I’m up here in my room. I don’t write that much these days. I avoid my brain. But these are phases. Life is a series of phases. When we are clear-minded, we recognize them as phases. As we get older and our brain cells die off like dinosaurs we revisit these phases as though they were new, like a goldfish rediscovering his castle every fifteen minutes. Phases. We stop learning. We start only relearning. As though it were learning. And so. Here I am in my room. Typing a broken keyboard. Writing to no-one. Or everyone. Most writing these days is to no-one and everyone. Tweets, status updates, blogs. Everyone and no-one. It is selfish and selfless. It is hugely egotistical and insecure. The internet is a million more ways to cry for attention, but who can resist? Who? What is the point, Glynn? Stop crying for attention. I cry for attention like I’m crying wolf. I dare myself to put this up with out editing it first. Wolf!! Wolf!!! I was learning to write pop songs today. I was invited. At first it made me sick, but in the end it’s really just like putting a puzzle together and puzzles are fun for a certain part of the brain. But it is an odd sensation to finish a song and not be entirely proud of it. To have reservations about its sincerity. I suppose you get over that when you write in that style. You’re just piecing it together. Ay, me. Next week I start choosing songs to put on my new record. Try to narrow it down. I’m only writing this because I feel like I should be writing it on my website. That’s pretty boring of me. There’s a million things I’d rather write about. Like sex. I like to write about sex because it rolls off the tongue, as it were, but I won’t do that here. I am not so lewd as that. Well, I am. But not in public. There’s not a lot else to say from my bedroom tonight. Most of it goes unsaid; I’m sure the great writers are the ones who go beyond the tip of the iceberg. Most of us live like the tip of the iceberg, just like most of us use a small percentage of our brains- we share only a small fraction of our available love and our available selves and our available knowledge. Especially in reserved Canada. The land of the ice. All our little iceberg tips barely peeking out. It’s a lot easier that way. A lot safer. This is a safe place to live.
News
17/12 “Down to Earth” Event
December 28th, with help from family/friends, we’re putting on a fundraiser night at the Media Club in Vancouver to benefit an amazing organization in Bombay called Down to Earth. They work directly in the slum neighbourhoods of Cuffe Parade, S. Bombay, instituting education, sports and performing arts programs. I was lucky enough to get to teach some guitar while i was there.
The night will feature shot acoustic performances from: little ol’ me, Adaline, Ashleigh of Hey Ocean!, Benny Schutze, Bodhi Jones, Cory Woodward, JP of Maurice, Nat Jay, Zach of The Zolas, and then some mayhem from Topless Gay Love Tekno Party DJ Set!!
Go here for all the info: http://www.facebook.com/editevent.php?eid=209479577395&step=2
Here’s some writing i did about my experience with DTE in Bombay last year (below) and here’s a video…Talking to the kids at Down to Earth, Bombay
The Neighbourhood
Dear diary; it’s been a while since I called you that. It’s hot in this city, I feel like I need to shower three times a day. I can’t keep up with the shirts. White’s turning gray. I sit in these stuffy cabs, little hot pods trawling through the swarming madness and noise of this traffic. I turn the driver’s meters on myself now, though, to avoid arguments. Click that little flag down outside the car. Tip 10 rupees. That’s water for nearly a week if you live in the slum.
I been down there a few times these last couple days. I didn’t want to sit around, this city needs so much help. This country. I found Dev through some googling and emailing. He runs Down to Earth- a charity organization for slum kids. It’s not big, it’s not old. Dev got a hut built on stilts in the middle of the huge slum beside the World Trade Center, South Bombay. It’s beside a vacant lot that’s a CEO’s helicopter landing pad and a popular cricket ground for the kids. Open space is precious.
A couple youths that live in this ‘neighbourhood’ are helping Dev out- he wants these kids to build confidence and knowledge, so he facilitates school-type learning as well as the recreational sports and arts. These young guys are helping kids from the different slum areas put on a show- mainly dancing. The kids are out of school now, so they rehearse every day. I’m too late to help out with the show, so I’m teaching the young guys guitar- they’ve always wanted to learn. I bought em a travel guitar which Dev will let them have when they’re ready- he doesn’t believe these kids should accept handouts because it breeds dependence which destroys confidence and ambition.
The ‘neighbourhood’ I’ve been shown around twice so far- once by Dev, who spends most his free time there, and once by Sameer, who lives in the middle of it. I don’t like the word slum sometimes- because millions of people in this city call these places home. They make these places Home by the sweat of their brow. But at the same time, ‘neighbourhood’ or ‘village’ conveys the wrong images. The hotel room I’m sitting in right now is more than twice the size of Sameer’s home- he lives there with his mother and father, grandfather, sister and her 2 infants. A neat little kitchen area in the corner occupies about three square feet of floor space, with modest tin dishes hung on the wall. They have been here for longer so they’re lucky enough to have a hut made from cement- newer arrivals have to become architectural artists in the medium of corrugated metal, plastic, jute, bamboo and palm leaves. Down by the bay where the mangroves used to be the huts teeter on stilts and the filthy Bombay tide washes underneath their floors as they sleep. These are illegal homes, though. Where Sameer and my other students live is a ‘legal’ slum, and one that’s lucky enough to garner a little government attention. The narrow walkways that used to be a sludgy muck have been crudely paved. Electricity is no longer stolen from the nearest office building but is provided by wires strung at eye-level down the walkways. The toilet is no longer the nearest garbage dump or beach- a three-story tiled shithouse has been erected for the thousands of residents here- 1 rupee per shit. The water is privatized- a man comes around noon everyday in a truck, and doles it out from a black plastic well. Women scramble and cuss in jostling queues with all manner of plastic containers- 20 litres is 2 rupees. Most fill 2 large containers- cooking and drinking water for the whole family for the next 24 hours.
It is a mad little world. Privacy is non-existent. Dogs prowl and are known to bite and the air is thick with flies and dust. Women work in the houses, cleaning, cooking, caring. If the mother is away during the day sweeping floors in the nearby high-rises then the eldest daughter takes care of the chores. This is a mindset Dev is working to change. Almost no girls have joined his activity programs- their parents think it’s a waste of time for them. Even school is a waste of time for the girls. Most of the women here can’t read the names and numbers on the buses they take to work- which are written in Hindi. But Dev is patient. He figures if he can prove the worth of his programs with the boys then more girls may be allowed to join.
I just wish I had more time. Dev says any contact these kids can have with an outsider is good- it opens their eyes to learn little by little of the big world outside their tiny cramped one. And hopefully open minds can look beyond the workaday struggle of their parents and see possibilities of college studies and less mind-numbing, low-paying labour jobs. It’s hard to break out. But Sameer has studied to be a chef at a local college- he hopes to find work in one of the bigger hotels.
I don’t get sad when I walk around the slums. I see poverty like I’ve never seen before and people living in ways I didn’t think people could live. I see people surviving and kids being kids, which they’ll do wherever they are. I mostly look around and see so much that needs to be done and wish I had more time here. These people are virtually ignored in the economic boom that is India and they stab themselves in the back with their cultural norms- the illiterate women, the alcoholic and abusive men, the large families and kids becoming their parents. Dev must feel like he’s looking up a
clear-cut mountain on which he needs to replant every sapling; digging in the dirt with his fingernails to plant that very first one. He must be so overwhelmed. But he’s here everyday. Trying to let these kids know that they can pull themselves out of this world. Trying to give them the tools.
I’m just teaching guitar. Hoping the older guys will pass on the knowledge. The seeds of music. Telling the kids about what I do, where I come from. That the world’s actually a pretty big place though it may not seem like it.
22/11 GLYNN IS SIN! Watch the video to find out more…
GLYNN IS SIN! Watch the video to find out more…Know your enemy! The ideals and dangerous music of Adrian Glynn must be stopped! Glynn is a radical, he is anti-everything and must be stopped at all costs. Make Your Voice Heard! Glynn Is Sin!!
22/11 Showcase Night!
It’s 9pm on Friday night. I haven’t been to bed since Wednesday. I’m waiting to play a show at a poetry festival in Victoria with the Fugitives and I’m running on giddy tired adrenaline at this point. Noodle Box for dinner.
There was a mad energy in the room last night. And yeah, there were the talkers in the corners doing their talking, but to be honest, I barely noticed them. What I could see from my perch on that strange stage with its inexplicable barrier were shining faces seated in front, and eager eyes squeezed in and standing behind them, and as soon as I gave them a little something, a little heart to go on, they reflected it back to me a hundred fold. This made the show for me. Singing with their voices back to me on my perch, it made me feel a hundred feet tall. It’s why I do this. Thanks, you that were there.
The rest of the night is a blur- when you’re riding the performance high, I guess time moves a little quicker. Beers help too. I remember hearing the soothing voice of Bodhi Jones over the bathroom speakers while I tried to focus myself in a dirty stall. I remember hearing the sweet melodies of the Left cut through the barroom traffic, and I remember seeing Henry and Joseph from Bend Sinister playing tandem guitar solos from atop the stage barrier, and laser lights and hands in the air. I remember feeling lucky to be a part of this thing. And now this night has come and gone and it’s on to the next thing.
Another show. No sleep.
But it’s what we do.
13/11 New Video
Check out this new video “Help Glynn Win”
Click To Vote Now at PeakPerformanceProject.com
Select “ADRIAN GLYNN” – submit vote at bottom of page!
08/10 Help Glynn Win!!
Greetings, friends of Glynn;
1. In the quest for Peak Performance riches (150Grand!), I require your help. Please PLEASE take 10 seconds and go here: http://www.peakperformanceproject.com/?page_id=1113 . Scroll down to my name and
VOTE FOR ADRIAN GLYNN. Then tell 10 friends. Then feel my love in the air around you.
2. MY BIG SHOWCASE for this competition is Thursday, November 12th at The Cellar. I am on 2nd. I ONLY HAVE 25 TICKETS TO GIVE AWAY, so please email immediately if you would like one of those 25.
3. COME SEE ME PLAY A FEW SONGS THIS SUNDAY, OCT11th AT SECTION 3 IN YALETOWN WITH OTHER “PEAKERS”. ROUND 9 OR SO.
4. FUGITIVES NEWS!
Our brand new EP, “Find Me”, was officially released this week! It’s available for purchase at the 604Records/Universal store here: http://www.604records.com/store/product/the-fugitives-find-me-ep , or you can order it in any fine store.
We hit the road for some Eastern dates next week; check the Myspace for dates and to check out the new tunes! http://www.myspace.com/..canadianfugitives .
With respect and fries,
A. Glynn
p.s.- Vote now! http://www.peakperformanceproject.com/?page_id=1113
01/09 Peak Performance Project Boot Camp Blog 5
Firstly- COME SEE ME PERFORM WITH THE FUGITIVES- SUNDAY SEPT 6TH AT ST. JAMES HALL IN VANCOUVER. Check the Facebook page:
http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=124871891198&ref=mf
It’s the last day. I knew it would feel like this.
When I was a kid, leaving camp felt like a goodbye scene in a movie with swollen music; it would leave a pit in my stomach and a lump in my throat. Emotional withdrawal. This camp will be no different.
Ken Beattie was up here as a faculty member- he was only here four days. But he said that he will never forget this. Tamara from Familia said last night that “there’s something happening here”. This is the truth.
There is great art and great artists hidden amongst us and our popular and capitalist culture has taught us to digest the art coming from the artists with the biggest push, the most glossy, the most accessible.
This is old news though. What matters is that here is a project that truly embraces art first. James Sutton and Tamara Stanners (who brainbore the Peak Performance Project) are visionaries and they are passionate and they will succeed.
People crave originality. They crave passion. They just forget it because Top 40 radio and reality TV numbs their senses. And passion and originality are the final words of the performers at this camp.
We’re in a thunderstorm today, it’s humid as hell. i’m banging this out before my last dinner here, still 4 performers to see tonight. Last night i took some risks onstage and they were well-received. I feel that i connected with people, i could feel it in their hugs afterward. I had to sit downstairs for 5 minutes and breathe after i was done, let myself come down. To perform is to emote at an exacerbated level. But then i was high on the night and jibber-jabbered with people until the moon went in.
I tried to sleep in my bunk-bed but couldn’t, went wandering at three in the morning, down to the lake. i took off my clothes and stood on the dock in the moonlight, hoping nobody was watching. i put my arms up in the sky and thanked somebody or something for everything, then jumped into the black lake. i slept well.
i would like to leave off with a few impressions that bubble to my head of my experiences this week- i’m leaving lots of things and people out (sorry), but this is just a quick sketch:
David pouring his soul of his mouth and into his pick-up on his electric guitar- some moment of bewildering eroticism and perfect passion.
Symphonies of snores married with sweet backporch melodies in the depths of the night.
KG and I peeing side by side under a meringue-moonlight sky, talking of majestic melodies.
Josh McNorton “ice-skating” onstage with a guitar.
Dan Moxon wailing a mournful tune he’d written that day on an out-of-tune piano.
The morning loon on the lake.
Long hugs from musical peers after performing for them.
Quinn’s haikus.
Alexandria Maillot singing sweet while we listened from under the porch, 2.30 am.
Tamara Stanners (who works in RADIO) telling me to never think about the hits, but to always follow my muse.
Andy’s drumsticks.
Late night potato chips with Henry Alcock-White.
Piper.
GUNS DON’T BLAZE IF WE GET OUR WAY- HEY!
31/08 Peak Performance Project Blog 4
i missed yesterday’s blog, my computer’s power cord broke, it’s been inconvenient. I’m writing this before i get ready to perform tonight. i won’t lie, it’s a little terrifying to be scrutinized by judges- makes it hard to feel natural and loose, which is how you want to feel onstage. But it’s just part of being a performer. Especially a solo performer.
Things are very intense- as the week has gone on, the feeling of camaraderie has strengthened, but the sense of competition has heightened somewhat. Everybody is beginning to realize the stakes. And every performan.ce has been no less than stellar. There aren’t any artists that “aren’t a worry” at all. Everyone is a contender. It’s exciting. Exciting to see such creativity and talent in a place as small as BC. AAh! These butterflies in my stomach are rallying, they’re searching for a way out! They’re multiplying! Their ranks grow stronger! I don’t ..know ..how much longer.. I can hold them…
30/08 PEAK PERFORMANCE CAMP BLOG 3
Last night I hung out in a bathroom for an hour with Andy, Kaine (sp?) and David from We Are The City. This sounds questionable. But we were finishing a song together. Strange thing is, I’ve never heard these guys’ music, and they’ve never heard mine. So the song we’ve written doesn’t sound like either of us. But that makes it cooler. It’s called In A Minute (we all had to write a song based on this idea)- we’ll tape it and make it a hit on youtube. Or whatever tube is going now.
My lips are chapped, the air is dry up here. There are a million fun things to do, but I’ve barely done any of them because there’s song to be written, blogs to be done, tweets to be twat. The balancing act between the creative and the business, always. I wish this were the old days where you could have someone take care of all your business, your fans, your bookings, your paperwork, your publicity, and then just spend your time being flowery and satirical, channeling the gods through your guitar pick or your vegetable garden or whatever. But this is the brave new world of music. D.I.Y. Wear 2 hats. We’ve had the bejesus scared out of us up here as regards record labels, that’s for sure. Big labels were already evil marauding king lions who roared and protected their chunks of meat with bared teeth and jungle ferocity. Now, they are injured evil marauding king lions, bleeding out and desperate, devouring what grisly scraps they still sink their teeth into. And so we’re running scared. And now we humble tunesters must learn to fend for ourselves. And learning we are. But it’s overwhelming. Especially when you’re a solo artist. There’s hardly any time for art anymore. There’s only time to learn to be a lion.
(And may I also mention again the impressive talent up here- last night Adaline was dazzling and ethereal, as always. Young Alexandra Maillot impressed everyone with her
confident bubbliness and songwriting courage. Sweetheart rocked socks off. And the Painted Birds were majestic and larger than life. This shit is magical.)
29/08 PEAK PERFORMANCE CAMP BLOG 2
I stayed up till 2.30 drinking “water” with KG from Tea and perceiving the Milky Way with my peripheral vision and bullshitting. Everyone was on a high seeing the first performances. We all just want to get up there, I think. But watching gets us excited. Talented people up here. It’s strange- most of us are probably used to being the artsy one, the guy at the party who’s brooding over a guitar in the corner. But the corners are all full here! Brooding is par for the course. Everybody’s artsy. It’s wonderful.
My brain is full of tacos and industry information and I think I need a nap. And the soundcheck dining hall cavern is getting to me. And I need to write a song called “In A Minute” or Don McLeod will break my knees.
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