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

"Colours Ablaze In The Evening" Part 1.5 - Taking A Little Time With The Seattle ZooTunes Show

A few views of the Seattle ZooTunes show, with more to come when I figure out how to write about that show.

Alan Doyle, Lion King

Sean "Jerome" McCann

Bob Hallett, Accordion Cool

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

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There are times when I'm not sure if I should be writing about Great Big Sea shows, times when I wonder if perhaps my perspective is too different from that of so many people for anything I have to say about my own GBS show experience to resonate with the experiences of others. As much as it truly is "all your state of mind," I'm not at all convinced that there's a great deal of commonality anymore even for something as fundamental as the reason for being at the show in the first place: The fundamental purpose - The Point Of The Matter, as it were - of a GBS show isn't about how it makes me feel, and much of the time for most of the people I share shows with, how the show makes them feel does seem to be that Point Of The Matter. Nothing inherently wrong with either view, of course - states of mind, and all that - only different.

For the most part at least, my Point Of The Matter for GBS shows doesn't have much to do with me - no searching for emotional catharsis or getting a fix or spending a evening in HappyLand or finding self-worth in a moment of attention from on high or perfecting the art of the being and becoming of bimbodom. And while I know there really are some whose main purpose for being at a GBS show is a love of the music, while I share that love I can't claim that's my own main purpose either; I don't go to a GBS show for to experience the perpetual pleasure of hearing Donkey Riding done live, even if I would likely go to a show for the sole reason of experiencing the utter delight of seeing Straight To Hell performed - though you'd be getting closer to that purpose if you suggested it might be found in the actual performance of that much-loved music. But still not quite there yet.

One way to gauge the power of a performance - to measure the magic, if you will - is how that performance impacts a given audience. But for as fascinating as that impact invariably is at GBS shows, it's still one crucial step removed from the primary purpose for my own show attendance. Not for how it makes me feel, not for how it appears to make the crowd feel...what moves my mind and touches my heart the most about GBS shows is what can be seen of how those shows appear to impact the players, most especially the one player who I think is the best of all I've seen come before him.

That is the Point Of The Matter to me, my own personal State Of Mind.

If that sometimes means my perspective of a show varies from that of others, that's not so bad, I suppose. For those who prefer to read about how exceptional every Great Big Sea show is, I think most know where they can find that point of view. For those who want to read about how exceptional the men of Great Big Sea are, with a certain self-confessed bias toward one of those men being the most exceptional of all, that group of readers will always be able to find that point of view here.

But then there are the times they might have to wait a bit for that point of view, this being one of those times. I'm still thinking about what to say in regard to the Seattle ZooTunes show, still going through the photos too. Thinking before I speak is nearly as new to me as is that pesky obedience thing, but I am learning the new tricks, albeit slowly. What I saw at both the Edmonton and Seattle shows made a strong impression on me - and I will admit to a certain amount of frustration over the missing puzzle pieces of Fort Mac and Calgary, but not so much that I'd do it any differently - and when I get that strong impression sorted out, I'll write about it, as well as add in some of what turned out to be gorgeous natural-light photos in Seattle and the rest of the Edmonton shots too.

Until then, I think I will close for now with one point and one photo to suffice for the time being. The point is to be found in the question I asked myself as we were driving home after this show: If that show had been the first time I'd ever seen GBS, what would my response have been? It's speculation, of course, but I believe that I'd have come away from last night's show thinking that I might possibly just have gotten a glimpse of something with the potential to be both wonderful and beautiful, something exceptional and extraordinary, something I would want to see more and hear more and come to know better.

One last photo to make that same point much more succinctly, this from Old Brown's Daughter:

Alan Doyle

"Colours Ablaze In The Evening" Part One - Opening GBS Summer Tour '07 At EdFest With A Bang

Passion and tenderness in Sea Of No Cares at EdFest.

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Since I spent too much time fooling around with photos this morning, I have hardly any time for words right now. So words will have to wait until after I get home, maybe until after the Seattle show. Yes, I am going West, not North, today, even though a few locals I trust pooh-poohed the dire warnings I'd gotten about the safety of going to Fort Mac solo. It was still tempting, but, somewhat to my own surprise, in about an hour I plan to obediently (man, that word is hard just to type, let alone to live up to) and a bit bemusedly stick with what I said I was going to do - head back and wait for the Seattle ZooTunes show.

So if there are mistakes in this, they'll have to wait till I get back to be corrected, which I hate, but I hate paying extra for a hotel room and missing my bus in the (bad) bargain even more.

One thing I will say about the EdFest show is that I think GBS played it perfectly. It was the classic Canadian Summer Festival setlist - they gave that crowd (a very good crowd, thousands and thousands of cheerful, well-behaved people, one of the nicest huge GA-standing GBS crowds I've been a part of in a while) exactly what they wanted to hear. And along with that, they gave that good crowd a new song to be adding to their Most Want To Hear At Summer-Festivals-To-Come List: Straight To Hell. It was the highlight of my night, and it sure looked like a lot of people hearing STH for the first time are going to want to be hearing it every time in the future. Straight To Hell is, in my opinion, what good songwriting is all about: It's rowdy and raucous fun, and it's also intelligent, perceptive, and thought-provoking, as well as honest; it doesn't really get any better than that, from a writing standpoint. From a performance standpoint, the song is superb.

GBS kicked off their Summer Tour with a bang last night, playing this show so hard that Alan especially looked as if he had given about all there was for the giving by show's end. As inarguably alluring as are the charms of the Black Dog - and I'd glady give him the half hour (or half a day, half a lifetime even) he needs to tell his Tale of the Black Dog Bartender - I hope he gets some rest between Edmonton and Fort Mac. He's going to need it if they play that one the way they played EdFest; that and a new endless supply of water for the thirstiest of hard-working front men.

First up was a solid opening set by Jeremy Fisher (I am betting my Paul-Simon-loving companion to the Seattle show is going to love this music), backed by a very good band, especially the woman on keyboards.

That big screen at the back of the stage made for some fascinating views (and a few interesting photographs) during GBS's set.

EdFest GBS setlist. Because of time constraints, both River Driver and Old Black Rum had to be dropped (note: "Shines" is Everything Shines, not Shines Right Through Me - as good as it was to hear the former again, I did miss hearing the latter...the GBS World  As We Know It will not end if there are 3 electric-guitar songs in the main set of a show). As it was, the 11 pm fireworks began going off as the last notes of Fortune were played. Given the intensity of their show, especially the way Alan had been blazing across the stage all night, those fireworks felt like a natural progression from what had gone before.

Something Beautiful, with Bob on the big screen behind Alan.

Captain Kidd. 

Paddy Murphy.

Alan feels sexy on this night. Sean feels Alan to see if this is true, and says it is. Alan says he is comfortable letting Sean 'into his space".

Alan being King.

General Taylor.

Alan's not the only one capable of a sweet face on stage, this during the Rover intro.

There are times when a photo works out in very unexpected ways. This is Beat The Drum, I believe.

Alan charming the crowd.

Beat The Drum.

Singalongs, Bohemian Rhapsody.

Of all Alan's modes and moods and poses and positions, this is the one - him at stage edge, watching as his crowd does his bidding, totally assured of his complete control - that I enjoy most, since it seems the most like what he was born to be doing.

The coolest thing about that screen was being able to see the crowd that Alan is looking at.

Expertly strutting his stuff.

The Sweet Smile.

Living Room Sea Of No Cares.

Straight To Hell, with a smile upon my face.

Helmethead.

Excursion.

Blazing instruments in Fortune.

This last shot sums up this show in some ways, at least it sums up the show as I saw it. There are shows - and this was one of them - at the end of which Alan gets this expression on his face, looking for all the world as if he has poured so much of himself - heart, soul, energy, passion, and endurance - into this night's performance that he is nearing the limit of his resources. It's an expression that's moving, unsettling, and fascinating all at once, with the single most striking (sometimes haunting) aspect of it being that he also looks as if he has just spent himself in achieving the desire of his first choosing.   

As Alan has been known to say on occasion, we all get only so many summers, so we should make each of them the best summers of our lives. I hope that's how Summer Tour 2007 winds up for them.

"These Days I Feel A Change" Part 5 - Tempest In A P.O. Box, Final Warner Theatre Show Photos & Smiling At The Summer Sky (ETA: And Looking Forward To Russell Crowe, Alan Doyle & TOFOG In January)

Editing in a piece of news that has made my day, made all of my days between today and January 26th, which, along with being Australia Day, is when there will be a very special joint event taking place in Jacksonville, Florida. First up is an exhibition rugby game between the South Sydney Rabbitohs (co-owned by a fellow named Russell Crowe) and the Leeds Rhinos. Exciting enough all on its own, but thereafter it gets even better: a same-day concert by The Ordinary Fear Of God, a most excellent group quite ably fronted by that same man of many talents, Russell Crowe.

The very best of all, to my own way of thinking, is the much-appreciated news out today that Alan will indeed be taking part in this TOFOG concert. "Delighted" does not even come near describing my reaction to this news. Alan Doyle and Russell Crowe together again is something I've been waiting for since I heard them play their last note during the Australia Day show in Canberra in 2006. I just remembered that I've got the Oz Day hat I got at that Canberra show with me now; perfect timing for what to wear to today's show. I could wear my Souths jersey too, but that might be overkill.

Since it seems to matter to Russell that people who are interested in attending this double-edged delight of a day speak up as to those intentions, here's the link to a Guestbook where you can say "Yes" officially. Most definitely, absolutely, unequivocally yes.

The first time I ever went to Jacksonville was for an Uprooted show in the sultry summer of 2002, our intial show on what became a long road trip. The second time I went to Jacksonville, it was in the spring of 2003 to see GBS play at the utterly dismal Jack Rabbit's, the name of the tacky little club painted with ignoble carelessness on the front door in splotchy red paint. Regardless of the setting, it was a great show, as had been the Uprooted show before it. I have a hard time imagining Russell Crowe at Jack Rabbit's - although a few of the places Russell, Alan, and the rest of TOFOG played in Australia during the 2005/2006 tour were not exactly posh - but no matter where this show winds up being, I know it too is going to be great, not a single doubt in my mind, especially after hearing today's news.

I was already smiling enough about the show tonight. Now I'm grinning like a giddy fool about what's yet to come. I do believe the third time in Jacksonville is going to be the charm.

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The first picture is here is to prove that I really do look other places during the shows, occasionally at least. Actually, at the Warner Theatre show, I watched everyone on stage a good deal, and wound up with far fewer pictures than is usual because of it. This was the last show for awhile and this was the close of a tour that had much that was good about it, much to watch and much to applaud as well. Full-size versions of all photos again to be found below.

Sean McCann & Bob Hallett

Though when I did go from watching and applauding to remembering my camera, most of the photos I took at this show were of the man who was ending this tour with such an insistent, captivating performance. (Every time I look at the first picture in this next series of photos, one of my favourite old Beatles tunes starts playing again in my mind: I've just seen a face can't forget...)

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Finally, as gorgeous of an impassioned face as this inarguably is, it's still an absolute bloody shame to crop away the rest of the take-your-breath-away body and body language that go so well with that impassioned face in this photo, as a single glance at the full version to be found down below will verify. Alan Doyle

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A note in regard to the Tempest In A Postal Box: With thanks to Laura for pointing this out to me since I'd missed it when I went there to check for a new journal entry from Alan, there's now an explanation written by Bob  (technically, it's an explanation written by "The band," but writing style will out, more often than not) on the GBS official site. Looks as if I wasn't the only one who heard complaining about this.

On the one hand, I agree with Laura, who pointed out that the mundane never need have turned into a kerfuffle necessitating a "note from the boys" in further explanation if the original announcement - "The postal address that appears on the Contact Information page is no longer active" - had been more clear. Now the box is described as being "temporarily closed," and if that had been how it had been described to start with, that would have taken care of things quite nicely. But that presupposes that the hired hand making the original closure announcement had been given the full story, which could possibly be a rash assumption given the clients with which that hired hand is dealing.

Same goes for the somewhat blundering nature of admin responses to the subsequent complaints (Here's the address for new GBS box! You can send everything here now, though we won't come right out and say this is the address of our own business! Oops, then again, maybe not...was bad enough, but "The boys love their fans" was truly cringe-worthy in terms of how to - and how not to - write a professionally-worded response) that arose from an understandable perception of the box having been permanently closed; it at least sounds as if that hired hand had not a bloody clue about what was actually going on with the box and was bound and determined not to admit to that lack of knowledge. No gold stars being handed out to anyone for Effective Communication Skills this time, though Bob does deserve credit for the (slightly belated) clarification effort he really shouldn't have had to make in the first place.

On the other hand, I hope a few who wrote rather harsh and condemning responses about GBS in regard to this matter are a bit less perturbed with me for deciding against posting those responses, though I won't be so disingenuous as to claim my reluctance to post such snark was based on any tender-hearted concern for the snarkers, rather than the snarkees. And I'll also admit that the last comment I got - the one that even-more-snarkily predicts that the St. John's-based GBS snail-mail box will re-open on the very same day that the notifications to the "winners" in the GBS T-Shirt Logo Competition are ready to go out and the upcoming nationwide Great Big Sea Fan Meet And Greet Event is announced - made me laugh. No way to know for sure if this is a true prediction, and for the record I'm hoping it is not, but if it were, I'd add on to it by saying that this would also be the same day that GBS adds Barrett's Privateers and Farewell To Nova Scotia to their permanent setlist. And the same day GBS announces its multi-year commitment to sail the high seas along with their most fervently dedicated fans on the Rock Boat. Oh yes, and the same day that Bob himself writes "We boys love our fans". Hey, if you're going to write a story, you should give that story a good plot.

How does that snippy little saying I first heard over in the Russell Crowe fan group go again?..."With sufficient thrust, pigs fly amazingly well". 

No more about the frigging postal box. Period. There's a show tomorrow (later today, actually) and I am now officially distracted away from the mundane.

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I like Edmonton, have since the very first time I came here, back in 2002 for the Sea Of No Cares shows,which was held at what's now called Rexall Place, then bearing the more romantic moniker of Skyreach Centre. I'm here for what's now called Capital Ex, again a bland new name superseding the more evocative Klondike Days. Speaking of new names, I've already had a dozen or so people refer to Fort Mac as "Fort Crack," evocative enough in and of itself. Booms are their own busts, in some ways; it makes me wonder just what it is so many Newfoundlanders working up in the oilsands might wind up bringing back home with them, and it makes me think my decision to skip going solo to the show after this one may have been a wise one.

It's been since 2002 since I saw Fort Mac too. I liked the people I met there then, locals and non-locals alike, though the strains of change were already apparent enough to this child of rampant growth and massive immigration, all to familiar with the cycles of booms that invariably go bust. I spent a day and a half walking around Fort Mac on my own that time, wandering at will as my travelling companions opted instead to rest up, and now I'm being told repeatedly not to go there by myself. As we drove out of Fort Mac back then, I remember thinking that if Fort Mac's boom continued, the worst was still ahead for all of those people. There's more than one way to lose the Home you've grown up knowing and loving. There are those times when Change sucks very much, and not in the good way.

Yes, I'm still tempted to go,very tempted. But since I can't find a way to argue around ordeal avoidance, I won't. This time. Talk about changes, albeit reluctant ones.

Sometimes changes are big and noisy, other times quiet and subtle. I noticed one of the latter in myself on the bus ride here. I took some extra time to get here via a roundabout route, one I'd never taken before ('brand new road"  being three of the most exciting words in the English language, as far as I am concerned) and one that included a gorgeous route over the mountains I tend to call "the American Rockies". It's a phrase the use of which immediately sets you apart, I've noticed. Of course, most Americans simply call that part of the range south of the Canadian  border "The Rockies" and the part north of the border "The Canadian Rockies," not unlike how the differentiating terms "bacon" and "Canadian bacon" are commonly used - what stunned expressions I've seen on the faces of so many American tourists in Canada when they're asked What kind of bacon they would like...invariably, the answer is a semi-bewildered, "I just want bacon. Regular bacon! Just normal bacon, please".

Interestingly, the majority of Canadians I've heard talking don't call the southern part of the chain the "American Rockies"; for the most part, they simply use the undifferentiated term "The Rockies" to describe the entire mountain range, again, not unlike the usage of the word "bacon". I'm not sure why it is I now think in terms of the American Rockies and the Canadian Rockies, though I have noticed that some of the people I meet from the UK and Australia have a tendency to speak the same way. It's a change, small and quiet and subtle on the face of it, but perhaps saying something more significant about shifting perspective and sense of belonging.

Still, same as with the rose, by any other name those craggy peaks would still be an awe-inspiring sight, sheer and lofty magnificence soaring up into a brilliantly blue summer sky; the perfect time and the perfect place to be on a road leading, stubbornly if somewhat circuitously, to a desired destination. As much as there is to love in and about places on two opposite sides of this continent, being out on such a road and headed toward such a destination is enough to leave me smiling at that brilliantly blue sky and being grateful for the re-arranging of some patterns. And if I really want to use literary parallelism, I suppose I'll just have to go ahead and say that there are also those time when Change sucks very much in the good way.

On to wrap up the last of the Warner Theatre, closing show of GBS Spring Tour 2007, while looking forward to the opening salvo of GBS Summer Festival Tour 2007.

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Now for all of the pictures, full-sized versions, from Helmethead through the end of this show.

Helmethead - Sean lurks and Bob looks quite understandably wary. When Sean looks that innocent, it's wise to stay alert.

Sean McCann & Bob Hallett

Bob Hallett

Run, Runaway Singalongs - his success at getting the crowd in the mood to sing showing clearly.

Alan Doyle

Lukey, coming to a reluctant end.

Alan Doyle

Alan signs t-shirts people at stage edge have pushed up into his hands right as the second set ends; Kris looks ready for this night to be over.

Alan Doyle & Kris MacFarlane

First Encore - Boston had been on the setlist, but instead they did one of the most stirring River Drivers I've seen. They all sounded wonderful to my ears, although my eyes could see only Alan. The third shot still takes my breath away when I look at it, just the same as it did when I took the picture.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

A final triumphant double-fist-pump at the end of Excursion.

Alan Doyle

Fortune, still with the same (unapologetically) captivated gaze.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Second Encore - Heaven on Earth with Straight To Hell, rendering Cloud Nine thoroughly superfluous..

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle & Murray Foster

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

After that, all that was left to close out Great Big Sea's Spring Tour 2007 was a slightly weary and very sweet Old Brown's Daughter at stage edge.

Ending the tour with Old Brown's Daughter (video download, 108 MB)

Even if they don't sing the "grumbles in his little parlour" verse anymore these days, still, "pulverised" is a wonderfully apt word to describe the effect of the song, as well as the effect of this show. No doubt that same effect will keep right on going strong in the shows to come: There are some things in this inconstant world that are never going change.

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Last note: Thanks to the folks who told me the blog was offline for quite some time yesterday. Turns out it was a big power outage of some sort for Typepad. I got a nice little apology email from them too - quite professionally worded, I must say - even though I'd had no clue it had happened. But they probably heard plenty from others who did know about it - yet another tempest, this time on a web page.

"These Days I Feel A Change" Part Four - A Warner Theatre King & The Master Of Change

A few years ago, a photographer friend told me that I needed to change how I was framing and cropping pictures of Alan. My pictures would be great, he told me, if only I'd be more willing to crop away more of the body to direct most of the focus to the face. Blunt as always, my friend said, "You need to stop liking this guy's body so much."

Easier said than done. Though the face has fascinated from the first as well. Still, it's a very nice body we're talking about here. Decisions, decisions. So, for now, a bit more of cropped closer shots from the Warner Theatre show to begin with, with the full-size shots to be found below the text.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Yeah, I do like that face.

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I don't have much time before I have to leave this morning. It looks like the final set of shots will have to wait until after I get into Edmonton, which should be Wednesday evening if all goes according to schedule. Since I am circuitously avoiding Calgary this trip, perhaps things really will go as planned this time.

This entry is all about one song. One man and one song. When I stop for a few seconds and think about it, I don't really need a great deal of time to say all that needs to be said here. The theme for this series of photos and related topics has been the theme of Change, and that still holds true now. As excellent and accomplished a performer as Alan Doyle already was the very first time I laid eyes on him, over the past 6 years I have watched him learn and grow and take risks and spread his wings; he's come into his own by so doing. More and more, he looks to be more of a man who masters Change, rather than a man who is mastered by Change. The King Of Change, as it were.

There are times when one man and one song suffice. All the photos this time around are from When I Am King.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Have I already made the "very nice body" observation? Yes? No worries, it bears repeating. So much for playing by the photographic rules, I suppose.

The  last part of the Warner Theatre show in a few days.

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Now I have to go, Seattle to Edmonton - bypassing Calgary - there and back again, to see the Master Of Change. The spectacle's about to commence.

"These Days I Feel A Change" Part Three - A Sexy Little Drummer Boy & Giving GBS The Gift Of Compassion

Again, I'll put most of the photos below the text for smoother loading/reading. But no way this photo is left waiting. This is from Hold On For Your Life, second set, Warner Theatre, Washington D.C. - and the abundance of beautiful curves seen here add up to make this one of the sexiest photos I've ever taken of a man who makes it hard for photos of him to be anything other than sexy.

Alan Doyle

Hold on for your life, indeed.

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It's a photo worthy of a leisurely linger, downright distractingly lovely. I'm finding it especially hard to move from that photo directly to writing about something I'd really rather not write about. But I've gotten - and decided against posting - enough comments from a few people to make me feel as if I should say something that might make my refusal to approve some of those comments a bit more comprehensible. And this one does go along with the larger theme of Change. I do agree with what others have said - privately, of course - about what a shame it is that nearly everyone is so damn reluctant to talk about much of anything publicly in the World Of Great Big Sea. It's just that I think there needs to be a way to talk about some of those things that isn't unnecessarily unkind, especially when it comes to people I care about.

I agree that talking publicly only about Happy Things isn't being "positive"...it's being dishonest and it's rejecting reality. But honesty without kindness and reality without compassion seem equally lacking. Sounds like time for another attempt at Middle Ground.

Offhand, you wouldn't think that something seemingly so prosaic as an announcement about the closing of a postal box would get some folks in such an uproar. But, then, not much is really all that "offhand" when it comes to many GBS fans, and I can include myself in this one. While I don't share in the feelings of anger and abandonment that some have expressed - "They've left us to the mercies of the assholes who run their site" sums it up well enough - I do think the news that GBS and their management have decided to shut down the St. John's postal box is sad, not the first time I've reacted to a GBS decision that way and I am sure not the last time, either. But there is being made sad by someone, and there is being sad for someone; some situations are one, some the other - this time around, for me it's more a matter of feeling sad for them.

I don't know for sure how long GBS has had that postal box, only that it predates my awareness of them. I remember when the Sea Of No Cares CD - the first CD that came out after I'd found out about them - wa released in early 2002 and I read the liner notes for the first time I thought it was so sweet that there was an Official Address for "Gifts" in those liner notes...P.O. Box 152 Station C. Listing it that way made it sound as if they looked forward to whatever might wind up being given to them; because I've always believed that people who don't know how to receive often are equally inept at giving, this open acceptance of and maybe even a bit of eagerness for gifts on their part impressed me, and I found it very endearing.

I don't know anything more about the reasons why this box is being closed than does almost anyone else, although I can certainly think of a few possible reasons that go beyond wounded charges of their not giving a shit about their fans anymore. Perhaps the postal box has gotten to be so infrequently used that the cost of maintining it is no longer justified; that's a neutral enough reason for closing a postal box. Or, less neutral, perhaps some have been sending materials to that postal box which are considered inappropriate by the recipients. One way or another, I suspect that box has simply become more trouble than it is worth. Again, I find that sad.

Yes, this closing does mean that there is effectively no way for the vast majority of fans to have hope of any contact with Great Big Sea that does not first go through The Official Community Corporation. But to those who have said there is now no recourse against potential abuses by TOCC, I'm going to have to be blunt: I don't believe there was any recourse before this. For better or for worse, GBS has made it clear enough that if you have a problem with TOCC, you had better find a way to work it out on your own or deal with it on your own, one way or another. Do I think this is a wise course to choose? Based on my own personal experiences, no. But it is their course to choose, and given the nuisance factor their official site has been in the past - and admitting my own culpability in said nuisance factor - it not as if this is such a difficult choice to understand. Sad, once again.

There is a part of me, the cynical part, that thinks God only knows what kind of nonsensical shit, maybe even scary shit, has been sent to that postal box. The part of me that is not cynical remembers back a few years ago when it was common for small gifts to be placed on stage by their mics, sometimes silly things and sometimes sweet things, small gifts of appreciation and affection that could still be received in the spirit in which they had been given.

Yes, some gave for the sole purpose of being noticed, true, especially the ones who threw things up on stage mid-show and the ones who left notes with names and phone numbers and sometimes even photos. There were those who demanded gratitude in exchange for giving what had not been asked for in the first place. But there were others who gave quietly, anonymously: a child coming up and putting a candy bar on the stage before the first song, a toy boat winding up next to a set list, a goofy t-shirt folded neatly on the stage next to a mic stand. Gifts given out of generous impulse and sincere affection, as well as out of gratitude for what the intended recipient has given them. That's changed now, for the most part. It still happens every now and then, but not very often, I think because so many of the older fans know they don't really want it and to many of the newer fans they don't come across as ever having wanted it.

I know of some who've sent gifts and cards and letters to that postal box, though I don't know how much that's taken place lately. I just keep coming back to the thought that if the box was shut down because of either lack of use or abundance of misuse...either way, that would be sad. My sympathies tend to go with whoever has been damaged the most in any circumstance; in this case, it's my belief that the most-injured party would be the men of GBS. Perhaps the single best gift to give to GBS these days is the gift of compassion.

That's going to be it for this topic here.

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And now back to a much sweeter subject, the Warner Theatre show. These photos are from the second set up through what turned out to be quite an amazing version of a song I'd long since given up on ever having the power to amaze anymore. You'd think I'd have learned by now that "amazing" is always possible in the hands of some.

Hold On For Your Life.

Alan Doyle

Heading into Shines Right Through Me, one photo before starting the video of the song, a video shot with "tunnel vision" partly because of Buddy's head and partly because of Alan's radiance. 

Alan Doyle

Alan Shines Right Through (video download, 160 MB)

Before Rover, some young ladies came up to the stage and were waving around one of the Naked Accordion Players calendar in which Bob posed as Mr. February. They didn't get much more than a smile from Alan, but Sean was considerably more obliging, especially after he glanced over at Bob and saw the expression on his face. Becoming yet more obliging, Sean held Mr. February up for display long enough for me to get two good shots, long enough too to make Bob downright antsy to get the damn thing autographed and out of there.

Sean McCann (& Mr. February)

Sean McCann (& Mr. February)

Bob "Mr. February" Hallett

Rover began typically enough. It wasn't until after they started that it became clear something special was going to take place on this night. When Alan handed his guitar off to Kris and took hold of the drumsticks, sitting poised on the edge of the drum riser, it sure looked as if maybe he was going to go up and play the drums during the song.

Alan Doyle

Sean McCann

Kris MacFarlane & Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle, ready and waiting

And sure enough, that's exactly what happened, making this the best moment of this excellent show for me.  I had just enough time to switch to video. The light is bad, the camerawork nothing to brag about because I was too darn excited to hold the camera steady or even level, but still, I love this video. Alan on drums is an absolute delight - he plays drums the way I wish all drummers should play, flying hair and twirling drum sticks and delightful facial expressions. If Alan were the drummer, I don't know if I'd ever notice anyone else on stage, which is probably another way of saying that Alan plays drums in the way that would probably piss off most front men. But he'd still be marvellous to watch.

Rover with Drummer Alan Doyle (video download, 150 MB)

I know some people can't download these big video files, so I did an Image Sequence and picked through the video's frames for a few representative samples of just how wonderful this moment was. Once again, these aren't photos, they're image sequence frames, much lower pixel count and lower quality than photos.

Rover, with Drummer Alan Doyle.

How  better to start than with a patented Alan Doyle Drumstick Twirl?

Changing instruments.

Cool shadows from someone's flash photo.

Now there are 2 LIttle Drummer Boys.

And because I can never resist My Favourite Ham, a few frames of Alan acting out Rover lines as Sean sings them, once the Fervent Drummer With The Flying Hair had returned to the front of the stage.

"She opened the door and she let Alan in.".

"They both shook hands and embraced each other."

"Till the morning, they lay as one" - cue knowing gestures.

Finally, a spectacular closing note. It's great to see that his back looks like it might be up to most anything these days.

At least one more Warner Theatre entry after this one for sure, more likely two. I've still got those photos to edit before I go. There's a sizzling WIAK to come, could be a few more candidates for the Most Sexy Photos of Alan Doyle, from my camera at least. That is a rather large collection, though. As I said, he does make it hard to take any other kind of picture of him.

"These Days I Feel A Change" Part Two - Facing Up To Change: GBS Warner Theatre Show & "Wistful" Bob Hallett's Journal

A few people have mentioned it's hard to read text while photos are loading above it, so this time I'm going to put the text - most of it, at least - at the start, with a pile of pictures to be found below that text. I'm hoping this will make for a less bumpy read.

I say "most of it" because I want to begin with the following five pictures - each a crop from a larger photo to be found down below - partly because of the mutability of mood and mode to be found upon the most expressively changeable face I have ever seen. Change has most definitely been on my mind of late: This entry is about last April's Spring Tour-ending show at the Warner Theatre in Washington, D.C., a tour permeated with the fresh, sweet aroma of Change in both music and method, perhaps ephemeral or perhaps lasting; and this entry is also going to be at least a bit ( "at least" because I am still thinking about this one and might add more in the next entry) about Bob's most recent Soundtrack Journal entry, which was itself about Change, albeit somewhat scathingly so.

But truth be told, the biggest reason for starting off with these photos is the simple and straightforward reason that I really like this face, the beauty of of its modes and moods and mutability, the fascination of of its expressive changeability. I am so looking forward to seeing all of those moods and modes and changeable expressions again in Edmonton, and points elsewhere.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

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There's a lot to like about Bob's most recent journal entry, his trenchant wit not the least of it. The passage describing how he will change his demeanour by taking on the caricature identity of "the sad one" - exchanging his current one-dimensional titles of "the quiet one" and "the smart one" for this new appellation - is mordantly amusing, enough so that he might want to use his Sad One description as the basis for a character in a new song that does not suck - to be played in Dm, of course. Such a song about the utter foolishness of seeing complex people as nothing more than cartoon characters might actually penetrate with a few of those who do just that; it would be sure to please those who do not, as well as those who have also had it done to them.

I have to confess I find it a bit surprising that a scant few months before time to record their new CD, they are, according to Bob, "busy writing away like maniacs, trying to outdo one and another in the race to the next album".  I'm no stranger to procrastination, having never met a deadline I did not deeply resent, but given that Great Big Sea hasn't put any original material on a CD - although Alan has been quite prolific with his collaborative songwriting work outside of GBS these past few years -  since early 2004 (songs which presumably were completed for recording in late 2003), this description of a last-minute songwriting scramble is a bit of an eyebrow-raiser. I'd have thought they'd have material ready to go by now. Now re-writing - that would make perfect sense, especially after recording demos and finding out what works and what needs work. But it seems fairly late in the game to be starting from scratch, unless maybe they've found over the years that this approach works best for them. If so, that kind of self-administered pressure must make for some...invigorating...studio sessions.

But perhaps more of an eyebrow-raiser is the fact that Bob is actually writing about these things, giving all and sundry a glimpse into the GBS's recording effort for the second entry in a row. Giving glimpses of himself as well. As Bob says in this entry, one of the overall purposes of his journal has been to  "illuminate the band’s music by exploring my own influences, and trying to draw metaphors and links between the two"; because he has, for the most part, written his pieces with honesty and sincerity - speaking more in terms of tone than particulars - he has to some degree illuminated himself as well, those metaphors and links reflecting back the image of the one who has made them.

To some extent, making an effort to understand Bob Hallett has never been much of a sensible undertaking, not in terms of potential payoff. If you get it wrong, you're apt to be scornfully dismissed as some barking mad fool who mistakes speculation for reality. If you get it right, you run the risk of being viewed as an intrusive, scrutinising nuisance. Not surprising reactions for the kind of fundamentally private person who genuinely does not want to be known by anyone "outside".

My Dad and I had a game we used to play together that I still play "with" him years later called "Sheep & Goats"; the point of the game is to find all the different ways people can be classified as "Those who want X" and "Those who want the opposite of X". One of the first such classifications I discovered was People Who Want The World To Know Who They Are and People Who Want The World To Mind Its Own Bloody Business. Alan is solidly in the first group, and I'd put Sean just as solidly in the second group (with the exception of his songwriting, which is often exquisitely, and sometimes painfully, revealing). Up until fairly recently, I'd have expected Bob to be keeping Sean company in the MYOB group, but lately that seems to be changing, at least to some degree, in his prose at least; time will tell if such a change shows in Bob's own songwriting. I hope it does; the increased openness has done wonders for Bob's prose writing.

I first read Bob's last entry a few days ago and I've been thinking about it off and on while occupied with a pile of the kind of work that keeps the hands busy but leaves the mind free to wander. As he did in the prior post, Bob has the notion of tone on his mind quite a bit - resignation in All The Small Things and hope ("explosion of sweet hope" - nice phrase, though I think I might have gone with "sweet explosion of hope") in No Rain - and external contexts. I've never heard The Brown And The Yellow Ale (did Google the lyrics though...brutal), but I am very familiar with Cock Of The North, which might not be quite as obscure as Bob supposes. My mother used to sing this song - sometimes to tease my father, sometimes purely for love of the song - and for some time I've been thinking that the tale found in the Cock Of The North would make for a moving story plot.

(As an aside, I can think of few things that more clearly demonstrate the reason why I have such utter contempt for how the Great Big Sea official web site is presently being run than does the sorry fact that in Bob's own journal, the title of this beautiful song comes up ludicrously as "**** Of The North" because of the idiotic language filter in effect there. I suppose if someone wanted to quote Jesus Christ's words to St. Peter on the GBS.com site, that quote would have to come out as "Verily I say unto thee, That this night, before the **** crow, thou shalt deny me thrice.” Ridiculous and embarrassing and not worth the expenditure of one more word.)

I haven't heard the version of Cock Of The North to which Bob refers, but the versions I have heard have been hauntingly beautiful.  I don't think I'd call this a "sad" song though - certainly not a song of resignation or despair. More along the lines of a bittersweet tenderness perhaps, the warmth of joy and hope and the ache of sorrow and acceptance joined one with the other. And that thought made me think of one of Bob's own songs: Seagulls. It's always fascinated me that nearly every single GBS fan with whom I've discussed this song is firmly convinced that Seagulls is a Happy Song. After all, the music is bouncy and Alan sings it so sweetly and it's about a Newfoundlander going back home...most of all, it's done by GBS and GBS is all about Being Happy. Case closed.

A long time ago, there was a thread on the OKP in which a very puzzled GBS fan asked what could possibly be the meaning of the lines Now the sky’s a little smaller/And it doesn’t feel like home. It surprised me a bit that a concept as basic as "You can't go back to the exact same home again, because having been away changes you into someone else and you will see that home through different eyes when you return" wouldn't be clear to all (I was very, very new to GBS at the time); what shocked me was the subsequent long thread that talked all around the line and basically came to the conclusion that it really didn't make much sense at all...but, hey, isn't Seagulls a great song? Doesn't it make you happy to hear it? I wonder why they don't do that song live? What other songs do you wish GBS would do live? Do you think if I say I want to hear then do ______, the guys will read what I wrote and do that song all because of me? And so on.

All of this was long before I began to meet Newfoundlanders who had gone home and found themselves beneath that same smaller sky, some of them going away again because of it, others making their peace with what they had lost so that they could hold on to what still remained. Much as does the character in the song. The loss is sad, the holding on is hopeful - the overall effect of Seagulls goes right back to Bob's own description in his Max Webster entry of "that wistful stage, somewhere perched between sadness and hope, the goal on the horizon, and the port left behind".  For all of Bob's talk of sad songs, for all of his description of Helmethead as having originally been about self-loathing, for all of his punker background...it does seem to be the wistful songs that affect him the most deeply. Interesting that his best instrument is one that I think best expresses "that wistful stage" musically, probably what I love the most about the button accordion.

Writing "wistful," songs or prose, has its own set of requirements. The sorrow and the sense of loss - the awareness of that port left behind - don't usually seem to be much of a challenge to most writers. Where some (yep, thinking of Annie Proulx again, Pullet Surprise notwithstanding) stumble is when it comes to writing the hope - the goal on the horizon. Hope doesn't come easily to those who see themselves as gloomy, those whose long experience tends to make them view the world with a cynically jaundiced eye. But it is hope that touches the heart and fires the imagination. Without that hope, it will definitely be a sad song or a sad story, and it will nothing more than that. Find that place perched between the hope and the sadness, and chances are it will then become a song or story that Bob Hallett thinks is a heads-up winner.

Bob had better be careful. He is getting dangerously close to being called The Wistful One. Talk about Change.

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I've put a few photos from the first songs of the Warner Theatre show in preceding entries. This batch is the rest of the first set and the opening song (Ordinary Day) of the second set.

My seat was a few rows back (three, I think) and in front of me to my left was Buddy, whose head is quite visible in this first photo. Buddy was (is) a big fellow, and his head would have been visible in nearly every photo if I hadn't decided to zoom in past it for most of the shots and to time my shots carefully. I got lucky in the second set when the woman next to me on the right decided she wasn't getting noticed by Alan enough and went down front to be more apparent - that meant I could slide over a bit away from Buddy's head.

When I'm Up.

Alan Doyle (& Buddy)

Jack Hinks. GBS does the red light thing way too much, but I have to admit to a fondness for Red Alan. The colour suits him.

Alan Doyle

A moment to share a toast to the end of the Spring Tour, during which Alan's expression is ambivalent and Sean's is not.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Sean McCann

Walk On The Moon, which is always going to bring to mind a rainy night in New Orleans.

Alan Doyle

Gideon Brown.

Kris MacFarlane,Alan Doyle, Sean McCann

Murray Foster

Sean McCann

Kris MacFarlane

Bob Hallett

Alan Doyle

Murray has time for a few sips of wine while Alan and Sean are both being endearing.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Sean McCann

Murray Foster

Captain Kidd. I've said before that what I admire about Kris MacFarlane is the concern he invariably shows for children in the crowd at show. To that, I can add this: He makes Alan smile. That is something I really do like about him.

Alan Doyle & Kris MacFarlane

Alan Doyle

Ordinary Day

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Next song up is Hold On For Your Life, and it's during this song that I took what I believe is one of the sexiest pictures I have ever taken of Alan Doyle - no leather pants and no electric guitar this time to help make him so sexy, either (though I have plenty of those to come too, at least the electric-guitar ones, even if no much-missed leather pants, alas)...this photo is simply and purely all about Alan - and I think I am going to wait till next entry to put that picture up. After all, waiting builds character, or so I've been telling myself every time I've wound up doing just that.

"These Days I Feel A Change"- Harry Potter, Great Big Sea, Fandom & Making (Slow) Progress

For the sake of beauty, starting out with just a few more photos from the Warner Theatre show in Washington, D.C.

Three from Process Man.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

Sean McCann

One from When I'm Up.

Alan Doyle

And two quite different views of that most expressive of faces during Jack Hinks.

Alan Doyle

Alan Doyle

More to come, probably with equal slowness.

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All sorts of CYA disclaimers to start this time.

In regard to Harry Potter: I'm neither a HP fan nor an antifan; I've seen one of the films (third one, I think) while on an AC flight and half of the first one months later in a hotel room somewhere. Haven't read a word of any of the books. Some people I respect greatly love the series (books and/or films), as do some I think are quite stunned, same as with many books and films. While I do admire the inarguable skill with which the HP franchise has been marketed, that same skill tends to cause me to say "No thanks, at least not now, perhaps later" in response...when I can see the strings, puppethood always becomes a less enjoyable activity to me.

In regard to fans (fans in general, not only Great Big Sea fans): It has been my great good fortune to meet some of the finest people I've ever encountered via fandom connections, some of whom have become quite dear to and deeply valued by me. Others might think less of me in turn, but that in and of itself doesn't alter my opinion of their own worth, not any more than I necessarily have a high opinion of someone solely because that person happens to think well of me. Worth is worth, and its recognition isn't dependent on reciprocity or the lack thereof. To balance out that great good fortune, I have also met some of the most wretched individuals I've ever encountered via those same fandom connections. All such determinations being subjective, of course, others are most certainly free to think what they choose of me.

That should be good enough for all except those whose choice is willful misunderstanding, and there's no sense even bothering with them.

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I really had not intended to spend half an evening reading about Harry Potter, or, rather, reading about All Hell Breaking Loose over the page-by-page-photographed copy of the yet-to-be-released The Deathly Hallows, the final book of the HP series that went up online - if legit, a Spoiler Nonpareil for sure. A shitty thing to do, certainly - not unlike the twits who took pleasure in shouting out "Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker's father!" to the people still waiting in line for the next showing of The Empire Strikes Back on its world-premiere night - though not all that surprising given the mega-hype over all the security that had been brought in to prevent just such an action from occurring.

Still, it's hard to believe there would be much impact on overall book sales - one could argue that this leak will likely result in yet more hype that could actually increase those sales. Even with a worst-case scenario, a computer file of 760-odd poorly-photographed book pages probably isn't going to satisfy many readers, so I doubt Rowling and Scholastic/Bloomsbury will suffer anywhere near the kind of loss from this bit of piracy that recording artists have been enduring for years from illegal downloading of their entire career's CD output. So far, I haven't heard anyone say that knowing a few days in advance that ________ dies in The Deathly Hallows will cause them not to purchase the book.

Just a case of another jerk getting off on doing something that a lot of people said couldn't - or shouldn't - be done, right? To most folks, probably. But apparently it's something else to the hardcore Harry Potter fans. Their comments are what I've spent half the night reading on a wide assortment of online sites and blogs, fascinated by the sheer vituperative force and overwrought angst of some of those comments. "Heartbroken," "devastated," "violated," "crushed," "bitter," and "furious" are a bare description, along with angry calls for some rather harsh punishments for the pirate. Suffice to say there are some seriously twisted drawers in Potterdom, so much so as to make the agitated response seem far out of proportion to the actual effect of the offence.

Such is fandom, hardcore fandom at least, for some. Other than the publisher/author, this sound and fury isn't really all that much about book sales, or even morals and legalities; it's about the disappointed expectations of those hardcore fans. Whatever the reason or cause or underlying need, there are those - lots of "those" apparently - who have made a substantial emotional investment in experiencing their fandom in a particular manner, and the fact that some miscreant has interfered with and upset how reality accedes to those plans is something that takes on an importance far beyond the understanding of those who have not made that same substantial emotional investment or set their hearts on their own preferred version of reality. Woe to the fool who gets between hardcore fans and their emotional investments, dangerous territory indeed. Talk about your deathly hallows.

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In a way, I've been around fans all my life, more than many people, I suppose. I grew up in LA, had friends in both the music and film/stage industries, have been going to shows long before I was legal. I've been to more sporting events than I can count as well. I just never paid much attention to fans or thought much about fandom, not much beyond being endlessly amused that my geeky friends who couldn't get a date, let alone get laid, would suddenly become the acquistion targets of an apparently unlimited supply of spectacularly gorgeous women just as soon as those geeks stepped up on a stage and started to play or sing or act. Didn't even matter if they played and sang and acted like shit; just being up on the stage - even on a Nowheresville stage - was enough to draw women who'd never give them a second glance off of that stage.

Then I started seeing the damage that was being done to my geeky friends as they began to believe that the only reason anyone could possibly be interested in them was because of that stage, and it became much less amusing. From that point on, I backed away from fans as much as I could, except sports fans, many of whom were nuts in a much more amiable way, such as painting their bodies in team colours and wearing silly hats. At concerts, I didn't pay attention to fans, even at shows of bands I went to see multiple times (well, beyond the obvious and unavoidable, such as when adjacent fans start setting fire to the barrier or when getting kicked in the head by a crowd-surfer or, worse, when picked up and crowd-surfed non-volitionally - hard not to notice those sorts of things). I went to shows with friends, sometimes alone, and there were a few casual acquaintances who also went to those same shows - hello, how are you was the limit of it. No fan clubs, certainly no online fan groups; the internet was for research, not for associating with all of the inevitably crazy people who spent their time there.

Then I went to see Great Big Sea on a summer night in Seattle in 2001, and it all changed. There was something going on between them and that tightly packed group of people right up front, something complicated and contradictory and powerful - simultaneously moving and unsettling - that I could see in the faces both onstage and offstage. Whatever it was, it caught me, drew me like an inquisitive moth to a very bright light.

I was clueless. Clueless about fans, clueless about online interactions, clueless about Canada, clueless about Newfoundland. I made egregious mistakes in my cluelessness, occasionally got it right by virtue of pure accident, and learned every single lesson the hardest way possible. I am sure that in my foolishness and carelessness, I have done damage to others; I am even more sure that I have been damaged - half-broken, as it were. Half-whole as well, though: equal assurance that a measure of growth has resulted from those learned-the-hardest-way-possible lessons, much more so as a result of the people I've encountered whom I have come to love.

Growth does not come easy for some of us, and sometimes it can feel as if it is eluding us altogether. Sometimes it takes looking back to where we have come from to keep alive the hope for where it is we hope eventually to go. When I look back at where I have come from with fans - from my initial totally stunned approach of trying to think the best of everyone, to the not-very-surprising next step of being continually appalled and outraged by the behaviour of those who should have never been thought well of in the first place, to the perhaps-equally-inevitable stage of being so wary as to refuse to see almost anyone as anything other than "one of them," perhaps not crazy/vicious yet, but sure to become that way given proper provocation - I thank God for the genuinely decent and kind people I knew whose decency and kindness prevented me getting  permanently stuck in that latter point of view; it is a very unrewarding and miserable perspective and not at all who I would ever want to be on a lasting basis.

So now I find myself in the next stage of the Evolution Of Attitudes, and I am eager to leave it behind as well, enough so to wonder if there might be some way to kick-start the process and speed things up a bit because I've got hope - no expectations, mind you, just hope - that the stage after this one might really feel like making progress.

Some time ago I was being chastised for going to so many GBS shows, and one of the comments made was that there was no way I could possibly not be bored by those many shows. As is so often the case, the matter was too complicated to give a completely honest answer in any coherent way, and as I recall, I didn't acquit myself very impressively with the answer I did give. How do you explain what's it's like to be bored at times with individual moments (there are some GBS songs I could quite cheerfully not hear again for at least a decade) and yet still find wonder and fascination in the overall effort? Or that even the shittiest of shows played by the crankiest of players and watched by the most weary and battered of audience members still has its own value and worth? Whatever I did wind up saying in response, I am sure it was inadequate.

But lately I am finding something that does bore me, and the predictability has become a distraction I am quite ready to let go of and move along away from to find out what lies on the other side of responding this way.

We went to a show the other day, a local band. During that show, all I had to do was look around a bit and I knew which people would push down to the front once the music started, which ones would be waving signs or their arms or their tits to get attention - I even picked out the person who would buy the band a round of drinks while they were onstage. I didn't miss with a single one of them. Three songs into the set, I knew who was going to be back hanging at the merch table at the end of the night. Again, didn't miss with one guess. Last up were the two ladies I knew would be outside by the stage door trying to work their way inside. As we left, we walked that way...and there the two of them were, diligently working