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

"Is There Something I Should Know?" - FAQs, of a sort

Taking a break from shows and photos to answer a question or two, or more. I've gotten some interesting comments (thank you for taking the time and showing the interest, in almost all cases), and there have been lots of repeats on some of the questions asked. Since I really don't want to keep giving the same answers over and over (here or in private email, especially the latter since I do have a problem keeping track of my email), I thought I'd answer some of the most-repeated questions here and maybe have done with them once and for all.

1. This seems a bit silly to have to answer, but since it gets asked so often, I suppose I might as well. Maybe it only seems silly because I'm unfamiliar with how others write online journals - maybe many people really do pour out all the details of every aspect of their personal lives in journal entries (perhaps even more so in GBS-fan-community journals since it sure happens often on GBS-fan message boards), but that's not what I've chosen to do. This journal is about what its title says, and that's pretty much it. But just because I've chosen (for the time being, at least) not to use this space to talk about my family and friends, or my work, or my sports teams, or my political or religious beliefs, or my other travels and photographs, or even very much at all about the other music I listen to - let alone my innermost thoughts and feelings or even the inconsequential minutiae of each and every day - that doesn't mean all those other things aren't going on, especially that inconsequential minutiae. What it does mean is that to me all these other things are private, no criticism at all implied of those who choose instead to be far more public about all aspects of their own lives. I might on occasion mention some or all of these other parts of my life, but the main focus here is going to stay the same as it's been.

2. I am not writing (and that verb seems a bit arrogant, given the current painfully slow progress...how about "trying to write" instead?) a book about Great Big Sea. Alan is the one who should write a book about Great Big Sea one of these days when he's got some time to do so. What I'm trying to write is a book about how one person has to a small extent come to know, and to a larger extent come to care about, Newfoundland, with much of that knowledge and caring starting with the music of GBS and continuing on with the experience of travelling to GBS shows and points beyond, as well as from coming into contact with the people met along the way.

3. For the time being, I'm not going to be re-posting links to any of the videos I took during the past tour, with the possible exception of Alan's Lucky Me encore from Burlington. Yes, I know live-show video clips are now routinely posted on the offical GBS message board, as well as on such sites as YouTube. Yes, I know there is no clearly articulated official policy (not even an unclearly articulated official policy) from GBS in regard to live-show videos. Yes, I know people stand right in front of the band openly and inarguably videoing their performance, and not a soul in the band expresses any problem with that at all (at least not verbally), nor do they ask that it not be done. I agree with those who have said that no member of GBS has a leg to stand on in bitching about live-show video (or photos, for that matter) because of all these things.

But I am still not going to put my GBS-performance videos back online at the present time, not out of obedience to any official policy they've chosen to formulate and not out of respect for any personal objections any of them has decided to express - for the very simple reason that there are as yet none of those things to obey or to respect. Instead, I'm going to do it by my own choice for two of my own reasons - the first reason being my not wanting to offer up any more argument fodder at the present time than can realistically be avoided, the second reason being that since they have a live-show DVD coming out in the fall, it seems best for sales of that DVD if the desire to see them playing live is at its highest peak possible. Almost every video I have of them from this past tour is a video of a song that will also be on that live DVD (with the possible exception of the pre-RRA singalongs...time will tell if those wind up on the DVD or if they go with Sean's Danny Boy instead), with the very notable exception of Lucky Me, which is a big reason why I am considering putting that video back up again, that and the simple fact that it is my all-time favourite GBS song.

After the DVD runs its course in sales, and if the putative dislike of some for being videoed has still not found the balls (as well as the consensus) it needs to express itself as an official policy that is fairly and consistently enforced, then, yes, I will re-post the video clips from this past tour. If that policy should ever find consensus and expression, as well as its enforcement ever find fairness and consistency, then kiss all the videos goodbye, because the existing ones will promptly go into the private collection and no new ones will be made. In the absence of such a policy and its enforcement, I'm not sure about future videos at shows, at least from me. I am quite sure others will continue to do it, and I am also quite sure that in all fairness I have every right to do the same. But there's fairness and then there's kindness, and the two seem often to be at cross-purposes with one another. An observant person will notice that I have no videos from either Bluesfest or Molson, even though the temptation was great, especially at Bluesfest. Affection complicates things tremendously, and  so far it's making this one a play-it-by-ear matter. If there's one thing I've learned over the past five years, it's not to expect anything to be straightforward or uncomplicated.

4. I don't write about (or take pictures of) the private time of any band members, or answer any questions about what I might happen to know about their private lives. I define "private time" and "private lives" as all the time they are not on stage, with the exception of when they come out to work the crowd in signing autographs and taking pictures with fans, or when they are officially participating in some other kind of public event (as opposed to walking down a public street or beimg present in a public establishment on their own time). If any of them choose to bring up their own private lives - and it's usually only Alan who does this - I'll gladly write in response to that, but that's about the limit of it. For those who are looking for gossip about their personal lives, there are certainly individuals who are more than willing to cooperate, but it's not going to happen here.

5. I've known about GBS since 2001, and no, I don't know how many shows I've seen since I really don't keep a count. Suffice to say that I go to a lot of GBS shows, "a lot" being quite an understatement. I know most people don't understand it, and I certainly know some people have a huge problem accepting it. My own opinion in regard to most of the latter folks is that if they are investing energy into having such a huge problem "accepting" how others choose to live their lives, they might need to be paying more attention to and putting that energy into their own lives instead. There are two people to whom I've given some say over my choices in regard to seeing shows, and if you aren't one of those two people, then it's really not a matter that concerns you. No offence intended, but since the opinions of all but those two people don't really concern me in this matter, the time some spend writing those opinions out might be more wisely invested in doing something more pertinent to their own lives.

6. I'm in no way a professional photographer, strictly an amateur (though I have on occasion done photography on the "barter system," getting costs covered in return for shooting photos). Before I discovered show photography, I mostly took landscape photos on trips and hikes, as well as pictures of the cats. Though I use a (film) SLR for all other "real" photography, for shows I'm using a fixed lens digital these days, an Olympus Camedia C-7000 (7.3 MP, 5X zoom) for photos and video clips. Sometimes I use it on manual settings, but usually on the auto settings, and most often with no flash. It's a good camera, but it has a few serious quirks. If anyone is genuinely interested in photography, that's one topic I'll keep answering specific questions about, at least to the extent of my limited knowledge on the subject, and I would be happy to listen to the knowledge of those who know much more than I do.

7. I'm an American. This question comes up a lot, though I'm not quite sure why. To those who say I don't write like an American, I'm not sure how to respond, especially when that comes from other Americans. My Dad always said, "When in doubt, take it as a compliment," so I guess I'll just say "Thank you," then cross my fingers and hope.

8. You do not need to include an email address to post a comment here, and you can use whatever name you like (or none at all), even if I already know you by your real name or another screen name or don't know you from Adam. The email part is purely volitional, and I like to hear what people have to say no matter what they call themselves while they're saying it. If you want to make a private comment, you have my word that your words will not be posted, though please remember that if you want me to respond to you privately, in that case, I will need an email address of some sort to do so. I do pre-screen comments before posting them, partly to keep outright spam off this blog, and partly to keep outright nuts off this blog. Some people also seem not to be able to resist making nasty personal comments about others, not only about me, but also about band members or other commenters or other GBS fans. I don't find that at all acceptable, especially negative comments about a person's overall character or how people look physically or how others supposedly feel, and those kinds of comments will not be seeing the light of day.

I don't like mean people. Saying you think someone is acting like a twit is one thing, but saying you think someone is insane or that they are ugly or that so-and-so hates them is quite another thing. I don't want that crap showing up here. I also don't post gossip about band members that gets sent here, but I will confess that I do read it - there's having standards and there's being human, after all. Also, I really do like conversation, and it's fine with me if people want to respond directly to another person's comments instead of waiting for me to answer back first. I'm told that isn't usually how it's done on personal blogs, but I don't really give a frig about how it's usually done, so please feel free if you're so inclined.

9. Yes, I hope Alan makes some solo CDs and that he keeps collaborating with others outside of GBS, especially Russell Crowe, since what they've done together so far turned out to be so good. I'd love to see Alan performing on his own or with his own band too. If Sean has any inclination at all toward doing any or all the same, I hope he does it as well (for that matter, Bob too). That doesn't mean I hope GBS splits up. All it means is I hope that Alan is able to do everything he wants artistically and that he gets the chance to use all of his creative talents to their fullest potential - on stage, writing, composing, arranging, producing, all of it. My own opinion is that there are - at the present time, at least - some things that Alan is only going to be able to do with GBS and some things he is only going to be able to do away from GBS, so I hope that he has the chance to do any and all of those things that will make him happy, no more and no less.

10. Yeah, I like Alan. How did so many people ever figure that one out all on their own? And regardless of those occasions when I think he might benefit from an affectionately exasperated slap or two upside the head (or perhaps from having his lovely assets firmly paddled instead), I think he's pretty wonderful, as well as an excellent tangible testimony to his own Something Beautiful, though on both those counts, I tend to wonder how it is everyone else in the whole world hasn't already figured all that out on their own too.

And on that closing note, maybe just one little photo from Bluesfest:

Sorry. As ever, I could not resist. That might make for an eminently appropriate epitaph.

"Like A Country Divided" - Molson Moments & HMD

I figure death is a lot like having sex: You just lie there completely still, your brain is shut off, nothing new ever happens to you, nothing's really expected of you...you just lie there and get rotted. - "Good Girl" line from Hatching, Matching & Dispatching

From discussions of sex toys to good-for-business stripping lessons to the playing of rocked-out eulogies at a doggie wake - Hatching, Matching & Dispatching provided plenty to laugh about last Tuesday night. Plenty to think about too, not a surprise for a show that comes from the sharp-edged wit of Mary Walsh, especially the incisive depiction of that not-quite-dead-yet Newfoundland dichotomy between "good girls' and "bad girls". Going from her early Bad-Girl raging horomonal imbalance to learning the Good GirlSpeak way of comparing sex to death and differentiating between business stripping and "whorish" stripping, Myrna's a spot-on creation (and creature) of her culture.

Not that there isn't also a depiction of the hope of driving a stake right through the oh-so-deserving heart of a few outdated but entrenched notions. That last little bit after the final credits, where Todd and Myrna are taking their own turn at the stripping pole, was a priceless peek behind the character's "public" face,  and it dealt a happily brutal blow to that foolish dichotomy. Good girls do. Good girls do with butt plugs and anal beads, even with a bit of whorish stripping tossed in as well (who knows? - Good Girl Myrna might very well shop at Our Pleasure). There are some fellows whose lives could be much more pleasurable if only they would take this lesson to heart, among other places.

Excellent music in the stripping-lesson scene, just the right blend of sultry and tacky, and my guess is the fellow playing the drums for the stripping music - and who I am betting dearly loved the idea of writing music for a stripping scene - is more often seen with a stringed instrument in his ever-capable hands, though I have seen what he can also do with a pair of drumsticks in those same hands. Speaking of stringed instruments, the arena-rock electric-guitar interlude during the "Rainbow Bridge" doggie eulogy was absolutely perfect. I like the way this series uses music in the shows; it's subtle and organic, instead of the usual cloying and intrusive music of most comedy series. I still wish there were better credits for the music (since the same religious song that was sung last episode got credited this time too, it looks like they simply ran last week's credits over again), so we could know for sure who is playing what, but at least we know who did the composing.

From what I'm seeing of Mary's work, and hearing of Alan's work, I'm looking forward more and more to that fall/winter release of Young Triffie's Been Made Away With - it should be a great movie.

Until then, at least there are four more episodes of HMD to look forward to.

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I'm still not quite done with the Molson photos, mainly because I foolishly talked myself into putting them into a photo album, and now I am remembering just why it is I think photo albums are such a frigging pain in the ass. Between the glacially slow uploads on dialup and my inability to write a succinct caption...well, it's not quite done yet, even though many of the individual photos are done by now and good for putting up. So far I've posted some from the middle part of the show - from Scolding Wife through Ordinary Day - and I do have some from the early going that I can put up now, in lieu of a complete album.

But before I do that, time for a confession. I was, shall we say, less than forthcoming in regard to some photos I've already put up from this show. Not a matter of outright dishonesty, to be sure, since I did post the photos (or most of them) from this part of the show  with a dutiful - if somewhat sketchy - mention of what was being discussed at the time.

What I left out, however, was how I responded to what Alan (and Sean) said and how I interpreted the meaning of what was said, as well as how vastly different the response from and interpretation of the thousands of people I was in the midst of appeared to be. Why did I leave all that out? One simple reason: I didn't believe there were very many people who would want to hear what I had to say. I still don't believe it, and that disbelief has nothing to do with the question of what is or is not true. It doesn't matter all that much how true something you write might be - in fact, if a sizeable percentage of the people most likely to be reading what you write are disinclined toward accepting any truth that does not appeal to them, then truth runs a high risk of being quite troublesome - when what you're saying is something people do not want to hear. That's how this felt, and that's why I backed away from saying much about my own reactions or interpretations.

Then there's always having to deal with those who say a person who takes anything about GBS very seriously has to be cracked. Aren't they just some goofy Newfie party band, after all? Isn't supposed to be all about turning off your brain and getting an emotional high?

But, unlike some, I do take them seriously. I take Alan seriously. I take what he says seriously, maybe most of all when what he's saying comes wrapped up in his own characteristically sharp-edged wit. This time, what he said - how I interpreted and responded to what he said - had quite an impact on my perspective on GBS, among other things, especially when seeing what he'd said in the larger context of the show. And since I think what he said was important...I guess that means I'm going to write about it anyway, even if I still don't think many people are going to want to listen. But since I'm reasonably confident those who don't want to listen will find it all easy enough to dismiss, at least no one is likely to get too perturbed by what I have to say. And those who don't want to bother with any of it in the first place can always just scroll straight down to the photos.

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Setting is always important to context. This was Molson, which Alan had already called the premiere outdoor concert venue in Canada, and there were 10,000 people  who had come to see Great Big Sea, on the night immediately following a GBS show for 20,000 in Ottawa. Among those 10,000 at Molson were people from GBS's record label; also there were Alan's Mom and Dad, who were seeing him perform outside of Newfoundland for the first time. It was the last night of a very successful tour (I'm a bit wary of Alan's "most successful tour" description since I don't know exactly what measures he's basing that assessment on) that had been going on since the beginning of this year, and it was four days after the birth of his child. The show was going very well, the huge crowd was loving them this night as much as the huge crowd had loved them the night before, and both nights Alan was looking as if he were about to self-combust from the sheer delight at finding himself to be right where he was and doing exactly what he was doing.

So given the context of the setting, when they had finished the living-room version of Sea Of No Cares and Alan lifted his wineglass in a toast to GBS's career, what he said after that toast commanded my full attention. The people who think I can't listen while taking pictures are quite mistaken; I was listening and listening hard to what Alan had to say all the while the camera was watching him say it.

First Alan says that they have been playing their own songs together for 13 years, and that this first quarter of their careers has been great. The crowd cheers, predictably.

Then Alan says that they will see the crowd in 2027, adding, "It will be like Riverdance."

It is a disconcerting sort of solitude that finds you standing in a throng of cheering people when what is causing them to cheer so wildly is the very same thing that has caused your own heart to plummet. I know why they were all cheering, understand that they are expressing their approval of 20 more years of GBS shows, but the thought of what it would be like for any band to truly be "like Riverdance" - to keep doing the exact same thing over and over and over and over and over at each and every show for 20 years - is making me feel distinctly queasy. I look up at Alan, watching his face to see what it is he might be getting at.

And when I take a long look at that face as he gazes out into the crowd, I lift the camera again, just as he cocks an eyebrow and affects the sonorous voice of an announcer, intoning, "Tonight, playing the role of Sean McCann..."

Again, that feeling of being alone in a great big sea of people, as I hear laughter all around me in response to a comment that I've taken to be saying how easily replaceable the individual might be so long as the show goes on as it has always gone on before and the collective entity carries on with what is expected.

"We can be a franchise like Tim Horton's, but with beer," Sean agrees, beaming with a cheerfulness so impish as to set off all my warning bells, though I'm still adrift in that sea of laughter. Then Sean does a little dance to underscore his point.  The crowd clap and cheers, while I think about the faceless ubiquity of countless lookalike Tim's to be found in nearly every town across Canada.

It finally occurs to me to look over at Bob, to see how he is reacting to what's being said by his band mates.

Alan sips his wine and ponders a bit, looking as if he has more to say and is deciding whether to say it. 

From there he heads off into comments about choreographed errors and lip syncing and gives Murray a poke about this Ontario crowd being Murray's "people" and it wasn't much longer before they finally got Helmethead on the go. This Molson Moment had passed in time, if not in memory.

I think it's fair to say the general reaction of the crowd was one of delight that Alan was apparently saying he at least thinks GBS will keep on keeping on for years to come. Maybe others heard the same dread that I heard of winding up making the same record again and again and playing the same show again and again for those years to come, or maybe they didn't. Hard to say, since even quite a few silently stricken people in the midst of cheering thousands wouldn't be of much note.

All during Helmethead, I was thinking - thinking about this night, thinking about the night before in Ottawa, thinking about looking up and seeing the light in Alan's eyes as he in turn looked out into those huge crowds and seeing the satisfaction in his smile as thousands cheered and clapped and sang at his command. Then I thought about the expression I'd just seen on his face as he talked about being a Riverdance Band, one with interchangeable parts yet. There are many people who will only see him in that first light, as the man who has both a love for and a need of being in the spotlight and connecting with his crowd; these tend to be a lot of the same people who come to GBS looking for what they sometimes call their "happy fix". I think a good number of those people are also the same ones who tend toward believing that Newfoundland is some kind of fairy-tale Promised Land where they could escape all their "real life" troubles and finally find their longed-for happy home if only they could find some way to live there - or maybe some see it more as that "Disneyland of drinking and fun" respite from reality. These limited perspectives are fairly common in the GBS fan base, at least among those fans I've had contact with, tbough they are not solely the province of GBS fans. 

But as limited a view as this is of Newfoundland, it's equally limited to see only the dark parts, to see only the hard times of high unemployment and harsh surroundings while ignoring the strength that can come from the one or the beauty of the other. Same with how Alan could be seen: how limited it would be to see only the dread at the possiblity/likelihood of becoming the Riverdance Band and to ignore the joy that comes from connecting with the crowd, even with a crowd that wants no more than a Riverdance Band.  Seeing only the dark parts is what people like Annie Proulx do with Newfoundland, and what some dismissive cynics (Mainlanders and locals alike) do with Alan and GBS.

Both views have a measure of truth, but each sees only a part of the picture, so both views wind up being distorted. Any hope for a balanced view has to be able to see both the joy and the dread that are equally true, not see that as a contradiction, but instead see it as a way of being able to take hold of as much pleasure as is possible in the midst of circumstances that leave much to be desired. To refuse to acknowledge the joy is to deny the existence of light and warmth and laughter; to refuse to acknowledge the hardship is to deny the existence of the courage and strength and determination that go into the seeking out of and laying claim to joy.

So do I think Alan was talking about a possible future for GBS, one that could be decidedly unpleasant in some respects? Yes. And do I think that at the same time, Alan wants to be able to keep on being exactly where he was this night at Molson as much as he wants most anything else, regardless of that possibly unpleasant future? Yes. That is my own interpretation, and this is my own response, though I am sure there are others who interpreted and responded differently. As for myself, I believe that possible future could happen to GBS if they do manage to keep playing together for 20 more years, since it happens more often that not to lifer bands, and GBS is also saddled with a very change-resistant current fan base, as well as with internal elements equally resistant to change.

So it may happen, and if it does, I hope with all my heart that those among them who want to keep growing creatively will have other projects on the go if it does turn out that GBS becomes the Riverdance Band. Because I love the music they've created together, I'm not thrilled with the chance that this could happen, but I can see how it could benefit them, both financially and in terms of being able to keep playing for those huge crowds, if it did. If they could find enough joy in the midst of those circumstances that would leave much to be desired for it to be good enough for them, then let the band play on.

I'm not fussy - as long as this expression can be seen on Alan's face at their shows, most anything else seems acceptable to me:

Alan Doyle 

Sure, in an ideal world, it would be great to see smiles on every face, but this is nowhere near being an ideal world where everyone is going to want the same things, let alone where everyone is likely to get whatever it is that is most likely to put a smile on every face. This is a hope-for-what-matters-most world, more often than not. I'll hope that what causes this particular smile today will also cause it tomorrow. On the other hand, I'll hope GBS ends on the same day this smile goes away, if that ending is what it takes to bring the smile back again, though there's no way to know now when or even if that might ever happen. One thing I do know for sure, though...no matter what kind of band they become, no matter what the expectations of their audience, the front man is going to continue to be the very best at what he does, for as long as he keeps doing it. Even if he keeps doing it until 2027.

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Speaking of being the best, here are some of the photos from the first part of the Molson show, from the beginning up through General Taylor:

Captain Kidd.

Great Big Sea

When I'm Up.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Bob Hallett

Alan Doyle, Honey-Glazed Ham

Shines Right Through.

Alan Doyle Spectacular

Alan Doyle

Bob Hallett

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Lukey.

Bob Hallett

Murray Foster & Alan Doyle

Sweet Forget Me Not.

Sean McCann

Murray Foster & Alan Doyle

When I Am King.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle Slide

Alan Doyle

Charlie Horse.

Kris MacFarlane & Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle, Sean McCann, Bob Hallett

And finally, a few shots of Sean's spectacular General Taylor.

Sean McCann

Sean McCann

Sean McCann

Sean McCann

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Plenty (and then some) for now. Sorry if this takes a long time to load. If it's really difficult to get the page to open properly, let me know and when I get the photo album done, I'll remove some of the photos posted here.

"There Will Be Some Consolation" - Ottawa Bluesfest

**Reminder to those who want to see Hatching, Matching & Dispatching - it is on CBC tonight (Tuesday)**

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I had intended to make this entry be about the rest of the pictures from the Molson show, along with an attempt at writing about a moment during that show that was a combination watershed/epiphany for me, a moment I'm calling my "Non-GBS-Fan/Non-Annie-Proulx Moment". I'm still going to post those pictures and write about that moment, but not right now. Something more important came up the other day, and I've finally found the wherewithal and gumption to write about it instead.

There has been something I've been wanting to say about the Ottawa show, but it involved another person and his privacy, so I've waited and not mentioned it to anyone else, as he asked me to, until he was ready for it to be talked about by someone else. He got in touch with me few days ago, and he told me he's ready now.

Back in an entry here during May, I mentioned that a friend I had met in Ottawa the day after the Atlantic Scene Songwriters' Circle in 2003 was nearing the end of her long battle with breast cancer. I said that I had met her only a few days after she had first been diagnosed as being terminally ill, and that one if the things that impressed me so much about her was how generous a spirit she showed when she commented that the song Something Beautiful - which Alan had sung publicly for the very first time during that Songwriters' Circle  - had not made her think of her own burdens and fears, but instead of what her husband, Bill, was likely going to have to face in a short while.

Like so many in Ottawa, indisputably the city with the most fervent Great Big Sea fans, Melissa had loved this music for more than a decade, with a special appreciation for Alan's songs and Alan's performances. It was during these last few years, when her own life had become such a challenge to her endurance and hope, that she said she had come to respect and admire more and more the man that Alan was showing himself to be, especially in such songs as Something Beautiful, which had by now become a very special song for both Melissa and Bill.

When I was last in Ottawa for the most recent GBS show there, I visited Melissa for what I was told would be the last time. I went the day after the GBS show, and I took her videos and pictures from that show, not much in the face of the amount of pain she was in, but still a gift of value. GBS didn't perform Something Beautiful this past May at the NAC -they did that song only a few times on the whole tour this time around - but what Melissa did get to see of the show she had to miss made her smile at a time when smiles were desperately needed. It made Bill smile too. His need for smiles may have been even greater.

I didn't say goodbye to Melissa that afternoon. She wouldn't let me say goodbye. She told me that she'd be there when I came back in two months for Bluesfest.

Melissa died at sunset on July 3rd. Four days later, I listened to Alan sing Something Beautiful beneath the moon and the stars on a summer night in Ottawa. He pierced my heart, and he made me smile.

Melissa was right...she was there when I came back for Bluesfest. 

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Just a few for now, a few of the smiling moments from this show. Some repeats from earlier posts, but there are always those smiles that are worth another go. On a night when 20,000 witnessed one of Alan's most compelling performances, and on a night of remembering an affection shared with a friend, not much surprise where my eyes and my smiles belonged. More photos to come in time, more balance as well (at least, way more Sean photos to come too), but this one is going to be 30 (it was supposed to be two dozen, then 25, and it could have kept right on past 30 if I had not decided to take pity on my fellow dial-uppers) of the many times one matchless man made me smile beneath the moon and the stars on a summer night in Ottawa. And each time I smiled, it felt as if I were smiling for two.

Sound check, and looking so much like who he really is - pissy and hard-working and posturing and endearing and utterly irresistible all at the same time, and well aware of every bit of it all at the same time too - that I could hear Russell's voice all the way from Coff's Harbour, saying, "You are Alan Doyle". Russell smiled at him too, as I recall.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

When he is up in the spotlight.

Alan Doyle

Alan is watching the crowd sing the When I'm Up chorus. The crowd is watching Alan watch them sing. I am watching a beautiful belly. With a smile on my face.

Alan Doyle

Rock God glory shines right through.

Alan Doyle, Rock Star

Alan Doyle

Making something beautiful.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

The man who plays his instrument like no other.

Alan Doyle, gorgeous

Alan Doyle, splendid

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

The man of so many faces.

Alan Doyle & Murray Foster

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

The man of so many amazing performances.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle & Bob Hallett

Alan Doyle & Kris MacFarlane

Alan Doyle & Sean McCann

The face that tells the story better than my words will wind up telling it.

Alan Doyle

And because I've decided it would be too unfair not to acknowledge the smiles that came from that other source even while I was wishing I could be send that other source back home to his family:

Sean McCann

Ottawa was special; Ottawa was sweet. And I am grateful for each and every one of those smiles.

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I'll try to get back to Molson and get things done in some semblance of order from here on out. I probably won't succeed all that well, but I will try. 

"When The Best Is Left To See" - HMD & Molson 2

It's like that...only over and over...with someone you love. - Laugh-out-loud line from last night's Hatching, Matching & Dispatching episode.

I don't have much patience with sitcoms; other than The Simpsons, and I also enjoyed Made In Canada when it was around, there's not much on television that can make me laugh out loud on a regular basis. Hatching, Matching & Dispatching just might do the trick, though. HMD's a wickedly tweaked show that rings as true to the spirit of Newfoundland humour as is to be expected with Mary Walsh's being the creative force behind the project. Good cast, gorgeous locales (some grand views from the hills up above Petty Harbour - next time I am there and there are not several feet of snow on the ground, I am taking that stretch of the East Coast Trail I've been eyeing for the past four years), and an abundance of perceptively outrageous wit.

Best of all, Mary chooses the best collaborators, not only in her show's cast, but for her show's music as well. She's certainly shown impeccable taste in her choice of a music composer for HMD. Moderately insincere apologies in advance for what is going to be an "Isn't he wonderful?'" moment, and thanks to Christina for the images:

"Dead Or Alive" is a cool theme song by Ron Hynes (considered by many to be Newfoundland's best songwriter, and considered by me to be second only to Newfoundland's other best songwriter), but even before that theme song played, during the initial moments of the re-cap of the show's premiere episode, there was some of Alan's composing handiwork to be heard, the "Pork In The Cupboard"  trad piece that he arranged. They gave the credits at the end, but even before seeing those credits, I'd recognised Bob's whistle style and Kris's drums as soon as I heard them.

 

So Bob played the whistles, and Kris the drums and percussion, with vocals/chin music from Nellie Mousseau, leaving quite an assortment of instruments credited to the fellow who arranged the piece: along with "programming," Alan's credits are guitar, bass, and...piano accordion? What I would not give to see Alan playing an accordion; talk about getting a fantasy on the go. After having already seen him play the bass, the drums, the pennywhistle, the congas, and the bodhran, now all my hopes are set on seeing those hands of his hands on the squeezebox. I wonder if it's possible to play accordion and electric guitar simultaneosly?

This whole Music Composer Gig is so cool, and the multi-instrumentality is the frosting on the cake. Though given some of the recurring themes in this episode, I am deeply suspicious of the choice of a piece titled "Pork In The Cupboard". I can hear both Mary and Alan laughing their arses off over that one. What I'm really wondering now is whether Alan composed the rest of the music in this episode. They credited Ron's work and the source of the trad piece - they even gave credits for a bit of a religious song that one character sang - but there was music in both of the same-sex wedding scenes ("Fags can get married in a bar, but you can't light a fag in a bar?"), the first a disco-ish piece and the second a folkie-trad piece, that weren't specifically mentioned in the closing credits, which I'd think would mean that both pieces were the work of the Music Composer, though I don't know for sure if that's how it works.

I'm looking forward to the upcoming HMD episodes, for the laughs and for the music both. Mary was clearly happy with Alan's work on her show, since she next asked him write the score for her directorial-debut movie. Alan's been working with some impressive people in his solo endeavours; you won't find very many folks more interesting, talented, or dedicated to their craft than are Mary Walsh and Russell Crowe.  And speaking of Russell, how perfect was it that an ad for an upcoming CBC showing of Gladiator wound up being shown in the midst of this HMD episode?  Definitely an Alan's World moment.

The more I think about it all, the more I think I'll have to cheerfully confess that my apology for the "Isn't he wonderful?" moment was absolutely, completely, totally, and unrepentantly insincere. For those who love to laugh, catch next Tuesday's HMD if you possibly can.

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I'd intended to switch back to the Bluesfest photos for this next entry, but special requests from a few who had planned to go to Molson and were forced to change their plans have caused me decide to do at least one more entry of pictures from that show first. I've got all but the earliest shots done, so for now, I'll go with more shots from the end of the show, pretty much picking up where I left off last time. I'll eventually get the first part of the show - which is mostly all Alan as the Rock God and Sean as the power folk singer - finished and posted soon, along with the rest of my Bedazzled-By-Alan Bluesfest photos (though Sean did catch my eye a lot there too, hard to miss him when I was right in front of him in all his yellow glory).

This was my third time seeing GBS at Molson, and each time has been distinctly different from the others. The first time, a GA show, was so much about the hours spent waiting with a group of friends, a group that was just beginning to fray around the edges, the beginning of the end of fan naivete for more than a few of us that day. And it was the show where Sean's tough-guy cover - which I'd never believed from the first anyway - was blown once and for all when the effect of thousands cheering for his Widow In The Window showed clearly on his unguarded face. The second Molson show was such a Rock Show, and Alan was gloriously on fire; it was also the show where Russell came backstage and the first talk of collaboration between him and Alan began.

This Molson show was, for me at least, the sweetest by far, poignantly sweet. Yes, Sean did at times look as if he might be in need of a pat on the back and reassurance that he'd soon be back home, and, yes, Bob's mood did seem to blow hot and cold for most of the show, though each played his way through it all and each put on a very good show. Kris and Murray seemed a bit removed, off in the Land of the Non-Original-Three, though Murray looked to be making the most of his home-venue advantage. Each man up on the stage put on a good show when a good show was needed from them all, but there was a singular source of that poignant sweetness that wound up being so moving and endearing. It was Alan who made this Molson show so sweet in my eyes, the way he came out  so eager and determined, so palpably thrilled at being on that big stage in front of that huge crowd (as well as for being able to perform for those two most important people in that huge crowd), him a contradictory bundle of pride and humility with a smile that could melt a heart of stone, and own a heart of mere mortal flesh. No matter how many misgivings or doubts I may have on occasion about that collective entity that calls itself Great Big Sea, all I could think on this night was that I hope there are as many more Molsons in the future as the man with that Lucky Me smile desires.

So here is how Molson ended, not with a whimper, but a bang.

One shot only from Consequence Free.

Alan Doyle

Poised to pound his way into Mari Mac.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

When is a bad picture a good picture? When it tells the story well, regardless. First up, Alan whirls out of the frame after having spun his way over to Bob during MM, then Sean flies through the air at the very end of the song.

Alan Doyle & Bob Hallett

Sean McCann, airborne

I have stood in so many crowds during Ordinary Day, and there are times the upwelling of emotion all around comes close to being overwhelming. Hearing 10,000 voices singing along did not lessen that feeling.

Great Big Sea, four-fifths thereof

Alan Doyle & Sean McCann

Alan Doyle, Murray Foster

Alan Doyle

Bob Hallett

Sean McCann

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

While Bob was singing Come And I Will Sing You, which Alan has described as "the first song I ever heard Bob Hallett sing," I was wondering if on that occasion more than a decade ago when Alan first heard Bob sing this song someone had told both of them that one day in the future Bob would be on stage singing it for 10,000 people in Toronto, with Alan and Sean up there with him, what their reaction to that might have been. With the next thought being, of course, that I wonder what will be true in the future that seems bloody unlikely today?

Bob Hallett

Sean McCann

Alan Doyle

Murray Foster

Bob Hallett

Alan Doyle

For the longest time after Darrell left GBS, there were those who said that it didn't seem right for anyone else to be singing Excursion, but not me. I've thought of his version as "Alan's Excursion" and loved it from the first time he sang it, back at the first show without Darrell in Oshawa in 2003. As thoroughly weary as I am of some of the songs that can't be pried ort blasted out of the GBS live-show repertoire, it's hard to imagine a GBS show without Excursion.  And the sight of so many people pumping their fists is awesome. In the last shot for this song, that's Kris's fist coming into the frame toward Murray.

Alan Doyle & Sean McCann

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle & Murray Foster

Fortune is almost impossible to keep up with, watching or taking pictures, since there is so much going on all at once and they move all across the stage during the song. This night, Sean not only did his usual stint as drummer, but he also took a turn on the congas, though I almost didn't get a picture of it since Alan is most definitely not transparent.

Bob Hallett & Kris MacFarlane

Sean McCann

Murray Foster & Sean McCann

Sean McCann

Then it was time for the part of Fortune I love the most, the part that has become one of my favourite moments of their shows, when Alan casts all restraint aside and focuses his energy and passion on the task of setting his guitar afire. The way he watches his own hands with such unabashed delight, as if he too is a fellow-witness along with the rest of us who watch in wonder as those hands work their independent will with such frennzied dexterity, remains one of the most fascinating and compelling - as well as utterly delightful in its own right - performance moments I've ever been lucky enough to experience.   

Alan Doyle, triumphant

Alan Doyle

  Alan Doyle

I love shows that end with this kind of smile on Alan's face. I couldn't hope to write any better or more fitting ending than this.

Alan Doyle

This is already a large number of pictures, so I think I'll save the second encore for a subsequent post, maybe combine the ending with the beginning, or maybe do two more. Not sure yet. But I will end with this "tease" for the first song of the second encore, the song that is, as Alan so aptly described it, "a Newfoundland love song".

Two views of River Drivers.

Alan Doyle

Sean McCann

For me, the third time truly was the charm at Molson. Which doesn't mean that the fourth time might not be even better, though just seeing that smile again will be good enough for me.

Beginnings and endings at Molson soon.

"There'll Be Music All Around You" - Molson

***Note to any who get the CBC network: Tuesday, July 18 is the first night of the six-week run of Hatching, Matching & Dispatching***  (now I am off to program the recorder)

Many photos down below, so for those on dialup, it will take some time for them all to load. If some do not load (being on dialup myself, I know how this goes), give the recalcitrant buggers a gentle nudge by right-clicking on the open space where they should be, then selecting "Show Picture". Then wait some more. Almost all things come eventually.

I'm still not finished with all of either the Bluesfest or the Molson photos, but that's no reason not to put up some of what is done so far. Patience is a dubious virtue: I'm all for having fun now, and then having more fun later, the photographic equivalent of those frequent, short boat trips.

Part of what's taking me so long with these pictures is I'm really enjoying editing them. The memories are sweet and worth lingering over - these were two excellent shows. Does that mean they were perfect? No. And it doesn't mean they were the best shows I have ever seen, or the best shows GBS has ever done, either. What it means is that they were two excellent shows, two important shows too, I would think. To draw more than 20,000 people to the opening night main stage of Bluesfest - especially with Broken Social Scene also playing on an adjacent stage - is impressive in its own right; to draw 10,000 to Molson right after having recently played so many GTA shows and while touring a CD that has gotten next to no mainstream air play at all is nothing short of an amazing way to end a tour that was likely far more successful than almost anyone had dared hope it might be. As always, it's better to let the man who says it best say it for me:

Big night in the Big Smoke last night.  Effectively the last night of the Hard and the Easy Tour, last evening's gig was the final hoorah for the tour that began way back in late January.  It has been our most successful stint in our 13 year career.  Its amazing that over a decade into this crazy run, that our stock is somehow still rising.

Last night was our fourth time playing the Molson Amphitheatre and featured our biggest paid audience ever in Toronto at close to ten thousand.  Quite a feat for a wee folk band.  - Alan, July 9 FTR

The size of the crowd alone should have been enough to raise the eyebrows of the Warner label reps who were in attendance; the response of that huge crowd to what was taking place on stage should have warmed the cockles of their mercenary little hearts. Far more important at Molson was another pair of hearts that had to have been warmed - as well as touched, moved, and made very proud - by the performance of their son on that Big Stage on a Big Night in the Big Smoke. There he was, their boy, centre stage with his mates on a beautiful summer night at the premiere outdoor concert venue in all of Canada, 10,000 people cheering and clapping and singing along at his command. Quite a feat, indeed. No wonder I've been lingering over these pictures.

Me being me, I had intended to make the first post of Molson photos be all about the irresistible Rock Star Guitar God, because Alan was just that at Molson, same as he had been at Bluesfest, though perhaps even more sultry in Ottawa, if a bit more endearing in Toronto.  I'm still going to start out with a few moments of guitar-god glory (I am only as I am, to quote a pair of skilled songwriters), but I think that for the rest of this entry, I'll try to make sure that everyone who was up on that stage making it such an excellent show also shows up here. But there will most definitely be guitar-god glory in his fullness to come soon, and there will also be the usual abundance of Alan in the rest of the photos this time. I'm not going to put these photos up in show order; that will eventually happen in the semi-mythical photo album I'm eventually going to put all of these in. For this post, maybe song order might give a bit of a glimpse into what the show was like in that it shows what story there was to be told in a few of the songs they performed.

But first and foremost, the First And Foremost, or, as Sean would call him post-WIAK-lead-solo: Alan Van Halen.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle Amazing

Alan Doyle

I must say that the hand in the final shot was purely a coincidence, though rather appropriately situated. But that's nothing compared to the picture I have of Murray admiring Alan's ass. I'll get to that one in a bit.

Alright, now that proper obeisance to the King has been done, and my favourite lead guitarist has been duly acknowledged...

The preceding shots were taken before I moved up closer, which was not, as I had first thought, during Paddy Murphy. I had sure thought about moving up then because of how "intimate" the crowd was getting during Paddy, but didn't do it. It wasn't until I started looking closely at the photos that I remembered  I stuck it out at my original seat until Charlie Horse. It was when Alan said that this was the first show his Mom and Dad had been to outside of Newfoundland that I finally decided to move closer, since such an auspicious occasion called for a decent photo or two. All of these subsequent shots come from that latter part of the show, but there will be more from both parts to come later. More of the sexiest man ever to wield a Les Paul as well.

These start with Scolding Wife. In terms of the show, this was right after a show-stopping General Taylor had first hushed that huge crowd, then inspired them to sing along, and that crowd was now completely under their control. The beach balls that had been flying about at the start of the show had long since been forgotten, everyone and their wayward children were finally in their seats, it was now dark and all eyes were focused on the light that emanated from the stage (and from the big screens, for the folks farther back). What had started out as a genially distracted summer crowd  had been captivated and drawn together by that incomparable front man, who had been working hard from his first moments on stage to ensure that this happened.

I know no one is ever supposed to talk about the hard work, skill, and craft that go into the showmanship that forges the bonds between the crowd and the performers at GBS shows, as well as the bonds between the audience members themselves, because so many want to believe it is "just Alan being who he is, just Great Big Sea being who they are". For some people, maybe for most GBS fans, believing it truly is all effortless and natural is an important part of their enjoyment of the shows, and maybe an important part of their personal definition of what comprises "magic". I think there are elements in GBS who want to promulgate that perception as well, understandable enough given they have so many current fans who are so motivated to believe that is how it is.

But I see the hard work, and I see the skill and the craft, sometimes in a flicker of frustration that resolves itself in a flash of inspiration, other times in a determined set of the jaw and a squaring of the shoulders that are the precursor of a brilliant smile and an irrefusable laugh. I see the nervousness that is willed away by a conscious choice of assurance, and I see the triumph in a pair of exultant green eyes when the victory is won and the audience is well in hand. For the past five years I have been watching the most effective, most persuasive, most impassioned, most compelling, and most sheerly stubborn performer I have ever before seen, and to me, his efforts and what those efforts accomplish night after night and town after town are a fundamental part of my own personal definition of what comprises "magic". That he does make what he accomplishes appear so effortless to so many - with the unfortunately inevitable result of this being that so few give him the credit his efforts merit - may be his most amazing accomplishment of all, amd may be what is the most magical, by anyone's definition, about him. With Sean by his side the way he has been recently, they come about as close to unstoppable as is possible. On those nights when and in those towns where all of them stand together in support of that incomparable front man and play their best and their hardest, no one comes near to doing what they can do.

So, to my own point of view, this series of photos begins at the point where the incomparable front man is feeling like this show is finally and truly well in hand - and, of course, the youngest son of those proud parents watching him is quite deservedly walking on the moon  - now that the crowd has embraced all that has been given to them, from the gentle Sweet Forget Me Not to the urgent When I Am King to the awesome General Taylor, and they have been bound together as one attentive and supportive entity. Now it's time to have some fun.

Beginning with Scolding Wife, first shot of that wonderful little lead run Alan plays to start this song out, his face the face of a man who knows without a doubt that he is putting on a grand show.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle & Sean McCann

Murray Foster & Alan Doyle

Murray Foster

Alan Doyle, Sean McCann, Murray Foster 

After Kris lowered his mic, Alan showed his flexibility in adjusting.

Alan Doyle

Kris MacFarlane, Sean McCann

Still listening to the cheers for Scolding Wife, getting ready to beg the gentlemen's patience for the next song, which will be "for the ladies in the house", Alan says a few words about this effectively being the last night of the long road of TH&TE tour that started all the way back in January.Alan Doyle 

Heading into the singalongs...and just what is it that Murray is smiling that fondly appreciative little smile at, anyway? Not that I can blame him at all.

Alan Doyle & Murray Foster (appreciative)

Sean sings Blister.

Alan Doyle & Sean McCann

The sweetest dreams of all are made of these.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Listening to 10,000 sing Summer of '69 in the Summer of '06.

Alan Doyle

Sean McCann

A few from the living-room version of Sea Of No Cares, which went off splendidly well in the big amphitheatre.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Sean McCann

There are times when I suspect that Alan drags out the Helmethead intro as long as he can to make Bob wait the longest possible time before performing his song, Alan and Sean both. This night, Alan took time for a few sips of wine and some chat about having just completed the first quarter of their career and eventually winding up like Riverdance or a Tim Horton's franchise, Murray acknowledged his ties to his "peeps", and Sean showed off a few dance moves, all while Bob patiently waited.

Alan Doyle

Sean McCann

Bob Hallett

Finally, Bob gets his turn, and all of them put on a frantic, frenetic, and most fun Helmethead, one where Alan had trouble keeping his feet on the ground.

Alan Doyle & Bob Hallett

Murray Foster & Alan Doyle

Bob Hallett

Sean McCann & Bob Hallett

Alan Doyle

Alan finds another spotlight, and promptly waggles an alluring ass.

Alan Doyle

Sean McCann

And this is the face, the expression, that is to me the sweetest of all of that infinite variety - the face of a man who knows exactly who he is and where he belongs at that moment in time, all these things held at once in those capable hands: the rock star, the folk singer, the lead guitarist, the writer, the composer, the son, the new father, the man. This is the face I most love seeing, the face I will always feel lucky to be able to see on any night in any town, but even more so on a Big Night in the Big Smoke.

Alan Doyle, Favourite Face

Though I must confess that I will also never stop being excited when I see that Rock Star Guitar God - the face and all that follows after - either.

More in a bit, maybe a switch back to Bluesfest if I get more of those done.

"Every Move That You Make Is Amazing" - Bluesfest, Molson & A TV Composer

(Photos down below, for those not inclined toward words.)

First cool thing first - after some consideration about which cool thing to choose as going first - would be this info from Alan's latest FTR (posted after Alan managed to "lay low" for two entire days):

I just wanted to let everyone know about the re-runs of Hatching, Matching, & Dispatching happening this summer on CBC TV.  I scored just about all the music for the pilot and the six episodes of this truly bizarre comedy.  If you missed it last season, this is your chance to catch up.

Since I managed to miss every episode of HMD except the pilot (and did not know when seeing the pilot that Alan had scored the show), this is very good news. My Tuesday evenings are now booked this summer, and I can get these recorded too. Alan must have done a great job scoring these episodes, since Mary Walsh asked him to score her directorial-debut movie as well. I'm not sure if HMD has been picked up for the fall season, which may be why Alan goes on to say the following:

Check out the episodes as they roll trough the summer and pass your comments on to the CBC at:

http://www.cbc.ca/hatching 

They love to hear feedback in the summer months.

That feedback might help in ensuring that a hilarious show filled with all sorts of darkly humourous, spot-on insights into Newfoundland culture winds up on the CBC schedule come fall, and it might also give Alan Doyle, score composer, more opportunity to put his considerable talents to good use. This film/television scoring gig could really go places for him; I'm wondering if he might get a chance to do some more of it on the Lanier Phillips movie he's involved with, and maybe one of these days, he and Russell could do some collaborating on a film of their own. This hat is looking very good on Alan's head; he wears it well.

Speaking of the Man Of A Thousand Hats, this comment from that same FTR shows him wearing two of them at once, Accomplished Writer and Loving Dad at the very same moment, and wearing both of those hats quite well too:

Glad to be home during these lovely summer days in St. John's.  More glad than usual considering the recent acquisition.

Team Doyle's looking like a winner these lovely summer days. I hope he has his own grand summer (and I bet I know what he'll be doing on Tuesday nights too) and that he gets as much rest as that recent acquisition permits. Here's hoping that Alan lays only as low as what's best for him, hoping too that the upcoming movie gets a real premiere in town come fall/winter. That's something worth travellling to see.

Now I'm wondering if Alan might wind up winning his Genie before his Juno. Then there's Oscar to consider...

I do love a Renaissance Man.

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On to the other amazing moves made by that Renaissance Man, him and his compatriots alike, in this case. Ottawa's Bluesfest and Toronto's Molson each qualify for that "amazing" adjective, not a bit of doubt about it. Over the course of two days, more than 30,000 people saw and heard GBS, amazing in and of itself; each show was huge, and as similar as the set lists were (the only differences were that Something Beautiful was switched for Sweet Forget Me Not and Come And I Will Sing You was added at Molson, plus that "because it's Bluesfest" blues riff of Alan and his sizzling bass work there too), each show was distinctly different from the other.

Bluesfest was a Rock Show, wild and raucous and wonderfully over the top. Except for Bob - who spent much of the night (and especially during sound check) in his Glare And Glower (GAG, for short) Mode, so much so that a fellow near me started going off on the notion that it was his own lady friend who was Bob's principal GAG target and who kept muttering "Who the fuck does that asshole think he is?" for half the night, though the lady friend was far too entranced by Sean In Yellow to pay much heed to either the glarer or the mutterer - the rest of them played this show exactly the way it needed to be played, fast and loose, with all the stops pulled out and taking no prisoners along the way.

Even though when you looked closely at him it seemed as if Sean might not be getting his first choice of where he would most like to be at that particular moment (I wonder if maybe these repeated out-for-the-weekend-only gigs might be nearly as disruptive as are long tour legs, each in its own way), but if that was the case, he did not let it interfere with his putting on an excellent performance in which he gave his all, from singing and playing to dancing and general mischief-making, and he reprised that professionalism the next night at Molson, where it seemed even more that his heart might be elsewhere. Murray and Kris played it for fun (Murray would look to be having even more fun with "his people" the next night in Toronto) - and Kris's head looked much better in that cowboy hat he likely picked up at Stampede - and Bob eventually pulled his own head out by the latter parts of the show and at least appeared to showing some enjoyment; no matter if it was feigned or sincere, since that rowdy, pushy, wild crowd loved seeing it regardless.

Alan was exactly what I'd hoped he would be at Bluesfest: He was the Rock Star Guitar God in every inch of his brightest, sexiest, most compelling glory. It was that hope that had persuaded me to come to Bluesfest this time around and to risk dealing with that rowdy, pushy, wild crowd - all for the chance of seeing Alan play that role better than anyone else can. And did he ever play it. He pounded and posed and strutted and emoted and grinned, none of the folkie-sensibility constraint nor the shmancy-theatre restraint he's been (quite understandably and laudably) showing all along this last tour road, and he was absolutely breath-taking, literally so since I kept forgetting to breathe for inordinately long periods of time.

At one point, right after he had played a blazing WIAK lead solo, I recalled that well-intentioned fellow who had chided me by saying he wouldn't go see the Beatles as much as I go see GBS, and I laughed out loud as I answered that dear fellow in my mind, "Paul McCartney sure as hell never performed like that!" At another point, I nearly swallowed my tongue when a young lady next to me leaned toward me and yelled over the din of the music straight into my ear, "Have you ever noticed what a nice crotch Alan has?" My response? An innocent, wide-eyed, "Does he? I'll have to make a point of noticing."

The sound was shitty, and if their playing got a bit chaotic at times, exuberance compensated for exactitude, for me and for most of the crowd as well, if the unabated happy roar was a reliable indication of their response. The crowd was so enthusiastic (to put it euphemistically) that to look back over my shoulder for even a brief moment or two made me queasy from the claustrophobic realisation of how many thousands of people were pressing up toward the light and heat blazing down from the stage. Lucky me that all of that blazing light and heat were so rivetting as to keep me from thinking much at all about what was going on behind me. I was still dazzled by it hours later during what became a sleepless night before heading down to Toronto by bus the next morning.

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The Molson Amphitheatre show was, apparently, A Big Deal, not only the last night of the tour and their largest-ever paid TO crowd, as Alan noted, but also taking place in the Centre Of The Universe and attended by a pack of Warner Records label people, as Alan also noted, along with managers, booking agents, and the like. These are the kinds of shows that have the power to persuade the label to say "Yes" or "No" to what the artists want to do, reason enough all by itself to be grateful for every single one of those 10,000 singing, clapping, cheering people in attendance. Reason enough too for Sean to go the extra mile in crafting a gorgeous performance - I would have never thought a summer weekend Molson crowd that had been obsessed with foolish beachballs a few minutes earlier could be so hushed and clearly moved by Sweet Forget Me Not, but with the way Sean sang it and the way they all played it, they made it happen, and if that did not impress those label reps, then they are utter fools - even if his eyes still had that wishing-to-be-elsewhere look. Bob's wishing-to-be-elsewhere look extended beyond his eyes for much of this show too, though he would switch back to putting on a good show for some numbers, then veer back again to looking as if it could not be over soon enough to suit him, the latter demeanour really surprising me given that apparent Big Deal nature of this show and all that might potentially be at stake.

Who knows? Maybe there was something going on behind the scenes; Big Deal shows can often wind up being dog-and-pony pains in the arses, to be sure. Or maybe there was something irritating going on in the front rows that I couldn't see. I started this one out smack dab in the middle about six or seven rows back and put up with the crowd as long as I could until the quarters got too close for comfort; as I recall, it was being surrounded by the bouncy-bouncy of Paddy Murphy that pushed me over the claustrophobic edge. So I moved along shortly thereafter and joined a whole group of folks standing in the wide aisle between rows three and four, right next to a Dancing Grandma who could put the little poseur-dancer girls to shame; DG had some deadly moves.

But even from the closer vantage point, I'm not tall enough to have been able to see down into the front rows between Sean and Bob, so there might have been something going on I couldn't see that that was pissing them both off. If so, Sean rose above it beautifully and kept his performance on the rails, which is exactly what he should have been doing, given all those potentially-future-impacting Big Deal Folks in attendance. Over the course of the past year or so, my respect for Sean McCann has grown by leaps and bounds. He put on a very good show at Molson, and I don't think it was because "making his fans happy is what he most wanted to be doing at that moment"; I think he put on a very good show at Molson because he's a talented and dedicated professional who fulfills his responsibility to his band mates with skill and grace. And that impresses me a great deal.

From the start of this show, even with shitty eyesight and being back a few rows in a huge venue, I could clearly see that Alan was happy to the point of his feet threatening to refuse to remain planted on the ground. And I saw the way he kept playing to those cameras that were projecting the images onto the giant screens, so much so that I had a brief moment of feeling tempted to move back to see that show taking place too. At first, I thought, "He's over the moon tonight," and then it hit me: He's walking on the moon tonight. Not so much just the sexy Rock Star as The Man Who Has What He Wants Most At This Moment...he was Lucky Me Alan at Molson, and the expressions that moved across his face ranged from delight to introspection, pride to humility, cockiness to tenderness, a many-roomed house built on a foundation of joy. Looking back at the pictures I took at this show, Alan the endearingly difficult child, Alan the promise-filled youth, and Alan the man who is coming into his full potential can each be seen, sometimes all of them in the same photo, the depth and fullness of a man made evident in one beautifully complex expression on his face.

After having seen so much of the child, the boy, and the man revealed on his face and in his performance, it wasn't much of a surprise when he announced during the show what he'd later write in his July 9 FTR:

Many thanks for all who came and made the night special.  Special thanks to Mom and Dad who came up for the show.  It was the first time they've ever seen GBS outside of Newfoundland.  They saw little Sis Michelle play Sally Bowles in "Cabaret" at Stage West on Friday night as well.

It must be something special beyond words to be able to see your children reaching out and taking hold of their dreams; to follow the same road from Petty Harbour to Toronto that your son has travelled and to sit there while 10,000 Mainlanders scream and cheer and clap and dance and sing along both with the songs you have grown up with and taught to that son, as well as with the songs your son has himself written; to look up on that high stage and see your son as the man he is now - the brand new father he is now - as well as to see him as the child and the youth he once was. That must be an indescribably priceless experience. To know that your parents are there seeing you that way must be equally indescribable and equally priceless.

No wonder Alan was walking on the moon at Molson. May he become well-acquainted with that path and walk it often.

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Another note or two or three before a "few" pictures (my definition of "few," like my definition of "middle ground," is uniquely my own). One of the nicest results of the snubbing campaign is that, after far too long not doing this, I'm getting a chance to meet some new people, most of them either lurkers or offliners altogether. It's been a delightfully fresh perspective, a perspective I've been missing out on for some time now, truly one of those "blessings can hide" examples. Not that it's not also great to see old friends who are still old friends, a world of perspective to be found in that notion of "still" as well. For awhile there, I thought I might have permanently lost that feeling of wanting to meet other people, and I was afraid that I'd fallen into the very mindset I've been chiding some others about: not being able to see people as people, instead lumping them all together into one group and seeing them as being nothing more than "Fans." But balance is winning out and people are becoming people once again, for better as well as for worse. Some of those people truly suck, irredeemably so, and some of those people are truly wonderful, serendipitously so, with every possible nuance in-between, no matter if those people are found on stages or off stages, online or offline.

And at the end of the day, that's not what matters the most to me anyway. The light and the heat that comes blazing down from the stage will always be amply sufficient for me, regardless of the better or the worse to be found anywhere else in the venue. To be "half-broken" is by necessity to be "half-whole," and that's good enough for me.

As for photos, I'm a bit bewildered at the moment. I'm not sure which show to do first, the Rock Show that spotlights Alan in all of his sultry glory, or the Big Deal Show with all of its endearing charms. I've been skipping back and forth in editing, and I may just follow suit with that course in posting photos, some of each show, a bit at a time, an entry here at a time, eventually getting it all in order into albums. Then I can go back to the shows from the rest of the tour, maybe the Newfoundland photos too. I'm home getting my own rest for a while now, and so far, only Tuesday nights are booked solid.

So I'll start with a few from the Bluesfest sound check, for obvious aesthetic reasons, then just a few more from the show itself. Yes, I know I don't usually take sound-check photos, but at the time I thought these would be all the photos I'd be getting, since I didn't expect to be allowed to stay where I was...and there are those moments when something is simply too beautiful to resist.

Alan Doyle

Sean McCann

Murray Foster

I'm really glad I got this one - they covered up the Bluesfest banner for the set, and this one also shows their image in the camera lens as the fellow films their sound check.

Alan Doyle & Sean McCann

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

I love this photo - the cameras have stopped rolling, and now Alan is chatting with Sean, switching his ring back to his left hand, acting casually oblivious but still so aware that he's being watched and admired, standing firmly in that place that exists between being on stage and off stage (he is on the verge of doing that utterly delightful swish of his as he heads off stage), a man so appealing and endearing that my heart can't help but wonder, in spite of my head knowing all about that "personal-taste" matter, how it is that anyone is ever able to resist him, in the past, the present, or the future.

Alan Doyle

I enjoyed Corb Lund and the Hurtin' Albertans both nights (there was an opener before them at Bluesfest, but now I've forgotten who they were), even though I'm by no means a country music fan. They've got a very good steel guitar player and a great bassist; the music, which Corb terms as "nontoxic country," is just tweaky enough to get a non-C&W-loving toe tapping along. I'm not sure it was the wisest pairing with GBS, but the Bluesfest crowd, not surprisingly, seemed receptive enough, more so than the Molson crowd, again, not surprisingly.

Corb Lund

Now for that subjectively defined "few" from the show, much more to come later from both shows when I have the time to get them edited and uploaded:

A very hot Donkey Rider.

Alan Doyle, insistent

A very sweet Fountain Of Affection and Instrument Of Joy.

Alan Doyle Of Many Colours

When he is Up.

Alan Doyle & Murray Foster

A multi-percussionist.

Kris MacFarlane

The sweetest smile to be found among the 20.000 in attendance.

Alan Doyle

Time to kill that Paddy fellow again.

Sean McCann

Sean McCann

Before I saw Alan, I thought of elderly Greek gentleman when I heard the word "bouzouki". I never thought of such words as "sexy," "hot," "passionate," or "desirable". That was then, and this is now.

Alan Doyle Gorgeous

Alan Doyle Splendid

I had plenty of preconceived notions about lead electric-guitar players, though, lots of experience there. I've seen nearly all of the greatest lead guitarists. Here is a series of shots of my favourite lead guitarist, tthe King of them all, in my eyes.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle Hot

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle Rock Star

Sean sings a splendid General Taylor, while looking better in yellow than almost anyone else.

Sean McCann

Sean McCann

Sean McCann

Cute moment-a-trois during Sean's Scolding Wife verse.

Murray Foster, Sean McCann, Alan Doyle

Another Scolding moment.

  Kris MacFarlane & Alan Doyle

Singalongs and Run, Runaway.

Murray Foster & Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle Ablaze

Sean McCann

Alan Doyle

Living-Room Sea Of No Cares (Blue On Sean).

Sean McCann Beautiful In Blue

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Heading into Mari Mac, which is as far as I've gotten with this show's photos.

Sean McCann Mari Mac Face

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A last note for now, in the hopes of forestalling the sending of yet more of those "you're picking on Bob by not taking photos of him" comments from various Bob's Girls, a concept so ludicrous that Bob and I might actually be in agreement for once about how silly it truly is. The following photo shows how Bob looked each time I glanced over at him during this show, at least up until near the end of the show, around the time he sang Helmethead and then on into the encores, where he will appear in a few group shots as soon as I get those shots edited. But before that, this is what I saw, and this is what I did not photograph, beyond this one example, and I feel more than a little unkind/intrusive about taking and posting this one. 

Now maybe my timing for looking over that way just sucked that night, or maybe I was far too entranced by that dazzling fellow two mics over and missed all sorts of charming smiles and winning ways down at the other end of the stage. Maybe something unpleasant had gone on backstage before the show, or maybe someone wasn't feeling good that night. Or maybe it really was all about "concentration". In the immortal words of Nestor Estrada, "Yeah, yeah, whatever". All I know is that photos did not feel appropriate, from either an aesthetic standpoint or from a courtesy/consideration perspective, though I did get a few decent shots the next night at the Molson show, since the mood there seemed considerably better, even if not exactly consistently cheerful.

**********************************************************************************************************************

There's already a shitload of photos in this entry and I do apologise to those on dialup. I won't add a bunch more Molson photos for that reason, but there are two photos I didn't want to wait to share, one of them a "this sums up the show for me" photo, and the other photo being one for the heart. As it is so many times, my show-summation comes from what I see in Alan's face as he gazes out into the crowd, listening to them sing his Ordinary Day lyrics back to him, this time singing those lyrics in a voice 10,000-strong. The knowledge that his Mom and Dad were also there in the midst of that 10,000-voice-strong choir makes this look all the more touching.

Alan Doyle

And that same knowledge makes this final shot from the Molson show, all the more priceless.

Alan Doyle being Alan Doyle

Every move that he makes....amazing.

More to come.

"Life Will Be All That You Make It"

I'm sure I'll have a lot more to offer about this blessed event and my newest and biggest hat as Dad, but for now I'll just say this. No matter how happy you are, having a child instantly makes you 100 times happier. As soon as the child arrives, you instantly have 100 times more Love to give than you ever imagined possible.

Lucky Me. - Alan's FTR Journal

I didn't read Alan's latest journal entry until I returned to my room after the Bluesfest show. All through that show, I'd been thinking that he looked happy, looked like he was having a wonderful time with what he was doing, as well as with who he is. In what was a slightly chaotic but overwhelmingly fun show, his smile was the brightest light shining through on that stage. Out of my usual umpteen photos, with the usual umpteen-minus-only-a-few being photos of Alan, this one best sums up the tone of last night's evening, as my eyes saw it, as my ears heard it, and as my heart responded to what I saw and heard:

Alan was the Rock Star in all of his brightest glory, he was the confident commander, he was the endearing charmer. And he was the man with the beautiful smile that so clearly tells the world how lucky he knows he is, the smile that makes us realise how lucky we are in turn to be able to answer him with smiles of our own. His is a head capable of wearing each and every one of those hats with accomplishment and grace, this "newest and biggest hat" most of all. And if he has indeed realised that his is a heart that has far more love to give than he'd imagined possible, all I can say is that I don't share in his surprise over that realisation; I have never had a moment's doubt about his heart and its capacity for love. Of all the good things I could say about my own Dad - a travelling man in his own right - the best would be how proud I was and still am of what a good heart he had; I have not a bit of doubt that there is now a little boy in St. John's who will know this same feeling about his own Dad.

********************************************************************************************************************

Overall, the show was a blast, full of energy and enthusiasm, a continuing series of jokes about Alan's virgin experience that day with beaver tails, music played hard and well and with glorious flourish and dramatic effect, and also with the usual raucous crowd (though not quite as raucous as it sounds like their Calgary crowd was) and sketchy sound. All of what to expect - as well as to hope for - from a Bluesfest show. After seeing so many shows this past tour in the "the-ah-tre" settings, I'd wondered how it would go with switching back to a no-holds-barred playing-it-balls-to-the-wall outdoor GA show, especially in a town known for its exuberant GBS crowds. It was fun - rowdy and silly and delightful fun in a way that no one does better than they do.

They made good changes to that two-act set list of the past tour, some excellent picking and choosing to condense it down into one set, with some of the songs from TH&TE making the cut: Charlie Horse, Captain Kidd, and then with River Driver as an awesome encore song, and I loved Alan's description of River Driver as "a Newfoundland love song"; listening to him sing it (spectacular performance of this one, one that came close to hushing that huge crowd of 20.000 rowdy people standing beneath the stars on a summer night in Ottawa), for a moment I was back in the Humber Valley, driving along that river through those deep woods, hearing Alan's voice as clearly there as I was hearing here. Both of the Electric Alan songs made their way onto the stage, which pleased me to no end, and it was so good to hear Something Beautiful again; if only they'd done Process Man in the main show the way they did it in sound check, it would have come close to being an ideal set.

As good as it all was, as spectacular as they played it, most of all with Alan making his most flamboyantly glorious Rock Star moves, I think my favourite moment was when he picked up Murray's bass and started wailing away on it when they came back onstage for the second encore. After all of this time, you'd think I'd know by now you can't scream with delight and take decent photos at the same time; you'd think I'd be past being able to get so rattled and excited by much of anything at their shows. And you'd think wrong - I got excited and rattled, I screamed with delight, and shaky hands took predictably shitty photos. Those photos to come of that moment, though they will come nowhere near to the wonderful memories that will last forever.

That sound check was fun in and of itself - and I finally broke one of my own cardinal rules and took pictures during it...all I can do is plead a fundamental lack of resistance when it comes to Alan in shorts and playing Les - and through some process I don't really understand, it wound up with a small group of us being allowed to stay in the main concert area when it was supposed to be cleared and closed off. Again, typical Bluesfest with the disorganisation, but no complaints from me. It worked out great for the couple next to me, both Ottawa residents who'd never seen GBS live and neither of whom had ever been front row for any show. They got a wonderful first experience on both counts, and all of it because the fellow came over to watch sound check.

Alan's not the only one who can pull off wearing multiple hats with skill and aplomb; collectively, GBS is doing just that in terms of their performances. The Bluesfest show is miles away from the kind of show they put on for most of the past tour, and the Molson show will be something else again, huge like Bluesfest but far more disciplined with all that reserved seating and a fundamentally different kind of crowd from both the outdoor-GA and the shmancy-theatre crowds. I'd imagine that flashy Calgary Stampede show they did before Bluesfest called for its own measure of performance adaptations on their part too. Watching how they take so much of the same material into such different atmospheres and find a way to make it work for each of those different crowds has never stopped being fascinating, impressive as hell too; it's an accomplishment of versatility and adaptation that goes beyond what I've ever seen any other band come close to achieving, and it's something they are still growing into and getting better at, even after all these years. They're certainly still capable of amazing me with their performances and, most of all, with how well they do at getting it just right for their crowd of the evening.

And when he is wearing his front-man hat, whether in his confidently commanding Rock Star mode or in his sweetly endearing Folk Singer mode, Alan has no equal - rowdy festival, shmancy theatre, funky bar, cool club, and massive amphitheatre alike. But as great as he currently is at what he does, he's getting better at it too, with this hat and with all of those other hats, still so much potential that's just now being tapped into and so much room for growth in the days to come, growth on fronts both professional and personal. When a man is "100 times happier" and has "100 times more love to give" than he'd thought possible, then there isn't much else that isn't also possible for that man to accomplish. Exciting times ahead.

A great many photos to come, eventually. I'm expecting that Molson tonight will be no-photos (side note for Molson: For anyone heading that way, be sure not to miss openers Corb Lund and the Hurtin' Albertans, who are genunely "alt-country" at its best), so I wanted to be sure to get what I could at Bluesfest. It will be a few days before they're done though, a few days before I'm back online too, most likely, depending on where I wind up staying when I get to Toronto.

Until then, one last photo, a picture of a look that touched me and moved me most of all in this show. Of all the wonderful moments of Rock Star guitar-pounding and alluring posturing and posing - and I do so very much love those moments, as the photos will eventually show - this moment, which took place during the last seconds of the show, right before Alan blew his final kiss to his crowd and smiled his final lighthouse-beacon smile, made the greatest impression on me. partly because it is such an open and honest expression on a face that has an infinite variety of expressions, and partly because he looked to me like a man who is getting a glimpse into his own future, the future that he has the power to shape with his own hands and his own heart, the Face of the Rock in all of its promise and potential.

And of course, there is the whole "beautiful man" part of it, but that one is more or less a given.

"No Reason Left To Hide"

Editing this in: My thanks to Stephen for showing me how to set up a separate weblog for all the links to the older FTR archives, as well as for the complete and unobscured text of the entries from the last tour. That FTR weblog can be found here:

Alan's FTR Archives 

and the same link is going to stay up here permanently on the main page of my blog, right beneath the other two links for what will presumably be his "active" journals.

There's sure to be a better way to do this, and I'll spend some time thinking about what that way might be while I'm heading home via Ottawa and Toronto this weekend. But for now, this is how it's going to be done. Everything I am posting here can be found over on the official GBS site, at least for now it can all be found there, but it's not exactly easy or convenient or readily accessible there these days, for whatever reason. And that seems such a shame to me, whenever excellent writing is hidden away, so much so that I'm going to try to make it a bit easier for those of us who enjoy the Uniquely Alan point of view and who respect and admire his skill as a writer.

Alan's FTRs 2004

Alan's FTRs 2003

Alan's FTRs 2002

A few entries that have been pulled over from those he made on the original FTR journal during the tour breaks, including his impressive comments in regard to Paul McC and the sealing industry, can be found in the Off The Road journal, and what is apparently going to be his "current" tour journal - Alan: From The Road, which is already linked here - has only a single, solitary post so far. Here's hoping both of those journals see no shortage of new words added to them soon, even though it still seems a bit foolish for there to be the two journals, since the thoughts and words of the one man are what matter, not whether that man is thinking and writing while on the road or off the road. But the way that those two journals set up in such a way as to define his life in terms of the road (him being either on it or off it) does have a decided ring of truth.

Then there are all the rest of Alan's entries made during this past tour, the ones that are obscured behind that silly map on the official site: The Hard & The Easy Tour Map Game/FTRs All well and good for those of a mind to play games, but for those of us who prefer to read, here are those same words in a format more amenable to literary appreciation. I'll also put the links to the older FTRs in the main links list by the time I post my next entry here, and I'll try to figure out a way to set up a permanent direct link for these liberated-from-the-silly-map entries as well. And if any of these FTR-archive links should happen to go dead, for whatever reason, no worries, since all of Alan's excellent words are safely saved, even backed up, unaccustomed diligence on my part.

Those who believe it's all about the music are most welcome to continue thinking that way. As for me, as splendid as that music is, it is still very much about the writing, and the man who does that writing so well, along with all the other things he does so well.

"A Message From Above"

When I was in university, every morning I made certain that my path took me past the Physics Building, not because I had any classes there (not many English lit classes held in that building, though I did eventually take an interdisciplinary humanities/science anthro class there), but because I wanted to start each new day out looking up to see the inscription that was carved in stone over the building's main doors, that famous quote of Faraday's that summed up the world as I saw it at the time:

Nothing is too wonderful to be true if it be consistent with the laws of nature.

"Nothing is too wonderful to be true" resonated with all of the hope and promise and potential that seemed near ready to manifest themselves in tangible form at that time, and I embraced the notion in both heart and hand as a treasure of great worth. It wouldn't be until quite a few years had passed that I'd discover the other side of that same coin - that if it is indeed so that nothing is too wonderful to be true, then it will be equally so that nothing is too terrible to be true - and when I finally learned that lesson, the coin's true worth could be accurately measured, and the times that coin landed wonderful-side-up could be even more keenly appreciated.

The first step to discovering treasure is having the faith that the treasure actually exists; these days, I believe in the wonderful as surely as I believe in the terrible, and since the latter can so seldom be avoided, it makes sense to me to keep a sharp eye on the lookout for the former, so that when when I do stumble upon that which truly is wonderful, I can recognise it for what it is. That sharp eye served me well five years ago as I sat watching and listening while a sweetly endearing and prodigiously talented songwriter revealed his own great worth, and over the course of these past years there has been so much of both the wonderful and the terrible that I've come to have such a sure belief in both that next to nothing surprises me anymore. But every now and then, the wonderful still catches me off guard. So does the terrible, but that's a cost worth paying for what that price purchases. Who would ever expect wonder not to come dear?

I had one of those off-guard moments a few days ago, surprised by wonder, touched and moved by a moment of truth and beauty both physical and metaphorical, thought-provoking and maybe even a bit spooky. And all of this because of Alan's face.

I've been fascinated by Alan's face from those first moments of seeing him during that televised Songwriters' Circle in 2001. It was all that could be read on his face that drew me inexorably up to the edge of the stage during that first show at Bumbershoot as well. On stage at show after show (after show), off stage during interviews or in pubs or on the street, in the clearest as well as in the shittiest of photographs, even in the direct gaze of being chastised about how I should or should not be living my life - I have been entranced and intrigued, inspired and moved, by that most expressive of all faces, watching raptly as thought and emotion pass restlessly on its surface, storm and calm, sunshine and cloud, kindness and impatience, anger and laughter, need and calculation, ruthlessness and tenderness, fear and assurance, regret and hope - sometimes taking turns in rapid succession, other times occuring simultaneously in crashing contradiction, with eyes and lips and eyebrows interrupting one another and talking over one another in the telling of their own conflicting tales. Time and time again, the same thought has crossed my mind: To see that face for all that it is and for all that it can be is to do the same with the place from which it comes and which shaped it, the response to the one inseparable from the response to the other. 

Over the past few years, as I've spoken to more and more Newfoundlanders at home and away, more importantly as I've listened to them and watched them as they told their own stories, I have seen so many of the same individual expressions on their faces that I've watched come and go on Alan's face - the exquisitely familiar teasing waggle of the eyebrows, a sardonic quirk of the mouth, a sudden stubborn set of the chin, an impatient flash of the eyes - small glimpses in his fellow countrymen of what can be found in its fullness on a face I've come to think of as encompassing a full range of cultural expressiveness, a face that has in many ways become to me a road map of Newfoundland herself, even more so with the passage of time and an increasing willingness for self-revelation.

This is the perspective I packed in my bag along with the more prosaic road map and took with me these past few days as we headed out to explore the west coast of Newfoundland, along with the Great Northern Peninsula, to see with my own eyes the deep, deep woods and great big mountains of River Driver and all of the show-staging spots for the loving and supple along the French Shore, to search out the beauty and the grandeur I have seen reflected nightly on that beautifully expressive face as Alan has introduced the songs.

I found it, all of it and more: the dark cool shade of the thick forest, the majestic awe of the glacially sculpted mountains, the stark desolation of the limestone barrens, the enduring massiveness of the tablelands, the seductive fertility of the boglands, the restless crash of waves against resistant rock. And at the end of every road, there was a town, sometimes nestled away in a protected cove, other times facing boldly into the buffeting winds, tiny towns and their inhabitants alike rooted deeply in place and time, a pivotal part of each of those towns abiding in that place of belonging no matter how far away some of the inhabitants might be wandering.

Because of my road-map perspective, I saw much that was familiar everywhere I went, in both people and places, from the sweetly salacious gleam in the eye of a charming folk artist to the stubborn confidence of the little tree that had put down obdurate roots into the windswept rock at the top of the sea arch. When we made our way up the fjord-become-a-pond in Gros Morne and I looked up at those magnificent cliffs towering majestically above me, up into the face of the granite that was born in fire and has been sculpted over the years by the inexorable ice, irresistible force and relentless pressure eroding away all that was weakest and revealing that which is strongest and most beautiful, that too was familiar, having been seen so many times before before on that equally beautiful road map.

As our boat rounded a curve, I glanced up at the top of the south side cliffs and was promptly blindsided by wonder. The tour guide began to describe a peculiar rock formation that looked like the face of a man gazing up at the sun in the sky, but I had already seen that man, seen him so many other places and now here as well, the whole notion of seeing his face in the place from which he comes suddenly made more literally true than even I'd thought possible.

   

The face I saw in the face I saw:

One of those perfect moments when wonder is most certainly consistent with the laws of nature, and you know without a doubt that you're in the presence of both beauty and truth.

I'll post the rest of the photos and write more in a bit about all that we saw and did during these travels, for sure more about those towns. It looks as if I am going to be haunted by those towns - there are so many of them, each of them the anchor point for those who belong to them, and right now I can't see how future events can possibly unfold in any way that will not result in many if not most of those people being cut adrift as their anchor points are left behind on the tide of time and change; not a new thought, but one that cuts far more deeply now.

It is one thing to read names on a map, even to meet people from Port au Choix or Cox's Cove or New Ferolle or Flower's Cove or Great Brehat or Conche in places far away from those homes, but another thing altogether to see those homes, and the people still living there, with your own eyes. There are times when the inevitability of change and all of the uncertainlty that goes with such changes is troubling to the point of distraction, but there's some comfort to be found in the thought of how we are all shaped by irresistible forces and relentless pressures, the beauty and potential of that which is strongest being revealed as the weaker parts are ground away, truth made manifest by the hand of erosion. It's as true for changes in our family lives or where we live as it is true for the changes that shape mountains.  Those towns will still haunt me, as will concerns for the changes those I love are presently enduring, but at least it will be a hopeful sort of haunting, one that still believes there is nothing too wonderful to be true, no matter what the circumstances. Sometimes it may be hard to find the wonderful, but other times, all you have to do is lift up your eyes and smile into the face of discovered treasure.