Between The Rock And A Hard Place: Newfoundland, Great Big Sea, Alan Doyle, And Even Russell Crowe

"Every Mountain Has Its Faces"

There are those times when the song lyric used for the post title is so apt, it doesn't need any further clarification.

Two video clips from last night, the first show at the Somerville Theatre, finally uploaded after many attempts with a balky wireless connection, so balky that I just made sure my Ottawa hotel is wired.

Charlie Horse - Somerville 1

Boston & St. John's, "Original Three" Encore - Somerville 1

Working on getting Shines Right Through and the Somerville 1 Singalongs (including Blister In The Sun) uploaded, along with still trying valiantly (and so far with no success at all) at getting Sean's humongeous Sweet Forget Me Not (from Columbus) uploaded.

I'll write about both shows after tonight's show, or at least that's the plan. All I will say for now is that I thought Alan's response to the shrieking heckler who kept snarking about it not really being Glenn's birthday - "Shall we bring all the children up on the stage and you can tell them the truth about Santa Claus too?" - was superb to the point of making me want to hug him, pat him on the back, congratulate him, and brag about him. At least I get the chance to do the latter. Now that is how to treat a heckler, and damned if I couldn't hear echoes of Russell in Alan's manner, though no way Russell could  have said the same without the word "fuck" popping up a time or two or three.

As it was, I thought Alan handled it perfectly,with incisive wit and commendable class. Sean's "Who are you - the anti-birthday fairy?" wasn't too shabby of a response either, but it was Alan who played it as well as it can be played. Shut her right up too.

Now if only the twit security workers would throw drunk stage jumpers out on their arses, things would have been much smoother last night. Poor Bob.  Given the look on his face when that foolish young girl wound up dancing around him on stage, I won't be surprised if security resembles the Third Reich tonight. Even if it doesn't, at least I can rest assured that any stray loud-mouthed hecklers will be handled with utter poise and deadly confidence.

And even with all that, it was a far more reasonable crowd than I've come to expect at Boston shows. Call it Cambridge (as Alan seems determined to), call it Somerville...it's all still Boston.

Fifth consecutive show in a row for them tonight, and back to my same "claustrophobia" seat for me. Probably more hecklers and almost certainly more foolish drunks. And it will still be the best show around, the only show I choose to be at. The only show fronted by the man who handles hecklers even more adroitly than does Russell Crowe. He also pounds a mean guitar.

Come to think of it, he's something beautiful, too.

"Like True Newfoundlanders"

I'm stranded in Nashville
I'm a boy from Old Perlican
I went buskin' down Broadway
I made four bucks American
And I'm homesick and wishin'
I was still back home fishin'
But all of those times are gone
How strange to be in Tennessee
Singin' Newfoundland songs

I crossed over the border
'Neath the light from the stars
I had the luck of the Irish
I had my daddy's guitar
It was a Gibson J-45
Gonna keep me alive
And comfort me midnight till dawn
How strange to be in Tennessee
Singin' Newfoundland songs

I know it isn't Hank Williams
Tho' I can sing him as well
Sing Jimmie Rogers blue yodel
Sing Lefty Frizell

I'm a stranger here in Tennessee
I'm a boy from round the bay
Yeah, but I know how to sing, boys
I know how to play
Cause my daddy taught me
Taught me these words, Taught me these chords
Taught me before he passed on
How strange to be in Tennessee
Singin' Hard Hard Times
Singin' Kit on the Pond
Singin' Newfoundland songs

If there's one small consolation
Here in these desperate times
All these Nashville songwriters
Are all tryin' to look like Ron Hynes
How strange to be in Tennessee
Singin' Newfoundland songs - Ron Hynes , "Boy From Old Perlican"

This one is going to be hard to write, at least this first part. There were advantages to saying that it was because I was writing for a fan board that made me be less than honest about some things. For the one who made that "same review for the past year and a half" comment, I hope he knows that I change how I write for very few people, and that he is one of those very few.

The first time Great Big Sea played Nashville - at least, I think it was the first time - was during the spring 2003 tour with Carbon Leaf. The spring of 2003 was that brief, sweet interlude they themselves referred to on one of those recent podcasts as being a wonderful time of optimism and hope for GBS, when they felt like even with Darrell having left them, they would still be able to keep on being GBS, that they now had something very special with the five current band members, and that they would now be able to do and be whatever they wanted. That optimism and hope showed...this was the time when "Shines Right Through" was written about that very feeling, and it truly did shine through, brightly and clearly. It dazzled. This was the band I saw at the Exit/In on that warm spring night in Nashville. 

Of course, as they themselves say on that same podcast a few seconds later, that moment passed. I witnessed its passing during the shows in the summer of 2003.

The next time they played Nashville, once again at the Exit/In, was in the fall of 2003, one of the first shows on the ill-fated Cowboy Mouth tour. The show itself teetered precariously on the edge of debacle. Most of the crowd disappeared as soon as Cowboy Mouth left the stage, and except for a half-dozen or so of The Faithful, the twenty or so others who remained for GBS seemed quite unimpressed. There was little hope or optimism to be found anywhere on the Exit/In's premises that night, though Alan did a valiant job of keeping the show on the rails, putting on a rousing performance and demanding the same of the others on stage with him, in spite of all else that was going on, in spite of the indifference of most of those in the crowd and in spite of what had to be a realisation that they had just embarked on what was going to be a very rough road. And then there was the fool up front who thought that it might make those up on that stage feel like at least someone thought them important if she kept taking pictures of them.

The fool who went back to her Nashville hotel room after the show, logged onto her laptop, and read the FTR that she had not had time to read before the show, the FTR she instantly knew would be the gift that never stopped giving. The fool who spent the next day in Nashville - the day before the College Station, Texas, show - wandering down Nashville's Street Of Dreams, the same Broadway that Ron Hynes and so many others have busked their way along, struggling to make what she knew was going to be a lasting decision.

That was the same day Alan and Gordie Sampson wrote Walk On The Moon, Lucky Me, and Let It Go in that single afternoon songwriting session.

When my bus rolled into town last night at 7 pm, it was the first time I had been in Nashville since another bus had rolled out of that town in the fall of 2003 as I headed for Texas, my lasting decision made.

Nashville resonates with history for me in other ways. There was a fan I met at the first  Nashville show, a sweet girl I liked very much, who, by the time I saw her at the second Nashville show, was well on her way to becoming what I'll euphemistically call a "band girl," she and her friends having decided to do that which was required of them (or at least whatever they thought would be required of them) to work their way into that desperately-longed-for "in the entourage when we come to your backyard" status. I listened to them debate it all out, struggling to make their own lasting decision, at another show that took place between Nashville 1 and Nashville 2.

She's a little less of a sweet girl these days, too busy being cool and inside to be very sweet, though I do still like her, and it makes me sad that now when she stands up front at shows, she gets that "you aren't supposed to be up here anymore in the fan role if you want to hang with us in the band-girl role" look. Now she has her Temporary All-Access Pass stuck to her left tit, but the price she has paid for that access seems a high one to me- she's lost the joy of the music and the thrill of the performance. The first time I met her in Nashville, she was all in a breathless panic because she thought she would be too late in the lineup to be able to be up front by Alan. My husband and I made a space for her there, and we laughed at her relief and smiled when we saw how glad she was.

The last show I saw her at, she started out in the front, received her disapproving look from a crew member, and the last I saw of her, she was slinking around in the back by the sound booth, working on the logistics of the after-show activities, which now seem to be the real point of going to the shows. To each person their own lasting decisions, and I hope each person makes the decision that is best for them; but as for me, I miss that innocent fan I first met on a Nashville spring night in 2003.

I looked for her at Nashville this time, but didn't see her, though it looks as if the memory of her breathless panic and her heartfelt relief is going to haunt any and all future Nashville shows I see, restless ghosts walking 'neath the light of the Tennessee stars.

But I did wind up seeing a fellow who I had met at that post-first-Nashville College Station show, or, rather, was seen by him, since I didn't recall him at all, my memory of that show being blurred by the survivour-behaviour human coping response of forgetting much of that which is better forgotten. I  have never run into anyone from that godawful show before this - the very few people there for GBS's opener mostly passionately detested their opening act equally as much as they frantically adored Cowboy Mouth's headlining act; the GBS band members played that opening set as  if they were going to be taken out and shot immediately after wrapping it up; and I was still reeling from the expected aftereffects of that gift that was already well into the continuing-to-give process.

All I remembered about that show was hiding off to one side at a table  and watching maybe 5 or 6 people standing out on the floor while GBS played, I remembered drinking about four too many rum & Diet Cokes, and I remembered talking to some local fellow and his displaced Newfoundlander buddy about football versus hockey. Hello, local fellow and hello, displaced Newfoundlander buddy at this third Nashville show, and though I would never have recognised either of them on my own, as soon as they nudged the memory, it all came back, whether I wanted it coming back or not, past again colliding with present.

The show itself, this Nashville show, the one in the present, their opening part of it, was swift and intense, as much music as they could possibly fit into the 45 minutes they had been allotted this time in Nashville. Their song choice was interesting, mostly "the hits" from years past (not a choice I agree with), with only one song from the new CD (Charlie Horse). Better was the inclusion of two of their best originals, Something Beautiful and When I Am King, both of which worked well to show their musical versatility. I don't take notes at shows anymore (a concession to the Distraction Factor problem), so the order might be off here, but this is more or less what they chose to play in Nashville:

recorded GBS Hove In Long Beach intro
Captain Kidd
Donkey Riding
When I'm Up
Something Beautiful
Charlie Horse
Lukey
Paddy Murphy
When I Am King
General Taylor
Scolding Wife
Helmethead
Consequence Free
Mari Mac
Ordinary Day

The cluster of GBS fans up front cheered the loudest for the usual suspects. As for those standing farther back with the bemused looks on their faces, I saw the most response to Lukey, Something Beautiful, When I Am King, Consequence Free and Ordinary Day. Nashville is a songwriters' town, and those there to see the headliner had come to see a fellow known as a very good wordsmith, so it didn't surprise me much which songs the "new people" reacted most to. I knew there was not a snowball's chance in hell it would happen, but I hoped for Let It Go all set long. There aren't many times I will come out and say "they should have done that song," but this is one of those times. They should have done that song, and introduced it as having been written there. I also kept hoping against hope to hear "Kit On The Pond," for Ron's sake.

Their performance itself was a little strained, I think in large part because they were trying to squeeze in as many songs in as possible at such a breakneck pace, and maybe even more because of how hard it is to change gears and play the Unknown Opener role in the middle of a months-long Evening-With-GBS tour, though once again Alan made a valiant effort to keep it all going, and this time he was helped by Bob, who did not look like he would rather be elsewhere for this show.

Facing a sparse crowd whose attention was far from being ready to focus on much more than grabbing a drink and socialising with friends is not the easiest of atmospheres in which to introduce yourself and your music, but as much of a challenge as it has to be at times, I love seeing GBS as the opener for crowds who have never heard them before. I love watching people hearing them for the very first time, seeing that look of wonder in the eyes of those who are touched and moved and delighted by their music and the way they perform it.

Playing these kinds of shows may not often fall within the parameters of "best business decisions" these days, not given the amount of money to be made at big festivals where they are a main draw and at shows aimed at the already-converted, but they are still going to be the shows that make the greatest impression on me, the shows where the magic they create is in its purest and sweetest and most innocent form, where no one is yet scheming to work their way "inside" and no one is yet expecting the band to provide them with their "happy fix". When it is all brand new, it does still shine right through, and I love the warmth and the brightness of that light, especially when I see it reflected in Alan's eyes.

After GBS left the stage, before Robert Earl Keen came on, I made like a "normal" GBS fan and promptly exited the premises (the difference being that I, unlike nearly all the others, came back in a bit to hear the other performer), heading out to grab a bite to eat, and then to take another walk down Nashville's Boulevard of Busking. I had two songs on my mind and my lips, Ron's Old Perlican, and Alan's Wallk Om The Moon, singing Newfoundland songs on Tennessee streets. I had the memory of the past and the worry of the present. And I had the hope of the future as well.

By the time I got back to the venue, their tour bus was loaded and gone, as were their fans. Robert Earl Keen was playing to his own enthusiastic fans. I stood back by the merch table, in the now-vacated area where Glenn had been set up with GBS's merch, watching the show, and a few people came up to me, asking about GBS, curious if they would be coming out and meeting with any fans, wondering if there were any CDs to buy, asking where were they from and what kind of music it was that they were playing.

I know the band has a very long haul to get to the next show in D.C. - long enough that when I decided to come back to Nashville to see this show, that meant I'd be skipping D.C. myself and heading straight to Boston later today - but I wish they'd stayed long enough to talk to some of these people. They gave up a day off to play this show, and for all that it was another sparse crowd during their time on stage - and a crowd that seemed a bit bemused by their music - they played that show well, and they caught the attention of some of those there in Nashville who were hearing them for the first time. I hope they know that. As hard as they work, they should always know when that hard work has paid off.

But then, chances are, those whose attention was caught will be back again, come Nashville 4, or College Station 2, or somewhere else down the road. My own moment of optimism and hope is nowhere near passing. I want Nashville to be the city Alan writes his Juno Songwriter Of The Year award-winning song in. I want to see Alan walk on the moon, and Nashville seems like a prime launching spot for that expedition. I want to hear more Newfoundland songs sung in Tennessee.

That was Nashville last night, the third show here in this town, third time thinking about how strange it was to be hearing Newfoundland songs in this place, hearing the same songs while the past and present were getting all tangled up with each other, what was and what is, what could have been and what might possibly be. If it's true that the third time is a charm, I'm wondering just what spell it is that might be cast with that charm, just what kind of magic might be there for the making and what new history lessons might lie ahead for the learning.

"The Loudest Thing I Ever Heard"

I'll come back here in a bit to write about tonight's Nashville show, but there's something I want to say that needs to be in a separate entry, so, as Ron Hynes puts it so well, too many words don't get in the way.

As far as I'm concerned, any person who reads this blog is free to save/download/share anything they find here with anyone they choose. It's nice to get credit for photos, videos, and especially written words, and I do respectfully request that, but if it doesn't happen, such is life. Once you put something online, there's not a whole lot of control over where it might wind up.

However, one place I very much prefer that my words, photos, or videos not wind up, directly or via linking, is on the OKP, the message board of the Great Big Sea web site, at least for so long as that message board is being run by The Official Community Corporation. I want what I put here, especially what I write here, to be completely separate and removed from the OKP, and I'm asking that this request please be respected. 

This request is in no way a criticism of any of the people who enjoy that message board and post there, nor is it a criticism of the band members, at least not a criticism that goes beyond their choice in employees. Again, I know this isn't something I can control, but if I do find out that what I put here has been linked on the OKP, I will ask that any such link be removed. Any other place people want to share links with this blog is fine with me.

Thanks in advance to any and all who understand and/or respect this request, and my apologies for not having said this sooner. This is going to be all I have to say on this subject; time to move on to more pleasant topics...back soon with a word or two or three or more about how strange it is to be in Tennessee, hearing them sing Newfoundland songs. And how they kind of shot themselves in the foot tonight.

"Just Like The Moon Across The Sky"

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. - Alan's April 26th FTR

When one finds oneself in a posh hotel room, a hotel room that comes complete with all those bells and whistles - including that jacuzzi - a well-deserved-day-off "orgy of hockey" is a reasonable outcome to expect. Since I caught only two of those hockey games in my own hotel room, I suppose mine was merely a "menage a trois of hockey". With no jacuzzi, alas. 

My connection has been struggling tonight, so there was time to upload only one file from this last show. Much more to come later, including a (frigging huge, which is why the wait) video clip of Sean singing the sweetest of Sweet Forget-Me-Nots, along with more of the King's hot guitar hand and also my first attempt at recording Come And I Will Sing You. If I manage to get any of this uploaded before I have to check out, I'll edit it in here, but I think most of these clips will have to wait until after the Nashville show, or maybe even wait until I get to Boston.

Once I realised that upload time was going to be of the essence tonight, I decided this was the clip for today, the best choice for an "on the way to Nashville" clip. It's a bit blurry (one of these days I will learn that my camera does not like to be rushed when it comes to focusing), but not so much so that the sweetest face to be found on any stage cannot be seen, as well as there being a sufficiently clear view of how the man with that sweet face is putting on a performance that is warming the hearts and loosening up the vocal cords (and did some of those cords ever need the loosening) of this audience, same as he does with all of his audiences.  Watching him blazing his self-determined trajectory across the stage, seeing him shining brightly in the reflected glow of the smiling faces of the crowd, was enough to, well, it was enough to make me forget to focus properly as I tried to track that blazing trajectory. Talk about shouting out too soon.

Without further ado, here is the man who led his band and his crowd in what would be a very sweet show in a sold-out-to-the-doors gloriously beautiful old theatre (they have come a long way from Little Brothers). Here is the best performer and the sweetest face to be found at the biggest  and best kitchen party ever held in Columbus, Ohio :

Singalongs & Sweet Faces - Southern Theatre, Columbus

Editing in one more, since Alan the Rock & Roll Guitar God was just uploaded smoothly and swiftly:

When Alan Is Rock King - Southern Theatre, Columbus

I have already missed my early bus, so I'll try now to get the Come And I Will Sing you clip uploaded before I go. Sweet Forget-Me-Not - somehow it seems so appropriate that this file is too large for me to properly upload - is going to take all of some future night; once again, the aptness of that metaphor of the inherent desirablity of the small, swift boat.

They did well in Columbus, especially on a night where Sean would say he was suffering from a bit of the flu (though he would be helped in getting through the evening by Bob's personal drug stash). It wound up being an easy-going and relaxed show, one that felt as if it were being shared among friends, and one with no shortage of sweet foolishness. Probably the funniest moment of this show was when Alan and Sean were off on a wandering post-Mermaid tangent, discussing possible creature/lady combinations other than the one found in the song, and Sean came up with the notion of a bear/woman combination. "Girl on the bottom, polar bear on the top?" Alan pondered thoughtfully. "We're from Canada, so we're alright with that sort of thing," was Sean's liberal-minded reply. Then there was that long list of other animals/insects/etc. that might be as likely, or even more likely, to be falling through the ice, thus inspiring their own genre of songs about such misfortunes - Alan's suggestion of elephants made eminent sense, though Sean's spider suggestion seemed rather dubious.

For a fellow who was feeling under the weather, Sean put on quite a show in his own right, not onlyw with his moving Sweet Forget-Me-Not and all of his other "lead" songs, but even more so with how he continued carrying his share of the onstage crowd interaction. All during this tour, Sean has stepped up when it comes both the the humourous banter and also to such things as song intros and segues. Not that he hasn't done these things in the past, but in all the time I've been seeing GBS shows, it's looked like he did these things based largely on his mood of the evening...if he felt like being participatory, he was, and if he did not feel like it, he wasn't. This tour he has been there right beside Alan metaphorically as much as literally, carrying his part of the interchanges and exchanges regardless of how he might feel on any given night, even a night such as this one, where he admittedly did not feel particularly great. Given how gruelling this whole tour has been, given what a toll is has to be taking on Alan's pipes and on his endurance, what Sean's done this tour has been crucial to the success of these shows, and he deserves a huge amount of credit and respect for for having the discipline and commitment to step up the way he has at each show. As much as I love what Alan does on stage all on his own, what he and Sean create together is priceless, and almost always hilarious, in its own right.

Columbus was not only funny, it was also quite touching at times. The single most touching moment in this show was one that requires a bit of "insider" knowledge for full appreciation: When Alan went so far out of his way to make sure that the adorable little red-haired girl a few rows back got his guitar pick (Alan has become a man whose heart is owned by adorable little girls these days, and there is no way for me to adequately describe just how touching and endearing that sight has been), little did he know that he had just generously given that gift to the great-granddaughter of a  lovely woman whose own evening he had made wonderful during a show in Indianaopolis a few years ago, when he just as sweetly leaned forward and gave that delighted octogenarian a gallant kiss on the cheek.

Columbus was good...the kind of show that leaves those lucky enough to be there to see it with glad smiles and happy memories, more the kind of show that warms the heart rather than overpowers the senses. It was also a very good show for seeing some people I always enjoy sharing shows with, those already known and those newly met. And now it is time to head to Nashville. Even with all of the grand music tradition and history of that town, these days I tend to think of Nashville as "the town where Alan and Gordie wrote those three wonderful songs." The town where my favourite songwriter came fully into his own. I like Nashville.

And all the way along the road to Nashville, I am going to be wondering if any of Alan's orgiastic hockey glee took place while he was in that jacuzzi. I am looking forward to a most enjoyable bus ride.

"Turn Your Face To The Sky"

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. - Alan's April 24th FTR

Yes they did, not a bit of doubt about it. Here are a few more glimpses of what their Big-Apple-best sounded and looked like.

Singalongs/Sean Adjusts Alan's Equipment - Town Hall, New York City

River Driver - Town Hall, New York City

Fortune, full-stage view - Town Hall, New York City

(Editing in this note: Whenever I've made mistakes with the links, please feel free to let me know - I can use all the help I can get with this. All three videos are now up and properly linked, I hope.)

The singalong clip includes Sweet Dreams, Phantom, and Summer of '69, and best of all a special moment between Alan, Sean, and Alan's mic (the "adjusting Alan's equipment" part of it). The River Driver clip gives an idea of how the sound of their voices - and Alan and Murray sound particularly spectacular here - carries up to the high reaches of the venue, and also of the intensity with which Alan performs this song. The Fortune clip is recorded without any zoom, so it shows the real distance to the stage and how it actually looks to those up in the balcony (in the front of the balcony at least). It also shows how they all play across the whole stage during this song (especially Sean, who is everywhere), and a little of how the crowd reacts. First time for me seeing all of this during Fortune, though I will confess that even while recording it all, my eyes were still focused on that well-pounded guitar during the performance. Nice to be able to see all the rest of it later on video.

Things have their own way of working out at times. I had originally planned to steer clear of New York this tour. I knew I wanted to go to Charlotte to see that venue and because there are Charlotte people I always enjoy seeing, and the bus ride from New York to Charlotte looked to be a pain in the ass. Add in troubles that caused me to miss out on the start of the Town Hall ticket sale, and that seemed to clinch it: No bites off the Big Apple for me this time around.

Then someone offered me an intriguing ticket for this show: Front row, dead centre of the mezzanine, some 35 feet from the stage, with an on-high view that would encompass all of the stage and most of the crowd on the main floor. It was a vantage point I'd never had for a GBS show, and I couldn't resist it. The ride to Charlotte would still suck - and not in the good way - but I'd deal with that after the Town Hall show. It all got even better when those two kind friends decided I could use some company for this show.

Little did I know how fortunate a decision I'd made. I've seen a few of those previous LA and MYC shows Alan refers to in this FTR, and I've also seen some of those deadly nights in Nowheresville, the nights where everything comes together perfectly and they are quite simply unstoppable; the nights where Alan is incomparable. I was there for the El Rey Slaying - I saw how they finally kicked ass and took no prisoners this time around in LA. It never occurred to me that they would do even better in NYC.

When the bragging music is played, let it run for a bit. They've earned it.

Actually, they've earned it three times over. The past three shows I've seen (Northampton, New York, and Charlotte) have all been coming very near that gold standard of them being their very best, which is even more impressive when you consider they are nearing the end of a gruelling tour - currently on their third tour leg, and those three shows were the third, fourth, and fifth consecutive shows in a six-straight-show run. Here's hoping things went just as well in Atlanta.

They have made some impressive strides. In Northampton, they worked their way up over the years to the top-of-the-line venue in the Calvin, and they sold out that leading venue this tour. In Charlotte, playing what is only their fourth time ever in that city, they performed in one of the most beautiful and classy places to be found (even if Alan's saying "arse" in front of all those holy stained-glass dudes did cause him a bit of trepidation), and they sold out that beautiful and classy place this tour. In New York City - "the best city in the world" - they played in the heart of that best city, right off Times Square and Broadway, in one of the "premiere show rooms on Earth" (when he says it far better than I could, you bet I am going to quote him) and they sold out that premiere room this tour.

They have a great deal to be proud of, and they give great cause for others to be proud of them. What I like the best about all of this is that tone in Alan's FTR, that endearing combination of boastful pride and abashed humility: Holy shite, we kicked arse in New York City! He knew it while still on stage; from my excellent vantage point on high, I could see that much clearly at the end of Old Brown's Daughter as he stood there blowing kisses to the cheering crowd, his face a beguiling mixture of confidence and awe, contradiction cheerfully co-existing on a foundation of utter delight. At that moment, I was so fond of NYC for putting such a look on his face that I almost joined in with the cheer for the Rangers, which is saying a great deal about how very much I loved seeing that look.

On a related note, it's interesting that so many other top acts have played their own smashingly successful sold-out gigs at the Town Hall, especially Elvis Costello, since there was a time recently when Alan was in even closer company with Elvis, a night when the two of them, along with Russell Crowe, shared the same stage at the same time, with that predictably "smashingly successful" result.

There was quite an impressive array of performance power on that little stage at the Vanguard in Sydney on that Australian summer night. And there was never any doubt in my mind which one of those luminaries was shining most brightly in that impressive on-stage array. It's the same for me when it comes to every one of those Nowheresville stages as well. And also on the stage of one of the premiere show rooms on Earth, when he is doing his very best in that best of all cities.

One last note before heading off to bed, actually a quote-and-note:

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.

I confess...after reading this FTR right before heading out of Charlotte on the bus yesterday, thoughts of that Whirlpool Jacuzzi and its occupant were on my mind all night long, all the way to Columbus. I expect those same thoughts will be travelling on to Nashville with me too. It sure does make those long bus rides go by more quickly.   

"Give The Sun A Chance To Find You"

First things first, as always. Two video clips for downloading from the Town Hall show in New York. how it looked and sounded from the front of the balcony. First up is Electric Alan and his hot guitar hand on When I Am King: 

Alan the Rock And Roll King, Town Hall, New York

A momentary pause while I mention how much I love the way Great Big Sea's lead guitarist plays, best of all when he shows that hot hand on stage in New York City.

A bit more of that which was wonderful at the Town Hall. This is the show-closing Old Brown's Daughter:

Old Brown's Daughter, Town Hall, New York

This one is almost, but not quite, as breathtaking as the one last night in Charlotte, though my own proximity last night could have had something to do with the loss of breath.

I am, as always, short of time, not a bus deadline this time, but a room checkout. No bus deadline for me today, since I've decided to skip the Atlanta show and make my leisurely way to Columbus instead; it will be nice to have that leisurely day for travel after that "just barely made it" run down from New York to Charlotte yesterday. I  left NY at 3:45 am and got into Charlotte at 7:20 pm - and made it to the (absolutely beautiful) McGlohon Theatre by 7:50, which is about as close as you can cut it. "Leisurely" sounds rather nice today.

Not that it was an easy decision to skip the Atlanta show: I love that venue and the Little Five Points area, and past shows there have all been great. But I am in serious danger of losing my precarious foothold on Middle Ground, and that means it is time for a show to be skipped. I hope all have a wonderful time in Atlanta, and that those who most need that next day off will have an even better time then. I'm planning on doing some bus-window Springtime In Tennessee sightseeing for the next day or so. 

It's been an interesting past few days. One of the most fundamental lessons I was taught growing up is that the more something hurts, the greater the chance that there's something important to be learned. And also that the more we are hurt, the more deeply we appreciate the good things that come our way. I'll add my own personal lesson on to that foundation: There are times when all it takes is one sweet smile to make all the rest of it worth it.

Northampton to New York to Charlotte...good times spent with friends kind enough (and persuadable enough) not to let me wander around NY all by myself, and then in the midst of those good times getting the metaphorical slap in the face by (apparently former) friends determined to avoid me at all costs. Interesting times, indeed. Lesson-learning times. And most definitely times that make that which is good something to be held very dear.

Sitting in Connolly's Pub on a rainy whatever-day-of-the week it was, while being studiously ignored by most (not all - kudos to that brave soul who tries to bridge all chasms) of those sitting at a nearby table with a person who sees fit to openly and repeatedly refer to me publicly as a "psycho"...yes, that hurt. I know you aren't supposed to admit when people hurt you, since that's usually what at least some of them are trying to do, but I've never been very good at hiding how I feel, happy or sad, wounded or devoted.

It's one thing to be thought badly of, or even to be lied about, by those whom I in turn hold in low esteem - actually, it's a bit of a relief to be disliked by some, since to have their approval would make me seriously question my own course of action, and the fact that they are the sort to resort to lies is part and parcel of that "held in low esteem" assessment - but when it happens with people I really do like, people who have been friendly in the past...it hurts. Some have commented to me about how much what I've been doing over the past few years must cost, and asked how can I possibly think it is worth such a high price. What most don't realise is that the true cost is measured in human terms, and a lost friendship makes for a very expensive afternoon. And, yes, there are times that the cost is dear enough to make me wonder about what it would be like to be free of it, which is likely the goal of some of those who engineer such costly circumstances.

This is what I was thinking on that rainy New York afternoon, thoughtfully sipping my Guinness and trying to work my way through whatever lesson it is I was supposed to be learning in all of this. At that moment, one of those kind and persuadable friends burst back into the pub, soaking wet, grinning from ear to ear, triumphantly holding my cell phone, the misplaced-by-me cell phone he had gone out into the rain to find. The other kind and persuadable friend laughed, raised her pint and congratulated him.

In a rush, it suddenly hit me: All of this - the sour epithet-spewer, the once-and-former friends, the brave chasm-bridger, the soggy cell-phone rescuer, the cheering congratulator, even the Guinness and the rainy New York afternoon - were a part of my life today because of a moment five years earlier when I stumbled across that wonderful songwriter on a CBC television show; all these things were equal parts of the same experience. And then there is all their wonderful music and the great performances by the man who does it all better than anyone else can.  To be free from the parts of this experience that have been painful would mean to lose those parts that are worth more than I could possibly bear to give up. That is a cost far too dear for the paying.

At the end of the day, when all of the credits and debits are reconciled, when all of the hurt and the happiness, the pain and sorrow, the lies and the truth, the cruelty and the kindness, the wonderful and the terrible - the hard and the easy - are measured against one another, there's no doubt that what has been gained is immeasurably more valuable than any cost paid. As with the cost, the gain is also measured in human terms; the worth of the gift of a moment of kindness from a loyal friend is priceless.

That sweet smile alone would have made, will always make, it all worth it. To find friends along the way as well, now there is a positive cost-benefit ratio. Very lucky me.

More about the shows later, as well as the other video clip links once I get them uploaded, and I will post the comments and respond too. I have read them, and appreciate them very much, but if I take the time to answer them now, I will be paying another cost: A second day's hotel bill.

"The World Will Sing"

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. - Alan's FTR from Northampton

I have next to no time to write - I've got two other people ready to head out the door to NYC, both waiting for me to get my arse offline, pack up the laptop, and get on the road with them. But since I won't be back online until sometime after the Charlotte show, I couldn't wait that long before saying a hurried word or two about the Northamptom show.

I haven't seen every show this tour, so no blanket statements from me, but I can (and will) say that the show at the Calvin Theatre last night was one of the best, maybe the best, of the shows on this tour so far. There were two reasons for that: First, everyone on stage was there to play and to perform, all show long, managing to create that rare and wonderful atmosphere that combines energy, concentration, poise, and, maybe most important of all, a sense of fun shared among all the players. Then there was the second reason that made this show so excellent in my opinion: Alan was  in full Rock Star mode, including a sizzling lead solo on WIAK and a priceless bit of AC/DC T.N.T guitar work, part of which I managed to catch, once I stopped screaming in delight and remembered the existence of the camera.

Alan The Rock Star, Doing A Little AC/DC

He may not be able to pee at will when on the tour bus, but he certainly kicked some serious ass at will on the stage last night.  Talk about "sucking in the good way," though his own use of that phrase was in a bit different of a context.

It wound up being a fast and furious,  a funny and stirring show, a show worthy of being the culmination of all those years of working their way up the venue ladder here in Northampton ("North Hampton" to Alan, and I think his way of spelling it makes much more sense).  There was much silly talk, most of it centering around Alan and Sean's pleasure trip over to Smith College ("Smitten College" to Sean, a place where there are no men and "you and I have a chance, Alan"). There were impromptu song snippets, including a wonderful bit of them all doing Abba's "Take A Chance On Me" (since ABBA is, unlike U2 and the Beatles, one of the very few bands that do not suck as a result of their unfortunate Bob-less condition) and a bit of The Banana Boat Song (the "Day-O" song - think Harry Belafonte) as a result of chat about Sean's new hempwear clothing (though the outfit he was wearing looked rather familar to me, except for those spiffy new shoes).

Sean was all over the stage during this show, dancing, spinning, leaping, taking swipes at Kris's congas the first set, at his drum kit the second set, and doing his own bit of prodigious guitar-pounding. After a long series of shows that were more or less otherwise, Bob put on a winning performance that lasted from the first song until the last, and that made a huge difference in the overall impact of the show. Murray and Kris didn't seem off in their own little Land Of The Non-Original Three at this show - this time around, it felt like there were five men on stage, all of them part of the same process and working toward the same goal. Again, it made a big difference in the power of the performance.

And Alan? Alan was magnificent, no other word suffices. He may (he does) do the folk/trad tunes as well or better than anyone else can, but no one is ever going to convince me that he is not a man who has a Rock And Roll heart. He is always going to be the Rock Star to me, King of those Rock Stars, as a matter of fact.

Really, really, really time for me to leave. My first spin around Times Square lies ahead. So enough words, more visual aids. Here's my first attempt at recording the whirlwind that is them doing Fortune (if the venue lets me use the camera tonight, I am going to try this again from my seat up in the first row of the mezzanine, which might give a better perspective on how this one plays on stage):

Fortune, Calvin Theatre, North Hampton

I also recorded a gorgeous Alan-only Excursion, but I need time to rotate Alan from a vertical into a horizontal position. Hard to tell how long that will take, and I might need another pair or two of helping hands to get him into that horizontal position. But when it's finished, wait till you see the arse-fondle Kris gives Alan in response to his waggling invite. My envy of that little drummer boy grows apace. But at least I did manage to preserve this lovely little breath-catching moment for posterior posterity.

Editing this in:  Thanks to a consummately helpful second pair of hands, Alan has been properly positioned and efficiently uploaded, and Kris's appreciation for the "Best Seat in the House" is now available for viewing pleasure:

Alan's arse takes an Excursion, Calvin Theatre

"Anything Worth Having"

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. - Alan's FTR for today

He may not feel like that Rock Star at times on the tour bus, but on stage it is a different story...to quote the song, "I know without a doubt that it comes from you."

It's very late at the end of a long "day". I haven't slept in a bed since Tuesday morning, and the hotel bed is over there waiting for me. There's a lot I could say about tonight's show in Burlington, another show that had its mixed elements of struggle and success - the show I spent so much time travelling to see - and I may say some of those things in the morning, if I wake up early enough before checkout time, pie-for-breakfast time, and time to head out on the road to Northampton.

For now, I will say only those things that most need to be said, then I will let someone else say the rest, since he can say it all in a far better way than I could ever say it myself. There are times that I work hard to get to a show, even when other circumstances whisper in my ear to skip this one; Burlington was one of those shows. And, same as with the other times this has happened, when I finally get to where I'm going, I always find my reason for being there.

I would have travelled those 15 hours today simply to see Alan play all of his stringed instruments, but I already knew that. I will always gladly travel to see Alan play; that's a continuing truth. An unexpected truth would be the young lady I wound up next to tonight who is writing her senior thesis about GBS and their influence on folk music; that wound up being one of the best during-the-show conversations I've had in a while, and one that I hope will continue on long past today. Talking to her, and watching Alan make music with his hands, his face, his body, and most of all his heart, would have been more than enough for me, this night or any other night. Getting the bonus of Jolly Rovin' Tar (subbed for Gideon Brown) and especially John Barbour (subbed for General Taylor) added to that "more than enough for me" assessment. Add in singalong bits from Manfred Mann (Doo Wah Diddy), Queen (We Are The Champions), and Roger Miller (the aptly chosen King Of The Road) along with the already-much-loved Sweet Dreams, Video Killed, and Jesse's Girl, and it all seems more than enough for most anyone.

But there was still more, more than I'd hoped for, far more than enough to make that long road, or even a much longer road, worth the travelling. Tonight, Alan sang the song of his that has the firmest hold on my heart, the song of his that has gotten me through much longer and harder roads in the past. When he walked out for the second encore, I was expecting Old Brown's Daughter again, then when I saw he was alone and had his guitar, I looked closely at him and saw the look on his face and the self-conscious bounce in his step...and I knew what was coming. While he was playing the first few chords, I was scrambling for my camera, which I'd had tucked away all night in my attempt to be as unobtrusive and as inoffensive as possible. My trembling hands betrayed me as I fumbled to get the camera out and set, and I wound up missing Alan sing the first few lines of the song I love the most:

He was born a sailor's son
Nothing came easy or free

The rest can be found here:

Lucky Me, Higher Ground, Burlington

I couldn't see most of it while I was recording. As soon as the crowd began to cheer and sing along, I couldn't see much of anything through the tears. His song makes me cry and it makes me smile; it breaks my heart and it heals my heart. It makes me proud of him and worried for him, hope and fear all tangled up together. Most of all, it leaves me with a feeling of having been so fortunate - so lucky - to hear him sing it, and hear his crowd sing it back to him. May he always have that crowd singing his songs back to him, wherever he winds up travelling. I would travel to the moon, to see him walking on it.

But that trip is for a bit later. For now, the very short journey over to that bed in way overdue.

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Morning now, and editing in two very short snippets from last night, both of them partial clips because I kept putting away my camera in that attempt to be unobtrusive and inoffensive, then having to scramble to pull it back out again when they did something too cute for me to maintain my resolve.

Doo Wah Diddy, Higher Ground, Burlington

We Are The Champions, Higher Ground, Burlington

Sorry to say I didn't get King Of The Road. When Alan led off the pre-Run, Runaway singalong with "Trailers for sale or rent/Rooms to let, 50 cents/No pool, no phone, no pets/I ain't got no cigarettes" I was too busy enjoying hearing a song I've not heard in years to even think of the camera.

And instead of writing much more about this show - there is, after all, still that matter of pie for breakfast to take care of - I'm going to simply post the very few photos I did wind up taking at this show. Alan's face was a changeable as a late-spring St. John's day, moods and emotions sweeping across it, changing again and again from one moment to the next. I'd spent most of the show watching those changes, and when I finally kept the camera out for the last two songs (The Return Of Old Black Rum and Rant & Roar - it was not a "shushable" a capella Old Brown's Daughter kind of crowd in Burlington) I took a handful to try to catch a few of those fascinating chapters in the story there to be read on his face. Again, he tells it better than I can.

And because these photos are about all the different sides of Alan that he was showing at this show, I couldn't resist taking a few shots of one of his most appealing sides I'd been watching all night long from my Far-Side-Of-Murray vantage point. I was going to post just one of these, but my travelling companion, to whom I left the decision of which one to put up here, couldn't choose one over the other, seeing excellent points in both of them...and I had to agree.

There are times I do envy Kris his nightly view.

And now it's time for pie.

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Post-pie and a few more thoughts before heading out. First and most important, there was something I really should have said about the Buffalo show, since it was such a special moment. When it was time to start the pre-RRA singalongs, Alan strummed for a bit, a thoughtful look on his face..."I'm not sure what to play," he said. "Play whatever you want, Al," Sean urged. "Whatever I want?" Alan responded, with a twinkle in his eyes, and then that's just what he did - he played whatever he wanted. It's not often I get to hear Alan sing a Poison song, and what a perfect Poison song for him to choose.

We both lie silently still in the dead of the night
Although we both lie close together
We feel miles apart, inside
Was it somethin' I said or something I did
Did my words not come out right
Tho' I tried not to hurt you
Tho' I tried
But I guess that's why they say

Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn

Yea it does.

I love that song. A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet, still wound as deeply, and still be as beautiful.

Second note is about the crowd for the Burlington show. This was definitely a "back to the pub" show - the quintessential Old Black Rum kind of crowd - with all that makes those kind of shows good, and all that makes those kinds of shows shitty. I had the Venue's Most Loutish Drunk right behind me most the night, the kind of guy who is probably a decent enough fellow when sober, but a total pain in the arse when drunk - and this guy came to the show already three sheets to the wind. No surprise he spent most of the night screaming for "more drinking songs," at least when he wasn't repeatedly elbowing me in the head or even-more-repeatedly calling his girlfriend a "stupid cunt". The elbows I could put up with, but not the language, not when he was standing behind two pre-teen girls while he was using that language. Quite the contrast to the theatre-type venues on this tour.

On the other hand, there was that electric charge of energy that you get in this kind of show, though what wound up impressing me the most was how that noisy crowd was so thoroughly hushed by River Driver, and nearly as much so by John Barbour too. But what made me love every single member of that rowdy crowd - even foul-mouthed, pointy-elbowed, shit-faced buddy behind me - was when they cheered their noisy heads off when Alan sang the line, "Hey look at me in the spotlight..."

Now that is my kind of crowd, in the theatre or at the pub.

"The Hard And The Easy, We Takes As It Comes"

Toronto Bus Terminal
Someone I care about died yesterday morning. He was a sweet man, surrogate father to the otherwise-orphaned, kind and generous and always ready with a word of encouragement for others, even all the way up to the end, when he was weary of pain and telling us all that he was ready to let go. I'm glad for his sake that he got some small measure of control at the very end of his life. For my own sake, from the moment I got the call on my cell phone as the bus rolled through Niagara Falls on its way to Buffalo, the sun was shining a little less brightly. I am going to miss that sweet man, along with all the others who are missed. I will never cease to wonder why it is so many people are careless with those they love and with those who love them, given how precious loving and being loved is, and how impermanent and fleeting it can be.

It was a hard, long day today, from St. John's to Buffalo, and there is still a ways to go before the "day" is done. I nearly called my pie-loving friend to tell her I was skipping Burlington and would meet her in Northampton, but then I thought about that notion of those precious people who merit being treated with all due care. And now I'm on the road to Burlington, hoping for a bit less of the hard, a bit more of the easy, the rest of the way.

Not like I don't have some control over it all. Adding to the hard of today was my own mistake, the worst of all kind of mistake to make because it made something harder for one of those same precious ones, with nothing left for me to do but hang my head in chastened shame and hope to do better next time. Add in what was one of the most unpleasant border crossings ever - no clue what was in the minds of some of those Buffalo border guards, but they seemed intent on demeaning and deriding the "noncitizens" to the point of reducing a few to tears, not at all easy to see your country's officers behaving that way - and it all got even harder. Someone needs to tell Alan that while he could be King Of Anything - he certainly has my vote as King of Anything - to even joke about becoming President of how things here are now is a joke that's hard to laugh at, at least on a day like today.  He is far too precious to waste in that job.

But there is always at least some of the easy that comes along with the hard. My easy today was the sweet bell captain at a hotel near the venue (no names, since I don't want him to get in trouble), who kept my bags for free when my plan to leave those bags in a bus locker during the show went awry when I discovered Buffalo's Greyhound bus lockers no longer exist in this "too close to that nefarious Canadian border" post-911 world. He even offered to shuttle me up to the venue. His kindness made a hard day a little easier.

And then there was the show itself. No, GBS did not give me a "happy fix" that took my mind off  all my troubles. I walked out of the Center or The Arts feeling tired and sad, pretty much the same as I had felt walking in. But I did get to hear music I enjoy performed by men I admire, some of that performing being done by someone I think is the best at all he does on any given night, and that is always easy to take as it comes.

I'm not sure what to say about that show itself. I imagine many of those there will say it was a great show. It was a very good crowd, to be sure. I may have been hurting too badly to have much of an objective perspective - God knows my self-confessed personal affections make me never very objective in the first place - but to me, it looked like those on stage worked very hard to make it all look easy, especially that fellow who is a the core of my lack of objectivity.

I can come back and write more later, but for now, my next bus is due. Buffalo to Burlington via TO and Montreal...that is more the "odd" than it is the "hard". A quick apology to those who asked  for a video of Alan's WIAK. I tried, but I screwed it up. I'm very sorry for that.

Montreal Bus Terminal
Still on the way to Burlington, with just a few minutes taken durig my layover here to say one thing I should have already said in TO. Once it is said, the rest of my layover will be spent taking a walk in Montreal on a beautiful spring day. Even with the sun shining a bit less brightly, Montreal is still lovely enough today to put a smile on my face, even a lump in my throat. I will resist the ever-present urge to go stand by the Quebec City departure door. I am going to Burlington...the long way 'round. No doubt about my destination. That choice wasn't so hard to make.

What I neglected to say back in TO was that what was so clear last night in Buffalo is that even though he has to still be tired from all that has gone before in the past months, and even though he has to know - better than anyone else could possibly know - what a brutal final tour leg he has just begun (six straight shows, one day off, six more shows straight, one day off, then the final three shows), Alan's desire to be back out there on those stages, his drive and his need to play and to perform, is what makes him the single most compelling artist to be found - as well as to be admired and respected - out on any of those stages; that desire, drive, and need of his are, in my opinion, fundamental to GBS's power as a live band. For all of the jokes about "what would a band be without a Bob," my own spin on that would be that any band that has an Alan will also have passion and purpose.

Though I must admit I am also growing very fond of the sweet stability being provided these days by the fellow to Alan's left, the bouncy man with the charming little smile who looks more and more as if he is growing happier with the course of life each day.

Time for a springtime walk in Montreal, though I still miss the St. John's version of spring. Kind of.

"I Had A Dream I Was Moving Forward"

Taking a break from packing up (not quite last-minute...,my flight doesn't leave for four hours and I am nearly packed) to post a few more video clips and, more important, to post a very moving poem I read in today's Independent - my posting the latter is significant for two reasons: first, I'm not particularly fond of poetry in general, and it takes something very special about a poem for it to catch my eye and my mind, more so for it to catch my heart as well; second, the simple fact that there is an issue of the Independent within which it was possible for this poem to appear is cause for celebration, since this excellent newspaper has just been (appropriately enough given the proximity to Easter) raised from the dead.

Oh, yes, this poem is significant for another reason. It was written by Sean. Perhaps most signficant of all, this poem has the feel of the future, the feel of a possible future, running through it.

Stay
"Stay," you say so confident
These days are bound to change
But I fear for the "entitlement"
Determined to remain
After 50 years fair warning
To get ready for the flood
My ship is set for sailing
Like so many others should
To stay behind would be unfair
To my wife and family
For reckless, unrealistic dreams
Will never set us free
Free from fear and ignorance
That lead to poverty
Free to claim real independence
From political apathy
I do this for my country
I do this for my son
I do this to spite the blade
That would rather take my tongue
Than hear the truth fly from my heart
About how we were wrong
To sign away our nation
When we had just begun
So stay and keep your hand out
Your eyes down firmly cast
But don't forget the coming drought
The next cheque could be your last
I'll take my nod from Noah
And make ready for the rain
Keep an eye for higher ground
And a chance to start again
I'll sail my ship to safer ports
And with her flag unfurled
I'll plot a new and better course
And build a brave new world.  - Sean McCann

It takes a lot to silence me, even momentarily. This poem suffices.

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It may be a few days before I post here again, given the travel schedule, so here are a few more video links before heading out.

First up is that other LR SoNC, the one from the first St. John's show where "everything shines" refers to Sean's head.

LR SoNC, first St. John's show - "Light-headed" Sean version

The second one is very short, and because it was so impromptu, I had to scramble to catch part of it on video. so the focus sucks, but at least I did get some of it. It's from the first Halifax show at the Rebecca Cohn, when some between-song chat about their not-so-good-old-days toiling away at the Lower Deck led Alan and Sean to suddenly start a singalong of "Farewell To Nova Scotia":

"Farewell To Nova Scotia" snippet (lousy focus) - first Halifax show

I love that last look on Alan's face at the end of the clip, no blur capable of hiding that mischievous grin. This singalong was followed by Alan's tale of how when they first signed on at the Lower Deck, they assured the owners that they did indeed know this song of necessity. "Yes, of course we know 'Farewell To Nova Scotia,' we said...then it was back to the room, straight to the computer, then type, type, type, Google, Google, Google."  And, oh, what a very different look Alan got on his face when Sean next sang the first line of Barrett's Privateers.

Last but best (at least in my opinion) is a video clip I've had since last summer, a clip that comes from the Fergus Scottish Festival. This was only my second attempt at using my then-brand-new digital camera's video format (the first was in Nimes, France, when I wandered into a video being shot by Russell Crowe, Alan, and the rest of the TOFOG band in a 2,000-year-old Roman Amphitheatre), and it was also only the second time they had performed River Driver during a show (the first time was at Wolftrap). It can be tricky videoing at a GA show, especially when people crash into you; it will be very clear when that happened if you download and watch this video clip.

What's best about this one is how you can see Alan concentrating on the actual singing of this song, each word and each note, during this second-time-live performance; when you see him sing River Driver now, he is much more focused on the performance aspects instead of on each note and syllable of the song itself. As beautifully and powerfully as he sings River Driver now, as stirring and moving and compelling as he makes his performance of this song, there is something very sweet and touching about Alan's early River Driver, something very easy to love. And it's Murray's head that's aglow in this one:

River Driver, Fergus Scottish Festival, summer 2005 (second show performance of song)

There was magic in the air that summer night in Fergus, as there has been - and will be - on so many other nights. Magic and wonderful music, laughter and so much to love.

The feel of the future in the air, magic and music in the air, along with laughter and love...not at all a bad place to be heading out into, though still heading out from a hard place to leave.

Back here in a few days, I hope.

"Beauty Lost And Undone"

First up, two new links to a video clip to download. This clip (two copies of the file here) is of the "living-room" version of Sea Of No Cares from the second St. John's show.  I recorded this at the first show from the right side, but that angle meant that Sean's head is sometimes eclipsed by the light behind him. Drat. So I did another one the second night, this time from the left side, and Sean's head was reclaimed; I even got a bit of Bob in the second clip, though the presence of Murray in the first one made it rather nice. Alan looks and sounds gorgeous in both, and, of course, is clearly seen and heard in both. This is me and my camera, remember. If someone wants to re-upload that other LR SoNC, I'll put that back up too. Thanks to Lisa for these two uploads of the "Clear-Headed Sean" version.

LR SoNC, St. John's 2, "Clear-Headed Sean" & Bit Of Bob

Second copy of LR SoNC, St. John's 2, "Clear-Headed Sean" & Bit of Bob

(Editing in another copy of this one, thanks to Kohaku)

Third copy of LR SoNC, St. John's 2, "Clear-Headed Sean" and Bit of Bob

And one "edit-in" per request. This is a small enough file for me to be able to upload it myself - from the first St. John's show, Alan doing "Phantom," as only Alan can do "Phantom". No one else slides his hand down (or up) a guitar neck quite the way Alan does it.

Alan's "Phantom Of The Opera" singalong, St. John's 1

It's been a bit since I posted here, I know. Nothing wrong...more along the lines of that notion of "when it's good, you're busy enjoying it while it lasts". I've been putting off facing up to having to leave Newfoundland again, but now it's down to the last few days and I can't avoid the trip-planning necessities much longer, so here I am back at the computer again.

I worked out my way to Buffalo (wussed out...I am flying), and apparently I'm going to wind up in Burlington too. I was going to skip that one since it's a rough bus ride back from Buffalo, but I have this friend who wants to meet me there for breakfast pie. She and I and another friend went to see GBS play in Burlington in 2003, and we wound up eating breakfast in a very cool diner that is a converted railroad car. Wonderful food, all local products, highly recommended, and at the end of that breakfast, I talked them both into a moment of decadence...let's all have pie a la mode for breakfast dessert. Fortunate us to have stumbled onto what might be the best pie in the country.

So now my friend wants to meet me in Burlington for pie; she's not coming to the show, won't even get into town until after midnight. But she will be there for breakfast, and so will the pie. Even more fortunate me to have gained some of the friends I have made along this road; having a friend who can meet you in Vermont for breakfast pie is quite special. Though I miss that other pie-sharing friend, the absence of whom is also very much a part of travelling that same road.

Gain and loss, presence and absence, past and present, laughter and tears, hope and despair and hope rising once again...abiding love and stubborn endurance. All these things have been on my mind of late. Newfoundland is a good place for all these things, part and parcel of why it is so easy to return here, so hard to leave yet again.

I spent yesterday evening in a home that has been the shelter and the refuge for several generations of a local family, kindly invited to share Easter dinner with that family, and while sitting at the table wrapped in the warm afterglow of excellent food, good company, and the combination of a "saucy" shot of rum in my Diet Coke before dinner and a fine Australian wine during dinner, I experienced a rare moment of personal silence as I listened to a multipart song of Newfoundland's past, present, and future playing all around me. Yesterday's generation was explaining how it once was in the outports, today's generation was discussing the challenges faced by a family member living away. All of Newfoundland's hopes for tomorrow were running through the living room in their Easter bonnets, the language of their laughter blending perfectly with the other conversational lyrics into one full, complete song, Newfoundland traditional music in its own right, another verse of the Ode To Newfoundland. I felt fortunate to have been welcomed inside to where that song was being shared. 

And I thought of La Manche, shrouded in fog and in silence, no longer a place of light and laughter, only a faint memory-echo to be heard of all the songs once shared there. We hiked (it would have been a stroll had there been no snow to wade through) in to what remains of this resettled/storm-ravaged village last week, and the ghosts that abide there have been haunting me ever since, albeit a wistfully gentle haunting. To begin to understand the history of La Manche - how a town lived, and the complicated factors that led to its death (despite how simple the bridge plaque makes it all sound) - the first step to take would be to go here:

La Manche Resettlement

It's also the place to go to see what used to be there, as well as to find out why it is there no longer, and how the La Manche of these photos became the La Manche of the photos taken last week (some of those photos below, and there is a full photo album of captioned photos linked over in the sidebar here).

La Manche's story is a complicated truth, the story of a tiny town living on a literal as well as a figurative edge, the story of a government making it next to impossible for that tiny town to survive, the story of a wild storm finishing off in one night what the government had started years earlier. La Manche died in wind and wave, but La Manche was caught in a more deadly storm even before that night, a far more relentless storm from which there was no chance of escape. Past, present, future - La Manche was doomed no matter what...if the residents had resisted the governmental pressure to resettle, if the waves had not swept away most of the town, La Manche would have come to an end with the Moratorium.

If you want to see La Manche as it was, follow the link above. La Manche as it is can be found below, more in the linked photo album here in the sidebar. As for me, I need to start working on my Greyhound routes

Ron Hynes* says it best in "Dark River"...With everything gone, you can see everything.

*Ron Hynes note: If you have not heard Ron Hynes and if you love superb songwriting, you are going to be very happy if you follow the link. I just saw Ron for the umpteenth time the other night at a CD-release show for his latest CD, which is as beautifully written as are all the rest of his CDs. A drum I pound regularly is that one of my biggest hopes is that one very fine day Alan and Ron (who was also a participant in the Junos Songwriters' Circle Alan just hosted) will collaborate on, say, a few hundred songs, the two best songwriters in Newfoundland (in my opinion...or I could be discreetly tactful and simply call them "my two favourite songwriters") working together at last. My second biggest hope is that one day Alan will record his own version of Cape Spear (and perhaps No Kathleen and Dark River, as well). Then again, if Ron should need an expert producer for that trad Newfoundland CD of his own he's talked about lately - or any other kind of CD he might feel inclined to come out with - he would need to look no further than to that other great Newfoundland songwriter, who is also a hell of a good producer. Just ask Russell Crowe.

"Haven't Seen You In A Long Time"

Well, at least by my definition of "a long time," time being relative and all. For all of its worrisome qualities, all that is so right with that WoodSongs webcast has made me look forward to the upcoming shows. I was thinking about skipping that Buffalo show, since it's easier to bus down from Halifax to Burlington than is the trek from Halifax to Buffalo, but now I'm reconsidering. I've never seen them in Buffalo in a classy place. I kind of like the thought of seeing them in Buffalo in a classy place. Actually, I just like the thought of seeing that best performer to be found, in Buffalo or anywhere else.

Speaking of best performers, here are a few more links to the Junos clip of Alan and Bob giving out the Juno for the category that Alan will be winning his own Juno in one of these days:

Alan & Bob present Juno Songwriting Award (partial)

Alan & Bob present Juno Songwriting Award (partial) - second copy of file

Thanks as always to Kohaku and LIsa. Without them, these clips would not be making it up online, at least not for a very long time.

Now I am off on a spectacular day here in the Shining Land, off to hike to what remains of a resettled village, ghosts in afternoon sunshine. 

"We Came, We Saw, We Conquered And Crumbled"

Last night, GBS played the WoodSongs radio show in Lexington, Kentucky. The show was webcast live, and it went up online in the archives today. This should be enough information for anyone who wants to go find that archived webcast, which I downloaded myself today, since I missed the live webcast for lingering over Guinness and Wonderbar Easter eggs at the Duke last night (dessert after mooseburgers at the Celtic Hearth...St. John's is truly a culinary delight). I watched that webcast a bit ago. I am not going to do what I originally intended. I am not going to link that webcast here, and I am not going to send the link to other online sites for sharing.

It's not because of how the band performed - they sang and played well (as did Mare Wakefield, who I've seen a few times before over on the other side of the continent) and it's not because the performance itself was "GBS In Folkie Mode". Folkie Mode made sense for this performance - they went down to Kentucky for a gig  for which they did not get paid, all so that the music from their new CD would be broadcast on the hundreds of radio stations that carry the WoodSongs show, exposure to a  large, mostly American, grassroots-music-loving audience that more or less has never heard of them. It was a smart choice, same as their choice to go back to the Mountain Stage radio show in West Virginia the night before was a smart choice. Their upcoming gigs in Atlanta and Charlotte are smart choices, as is the addition of that Nashville show with Robert Earl Keen. Their best shot at selling copies of a trad CD in the States is to get that CD's music heard in the American South, and it's good to see them adding shows in that region.

What is less good is how it looks as if they are going to be running the risk of finding themselves part of a brand-new stereotype, or rather running the risk of an old stereotype - one based on some unpleasantly familiar preconceptions - being embraced by a new audience, that large American audience that has never heard of them, most of whom have yet to form any preconceived notions about Newfoundlanders, very much unlike the situation in Canada. What is most perturbing is the chance that they themselves might wind up playing into that formation in the minds of that new audience of a brand-new stereotype which is based on some unpleasantly familiar preconceptions. That might result in GBS's selling that new audience a lot of trad CDs, but I hope that the personal price the "Original Three" could wind up paying for those all those sales would be worth it to them, as well as to any other lost-in-America Newfoundlanders who would also be impacted by that brand-new stereotype which is based on those unpleasantly familiar old perconceptions.

When the host of a show that is going to be broadcast on hundreds of radio stations across the United States (and around the world) starts talking about how "a lot of you come from small fishing towns up there in Newfoundland...in Bob's case, you're, like, a college-educated guy," that would have been the perfect opportunity to mention the simple fact that every member of the band has a college degree - including all three of those members from up there in Newfoundland. It would have been the perfect opportunity to lay down the foundation for a perception of Great Big Sea in particular, and of Newfoundlanders in general, that is very much at variance with the perception of them held by many in Canada (one young Quebec woman I know, when telling her friends she was going to college at MUN, was asked, "Do they really have university in Newfoundland?"). It would have been the perfect opportunity to create a new perception, a true perception, of who and what they really are.

Instead, Bob replied, "Yeah, I am the smart guy, indeed."

No, I'm not going to be linking that webcast here.  But if you want to go find it youself, River Driver and Old Brown's Daughter sound good. The talk about participatory music as an integral part of daily life was good.  It was very cool that Murray got to speak, and he did quite well. Now if only they would let him sing lead now and again; I'm still waiting to hear "Bittersweet". Alan's quote of his grandmother's description of clothes from the Gap ("Clothes to cover your gap") was almost enough to make me link the webcast anyway. The songs themselves were as wonderful as they are on every other stage, and Alan's attempt to abscond with the host's Martin guitar in lieu of being paid for playing was priceless.

The show had its good points. It will sell CDs. I hope Alan got a chance to play some bluegrass golf down there in Kentucky land. I hope even more that future American shows will give a clearer view of who and what they, and Newfoundland, truly are today. That one's going to be up to them.

"All Of The Things That You'll Never Forget"

A few new links:

Alan's Junos SC Boston & St. John's

Alan's Junos SC Boston & St. John's, second copy of file

Alan's Junos SC Walk On The Moon

Singalongs second St. John's show ("Big Alan")

Thanks again to Lisa and Kohaku. If someone would like to re-upload the Juno award presentation by Alan and Bob, that would be great. I think that one's already been used up. Still struggling with the LR SoNC clip.

To the person who emailed to ask me if I was alright since I haven't been writing here the past few days...thank you. That was very sweet of you. Usually, when there's a "writing gap" from me, it means that things are going badly. Or that they are going very well.

A friend of mine who actually makes a good living writing has the theory that very little writing - or at least very little worthwhile writing - gets done when times are very good or very bad. In good times, he theorises, more energy is spent enjoying what's going on than in feeling any need to understand it or write about it. But on the other hand, he argues, it's also difficult to get many words of any kind out during the worst of times, since that's usually when just keeping your head above water is using up most of your energy.

His theory is that the best time for writing, the most productive time for writers, is when things are moderately bad, challenging enough to give impetus to introspection, but not overwhelming to the point of crushing initiative. If there can be some sort of lengthy, drawn-out difficulty taking place that will keep poking and prodding the thought processes, even better if those dark times are sporadically interrupted by serendipitously bright flashes of joy and delight that will fire the creative impulses - these are, my friend argues, the optimal conditions for producing thoughtful, insightful writing that comes from the heart, as well as from the mind. 

Who am I to argue with his success?

The trouble is, though, that long, drawn-out difficulties are a challenge to both endurance and perspective, no matter how genuinely and delightfully refreshing those serendipitously bright flashes might be. There are times and places and situations where anyone - writer or not - might find themselves in danger of losing sight of just where the plot is headed or who that main character really is. Not too long ago, someone I care about very much did a stupid thing, actually a series of  stupid things, bad enough to sow seeds of doubt over whether this person was worth caring about quite so much. The resulting situation fit perfectly into my friend's writers' formula...a continuing challenge, serendipitous interruptions, abundant impetus to introspection. But throughout, especially as time went on and the situation continued unabated, perspective began to stand on wobbly feet.

Travelling exacerbates this kind of thing; almost everything challenging is a bit more so when you're struggling to deal with it over lukewarm pizza delivered to a hotel room at 1 am. Perspective is already tweaked when you've been travelling for awhile, and the road is not usually where endurance is at its best. It's one thing to find yourself in that "optimal writing scenario" in terms of external circumstances; but if you've lost your focus on your plot and your characters and your purpose because of internal turbulence caused by those external circumstances, "optimal" is going to be taking a quick dive into the realm of "dubious". And that's right where I wound up with writing, with not an encouraging (or readable) word to be heard for way too long.

There are probably a million effective ways for people to regain focus, depending on the person, the circumstance, and whatever it is that is in danger of slipping out of focus. For me, this time, it was a person I was in danger of losing, actually, in danger of losing sight of who the person is for being so distracted by how that person was acting. I needed something to remind me of that fundamental difference between "who you are" and "what you've done," and it needed to be something that could give me that reminder when it was 3:00 am in a hotel room and the uneaten lukewarm pizza had gone ice cold.

I was fortunate with this one - I had tangible reminders of the person I know and love in the form of this-is-the-real-me writing and photographs, and those tangible reminders gave a helping hand to the internal bookmarks of memory and affection many times in the wee small hours of the morning in hotels rooms scattered across several continents. Those tangible reminders, along with the internal bookmarks, kept me from losing the person I know and love in the midst those long, drawn-out difficulties that were the result of that person's actions. They did wonders for writing focus and perspective too, so much so that I still carry them with me whenever and wherever I travel, a talisman of hope and faith, and maybe most of all, of the purely stubborn refusal to stop giving love where love is due. They remind me of that "I know who you are, weak and strong, failure and success, vice and virtue...and I love you just the way you are" response that is such a wonderful way to feel about any another person. They remind me that there are things I never want to forget. As well as people.

Thinking about this got me thinking further about the general idea of which memories/moments/photos/witings/etc. might be the most true distillations of who and what someone or something is, as well as how that someone or something has impacted/affected others.  There are as many possiblities as there are someones and somethings of impact/effect - each of us has our own someones and somethings, most of us multiple someones and somethings, of this magnitude in our lives, or at least we do if we are fortunate souls - but given the titular topics of this blog, this is what I've come up with so far for singular memories and moments - those intangible reminders - that I think best fit that "most true distillation" description, my top ten, more or less chronologically listed, "this is who you are and this is why I care about you" moments, of one particular group of someones and somethings. These are some of the moments that have led in turn to my own - as Alan described them in his intro to Walk On The Moon - "defining moments," especially for what I want to write, as well as being moments I'll never forget.

1. CBC Songwriters' Circle, where it was clear beyond a doubt that I was hearing something I had never heard before in the well-written songs of that charming fellow who was pounding the living shit out of that guitar. It would take a bit to find out I was hearing a whole culture worth loving.

2. First live show, Bumbershoot, where it was clear beyond a doubt I was seeing something I had never seen before in that contact zone between front-row fans and stage-edge band members, the varying expressions on the faces and in the eyes of all of them haunting me for several sleepless days. It would take a bit longer to have the beginning of a clue about the complexities of that one; five years later, I'm still only a few steps away from clueless.

3. Conversation with economic refugee from CBS in St. Petersburg, Florida. When he says "I'm a Newfoundlander; there's no limit to the number of times my heart can be broken," that statement has a ring of truth to it that is still reverberating.

4. Fort McMurray SoNC show - Thousands of displaced Newfoundlanders singing along to Sonny's Dream, touched and moved and comforted by the men who were leading that singing with such poignant assurance, the same men whose own world was on a less-than-firm foundation.

5. Alan sings Walk On The Moon at the New Orleans House Of Blues - in the midst of what might be the shittiest tour ever, he fulfills all of his songwriting promise and potential. It will take awhile before I find out he fulfilled it three times over on the same day during that shittiest-ever tour. And he did all of this promise- and potential-filling in Nashville (anyone else notice they have added a Nashville date - special guests of Robert Earl Keen yet - to their tour schedule?); talk about the perfect time and the perfect place.

6. The first moment I realise that I prefer seeing Signal Hill and the Narrows from downtown, rather than from up above, and that it has gone from looking dramatically beautiful to feeling reassuringly safe.

7. During the first show of the Canadian Something Beautiful tour (Nanaimo, I think), clips from old videos start to play behind the band on stage. Suddenly a close-up of Alan from the SoNC video comes up; this is the first video of theirs I ever saw, and this is Alan as I first saw him. Alan-of-today is standing there singing as the video clip of Alan-of-yesterday runs behind him. Past and present collide, and the future looms.

8. Junos Songwriters' Circle, Winnipeg. Alan sings his co-write with Russell Crowe, Weight Of A Man. This pick is followed closely by his singing Walk On The Moon again at the Charlottetown ECMA and Halifax Junos SCs.

9. Grand Central, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia - At one point during their show together, Russell Crowe looks over at Alan with a huge "this is so much fucking fun" grin on his face. Alan's answering grin, equally as wide and only a bit brighter, combines with Russell's to create a warmth capable of melting a polar ice cap.

10. One should always leave room for the future, especially when the moon is at hand. Though I am tempted to change the chronology a bit and add in that HHOF show that took place between SB tour legs - the show with Jim Cuddy and his band - the show where Alan looked happier than I had seen him look, or would see him look again, for quite some time. No, I won't add that one...you should always leave room for the moon.

"Bells Are Ringin', Push Has Finally Come To Shove"

*Note: For new download links for some of the more-popular video files and for the Juno award show files, scroll down to the bottom of this post, below the photo.

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I made it home battered. But I never bruise. - Alan's excellent FTR from today

He did it. This time, no surprise on my part. I said a while ago I would never again underestimate Alan Doyle's balls, so the fact that he would continue to write his FTRs with honesty, intelligence, insight, wit, and, of course, balls, is not catching me a bit off guard, though it is most definitely putting a big smile on my face right now. And it is making me so proud of him, proud of his writing and proud of those balls.

I'll come back in a bit to edit in a few new links and respond to some comments...I was just headed out the door to talk a walk on a glorious day when I decided to check first to see if the man whose writing I so admire had written his next FTR yet. And now the day seems even more glorious.

That was an excellent choice of a charity for those who feel a need to gift-give. I hope all of those who want to "do something" will follow his wishes and do something for all the children who rely on the Janeway.

Off to walk and to smile at the glorious day. Good writing always makes me smile, even more so the courageous man who is responsible for that good writing. He deserves way more than that Juno, though he should have gotten that too.

Oh, yes, this shot from the Junos SC is when Alan is telling Jann about "Janie". What he was finally telling Jann about her place in his song showed yet more of those estimable Alan Doyle balls:

Pretty good camerawork for having your eyes filled with tears at the same time you're grinning with delight, if I do say so myself. Seeing the sweet boy in that courageous man seems always to have that effect on me.

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New linkage, with thanks to Jen, Barb, Kohaku, and Lisa. I'm still struggling to get that LR SoNC from the Second St. John's show uploaded, and will post that when it takes. Also included here is the Juno clip of Alan's and Bob's presentation of the Songwriting Juno (second part of their presentation, since a woman passed out of the aisle in front of me during the first part), as well as Jann Arden and Brad Gushue's presentation (with Jann's "bra made entirely of seal eyelids comment) - quality warnings on the two Juno clips...I was up in the nosebleed seats.

Alan/Bob present the Juno Songwriting Award (partial)

Jann Arden, Brad Gushue and the Seal Bra

Alan's Juno SC Walk On The Moon

Alan's SC Juno Walk On The Moon, second copy of file

"Big Alan" St. John's 2 singalongs

"Big Alan" St. John's 2 singalongs, second copy of file

Alan/Sean singalongs, St. John's 3

Alan Sings Phantom

Old Brown's Daughter, Vancouver (Kris Version)

Old Brown's Daughter - Halifax (Murray Version)

Old Brown's Daughter - Halifax (Murray Version), second copy of file

Old Brown's Daughter, Halifax (Murray Version) - compressed AVI

I think that's all of the ones I have right now, and my continued thanks for the help. If someone wants to continue on in the uploading, it looks like Alan's Juno SC Boston could be put up again, and most likely the Juno clip of them presenting the award too. And that second St. John's singalong seems to have no limit to how quickly it gets downloaded every time it gets put up. As for me, I will slog on with that LR SoNC clip - it is huge (218 MB), but it is gorgeous. I have another one of the same song taken the night before, I think, but in that one, Sean's head gets eclipsed by the light behind him for much of the song. No such worries in this second clip, which will be seen if ever I get the darn thing uploaded.

And while it uploads, another walk for me. It's not raining at the moment, which means it's time to seize that moment. Spring in St. John's.

"Sometimes With Lasses He Links"

A brief note before getting to what this post is supposed to be about: In the past few years, one of the greatest pleasures I have found in the "world of Great Big Sea" has been Alan's FTR journal entries. Over those years, Alan has generously given his readers the very special gift of his humour, insight, thoughtfulness, wit, and, best of all, his consistently well-written prose. If the shrill and strident voices of a few bullies who think themselves entitled to tell others what should and should not be said, all the while feeling no compunction to restrict their own metaphorically flapping lips when it comes to whatever they happen to feel like saying, should ever cause him to grow weary of sharing the gift of his writing with us, or even to feel constrained about expressing himself honestly and forthrightly in continued journal entries, then that would truly be a shitty outcome.

I'm going to keep right on looking forward to Alan's next FTR, and I'm going to expect it to be just as honest and intelligent and well-written as have been the ones that came before that next one I am checking for each and every morning. 

Now, back to business...

I had high hopes and grand plans of having all the video files uploaded by now, along with having the the Junos Songwriters' Circle - including all the details about how excellent a host Alan was of that event - written up by now and ready to post, along with all the edited photos. I probably had dreams of having the Juno Cup photos all done by now too. If you're going to dream, dream big.

Of course, I'm nowhere near that far along. I do have some video clips ready to link here, including Alan's Juno SC songs - and thanks to an impressively (and delightfully) diligent group of re-uploaders, I'll be able to give multiple links for some of these files - and I do have some of the Junos SC photos ready to put up too, but not all of them yet; I'll do them all together as soon as I can, with commentary (kudos to Christina for taking great notes during the SC, since I had my hands full with the camera) that will put the photos in a much clearer context.

What I have now does show well enough how I spent my time during the SC, switching off from listening to the others to returning to watch Alan, not only as he hosted with such poise and played with such assurance, but also as he watched and listened to his fellow songwriters, special attention going to the face that always tells a story that never fails to intrigue and move and fascinate the one taking that story in, and also to the hands whose restless motions are like the picture pages of that story. Someday, I will write a story of my own that approaches being as intriguing, moving, and fascinating as is that face, and those hands.

I am (somewhat realistically) hoping to have the SC written and all the photos ready in a few days, also to get the video clips from the Awards show (and a few other clips I had kind of forgotten about) uploaded and linked too. It could have been done by now were I not where I am. I've been wandering the past few days instead of working - to Dildo and to Placentia (both beautiful - and I wish I had been here when that Placentia Ferry was still running...talk about a small boat that is up to making many swift trips), and last night, I finally made it off the Avalon Peninsula, not very far off, to be sure, but in all  the time I've spent here, it's my first time to do that much.

A few years ago, I met a woman at an Ontario GBS show who was born and raised in Little Heart's Ease, a woman who wanted with all of her own heart to go back there, and she spent hours telling me about the beauty and charm of the home she missed so badly, the place and the people and the reason why she would likely never see any of it again. She made it all real to me, and I've wanted to see that much-missed home of hers ever since that Ontario summer night. And now I have. She did not exaggerate a bit when she put her home in my heart.

Better yet, we had wildlife adventures coming and going; we also had gravel-road adventures...winding up on what my mother would have called "a real tit-jiggler of a road". But it was on that road I saw my first shrew - or at least saw the first creature for whom that is the official name - though my initial reaction was that a little rock had somehow grown feet and decided to run zig-zag across the road. My second thought was that I must have done way too many drugs in my misspent youth, since I was now seeing rocks running across the road. Thank God I was with a local who could explain it all to me. Add in a few moose and the disappearing hindquarters of a rabbit, toss in a few stunned cats (who made me miss my own stunned cat quite badly) and top it off with the unfortunate turkey we consumed in the form of hot turkey sandwiches in Goobies, and it made for a grand expedition, and an acceptable enough excuse for taking so long to get links and photos in order.

But before