300 million reasons to frown

And so begins the day after. I can recall a time, not so long ago when Canadian federal elections actually decided something. Alas, that all seemed to go out the window with 12 years of virtually unchallenged Liberal rule in the Nineties, and early in the current decade. Let's face it; the landscape of federal politics has changed in this country. The minority that the Conservatives reached last night marks the third consecutive non-majority government in this country, a trend I see continuing. The fact is, voters are increasingly polarized and fragmented in this nation. We now have four national parties, and a fifth (the Bloq) that commands two-thirds of the seats in our second most-populace province. Things are fractured, simply put.

And thus, it irks me this morning to think that Stephen Harper and the Conservatives had the audacity to spend $300 million in a fruitless bid to win the elusive majority they so clearly crave. Forget the nonsense Harper spent the campaign spouting about how Parliament had become dysfunctional. The Tory minority that began in 2006 was actually both the longest serving minority we've ever had, and one of the most productive as well. Minority rule keeps parties and governments honest. It manufactures a spirit of cooperation, and compromise. Minority governments cannot force controversial legislation upon the Canadian public without it first passing a legislature that can defeat it at any time. Now, it is true that the Tory minority enjoyed considerable support from a Liberal opposition that was in disarray, and saddled with a puzzling and difficult leader in Stephane Dion.

Speaking of Dion, one major change did occur in yesterday's fiasco; you can bet your socks that Stephane Dion will not be leading the Liberal Party of Canada in the next general election. Last night's results represented the worst general election showing by the Liberals in Canadian history. If the Grits didn't already have the knives out for Dion, you can be sure that it was indeed the sound of multiple blades being sharpened that you could hear during Michael Ignatieff's interview with the CBC late last night.

The NDP made modest gains yesterday, increasing their seat total by seven from 2006. It was a bit of a disheartening result for Jack Layton, no doubt, but the New Democrats are nothing if not realistic. The slim chance they had to form the opposition made for good press for the party, but really this election was about making some strong gains across the country, while waiting for the waters to clear for the next election. Layton has almost assuredly maintained the support of his party, and will lead them into battle again next time around. The result wasn't as strong as what the NDP faithful had hoped for, but was still encouraging enough to grease the wheels for another solid push in the next campaign.

I must admit I am a bit surpised that the Green Party did not gain a single seat yesterday. Now, it cetainly wasn't the wisest of moves running leader Elizabeth May against Tory incumbent Peter McKay in a Nova Scotia Tory stronghold. If May is to gain a seat in the House of Commons, it will likely have to come via a by-election down the road.

The Bloq? More of the usual from Gilles Duceppe and company. They fought a skilled campaign as always, and again the leader's job is likely Duceppe's for as long as he wants it. Their roughly 50 seat take represents a full two-thirds of Quebec's total, so the Bloq have maintained their considerable presence on the Hill.

So what else did this election accomplish? Not much, really. It proved that Stephen Harper does not look anything but hokey in a sweater, that Stephane Dion for all his intellectual wizardry comes across as awkward and unfocused, that Jack Layton while arguably the most eloquent and polished of the federal leaders still can't get that elusive breakthrough the NDP have waited decades for, and that May will continue to be a bit player on the scene for the time being. Three-hundred million dollars spent to prove what many of us already knew; minorities are becoming the new norm in Canadian elections. In another year to 16 months, we'll likely get the chance to prove this theory true all over again. Boo-urns.

Ten years after

I still have many pictures from that particular phase of my life. I was young, full of rock n roll vigour, and itching to play loud and proud. The photos say it all; four crazy guys striking their best wannabe rock star poses; sneering, leering, posing and preening. I was in my twenties, and living the semi-professional musician's life; the cover gigs, the small stages and dive bars, the mediocre pay, the sparse crowds populated almost entirely by friends and family. It was as Dickens once wrote, both the best of times, and the worst of times.

The year was 1998, and I had just taken an indefinite "sabbatical" from University to pursue the rock n roll dream. I had just formed a new band of some potential, and being young and idealistic, I threw myself into it with reckless abandon. We had a fantastic rehearsal space, a 500-square foot warehouse across the street from the beer store and local mall. Four nights a week for we bashed out our favourite cover songs over and over again, and before long, we were a well-oiled machine. The gigs started to come in fast and furious. We took them all. No gig was too small, or insignificant. We hit the local bars, outdoor festivals, corn roasts, and backyard parties. It almost goes without saying that I don't recall ever making a dime, as what little pay we ever did receive went straight into our bellies in the form of barley and hops, not to mention the money we spent on fliers, portfolios, and transportation. Getting rich was never the point. The point was that we were young, ambitious, wild, and living our own little personal dream.

I had more fun playing music that year than I ever had before, or likely since. The demise of the band was predictable. It was the usual "Jimmy quit, Joey got married" (Bryan Adams, Summer of '69) bit. Our drummer and second guitarist both became fathers, and got married, while I moved back to my hometown for a couple years to reassess my life and its priorities. However, for a brief moment in time, I lived the musician's life... and every minute of it was great.

So why do I bring this blast from my past up at this time? Well, long story short, after years of brief one-off reunions, and aborted attempts to form new bands, my old cohorts and I have once again joined forces. Ten years later (sounds like a good promotional avenue: the ten year reunion tour... ha ha), those four lads are older, balder, and wiser. Time is often cruel, but the four of us are infinitely better musicians, and having all grown the heck up, have no illusions of grandeur. Four guys in a room, pounding out good old-fashioned loud rock n roll for the sheer enjoyment of it. We have a space rented, and a practice schedule set up. When you get to be a bit older, as we all have, you learn to appreciate the simple details of playing music. The mere chance to plug into the Marshalls, stand in front of 'em and let the force shake you is far more thrilling when you've spent several years playing in your basement.

So, before long, no backyard shindig, barbeque, or hole-in-the-wall local venue will be safe. Sure hope the beer is cold when we get there.