Alan's FTRs 2006 - From The Hard And The Easy Tour

What follows is the full text of the FTRs Alan made from the last tour, except for the ones he made during tour breaks which have been put into the Off The Road journal. Since those have not yet been hidden behind a silly map, a link will suffice for now.

February 1, 2006
Tour Diary
Stratford, Ontario Dressing Room

Whew! One down; perhaps the hardest one of all. Yesterday afternoon and last evening, I felt more anxious about the performance than ever. This anxiety was not completely unfounded. I cannot remember starting a tour with so many new elements. As I noted yesterday, we have new music to consider, but on this tour, we have new sets, new formats, new gear, new instruments, and completely different arrangements of tunes that we've been playing for years. Tough to teach old dogs new tricks.

We got through last nights performance with no major train-crashes and a long sound-check/rehearsal today will go a long ways. Thanks to the Brantford crowd whose energy and excitement buoyed us along the ride.

I've been to Stratford before, but I think this is the band's first time playing here. It is one of the most picturesque little towns in Canada. Living proof that you need not be in a metropolis like Manhattan or Paris to find great food, architecture, theatre, music, book stores, coffee shops, etc. There's a lot to choose from in a small area.

Indeed there are many grand boutiques and restaurants and craft shop with many arty and cultural items available. Alas, I am a Rock Pig. With all this respectable stuff available to me, on a tour promoting a folk CD with only one or two electric guitar songs in the show; what do I buy? I stroll into a used music store and buy a used vintage Marshall JCM 800 amplifier. It's the guitar amp of choice for every metal band since 1960. Can't help but sound like Slash when you plug into it. Now, if I could only play like him.

Rock on.

Cheers
Alan
Old Dog/Rock Pig

February 4, 2006
Tour Diary
Winnipeg, Mondragon Coffeehouse

Border Crossings. There’ll be lots of them on this tour as we zigzag back and forth across the 49th . I’ve heard many people complain about being stopped and questioned at the Canada/US border. This whining has always puzzled me. I certainly welcome strangers into my house, but not without a referral or some concept of who the person is and what their intentions are, once they cross the threshold. Why should countries be any different?

I have always accepted that when entering someone else’s country, I will have to explain what I plan to do, where I plan to go and if I’ll be conducting business or enjoying a vacation while walking in someone else's backyard. It just seems reasonable to me, but not everyone, apparently, as complaints about ’getting grilled’ at the airport or border are hardly scarce.

I’m not sure if I’ve spoke about this before in this forum, but I am constantly amazed at how easy we have it at the US Border. Here we are, nine long haired freaky people in a massive bus with a huge trailer, with enough space to carry God knows what from country to country, and a pile of unmarked cases filled with wires and cables and radio transmitters. And still we rarely get asked for more than a photo ID and our work Visa’s.

We had a couple of border crossings in the last couple of days. On the way to Chicago, we crossed the border and had to have our new work permits processed, which meant we had to rise from our bus sleeps at 4:30am and have our prints and stuff done at US Customs. Nine sleepy eyed, longhaired freaky people squinting and mumbling ’yes’ and ’no’ answers under the florescent lights in the massive customs hall built for a thousand, must have been some sight to see for the nightshift crew.

No calamities and no rubber gloves later, we rolled to Chicago for the show.

Last night we were re-entering the land of the True North Strong and Free somewhere south of the Peg. We were all sleeping in our three high bunks, hidden behind our curtains enjoying the sleep afforded by the long, straight, flat prairie highway. Our most excellent bus driver, Robert, offered our passports to the Canadian Customs officer and explained who was asleep in the back, hoping that he would just let the bus roll on through. No Luck. Quite reasonably, the officer explained that he did not want to get everyone out their bunks, but really needed to match the faces with the pictures on the passports. So he came aboard and asked us all to stick our head out through the curtains for inspection.

Now picture that. One very friendly but burly and heavily armed officer standing in the narrow hallway of the bus with the sleepy heads of nine longhaired freaky people poking out between the curtains of bunks stacked three on top of each-other.

"Who’s Doyle?" He asks sternly.

"Me, right here." I cough

"Foster?"

"He’s on the bottom." Someone points.

"McCann?"

"Which one?" We all say together as Sean and Glenn both raise their hands.

Very odd moment for all of us, I’m sure.

After he left, we were all wide awake talking and joking across the narrow hall from top bunk to middle bunk and back and forth. Just as we slowly started to fall back to silence and sleep, someone made a fake fart noise obviously by blowing hard into their tightly cupped hand. We all burst into laughter and the bunk to bunk banter continued for another half hour. It was like being at some summer camp for grown men who refuse to grow up.

Hmm.

Cheers
Alan

February 8, 2006
Tour Diary
Calgary, Alberta
Hotel Room


Great show in Minneapolis. Thanks to the kind ladies for the Mexican food that sustained us across the prairies.

Saskatoon never disappoints. Played to our biggest crowd ever in the big theatre and had a grand night. Bob got through the show despite his bout with the flu. He did not look good around the supper hour but thanks to a backstage visit from Dr. Tom, he made it through with flying colours. (&*&%% you spell check!! "colours has a ’U’!!")

The Black Duck never disappoints either. 'Nuff said.

Rolled to Edmonton for the first day off of the tour and the kind folks at the Oilers let us sit in the press box to watch the game against the Ducks. Very cool for a hockey fan like me. Got to stroll through the dressing room and said hello to a couple of the players who had not dressed for the game. I checked out Ty Conklin's new regulation goalie gear. Holy Shite is it ever small and light. I should treat myself to new gear, I suppose. In any case, we had a grand experience thanks to all hands with the Oilers. For the record, the Oil won in a shootout.

Had a busy day yesterday as we did one of a few "Fantasy Kitchen Parties", where we go to a contest winner's house and sing a few songs the way we might do back in Newfoundland. Amy and Ted were spectacular hosts and we had a very nice time singing a few tunes and sharing a few laughs. All good.

The theatre in Edmonton is as schmancy as we've played. Reminds me of the Royal Glasgow Concert Hall. All went well at the show and we rolled to Calgary to do it all again.

A few more shows in the Canadian West and we're off to America.

Feeling a wee bit flu-ish today. It's always tough to avoid the bugs when touring Canada in the winter.

Need Mom's chicken soup.

Cheers
Alan

February 10, 2006
February 10, 2006
Tour Diary
Ferry to Victoria


Not sure how to begin.

"Almost died yesterday." Sounds too dramatic.

"Had a wee incident with the bus." Too understated.

I’ll tell my story and you can make up your own minds.

I woke I the bunk about 9 AM and spent my usual 10 minutes trying to convince myself that I could go back to sleep till the moving bus came to it’s final stop of the day, at the gig. By 9:15 I was up and wandered to the front lounge and saw that the entire traveling party except light guy Shawn, was sitting in the front lounge chatting and comparing notes on last evenings show, the hockey scores, the girl with the green top, the odd dude waiting by the bus all day; the usual morning chat on the bus. All hands could lie down no longer and were impatiently watching the kilometers drop on the Vancouver road signs.

I learned that we were only thirty something kilometers from Vancouver and should be able to make the scheduled load in time. All systems go.

I sat on the drivers side couch between Murray and Danny, across from Kris and Steve the audio guy, while Bob went into the washroom and Andy stood at the counter prepping his tea. Robert and Glenn were up front driving and photographing, respectively.

One second all things seemed normal and I was defending team Canada's goaltending choices, or something, when the whole day took a dark turn.

Robert slammed on the breaks as hard as I've ever felt on a tour bus, and immediately swerved to the left. This caused everything that was not nailed down, including the recently boiled kettle to fly forward. The kettle hit Danny in the side of the head, spilling the hot water right next to him. I don't know how he was not burned. The lurch to the left sent all of us flying to the right, where I almost kneed Kris in the forehead and did spill my coffee on his lap. I heard Bob smash against the walls of the washroom and watched Andy slide across the floor.

Then we started tipping.

It was slow at first, but when she went, she went hard. We were just about stopped and resting safely on the curb when the bus gently leaned to the left. Then a little more. Then the roof lurched down hard and all hands who had just been across from me were now above me and falling fast. Kris sped past my face and landed on me and Murray and braced himself on the glass. Andy crashed into Murray's legs and held on. Bob went hard against the door of the washroom which was now like an upside-down coffin with the door doing double duty as the floor and the only way out. Steve and Glenn went flying the hardest. The brakes sent Glenn flying to the windshield and the tip sent him and Steve crashing to the drivers side and right on top of Robert who was knocked out, most likely from the impact with the lads.

Shawn the light guy was the only one in the bunks and he was on the driver's side so he did not get tossed very far. His fright was from all the opposite bunks falling on top of him and potentially trapping him with no visible escape. He, unlike the rest of us, had no clue where we were, what was happening, or how much danger we were or were not in.

We scraped along the ground for a few seconds till the bus finally halted.

Quiet.

The first sound were not screams of ‘get me out of here’ or ‘what the f&*% is happening’ rather they were simultaneous questions of "is everyone OK" and answers of "I'm alright"

We did a general roll call and everyone spoke up and seemed unharmed. Except Robert, who had passed out but quickly came around after a few nudges and a few shouts of his name.

I could not get up. I kept putting my feet on the floor and trying to stand, but could not bring myself perpendicular to the floor. It took a few seconds of disorientation before I realized that the floor was no longer the bottom and was now really a wall. The glass window behind my head which had always been a wall was now the floor. Danny pointed this out to me and I stood up fairly quickly. Weird.

Moments later, a couple of guys who saw the whole thing climbed up to the door, which was now on the ceiling, and asked if everyone was OK. Another moment later, a fireman replaced that guy and came with a ladder to get all hands out.

It was not till we were all gathered on the grassy hill dividing the four lanes that I found out what had just happened. We were traveling up a hill and when the bus came to the crest, there were several lanes of stopped traffic only a few hundred feet ahead. That might have been barely enough space to stop a regular vehicle, but a forty-five foot bus and a sixteen foot trailer loaded with gear had no chance. Robert hit the brakes once and realized he had no chance of stopping before he ran over one or two of the cars in front, killing everyone inside instantly. So, he swerved to the left and hoped to stop the bus on the shoulder to keep everyone safe. He almost did it. Just before we could completely stop, the narrow shoulder gave way and the bus tipped. He was beside himself despite our insistence that he had most likely just saved a bunch of lives; ours included.

Robert went to the hospital for a check up. Glenn had a serious knock on the forehead, but swore he was all right. Steve hurt his thumb in the fall. Bob, Andy, Kris, Danny, Murray and I were all shaky and stiff but otherwise fine. Shawn, the light guy, had come out of the overturned bunk area, which must have been a claustrophobic's nightmare, like a guy coming from a day at the spa. He looked like perfectly calm and relaxed, as if a song bird had gently stirred him from his rest. "That was quite a ride" he casually mentioned as the ambulance guy checked us out. "Trailer should be OK, let's hitch it up and get to the gig."

And that was the focus from there on. We all wanted to do the gig. We probably would have gotten away with phoning in sick for the Vancouver show, but all hands insisted the show must go on.

I guess it was partly macho bravado that drove us to tow the trailer to the back of the theatre, set up the gear in record time, and play as hard as we could for three hours. As well, it was probably a grand way to blow of steam and to concentrate on anything other than the fact that we had almost died in a fiery crash, miles away from home. But mostly we did it because it made the horrible events of the morning seem worth the effort. Getting to play concerts, after all, is why we do what we do.

It's a bit too recent an event to draw any major conclusions from it, but I will say this. The lads on that bus did everything right. I am proud of them and pleased to be one of them. We all showed genuine concern for each-other's welfare, acted completely responsibly given the circumstances and got the show up and running for all the paying public. The curtain rose at exactly 7:30.

Well done lads.

Alan

February 10, 2006
Seattle to Portland
Amtrack Train

Planes, trains, and automobiles.

We’ve used all of them since the bus has been out of commission for the past few days. Itrsquo;s funny how the bus becomes the center of your existence on the road. It is the only constant in an ever changing landscape. It houses your food, your clothes, your entertainment facilities, your office and, small as it may be, your precious bunk; the single small space that is only for you and is your respite for sleep, solitude, and silence. We get our refurbished bus back today in Portland, so since Thursday wersquo;ve traveled by just about every means available.

Mini-Van

We all drove from Vancouver to the Ferry terminal in a mini van that later carried some of us to Seattle.

Ferry

We took the ferry to Victoria and some took it back, as well.

Sea Plane

Myself and Sean took a small six seat seaplane from downtown Victoria to downtown Seattle. It turned out to be a very beautiful ride and a great way to see the coast while avoiding cabs and airports. Pretty cheap too. I'd recommend it.

Train

Instead of renting a mini van and having a one-way rental drop off fee in Portland, the band and Glenn, the merchandise dude, are presently on a four hour train ride from Seattle to Portland.

Taxi

There have been several of them and will be a couple more before we get back on the bus in a couple of hours.

This does not count the various tow trucks and cube vans the crew have had to endure since the bus went out of commission. All the above means of transportation were required to replace one tour bus in just three days. An organizational nightmare for the bands manager and tour manager.

Even with the apprehension of getting back into the vehicle that almost crushed us to death, all hands are eager to get back on the bus. Touring on a bus affords less privacy than the alternatives and requires you to sleep in a metal tube hurtling down the highway, but in the end it is just easier. No lobby calls to coordinate, no rental car check-in counters, no maps for us to consider, and no airports. I repeat, no f**0ing airports.

The train ride is peaceful, as they most always are. Though we are currently stopped on the tracks and have been for about thirty minutes. There goes the two pm arrival. Hope we make it for sound-check in Portland.

Cheers
Alan

February 16, 2006
Highway to Tucson
On the Bus


Robert got the bus repaired and met us all in Portland. All hands glad to see him and the big green and blue Newfoundland and Labrador bus parked behind the Alladin Theatre.

We unpacked our bag, put our coffee mugs in their respective nooks, and personalized our bunks as we all do in our own way. Bob loads his with novels and magazines, Kris has a CD player and his iPod, while Danny's is by far the most tricked out; with video players, laptop, mood-lighting, various headphone configurations with A/V hookups to the front and back satellite receivers. He even had a small cooler in there once, earning his bunk the nickname of ‘Danny's Deli’.

Had a grand show in Portland and rolled to San Fran. Myself and Sean ran along Fisherman‘s Wharf and watched the cool seals for a while before heading to the club. We played Bimbos which, looks like a set from the God Father. All late 50’s décor, with big velvet pleated drapes everywhere, huge paintings, fountains and chandaliers and a coat check bigger than my first apartment. Sexy. The mascot for the club is a beautiful big busted, completely naked lady riding a gold fish. Very Sexy.

We did well adjusting the theatre show for the club in San Fran and managed to get the quieter ballads out over the din of the crowd. Many thanks to the kind gals from the Rock. Curses on the idiot who decided it was a good idea to Frisbee toss a license plate onto the stage. It missed Murray's head by about four inches. Not very sexy.

We bussed overnight to LA and my buddy Mike took me and Sean to Venice Beach and Santa Monica. We tossed the ball on the beach and had grand afternoon in the sunshine and salt air. The show was probably our best ever in Los Angeles, a city that has shagged us more times than not. It’s tough to sell tickets there and there are so many entertainment options that putting your stamp on the LA evening is a tough chore. I felt like we finally did it last night.

Los Angeles has a reputation for wild Hollywood parties and late nights. I’ve never seen evidence of this, and I’ve had few nights out with a few big names in that town. You can have a drink backstage and make your own party, but it is virtually impossible to play a gig and get drunk in a public bar in Los Angeles after the show. The pubs, if you can find them, are miles apart, and require three drivers and a personal valet to get to them. The rules, once inside are so strict that it reminds me of being at a high-school dance. You can't stand here or there, a waitress will or won'’t serve you if you are at a table with a blue tablecloth, and the bars generally seem to be staffed by people who don't want to be bartenders. My LA buddies tell me that they are all frustrated actors. I don’t get it. Bars are noble places. Houses of group conversation and celebration. I cannot fathom any opinion to the contrary. I understand the need for these bars to eventually close and while "Last Call" is my evil nemesis, I accept its inevitability. It comes way too early and often for a world class entertainment capital like Los Angeles. Me and a bunch of friends managed to beg as dude to give us a drink at 1:20. We were on the sidewalk by 1:36.

LA.great town to get a salad or a smoothie. Tough spot to get a proper drink.

Last Call scores another one in its ongoing battle with Alan Doyle. But keep your head up, Last Call. GBS has a day off in Vegas tomorrow.

The war is far from won.

Cheers
Alan

February 18, 2006
Tour Diary Park City, Utah
High school Hallway

I’m sitting on the grey industrial carpet of a long hallway with orange cinderblocks down one side while the opposite side is lined with six foot high lockers with beige doors and brown trim. I have not sat in a hallway like this for a long time. Major déjà vu. I recall talking my way into and out of many trips to the principal’s office in corridors just like this one.

I remember the day in Grade 7 or 8 when we had just started our "Our Bodies, Ourselves" course, and the teacher, who should thank me for keeping him nameless, gave us a big speech about being mature and acting like adults in these discussions of the intimate parts of our ever changing bodies. He started with a biology lesson on the names of the sex organs and their individual parts. A vagina, a penis, a uterus.that sort of thing, when the fool asked us to use these new vocab words in sentences. Now come on. He asked me to put ‘vas deferns’ (sp?) in a sentence, despite being fully aware of my reputation for being the class clown. What was I to do?

"There's a 'vas deferns' between the size of Roger's penis and mine." I said as seriously as possible.

Not five seconds later, amid howls of teenage laughter, I was thrust into a hallway just like the one I’m sitting in right now. The teacher sent me to see the principal to who came very near to cracking his thin façade of the consummate disciplinarian when, under the teacher’s firm instruction, I explained what I had said, verbatim.

There are many more tales from high school halls that I could share, as I’m sure we all could. The reason, by the way that I’m sitting in this hallway is because the theatre we play tonight in Park City is attached to a High School. I’ve been wandering in and out of the lab, the band room, and each one of them brings back a flood of reminiscences. Most of them are very positive. I liked high school as I enjoy being in big groups of people; a great trait to have if you want to play in a touring band for a living.

Vegas was a blast yesterday as we got off the bus for about twelve hours in Sin City. What a foolish place. No confessions here, though. What goes on in Vegas.

Cheers
Alan

February 19, 2006
Tour Diary Denver, Colorado
Dressing Room

I woke at 8am and could not get back to sleep. We still had an hour or so to go.

I needed coffee. So I went at the coffee maker. This is always a mistake. Coffee makers and I do not agree. I don‘t like coffee makers and they don‘t like me. I find making coffee a fairly coordinated and complicated procedure. I need my wits about me and I need to be fully awake to attempt these types of jobs. In other words, I need coffee to make coffee. There‘s the hitch.

I generally avoid making coffee. I live in the city because I HAVE to be able to walk to a coffee shop in the morning. A job as important as coffee making should only be undertaken by seasoned professionals. The ladies and gents at Hava Java in St. John‘s take care of me daily when I'm home, but traveling as I am I had to look after myself.

I am fairly level headed. I have not punched a wall in a long, long time. I do not swear at my computer, I don't throw phones or alarm clocks, and I don’t give other drivers the finger. I don't think I have become a Prima Donna Rock Star. I don't require the red M&M‘s to be separated from the other colours, I don't require Turkish rugs or a certain flavor incense backstage, and I don't cause a fit if the water is one degree too cold onstage.

But here‘s the sad truth. I beat up coffee makers.

Yes, that is the one crack in my attempted Zen. They bug the shite out of me. They mock me. They seem to work fine for everyone else, but not me. Even when I follow the instructions exactly, the water flows over the filter or the coffee is way too weak or strong. F*%$ coffee makers.

I smashed one with a mag-lite outside the bus in Rochester a few years ago. I tossed one from the moving bus somewhere between Phoenix and Vegas on a recent tour. I am generally given a free ride when it comes to coffee making on tour, but as no one else was in the front lounge, I had to give it a go.

I had just begun to survey the coffee, filters and the machine when a few of the crew lads drifted sleepily to the front. A few of them had taken their seats eyeing the US vs. Sweden game this morning before they realized what I was attempting. A couple of the lads are new so they would not be fully aware of my checkered past. Still they must have heard something as they became very nervous when they saw me approach the new, apparently "state of the art" coffee system on the bus.

I forged ahead, convinced this day I would break the coffee make curse. I put the ground coffee in the filter. I poured the bottled water in the back and none spilled on the counter. I closed the front and pushed the red button, and waited. Moments later coffee started to appear in the pot below. I did not rush and trust the 'pour and go' spout that has so often shagged me, sending hot coffee up my sleeve or down my pants. I waited and poured coffee from the full pot into my "City of Brantford" Travel mug (compliments of the Mayor) and replaced on it's stand. I poured in the tiniest drop of milk and the coffee went white. Too weak to drink.

I did not swear, but bowed my head and tried convince myself that this was not a big deal. It was not working. I stared with rage at the beast that had once again made a coffee making fool of me. Just then, Sean walked through the door and entered the front lounge rubbed his eyes and looked startled when he realized what was happening.

"What's going on here? Who let Doyle at the coffee maker?" He asked the crew guys who pointed at each other.

"It‘s too weak." I was ashamed. Foiled again.

"It's alright, dude. Dump it out and we'll make another one." He calmed me.

I went in to the washroom to dump it and through the closed door behind me I heard Sean whispering, informing the new lads of "Keep Alan from the Coffee Maker" rule.

Sean made a good pot, by apparently used five tablespoons, not teaspoons of ground coffee. Who can remember such details before they have caffeine? The day has been great ever since.

I get by with a little help from my friends.

Looking forward to a big gig in Denver tonight.

Cheers
Alan

March 10, 2006
Tour Diary Glenside, PA
Village Diner

I think I’m getting old. I’ve been waking up with pains in places that I’ve never even knew could pain. Like the space in between your knee and you thigh. What is that called? Upper knee? Lower thigh? Not pain, like go to the doctor pain, but odd, stiff, old-guy pains that are really just mildly noticeable and annoying in AM and are gone an hour later.

Had a couple of good shows to start off the second leg. We had our biggest showing ever in Hamilton, with a totally sold out theatre. It was a long day as I woke at 4:30 AM to catch the early flight from St. John’s to Toronto, then drove to Hamilton, did three hours of press and a photo shoot, sound check, more press and finally the gig. It was a grand night and a great crowd.

I might have jinxed our border crossing ease by explaining, a few posts back, that we never have any trouble entering America. On our way to Rochester, we got yanked off the bus and into the customs office one at a time and asked tricky questions that I was way to sleepy to answer properly.

"Tell me Mr. Doyle, have you stopped reconsidering your intentions to delay your terrorist activities?"

Just kidding. That would be a tough one though. The actual conversation went like this.

"What is the purpose of your trip to the US, Mr. Doyle?", asked the not-too-happy-to be-working-nightshift customs officer.

"Play music sir". I whisper.

"What is the name of your band?"

"Great Big Sea."

"Great Big 'C'? You guys a Rap Band."

"No we play folk music. Its ‘sea’, like the ocean. We're from Newfoundland"

"Is that where you kill those baby seals?""

He must be a Larry King Live viewer. Here's where I sort of woke up a bit and became somewhat witty and my internal and external dialogue could, thankfully, separate.

Internal:

"Yep. You got it Sherlock. Killing seals. That’s what we do there. Every frickin’ day. Wake up in downtown St. John’s, throw open the front door, run out in the middle of Duckworth Street and kill a seal. Yeha!"

Thanks a bunch Sir Paul.

External:

"I am a folk singer, we play Rochester tonight"

"Thanks sir, have a good gig."

I figure we still get off easy.

I went to two radio stations in Rochester. I was a guest on a radio talk show hosted by called the Wese. A big biker looking dude, he was surrounded by a few people lounging on couches and tossing in off-colour comments and racy jokes. It looked a bit Stern-esque. Hmm. I was made even more nervous when the host piped up and without apprehension says, "I hate Celtic Music." Oh Dear. But it turned out to be a cool experience. The host was a real cool man whose charm comes from his unexpected worldliness and his brutal honesty. One of those guys who can’t help but say every single thought or question that occurs to him. No internal editing what so ever. It was a treat to meet someone so genuine.

Kat from WBER picked me up a little later and we made our third trip to the radio station. We sat in the studio and chatted about tunes and Newfoundland and whatever occurred to us, and I sang a few tunes with the GTR. Lovely time, as always.

I am sitting in the Village Diner. The pretty waitress has just convinced me to try ‘scrapple’. It appears to be some combination of mixed meat by-products coated with some breading and deep fried. It is a Philly tradition, apparently. I had one bite. I gave it a go.

I don‘t think the Cheese Steak has anything to worry about.

MacFarlane just swung in and announced that there is to be a soccer game behind the theatre. Time to work out the ‘old guy’ kinks.

Cheers
Alan

March 11, 2006
Tour Diary Cleveland, Ohio
On the Bus

Yeah, we are 13 years old today. For those of you who don't know, the first time Sean, Bob, Darrell, and I played together was March 11, 1993. We opened for the Irish Descendants at the Thompson Student Center at Memorial University. I broke three strings on three different guitars. It was amazing.

Much water under the bridge since then. We’ve probably done close to two thousand shows, recorded 8 CDs and two DVDs, played in more than a dozen countries and all but three States, I think, and at last count sold well over a million records. I guess its going well, so far.

Progress for us has always been slow but steady. We’ve never been the talk of the town, but have never fallen out of the conversation, completely. Never had a number one hit, but never really had a record that flopped. The GBS career so far is not the fast track to riches and fame, but is a great way to get to play music for a lifetime. I’d much rather have 20 years on stage as opposed to having the biggest song on Earth for three weeks and never again seeing the light of day.

So here we are a touring band celebrating its 13th birthday in the home of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Trying to .resist typing.can’t help it.

Hello Cleveland!

Happy Day Cast and Crew of Great Big Sea. You're a good bunch of lads.

Here's to 13 more years.
Cheers
Alan

March 14, 2006
Tour Diary Ann Arbor
Hotel Room

A quick peek at the schedule reveals that we have 15 shows and several TV commitments in the next 17days. Even by GBS touring standards, that's a heavy load. Paddy's day is right in the middle of it, too. Tough to squeeze a pint in this year.

Had a grand night in Madison. We were really loose and casual at the show. Apologies if we lost the plot a couple of times in our excitement. I hope the audience had as much fun as we did. We were even more loose and casual after the show. Apologies if we lost the plot a couple of times in our excitement. Days off are scarce as hens teeth on this tour so you've got to make the most of them when they rare their heads.

Last night all hands had the opportunity to sleep in a real bed; one that was, get this, stationary. Yeah, a bed in a room all to yourself that was not contained in a metal tube hurtling down the highway. I went to bed at 11:00 and got up at 11:00.

That said, we are creatures of habit. At 8:30 last night there were seven of us jammed on the bus draped around the front lounge watching the Habs/Bolts game on the digital satellite TV. The Habs came up short, but we had a cool few hours gabbing and watching the game. It is one of the less spoken of fringe benefits of playing in a touring band. Having the facility to get six or seven buddies on a flash bus parked in the middle of a foreign city, lying on the floor watching a hockey game. Most hockey fans I know would save for a year for such a trip and it happens to us incidentally. Great laugh.

Tough to arrange such a scenario if you do anything else for a living.

Big week ahead.

Cheers
Alan

March 15, 2006
Tour Diary London, Ontario
Hockey Dressing Room


I'm sitting in the home of the reigning Memorial Cup Champs, the London Knights. Remember? They won a zillion games in a row off the top of the season last year and then went on to win the Cup as the host team. It was the talk of the hockey world as the NHL was on strike for a year. Very cool.

Ann Arbor definitely does not suck. I made a comment in the show last night that there exists in my mind a list of places that is divided into two distinct groups; those that suck and those that do not suck. Ann Arbor is firmly in the 'does not suck' category. It is a beautiful college town with historic buildings, many restaurants, coffee shops, and book stores etc. It is a great spot to walk around on a day off. As a traveling musician, it is an oasis in the Folk world, where traditional and folk songs do not take their usual backseat to Pop and Rock tunes of the day.

Please forgive my political correctness as I refrain from naming towns that lie firmly in the 'those that suck' category. My Mom says that if I've got nothing good to say, I should say nothing at all. I am not about to start pissing off Mom.

On a tour of mostly theatres and clubs, tonight is our only foray in Rink Rock. The second set should be particularly over the top tonight. I plan on watching the Queen set from Live Aid, along with excerpts of U2's show from the Fleet Center in Boston a couple of tours ago, and at least two AC/DC live videos, in the hour before the show tonight.

Channeling Freddie, Bono, and Angus. Rink Rock.

Beware the ides of March.

Cheers
Alan

March 19, 2006
Tour Diary Montreal, Quebec
Hotel Room

Whew. What a flurry of activity since the grand night in the Rink in London. The bus rolled to Toronto for the double header at the Carlu Theatre. We arrived at around noon and started doing press. This continued till just before our scheduled 6pm sound-check. We got our first look at the ’theatre‘ as we walked onto the stage. As it turns out, the Carlu is not a theater at all, but rather a ballroom with a balcony. As the staff laid out metal chairs for apparently the first time, the place started to look and sound more and more like a high school gym.

I did not dig it at all.

We got to the hotel at Midnight and I got to sleep at about 2am. We had to play Canada AM in the morning. The alarm went off at 5:45am. I jumped up and ran to the shower. Just as the water came around to the right temperature, the cell phone started ringing. Shite! I jumped out and ran dripping across the hotel room, grabbed the phone and it slipped out of my wet hand and fell down behind the bed. I pulled the bed out and got the phone open just before the fifth ring.

"Hello"

No answer.

"Hello"

Shite. Forgot that I set my cell phone alarm clock.

By now I'm pretty cold and run back to the hot shower. I put some shampoo in my hair and I hear the hotel room phone start to ring. That will be the wake up call. I try to put it out of my mind but I suffer from the same ailment as many others that cannot ignore a ringing phone. I run to the phone and listen as some really pleasant sounding man is telling me the forecasted temperature.

My eyes covered in shampoo, I run to the door and throw it open to continue my shower. But something is not right. I can't see anything clearly, but it is the temperature that has changed so dramatically that causes me the greatest concern. As the blur quickly clears I realize that I am not in bathroom at all, but actually standing in the hallway of the hotel, about six feet from the elevator doors. Naked.

I spin round and get my hand in the room door just before it closes and just before the elevator door opens. Jesus. What a start to a day.

We were picked up at the hotel and taken to the CTV Canada AM house party. Turned out to be a great time. The hosts were great and the party was in full gear by the time we arrived. Jeff from the TV show was a star. He Celtic Rapped the weather as Sean laid down a fat bodhran beat. Well done Jeff.

Went back to the hotel and slept for a few hours and slept till early afternoon. A few changes were made to the seating arrangement at the gig during the afternoon which made the Friday show much better for all concerned.

Had a quick drink with Little Sis and few friends and hit the bunk later than I should have, but much earlier than I wanted to on a Paddy's Night. Had to save some pipes for Montreal.

The Olympia was a great theatre with a great crowd. There was a great Habs/Pens game on TV so I arranged the set so Kris could nip off every now and again to check the score. Great result at the theatre. We rocked the house. Not so for the Habs. They lost to Crosby et al 5-4

We went directly from the stage to Hurley's. The best pub in Montreal. I can give no further details of the evening in this forum.

As I type, the Paddy's Day Parade is rolling past the outside the hotel. It is the biggest I've ever seen, running the whole length of St. Catherine St.

Weary now. Must rest today. 10 shows in the next 11 days.

Cheers
Alan

March 26, 2006
Tour Diary Saint John, NB
Cora's Restaurant

The bus rolls ever East on this leg. Had a couple of good nights in Moncton and Fredericton, which included a return visit to El Loco Burrito, easily the best Mexican food in Canada. Carlos, the owner and chef is from Puerto Vallarta and married a lady from Fredericton and I guess he followed her home to set up shop. It is a must-do.

We definitely made a mistake planning the schedule on this run. I somehow forgot to insist on a day off after Halifax. As a result, I could not go for a pint in one of the best pub towns in the world. It nearly drove me crazy. I had to ask Sean to nail my hotel room door shut from the outside so I would not sneak out during the night. I could hear people reveling in the streets outside the hotel. I am in Hell!!

But with three or four gigs in a row after the Halifax dates, there is no room for a night out. The pipes just would not take the abuse. I’ll know better next time. Must have day off after Halifax.

It’s been a while since we played the Confederation Center in Charlottetown. I forgot what a great sounding room it is.

We had two completely different crowds in one room in Sydney. We had a great crowd of listeners who wanted to sit and enjoy a quiet theatre show, and another group of excited partiers who wanted us to blow their Saturday night minds. We were happy to have them both, but I got the impression each of them wished the other would go home.

We play the Imperial Theatre for the first time tonight. It might be the most beautiful theatre in Canada, and despite having played every other club, festival, and arena in this town, somehow we've never stepped on the stage at the Imperial.

Day off tomorrow. Well sort of. We roll after the show tonight and head to Halifax Airport for an early flight to Newfoundland. I know there’ll be chores awaiting.

Tried to go to my fav Saint John haunt, Reggie's, but it was full to the doors, so I strolled across the street to Cora’s, a breakfast chain that just moved into Atlantic Canada. There is one at home, but I have not checked it out yet. Turns out to be OK, but it is no Reggie's.
Cheers
Alan

April 20, 2006
Somewhere near Burlington
On the Bus

This bus ride is now entering its 12th hour. Everyone is awake and trying to occupy the front lounge of the bus. That’s nine guys trying to sit in eight seats. I am sitting in the middle of the worst game of grown up musical chairs. Those with seats are being seriously eyeballed by the dude who’s forced to stand up. I’ve had to pee for about 25 minutes, but there’s no way I’m giving up this seat. I do not feel like a Rock Star.

We are traveling through some beautiful country towns in Vermont, though. I suppose it could be way worse.

We spent the day yesterday on the campus of the State University of New York at Buffalo. It’s has beautiful campus buildings with parks and lawns surrounding a couple of lakes. There are groomed walking trails wandering through the endless academic, sports and arts facilities and the fit, well dressed students chat on cell phones and adjust their iPods as they wait for the Chai Soy Lattes at Starbucks. Wow, this is not what I remember from going to Memorial University of Newfoundland. Most of my friends were flat broke and stayed in beat up rental houses with nine guys fighting for eight seats. How far I’ve come.

In retrospect I really did not have much of a typical college experience. I had a great time during my university years but most of my fun was had in downtown St. John’s. I did not stay on campus, I did not go to a pile of frat type parties, and I hated the campus bar, the Breezeway, as it rarely had live music. I went to MUN from 9am till midnight, Monday to Thursday and 9 to noon on Fridays. With the possible exception of exams and the odd paper, I never cracked a book from end of class on Friday till Monday morning.

I worked Saturdays and Sundays and the odd Thursday night at the Newfoundland Museum and played in a band or solo in the pubs almost every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night. It was grand and ultimately the environment where I met Sean, Bob, and Darrell and GBS was born.

I wonder what I would have been like at Beta Phi Beta or one of those fraternity houses? Would I have left the dorm every night to go to the local pub and hang with the moody English profs? That’s what I did at MUN. Or would I have been the leader of the freshman hazing?

Just pulled into the parking lot by the gig in Burlington. Across the street there’s a sign that says "Al’s French Fries".

That’s got to be good karma.

Cheers

Alan

April 21, 2006
North Hampton, Mass. Tour Bus

Another day, another beautiful university campus. This must be my tenth trip to North Hampton, and I’ve somehow managed to miss the best part of the town till today. Sean and I went strolling up around the campus of Smith College, a liberal arts college for women. It has a lake and a park in the middle of the university campus which is surrounded by mature trees and old house that look like they should be featured in Better Homes and Gardens. I am starting to get bitter.

North Hampton is a great town to map the career path of GBS. We played at the Iron Horse a small folk club here in the late 90’s for about 60 people. We played that room at least four times till we sold out the 250 or so capacity. We fought and clawed our way to the bigger Rock club called Pearl Street. We played the small room downstairs till we stuffed the place and then we played upstairs till we stuffed that. Now after ten or eleven plays in this town we finally get to play the premiere venue, the Calvin Theatre. The long way to success.

Let’s hope slow and steady wins the race.

New York tomorrow. Yeha.

Cheers

Alan

April 24, 2006
Atlanta Hotel Room

Yes, that’s right! A hotel room! We’ve been on the bus since early Wednesday morning of last week and we finally have the opportunity to sleep in a real bed. It’s a fancy one, too, in downtown Atlanta. I’ve never really been here. GBS has played on a neighborhood of Atlanta known as the Little Five points four or five times and we’ve never managed to get downtown. I’m looking forward to a stroll around.

Well the sky must be going to fall or hell must have frozen over. On this tour GBS has played killer shows in Los Angeles and New York. Having slayed the El Ray Theatre in LA a few weeks back, we trumped ourselves with our best showing ever in Manhattan. (Cue the bragging music) The Town Hall is one of the premiere show rooms on Earth. The list of acts who have recently played sold out shows in this room include KD Lang, Elvis Costello, and Great Big Sea. Not bad company to be in, I suppose. We played as good as we know how on Saturday night in New York City. A performance like this is usually more likely to happen on a Tuesday night in Nowheresville, in front of 80 people at the two foot high corner stage of the Brew pub, while 60 other people eat wings and play pool and periodically glance at the stage between shots. On Saturday, we finally played our best in the best city in the world.

In true "Elvis has left the building" form, we loaded the bus right after the show and were driving out of New York while the applause was still ringing in the hall. We were all having a post gig high on the bus as we made our way through the streets with no names and our euphoria stayed with us into the next day.

The buzz was just starting to wear off when we rolled into Charlotte. We were in serious danger of losing the rush completely until we walked in the venue. The McGlohon Theatre at Spirit Square seems to be a former church. It is a beautiful building with huge stained glass windows with images of f holy dudes decorating the high brick walls. The stage sits where an altar once did, I assume, and it sticks right out into the congregation or audience in this case. It is easily one of the nicest places we've ever had the pleasure of singing.

Mike and Jared, two new friends from the area, took me and Bob golfing in the afternoon. I tried out a demo of a new TaylorMade driver. Holy shite. The head on it was as big as a paint can. Thanks to lads for letting a couple of Canadian hackers tag along.

We play the gig tonight and have tomorrow off. The band flies to Columbus on Wednesday, so we actually have two nights in a bed that does not move at 110 kilometers an hour. This room is really a suite with a kitchen and separate bedroom with nicer furniture than I will ever own. Whirlpool Jacuzzi, king size bed, 24 hour room service and all the bells and whistles.

Cheers

Alan

April 26, 2006
Delta Flight 805 Atlanta to Columbus

This is playoff hockey season. We have a digital satellite dish with a full NHL package on our tour bus. I am not just telling you this to give you a peek through the tour bus window. I am not telling you this to further portray the GBS cast as good Canuck puck crazy lads. I am telling you this because I feel obliged to warn those of you who plan to attend GBS shows in the next couple of weeks that your evening of Newfoundland song and dance may be affected by the playoff schedule.

Truth be told, some of you already have been affected by the post season excellence that is the NHL this year. We were ten minutes late getting back on stage in Atlanta as the Habs/Canes game was at a critical point. On another evening, an unnamed member of our band, was so angry at the progress of a game just previous to our second set, that he played his kick drum so hard that he broke the head or skin on drum. This unnamed cast member swears it is the first bass drum head he’s broken in over 15 years. OK it was Kris.

I am a hockey fan and have been for as long as I can remember. The rule changes in the NHL this year, (with the possible exception of the rule that limits the goalies’ playing of the puck and the automatic delay of game penalty when a defender shoots the puck and it goes over the glass, but I won’t go into the minutia of that discussion here) have made for the most exciting hockey I've ever seen. Not since I was a kid would I stay up to take in a regular season game on a Tuesday night in February, but this year the games have been great fun to watch. The rule changes have made for piles of lightning fast skating, great scoring chances, wicked hits, big saves; all the reasons why hockey is so awesome. I had a seven hour orgy of hockey watching in my hotel room last night. Saw every play from the drop of the puck in the Ottawa game to the final goal in overtime in the Oiler’s big win.

Two nights ago, in Atlanta we ran to the bus following our sets to watch Bonavista’s own Michael Ryder score the overtime winner to put the Habs up by two games over the Carolina Hurricanes. Joy. Oh Joy. Myself and MacFarlane actually wept. It’s been quite an amazing few days.

Oh yeah, the gigs were good too.

Alan

April 28, 2006
On the bus

Not off to a great start so far. When the bus came to a halt, I assumed we were parked near the gig in DC. I got dressed and came to the front of the bus to find nine dejected faces staring out across an asphalt ocean. There was no Nations Capital outside the window. Only tow trucks and semi’s met our sad gazes. We blew a tire this morning which caused a two hour delay and a trip to a repair yard. No chance for a stroll around the Whitehouse today. Bush will have to come to me I suppose.

We opened for Robert Earl Keen last night. I’ve been a fan of his for a long time. My brother Bern saw him a few months back in a songwriters circle with Lyle Lovett, John Hiatt, and Guy Clarke. I would have loved to have joined him. Robert is a songwriter’s songwriter. He seems completely unafraid to write about the tiniest or most sweeping topic. Very brave. We only got to hear a couple of tunes though, as we had to roll to DC.

Right now, we are stuck in traffic just outside Washington. Looks like we’ll be late for the 1pm load in. The crew guys are restless; the tour manager looks nervous; the band look just plain bored.

Yeha. Just pulled off the highway. The Lincoln monument appears out the passenger side window. There are Stately government buildings on the left, and a statue of Jose Somebody. Washington monument on the right, now, with the Whitehouse on the left.

No doubt about it, I am in the USA.

Big gig tonight. Rock on.

Alan

Oops, spoke too soon. Just got stopped by the cops. In the new security addicted world, it appears you are not allowed to tow a trailer in front of the Whitehouse. I hope we are not about to be searched in a most personal way. Our big blue and green bus, decorated with Newfoundland Tourism pictures of whales and icebergs is apparently a potential threat to National safety. I am the face of evil.

May 5th, 2006
AC Flight 690
Toronto-St. John’s

Habs lost a heart breaker in the extra period and were eliminated on Tuesday night. Other than the moment of disappointment for the GBS cast and crew who were rooting for the home team, when the Carolina's fluky OT goal banked in off the cross bar, we had a grand day and night out in Montreal. Before and after the game we went to Hurley’s for pints and predictions and post game analysis. Our old friend Liam was singing there. I have not seen him in quite some time and he still has the chops. I was yanked away and never got to say Hello, so I’ll do so here. Cheers Liam. Well sung as always.

Spoke to Chuck from Simple Plan for a while and he and the lads are getting ready to do their next CD with rock legend Bob Rock. Jaye, our light guy and Tony, our old tour manager work with Simple Plan and as Montreal is their home base, we all hooked up after the game to wallow. I met a couple Chuck’s band mates at the Junos. They seem like the finest kind of guys; all eager to make a career, not a weekend, playing music. Bonne Chance, lads.

Last three gigs went off without a hitch really. Great crowds in the halls and raving reviews from the press. Can’t do much better than that.

We all raised a jar after the last show on Friday night and had a little review of the tour. It turns out, that the run across North America since January has been our most successful tour to date.

Several quick facts

•highest percentage of attendance for GBS, over 95%.
•most sell-outs ever for GBS
•most tickets ever sold in one tour in the US for GBS

This would be an amazing result and these would be impressive numbers from a young hot band with a breaking single on Pop Radio. GBS is over 13 years old and we were touring a Traditional CD with no singles and no radio play in either country.

All I can say is, Thank You.

The tour is over and I'm off the road, but I'm not ready to stop writing here. I've been enjoying the release this forum gives me. I would like to change the title of this forum, as I'd like to write in it whenever I get the urge. Hope that's OK.

Stay tuned.

Cheers
Alan

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All of these entries can be found, with a bit of effort, "Behind The Maps" on the official GBS site here: The Hard And The Easy Tour Map/Journal Entries