record shop the other day (I didn't have enough cash on me, or I totally would have bought them. Along with the Vital Signs LP (White Heart), the Run From The Darkness LP (Daniel Band), and that Barnabas LP I saw that I can't remember the name of right now).

I like the mood of this song. It makes you think, possibly more than the lyrics do. There's a melancholy hollow-ness in the sound, even as it races past. The sonic story of so many 9-to-5 drones -- once-wonderful and amazing people caught up in the song of little dollar signs floating just out of reach, just beyond 'a little more overtime'...

Title: What Is The Measure Of Your Success?
Artist: Steve Taylor
Album: I Predict 1990
Year: 1987
Label: Sparrow
iTunes here; YouTube here.

Brooding sound, heart-piercing story, haunting question. As for the video, I thought it odd at first, but I just watched it again and it feels like genius now. There's all this big set-up and seriousness, and for what? You'll have to watch the video to find out exactly what, but even the absurdity of it makes a point -- 'you think this is ridiculous? What about wasting your entire life in the pursuit of little pieces of paper?'

Well put, Steve. Very well put.


I know better
Still I run...

Music Day

(This is one of those 'awesomely eighties' songs. The usual warning -- if you don't like eighties music, go read a different blog post. Also, don't expect anything deep and soul-wrenching from today's song. Funny, yes. Genius, yes. Life-altering? Probably not.)

So remember a while back when I mentioned my Daniel Amos collection consisted of three tracks?

Yeah, well, it kind of grew since then. Seriously, Doppelgänger was like a drug. One hit and it dragged me down to the underworld. I now own like two dozen DA tracks and once I get paid later this month I'm buying another album (two if the budget allows it). (Yes, 'music' is a budget item here in my weird little world.)

(It's The Eighties, So Where's Our) Rocket Packs.

You just know a song is going to be good when it has a title like that.

Title pretty much says it all, actually. Sarcastic and eighties. I'm also pretty sure this title has the longest parenthetical aside ever in a song title. I'll see people refer to the song just as Rocket Packs (admittedly, it's faster to type), and there's always this moment where I have no clue what they're talking about.

Fair warning: this is heavy on the synth. Some would call it dated, and that it may be, but I happen to like it. (Awesomely eighties, people, awesomely eighties.) I also happen to quite like the synthesized vocals -- adds to the 'futuristic' charm of the song, as do the robotic-sounding synthesizer asides. (A little history lesson for all you hip, cool kids -- this was the precursor to autotune, only here the singer still had to be able to actually sing.)

In a weird way that I can't quite put my finger on, this song (indeed, most of the record) makes me think of ABBA -- what they might have sounded like had they continued into the eighties. I realise it might seem like a bit of a stretch (and the DA diehards will probably lynch me for that), but you listen to ABBA's The Visitors album; especially the title track and Two For The Price Of One... stylistically, this stuff isn't actually that far removed.

But that's enough rambling. Here's the song.

Title: (It's The Eighties, So Where's Our) Rocket Packs
Artist: Daniel Amos
Album: Vox Humana
Year: 1984
Label: Refuge Records
iTunes here; YouTube here.
Support the artist: Buy the CD on their website here (scroll down past the 'featured' section to the part labelled 'Daniel Amos').

Disregard the entire iTunes Store review. Bull crap, pure and simple. Can't the iTunes people ever say anything nice about the stuff they carry? Might help your sales if you didn't criticise everything you offer... just saying.

The only point from that review that's valid is no, this is definitely not Doppelgänger. While that's sad, because Doppelgänger is freaking brilliant, this is still a good record. Yes, it has synthesizers. No, that does not automatically make it horrible. Some of us like keyboards and synths and think that the whole idea of the obligatory guitar solo (except the ones on Doppelgänger and White Heart's Bye Bye Babylon) should just die already. If you don't like the synths, don't listen to the music. Go destroy your mind with dubstep or country or whatever it is you actually like (since it apparently isn't eighties music). Just shut your trap and let those of us who like synths enjoy them without having to justify ourselves all the time.

There. Rant made. Now you can go enjoy the song. And rest assured that you'll be seeing more from Vox Humana on Music Day in the future (I freaking love this album -- there were at least three other songs from there that nearly became today's feature). But next week, I'll give you a break from Dr. Edward Daniel Taylor... I promise.

Music Day

I've been cramming my head full of classicchristian247.com due the the illustrious novel-writing occasion and last night (or early this morning), I heard this song.

Dude. I laughed so hard. Listen all the way to the end -- he gets so sarcastic at the end. It's great.

Title: So You Wanna Go Back To Egypt
Artist: Keith Green
Album: So You Wanna Go Back To Egypt
Year: 1980
Label: Last Days Ministries/Pretty Good Records
iTunes here; YouTube here.

It took a bit for me to warm up to this song (until the line the ground opened up and had some of us for lunch). I never realised Keith Green was this versatile. Nor did I realise how great a lyricist he was -- think of mixing the Steve Taylor/Peter Furler team with Larry Norman. Great stuff. (Seriously, who else would ever come up with a line like Manna burgers!)

Music Day

This man is probably one of the most controversial artists in the history of Christian music. And for once, it wasn't because there was a beat to his material (as was the case with artists like Petra and Larry Norman).

Listen to the lyrics of today's song and I think it'll be self-evident (especially if you've ever been a part of a church congregation that was more concerned about tradition and appearances than Jesus). Stereotypical church pew-warmers do not take kindly to biting satire such as this. Think of Lecrae with way more sarcasm.

I think something I read on the back of a greatest-hits album sums up this artist's recordings pretty well... '...his music either offended people or woke them up.'

You know, as I type that I realise that pretty much describes the Gospel in general. It'll either offend you or wake you up. Who are we as artists to dumb it down to the point where it's not only entirely inoffensive, it's a complete waste of time whether you're a Christian or not? To omit any part of the Gospel is to change it. If it's changed, it's no longer the Gospel but some rule-direction religion merely based on it. In a matter of eternal life and death of millions of people, this is not something to skim over.

Ah, but I'm going off on a tangent again. Here's the song:

Title: I Want To Be A Clone

Artist: Steve Taylor

Album: I Want To Be A Clone

Year: 1983

Label: Sparrow Records

iTunes here; YouTube here.
(Just a warning if you love the song so much you click over to the live version in the YouTube sidebar: there is an almost illegal amount of eighties hair in that clip.)

Does the name look familiar? That's because Steve Taylor is the man who helped the Newsboys rise to fame nearly twenty years ago now (has it really been that long? I feel old now...). He's written scores of songs with Peter Furler for the band and for Peter Furler's solo album (released last summer). I'm pretty sure he produced the Newsboys for much of the '90s, though don't quote me on that.

They told me that I'd fall away unless I follow what they say

"Who needs the Bible anyway?"

How To Spot An Idiot

'It's official... signal at 12:20 it even passed on TV. Facebook will start charging this summer. If you copy this on your wall your icon will turn blue and Facebook will be free for you. Please pass this message if not your count will be deleted. P.S. this is serious the icon turns blue, so please put this on your wall.'

Between 12.30 last night and 1.30 this afternoon, my Facebook news feed became flooded with this one post.
It's the official mark of stupidity -- the chain status/wall post/message/'like' page claiming that Facebook is going to start charging. It's full of misspellings, weird grammar, repetition, and things that don't even make sense (what does 'signal at 12:20' even mean? 'Your icon will turn blue'... what icon?)

First off, if Facebook was going to implement a major, major change such as charging money, they would send you an official message from the Facebook team through... Facebook (what a coincidence!). They've done it before; when they update the privacy settings for instance. If you log in one day and Facebook asks for money and you haven't heard anything about it, obviously you haven't checked your Facebook in like six months, therefore you don't use it often enough to bother keeping up the account, free or not.
Of course, a change like that would almost certainly hit the news, but I'm very sure every Facebook account holder would get the news directly from Facebook very far in advance.

Also, assuming this post was true, it would tell you which TV network it showed up on, wouldn't it? TV in this age includes thousands of channels. Just saying 'it was on TV' does not make your claim (or anyone else's) valid.

One more thing... no way on earth will posting a certain message on a certain webpage change an icon. It would require too much extra time to build the code to make that happen and then be able to launch it on several million accounts all at once. Even their message/chat integration thing was rolled out slowly over a period of at least six months. To write the code that would make a certain (unspecified) icon turn blue when a particular (highly unprofessionally written) status was posted would be more complicated then the message/chat integration and therefore would take at least as much time to roll out for everyone. It would not start working for everyone all at the same time as the status insinuates.

So next time you see one of these things and are tempted to repost it... don't. Think through it logically and then decide not to post it. Because if you do repost it, it will make you look a huge bumbling idiot to your family, your friends, your enemies who are your Facebook friends anyway, and that really cute, really smart guy (or girl) you have a huge crush on.

Music Day

This song was acquired through what could only be a miracle in the radio industry.
A few months ago I had turned on the radio for some odd reason and they were playing one of these weekend countdown shows (which I usually don't listen to because really, who in their right mind wants to listen to Chris August's already mediocre Starry Night for the 4,786,978,492nd time since you decided you hated it with every bone in your body?).
But the song sounded different, unlike anything I'd ever heard before on a Christian station. Try as I might, I couldn't pick out the words (my usual method of locating songs -- Google the lyrics and hopefully be led to the title and artist). But it sounded like a fun song so I kept listening.
And then it happened. A miracle to end all miracles (well, almost). It will never happen again to anyone.
They gave the song title and band name.
I know. It shocked me too. But I somehow had the presence of mind to repeat the information to myself over and over as I rushed for a notepad and wrote it down.
And I'm glad I did. I have never heard this song anywhere else ever again and, in fact, I haven't heard anything of this band anywhere before or since.

Title: Music
Artist: Manic Drive
Album: Blue
Year: 2009
Label: Whiplash Records
It's on iTunes here and YouTube here.

And as I'm looking it up on YouTube I just totally found out they're Canadian! Finally a potentially decent Canadian band!

Blogging

Sometimes I think I take this whole blogging thing too seriously.
I have no idea what to blog about because they say an ideal blog has a fairly definite focus. I know of some excellent blogs which don't have that, but it's still easier to post something if you have some idea of what you're expected to post. There are some things you can't really blend together and my interests are all of those.
In addition, I'm having this creepy feeling that I'm losing my best posts before the ideas are even half-formed because my internal censor thinks they're not worthy of a blog post.
I could fall back on the old sarcastic approach to life, but that's gotten me into some very deep trouble too many times. I've lost a lot of friends as a result of the same scenario: I say something which I thought was very clearly sarcasm; they take offense and never speak to me again for the rest of their living days.
So I am left with memories of good times and people-watching. At least until I start touring with my future potential dance troupe/band and become famous.
However, in the meantime there might be something in writing down my childhood memories and my observations in people-watching...
Any thoughts from my readers?

The Free Alberta Highway

Two days ago I was driving on the Anthony Henday highway that goes around Edmonton. The purpose of this highway, I'm told, was so one could go from the south side to the north side in fifteen minutes. To the credit of whoever planned it, that is generally the case.

Unfortunately, even though the highway has only been in heavy use for like three years, they have already decided that rather than fill in the moonscape that is 50th Street, they must do their construction on the almost butter-smooth Anthony Henday.

I'm here to tell you few things are more frustrating than sitting in an endless string of traffic going exactly six kilometres an hour for a good half hour (at least). Those orange construction signs line the roads, telling the traffic to condense into one lane but when nothing materialises in the cleared-out lane, the impatients pull out and zoom ahead -- only to finally reach a physical barricade a kilometre later and have to merge back into the lane they just left. Which makes the lane insanely slow for those of us already in it because these idiots keep sticking their hood ornaments in our way so we can't just suck up to each other's bumpers and keep the impatient blockheads out.

So they merge in and we continue. Beads on a string, being slowly added at one end and pushed along a thread, no hope of escape.

Finally, after almost half the highway, we see evidence that the construction signs might actually be telling the truth -- there's a pair of highway maintenance trucks.

As we pass it we see... two men, one holding a shovel.

That's it.

I have been delayed for a half hour because of two men and one shovel.

The Great Misunderstanding

Why people think kids bring firearms to school...

Why kids really bring firearms to school...

To break into those stupid juice boxes.

Why I Hate Spring

According to the calendar and the sun-watchers here in Canada, it is now spring. This is a revolting development if you ask me. I hate spring. And here are the reasons why (in no particular order):

1. Mud.
I live in a very rural area. The only roads for the next four kilometres are all dirt. In the spring, this means industrial-strength mud. I have seen tractors get stuck in the stuff. No lie.

2. Melting snow.
I love snow. I don't even mind driving through it that much (in fact, it's preferable around here to drive through snow because you can at least follow the tracks other vehicles have left behind rather than dry your eyes out trying to see the centre line that hasn't been repainted for fifteen years).
One of the most painful things in the world is to watch the lovely pure white snow melt. Even more painful is to listen to people callously say things like, 'hopefully the snow melts soon' and 'finally some sun -- maybe the snow will melt.' It's like they actually enjoy watching something so beautiful shrivel up and die a horrible lingering death (see also #4).

3. Standing water.
While admittedly fun to splash around in if you're dressed for it, when you're not dressed for it the only parking space you can ever find anywhere is right in the middle of a puddle deep enough to rival Lake Winnipeg.

4. Inanely cheerful people.
No offense to my dear friends who like spring, but collectively you tend to get very annoying very quickly. Especially on Facebook. Few things are more irritating than logging in and having to wade through posts from 72 otherwise fairly mature people saying 'Sun, sun, Mr Golden Sun, please shine down on me.' (See #8.)

5. Chronically warm housemates.
I don't care that the calendar says spring. That calendar was most likely printed in California. If you haven't heard yet, they have a completely different seasonal schedule than we do in Alberta. Do not tell me to put on a sweater; in case you haven't noticed I'm wearing seven of them already and in fact do not own any more sweaters to put on.
Furthermore I do not care that the weatherman says there might possibly, maybe, perhaps, if you're lucky, be one ray of sun peeking through the clouds for about ten seconds. One ray of sun is not sufficient to melt the thirty-foot high snowdrift on your yard, so stop squealing like an idiot. Nor is it sufficient to warm the air to the point where one can wear shorts and a t-shirt and go barefoot. I have a news flash for you -- it is still minus fifteen out; SHUT THE FLIPPING WINDOWS!

6. 'Fresh' air.
In the city, spring means fresh air. Like actual fresh air that I really don't mind breathing in because it's nice.
In the country, however, spring means fertiliser. Fertiliser means animal dung. Spread all over the abundance of fields around here. And trucked back and forth and back and forth across the roads you live on to get to said fields. Also, the increase of sun (see #8) means an increase of heat, which leads to an increase of smell.
Even more intolerable are the people who have been in the country long enough that their brains have been permanently warped by the smell and claim to enjoy it. These unfortunate folk will actually roll down windows, stick their heads out and breathe deep whenever they pass a fertiliser truck or a tractor fresh from the field. Then they will spend the next ten minutes asking if you were dropped on your head as an infant because you still have functioning olfactory glands.

7. Bugs.
I despise bugs. We don't get that many here in Canada (I'm told from those who have been Stateside), but the ones we do have are massive and seem to have an unnatural love for my bedroom. When you require three hours and a cement block larger than your dog to kill the three-inch-round spider on your wall, you have a problem. It's 1 to 4 am. You should be sleeping.
You also have a problem if a moth the size of a semi trailer gets caught in the fluorescent 'twisty' light bulb and literally burns half to death but can still fly fast enough to evade your cement block.

8. Brighter (and longer-lasting) sun.
I don't mind the sun -- to a point. However, when you spend an average of an hour a day driving into the sun, you get a pounding headache very quickly. Add to that logging into Facebook and finding an abundance of brainwashed robots singing the sun's praises (see #4), and it all makes you want to go out and buy yourself a firearm.
I'll admit that I'm one of those famed 'night owls.' I do my best work in the dark. The longer lasting sun forces me to stay up later to get anything of worth done and thus I oversleep the following morning. Mornings are bad enough without having everyone biting your head off because you're late for everything. (Also see #9.)

9. Daylight Savings Time. Enough said.

There are many other reasons why spring simply should be skipped over, but I'm sure you get my drift. Spring sucks, winter's cool, and that's all I have to say. Thank you for your time and attention to this very pressing matter.

Why Canadians Tend To Think The Americans Are Out To Get Them

Last Music Day, I was quite excited about the discovery of a suitcase full of old cassette tapes in my father's workshop. I spent several hours Friday evening importing songs from the PFR tape featured in the Music Day post. Over the course of five or six hours, I had imported exactly two songs.
Yes, two.
It appeared that several years of storage in a cold and not-very-well ventilated (not to mention dusty) building had begun to take its toll on the tape. There were muffled patches and places were it droned a bit. Still, the first two tracks were listenable (not nearly CD quality, but listenable) and I added them to my iTunes library. Then I went to bed.
The next morning I awakened giddy at the prospect of spending the day adding old rock songs to my music collection. I showered, ate breakfast, sat down at the computer, and began importing from where I'd left off the previous night.
Two minutes and forty-five seconds later, I began to have my doubts about how well the day was going to turn out. The tape, which had played all right for the first half of the song, started to drag horribly. Driving guitars and the crashing of drums take on a nightmarish sound when slowed to a quarter of their normal speed.
I let it record until the end of the song, but I knew there was no way I would be able to fix the drag using the software. It was too severe.
My father heard it from the next room as it was recording and came to listen.
"It's dragging that badly?" he asked.
I nodded.
"It wasn't that bad when we listened to it yesterday, was it?"
"No."
He took the tape out of the player and put it in another player we had in the house -- one that had been known to work (but, of course, couldn't connect to the computer or we would have used that one in the first place). We found the exact place in the music where it had been dragging and listened. It came through completely clear and at the proper tempo.
"It must be that player then," my father said. "I have another one in the workshop you can try."
He went out and found two. I connected one of them and re-imported the song. Nearly perfect.
I continued to import that side of the tape, intending to get all the songs and then go back and re-import the first two (to see if I could get better quality copies). It was all going very well. I finished the first side, flipped the tape over, pressed Play, and waited.
And waited... and waited... and waited.
I checked the little window. The spools were turning; all seemed to be normal. Still, this was quite a long wait. I stopped the player and took out the cassette. The tape around the take-up spool was a bit loose and out of habit I gave it a few manual turns with my finger to tighten it. It didn't appear to tighten. I tried turning the other direction although I was certain I had turned it the proper direction the first time. No effect. So I gave it a good half-dozen turns in what I knew to be the proper direction. It still didn't tighten.
How could this be? It had just been in a properly working player. The tension had been fine until now.
Perhaps the tape had caught on something. I looked at the bottom of the cassette.
There was nothing.
No tape, either clear or magnetic.
Oh no...
I rushed out and showed my father. He examined it, but declared the damage permanent. The cassette had no screws that could have been removed to open it; and thanks to my patience letting the broken end wrap around the spool over and over again, the ends of the tape were far inside the cassette -- irretrievable.
I checked my old friend, the iTunes Store. Believe it or not, I had finally found an album that the iTunes Store does not yet carry. I submitted a request, but I was bordering desperate. I had been on a roll; I couldn't just stop.
What more could I do? Where else could I get a copy of the album without having to wait an indefinite amount of time?
Then an idea came to me. Actually, two ideas -- eBay and Amazon.
I went to Amazon.com and quickly found a few copies, the least expensive being a 'used' (but still packaged) CD for $3.98 US. Not bad, I thought. I proceeded to buy it.
Unfortunately, I live in a very rural area. This means I do not have a house number or a P.O. box. The only way our mail carrier can tell our mail from the neighbours' is by the name written above the address. This is perfectly acceptable to any other shipping company you can find. They may think it a bit odd, but they'll still send the material. Lo and behold it always gets here.
But not Amazon.com. You must, must, MUST have a P.O. box to get something shipped to you. Oh, and an actual town -- not the little pinprick thirteen kilometres away that is home to several thousand people, thank you very much. Oh, does that postal code have letters in it?
On any other site you order something from, you select 'Canada' in the list of countries, and everything else adjusts itself accordingly. On Amazon.com, you select 'Canada' in the list of countries, and it's like sirens go off. Their servers overheat and go into error loops. Smoke fills the building. The safe housing billions of dollars is about to explode.
The Canadians are coming! Arm yourselves! Man the cannons! Women and children first!
Frustrated with Amazon.com's stubbornness, I decided to see if there was an Amazon.ca. There was, but there the cheapest copy available was twenty-two dollars. Twenty-two dollars! I could go to the ridiculously overpriced local Christian bookstore and buy the exact same album for fifteen, tops (and I would have except said bookstore only sells albums released in the past two months and even then you're delving into ancient history. Don't even ask about an obscure band's farewell album from 1997).
Unfortunately, my desperation had clouded my sense (yes I have some, stop laughing). I bought it. Once the shipping cost was added to it (because of course it was coming from Oregon or something like that), I had relieved myself of nearly thirty dollars.
I am the queen of cheapskates. Anything more than fifteen dollars is a major purchase. It isn't that I can't afford to pay thirty dollars, it's just that I could have gotten the exact same item for only a bit more than four dollars if Amazon.com hadn't been so flipping stupid (and if I hadn't fallen to their level and bought it anyway).
If you ask me, it's a conspiracy theory to strip the 'polite' Canadians of every dollar they own. But regardless of whether it's true or not, I will never again use Amazon's 'service.' Whether you try Amazon.com or Amazon.ca, it's a ripoff. Pure and simple.

A Test

Do you know the easiest way to tell if your 'friends' and relatives think you're stupid or not?
If not, I shall now enlighten you. It's very easy, only three steps.

Step one: Get in a motor accident in which you very easily could have been rather violently killed BUT be perfectly okay except for some breathing problems thanks to the air bag. (For best results, make sure the vehicle you were driving is crushed beyond recognition. Also be sure to take pictures, although a very graphic verbal description will do in a pinch.)

Step two: Get a new vehicle, get back on the road and improve your driving skills over the next few months or so.

Step three: Nearly six months later, go on an hour-long (one way) drive in broad daylight after a snowfall (note that the snow must not still be falling. This is very important. If the snow is still falling it will affect the results of the test).

On the morning of the aforementioned two-hour drive after a snowfall, people will come out of the proverbial woodwork, people who haven't spoken to you in several years, telephoning and asking if you're still going on that trip and if so is anyone coming with you.
The amount of panic they display when you tell them that yes, you are still going on this trip, and yes, you're the driver will tell you exactly how stupid they think you are.

Interpreting the results:
If they say, 'Oh okay. Well, drive safe. Anyway, the real reason I called is...' and continue on to give another perfectly legitimate reason to be calling you, then they most likely do not think you are stupid at all and are merely displaying a normal healthy amount of concern for your safety. These individuals obviously trust you enough not to panic but love you enough to care about your well-being. (Either that or they are very good actors, especially when downplaying the actual real reason they telephoned.)

If they say, 'WHAT?!? Are you insane?' they most likely think you are completely daft for even considering the notion, but do tread carefully when met with this response, as they may think you're crazy for different reasons. This response is particularly tricky to figure out despite its simplicity on the surface.
They may be genuinely concerned for you. Perhaps they have already driven some of the roads that day and know that they're worse than they appear. If this is the case you can safely feel that they actually love you and think you're a wonderful, mostly intelligent person and want you to not run into any hardship because they can't bear the thought of you being involved in another horrible accident.
However, they may also think you are too stupid to realise that you need to use caution and they figure that it's safer for everyone (including themselves, if they happen to be going anywhere) if you stay off the road.

If they say, 'Oh' or 'Oh really?' in a rather high-pitched surprised sounding voice, followed by a rather long awkward pause, you are dealing with someone who thinks you're a complete and total certified idiot and you should terminate the phone call as soon as possible. (Saying, 'yes, see you at my funeral' and then hanging up may be the most effective manner of doing this, but please note that this particular method has not yet been tested and therefore if you attempt this please know that you are doing so at your own risk.)

What you do with the results of this test is not certain. Studies have shown that generally the results of these sorts of experiments get published, but you may not want to publish lists of 'friends' and relatives who think you're stupid in any public place. Doing so may result in being disowned or sued. I suppose you could write the lists down and stash them in the drawer of your bedside table for reference when you move out in five years though.

Please note: Results may vary depending on your particular friends and relatives and how well you know them. Sarcasm or 'gentle teasing' on their part may be a factor in their response. This test is not scientifically proven to be 100% accurate. I assume no responsibility for any strained or destroyed relationships that may result from the use of this test.
If you are a subject of a test similar to this that a friend or relative is conducting, please know that while they may be quite aggravated if you freak out every time they have to go somewhere, they do appreciate concern when shown in a gentle, loving way. Do not rub their failure in their face -- they already know that they screwed up. If they didn't they would still be driving around the piece of gnarled scrap metal that went through their first accident because they wouldn't know that their car was totaled and it was their fault. (If you do happen to know anyone like this, do society a favour and notify the proper authorities; as anyone who has been in a serious accident and doesn't know it likely should not still be driving, especially if the lights, steering wheel, doors, windshield, and/or motor of their vehicle have been severely damaged in the accident.) However, the accident victim may still want to talk about their experience as long as you are not judgmental about their role in it. Be considerate and give them a second chance. You're not perfect either.