Even within a public education system designed to fit an image of Canada as a compassionate meritocracy, there is a significant amount of inequality. A school in a wealthier neighborhood has the school council dollars to raise funds for new science equipment, field trips and extracurricular activities while schools in poorer neighborhoods make do with 40 year-old textbooks. Outside of the school walls, this inequality grows exponentially. While one set of children are shuttled between hockey practice, private violin or piano lessons and dance class, their less well-to-do counterparts mind their siblings while their parents work double shifts or take to the streets looking for something to do (and statistics indicate that this “something to do” usually isn’t positive).

In this environment the importance of music education delivered in schools can not be underestimated. Music, even more than sport, is one of the very last spaces in which children have the opportunity to exist as equals. While school bands can cost more than even the most elaborate of sports programs, a basic music program such as a choir or a dance team can be run at next to no cost aside from the time of teacher and/or community volunteers.

From feel-good news stories about Staten Island’s P.S. 22′s choir program to BBC’s popular television series that bring popular choirmaster Gareth Malone into contact with a range of youth, the global transformational power of music, of something as simple as singing together, can not be denied. Even the unlikeliest groups of youngsters – the most apathetic, alienated and untalented – not only willingly commit to these programs, but together perform pieces of music in places that only months before had existed beyond the realm of possibility.

Music education is not about turning every child into a professional musician. What it is about is showing young people that they are capable of accomplishing something great. It is about giving these children the opportunity to prove all those who had believed them incapable of amounting to anything wrong. Music education shows young people that if they are willing to put the work in, that they can do anything. For children who may not have a supportive home life, a successful performance might be first time they know that someone is proud of them or that anyone believes in them. Music education programs allow young people to prove to their families and their communities that not only are they good at something, but they are also good for something. This leads to a train of self-reinforcing positive stereotypes – “If I am good at singing and didn’t think I could be, maybe I can be good at mathematics too (or reading, or science, or running a business – anything really)”.

What is remarkable about these music programs is the way in which they boost the morale of all participants, not only the stars. However those who excel do receive an extra boost from knowing that they are great at something, exceptional even, a boost that can give them a direction and a focus for their future because, despite the latest sales figures, there are still careers to be made in this industry.

It is unfortunate that it is this last bastion of relative equality that is one of the first things to go when budgets are tightened, despite potentially low costs incurred to run them. There are a number of excuses made for not keeping or trying to build music programs – the inability to afford existing “artist in the classroom programs” (even where those are run as non-profits), teachers already being stretched too thin trying to teach multiplication tables to fourth graders who come to school having not eaten breakfast (or lunch) or the concern that bringing in music would distract children from the fundamentals.

For those of us who are musicians or who centre our lives around music in other ways, we know how flawed these arguments are. We know that music reinforces the fundamentals – reading sheet music requires literacy and numeracy. We understand the power of music to keep us focused and to help us push past all of the negative distractions that threaten to envelop us – fear, insecurity and even hunger. We know that music speaks to something within all of us that we cannot ignore, with payoffs more than worth all of the time and effort put in. We know these things and still we are not up in arms about the lack of support for music education? I can’t help but wonder why we are not doing everything we can to ensure that today’s children are able feel the same sense of pride and self-worth that we receive when playing music, dancing or otherwise putting on a show.

Is it because we expect the government to fix it? Especially for today’s independent musicians who have been bred with the D-I-Y (do-it-yourself) ethic, we should know better than to expect the government to fight any of our battles. If we want to save music education, to a certain extent we have to save it ourselves.

To be continued…

Videos to hold you until the next installment

From the BBC series The Choir with Gareth Malone.

From Gene Simmons’ Rock School.

From P.S. 22′s blog.

Anyways, I was on the bus on the way home from the office yesterday afternoon, about 4:30pm. I have to sit near the front because of the whole snowstorm + walker thing that me and Ottawa have had going on this week which is always usually an exciting experience on the route that my local bus takes (it goes past what seems to be every bar in town). At a very popular stop, an elderly gentleman with the biggest walker I have ever seen gets on aggravating the packed bus who tries to shuffle out of the way to give him a seat. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but just beaming – the first true ear to ear grin I’ve seen in a long time.

He strikes up a conversation with me – he’s a bit jealous that I have a walker that can be folded up and he doesn’t  (though, as I pointed out to him, I’m not allowed to have wheels) and I half listen. My headphones are on. It’s a bit tricky to turn off my iPod in my pocket so I resist. But he keeps talking and something inside tells me I should listen, so I turn down the music, push my left headphone (the side of me he was sitting on) behind my ear and listen to him a bit more carefully.

He tells me about how his son would be so angry if he knew that his father has sneaked out in this weather, but he just had to be where the excitement was – he had to be in Chinatown to celebrate the Chinese New Year. The headphones slipped around my neck entirely as he began to tell me about how wonderful the colours are, how important it is for the Chinese to spend the day with their families and how the Chinese years coincide with animals which are supposedly connected to your personality.

This intriguing stranger, a francophone Canadian talking me (an Anglophone) through Chinese customs, was mesmerizing. While I had at first seen having a conversation as an unwelcome interruption, I was dreading the thought of him having to leave at his stop, which he explained was coming up. But before he left he told me one last story.

He told me about the Chinese tradition of putting cents in a red envelope and giving them to family and friends at the New Year as a sign of friendship and luck. He then reached deep into his bag and pulled out a red envelope with a Chinese character and handed it to me, saying “It looks like you’re the one who needs the little bit of extra luck this year.” Then he left, on his way, a stranger into the night never to be seen again.

I don’t know how he could have known it but I really needed the luck yesterday. I had been having an epically unlucky week. As my friends like to remind me constantly I am the incarnate of Murphy’s Law – If something can go wrong, it will go wrong and it will undoubtedly do so at the worst imaginable time. My tradition of bad luck is pretty legendary, and though this week wasn’t the worst, it was getting pretty close.

One of the things on my plate that had been causing a fair amount of anxiety was the task of trying to find a new roommate again and out of all my bad luck, it is my luck with roommates that is usually highlighted as so ridiculously terrible it can be nothing but hilarious. But last night I found a great new roommate – I knew even as she walked through the door that she was the right fit for me and for my home.

Given my track record the only thing that had changed between my lack of success before and my success last night was that red envelope – that luck transferred from a stranger on a bus. I’m not a superstitious person by any means. I’m definitely in the sceptics camp but even I have to give in once and a while. I’ll never know his name, but I do know that I’m exceptionally grateful and that I will hold that envelope dear as my luck, hopefully, begins to change. I also know that next new year, there is someone out there in the universe, maybe another stranger on a bus, that’s going to get a bit luckier.

Happy new year everyone.

In 1931 Irish poet and story teller James Stephens wrote: “That grief had been translated, or was come/ Other and better than it first looked to be:/ And that this happened. because all things transfer/ From what they seem to what they truly are/ When they innocently brooded on/ – And so the poet makes grief beautiful.” More than just a film or a story, Blue Valentine is poetry of the soul and writer/director Derek Cianfrance is its poet.

Equally brilliant are Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams in the lead roles of Dean and Cindy, two lovers, who after years of marriage and raising their daughter have drifted emotionally apart. Where at the beginning of their relationship, Dean had the upper hand as the nobler, older, wiser and employed half of the couple, the upper hand now clearly belongs to Cindy who has surpassed Dean in her education, employment and maturity. From some of the introductory scenes filmed around the breakfast table, it is clear that at this point in time and in their relationship that Dean has more in common with their young daughter Frankie than he does with his own wife.

Without giving too much away, the main catalyst for the demise of the marriage of Dean and Cindy is an irreconcilable difference in the way they define success. Cindy sees success in terms of potential fulfilled (whether she means earning potential, creative potential or both is unclear) while Dean sees success in terms of basic happiness – the ability to enjoy one’s days. What Dean sees as freedoms, Cindy sees as drawbacks – Dean’s happiness is Cindy’s settlement.

The character portraits that are painted are complicated ones. Though I wanted to hate Cindy and sympathize with Dean, I couldn’t, and I think that here lies the lesson that Cianfrance is trying to teach us – endings are not always clear cut, sometimes there are no “good guys” or “bad guys” but just people, good and bad, flawed and strong, ugly and beautiful. You can’t fault Dean’s devotion to his daughter any more than you can fault his wife’s desire for something more. I remember when I was younger and my mum had to explain the concept of divorce to me (not because my parents are divorced fortunately) and she explained it like this: Sometimes two wonderful people, great people, amazing people just aren’t wonderful for each other. That doesn’t make them any less wonderful, it just means that they don’t fit together.

For Dean and Cindy, pulled together by circumstance and timing, it is unclear whether they ever really did fit or whether the notion of love initially blinded them to their inevitable incompatibility, like it does for so many of the rest of us. Either way, I find it both horribly depressing and awkwardly reassuring at the same time

Paul Giamatti, an actor who I am now a bit ashamed to admit, I am historically not a fan of, delivered a fully convincing performance as conflicted Montréaler Barney Panofsky. Hovering between being a complete (for the lack of a more accurate colloquialism) douchebag and a flawed but lovably sympathetic anti-hero, Giamatti was able to illustrate that the two archetypal film characters are not mutually exclusive.

The film stayed true to its roots, both in terms of fidelity to the original novel and to the context in which it was written. Despite bringing in Hollywood heavyweights – Giamati, Dustin Hoffman and Minnie Driver, the film made no attempt to mask its Canadian identity. By maintaining Montréal as the film’s primary setting, the producers and director were able to show that Canada’s major cities have as much to offer as the great old-world cities (such as Rome) and the megalopolises of the United States (such as New York). The inclusion of prolific Canadians like Scott Speedman, Bruce Greenwood and Ellen David in combination with a Leonard Cohen heavy soundtrack provided Canadian viewers with the sense that there is a whole layer of the film reserved for insiders like us while at the same time firmly planting itself in the UK-US big-indie filmmaking tradition.

All in all, I highly recommend this film, well worth the price of admission and quite possibly the Canadian film with the greatest awards potential since Denys Arcand’s Les invasions barbares.

Just to be clear, I am only speaking for myself as a representative of Matchless Minds Music, my preferences are likely to be different from other label heads, other A&R folks and other human beings in general. The nice thing about running an independent label is that I don’t have to conform to generalized industry formulas aka I don’t just look for the artists that are most marketable (though not being sonically alienating is helpful).

I am looking for artists not musicians…

I know this may sound confusing, but I don’t mean that I want to offer Angela Bulloch a record deal. What I mean is that I am looking for someone who is more than someone who can competently play a musical instrument, or even play a musical instrument exceptionally. I am looking for someone, or a group of people who when together create something that transcends the mechanics of making music.

I am looking for people who are making music because they have to, not because they want to or even because they like to. I am looking for people who can’t exist without music, because I know that I can’t and if I am going to make an investment in someone or in a group of people I need them to be on the same page with me at least at this most basic level.

I’m not as concerned with whether I love each and every song that is produced as I am with whether or not a piece of the artist lies within each song.

…but I need artists that work like horses…

Though it is an absolute necessity to be an artist, there also has to be an amazing work ethic there. I run an independent label, not Warner Music, I don’t have millions of dollars to invest in paying other people to entertaining, primping, priming and serving my artists. At this point in time I barely have dozens. This means that, like with all indie labels, I need artists who aren’t afraid to work. I look for artists who put the hours in writing, singing, playing, working out melodies and harmonies and who are, to a certain extent, perfectionists about this. Even better are those who also aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty with me, assembling press packages, calling/emailing friends and families to remind them to come out to shows. At the end of the day, I am only one human being and while I will do everything in my power to move an artist’s or a band’s career forward, but I need the artist to be willing to put the work in to help me keep their engine running.

…and who act with a certain degree of professionalism.

I am taking this seriously and I need you to take it seriously too or it simply is not going to work. Be on time. Don’t be drunk on stage at a children’s festival. Don’t be high at your photoshoot. Don’t whine and cry until I take you to McDonalds when we are running late for an interview. This is so much more than a job. Note – MORE THAN A JOB – it still is very much a job and if you take it seriously it is the best job in the world.

Professionalism is something I can usually detect within two minutes of meeting with a band and talking to their appointed leader. If in those two minutes, I don’t see it, it is an automatic disqualification from consideration. This is probably a pretty harsh policy, but at the same time, experience has taught me that the more a band privileges “fun” over “work” (though for the best bands work is fun), the greater my headache, the harder my job and the less that I want to give 100% of myself towards their success. I refuse to give any less than my best, so the band will invariably lose out (aka get cut).

I am looking for the musical artists who want success the most and who define that success the same way as I do.

I don’t see success in terms of dollar signs. I like money (who doesn’t?) but I see it as a means to an end, as tool for survival (the ability to meet basic needs for you and your family while doing something you love) and for doing good in the world, not as power, status or a Mercedes Benz collection. If money = happiness for you, and if only loads of money is going to make you happy, I might not ever be able to make you happy, and I’m pretty sure that spending too much time around you is only going to make me miserable.

In terms of musical success, I define it as the ability to continue to move people with your music, the ability to fill (and continue to fill) rooms. For me, having an artist sell out and receive a standing ovation at Massey Hall is the pinnacle of success. Whether they drive home in a Lexus or a Toyota Corolla makes no difference to me. I want to work with people that dream of playing these legendary venues, who want to convert every person in their audience into a believer and who want to build long term careers so that they can keep doing this thing that they love every day of their life. I want to work with artists who dream of headlining the Hollywood Bowl, playing an evening slot at Newport Folk Festival and standing on stage at the Radio City Music Hall. I don’t want to work with artists who dream of babes, Bentleys and blow. I want artists that dream of Massey every single night and who will not rest until they can get there.

I am looking for artists who say something…

I don’t ever want to listen to another song about how two upper-middle-class teenagers fell in love, made out in their parent’s pool houses and then broke up dooming one another to a full week of eating lunch on their own at school or lying in the middle of a Whole Foods parking lot hoping someone would run them over. This means that I sure as hell don’t want to be the one responsible for more of these songs existing in the universe.

I am looking for artists who say something that means something. I want artists to talk politics, society, inequality, loneliness. I want artists who aren’t afraid to deconstruct themselves and the world around them.

… and who I am willing to bet my life on.

When an artist signs a recording deal or a management deal with me, they are essentially putting their future in my hands. It is my job to help them achieve their goals and dreams. At the same time however, I need the artists to recognize that while they are taking a chance on me, I am also taking a chance on them. I too am putting my success in their hands, my hopes, my dreams and my livelihood. When I say yes or make an offer, I really am betting my life on the artist(s) and I need them to respect that.

Spelling is definitely my Achilles heel, but I’m making a commitment to consistently deliver the highest quality of writing that I am capable of producing and that includes things free of embarrassing typos. So if there were any articles that particularly confused you, you should be in the clear now.

I should probably also make some mention of the new look. I decided that I wanted something lighter, as I felt that the old look was a bit dark. The header photo is of Ottawa’s nighttime skyline. Photo credit goes to csschoong: http://www.flickr.com/photos/cschoong/3773670850/.

While during the first winter, maybe couple of winters, it was brutal. It was jarring and physically draining to do something as simple as getting to a bus stop. Things aren’t as difficult now, and general relief at being able to walk has finally surpassed most of the difficulty in going about life. With each day, month and year that passes, I forget a little bit more about what life was like before the accident. I know that I must have run and jumped and ridden on elevators because I remember the feeling of playing basketball in particular, but I don’t remember what those actions themselves felt like anymore.

All in all, subnormality has become my normality and I’m cool with that. The only thing that I still have serious problems with is the way that other people treat me when they see me with my walker. Though I know I shouldn’t care what other people think, I can’t help it and I’m guessing that all the other people in the world that claim that they care not what other people think of them are those who care the most.

While most of the year I’m an incognito disabled person, during the winter when I am visibly disabled I notice a drastic change in perception, most acutely on the bus. No longer another commuter, I become a drug-addicted, thieving bottom-feeder dead-set on destroying humanity. While children stare, and understandably so, I am quite young to be using something they maybe only see their great-grandparents with, the people on the bus glare. Their eyes pierce and scream “Well look at yourself! Bet you did something horrible to end up like that! Can’t you just go off and disappear? Hope my tax dollars aren’t going to helping scum like you.”

Sometimes, to make it interesting, people will try speaking to me, as if they want to pry some information, dig to the bottom of the mystery. However they tend to speak slower than usual, taking extra care to annunciate each syllable. While this used to bother me almost as much at the staring, this ignorance is now amusing – I don’t know when leg injuries involved loss of hearing and/or intellectual impairment. At least I know I’m not alone in these experiences as many of the others with whom I play wheelchair basketball or are friends living with disabilities have similar stories to tell of being treated as though they are not all there up top when in transit, at a grocery store or a movie theatre.

Normally I’m a confident person, self-assured at least. I have spoken to crowds of thousands, played music for hundreds and have networked like a pro in all kinds of crazy business situations, but while I’m on the bus I can feel that confidence evaporate. When I commute in the mornings, I barely have time to gain it back before having to endure another humiliating trip home.

While I would never in a million years change how my life has turned out, I do wish people would think a bit more carefully before they make judgements about people with disabilities. This is the reason that I’m sharing my story with you here, in the hope that next time you are on a bus or in a mall you don’t glare, you don’t curse under your breath the woman with a cane for whom you have relinquished your seat on the bus and you don’t question whether the lady in the wheelchair parked in the mall rotunda might be able to score you some drugs (she might, but not any more likely than the man standing by the wall or the teenager on the park bench).

I don’t want your sympathy and neither do the vast majority of people with disabilities that I know, rather we would prefer to be treated as equals, but with a bit of empathy – for instance giving your seat up on the bus if you can stand or opening a door if we are taking 5 minutes to try to get through it. If you are unsure of whether to step in, a simple “Do you need a hand?” – the same kind of question posed to a co-worker trying to bring in a takeaway coffee tray – lets us take the lead and we’ll let you know if you can help.

So, when word came that Hornby was going to be putting out an album where he would be writing the lyrics and multi-instrumentalist Ben Folds would be doing the music I was elated. Though the album didn’t come out until a few months ago, there were plenty of demos and live performance videos tumbling around on the internet, so I didn’t even have to wait very long to hear some of the results of this collaboration.

I have to admit, I am a bit disappointed with the final product. It’s not as catchy as I would have expected (or have liked) and though each song tells a story, I only find half of them engaging. In truth, when I give a listen to the cd on my stereo (yes I still listen to cds – I buy them too), I skip about half of the songs.

Yet, despite all of this there is one standout on the album – track #2, “Picture Window”. This was one of the first songs to have a demo leaked and exist in the world for outsider consumption. Even though the sound of the song has changed dramatically from the original man and his piano live performance footage to a layered and bombastic demo through to the subtler version of the song on the final album, it is still by far the album’s strongest track. But, of course, this is just my opinion and this is an opinion that runs contrary to many other commentaries on the album which pick it out as a weak spot and a track that just doesn’t fit stylistically.

To those critics I counter with the point that it is precisely because it doesn’t blend in stylistically with the rest of the album that makes it a phenomenal track. It is hauntingly beautiful in its darkness in a way that grabs your arm and yanks you back towards the light, whether you’ve dug your heels in or not. It lets you wallow, it lets you be angry with the world but it forces you to recognize that there is an irresistible human desire to feel happiness.

The basic story of the song is about a mother of an ill son who has to spend New Year’s Eve with him in a London hospital. Like most people during the darkest moments in their lives, she is at a breaking point. She doesn’t want to hear that she needs to keep hope and knows that things could very well not work out just fine. She’s angry with the concept of hope, as if it is some sort of higher power and a human being at the same time. She doesn’t want to see the good in the world, she can’t afford to because she knows that if she does she’ll fall apart with a combination of guilt and grief. But just as she’s reaching the edge of that emotional cliff, something happens that causes her to feel, if not happy, a little bit less deperate, if only for the briefest period of time  - a fireworks display.

I think we’ve all been there, whether it’s trying to deal with a sick or dying parent, a bought of unemployment, a difficult break-up or just a general failure. We all have those points in our lives where we want to punch the next person square in the face who tells us to “keep our chin up” or “don’t worry, it’ll all work out”. We all hit that rock bottom where we don’t want to, and are incapable of hope, even if the feeling lasts only a second, or a minute. It’s only by allowing ourselves to go to that place that we can begin to claw our way forwards, one hand and one foot in front of the other with each inch a monumental victory. Some people snap, some people can’t claw their way back, and those people certainly need help and support (but I stand by my claim that they don’t simply need a generic “keep calm and carry on”), but most of us do. For most of us, it does all work out just fine.

For those of us who are internalizers, which I admittedly am (the only reason I can write this post about feelings is because they are feelings I am not currently feeling), this song is able to verbalize those things that we could never say ourselves. After all, even if we did try to say them, we’d ether be greeted with a “suck it up” or admitted for medical assistance. It might just be me, but I’ve always believed that this is something good music should do – give us the ability to say those things that we are too afraid to say under normal circumstances.

I invite you to listen to the song yourself and come to your own conclusions. If you think I’ve gotten it all wrong, please do let me know. Below are links to two versions of the song, the album version and a slightly more bombastic demo.

Album Version

Demo (still not my favourite version of the demo but until Hype Machine relaunches it will have to do)

http://media.smh.com.au/entertainment/red-carpet/ben-folds–picture-window-702928.html

This project feeds both my entrpreneurial and creative spirit and will allow the artists I will be working with, and myself, to really focus on the creation of great music and the building of great communities while maintaining financial stability. If you’re wondering how we are going to acheive this in an industry which seems to be shrivelling by the day, please stay tuned. Over the coming months, I’ll be talking a little bit more of our marketing and outreach strategies as well as our revenue model.

1. Unless you work for the local paper, a magazine (that is printed) or a recognizable news/industry (music) organization your camera only needs one lens. Better yet, leave the SLR at home and actually watch the performance with your own eyes.Unless you or someone else is going to make money off of those pictures, you lugging around a 30 pound camera bag and a tripod isn’t going to do you any good. There is a good chance that you won’t even be allowed to take pictures. If you are, and then decide to exercise an imaginary right to get the best shot by climbing over people who actually bothered to show up early and wait patiently outside to get a great spot or by standing on other people’s shoulders you will not only be the most hated person in the place but you may be killed. Being hunched on the ground frantically trying to change to that new “wicked fisheye” you bought last week will quite possibly result in you being trampled upon and you will have no right to complain should that occur. Furthermore, more often than not it will also draw the ire of those people performing on stage, especially if you decide to employ a flash. No one wants to fall off of a stage because they have been blinded by an inconsiderate d-bag. Do yourself a favour and do everyone else a favour leave the fancy camera at home. If you REALLY want a keepsake, take a quick shot with your phone or a compact digital that can fit in your pocket.
2. The sound dude/gal would really prefer to pay attention to his/her job than have to tune out your ranting about “mixing levels” or “turning up warm acoustic tones”. The person operating the sound booth has been trained. They have experience. They may even have a certificate to attest to the fact that they know what they are doing. You do not. As you continue to talk you not only make yourself sound increasingly daft, but you decrease the overall sound quality because, believe it or not, the sound person needs to hear what’s going on on stage to create the optimal audio environment for you and everyone else in attendance.
3. Having a blog doesn’t mean you get to skip line.You are not automatically promoted to the front because 4 individuals (including your grandmother and your cat) read your gig reviews once a week. It doesn’t confer some special magical status. Unless you’ve been told otherwise by the promoter, venue manager or the band (and sometimes even if you have) please wait in line like everyone else. Whining to the bouncer/security won’t win you any points either, it may mean you don’t get in at all (unless of course the person with the power to let you in fancies you in which case all rules go out the window). Here’s a secret for you: Everyone else in line has music blogs too – and they get more hits than you. Back off and stand down.
4. If you are going to stand still and are terrified of being touched don’t stand right in front of the stage. Standing at the front means you have prime real estate – a space that everyone else wants. This especially includes the superfans and the most enthusiastic members of the audience. Regardless of whether you are dancing or not, there is a good chance that everyone else around you will be. They will bump into you, knock into and touch you. They may not apologize. They will not go out of their way to avoid invading your personal space. Don’t have a hissy fit. If you are that intent on not being touched or moving there are some wonderful sides to most venues that offer a decent view and a bit of a personal space cushion. Stand there. It also helps the band too as having a human totem pole in the middle of a group of dancing happy people is distracting.
5. You are not going to a fashion show. Stop acting like you are.This should be pretty self-explanatory but for some reason it keeps being an issue. It is dark inside the venue so no one will be able to see you. Certain types of fabric do not increase the sound quality. Being cramped into a small room with a bunch of other people will make you sweat. Yet, why do you continue to judge others dressed more practically as you stand in line or make catty comments at the bar. That’s not cool and neither are you (but it isn’t uncool enough to go full circle and make you so uncool you’re cool either). Wear something comfortable. Put on shoes that don’t make your feet bleed. Wear fabrics that breathe. There is never a need for leather vests.