© theother press ¢ Culture June 2003 No cities left ican: iy The Dears Culture Critic A tall, lanky barkeeper gets me a pint and a menu. The usual grub: potato wedges, Buffalo wings, greasy burgers and onion rings. Nothing grabs me. He tells me about the special. The Dears No Cites heft “Deer burgers are on sale,” he enthusiastically mentions. “Deer? I didn’t know you could get deer around here. Is it imported?” I ask. “No. But it sounds exotic, doesn’t it?” he aks with a laugh. “The problem is that they haven't been selling, so we've got this promotion on.” I raise my eyebrows skeptically. There’s always a good rea- son things dont sell. “Hardly anyone knows how good deer meat is,” he éxplains with a shrug. Nobody knows if they don’t try it, I think to myself. Everyone loves to stick with beef. Just about everything else tastes like chicken — or that’s what everyone says. But maybe I should take a chance. I order one, plus another beer, and joke, “You can't be too careful with mad cow disease and everything.” “You don't know the half of it, son,” he says, scrawling my order on a yellow pad. As he passes it through the kitchen window, he begins his speech. “The whole beef industry is taking a beating over that scare. They love to pass the buck to the vegetarians—as if all those fake burgers are to blame— rather than to take responsibility for a lousy product. Then they try to boycott imported meats out of concern for the Lonely Lake that Kelly boy Guture Eater Looking for an ideal soundtrack for rainy mornings, long drives in the dark, or lonely nights by yourself on a balcony with nothing to keep you company but a half-empty pack of du Maurier Lights and the horrifying realization of your own mortality? Okay, so maybe that last one is just for me, but if you are looking for a real pretty bunch of songs to keep you company this summer, that Kelly boy’s debut album may be just what youre searching for. The perfectly titled Lonely Lake is a beautiful, folkish, per- sonal album that leaves the impression that Chris Kelly isn’t so much singing his songs to you as he is through you. He captures the uncertainty and loneliness felt by so many peo- ple who have outlived the hyper optimism of their early twenties and begun to realize that—for better or for worse— life isn’t necessarily going to turn out the way they had imag- ined. The disillusionment and fears that come with aging are poignantly expressed in lyrics such as “I look at others who seem to be my age and I don’ get it/‘cuz I feel like the kid I’ve Sun Again Justin Ray s s Kinnie Starr Culture Critic a z c 2 8 24 o & a 6 a 6 Vv uv Be ores oe 8 ay 8 a ous C) a Sy <8& vee 8 Be a g oe ao ee eae 5 2 3 es 53 ¢ a2 8-3 8 8 ge EYMgrtys 3 Bcc U0 } ~aPPXss. 2 E aI S58 at ee, ee ee 1: ig s os 29 Dy mS Oe Ge 3 Sal peas "sp & 33 el v AQ 6 6's & BF wy 3.96 3-3 Boece es ESEBR RES 2s 3 x Sid G ae gO > ae i, o 7 S ws ofa w Sav ovakh 9 A 4 SPegegy Peete regs s Woe eee Ss MS ee oO BS ja, Ske Page 22 e http://otherpress.douglas.bc.ca Vv S “oO 2 Bate oe x2 7) 9 & 8 og 3 w 2 & op 2 e.g 53 2% bo swe 38 af beg Fs Bop Base 6 2 60s V es 22 Gio ohm 8 ‘3 Ses Bp = 2 38 2 6 5 veueouss ¢ 8 o F & So 2893273 £68 E f€eeseeby _~ 88885 S SsEUSYY SE Q os330 ° S 0 eos 5.2 29°68 3 be SS Shoe Gf fa os oe so oe domestic industry and hike up their prices to compensate.” “And the consumers lose either way, right?” “They're getting screwed. But not if they find alternative meat sources right here in Canada. Montreal: that’s where we get the deer burgers.” He pauses, and adds firmly, “and they taste nothing like chicken.” I smile to myself as I look the menu over. Barkeep was right; everything on the menu looks like the same lousy food in every other bar. So what’s the big deal about the deer? My mouth waters in anticipation. Half an hour later, my burger arrives, open face. It resem- bles other burgers I've had, but there’s something different about this one. There are thick, black lines from the grill— perhaps the cook wanted it to give it a dirty, burnt look? I cut open the burger to see that the lines are not superficial, but extended right through the burger. How strange and unorthodox! Between each black line is a different meat texture, as if solid pieces of deer had been spliced together from different sources. Is any of it tainted? Is it overcooked? Or is it under- cooked? I don’t think so. But it doesn’t matter; the taste is delicious. Each bite releases some new taste, and the crunchy, charred lines counter the pungent sensations: they probably shouldn't be there, but they keep reminding me how good the taste is. Thanks, Barkeep; this is much, much better than beef! always been” and “We feed each other dreams that can’t come true/Maybe we all drag each other down” from “An Underachiever’s Anthem.” Another theme that is addressed on Lonely Lake is that of loss. In the powerful “To See You Again,” Kelly reduces the complicated issue of the longing that surrounds loss into the simple and touching request “to see you again/to hear your laugh/watch your grin/feel your skin.” The combination of intensely reflective lyrics, Kelly’s eloquent guitar playing, and collabo- rator Ryan Ogilvie’s lovely moody accompaniment, encour- ages listeners to experience Lonely Lake rather than simply hear it. From the bittersweet nostalgia of “Kristofferson” to the engaging cover of Tom McLean’s Nick Drake-flavoured “There You Were” to the hushed beauty of “Tuesday,” Lonely Lake provides listeners with a subtle and atmospheric album befitting of its title. For more information visit .