Violence: So what random act of violence story do you have to remember 2007 by? I saw a guy hit in the head with a brick. Violence continued to be the big pink elephant in City Hall. When an elderly woman is beaten up by a group of young girls with a table leg on the Common, it’s obvious there’s a problem. And what’s our solution? It’s not admitting that there’s a problem. No, it’s not providing community activities and support for violent youth. No, it’s not augmenting police procedures to boost patrols on the Common. It’s holding round-table discussions in Porter’s Lake and having meetings with the right-wing vigilante group, the Guardian Angels. ML
The Loonie takes flight: Having a soaring dollar has its advantages and disadvantages (most of which we’re still struggling to understand with our feeble, artistically-inclined brains—importers are happy, exporters are sad?), but this much we can say with certainty: There is a particular satisfaction in being able to buy stuff online and have the converted Canadian price be less, not more, than the listed American price. It feels like we’re getting away with some kind of petty theft—and we loooove thievin’.
And, of course, to put everything in perspective, cross-border dollar parity probably has less to do with the recent awesomeness of the Canadian dollar and more to do with the recent crappiness of the US dollar. But even the most sober, wonky economic analyst could recognize a spike in Canadian loonie-driven pride. Take that, Amurhica! Finally, we can buy and sell your ass! MF
Sopranos swansong: If you have any doubts about the importance of The Sopranos, consider Journey. The band’s early-’80s hit “Don’t Stop Believin'” went from guilty pleasure to 2007 sensation after it was used in the final scene of the show finale. Do the masses writhing on the dance floor know they have Tony Soprano to blame for unearthing Steve Perry’s vocal time capsule? It matters as little as wondering if Tony got whacked when the screen abruptly cut to the thunderous black silence. Whether he’s dead or not, the show is gone. After 86 episodes and nearly a decade—thanks to a forgiving HBO schedule—it’s over, leaving behind a slew of “greatest TV in history” accolades and more influences than we’ll ever know. And in its place? HBO debuted John From Cincinnati on June 10, right after The Sopranos ended. Coming from David Milch, the genius creator behind Deadwood, and following in Tony Soprano’s footsteps, maybe John was burdened with too much expectation. Or maybe the show, about a surfing Jesus figure, just sucked. Cancelled after 10 laborious episodes, now it’s gone, too. KS
Cross town: Didn’t they say that Dartmouth Crossing was going to be different from the BLIP, a much more pedestrian-friendly place to shop? Or did I hallucinate that bit of hype? Its website says it “brings together the best elements of any shopping experience.” A hell of a claim. It does boast one area—the one with the new Mexx store, Le Chateau and Reitmans—in which you can park your car in the centre lot and walk from store to store. The concept seems almost revolutionary. But the rest of those big boxes? You gotta drive to all of them via a labyrinthine conjunction of roadways. One bus, number 56, takes you out there every half hour or so. Waiting in the cold with your big bags of shopping booty for up to 30 minutes has to be the best element of any shopping experience. Dartmouth Crossing also comes with a multiplex—12 new screens to prevent more openings in the downtown core. Yes, new movies will open downtown and then move to the suburbs, but vice-versa? Never. It means well-reviewed releases like 3:10 to Yuma and Enchanted never screened in cinemas where peninsular film nuts and the non-vehicular university student body could readily appreciate them. That, my friends, is a genuine shame. CK
Britney Spears: Last year Britney Spears’s biggest medical concern was the weekly reappearance of her bald va-jay-jay getting out of cars. In 2007, we were worried about her head: She shaved said noggin, (so that the curtains matched the carpet), umbrella-jabbed paparazzi, ran over things, did some rehab, left rehab, lost kids, missed court, wandered aimlessly, drank some Big Gulps and still managed to put out an under-appreciated dance-pop album. (Yes, that’s right. I said it. I like Blackout.) She’s one step away from a Larry King confessional segment and becoming future inspiration for Dick Wolf’s Law & Order. Someone please, please take care of this poor girl? SCF
Sports shame: Hey, what the fumble happened to pro athletes? I mean, sweet Jeebus, who didn’t have a scandal this year? It turned out that baseball players are all juiced up, (and Barry Bonds became the most shameful king since Louis the XVI); the Tour de France has more dopers on bicycles than Burning Man; Michael Vick is eating puppies (or something equally horrifying) and a professional basketball ref was found guilty of betting on…drum roll…pro basketball.
Dude. Charles Barkley told us he wasn’t a role model back in 1993, but this is ridiculous. Sports fans, our only advice is this: Put on blinders, stuff cotton balls into your ears and try to focus on the drug-free wonder that is Sidney Crosby is. It’s your best hope for the New Year. MF
The White Stripes: The White Stripes take the cake for the best show this year you never attended. I’m not talking about their huge rock fest at the Cunard Centre. That show was “meh” at best. (With meatheads pushing people around and stubborn spot holders with jabbing elbows, it felt like I was watching Nickleback on the hill.) What made the White Stripes memorable was the excitement shared across the city, as hundreds of fans scrambled to find the venue for the White Stripe’s intimate private show. Dozens of predictions were made at the office and on Halifax Locals. Would it be on the ferry? On a tall ship? On the waterfront? With cellphones ringing and buzzing, people made their way to Citadel Hill waiting an hour before scurrying off to the next possible venue, before ending up at Locas Bar. I never made it to the secret show, but the thrill of the chase was enough for me. ML
Helen Hill: January 5, 2007 felt like a dream. No, an awful nightmare. For those who knew beloved animator Helen Hill, her husband Paul Gailiunas and baby boy Francis Pop, the news of her senseless murder, the day before in New Orleans, came as an awful, horrible, terrible shock. For those who didn’t know Hill during her time in Halifax—but sure as hell wished they had the chance—there were struggles to comfort tearful friends. As the news spread internationally, Halifax focused on healing, privately and publicly. Quickly organized brunches, fundraisers, film screenings, a Mardi-Gras-style parade and loving notes anonymously posted on a Gottingen billboard, became bigger symbols of a caring and supportive community. SCF
One World/NED: While different in many ways, One World Cafe and the North End Diner both delivered the same devastating wallop to the heart of Halifax with their demises. Not a Sunday goes by that I don’t wish for another diner like the NED: A place where families, hung-over university kids, elderly couples, average Joes and indie locals could come together for friendly service and fishcakes, all at a price that couldn’t be beaten.
Local community took another hit, when the One World Cafe boarded up this September after lingering financial troubles. Suddenly, a whole legion of all-ages kids and musicians were venue-less. There were always people hanging out in front of the cafe, and I’ve wondered where they are now. It was the one place you could go meet a new friend, catch an intimate performance from Julie Doiron and be in bed your bed by midnight with $20 of liquor money still in your pocket. RIP. ML
Moist Towelettes, Windom Earle and Zoobombs at The Seahorse, Halifax Pop Explosion, October 19: If I was that big-headed Burger King and could pick my entertainment with a flick of a large royal pinky, I would choose this night. Moist Towelettes had me with their opening cover of Frank Chickens’ “We Are Ninja!” and by the time streamers shot out from their rings, and the Tokyo foursome in the glittery togas were singing and dancing to Mitsou’s “Bye Bye Mon Cowboy,” everyone was moist and in love. The crowd really started losing their marbles at Mark Little and Windom Earle’s “Beef chow mein” call and response, and when the Zoobombs arrived with their multi-guitar Zeppelin-hotness insanity, the crowd was so worked up, no one seemed to care if they were standing under the dodgy pee-water leaking from the ceiling. SCF
Parity planning: The year began with an actors’ union labour stoppage, then the dollar soared to parity and beyond. As a result, a big chunk of the local film business, which depends on American production coming to Atlantic Canada, had a damn hard time finding work. To help the situation, in September the province ponied up another serious tax break for producers, once again putting Nova Scotia on top of the national sweet-deal-to-shoot-here heap. The fact of the matter is, until the industry considers itself an independent entity rather than just an American service-provider, and English-speaking Canada decides it wants to see home-grown movies in theatres, things in the biz will remain cyclically precarious. CK
Zombie bands: Call it the year of bands that won’t stay dead. Two-thousand-and-seven brought multiple doses of reconciliation and cash-grabbing concert spectaculars and everyone seemed to catch past-glory fever. Zeppelin? Arisen! Robert Plant may not be hitting all the high notes like he used to on Black Dog, but Jimmy Page looks like some kind of sly, all-knowing grandfatherly rock guitar hero. The Police? Arisen! Genesis? Arisen! (Granted, without Peter Gabriel. But still.) The Spice Girls? Arisen! Suddenly it’s like a MuchMoreMusic special up in here! And now, fans are old enough to afford the $115 ticket price! Brilliant!
I’d also like to take this opportunity to point out that, as of this writing, there are groups on Facebook asking to bring three out of those four bands to Halifax—proof once again that hope springs eternal on the internet (and also, that nobody in this town really gives two shits about Phil Collins. Sorry, Phil.) I suppose all the nostalgia shows are appropriate in a year dominated by a Journey song from 1981. Will your favourite band reunite in 2008? Don’t stop believin’. MF
“Well then, I’ll tell her myself”: It’s not very often that a film develops a cult while still showing in the cinema, when you can still overhear people discussing it for weeks afterwards. Even more rare, now boosted by a torrent of critics awards, The Coen Brothers’ No Country for Old Men is moving beyond its cult status and is widely considered the best film of 2007. And it really might be. CK
R. Kelly: Genius? Moron? Criminal? While Michael Jackson hides in bankrupt seclusion peeling chunks of his face off the floor, R. Kelly—still facing child pornography charges and umpteen lawsuits—releases chapters 13 to 22 of the hip-hopera Trapped in the Closet, records a charitable track for victims of the Virginia Tech Massacre, and claims to Hip-Hop Soul magazine that, “I’m the Ali of today. I’m the Marvin Gaye of today. I’m the Bob Marley of today. I’m the Martin Luther King, or all the other greats that have come before us. Lots of people are starting to realize that.” That’s some real talk, hmmm, oh yeah, hmmm. But what Kelly lacks in ego, he makes up for with his mo-fo, potty-tongued, insane stream-of-consciousness, which makes me howl and shake my head every time I hear that crazy dude speak-sing. SCF
Apocalypse, like, today: The state of global democracy hit a new low in 2007. How else do you assess the opinion of US military commanders in Iraq who said infrastructure and stability are the only achievable measure of success, not a working democracy. You’d see how they’d make that claim, since they’re pretty much in charge of military power in the country, not the Iraqi government. On the American home front, Hillary Clinton has the White House in her sights. If she gets in it’ll mean that two families have held an oligarchic grip over the free world for more than 20 years. We have the sterling example of Vladimir Putin, president of Russia, and his complete control of that nation’s media, securing a landslide election victory. And how about Pervez Musharraf, the smiling president of Pakistan, who with US support declared martial law in his country when the constitutionality of the October election was brought into question. There’s Burma/Myanmar and its crackdown on pro-democracy protesters and Mugabe running riot in Zimbabwe. And here in Canada? Well, we gave Harper a minority awhile back, and he formed a government less transparent than the last scandal-enshrouded administration, and recently sent reps to join the side of US and China vs. The World at the Bali climate conference, where they argued economics are as important as the environment. Sigh. CK
The Environment: I heard a lot of people scoff when Al Gore and the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Intergovernmental_Panel_on_Climate_Change) were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. Initially, I was also part of the collective jeers. But this past year pop culture was awash with words like “sustainable” and “green.” After An Inconvenient Truth won the Academy award for Documentary Feature, the environmentalism train hasn’t slowed down. Hell, Melissa Etheridge’s * I Need to Wake Up* even won best original song. The environment was 2007’s cover girl, gracing the glossy pages of Vanity Fair and the like. It even rose to the high profile celebrity-crises fame of famine and poverty with the Live Earth multi-city rock concert. It’s now hip to be green and nothing’s hotter than an ecosexual. And we owe it all to Al. ML
Live Art Productions 25th Anniversary: Live Art founder Diane Moore was one of the first people from the Halifax arts community I met when I moved to the city. Within 15 minutes of a memorable conversation, she candidly shared the struggles of operating a contemporary dance production organization and the particulars of her illness, which would sadly take her life in December 2003. Ultimately Moore wanted to make sure that Live Art, which she started in 1981 as the IndepenDance Series at Eyelevel Gallery, would continue in good hands. And it has. Not only did Live Art celebrate their 25-year anniversary in 2007, they also celebrated their existence as the only Atlantic Canadian dance presenter, drawing international and national names, offering artist residences and commissioning over 20 works, as well as a mandate to cultivate local talent. January also marked the first time the Diane Moore Creation Scholarship was presented, this year to the talented dancer/choreographer Jacinte Armstrong.SCF
Major League Baseball: A few weeks before the All-Star Game my friend declared the Red Sox would win the pennant. But with more than 80 games left, I said it was a foolish prediction. Although a game of numbers, baseball is anything but predictable, and 2007 proved it. Who would have predicted games being snowed out in April, Red Sox rookie Clay Buchholz pitching a no-hitter in his second start, Barry Bonds surpassing Hank Aaron’s home-run record, the Rangers scoring 30 runs in one game, the Mets dropping a seven game lead with only 17 games left, the Red Sox coming from three games out to the Indians to win the AL Championship and beat the (who?!) Rockies in the World Series? But the most unpredictable thing from the 2007 season is what impact the Mitchell Report will have on the sport. But if Babe Ruth could hit 60 home runs hung over and over weight using a poorly designed bat hitting a loosely wound ball in a ball park that’s 100 feet bigger, I think it’ll be fine. ML
Winehouse by Nature: Most of us heard of her extracurricular activities before we heard her proudly defiant anthem “Rehab,” and how she won’t go, go, go because her “Daddy” thinks she’s fine. Well, now he’s in jail, and Amy Winehouse’s folks are using the British press to communicate with their daughter. Yes, the most impressive voice of the decade is coming out of a car wreck of a person. I guess that’s what they call rock and roll. CK
Brother Ali at the Attic: They just kept asking to do one more song.
Minneapolis-based MC Brother Ali swooped into town on a Wednesday night in October to play the Halifax Pop Explosion, the final show on his cross-country Canadian tour. Accompanied by a Rhymesayers entertainment posse, Ali came prepared to end the tour with some shit-hot hip-hop. He did not disappoint.
“Who here has to go to work in the morning?”—The crowd was polled at various points throughout the evening. Despite cheers/groans of affirmation, most stuck it out for the entire set, which didn’t shut down until sometime near 4am.
After a high-energy opening act from Toki Wright and a more intricate flow from veteran Blueprint, Ali unloaded with a torrent of rhymes, beats and raw energy, blowing through tracks from his April release The Undisputed Truth (easily one of the best hip-hop albums of 2007). After running over 45 minutes long (all at a ridonculous tempo, we might add) Ali literally begged the soundman not to cut the power; if they had let him, he might have kept going straight through until sunrise. No one would have complained. MF
Wham bam ma’am: Not many hearts were broken when the US TV writers went on strike, partly because so few of the new shows are really memorable. Dirty Sexy Money has a great cast but maybe a too familiar, soapy tale of super-rich mischief. Pushing Daisies is at least different, borrowing the whimsy of Amelie and the charming morbidity of The Addams Family for its peculiar palette, but Bionic Woman seems to only be aiming for fans of JJ Abrams’s Alias with secret agent Jaime Summers hiding the nihilism and danger of her work from her little sister. It’s action-packed, though fun only intermittently. At least Heroes is improved from last year, despite creator Tim Kring going on the record about the show’s plot problems as a result of declining ratings. CK
This article appears in Dec 27, 2007 – Jan 2, 2008.
