Toronto, Canada.

I do not think that I've actually bought a single CD in the past ten years. That being said, I could not possibly have listened to a wider variety of music and could not possibly have been exposed to more interesting range of genres and sounds.

Everyone seems to be chiming in with their best-of-2000s list and it's not like me not to have an opinion.

Most of my friends have always considered me to be somewhat of a music-snob. I'm the guy who's always been ranting and raving about the most obscure independent music... I know, it's obnoxious. Which is why it very much surprised me when I looked at my list of favorite singles from the past ten years and found it to be chock-filled of top 40 pop songs. In fact, it's an embarrassing reality to myself that says that possibly, quite possibly, the masses are right.

My favorite singles of the decade.

Britney Spears - Toxic (2003)

This is the perfect pop song. Brilliantly made. The tight beat, glitch-hop-infused production and gorgeous synthstrings create a unique soundscape that accentuates the bright spots of the star's voice while effectively minimizing her significant limitations. Bloodshy and Avant capture the sound of a bonafide celebrity at the peak of her fame.



Thicke - Lazybones (2002)

It's the sound of summertime. The first time I heard this I thought that it was Terrence Trent D'Arby. The highest compliment that one can deliver on a piece of pop music. Upon listening, you instantly can figure out how Robin Thicke became a star. Pharrell Williams or any of the other producers who worked with him didn't care about the singer's pedigree or appearance... they cared about his songwriting and soul. Nothing that he's put out since is anything close to as good.




Frisbie - Pollyanna (2000)

A hidden gem with the best lyric of the past ten years.... "popping bubble plastic just to keep me awake" I first heard about Frisbie in the fall of 2000, when they were right about to make the jump from local Chicago indie favorites to nationwide act. I love their brand of Beatlesque pop rock with brilliant lyrics and bouncy soul. This particular single has been on constant rotation in my house almost ever since.



The Killers - Mr. Brightside (2004)

This is the only song ever that's made me want to do karaoke. It comes on in a bar and every single person in the place starts mouthing the words. There's something special about that.



Rival Schools - Travel By Telephone (2002)

I put this song on and I want to go outside and skateboard through the suburbs. Good songs should always bring an emotion. For whatever reason this song reminds me of the diabetic coma that is Mountain Dew.



Maroon 5 - This Love (2002)

You heard this song on constant rotation for at least three years. First the indie stations jumped on it. Then mainstream rock picked it up. Then it was the theme song at your holiday party one year. Then your grandmother started humming it to you. There's a reason that this song had such legs. It's the same reason that makes you never want to hear this again even though you can't get that great chord progression out of your mind.



Gnarles Barkley - Crazy (2006)

The anthem of the decade. A wonderful piece of music that effortlessly leads itself to being covered. At Lollapalooza 2006 no less than 4 different bands played this song. The best of which was Jack White's Raconteurs, who just literally knocked it out of the park.



Foo Fighters - The Pretender (2007)

I'm not a fan whatsoever of the Foo Fighters. I find almost all their music to be derivative unoriginal suburbanite sludge. The kind of music that you expect to be on in the background while you're stuck buying gifts at Hot Topic. That being said, this track is such a stellar accomplishment of all that they are oh-so-capable of. A loud anthemic song with great energy and drive. Tight as can be. The greatest rock video of the decade backing it all up.... This is rock star extrodinaire. Dave Grohl is not only apparently the nicest guy in rock-n-roll. He's legitimately earned his street cred this decade through side gigs in Probot and Them Crooked Vultures.... oh and his history with those Nirvana folks ain't nothing to laugh at.



Air Traffic - Shooting Star (2007)

When I first heard this, I was convinced that this would become the biggest hit single in the world. That never happened. Perhaps they're not as good looking, or perhaps they had worse management than other acts.... but these British boys never quite built on their ridiculous SXSW buzz. Have a listen. It's the best Coldplay song of the decade, and it's by an entirely different band.



Depeche Mode - Dream On (2001)

Oh Martin Gore, how I hate you so. How the hell can you consistently write moody synth masterpieces that sound oh so organic? How can you utilize the tools and people around you so effectively? How can you make a simple guitar loop sound so damn good? You win. I give up.



Arcade Fire - Wake Up (2004)

An anthem that unintentionally served as the turning point for the decade. The song that served as the death-knell for the big record labels... for the classic four-piece rock band.. and for the formula of pop music as we know it. One of the rare tunes that sounds fresher the more you hear it. Watch this video. If you don't feel something after watching it, you are dead inside.

Toronto, Canada

Every once in a while, we're lucky enough to be in an environment where the world's simple facade can be peeled away and we can peer into the juicy center.

There are many layers to modern life. Take this week's conference at the MaRS center in Toronto for example...

Over 400 people came out to this particular event. It was the standard tech-conference demographic makeup. 90% male. Everyone holding several wired devices. Laptops. iPhones. Facial hair.

As attendees filtered into the room for the poorly named "mingling" session we sat in the back as people quietly took their seats and logged on.

Ten minutes before showtime, the room was full... but no one was talking. It was quiet enough that you could quite literally hear every single noise in the room... and then I realized it.... I looked around and watched as hundreds of fingers typed secret messages to one another.

I grabbed my seat at the front of the room and logged onto Twitter. Entered the proper hashtag... and suddenly it all made sense.

There was a conversation. It was just silent.

These quiet, poorly dressed introverts were actually all involved in a highly opinionated and visceral discussion amongst themselves. The mingle was in full effect. Having all these hypertechs in one room at one time did have the same conversation-catalyst effect as a nightclub. The power of proximity was clear.

One woman had sent me a message on Twitter before the event "looking forward to meeting you there, you won't be able to miss me!" The irony was thick.

#wtf

Los Angeles, USA.

The modern rock performance.

It's all about quality, not quantity.

From the moment the band took the stage, at exactly 11:14pm, to the moment that they left at 11:40pm a fury of non-stop energy.

Springsteen used to be known for 3 hour long shows. There are bands with 2nd encores longer than this... but no. 26 minutes flat. In and out. Onto the bus. Next city.

The whole entire tour can be recorded onto a single album.

A floppy disk instead of an iPod.

What can be said?

They had great haircuts. They wore skinny jeans.

Light show. Poses. 140 characters of noise.

The cultural equivilant of Twitter.

Iqaluit, Nunavut

When you think of dogs, several things come to mind.  

The family pet?  Man's best friend?  Lassie?  Lunch?    It all depends on where you're from.   

The cultural context is key.  

In this particular scenario, "Dogs" equals "the engine of the arctic".  They are the machine that makes it all run.

We packed up our sleds and headed out from Frobisher Bay at sunrise.   My wobbly morning legs no match for the sheer power of being drawn across a frozen lake by a team of vicious, rabid, meat-hungry wolves.

The first screaming left turn on the icy pass toppled over my sled as I grasped the handles for dear life.   As I quickly learned... if you happen to let go of the sled, the dogs will keep on running towards freedom and you will be left in the cold barren wasteland alone waiting to die.

My Hebrew-high-school education never prepared me for this.

Polar bears.  Knife fights.  The Aurora Borealis.  

Not a Starbucks in sight.

They say that the Inuit have fifteen words for snow.   I have only one.  "Snow".   In short, the whole excursion can be summed up with this simple syllable.   Snow.

 A licky boom boom down, indeed.

Washington DC, USA.

Did you watch the inauguration this week?

Sure, you did.

And so did everyone you know. And everyone they know. And everyone everywhere.

The largest human audience in the history of the planet gathered to share a collective moment, a passionate embrace with someone who we believe will make the world a better place. The vast scale and raw emotion of the moment was staggering. It was the moon-landing meets Woodstock meets New Years Eve meets the parting-of-the-Red-Sea.

Here's a character who may be the most popular human being of all recorded time solidifying his place into the collective consciousness.

Has it gone too far?

Yesterday, I had a serious conversation with an extremely bright friend where the topic was quite literally "Barack Obama is the Messiah. Discuss."

Please don't get me wrong. I like President Obama... in fact I essentially love the man.

I'm amazed at how much I do, in fact. I have newspaper clippings of him on my bookcase. I have several of his speeches permantly on view on my TiVo. I talk about him incessantly to anyone who will listen. I answer questions with "Yes, We Can".... I almost even bought the ridiculous Franklin Mint commemerative plate with his image on it.

We all have to be careful though.

Without getting too into it... Tuesday seemed like the set for the sequel to "Triumph of The Will". The passionate optimism. The nation captivated by a charismatic leader during a particularly rough time. Lengthy military parades... outpourings of love.... a man's last name becoming a fervant chant.

The "O" logo emblazed onto everything. Cars. T-shirts. Signs. Hats. Scarfs. Pins. Flags. Faces. Cereal Boxes. Tattoos. Brandings.

A nation captivated by the most charismatic figure since... well... um... yeah....

That one.

I'm going to keep believing that this is right. That we've all gotten behind something that's good for all of us. I'm going to keep believing that this is the greatest time of our lives. I'm going to believe that never before has so much opportunity been so within our reach.

We wanted change, we got it.

But if they start changing the name of O'Hare airport to O'Bama International... I might start getting a bit skeptical.

Can we all believe in a false prophet?

Yes, we can.

Toronto, Canada

I haven't quite figured out why we measure the passing of time in calender years. It seems to be an interesting way for us to make the whole ridiculous mind blowing concept tangible.

That being said, it's a wonderful way for us to create best-of lists.

It's been an absolutely stellar year, one of amazing people and wonderful adventures.

Everyone's been piping in on their picks for "albums of the year", and this seems like my best chance....

As much as I'd hate to admit it, I think that when we look back at this year the MGMT disc is going to be the most remembered and the most representative of this year. "Time To Pretend" and "Kids" are instant classic singles... and although their live show is weak as can be, and although the album is full of filler (those two singles and "Electric Feel" notwithstanding) as a whole, it's the most interesting new work this year.

I love the Yeasayer "All Hour Cymbals" album (although I think that it came out last year).

People seem to hate it, but I'm a sucker for My Morning Jacket's "Evil Urges" disc. The Friendly Fires disc is outstanding and the first three tracks on it are on constant rotation in my house. There's about 20 seconds of Chinese Democracy that make me forget how much of a completely overdone meth binge it is. My favorite live show of the year was De Novo Dahl, who I saw twice and each time were awesome.

It's old material, but in the end I think that the 18-bit reissue of Faith No More's "Angel Dust" is the best thing I've come across this year.

My favorite single of the year was "Let It Rock" by Kevin Rudolf with Lil' Wayne. It's a perfect pop track, and is superbly produced. That "take me to new york I want to get away..." song was also catchy as hell but I hate it like poison.

I didn't see many movies this year. Perhaps this had something to do with my seventeen-seconds long attention span. I guess that the best thing I watched this year was this short film I ended up making it with these two really fascinating flight attendants on a long flight back from Taipei. Of course, few of you will ever see it and let us never speak of it again.

My favorite TV show in 2008 was Little Britain USA, although I'm still a sucker for episodes of Maury Pauvich on YouTube. You are not the father, indeed.

What do you think? Anything good to share?

Toronto, Canada

A beautiful December morning.

There's a moment where I think to myself... does the guilt I get from consistently lying to all my friends and family negate the overwhelming warmth I feel from getting showered with love and well-wishes?

Regardless.

A social experiment.

How many birthdays can one person celebrate in a year before people catch on?

My guess. Three.

In actuality. Four.

You see, every couple of months I've been quietly changing my birth date on Facebook. And every couple of months THE SAME PEOPLE are wishing me a happy birthday

December 4th was my fourth birthday of the year.

You may recall the excellent birthday that I had in August or the wonderful one in June.

I agree, the one in April was kind of lame.

I used to know some fairly stupid people who would spin themselves silly on birthdays screaming "May you live until ONE HUNDRED and TWENTY!!!"

Well, this year... in one year alone...

I did.

Toronto, Canada.

I've never quite understood how different decades have a distinct feel to them. It just never seemed to jive with me. And then this week happened.

Think about how people have looked back at the 1960s.

Think about the optimism and hope that time meant to people. Think about the great strides in human innovation and the shattering of the conventions of the past. Think about the open minds and free spirits. Think about the change.

It all starts making sense.

This is our 1960s.

The collapse of the traditional global economy has necessitated people to harness their creativity and spirit just in order to make ends meet. Communication advances have made it possible to unharness ourselves from our static lives and truly interact with others, everywhere.

We're no longer stuck in our cubicles.

There's an overall freedom of mind and spirit. Perhaps it's the fact that we now all have access to all the information in history via the internet? Perhaps it's the way that we all carry thousands of songs on our portable entertainment devices? Perhaps the plethora of pornography is responsible for some twisted sort of new sexual revolution?

Free your mind.

Our voices are our most powerful weapon. We become part of communities and activist groups, perhaps not in person... but through the Face Book. We are not afraid to express ourselves. We wear our colors on our sleeves. We can add those who we agree with and block those who stand in our way.

We redefine that which has been sacred. We leave our pathetic starter marriages. We become open to unconventional interactions. We thrill with the new ideas, the new ways of living. We marvel at our friends. The best and brightest forming our new social circles.

We are captivated by leadership who we actually look up to. We feel the power of youth.

It's a complete global movement. The rise of the creative class, indeed.

In thirty years, we'll be talking about 2008 like our parents talk about 1968.

Chicago, USA.

I'm not sure when it hit me.

Perhaps it was when I realized that this was the largest group of people I have ever seen in one place...

Perhaps it was when I noticed that the crowd was made up of every single type of person, from every walk of life....

Perhaps it was the complete lack of fear... the amazing vibe... the sheer honesty of the whole moment...

Or the idea that the every individual combined formed a collective that was truly greater than the sum of it's parts...

Maybe it was the gratification that comes from a payoff that was more fulfilling than anyone could have imagined.

But it hit me.

And I will never forget it as long as I live.

Phoenix, USA.

A barren dessert.

Millions of people. A significant drought of dermatologists. Empty streets, chain restaurants and gentleman's clubs. The valley of the sun.

I suppose I lived here when I was a child. I can't really remember it all that well. Either way, Phoenix seems to be known for three things. Hot weather. Cold people. John McCain.

The poor guy doesn't have a chance.

So I thought let's help him out. See, Presidential politics is all about how you market yourself.... and right now aside from the 'creepy mothball' demographic, the man is suffering.

An idea.

Make him hip again. Speak to his core constituencies in a way that brings out their memories of what's cool combined with items they use in their daily life.

So I made a poster.

God bless America.

Los Angeles, USA

"Hi there.

This is surreal.

Greetings from the Airplane Graveyard.

We're in the middle of the Sonoran desert and the planes keep landing. A 747 from hong kong just pulled up... A 777 from Chile.... The middle of nowhere. Apparently LAX is closed for a bit. Everything in the southwest is being sent somewhere else. Feels very nine eleven. I wish it was feeling a bit more seven eleven. I'm starving and there's no food left on the plane. Want potato chips. Want you."

A direct cut-and-paste from a text message conversation that I had several nights ago as my plane dove towards a random desert airstip airport east of town... running for cover as the naton's 3rd busiest aiport unexpectedly shuts down for a few moments.

Staring at strangers from all over the world through small little windows.

What is going on?

Chicago, USA.

The businessman listens aptly, his attention focused on every word out of my mouth.

"So, these beans... you say that they're magic?"

"Yes."

"Well how do I know that?"

"Look at them. Aren't they spectacular!?"

"I mean... they're ok...."

"You know... If you're not interested, I have people lined up for these around the corner."

"No! Wait! I'm very very serious about this opportunity! Yes! Um...What am I looking for exactly?"

"Observe the shine. Look at the natural texture. Can't you just feel their power? Ignore the tangible 'bean', concentrate on the intangible magical properties."

"They're amazing. I'll take five hundred."

"I only have three left. Don't worry. We can work something out."

God bless this wonderful economic circumstance we find ourselves in.

Toronto, Canada.

There's a curious social sphere surrounding film festivals.

A distinctively public and social festive environment dedicated entirely to celebrate the remarkably private and solitary activity of watching a bright screen in a dark room.

Common folk act like celebrities so that they can sneak into the private parties, which are really public parties that have to act exclusive in order to sustain the fickle interest of the masses. Meanwhile, famous actors and movie-folk are all acting like nobodies so that they can slip around undisturbed.

Everyone's pretending to be someone else.

Then, there's the slew of subjective awards.

Awards that are handed out even though it would be physically impossible for any group of people to view and comprehend and then compare and contrast the entirely of the 300 films in 'competition' over the ten days.

It's amazing ridiculous.

The iconic imagery of the red carpet.... The metronome of flash bulbs... the piercing screams.... the shiney shiney....the lonely psychosis of superfandomania....

A microcosm of "Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!" in a world of "please...please don't look at me".

Toronto, Canada.

A social experiment.

How many birthdays can one person celebrate in a year before people catch on?

My guess. Three.

The funny thing is that people who were actually AT MY BIRTHDAY PARTY less than two months ago are still wishing me the best this morning on, this, my third birthday of the year.

Fascinating.

You see, every couple of months I've been quietly changing my birth date on Facebook. And every couple of months THE SAME PEOPLE are wishing me a happy birthday.

The messages on my wall are wonderfully 'personal'... such as "Wow! Same day as me!" (Nope.) or "I always knew you and I get along because we're both August babies" (I'm not one. And we really don't get along.)

We use birthdays as a form of identification and as a secure means of checking legal age, social qualification and astrological sign.

"What is your birthday?" is the question that is generally used to differentiate similar people with the same name who are mistakenly on the no-fly list.

It's on those forms you hand in at customs at the airport. It's how people choose their lucky lottery numbers. When timed correctly, it's good for a free piece of cake at your favorite chain restaurant.

Birthdays are probably not the most static and secure piece of personal information.

(1) Who's going to prove you wrong? There's no real way to prove what DAY someone was born on.
(2) People generally have no memory for remembering occasions for which they were not a part.
(3) People like the positive feeling and feedback that they get when they acknowledge another person regardless of whether or not the reason for the praise is valid.

It seems to be a pretty serious social taboo to mess with your date of birth.

"I know that's not really your birthday."

Come on. Do you have anything to suggest that the date which I am referring to my birthday now is any more or less valid that the date I may have told you before?

Life goes on... it just gets harder and harder to blow out all the candles on the cake.

New York City, USA

"Pardon me sir, where is the Men's Room?"

The Men's room.

A euphamism if there ever was one.

It sounds like some fancy, exclusive club.

A place to negotiate contracts and debate the minutia of some professional endeavor.

Yes, you too can be invited inside this sphere of influence and prosperity.

Chicago, USA

There are two Chicagos.

Maybe three.

They exist at completely different Cartesian coordinates.

I can't quite figure out what made the pilot change directions, but we're clearly in the other one.

I strike up conversation.

"You've changed, Jim. You're a completely different person."

Perhaps that's because he is.

He has no idea who I am or why I'm talking to him.

He's staring at me like I'm a complete stranger. Which I am.

Nice buildings. Beautiful waterfront. Passionate optimism.

New York City, USA

He seemed like such a nice man the moment I got into the car.

"Hello Sir. Where to?" he asks in his strong Indian-tinged accent.

"39th and Lex."

"Ok, right away."

And we're off. The taxi rolls into action. Shoots down through the Village like Knight Rider. The poor driver is losing his mind. Swearing like a sailor.

"Fffffffffuckkkkkkkk YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!" he leans out the window and screams at a man legally crossing the street.

"FFFFFFFFffffffffffukkkkkkkkkkk YOUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!" at the woman in the Honda alongside as he swerves to cut her off, almost tossing her and her car straight into Gramercy Park.

"FFFFFUCKKK YOUUUUU!" to the left. "FFFFFUCK YOUUUUUU!" to the right.

Rollercoaster meets Bangalore meets Tourettes.

Holding on for dear life. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. Stop.

"Thank you." His demenour instantly shifts back to calm blue ocean.

I arrive at the restaurant where my friend begins to describe for me the New York social scene.

The way I understand it, here... everyone is a proverbial cab. Everyone's vacant light goes on every once in a while. There might be good fares, and there might be those that decide to leave before paying... but in the end...the whole social interacion thing is a truly temporary experience.

There are lots of nice cabs. They'll take you anywhere, anytime... but you're likely to just get taken for a ride.

Love New York.