FEBRUARY 2004 FEATURES
business the english

We, whose first language is English, have a severe disadvantage. Sometimes the word “disadvantage” implies money, but that’s not what I mean in this case. In fact, by having a first language that is the international language of business, we EFL (English as a first language) speakers certainly have access to more money. There’s a lot of money to be made from speaking English. I should know... it’s my job. No, by “disadvantage” I mean that we have a cultural disadvantage. Every other language in the world has much more of a culture than English. They have more secrets, which cannot be financially quantified.

Anyone in any country in the world who has an interest in making and understanding money, learns English. Even something as anti-money and anti-commercial as this Wavelength zine (say whut? — bling bling ed.), can be read and understood by all the richest people in the world. Anything you write in English, whether it is a song, a poem, a story, or non-fiction, automatically has the potential to be commodified (“commodified” is not in the Microsoft Word dictionary, but I argue that it is still English). When you write any of these things in another language, it is less likely to be looked upon as a commodity, and a lot more likely to be regarded as culture.

Everyone thinks in language. Try it right now. Try to have some thoughts without language. You can think of images, and maybe you can even try to paint them. You can think of a melody, or a rhythm and you can play and record them. It’s true that art is beyond language, and even poetry works to hint at a realm beyond language. But try to communicate any thought without art, and you will be forced to use language.

By thinking in English, we are ultimately tied to English history, a history of cultural domination and exploitation. In all the languages I know of, the word “business” comes from English, “le business” in French and “bujines” in Bengali. And “business” is used so commonly in English, printed in bold large at the top of a section of the newspaper, found in expressions like “takin’ care of business,” “the dog did his business on my lawn,” “the music business.” I don’t think any other language would say that someone is worth what they make in dollars per year.

I saw Atanarjuat, The Fast Runner, a while ago. I had to read the subtitles in English. Even when read in English, though, there were obvious differences in the way people communicate in Innu. When asked a yes or no question, one of the characters simply didn’t respond, and that meant “no”. Responses are only for the affirmative.

Another example is “toujours” in French. I remember watching the Habs play while on a French exchange in Montreal ten years ago. The announcer said, “Toujours zero, zero”. I was thinking, “huh... always zero, zero?” I then learned that it also means “still.” “Still” in English means the past and present, while “always” means past, present and future. When I learned that these were the same word in French, I made the sun-shining-through-face-of-god realization that the future doesn’t really exist for French speaking people the way it does for English speakers.

So, because we think in English, we are ultimately tied to an English way of thinking, the same way of thinking that wants to get rich and fuck up Mother Earth. Indie-rock cannot truly be independent as long as it uses the English language. You and your band should learn an obscure language and record your next album in that language.
I guess the consolation for native English speakers is the fact that we can communicate with all sorts of people who speak English now but didn’t grow up with it. Through them we can see how English is weird and we can see if it really matters; that is to say, if a certain word or idiom takes up a significant part of your brain.

Note: I sing all my songs in English.

Randy Ray is the singer/songwriter behind Wiches (see page 10) and he also works as an ESL teacher.

FEBRUARY 2004 FEATURES
rock’n’roll cooking show

Maggie MacDonald's Currytastic Tofu & Rice
You need:
1 block of soft or medium tofu
1 can of coconut milk
1 red pepper
1 green pepper
1 yellow pepper
1 small yellow onion
1 pack of curry powder
1 cup basmati rice
water
1 honey bear
pinches of salt

You've seen Maggie MacDonald, the stately, verbose chanteuse and racket-maker (formerly of the Barcelona Pavilion and currently of The Hidden Cameras; also this month’s WL cover star) tearing her hair out and cold-rocking it on stages from Sneaky Dee's to John Peel's Radio 1 studio, but have you ever seen her craft a main course so fab that all your vegan friends will be like, "The fuck? Why didn't I have this recipe two years ago?" after taking just one bite?

MacDonald flies into my kitchen at 2pm on a Monday afternoon with a block of tofu in one hand and a sackful of peppers in the other. No sooner have I loaded up the 5-disc changer with The Unicorns, Missy, and Belle & Sebastian does she brandish a wicked length of kitchen knife and begin surgically attacking the rainbow of peppers. She casually tosses a piece of red pepper into a lightly-olive-oiled hot wok (use any type of skillet/stovetop pan that can hold a good volume of food) and lets it begin to sizzle.

"I like to test the heat of the pan with a piece of the vegetable you're cooking with. It's the pepper vanguard, preparing the way for his comrades," says Maggie.

His comrades are on the way. Soldier by soldier, pieces of this peck of pretty peppers march to their steamy deaths.
The onion is next. Chopped efficiently under her watchful eye, the stinging fumes are quickly muted when the onion pieces are mixed with the sizzling peppers.

[Background music note: "Jellybones" has such a hot intro.]

Maggie settles down and puts the knife away after all the veggies are happily dancing on the stovetop together. She must feel sorry for them, as she grabs a 2/3 cup of water and carefully pours it overtop the mixture, providing some respite. Her cruel streak comes back with a vengeance, though, as she douses the soupy mixture with about a 1/2 cup of curry powder. She stirs and stirs while rearing her head back and laughing. It is majestic.

Her laughter ends as she crumbles the block of tofu into the wok and mixes it with the vegetable/curry combo. A can of coconut milk is opened and Maggie adds it, then turns the temperature on the stovetop down (to about a 3, or "simmer").

If you haven't already tricked Joey Porkncheese into preparing the rice that the curried tofu will rest upon, or if he burnt the first batch of rice so badly that his neighbour knocked on the door and asked if she should call the fire department, put 1 cup of basmati rice in a pot and add 2 cups of water. Heat the water until boiling, and then reduce heat to simmer, cover the pot, and check on it after 5 or 6 minutes and see if it's ready. If you're one of those lucky jerks who own a rice cooker, do your thing.

Maggie then busted out a Billy Bee honey bear and began sweetening the tofu mixture. Squirt until you're happy with the taste, and add a few southern pinches of salt while you're at it. The sauce should taste sweet, savoury and scrumptious. When most of the liquid has steamed off, spoon as much of the curried tofu and vegetables as you want overtop a bowl of rice.

Maggie could have served 3 or 4 people with this batch, but I selfishly ate it for both lunch and dinner on Tuesday. That's the kind of meal this is: one you won't want to share, but will end up bringing to potlucks, suspiciously eyeing guests who take too big a helping.