Many people will probably dislike it because of that.. . .but the story goes like this: In the year or so leading up to this writing, I was trying desperately hard to pin down the reason I kept thinking positively about living in the city despite the parts of city life that clearly sucked. They're in the book, and they're hard to miss. I kept bouncing concepts off of things and seeing what they came back as, sort of a cognitive sonar.
I wandered about the city watching what was happening on as many levels as I could, through the many districts and as many walks of life as I was capable of seeing from a worldview that I knew was limited by my upbringing. There were yuppies, junkies, preachers, businessmen, politicians, students, artists, musicians. . .
Lots of people who at times seemed like entirely different species and all too often didn't get along. They all had something in common, though. It's inevitably a cliche, because they wouldn't be cliches if they weren't true (with the possible exception of: ‘what you don't know can't hurt you'), and I try (and fail) not to touch cliches with a ten foot pole. This one, however, inspired me to write a story. Around this time, my band, Kidicarus, were doing pretty well, just out of nowhere. We'd started playing fairly appreciable music, and people were liking it.
We found a band in Vancouver though, who had our name (and a Nintendo game that had the name too. . . though we stole it from them) and so soon we decided to change our name.
So we took the name of the band in the story. The story was about the people and things that slip through the cracks. There are a lot of them, and for the most part they live extremely fulfilled lives despite the fact that no-one knows they're around. It tried to study the changes that come from a reality that caters to what the viewer wants to see— a girl disappears from existence without a trace, her ex-boyfriend is going mad for a reason he's having trouble pinning down. The elements of the plot are sometimes disparate, the changes in tone are at times extreme, but unifying the narrative is a single concept I chose to define as ‘divinity.' (Not exclusively in the Christian sense) It's sort of a harmony that keeps things more or less balanced (yeah, I know, you've heard that before.
. . but sometimes cheese is important, we have to have a healthy dose of it now and then). Something happens, and elsewhere something intricately linked to it bangs into something else.
So Mike Tyley is ruled by a controlled burst of that. There it is. Divinity Burst. A simple slip of the tongue becomes a subject of debate. Not really widespread debate.
. . but nonetheless, some people think it's a blatantly sexual reference (Though to a limited extent it's that as well. To some degree it's a metaphor for orgasm, the reason being that in my opinion sexuality and divinity have been separate concepts for far too long), some think it's a homosexual reference, the logo of what's apparently a big penis somehow offends them. Guess what.
That's the point. If it doesn't make you think, what good is it? Why do you do it if it doesn't turn your crank? If a person is into self-denial, they can fully justify avoiding an idea that they see as somehow repugnant. I can't say that db is a completely nonoffensive idea because it isn't. One thing it certainly isn't though, is poorly thought out.
It's intended to invoke a reaction. It's like something you're used to seeing marginalized suddenly coming into full view as something you were sure it wasn't. Above all it's a story. Whether it's a band, an album or a real life situation, a book I'm half finished or the short story that started it, it's something that reading this, you're going to have an opinion about. You might dislike it. You may think I'm a pompous, arrogant, dubiously talented egoist who's stuck on a cliche.
You might think I'm just trying to get a rise out of people for my own sake. Or to the contrary, you might realise that in its simplest terms all it boils down to is this: Four guys from Ottawa with comparatively little experience went into Little Bullhorn Productions, a small studio on Spruce street with $250 to make a little bit of music because they wanted to have fun. Then they thought other people would like to hear it. Most of the people who heard it liked it, so they made more.
The production quality isn't the greatest, the scope may not even be as vast as they would like to think, but they have been enjoying themselves since then, and the people who have come along with them have had a lot of fun too. - Wil Richardson. Read more on Last.fm. User-contributed text is available under the Creative Commons By-SA License; additional terms may apply..