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Public Transmit
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A girl, A guitar and Too Much Attitude
Seeing as this page originally started as a way to promote my music, well. Here it is. Gratuitous self promotion.

Labled anarcho folk punk, ani difrancoesque and at times pure crap, Meghan Dove plays politically charged, alcohol induced music to make you laugh, cry, sing along and even throw things... Alright some have said she sucks, but dude, she tries really hard.

Her acoustic stylings meld the politics of punk, and a lighthearted ska beat with the straight forward honesty of folk. Vocals compared to Joplin, harmonies stolen from Screeching Weasel and simple four chord progressions that Dylan taught can go far. Advertised perfectly as “A Girl, A Guitar and Too Much Attitude"

With incredible power and support in all her songs, she moves easily from slow mournful ballads to up-beat sing along drinking songs; from a manifesto for transients to a eulogy for Ernesto Guevara. Recognized for content, passion and unusually short skirts, Meghan rocks the Toronto folk scene in a sedate and feminine expression of unadulterated acoustic punk that is so much more for being less a band.

22 (click the pic to upload the song)
Drinking at the rivoli, we got banned from the 360 cause mohawks scare the good people away. This we have to question don’t they know tonight we’re drinking more than good people drink over the course of days. Six O’Clock queen and spadina, scoping out the local talent you like big boobs and tight asses i like leather jackets and tattoos. Soon we’ll hit the market and you know you’ll get your ass kicked cause the guys that i pick fights with wouldnt hit a girl. Sleep in grange or bathurst bridge or maybe hit sneaks for breakfast. I kiss you good bye knowing that it’s my last day. I got no money no ride home no place to sleep no fallback plan no full time job nothing that matters got no food i dumped my boyfriend. No friends here gum on my jacket just one backpack so alone lost somewhere new and oh yeah i have holes in my shoes. No agenda education, drive for success and not patience, no initiative or responsibility, fuck it I’m free. Spent the morning busking, think we made ‘bout eighty dollars, but that night in bed I realized, nonetheless we didn’t eat. Cause Calgary’s too hot, dumb tourists wearing cowboy hats and the ship and anchor called to every cent i had. So we sat there in the sun i watched the boys you checked out girls and then we drank on seventeenth ave because public parks are free. I let him carry my guitar you know the drunker that we are the less i wonder where I’m gonna sleep.
PLO (click the pic to upload the song)
Whats the difference between lies and what you wont let us see? Your propaganda it invades newspaper pages overseas. But that’s ok cause we’re the ones who fund your wars and send you guns, all so our puppets will control the rich rich land of sand and oil. There’s an instance of non interference in the system that will not hear us, and the problem goes on unreported those who afford vowels don’t want it known that, they perpetuate the self same hate crimes that they have suffered throughout their lifetimes. Interested little boy? You’ll never know the truth. Only whispers reach us in this land, of manufactured views. What’s the difference in this cold cold war, kill off journalists don’t let them report. But living there on your black list who’s to see through print to the news in it, see who’s innocent and who’s got guilt, see your lies for what they are, pure shit. History will bear witness, it was the government that was terrorist. There’s an instance of non interference in the system that will not hear us, and the problem goes on unreported those who afford vowels don’t want it known that, they perpetuate the self same hate crimes that they have suffered throughout their lifetimes. Interested little boy? You’ll never know the truth. Only whispers reach us in this land, of manufactured views. Meanwhile we’re silently consenting, sending weapons to the fight. Sure we send them to the winners, but are the winners always right? Forced applause when held at gunpoint, choked down laughter at the farce. They call appointed killers heros while their elected’s behind bars.
Ska Girl On The Block (Click The Pic to Upload Song)
Male dominated field, contains a passion that is real, but the one who takes the stage and dominates it is female. Red hair and two tone tights, smiling round her mouthpiece, she’s playing music, know she feels it, puts all others in their place. We’ve had riot girls and sluts, all americans and punks. In the tradition of the rude boy, two tone true above all the noise. She’s an all night skanking, bari playing, old school wailing ska girl on the block. Wa-aow she rocks. If you play she knows the words to all Chris Murray and what’s worse, screeching weasel obsessed always impressed with one who plays until it hurts. Smiling through it all, school, family friends and shitty job, cause even though they’re leaving and it’s changing, her life’s there in ska
Addict (click the pic to upload song)
Is it masochism, for you see, it’s of her own design. When the cup remains half empty and she still insists she’s fine. You could never say I love you, you could never let her see, because she’s slowly going under and you’re so afraid to bleed. You are the answer to a prayer. You are the outcome of worshiping a god they say is dead. Cause she just can’t run and she just can’t hide and somehow you’ve gotten deep inside and she knows she needs you, she won’t leave you. Poison kills but tastes so damn good. Dying by the hand she yearns for, god it hurts but still she needs more. She hates it, but takes it. You give her, you’ll kill her. So she gives herself unto your hands allows her soul to be suppressed, hoping maybe someday hatred will turn into happiness. Though she knows affection’s painful and all love must surely die, she will give herself unto your trust and hope that she’s not right. ‘Cause, you are the answer to a prayer. You are the outcome of worshiping a god who’s surely dead.
A.D (click the pic to upload song)
How many people will write their books, saying they knew you when. How many friends will sing your praises, telling the world how, how amazing you were. They see dead eyes and mourn a lost friend, some see the sorrow, wonder why. They stood beside you in the shadows, but ran away in the light. The elation of a slap to the face and the power of your smile. I didn’t pull the trigger, I just left you there to die. So solitary in your lone grave, the shallow grave we helped to dig. You’re now our hero though we killed you, now that you won the war, you’re not a terrorist. We stood beside you well respected, but don’t dare ask just what we did. ‘Cause when the fight started we ran away; a noble ally when you win.