This recording is a performance at the weekly open stage at the Ram In The Rye in the Oakham House at 63 Gould St. in Ryerson University on the very cold winter evening of Tuesday, February 9th, 1999 (captured on tape #92). Brennan Gault is on bass and Vava Kolinski is playing the bass drum and a shovel (with a mallet). Tom Glenne, at one point early in the song or maybe at the beginning, is helping to keep the creeping bass drum in place by absorbing the force of the kinetic energy of the beats into his inert body mass. You can hear Vanessa John laughing early on in the background. I don't think anyone there - not Brennan, Vava, Tom, Vanessa, the host, the other open stage performers (Vanessa was next, then Tom), and definitely not the audience and patrons trying to carry on conversations and otherwise enjoy their evening - had any idea they were going to have to wait almost 12 minutes for their next moment of respite as the song, once started, had to play itself out to its conclusion. I can even hear the moment when I had to turn the page in my lyric book with my left hand while continuing to strum the guitar with my right (it's the A9sus4/E chord at the end of verse 12, bar 208, minute 7:30). Somewhere earlier in the song you can hear someone playing along on another harmonica (apart from mine) but he gives up well before the halfway point. At the end of the performance there is an audible sigh of collective relief captured on tape. I maintain that I was just as relieved as everyone else, but I also remember that I barely made it out of the bar that evening without resorting to contriteness.
Looking back, I can see how I broke both of the the rules of show business at once with this performance - 1) know your audience, and 2) always leave them wanting more. But in my defence, if I then was not willing to sacrifice myself and my friends in such a boldly selfish and utterly inconsiderate way for the sake of musical expression, we wouldn't all be where we are today.
If, based on the above, you would prefer to spare yourself the stress of listening to this track but would like to know what it's all about, Roomie is about the incongruities of perspective that might occur from time to time in a grossly incompatible roommate situation which is perhaps necessitated by the skyrocketing rent increases which are the immediate consequence of the exploding real estate market driven by homeowners and speculators taking advantage of artificially low interest rates to purchase investment properties while the rest of the city is bought up by condo developers and multinationals who influence policy at all levels of government to create loopholes to make it easier to evict longterm tenants and replace rent-controlled apartments with "market-priced" short-term rental units which will largely remain empty while the dream of affordable housing becomes evermore a fantasy as shelters fill to over-capacity and underfunded social services collapse under the pressure and callousness of neo-liberalism, free market economy, and late-stage capitalism, thereby creating the reality in which it is a vanishingly rare and great privilege, given such conditions, to be able live alone in peace and quiet.
And you can forget about trying to survive as an artist. Screw that.
lyrics
(Here it goes... )
(17 II 98)
My roomie doesn't want me sitting here
He doesn't like me drinking all his beer
He doesn't like me sitting in his chair
He doesn't like me picking at my hair
My roomie says I leave a greasy knob
He says that I should get myself a job
And even though I didn't burn the kettle
He says it's up to me to clean the metal
My roomie doesn't like me in his room
He says he always has to wash my spoons
It's my job to take out the trash, but now it's too late
He always says I never pull my weight
My roomie hates it when I eat his grub
He says I always foul up the tub
I smoke and drink and haven't got a cent
He says I'm inconsistent with the rent
My roomie doesn't like my girlfriend, Nora
He says she always has a sour aura
He hates it when I take his lava lamp
He says I always leave the bathroom damp
My roomie doesn't like my musical bowels
He hates it when I foul up his towels
He doesn't like me picking at my lice
He hates it that his mother thinks I'm "nice"
My roomie doesn't like me when I'm drunk
He says he once had to pull me out of a trunk
He doesn't like me bringing home my friends
He accuses them for [sic] scratching up his Benz
My roomie hates the records that I play
Ringo Starr and Billie Holiday
He hates the noise and say's the walls are thin
He hates it when the neighbours think it's him
My roomie hates to find me in his bed
When I wake up his face is always red
He's embarrassed when his parents come to town
He hates it when they see me in his gown
My roomie hates to witness his parents' blindness
He says I take advantage of their kindness
He hates it when I ask about his dates
He hates it when I ask how much he makes
My roomie doesn't like to see me naked
He always says that to me, nothing is sacred
He hates me and my People magazines
He doesn't want me frying up his beans
My roomie always beats me at Monopoly
He says it's 'cause I play the game so sloppily
He hates it that I once got him convicted
He says we're lucky we don't get evicted
My roomie says he hates my psychobabble
He says he's bored at beating me at Scrabble
(19 II 98)
He hates it when I watch his television
In fact, his words are nothing but derision
My roomie is allergic to my pharots [sic] [I couldn't spell ferrets]
He says my cats are beating up his parrot
He says I never change the kitty litter
He always says my attitude is bitter
My roomie hates it when I take his keys
He yells at me for never asking please
He's confounded that my outlook is so placid
He even hates it when I drop his acid
My roomie hates it when I steal his pills
He hates it when he has to pay my bills
He doesn't like me burning up his candles
He doesn't like me chewing on his sandals
[page turn]
My roomie hates it when I interrupt
He says I try to make his friends corrupt
He hates my girlfriend bumming 'round the residence
He hates it when I try to hide the evidence
My roomie hates it that I never shower
He hates it when I leave the milk to sour
He hates it that I never blow my nose
He's disgusted when I wear my pantyhose
My roomie thinks I'm living in a quandary
He hates to have to separate our laundry
He hates it when I try to make him pasta
He hates it when I try to call him "Masta"
My roomie hates it when I stuff the toilet
He hates it that I always overboil it
He hates it when I eat his peanut butter
He hates me every time I try to stutter
My roomie's irritated by my farts
He doesn't like me poking at his art
He hates it every time I paint the ceiling
He says I never care about his feelings
My roomie doesn't like me making coffee
He hates it when I stick around his toffee
He doesn't like me lighting all his matches
Whatever cold I get, he always catches
My roomie doesn't want to see my boogers
He hates it when I address his mother as "sugar"
He hates it when I call his father "pappy"
He hates it that his parents look so happy
My roomie hates me evening, noon and morning
My roomie hates me even when I'm snoring
He hates it that it makes him feel so gloomy
And that is when he is not a very good roomie
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