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Burnaby-born Matthew Good – a fixture on the Canadian music scene for nearly two decades – is nothing if not prolific. Since 1993, the (reluctant) Juno winner has penned four LPs and three EPs with The Matthew Good Band (including 1999’s double-platinum Beautiful Midnight), and four solo LPs (including 2003’s Avalanche and 2007’s Hospital Music). Good has also made forays into painting, design, blogging, poetry, fiction, and even monthly manifestos. In his forthright fashion, Good decodes the many projects he’s taken on over the years, acknowledging the good, the bad – and in the case of the notorious T-shirts he designed – the sarcastic.

Why this tempestuous relationship with the press?

I guess it kind of happened back in the Nineties, in what I would call the greatest era of Canadian music. There were so many bands doing very well here in the country, but a lot of them didn’t speak their minds and I did. It was kind of a bizarre juxtaposition and a lot of people in the press decided to play on that.

You’re on virtually every social network – why?

It’s promotion really and obviously, they’ve become extremely important. I repeatedly get asked the same questions on my Facebook Fan Page that you could easily get the answer to if you just went to the website (laughs).

I was surprised to see personal photos on your Flickr profile.

Well (laughs), not a lot of people go to that page – I get maybe one comment and it’s from someone I know – and I could probably make it private but it’s just me being lazy. Flickr has primarily become a place to save images and have them in one spot instead of on different laptops and things. You’re probably right, though; I should probably put a filter on that.

I’m not necessarily advising it – I just know you value transparency and wondered if the photos were a part of that.

Well, yeah. I’ve no problem with having it all out there but the safety of my kids is also important. As a father, I obviously love my kids and post pictures of them, but given what I do for a living, privacy has to be taken into consideration.

It’s commendable to be so open online.

Well, back in ’96 or ’97, my manager at the time said the Internet was a good way to put myself out there and ‘why didn’t I put some of that great nonsense that I write there?’ So I started to do that, and people seemed to like it. Back then, the number of unique hits you’d get was immense and 40 or 50,000 people would show up on the first of the month to read it because I was just posting once a month. Actually, there was even a period where I didn’t even have the Internet myself; I’d give the Webmaster of the site a floppy disc (laughs). I kind of did it half-assed. Over the years I’ve had site content come and go. It gets taken down when I get threats because it’s really not worth it, but then I’ll wait for an appropriate amount of time and something else will come up and I’ll start it up again. It lasts for as long as it lasts.

And your book?

When I was approached to do [At Last There Is Nothing Left To Say], I was like, ‘Yeah…I guess.’ In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have done it because it’s not very good at all. After September 11 occurred – and in the wake of the mass hysteria and immense amount of propaganda – I started writing about current events.

What happened to Dear San Diego?

I still have all of them somewhere. I began writing that after I got divorced. It was an exercise to push things out and I wrote about myself in a lot of ways. But I got remarried, I had kids and…you know…it was no longer relatable to my life…

Is there a distinction between Matt Good the musician and Matt Good the writer?

I don’t know. When it comes to art, I’ve done pretty much everything. I was a painter and I wrote before I even picked up the guitar. I spend my time with all kinds of creative things…I even do some design.

Like T-shirts that say, ‘I hear Matt Good is a real a______’?

(laughs) Exactly.

Nik Kozub, Jason Troock, Lyle Bell, Will Zimmerman, Clint Frazier and Gravy are Shout Out Out Out - six rock-and-rollers turned DJs, turned Juno-nominated dance-punk hit-makers. Although they started the band as an excuse to toy with synths and sequencers, their earliest releases – Nobody Calls Me Unless They Want Something (2005) and Dude You Feel Electrical (2006) – garnered immediate, faithful airplay on national college radio and CBC Radio 3. During a break from recording new material, Kozub talked about the band’s unique line-up and how their infatuation with all things electronic in the studio makes for a heavy load on the road.

When – and why – did you start the band?

We started seven years ago now. We’d all been playing in rock and punk bands but had gotten pretty heavily into synths and this project would allow us to play with those toys. People seemed to like it, so we kept at it.

Your music is described as a ‘damn good time’ but it has a darker edge…

Yeah, I’m not comfortable writing about getting sexy on the dance floor, you know? I’m more interested in writing songs that mean something to me. But it’s not like I’m talking about things that are exclusive to me. I talk about being in debt and getting lonely and having friends moving away; things that can happen to anybody.

Why two drummers, four bass players and five synths?

The number of synths has actually grown (laughs). We started with one drummer and then our other drummer caught wind of what we were doing and really wanted to be a part of it. We told him we had a drummer but he was persistent (laughs). The four bass player thing was an accident, too. They’d all been in bands that had come through my recording studio – because my day job is producing and recording music – and it just turned out that the guys that I got along with the best were all bass players (laughs).

Does this unusual set-up give your sound an edge?

I think it does. We play dance music and the rhythm section is really important in dance music. We’re not the only band that has two drummers but we do have a distinct sound that comes from writing songs around the bass line and the rhythm.

How do you haul all that gear around?

It’s the worst part of the job (laughs). It’s almost impossible for us to fly anywhere because the freight charges are just too cost prohibitive. But we started the band so we could play those instruments – and they’re all oddball and rare – so they’re coming with us.

What’s your live show like?

It’s really fun music to play so we have a great time. The crowd shows up expecting to dance and sing along and chant, so we have a lot of crowd involvement. When you have six guys on stage and two drum sets and everybody’s jumping up and down, it’s pretty energetic.

How does the live experience differ from your recordings?

Our studio process is probably quite different from a lot of bands. Our writing process is often part of the recording process and our live shows are just us trying to recreate what we’ve done in the studio. Ideally, I like the live songs to sound exactly like they sound on the record…just louder.

So do you prefer the studio to playing live?

Playing live is such a huge release and such a fun part of the job but – maybe it’s because I am a studio guy by day – being in the studio is just as gratifying if not more so. I love taking the time to get the sounds just right.

With the glut of new bands found online, how do you get noticed?

It’s hard to say…it’s almost arbitrary. There’s no guarantee because there’s so much out there and so much of it is good. We’re completely blown away to get the response we get. We’ve played in bands before and this is the first time anyone noticed or cared, so it’s a huge, wonderful surprise.

And you’re working on new material?

Yeah, we’re actually in the studio right this second. We’re hoping to release two long EPs... one in the late fall and another in the spring. We get deeper into the synths and there are a lot of ambient, space-y sounds, with slow, natural builds. But it’s still very dance-y.

Is this you evolving?

Sure (laughs). It’s different from what we’ve done in the past – and it’s hard for me to put my finger on exactly how – but I do know it’s better (laughs).

Kyle Profeta (drums), Andrew Neufeld (vocals), Jeremy Hiebert (guitar), Matt Keil (bass) and Casey Hjelmberg (guitar) are Comeback Kid, a hard-hitting five-piece band from Winnipeg, Manitoba. Initially started as a side project in 2000, the band immediately caught on in the hardcore punk community and has since released five albums (including 2010’s Symptoms + Cures) and played more than 30 countries worldwide. During a pit stop from yet another tour, Hiebert talks about the hard work and mind-blowing results that come from spending over a decade making music.

What’s the story behind your name?

Scott was flipping through the paper and found this story about Mario Lemieux – who’d retired from the NHL because of a back injury – and how he was feeling good enough to come out of retirement and start playing again. I can’t remember the exact headline but it was something like, ‘Mario Lemieux is the comeback kid.’ Scott thought it captured where we were coming from as a band – you know, not letting things keep you down and always keeping hope. It was the kind of name we were looking for.

Are there more obstacles that threaten to ‘keep you down’ being a hardcore band rather than a straight-ahead rock or pop act?

Sure, but we love the music we play. There are people who chase the dream for a buck and allow their music to be watered down or create something that they really don’t even like. That doesn’t come off as honest even though it might sell. We’re not part of the mainstream but there’s a lot of passion for the genre of music that we play, and a real sense of community.

Do you often have to explain or defend your music?

Yeah, I think we do… but we know what we’re getting into. If you want to create something that’s controversial to the mainstream you have to be prepared. It comes with the territory when you’re looking to be honest about subjects that maybe aren’t so popular.

Music can be a tough career.

It’s definitely tough. We love what we’re doing but that doesn’t mean that every day is a breeze. There are hard days, and huge disagreements when it comes to getting money to record, and all kinds of headaches that come with it. From the outside, it probably seems like its all fun and silly shenanigans, but there’s a real-life side to it, too. It can wear you down. That’s why you have bands that don’t last very long because they have no idea how to deal with it. It takes a certain breed of people to be able to do this for so long.

You’ve shared stages with Foo Fighters, Incubus, System of a Down – do you use that as an opportunity to watch and learn?

Totally. That’s the beauty of playing these large festivals. We watch these bands from the side of the stage and they’re playing on a level we’ll probably never be on (laughs) and it’s cool. But festivals aren’t where we are every day, though; we’re more of a club show band, playing in small environments with 400 people crammed in there.

You’ve played together for over a decade now. What have you learned about yourselves as a band?

We had an interesting thing happen on our last European tour where our drummer wasn’t able to do it. It was the first time ever that Comeback Kid had to play without him. We realized just how much we gel with each other. That’s not to say that the guy filling in wasn’t good because he was… but we learned that we feed off each other and rely on little things from one another that we don’t even realize. It’s a pretty cool thing.

Are audiences different around the world?

Places that get bands a lot – North America, Europe, Australia – are pretty similar, but when you go to places that don’t get a lot of shows – South America, Southeast Asia – there’s this excitement that’s totally different from we experience here at home. Kids in Toronto, Montreal, New York or whatever have at least two shows to pick from a night, so it’s different playing in front of kids who want music badly…it’s actually mind-blowing.

Mind-blowing how?

I mean, we’re just these weird dudes that got together in a basement to make music. To go thousands of miles from home and have kids scream every one of your words to the songs…it’s overwhelming. We’re very fortunate to be able to have that experience with them.

Comprised of David Brown (vocals), Christian Bergeron (guitar), Nicolas Denis (synth), Philippe Lachance (synth), Francis Fugere (drums) and Julien Martre (bass/vocals), Quebec-based band The New Cities has just released their sophomore LP, Kill the Lights. Following up their 2009 debut Lost in City Lights, the band’s latest effort has passed through many hands on its way to completion, including production gurus The Matrix (Avril Lavigne, Korn, Christina Aguilera) and mixers Dave ‘Rave’ Ogilvie (Skinny Puppy, Marilyn Manson) and Joe Zook (Katy Perry, Weezer). From the offices at Sony, Julien Martre talks about becoming part of a bigger team and the careful creation of their latest offering.

Why choose music as your career?

For me, it’s always been a no-brainer because I’ve been obsessed with music from like, the age of twelve... Jimi Hendrix, Nirvana… I bugged my parents for an electric guitar and since then, you could say it was written.

Another artist told me that it’s easy to picture the sound you want, but to physically conjure it up can sometimes be a challenge – would you agree?

We know we want the electro-side to be predominant in what we do, so when we write a song, we imagine the keyboards and how they’ll sound. But big picture? We want it to be a surprise. I like to start from scratch with an acoustic guitar, a vague idea, and then go from there.

You’re from Quebec, but it was in Toronto where you got your start?

The Canadian music business is pretty much centered in Toronto so it made sense for us to go there. It all started with Greg Nori, who’s the singer for Treble Charger and he’s produced and managed Sum 41. He thought that for us to go to the next level we had to spend some time writing and then book shows in Toronto. Those shows are what got us attention from Sony.

What’s the learning curve going from unsigned to signed?

We’ve always been pretty DIY-oriented and pretty prolific, and we’re involved in every aspect of the process. A major label like Sony has really good tools to market and promote music, and just gets us one step further along to where we want to go.

So you’ve become part of a larger team?

Exactly. We’re aware that we have to work with other people to get our product out there and Sony’s doing a really good job in the end.

What kind of input does a major label have on your sound?

I mean, Sony was signing us and we felt very lucky but we weren’t going to make any compromises and they were fine with that. I think for the label, it’s a good idea to give the artists the liberty to do what they want. They’ve got people involved in the artwork and some other stuff, but again, it’s more of a team effort and we’re like… the inspirational source.

Tell me about the making Kill the Lights.

We wrote songs for a period of about three or four months. We stuck ourselves in a small room with no windows in our rehearsal space and started from scratch. We reached out to a bunch of producers in L.A. and set up 15 or 20 sessions to go and perfect the songs. We started with about 30 songs and chose 12 for the record.

And at some point, you made it back to Canada?

For the post work, we did the first half of it in L.A. and then went to Montreal – well a town in the woods about an hour and a half from Montreal – and we added guitars and bass and vocals there. We sent everything to Dave Ogilvie in Vancouver and he did the mixing and added some electro sounds and made everything sound really good.

Tell me what it’s like for a French-speaking band to expand outside of Quebec.

The political reality of Quebec makes it a little harder for someone who’s born a Francophone to feel like they can make it outside of the province. It feels like an obstacle to overcome the language barrier and you’re kind of raised with that on your mind. For me, I just tried not to see it as an obstacle and just always believed I could make it.

What do you hope Kill the Lights will accomplish?

I hope we’ll have the opportunity to play for people in and outside of Canada. We’ve been to the U.S. and we’ve been to the U.K. twice already. The reaction’s seems to be really good. We just basically want to get back out there and keep promoting our stuff. In a perfect world, we’d get to do a world tour.

Alongside multi-instrumentalist bandmates Dave King, Matthew Hensley, Nathen Maxwell, Bridget Regan, Robert Schmidt and George Schwindt, guitarist Dennis Casey of Los Angeles-based Celtic-punk group, Flogging Molly, is appreciative of many things... a 15-year career making music with his second family; their topical, fifth studio album Speed of Darkness; and for that fateful gig in Las Vegas that led to meeting frontman of The Clash and personal hero, Joe Strummer.

Another musician told me that when listening to his band’s old albums, he could hear exactly what was going on with them at the time, sort of like an aural journal – could you do the same?

Wow, that is such a great question… and I’d say, yes. I could do that. This new record sounds nothing like our old records because you change. People don’t want you to, but you can’t make the same record after 15 years because you’re not the same person. I go back and listen and feel all those memories, and I know how I felt when we were making it. I don’t know if it’s 20/20, but it’s a real sense of who we were. It’s really personal.

Tell me about politics in Flogging Molly’s music.

Dave said it great once - ‘We don’t have all the answers but we’re not going to stop shouting about all the problems.’ We’re not going to run for office, but we do have strong personal beliefs. When you’re in the position of being a songwriter, you have to write about what’s going on around you… especially when you can inspire your audience to look at things in a way they never have.

Your album Within a Mile of Home is dedicated to Joe Strummer and Johnny Cash – why?

We listened to a lot of their music on the tour bus at that time and we were inspired by the music they made. It was our way of tipping our hat to them as songwriters.

And because like you, they made their political beliefs known?

Johnny Cash saw a lot in his life and wrote about himself in an unpretentious way. As a listener you really got what he was saying; that’s the sign of a truly great songwriter. And we did a show with Joe Strummer, actually. It was a couple months before he died and we got to meet him. He was such a hero of ours and he was so down-to-earth and the friendliest, most humble person you could meet.

Was that what you expected?

Well, you have personal fears when you meet one of your heroes, you know? But when he started talking, all that went away. We were playing in Vegas at Mandalay Bay and [Joe] didn’t have his badge to get to his VIP area. He was like, ‘I don’t care; I’ll just sit down here and talk to everybody.’ People kept coming up to him and he didn’t mind at all. I felt like, ‘Jesus Christ, it’s Joe Strummer sitting right here in front of me,’ but he was a cool, everyday kind of dude.

Do you recognize that your fans might feel that way meeting you?

Yeah, I do. Coming from a simple, working-class background, I’ve never lost my sense of gratitude for what I do. I love meeting fans of the band to this day. They can get nervous and it’s charming in a way, but… it’s just me (laughs).

Dave King said that Speed of Darkness ‘became the album we had to write.’ What did he mean?

Dave and Bridget bought a house in Detroit just before the U.S. economy started collapsing, so when it came time to write, this was the environment he was in. He went back home to Ireland at one point to write some more and the economy started to go south there, too. It was like a tidal wave… and swept the album in a different direction.

What’s the tone in the studio when your subject matter is so intense?

The recording process is hard to explain because every song is different, but to me [the album] sounds relevant, not dark. It’s not somber. Irish people – and I’m stereotyping here – have a way of crying into their beer; but after war and hundreds of years of hardships, they’ve developed this sense of humor about it. They’re not like, ‘The world’s going to hell in a hand basket and we’re all f----d.’ They’re like, ‘We’re still here and we have hope,’ and I think the record is sort of like that, too. I’m proud of it because it speaks about what was happening at the moment. That feels like a great accomplishment.

Never dreaming their unexpected mix of Celtic-punk would forge a 15-year career of amped-up, politically-charged jigs, seven-member Los Angeles group, Flogging Molly has cultivated a fervently loyal fan base. Their DIY work ethic and emphatic, folk-infused protest songs have earned them number one chart positions, gold and platinum album sales, and an LP (2008’s Float) deemed to be "one of the most important CDs of the year, if not the decade," by Alternative Press. Having recently released their fifth studio album Speed of Darkness, guitarist Dennis Casey explains how he and multi-instrumentalist members Dave King, Matthew Hensley, Nathen Maxwell, Bridget Regan, Robert Schmidt and George Schwindt are in it for the long haul, driven only by the foot-stompin,’ hootin’-and-hollerin’ love of music.

Where’d the inspiration come from to marry Celtic music with punk?

The band is Dave’s vision. Being from Dublin, he tells of going to the pubs with people who didn’t have much money; entertaining themselves by picking up instruments and having a few pints, jumping up and down and stomping their feet. He wanted to write from his experience and say something, so why not look to his heritage? He happened to like punk rock too. I think it really works.

There’s an inherent punk ethos to folk music that make the two fit pretty seamlessly.

Folk music is music for common people. It makes you jump up and down and hoot and holler. When you speed it up a hundred times and put some drums and a bass and a guitar behind it, it magnifies everything.

Did you ever imagine you’d be at it for so long?

(Laughs) No. I never, ever thought we’d be right where we are now, doing what we’re doing. I believed in it with all my heart, but I’d never had any success as a musician before joining this band and didn’t have notions of how it might go. I just wanted to quit my job and make music.

Are there challenges to not fitting neatly into the rock or pop genres?

We’ve always struggled. We started out in L.A. where there’s a lot of music industry people and they had no clue what to do with a band like ours – but then there’d be 200 people there just going absolutely f------ bonkers even though they didn’t get it. We’re a working class band and we’ll always be that.

Many bands say, ‘We’d be nothing without our fans.’ Is that true for you?

We have fans that I wouldn’t trade for the world. I respect and appreciate them, and we’ve grown together. Whether or not we’re on the radio, we’ve had years of going back to small towns and meeting people and playing for them and doing whatever we have to do. We’re not a pretty band put on covers of magazines and on MTV… but we don’t have to be.

Because a great live show is what keeps a band like yours going.

Exactly. You hit it on the head. After seeing us play, people become fans; I hear it so many times. The live show has always been ‘it’ for us, and with where the music industry is headed, a great live show is everything and there’s nothing that can replace it.

Some acts exist because they’re pretty and fit neatly into radio slots - but don’t do well in a live setting.

I agree. I’m generalizing of course, but there are so many pretty-looking bands that are young and attractive and have a silly little song that sticks in your head – and that’ll always be in vogue – but they’ve never had to work at it; they’ve never been on the road or paid their dues and you can see that.

Describe the dynamics of a seven-piece band.

On a technical level, less is more with seven people. There’s so many sounds coming at you that the less you play, the better, and keeping it simple allows the music to become festive… and really powerful. On a personal level, they’re my second family and the music keeps us together. None of us are childhood friends, or from the same city, and we’re not even the same age. I always say that if the seven of us were put in a room before being in this band, none of us would’ve talked to one another. But we’ve created a bond over the 15 years we’ve played together and we’re proud of that. It’s no easy feat to keep an original line-up for that long.

Upcoming North American dates mark band's first live performance on U.S. soil since 2006.

Guns N 'Roses may well be considered an American rock and roll institution, but their recently-announced concert dates mark their first North American concerts in more than five years.

According to Rolling Stone, the legendary rock band – fronted by the infamous Axl Rose – are finally piecing together a tour with confirmed dates announced for Orlando (October 28), Miami (October 29) and Kansas City (November 12). Insiders speculate that other dates should be confirmed soon.

The group's new lineup has toured extensively overseas in recent years, though they haven't performed together live since their show in Dubai last December.

Comprising Axl Rose (vocals), Izzy Stradlin (guitar), Slash (guitar), Duff McKagan (bass) and Steven Adler (drums), Guns N’ Roses formed in Los Angeles, California in 1985. The rockers rose to fame in 1987 with their major label debut, Appetite for Destruction, which went on to become the highest selling debut U.S. album of all time, selling over 28 million copies worldwide.

Chris Martin confirms duet with 23-year-old star on Mylo Xyloto.

As U.K. rockers Coldplay ready to launch fifth LP Mylo Xyloto October 24, frontman Chris Martin has confirmed that Rihanna performs a duet on the new release, reports The Sun.

Despite Coldplay's global success including numerous awards and millions of albums sold, Martin admitted  it was no easy feat to ask Rihanna to lend her vocals to the track, Princess of China.

"It took a while to pluck up the courage to ask her,” he admitted. “We did a show in Las Vegas and I met her and said, 'Do you think there's any chance?' I was very Hugh Grant-like and spluttering about it.”

"She has such an amazing voice and it's so different to mine,” he continued. “When the vocal happened I thought ‘Wow, you sound different' but I think that's also because she was singing a different song to what we are used to hearing from her..."

With inspired vocals and dramatic guitar atop a distinctive rhythmic foundation, David Quon (vocals, guitar), Derek VanHeule (bass,vocals) and Nathan Warkentin (drums/vocals) are We Barbarians – a three-piece indie rock band that evokes a wholehearted, earnest sound with subtle undercurrents of an ’80s-era U2. Searching for new inspiration, the trio bid farewell to their lifelong home of California to take on the hustle and bustle of New York City. Their brand new EP, Headspace, is their most cohesive release to date, and according to Quon, a reflection of the band’s current state of mind.

Why migrate from Long Beach to Brooklyn?

We’d been in Southern California all of our lives. There’s a vibe there of chilling out and just letting things happen, so we wanted to put ourselves in an environment where we’d be forced to work really hard. New York kicks you in the a-- and it’s good to have that refreshed inspiration. We’ve been tying loose ends on the EP we just put out, and doing demos, and writing a lot. We’re getting our juices flowing.

Tell me about your new EP, Headspace.

We recorded it with Dan Gallucci. He plays in Modest Mouse and does some producing for them and it was cool to bring him in and have him help us solidify our songs. Our LP (2009’s There’s This There’s That) was something we did when we were still trying to find our sound and get our s--- together, but with these songs, we really feel like they’re an indication of what we want to be doing.

So it took time to find your sound?

Yeah. I think it takes awhile to come together, establish roles in the band, get into a groove and feel confident with what you’re doing. With our latest stuff, there’s a real genuine quality that we tapped into. When you first form, you have this idea of what you’ll sound like, but to actually be able to sit down and tangibly create it is harder than you think. With [Headspace], we’ve got a lot closer.

What is it about you three together that works?

I met Nate at 17 and Derek a year after that. We became friends before we started playing together and we’ve really run the gauntlet together as far as touring, getting signed to a major label and all the s--- that can go with that. We’re like brothers and I think that’s a rare thing. We sift through our s--- and we’re honest and vulnerable with one another and that makes being in the band so rewarding and easy. I think you can see that when we’re on stage. It adds to what we do.

You’re compared to early U2 – how do you feel about that?

I mean, when you’re at the airport with your guitar, someone is bound to ask what you do and what you sound like. A prideful part of you wants to say that you don’t sound like anyone else and that you’ve created something new, but we’re where we are because of bands that have come before us. Even a somewhat tainted band like U2 have a huge influence on what we do so we take it as a compliment. If you listen to songs on Boy or War, they create an atmosphere and depth that you get lost in – and that’s what we strive to do with our music.

Give me the description you give at the airport.

(Laughs) At the heart of it all, we’re a rock band… an atmospheric rock band. Then people ask, ‘Well, who do you sound like?’ and I think it’s easiest to reference bands like U2, The Clash, Joy Division…anything in the vein of post-punk rock. That’s not to say we sound exactly like them but they influence how we do things. But I think there has to be more to a band than just their music, though. Great bands are about art or politics... there’s substance.

And how do you convey substance?

Nate and I studied art and graphic design so we’re very interested in creating an aesthetic that communicates our sound. Bands like Joy Division or New Order really created a distinct perception with their artwork and that’s something that’s very important to us too and we all collaborate on our artwork. As far as politics, we’re more straightforward on Headspace than we’ve been in the past. Even our name itself is sort of a social commentary. In the most civilized areas of the worlds and at the root of everything, we are all barbaric.

As heavy on talent as he is on tattoos, Dallas Green is the (very recent) ex-singer/guitarist for now defunct hardcore band Alexisonfire and the mastermind behind the softer, strikingly simplistic City and Colour. Just hours before the break-up of Alexisonfire was announced, the Juno award-winning St. Catharine’s native discusses how lucky he feels to have experienced both projects, the unlikely material that may necessitate yet another, and how his greatest song and best live show are still ahead of him.

Did you have a ‘career goal’ when you first started out?

My main goal was always just to be able to play and that was it. If I could somehow figure out how to write the songs then play them for people, then that was the dream come true. And that’s how I’ve always been...I set small, obtainable goals. I’ve never wanted to be a world-dominating pop star and I’ve never wanted fame; I just want to write a good song and then write a better song than that one. If I can do that then I hope that everything else will just fall into place.

City and Colour and Alexisonfire are miles apart – what do they each afford you artistically?

I just like music and I like a lot of different styles. I think it’s confusing for a lot of people and unexpected. To come from a hardcore band and then to move into an acoustic project, it’s like people were upset with me, saying, ‘You’re already in one band, how can you possibly put out another record that’s unlike the other one?’ To that I say, ‘I like music and I listen to lots of different things.’ As a songwriter I have a lot of musical ideas rolling around in my head. Anyone who’s played an electric guitar really loud knows that it’s really fun to do and to anyone who’s sang quietly while strumming an acoustic guitar knows that it can be very calming and beautiful. I just happen to have been able to do both of those things for a while.

Might those musical ideas rolling around necessitate yet another project?

Probably. I’ve got a bunch of these weird electro songs I’ve been writing on my laptop for like, 10 years. I do it late at night for fun when I can’t sleep. I make beats, slowly piece them together, then every once in a while go back and play with them a little more. Who knows if it will ever see the light of day? Maybe it will.

You once said, ‘going outside in the sunshine is nice, but it’s all about going through the s--- that makes you who you are.’

Well, people always ask why I write songs that deal with such serious topics and it’s because I don’t really feel like writing songs when I’m happy, you know? I don’t want to write a song about the sunshine. Maybe one day I will, but when I’m thinking about something that bothers me then that’s when I want to be writing.

What’s a pivotal ‘s---’ moment to have shaped you?

Musically, touring with Alexisonfire for the first couple of years; playing to no one; sleeping on floors or in the van or cramming 10 guys into one hotel room because we didn’t have enough money was all pretty s----y… But it shaped who I was as a musician and shaped my career path. It allowed me to appreciate working for something rather than just signing a major label deal and getting on a tour bus and playing in front of thousands of people right away. I appreciate everything that I’ve earned and everything that comes to me in my career.

And is there a pivotal ‘sunshiny’ moment that stands out?

I don’t know…I’d like to think that it hasn’t happened yet. There’ve been a lot of great moments in my life but I don’t know that I could pinpoint one perfect one, you know?

There’s something nice in thinking that it’s yet to come.

Yeah, I think so. I’d like to think that I’ll never write my greatest song and that I’ll always be striving to do so. I’d like to think that my best show is still ahead of me too.

It’s easy to perceive Dallas Green as a natural-born songwriter - he began working at it when he was a teenager in high school, has gone on to produce acclaimed music for two concurrent, polar projects and even took home a Juno in 2009 for Songwriter of the Year. First known as the singer/guitarist for hardcore band Alexisonfire, the St. Catharine’s native shook up expectations in 2005 by releasing acoustic material under alias City and Colour that was perceptibly softer and more vulnerable than anyone could have anticipated. Just hours before the break up of Alexisonfire is announced, Dallas explains how taking the hard road to Little Hell has made him so proud and why – even after achieving a number one debut – he’s still struggling to write his best song yet.

How did Osheaga go?

It was good. We had a shorter set than usual because of bands going on late and staying on late. Someone had to take one for the team and we were that band. That always happens at festivals.

A review of your set by the Montreal Gazette said that it ‘looks (and sounds) like a young Dallas might have had those Hip records within reach as a kid…’

Well, yeah…Gord Downie came out and sang with us…but I mean, as a Canadian music fan, how can you not have The Tragically Hip records in your collection, you know? I was born in 1980, so it’s like it’s in my DNA. As a kid at that time it’s just what you did - you listened to The Tragically Hip.

What about your current record Little Hell makes you the most proud?

The whole thing. I’m proud it was recorded on tape; I’m proud that it’s just me and a couple other people singing, and that there are no computers or Auto-Tune. It’s just songs that I wrote myself and played, and that makes me proud. I’m happy about how the songs came out.

Will you find it anticlimactic to go back to digital now that you’ve done it the hard way?

It’s funny that you refer to it as the hard way because that’s the way everyone did it for so long. It should be referred to as the normal way, and using computers as the easy way. It was frustrating at times…you want to move along as fast as you can because time is money as they say, but if you’re in it for the right reasons then tape is the way to go. The sound benefits from the warmth – at least the songs I’m writing anyway.

Has songwriting always come naturally to you?

It’s something that has always come to me, but not naturally. I constantly work on it and I will always work on it. I struggle with it… but the way to get better at it is to always be struggling with it, to always question it and to always try to be better at it.

Do you ever second-guess your work?

Every day (laughs). Every time a record comes out I wonder if it’s good enough.

A record is like a tattoo, isn’t it? It’s a huge commitment because once its there, its there.

Well, I’ve got a lot of tattoos (laughs) so I know what you mean. I’m just that way. I don’t have the utmost faith in myself, so there’s always that ‘what if?’ But you can’t analyze everything forever. I just try to get to the point where I can release it and be happy to get it out of my hands, and hope that people understand what I’m going for.

And if they don’t?

If they don’t then they don’t and that’s music. It’s personal.

But Little Hell was very well received; it debuted at number one on the Canadian chart.

Yeah, it was great but I try not to focus on things like that too much. If you start getting your hopes up, then that’s what you’re always depending on. Next time, if it doesn’t debut at number one, does that mean I didn’t do as well? I take it with a grain of salt. I appreciate the reception and appreciate that people are interested but I also realize that there will come a day when people aren’t as interested as they are now. I think I just try to focus on writing the best songs that I can possibly write and hope for the best. That’s it.

Forthcoming reworking of Lulu “will be revolutionary” according to Reed. American rock musician Lou Reed has confirmed that he will re-work material he contributed to the operatic score of German playwright Frank Wedekind's Lulu with heavy band Metallica.

The iconic musician told New York Magazine that his version of the opera’s score is nothing less than “awe-inspiring.” Reed revealed, "it’s maybe the best thing done by anyone, ever. It could create another planetary system. I’m not joking, and I’m not being egotistical."

Three tracks already named from the ten-track LP are Pumping Blood, Mistress Dread and Junior Dad. A website has also been launched in advance of the currently unnamed collaboration – which tells a story of an abused young dancer's life and relationships – though, other than its November 1 release date (October 31 in the U.K.), few concrete details have been provided.

Five years and three LPs into their career, Saskatchewan’s The Sheepdogs have been chosen from 15 competitors as winners of Rolling Stone’s ‘Do You Wanna Be a Rock & Roll Star?’ contest, becoming the first unsigned act to grace the cover of the iconic magazine. At the same time, the flawlessly authentic, feel-good Southern rock foursome – comprising Ewan Currie (vocals, guitar), Leot Hanson (guitar), Ryan Gullen (bass) and Sam Corbett (drums) – have been handed a coveted recording contract with Atlantic Records. Even amidst this sudden fuss and excitement, a strikingly sensible Currie conveys an air of calm and preparedness; seemingly already beyond his rock star status despite only just having been named one.

How did The Sheepdogs establish their boogie rock sound?

We all felt really strongly about rock and roll music – a lot of it being older – and loved elements like harmony and guitars solos. We borrowed from all the bands we admired then combined those elements… hopefully with the result of our own Sheepdogs sound.

Do your prairie roots have an influence?

Saskatoon is an isolated city and there’s no real scene or pressure to be part of any particular kind of movement; it leaves us free to explore our musical whims and try to create music in the way we want it to sound.

What’s your focus when songwriting?

We’re about variation. When you’ve got three guys singing together and there’s a three-part harmony, it creates something special and locks into… almost a biological thing. And it’s rock and roll, so there should be a groove to it. I guess we try to keep things in our music that maybe aren’t as prevalent in modern rock.

How were you entered into the Rolling Stone cover contest?

Our album was sent to Atlantic Records because they were putting together all these unsigned bands for the competition. We were kind of confused as to what it all was about; we knew that Rolling Stone and Atlantic were involved – and they’re definitely heavyweights in the history of rock and roll – but it was a competition with a lot of levels so we weren’t sure what to expect.

What emotions did you experience as you progressed?

I think we handled it pretty well. We’ve been around for a while, so we felt confident – we knew our roles within the group and felt pretty secure – and we continued to gain more confidence as we went along.

What were your days like before the contest?

It was driving in the van for eight hours to get to a gig, then loading in and playing to hopefully a good crowd – but maybe not – then going to bed for five hours to get up early and drive to the next place.

And now?

The crowds have been better – and there’s a lot more press to do. Traveling is different because there are two rooms now, so everyone doesn’t have to cram into one… I haven’t used my sleeping bag in a while (laughs).

We’ve all seen the cautionary tale rock ’n’ roll movies – have you discussed the changes this will bring?

We joke about it all the time but we’re mature guys. We’ve got a lot of experience, we made a lot of mistakes on the road to getting here, and I think we’re aware of the dangers. I’ve seen Let It Be and that Metallica movie – so I know the fighting that goes on. We’ll do our best to get along and to navigate the potential perils.

Will you appreciate the good things more than a newly-discovered band might?

Absolutely. I appreciate every time we get a free meal and every time somebody loads our gear. We’ve been working really hard and there are a lot of people who’ve been working with us. Having it all come together has been pretty wonderful.

What’s the most fantastic experience you’ve had since winning?

I think it would have to be meeting David Crosby and Graham Nash at the Rolling Stone headquarters. It was a pretty monumental experience and it’s very unlikely it would’ve happened otherwise.

What’s the next major order of business?

We’re touring all the way until Christmas and that includes some shows by ourselves, some U.S. dates, and the big Canadian tour with Kings of Leon in the fall. We’ll just be making sure everything goes smoothly and as planned – and that we continue to spread the good word.

Raised in Cranbrook, British Columbia, Louise Burns and her friends – more interested in making music than in local pastimes like hockey or hunting – formed pop/rock outfit Tigerlily when she was just 11 years old. In what seemed an impossible dream come true, Tigerlily landed a deal with Madonna’s Maverick Records in 2003, renamed themselves Lillix, and were launched into the spotlight – professionally-styled and singing carefully crafted hits like It’s About Time and a cover of The Romantics’ What I Like About You (which appeared on the soundtrack for the film Freaky Friday; with their music video starring then ‘It Girl,’ Lindsay Lohan). In 2006, disenchanted with the “meat grinder” mentality of the majors, Burns left Lillix and set off in search of her individuality. Now in 2011, the independent songstress has released her solo LP Mellow Drama and has found what she’d lost years ago... a genuine passion for making music.

You co-founded Lillix at just 11 – that’s astonishing.

In retrospect, I’ll admit it’s quite exceptional, but at the time it made perfect sense to us. We were small-town girls from Cranbrook – which was very hockey-centric and outdoorsy – and somehow, we were motivated enough to form a band and practice and enter this really crazy level of discipline. I’m not really sure how it that happened, but we never doubted it. We were really passionate.

What were your parents’ reactions?

[Lacey-Lee and Tasha-Ray Evin’s] dad was in a band so he was the most encouraging. We got to use their basement to practice and they had a lot of instruments. My parents were supportive too, but perhaps a little more reluctant because I experimented with everything. When I started with the band I was already a pianist in the Royal Conservatory so it kind of made sense to them, but then they were like, ‘Bass guitar? …Uh, okay.’

If you played piano, how did you end up on bass?

I had no idea what one was (laughs); I had no concept of it. But when Lacey and Tasha said, ‘Can you be the bass player?’ I just said, ‘Yes’ and that was it.

Eventually you got signed and things started to change – is that right?

It wasn’t a traumatic experience because nobody was hurt or abused, but the music industry – which I call a meat grinder – took everything we thought we believed in about making music and just tore it to shreds. It became about money and marketing and we became a product of theirs. We were really aware of that and it was hard to deal with. My relationship with music became all about writing commercial songs for the radio and existing to impress the people who were paying for our record. It got really messed up in my head – to the point where I didn’t know what I was doing anymore.

Tell me about the time immediately after Lillix.

Well, it was a healing period for me. I knew I loved songwriting and music more than anything else in the entire universe, but I didn’t know if I could ever do that to myself again – what if it was another heartbreaking experience and everyone just thought that all my hard work was garbage? I knew I probably couldn’t take it. So I just stopped thinking about that kind of music and started playing in bands and finding the real meaning behind my love of music, instead of forcing myself into it.

How did you finally start again?

Well, I never really stopped – I’ve been writing ever since I quit [Lillix], but I finally got my s—- together in 2008 when I found the sound that I was trying to get to, and I found out what it was I loved about music again... true passion in my songwriting.

What’s the biggest positive to being solo?

Definitely control. In the studio, I get to be creative and have control over the music I make. I really, really like that I can just call the shots and have everything go my way (laughs). There are no egos to balance. For me, it works – at least for now.

Your bio says, ‘Mellow Drama opens the book on a personality that was submerged during [your] long apprenticeship years.’ Is that true?

Nobody ever knows what they’re about in their early teens but I definitely felt like I couldn’t be myself during that time. It wasn’t honest for me to say, ‘I am so into [Lillix’s] music’ because I wasn’t. Mellow Drama reintroduced me – in an honest way.

British Columbia’s Louise Burns was just 11 years old when her band Tigerlily was signed to Madonna’s Maverick Records in 2003. Renamed Lillix and meticulously repackaged, Burns found that she’d assumed a role that had little to do with her true love of rock, and eventually quit in 2006. Studying at university by day and playing in bands at night, she began the process of penning new material, slowly repairing her broken-down relationship with songwriting. The end result – her debut solo LP Mellow Drama – shows that Burns has come full circle, and returned to her strong songwriting roots.

What was recording of Mellow Drama like?

I was in university at the time and I was playing in like five bands – and working – so recording the album became an escape for me. I’d go at night to the studio and work with the producers and it was really fun and positive. I completely enjoyed myself in the studio… and that was new for me.

Was it scary to just be Louise Burns?

I was afraid to release this record because I thought people would brush it aside and that Lillix would come back to haunt me – which is so silly and ridiculous. I wasted a lot of time thinking like that.



Your single, What Do You Wanna Do reminds me of a kinder, gentler Detroit Cobras…

Thank you – I love that!


But the rest of the album doesn’t have that sound at all.

Yeah, it was really important to me not to release a kitschy, sixties-throwback record. I love that kind of music and I loved writing that song, but it’s not a reflection of everything I’m about.



What’s your attraction to that era?

The songs are just so good and they make you feel happy. Mr. Postman by The Marvelettes is really goofy... the lyrics, the way she sings it, the way it’s produced – but it’s so real and heartbreaking without even trying to be. It’s minimum effort and maximum impact.



I call it gutsy to cover The Gypsy’s Wife – would you agree?

It’s always risky when you cover a legend, but I just love Leonard Cohen so much. I saw him play two years ago and I’d actually never heard the song before – I’d always listened to his early, early records. This flamenco guitarist accompanied him and it was so beautiful. It really struck me. So, I started to cover it acoustically around town, and it got a really good reception, and I thought, ‘why not try it on the record?’

Which artists have had the most impact on you?

David Bowie, Patsy Cline, Sam Cooke, Neil Young… and girl groups of the fifties and sixties. I also really love The Pretenders, The Smiths and Roxy Music – and a lot of country music too, like Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn...

What’s the common thread?

I’m really a fan of songwriting and I love well-put-together songs that mean something without sounding precious or earnest.

As an artist, what would you say are the most significant changes to the music business in the past decade?

The most obvious one would be the loss of dependency on record sales. Sales are almost irrelevant now – it’s more about downloads and the whole record industry has nearly crumbled because of it. I definitely notice there’s a lot less money going around, which is a good thing because less people are able to waste it. But the Internet is the biggest thing... I really love that a kid can discover a band like Siouxsie and the Banshees while sitting in his basement in the most remote town in the universe. People have access to everything now and that’s just such a positive, cool thing.

What about as a female artist?

Right now there’s a lot of female empowerment in music – and it feels pretty real – but ultimately it hasn’t changed a whole lot. I still get frustrated when I play a show and a guitar tech tells me how to plug my amp in… like, f--- you, I know how to do that. That never really ends. There are so many more female writers now who are doing their share of the work and not just the object sitting pretty in front of the camera, you know?

For all you’ve been through in your career and for all the tough lessons, what one are you the most grateful for?

Hmmm… probably that everything is temporary. Everything comes and goes and you have to make sure that you like what you’re doing because otherwise you’re wasting time, and opportunities to do the things you really care about can pass you by. You can’t hold onto anything too tightly.