this is a throw-down ...
So we're at the roller derby the other night, watching our friend Toni so neatly deliver high elbows to the head, when Let Your Backbone Slide comes on over the sound system. Oh, it's your favourite song, I said to C (this is a game we play). But she didn't know what song it was, even after I named it.
You've never heard of Maestro Fresh-Wes ?
Sorry, I'm not into rap, she said.
Okay look, I said. There's like three successful Canadian rap songs -- ever -- and you're listening to one of them.
At which she shrugged.
At which point we returned to this ongoing debate we have, this peeling-brain-onion thing about who has the bigger gaps in their experience, and C talks about how few music stores there were in her childhood Kingston, and how limited the radio was, and then some head-down years she spent in Montreal, exhausted from waitressing, and listening to nothing. And then I counter with this: Saskatchewan, middle of nowhere, three hundred people. Bush parties. Majority ethnic group? Ukrainian farmers. I remember winning a Streetheart record at a dance, and thinking I was the shit. So put that in your pipe and smoke it, drugstore dancer.