Originally from http://myspace.com/wagmagazinecanada
don’t know about anyone else – both my age younger or older, but many of my “early childhood memories” are made with an imprint of radio – a wave with a frequency more repetitive and direct than a TV (which had come later on – and thus “Sesame Street” after my parent’s first radio.
1460 CJOY was the station and many of the “radio imprints” i got from this station made me feel like i was being raised as a white orphan in a “soul family” in the south ; CJOY played a lot of soul and 70’s top forty.
Somewhere between the radio’s soul message and the tv’s ‘people in the neighbourhood’ was my two parents and an eclectic record collection; The Beatles “Rubber Soul”, some Charly Rich ( whom, after eating at the local Pickwicks, i had substituted with Charly Darwin), John Denver, Gordon Lightfoot and even Donna Summer and Bob Marley and the Wailers “Exodus” – perhaps prompted by my parent’s trip to Jamaica, or at least a love of “Jammin’ with James”.
In the world of [MP3s] and [Video MPEGs] and memory that becomes something you wear (or something that causes your soul to melt), we wonder about our ‘early imprints’ of both ethics (from an anthropological viewpoint) and ‘old master design’ from a theocratic and artistic perspective.
I always start off with the little radio (now seemingly tuned in to every station at once and somehow able to ‘magically imbue’ the breadbox which it sat on with a ‘nutritional blessing’ – be it from Soul music or Canadian folk.
Later on, of course, after we wake from an ecstasy soaked rave experience, we realize that there is no such thing as magic – it’s just a drop of ‘holy water’ in a lake of the stuff, the speciallness of the ‘soul of the child’ wears off – you got a few channels and, as even “the boss” has mentioned, there’s ‘nothing on.’
This leads me to the premise of ‘making a good imprint’ ( once we’re old enough and mature enough to properly qualify and amenisize our sensory experience to disavow ‘the holy of holies’.) Now that we know the tricks of ‘making an impression’ we want to have ‘touch sensitive mp3s available for download at our local “Ark of the Covenant”‘
Oh, i’m sure it’ll happen, the only problem is that the “scientific bridge to legitimacy” is often cluttered with ‘fool’s paths’ and treacherous ‘technological numbness’ that doesn’t allow for ‘the force’ to flow through the channels of legitimacy.
And, then again, some people just have a problem with “society” versus “god”. The crux of this problem is there are only two sides to this permutation : you can play the social god seeker or the god fearing (anti) socialite and, in many cultures, 2 is a confusing and polaritous number.
I guess we all can say that “someone” or something” leaves us with impressions (which are sometimes called ‘directives for life’) that are best filed under “G”, for their distinct self-reflexivity and self-motivated quality. Some of these impressions, like a packet of polaroids, leave us wondering if (famous person x) has ever heard (obscure ‘evil’ music z) and really liked it. Like, does Billy Joel listen to Goa Trance? And like it? That’s some good G music (i wasn’t trained as a musician but i know that in art, as in life, we need to follow not only an initial ‘key’ but a time signature.)
I’m the type of person that like to “take impressions” rather than “give impressions”, but aren’t we all like that? Non? No, i guess not. I suppose it’s half because i’m an aries and i was both a hockey goalie as well as a softball back-catcher : i take notes, i have big hairy scottish ears, i have protective equipment, some of which is ‘music you can’t just get out of your head’.
This all leads me to the presence of a magazine, a good impression at coffee tables around everywhere (especially for those who have a taste for [ pulp ]. My first impressions of life were laid upon me by the psionics of radio programming and demographics – it’s like french immersion but it’s virtual reality before they had virtual reality, which is why it’s not all there and it’s only in virtual space.
The Wag may, one day, grow to encompass a distribution syndicate that operates like a well oiled and (artificially) intelligent machine. I like starting soft because, as all SoftSoul/SoftRock fans know, we weren’t all born to rock.
The Wag, like some “Favorite” songs, is supposed to taste good to the eye and tongue. We know the Egyptians used embalming to give egress to the afterlife – nowadays it’s internetcafeandmp3sfrom____ (perhaps a would-be girlfriend or boyfriend) and (nowadays) maybe both at once [bfgf]. Thing is you have to have the “right mix” to prevent the return of every internet cafe’s Egyptian monster, Halitosis – God of Bad Breath.
Nowadays, as our Generation X (not Y, X) genes begin to develop we begin to recall that so many times when we would hear music we’d get more sense information than just marked for the ear. The taste of coffee, maybe tea (with milk) someone speaking, what was that Gaelic? French? Spanish? German dribble cup into, what is that, Hebrew?
Though (perhaps i should warn you that this is somewhat of a RomanCatholic conspiracy) Marconi is touted as the inventor of radio, you can still see the triumverate of wire, crystal and radial dial in (did you say Atlantean) Egyptian society. I grew up with Joe’s Holiday Platers (named after another Egyptian secret, electroplating), and i wonder (this doesn’t exclude the possibility that Marconi was a member of an Egyptian society before they built Rome in a couple hours) ‘ if the Egyptians had electroplating’ why not a light bulb? radio? crystal-drive UFO technologies and other things that are believed to be the creation of “those horny gray-haired old man writers of ‘HeavyMetal'”?
Am i now leaving you with an impression? Is that more the plan of a Sagittarian rather than a shy Aries?
Am i doing a good job? Does your butt wag with the zine?
I suppose, if asked, I would only have one ‘pet peeve’ and it’s more a criticism of the inability of one language sense not able to ‘shake hands’ with an other language sense : TV comes off as either caperingly capricious, leaving a stank pang of envy, or a numbing ‘buy it and get out and i hope you lose it on the way so we can employ ourselves to do a consumer followup’. Is this too “Men in Black” for you?
But, siriusly, that painful ‘disabled versions of reality left disabled due to consumer equity malfunction’ causes me so much confusion, envy and ill-will. I wish the radio, tv and other (semi) analogue devices would just represent the glory of the past and the honesty of the passage of time in the present and the dim light of hope to the future. Maybe The Wag is part of the solution. Maybe someone out there intentionally invented a word called souliton ( no legal proceedings with regard to domain and catechizmic identifiers, yet ).
The Wag’s byline: “solutions for the eye, ear and hand ( it’s an online zine that doubles as a carpal tunnel router ).
What I think we’re all waiting for is a magazine that can read your mind, deprogram you and fire information to your soulmemory for that charismatic “impressario” edge we’re all searching for. I grew up believing that everyone is a little Italian.
Let me hope we can leave you impressed, ciao for now!