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15/12/2024

Chroniques à Bobcat du Dimanche #36 ‘’Like no one’s business’’

So I’ve ‘’discovered’’ a young guitarist whose name is Grace Bowers. I think she’s not even 20 yet and rips the guitar like no one’s business. She plays a Gibson SG which was my dream guitar as a young man. Mine got stolen years ago, but that's a story for another time.

She also plays the kind of music I played when I was her age. Seeing and hearing a young player like that made me ponder upon the long lost times of my youth.

I recall that age, late teenage years, from 18 to 22. So filled with energy yet so drenched in despair and shame. I used to believe myself to be so unfit and unworthy that it all turned to self hatred over time.

I remember letting my dreams slip away and opportunities whiter in the winds of past regrets. I recall drinking away the shame until I felt no further.
I remember thinking of ending it all.

On the thone of wisdom and experience on which I now stand (yes, I stand both feet on a throne because ‘’f**k the rules of conduct’’), I find it tragic yet kinda funny.

Funny how one can lack proper perspective and choose to create a life that one deems unworthy of living. With age, I’ve learned to grow in empowerment and responsibilities. To choose forward momentum towards a well lived life. To share the joy, to ask for guidance, to choose wisely and act, to own up my mistakes and move on but most of all,
to not take myself so seriously.

Through the lens of maturity I see the truth. The smoke and mirrors of my youth and how such simple misunderstandings as of how life communicates and how the mind operates can lead one astray from their ‘’true self’’.

I’m a pretty happy man now.
More and more everyday.
I’m grateful to be alive and thriving in this ocean of constant change.

On the rare occasions on which I recall the darkest days of my youth, it sends chills up and down my spine. In the words of a Stevie Ray Vaughn song: ‘’There was love all around me but I was looking for revenge. Thank God it never found me, it would’ve been the end’’.

So anyways, I’m here at the bright young age of 32. Still playing the guitar like no one’s business. I’ve expanded my creativity’s output to include other mediums. I’m more passionate than ever and boy is there a lot to be excited about!!

This past year, I’ve gotten into photography, writing, festival making and made more than 10 albums. And I ain’t about to stop creating.

We all need a friend sometimes so if you ever find yourself into a ‘’goddamn s**t what the f**k’’ place for too long and need a hand, hit me up. I can share some of the Joy and partake in a conversation.

If you ever need someone who rips the guitar like no one’s business,
you know where to find me!
I’m on time, I play like a madman who listens intently and I possess a grandiose mustache.
Oh! and I have a great sense of humor!

So long friends!
Enjoy what you do have.
Let go of the cumbersome misery.
It’s in your power to do so.
None of us is ever truly alone. We’re all in this together.

Chroniques à Bobcat du Dimanche  #35 ‘’As a ferocious beast’’At the edge of thunderous applause, there’s a band. A band ...
08/12/2024

Chroniques à Bobcat du Dimanche #35 ‘’As a ferocious beast’’

At the edge of thunderous applause, there’s a band. A band of friends getting it on,
groovin’ hard and intricate. It’s mesmerizing to be part of the experience.

The moment you hear a truly talented and virtuoso musical project, exploding the limits of what can be, flying straight into the realms of dreams, textures and dynamics, there’s no going back.

This city is filled with such artists. I’ve gotten acquainted with many of them over the last decade. To my grandest gratitude I get to call many of them ‘’friends’’.

As the Charles Viguerie Trio ends its set, I’m electrified.
The music drenched me to the bones, I can’t hold it in.

Photography got me in the place. A few pictures in exchange for a good show. Fair deal.
Photography is an art form I find most fluid to do when the music hits hard and tight with an overflow of passion, skills and talent.

Post concert, as I feverishly scribble on my notepad, it occurs to me: how to make art, how to put on a truly great show and how to live Life.
There’s a thread to be pulled here and I ain’t about to let it go.

Akin to a rock n roll guitar, cranking the amp way up, trying to direct the torrent, as if holding a wild ferocious beast on a leash, making art and living life is quite similar.

Crank the juice all the way up to the edge, let it roar and channel it as best you can.
Pull the rubber band until you can no more
Let it loose and enjoy the ride.
Laugh and learn

It’s better to live with furious involvement and attention than dragging along, staring at your feet. That’s too much of a lame purgatory state to call home.

Art is the same.
Give it all you got till you can no further
Don’t be tame
The torrent we call ‘’Life’’ that lives through us deserves our ‘’all’’

Who knows?
We may have only one shot at this.

Bobcat y'écris pas juste des chroniques le DimancheY joue aussi avec les plusses meilleurs musiciens-ennes à Montréal!Fu...
05/12/2024

Bobcat y'écris pas juste des chroniques le Dimanche
Y joue aussi avec les plusses meilleurs musiciens-ennes à Montréal!

Full Gratitude!

Another fully improvised project by Sober is SexyNo plans, No rehearsals, No Bulls**t.00:00:00 Lost in the Tabernacle00:10:15 knees deep in quicksand00:1...

01/12/2024

Chroniques à Bobcat du Dimanche #34 ‘’My Funk recipe’’

Ok, let’s keep it short, let’s keep it real.

What’s my recipe for funk music?

First off, Rhythm. It’s gotta be tight.
Whether you play or don’t play, that rhythm’s gotta stay.
Ever present and groovy.

Secondo, it must come from the heart.
Play what you mean and mean what you play.
Play as if your life depends on it.

Finally, you gotta pour a whole lot of gasoline on it and light it on fire!
Now, what do I mean by ‘’gasoline’’?

Ok, here it is.
You’re human, right?
Having a human experience?
Yes?

Ever been h***y?
Like, REAL h***y?
When the energy rises up from your private parts right up to your head, your whole body starts tingling and if you’re not grounded you can’t think straight?

Yeah. REAL h***y.
That’s your gasoline.
Unleash that stuff into what you play. Hold nothing back.

But remember, you have to connect with your fellow musicians.
You gotta let the audience partake in the experience also, you have to leave space for them.
Can’t go all the way off the rails.

For that, you have to stay grounded.

Now, how do you stay grounded?

Keep it simple
Keep it real
Keep it hot and stay funky!

24/11/2024

Chroniques à Bobcat du Dimanche #33
‘’Of horses, barstools and skinny asses’’

Waiting around for the show to start, my ass firmly rooted on the stool of the bar. Fascinated by people’s conversation’s and seeming ease by which they embroider the tapestry of the social playground.

Some guy hits on the barmaid, clearly she’s not refusing to play. Gently, organically, back and forths of glances, movements and words are traded. And so the dance begins!

Somehow, I’ve always felt more in my element a little away from social niceties and small talk. Nonetheless, I’ve grown into the realization that these social games play an important role in the grand scheme of a society. Akin to a dog sniffing’ another dog’s behind, we too, humans, get acquainted in similar fashion.

Over time, I pondered about my unease in the face of social norms and coded interactions. I wrongly came to the conclusion that this aspect of life is vain and tedious.

All in all, I was trying to paint myself in the best of lights only.
Fooling myself to be alone, to be separate and having something to prove. Mesmerized by my own puny story, unable to expand the horizon of my care and attention.

Have you ever gotten there?
That moment when you realize how petty your psyche has been and how much you’ve missed the grandiose beauty offered by a life unshackled by narrow mindedness.

Not to brag, but, happened to me quite a lot.
And that my friend deserves a medal !!!
I’m special that way.

I’m kidding. Don’t give me a medal, I’m just a du***ss.

Now, back to our horses.

Did you know that horses can throttle up to a hundred miles before having to stop for food and water?

No?

I’m making this up. Just making conversation.

Hi, my name is Simon.
I find your eyes mesmerizing,
would you care in the sharing of a conversation with me?

And that my friends is my humble attempt at small talk!

As I proudly occupy the barstool with my skinny ass, all this conversation happened between me and a piece of paper. I’m nowhere nearer saying hello to a stranger.
Even less a beautiful woman for whom I feel attraction for.

Oh well…
Live and learn, my friends. Live and learn!

17/11/2024

Chroniques à Bobcat du Dimanche #32 ‘’A storm in a Teacup’’

Change is the only constant. Yesterday, I was miserable.
Today, I’m great. Some time ago I was at the height of creativity. Today I'm in the dumps.

Commitments falter, friendship ends, families die. We let ourselves down and pick up the pieces afterward. None of us stays ‘’king of the mountain’’ indefinitely.

Life breaks even the strongest. It nourishes the faintest most reclusive organisms also. We all get moments in the sun’s glorious rays, then, dusk settles and we go to sleep (or party all night, depending on your inclination)

As I sit here in the warm November sun, ruffled by the last few weeks of confusion and despair, I know: Change is the only constant.

What used to get me to drink, then got me consuming endless entertainment finally got me meditating. In the throes of chaotic currents, after years of wayward exploration, one of the best things I’ve found is just breathing deep, sitting still.

Don’t get me wrong, it ain’t always easy, especially at times when I’d rather rip my face off and burn all my possessions (figuratively… most times at least)

Inevitably, for me, there comes a time when I tire of fighting the current, I give up and let it pass through.
Nothing special usually happens: I’m still here. Still alive.
Life keeps going.

All the fusslin’ and bustlin’ was just a storm in a teacup.
Forever was, forever shall be.

I find it quite humbling to inhabit a sea of constant change.
Whether I like it or don’t like it, I die and reborn a little everyday.
Life melts even the most concrete blocks and keeps on flowing right on down its course, endlessly.

Who knows?
One day I may shave off my mustache and join a monastery?
Maybe I’ll actually have a sustainable career in music?
Maybe I’ll bum around the world aimlessly, enjoying the view.
Who knows?

At this point, I’m ready for inputs.
What do you think?

D'la musique de mon prochaine album ''Peaceful and Dandy''''On the Shortness of Life''
11/11/2024

D'la musique de mon prochaine album ''Peaceful and Dandy''
''On the Shortness of Life''

Bobcat Gélatin on the guitar''On the shortness of Life''

03/11/2024

Chroniques à Bobcat du Dimanche #31
‘’The treadmill and the Monkey’’

Between the rhythms of digesting and expressing, there lies a requirement of time and space. À zone where silence, sounder and boredom can meet.

I don’t know for you but as my experience goes, in our present technological world,, these moments get increasingly few and far between.

There’s content 24/7
The phone is ringing (yours, not mine)
We’ve got at least 10 conversations at the same time on different apps.
There’s a feed to scroll downward to the doom of our capacity for attention.
We get distracted.

We become anxious but can’t quite find the source any more.
There’s 32 tabs open, music is playing but you can’t find where it’s coming from.

We fall prey to algorithms and attention grabbing videos.
We trade it for the only currency we possess: Our time and attention.

Unbeknownst to us, we rewire our brains to be distracted, aloof and hope medication will cure it all in the end. We bury our heads in the sands of content in a futile attempt to get through just another day. We try to make sense of our plastic world, one piece of information at a time.

More information needs more time to be digested or else it becomes useless garbage hanging around, taking up space in our mind.

The world we live in is no fairy tale.
There’s suffering all over.
It’s a challenging current to swim in.
It’s not for the faint hearted

Some of us break
Some of us flee
Some of us make art
Some of us disengage and desensitize

What we need is time. Time to digest. Time to come back to the roots.
What we need is space. Space to relax. Space for intuition to come back. Space to be Life, not some gear in a machine.

I offer no solution.
There’s rent to pay
Deals to make
Stuff to buy
A Lifestyle to maintain
The treadmill won’t stop for you or me.
There’s a leash around our necks. It’s getting tighter by the day.

I offer no solution but this Zen koan:

A Monkey is flabbergasted by the sight of a full moon. He wants his friend to partake in the experience, stretches out his hand and points towards the moon. The other monkey looks at the finger only and misses the grandiose beauty of the full moon entirely. The end.

Now, what does that mean?
Pardon my expression but F**k me if I know!

Please, close that screen.
Go outside.
Give a stranger your most beautiful smile.
We’re all in this together.
It’s sunday, enjoy it and make it yours!

Petit album entre ami-es!Aweye, écoute!
30/10/2024

Petit album entre ami-es!
Aweye, écoute!

Belle Grande FamilleUne exploration musicale de Sober is Sexy.100% improviséJerome Pépin - DrumSaulo Olmedo Evans - TablasAriana M Nasr - SaxophoneSimon Gren...

20/10/2024

Chroniques à Bobcat du Dimanche #30 ‘’Oiseau rare du Centre Sud’’

Le temps s’échappe au gré du vent tel une feuille rougeâtre d’automne qui, bientôt, ne sera que souvenir. Hier disparaît si vite que j’en ai à peine à penser demain.

Un autre matin où je me réveille seul, où ma compagne est un appartement vide et silencieux. Je m’expose au soleil incandescent d’octobre, perché sur le balcon tel un oiseau moustachu maigrement habillé: un spécimen rare!

Une tristesse me rend visite et m'interroge tendrement.
Qu'est-ce que tu veux vraiment, en fait, Simon?

La question ne m’est pas étrangère.

J’ai souvenir du temps jadis que cette interrogation me désemparaît, incapable d’y répondre. Abasourdis par l’immensité de l’évidence; comment savoir ce que je veux si je n'ai aucune espèce d’idée de qui je suis?

Pris au fort avec cette violence dans laquelle la société nous rejette dès notre plus jeune âge: On nous vole notre souveraineté de choisir, nous bourre le crâne d’informations, on nous force à s’asseoir pendant plus de 15 ans et ensuite on nous demande ce que l’on veut, ce qu’on veut devenir.

Non mais quelle ignorance que de détruire la vie, de l'assujettir à des intérêts illusoires et de se surprendre de toute la misère qui peuple le monde!

Heureusement je m’en suis sortie.
Mais pas indemne.
Pas sans grande souffrances à parcourir
Pas sans grand ménage à faire
Je suspecte qu’il y’en reste encore beaucoup à accomplir
Personne ne s’en sort immaculé.

Bref, je m’éparse, vous m’excuserez.

Qu'est ce que je veux vraiment, en fait?

À la lumière d’un matin d’octobre comme celui-ci,
j’aimerais bien une compagne avec qui rire, un café à la main, tout simplement.
Une compagne autre que mon appartement vide et ma solitude ordinaire de tous les jours.

Mais bon, pour l’instant, je suis en vie, perché sur mon balcon, à écrire.
On fait avec ce qu’on a. Demain, on verra!

Un autre jour s’active, une autre saison laisse place à la prochaine. Une autre page se remplit d’encre. Un autre moustachu se fait apercevoir au loin sur le balcon d’un 3e étage à Centre-Sud, maigrement habillé, se grillant au soleil matinale d’octobre.

Chaque instant est à chérir.
Le temps d’une accolade et c’est finis.
Tout au plus échanger quelques blagues et l’on devient vague souvenir d’autrui.

On fait avec ce qu’on a dans l’instant.
Demain n’est jamais garanti.
Demain, qui sait si on sera encore là?

13/10/2024

Chroniques à Bobcat du Dimanche #29 ‘’As a child would’’

The rumble of children playing in the main hall accompanies the quiet sounder upon my existence. I find that any ‘’spiritual’’ pursuit cannot (should not) be disconnected from the life we live, here and now. I recall, years ago when I’d try to make the environment fit my desires of purity, to ease my way through, from the outside in.

AH! What a foolish way of going about it! What a mess it made.

Years later, I see it clearly: It was not easy but real simple;
I just had to accept how ungrounded I was and start from that.

There’s no shame in being ungrounded, it’s part of the journey.

Back then, I tried with all my might to change the environment instead of myself.
I guess there’s no escape from being young and foolish. Somehow it can be too easy to let go of discernment and proselytize the false as the one and only truth.

Over time, experience sets in, we stumble, we roar upwards and we go on about our days with all its ups and downs. If we pay attention, humility is bound to show her face.

The children keep screaming, laughing and running around. Michael runs over to me and starts drawing ghosts on the piece of paper on which I’m writing.
Ondine is throwing Marie on the couch, both are screaming in Joy.

That’s the way it is right now.

Amidst all this playing, it dawns on me. How much I’ve become serious and stern, taking my projects as an almighty important task to finish.
I forgot to play. I took it all too seriously.

Where have I caged that ‘’child’’ part of me? When the hell did I stop playing?
At what fu***ng point did I comform to the level of not being able to roll around laughing, unserious and playful as a child would?

At what point did I trade joyfull doings for stern discipline?
When did I exchange laughing hysterically for poised seriousness?

Anyways…

Let’s not stray too far from it all and try to remember:
There’s learning in everything. Humility teaches that.

This morning, It’s about time for me to re-learn the art and joy of rolling around in the grass, as a child would.

What are YOU up to today?

06/10/2024

Chroniques à Bobcat du Dimanche #28 ''The Dance of seasons''

Looking at the edge of autumn,
my mind is free
My heart is filled
The sun is strong but fading.

On a day like this, I find great joy in roaming around, soaking in the ambiance exuded by a change of season. The heat recedes in the back, giving space to cold.
In the early october, both are dancing hand to hand.

Over the years, I’ve gotten better at letting go of the fury of summer.
I used to stay in that energy till I burned out, late november.

The city never sleeps. Never slows down.
But Nature does.
It’s so easy to follow artificial rhythms and fool ourselves.

This whole system is out of balance with the natural ways of life.
‘’Time is money’’ as they say….
Gotta keep running after it then!

Ask any aging rich person, I guarantee he would trade all his wealth for more time.
Who wouldn’t?

Maybe one who makes full use of it, grows beyond his limitations and bites passionately into life wouldn't want any more time. Having used all of it to the brink of his capabilities would not blink at the fact of death.

Just as seasons come to change and pass, our lives blossom and whiter.
Back to the dust bin.
Back to silence
Back to emptiness

From the fiery passions of life to the cold tranquility of death.
From summer to autumn, the dance of seasons rages on!

29/09/2024

Chroniques à Bobcat du dimanche # 27 ‘’FRIENDS!’’

From one friend to the other, helping each other out, celebrating our milestones; furthering the depth of kinship. Through stories told and lived, we get to grow with each other, sailing the waves of time and space.

Finding ourselves in the same place we’ve been years before. At this moment, none of us can find our old personae. Constant change is the only unchangeable companion.

I am a lucky enough human being that I’m not able to give an accurate count of my friends:
I simply have ‘’too much’’

I’ve always had friendships easily. Somehow I’ve considered most to be friends from the start. I find this way of living smoother.

I mean, we’re all made from the same stuff. We’re all here for a time limit.
The roots of life have no bounds, encompassing all.
No judgements, pure inclusivity.
There is space for all to blossom.

Why not be friends? Don’t we all want a more connected, happy, passionate and compassionate world?

Maybe I assume too much, but maybe, just maybe, I’m goddamn right and treating a dirty homeless bum with the same respect as I would give my own mother is actually the ‘’right’’ thing to do.

At a certain point, maturity has to set in. The love we feel for our spouses was always meant to grow and expand limitlessly. Not to be caged within the limited confines of identity.

Sure, the stories we share will differ.
I doubt I’ll go ice skating with the homeless bum from across the street, but I’ll be damned if by the end of this journey I won’t be wise enough to see the truth: We are life expressing itself through a myriad of costumes.

From one leap to the next, as I look around, I cannot help but see: FRIENDS.
We are not alone.
Never was.
Never shall be.
Separateness is an illusion.
We’re all friends here.

Life expressing itself through a myriad of costumes
Furthering the depth of kinship.

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