THE WAY I SEE IT
February 2005

'œIt's not you, it's me.'?

'œI need my space.'?

'œI'm sorry, I can't do it'¦ don't hate me.'?

Just as there's no non-lame way to break up with somebody, there is no way to explain my imminent departure from Wavelength 'œas we know it'? without feeling a little yucky. But it feels like the right thing to do.

First of all, I should clarify: I'm not leaving for good'¦ I'm not really leaving at all. But, I'm stepping down from my duties as main booker of the series and editor of the zine, which I've held onto, despite numerous offers of assistance, for five years now. You can call it a break, or a vacation, or even a retirement if you want '“ but there is a better word for it, though I should warn you, you might find it dreadfully pretentious.

Five years is a long time. That's longer than any band or relationship I've ever been in. I think there was something about the large, round, half-decade-ness of that number that made something in me snap late last year. I was looking at the WL booking sked, and the fifth anniversary was looming as one big question mark, the following weeks an empty, un-pencilled-in void'¦ and I said to myself, unaware of my own evocation of break-up clichés, 'œI can't do it. I can't start another year of this.'?

So that was it: then I knew. I'd made my decision. That's when Wavelength should stop. Yes, I was ready to kill it off. And I remember feeling pretty sure of myself that day: that it should end before it gets lame, before it becomes a self-parody, that we should go out with a bang.

And then I came around.

Let me back up here, as you may be wondering, what's so bad about all this? Nothing, really'¦ but fuck, was I tired. We've created an incredibly unforgiving and relentless schedule for ourselves. Putting on a show every week (well, 50 out of 52 weeks a year) and publishing a zine every month takes a lot out of you '“ especially when you're part of an all-volunteer staff. It was that there printed matter that was really killing me, too '“ layout and production time was destroying one good weekend out of every month, while the cost of printing bills '“ a steep $1200 a month '” was becomingly increasingly difficult to keep up with, when it should have been getting easier.

So, as with anything, overfamiliarity and needless repetition had turned a labour of love into a bore and a chore. Time to get out, or at least step back. I had come to the realization that my life was bigger than Wavelength, and there were a lot of other things I wanted to do with it, and that my WL duties were holding me back, leaving me, to use Carl Wilson's word, 'œclockrupt.'?

But the flipside, equivalent realization came as more of an epiphany: I realized that Wavelength was bigger than me. I couldn't stop it if I wanted. And one bright, crisp day at the beginning of January, I knew that I didn't want it to stop, even if I wanted to stop'¦ that I wanted to see it continue '“ in some form, at least. As I walked toward my afternoon job at The Music Gallery, following this thought process, I ran into my friend, the Rev. Max Woolaver. I told him what I was thinking of doing, and he told me, 'œyou're taking a sabbatical.'? And then it all made sense.

We have real community here with Wavelength, and it would be foolish to throw that away. Sure, there's a lot of lip service given to that word, but I really believe in it. And in the process of handing over the reins (or the ring?) of power, I want to see Wavelength move toward something more collectively organized, more in the spirit of how we originally envisioned it back in '99. I had been shouldering too much of the burden, and hoarding too much of the credit while I was at it.

My words will have an echo to them if you read the thread on 20hz about this being the last print issue of Wavelength '“ for the foreseeable future. Yes, it's true, and if you're wondering 'œwhy?,'? money is just one factor: time, organization and responsibility are the main culprints. Oh yeah, and me, I guess '“ we need time for a smooth transition of duties, and I keep saying 'œwe'? because I plan on staying involved with Wavelength as part of some still-nascent advisory group that will help the bookers and editors do their jobs. Who's booking the series, you ask? We are looking for interested and able-bodied parties to do three-month tours of duty, and the first block (beginning in April) has already been filled: by Wavelength's new managing editor, Ryan McLaren.

And, unlike the last time we took a zine hiatus, in 2003, the zine will still be posted online. I've always felt like our website (www.wavelengthtoronto.com) has been the neglected middle child of the music-series-and-zine family. Sure, print has a tangible 'œaura'? which reading online can't duplicate '“ yet. But there's something about the instantaneous, interactivity of the web that's more in line with what Wavelength has grown into over the last five years. We set out with specific goals '“ to create excitement in the Toronto music community, to create more opportunities for our own bands, to document a culture we feared was in danger of being forgotten '“ and I feel that most of that has been accomplished, which is partly why I feel comfortable stepping down as Wavelength 'œboss.'? But WL still fulfills a need, and that has evolved into something different, maybe more intangible '“ or maybe just as simple as giving people something to do on Sundays.

Part of the reason I decided I couldn't just kill it, is I didn't know what I would do on Sunday nights.

BY JONNY DOVERCOURT