Please note: MP3s are only kept online for a short time, and if this entry is from more than a couple of weeks ago, the music probably won't be available to download any more.
It snowed all day, Wednesday; things got buried.
I helped a Hasid in black push a car out of the snow. He was standing next to a telephone pole, bird chest heaving, holding a shovel. An older man was forcing the gas on a white Chevrolet, a car like my grandfather used to have, twisting the tires every which way. It skidded and slipped on the snow. I said, "Can I help push?" The younger looked at me. His eyes flashed from surprise to happiness to eagerness, like film passing in front of a projector. I lowered my hood. I kneeled into the curb. "Go," we said together. He had a yiddish accent; it made him sound German. He sounded so young. I thought: I'm young too. We pushed. It didn't work. The car slipped in the slush. We straightened. We tried again. We straightened. Before we strained a third time, two more people came over. They squinted in the flurries. One was a swaggery guy in a leather jacket, looked Greek or Turkish. He gave orders to the driver. The other was a girl, a young girl, French. She smiled at me like we had both stumbled across something, an amazing icicle maybe, in the woods. "One, two, three," we said together. We pushed. We straightened. "One, two, three," we said. The car moved, it moved and it was away, and the young Hasid said "Thanks; thanks so much," but we were away too, all of us with hoods raised, away from each other, down the white-packed street, bent into the blizzard. None of us said goodbye.
I know I should have said goodbye.
I could rattle off some shit about stepping through mirrors and the steam of a kettle, but all I really want to say is: you wonder if all it takes is choice to make something easier. You decide: ok, and then it is; you shed your skin like you're just taking off a shirt.
Here's a song in shades of hope and loss. The organ and guitars are just struts for the singers to stand on, things to cast shadows upon their faces. They sing different kind of songs. They sing separate and together. But they are not singing for each other. (Unless they choose to be.)
Maybe if you step through the mirror, you can hold your face right up against the steam.
My People Sleeping do not sound anything like Fleetwood Mac, but this is the picture their press release paints, these days: a gang of former lovers, and fireflies flying. I am excited to see what their band is, these days, when they play the CD release for Feye this Friday. It is in Montreal, at Sala Rossa, and they will be accompanied by three great opening acts: Adam & the Amethysts (with new band, new songs), Mountain Man Pat Jordache (Patrick from Sister Suvi), and North, My Love (Katherine Peacock, of Mussaver, Coal Choir, Dorien Hatchet, and formerly My People Sleeping). It costs just $8 ($7 more gets you the album) and if you live here, you should go.
(There's another fine concert on Saturday night, with Jane Vain, Mixylodian and Mountain Man Pat Jordache again. It's at Green Room.)
Do listen to: Gorilla vs Bear's favourite songs of 2009.
(original photo source unknown, thanks sirhc)Posted by Sean at December 10, 2009 12:53 AM
This is great! I am an independent singer songwriter and I learn a lot from reading blogs like this - thanks so much for sharing.Posted by Jade Leonard at December 10, 2009 2:09 AM
killer imagePosted by jonis at December 10, 2009 2:34 PM
holy shit.Posted by j. at December 11, 2009 12:36 AM
The story of the car stuck in the snow made me well up. Thank you Sean.Posted by Cory at December 11, 2009 2:03 PM
Yeah, I'm welling up too. People in Montreal sometimes act so antagonistic towards one another, so it's nice to read a story about people from different communities divided by language coming together to help someone in need. Thank you.Posted by Henry at December 18, 2009 5:32 PM
Yeah, I'm welling up too. People in Montreal sometimes act so antagonistic towards one another, so it's nice to read a story about people from different communities divided by language coming together to help someone in need. Thank you.Posted by Henry at December 18, 2009 5:33 PM
"Rainy" is beautiful, and so is your story.Posted by Adina at December 19, 2009 5:36 PM
This is a daily sampler of really good songs. All tracks are posted out of love. Please go out and buy the records.
To hear a song in your browser, click the and it will begin playing. All songs are also available to download: just right-click the link and choose 'Save as...'
All songs are removed within a few weeks of posting.
Said the Gramophone launched in March 2003, and added songs in November of that year. It was one of the world's first mp3blogs.
If you would like to say hello, find out our mailing addresses or invite us to shows, please get in touch:
Montreal, Canada: Sean
Toronto, Canada: Emma
Montreal, Canada: Jeff
Montreal, Canada: Mitz
Please don't send us emails with tons of huge attachments; if emailing a bunch of mp3s etc, send us a link to download them. We are not interested in streaming widgets like soundcloud: Said the Gramophone posts are always accompanied by MP3s.
If you are the copyright holder of any song posted here, please contact us if you would like the song taken down early. Please do not direct link to any of these tracks. Please love and wonder.
"And I shall watch the ferry-boats / and they'll get high on a bluer ocean / against tomorrow's sky / and I will never grow so old again."
about the authors
Sean Michaels is the founder of Said the Gramophone. He is a writer, critic and author of the theremin novel Us Conductors. Follow him on Twitter or reach him by email here. Click here to browse his posts.
Emma Healey writes poems and essays in Toronto. She joined Said the Gramophone in 2015. This is her website and email her here.
Jeff Miller is a Montreal-based writer and zinemaker. He is the author of Ghost Pine: All Stories True and a bunch of other stories. He joined Said the Gramophone in 2015. Say hello on Twitter or email.
Mitz Takahashi is originally from Osaka, Japan who now lives and works as a furniture designer/maker in Montreal. English is not his first language so please forgive his glamour grammar mistakes. He is trying. He joined Said the Gramophone in 2015. Reach him by email here.
Site design and header typography by Neale McDavitt-Van Fleet. The header graphic is randomized: this one is by .
Dan Beirne wrote regularly for Said the Gramophone from August 2004 to December 2014. He is an actor and writer living in Toronto. Any claim he makes about his life on here is probably untrue. Click here to browse his posts. Email him here.
Jordan Himelfarb wrote for Said the Gramophone from November 2004 to March 2012. He lives in Toronto. He is an opinion editor at the Toronto Star. Click here to browse his posts. Email him here.
Said the Gramophone does not take advertising. We are supported by the incredible generosity of our readers. These were our donors in 2013.
our favourite blogs
(◊ means they write about music)
Back to the World
La Blogothèque ◊
Weird Canada ◊
Destination: Out ◊
A Grammar (Nitsuh Abebe) ◊
Ill Doctrine ◊
A London Salmagundi
Words and Music ◊
Petites planétes ◊
Gorilla vs Bear ◊
Silent Shout ◊
Clouds of Evil ◊
The Dolby Apposition ◊
Awesome Tapes from Africa ◊
Matana Roberts ◊
Pitchfork Reviews Reviews ◊
i like you [podcast]
Nicola Meighan ◊
CKUT Music ◊
Wattled Smoky Honeyeater ◊
The Clear-Minded Creative
Torture Garden ◊
Passion of the Weiss ◊
Juan and Only ◊
Then Play Long (Marcello Carlin) ◊
Coming Up For Air (Matt Forsythe)
my love for you is a stampede of horses
It's Nice That
Song, by Toad ◊
The Rest is Noise (Alex Ross) ◊
My Daguerreotype Boyfriend
The Hood Internet ◊
things we like in Montreal
le pick up
au pied de cochon
vices & versa
+ paltoquet, cocoa locale, idée fixe, patati patata, the sparrow, pho tay ho, qin hua dumplings, caffé italia, hung phat banh mi, caffé san simeon, meu-meu, pho lien, romodos, patisserie guillaume, patisserie rhubarbe, kazu, lallouz, maison du nord, cuisine szechuan &c
drawn + quarterly
+ bottines &c
casa + sala + the hotel
blue skies turn black
montreal improv theatre
cinema du parc
yoga teacher Thea Metcalfe
The Morning News