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

"After So Long, Nobody's Wrong" - Alan Doyle With Blue Rodeo & Kalem Mahoney's Monday Nights (videos); Revisiting Alan & Jim Cuddy @ The Hockey Hall Of Fame (photos); GBS Sings An Anthem For Bob Gainey (audio)

I'm editing this in with some reluctance. I have a link to an MP3 that includes most of GBS's performance of the anthem(s) last night at Bell Centre, a "by special request" performance in honour of Habs great Bob Gainey, whose #23 was retired into its rightful place. Their voices can be heard about 12 minutes in on the counter, after part of an interview with Bob Gainey and then a short news break - first a bit of the end of the Star-Spangled Banner and then all of a bilingual version of O Canada.

GBS sings the national anthem(s) at Bob Gainey's jersey retirement, Bell Centre, Montreal, Feb. 2008 (mp3 - 12 minutes in on counter)    (3 mb)

It's a great effort on what I'm guessing was a grand night for all of them, grandest all for the two diehard Habs fans among their number. I wish I knew how to edit MP3s; if I did, I would have removed the witless comment made at the very end. But  I don't know how to do that, and I will be damned if I am going to let that witless comment prevent me from sharing the great effort made on the grand night. GBS are clearly who Bob Gainey wanted present at his jersey-retirement ceremony; GBS are the ones Bob Gainey was having a dance with at Montreal's Metropolis. In comparison to how good it must feel to be such an important part of this auspicious occasion, one witless remark really doesn't matter all that much. At the end of the day, he who laughs last is he who's having the most fun at the best party; here's hoping that Alan's sides hurt just a wee bit today from how much he laughed last night. He has such a wonderful laugh when he sets it free, and God knows he's paid his dues for the opportunity to do so.

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Alan Doyle & The Jim Cuddy Band (with friends), November 2004

The One And Only Alan Doyle, November 2004

(More from this performance at the end of this entry.)

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We already had plans for Friday night: Mooseburgers and pints, then the Monday Nights' show at The Dock, maybe a stop by the Duke afterwards on the way home; the Blue Rodeo show at Mile One wasn't part of those original plans. I'd known about the BR show for weeks, but didn't buy tickets when they first went on presale/sale because I wasn't sure where I'd be on February 22nd.  When I realised I would still be in town then, I considered getting BR tickets...but we already had plans and I figured any tickets left by such a late date would likely suck. So I forgot all about the BR show.

Plans can change, wonderful things can happen even to those sitting in the shitty seats, and the path from Point A to Point B can sometimes be circuitous and obscure. It wasn't till I got notice of the public sale date of the Juno Cup tickets that I recalled the BR show; when I hear "Juno Cup," my first thought is always Goalie Alan Doyle, but my second thought tends to be  Team Captain Jim Cuddy. I was (am) very disappointed not to see Alan's name on the initial roster of Juno Cup musician-players, but if there's one thing I have become expert at, it is persistent hope - the Juno Cup press release promises that more players "are sure to be added" in the weeks to come. In the midst of deciding to put my money where my hope is and buy a Juno Cup ticket anyway, I got thinking about the one time I saw Alan do an absolutely wonderful show with the Jim Cuddy Band, at the Hockey Hall Of Fame back in the fall of 2004. There was Jim Cuddy in my mind again, all tangled up with Alan Doyle again.

What the hell, I thought. Who cares if only shitty seats are left? I've never seen a "real" Blue Rodeo show (only an odd sort of BR set that was part of the Watershed Festival chaos back in 2002). I enjoy BR's music, and a few of their songs are way up on my own personal all-time favourites list; chief among these favourite songs is What Am I Doing Here. If I could see them perform that song, Lost Together, 5 Days In May, and maybe Bulletproof, that would be more than worth tinkering with the evening's plans and dealing with the shitty seats. I bought the tickets.

And I got so much more than I had hoped for, something priceless beyond expectation.

I thought it was a good show overall. The opening band, Oshawa's Cuff The Duke, played their own Blue Rodeo-esque music well enough. Too bad they shot themselves in the foot with the crowd by telling a witless joke ("I've been getting pumped up about coming to Newfoundland...I've been kissing fish.") that died a slow and painful death in the chilly silence it engendered. The people I was sitting around way back in those shitty seats were already not particularly involved in the show and that blunder didn't help matters at all. They got somewhat more lively once BR took the stage, but as it so often goes, the physical distance tended to decrease attentiveness; except for when BR played "the hits," there was a lot of chatter and restlessness in my little corner of Mile One, a persistent sluggishness when it came to response and participation.

I'm no fan of the "cheap seats" (metaphorical here, since all tickets somewhat inexplicably cost the same for this show). I like to see the performers when they play, and I prefer to be in the place where the crowd's energy is at its most intense. I'd noticed there was no effective control of floor access at this show and briefly considererd simply walking up to the front of the floor area for a better view and a more particpatory crowd, but decided to stay where I was and watch the crowd around and in front of me instead. In a very odd way, that wound up being an excellent decision.

When a Ferris Wheel light effect was displayed behind the band, I knew it was time for my own personal favourite BR tune. During the song's intro, Greg Keelor was going on about a time when BR was playing at the Fairgrounds in Lake Erie at some dismal gig, complete with high school bands and a Ferris Wheel circling endlessly in the distance. Now I'm getting all excited to hear a song I love, and right about then Greg adds that an odd thing happened during this years-ago Lake Erie gig:  "Alan Doyle walked out on stage and started singing". And with those words, Alan walks out onto the Mile One stage.,

I'm pretty fast when it comes to getting my camera out of my bag, and while I was scrambling, all I could think was "Oh  holy shit, why didn't I go up closer when I had the chance?" But as soon as the thought formed, it was blown away by the sudden blast of excitement I felt everywhere around me. All of those distracted and chattering people who had been so haphazardly paying attention were now sitting bolt upright, screaming and cheering and clapping as loud as they could. For Alan Doyle, up there on stage with Blue Rodeo.

It's one thing when the people up front react with energy and enthusiasm; those are the people who come to shows for that purpose. Those are the people I spend so much of my own time in the midst of.  And there are some shows - not a few among GBS shows - where energy and enthusiasm can be found in the farthest rows of the nosebleed seats. What I was suddenly surrounded with coming from the people all around me back in the shitty seats in Mile One was something altogether different; it was a sudden surge of pride and acknowledgement...it was a blaze of victorious accomplishment shared by virtue of a sense of kinship. It felt like being caught up in that crowd's warm, possessive, demanding, loving embrace of the man I'd like to see the whole world embrace. The force of the sudden response was intense, exhilarating, dizzying and moving to the point of causing throat-ache and unsteady camera hands. If I had ventured away from those shitty seats to move up closer, I would have never understood exactly what was taking place while Alan Doyle was onstage with Blue Rodeo.

The view from those shitty seats, standing in the midst of that embrace, on tiptoe, camera held as high as possible in slightly shaky hands:

What Am I Doing Here, Alan Doyle with Blue Rodeo, Mile One, St. John's, Feb. 2008    (195 MB)

When Alan left the stage, the good show carried on as before, and so did my haphazard seatmates. But the sweet memory lingered  all the way to the end, along with the aching throat and the unsteady hands.

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The rest of the evening managed to stay on its original rails. The mooseburgers were delicious, the Duke's Guinness went down as smoothly as always (accompanied by chocolate with hazlenuts), and the Monday Nights finally took the stage at The Dock sometime after 1 a.m. I really like this band, which is comprised of Kalem Mahoney (formerly of Gearbox and co-writer of GBS's Shines Right Through Me), Elliot Dicks and Mark Neary (both from The Novaks, drums and bass, respectively) and recently-added lead guitarist Brad Power (Power House  Blues Band). They arer a fairly new band - apparently their first CD will be out some time before the end of this year (and I bet Alan would be a great producer for that CD) - and they keep sounding a little cleaner and tighter and more polished each time I see them play. I think highly of Kalem's songwriting skills - he's got a penchant for intelligent and honest lyrics, and an equal penchant for coming up with good hooks and catchy melody lines - and the band already has a solid collection of well-written tunes in their repertoire. Here are links to two videos of the band performing a few of the best from that collection:

The Way We Used To Be, The Monday Nights, The Dock, St. John's Feb. 2008    (170 MB)

Heart Of Stone, The Monday Nights, The Dock, St. John's, Feb. 2008    (280 MB)

And this is a partial clip of the song I think would be a great first-single release for the Monday Nights:

Old Dirt Town (partial), The Monday Nights, The Dock, St. John's, Feb. 2008    (115 MB)

The Monday Niights have more good material - I also think well of Annie and Bright City Lights. The latter song has a pair of lines that qualify it as a perfect example of Newfoundland Music:

I'm not happy until it hurts;
And it's not better until it's worse.

While I don't hold out much hope at all for the Montreal radio broadcast fellow being anything other than stunned if he hears a "pubcrawl drinking song" in an anthem sung with gorgeous a cappella harmonies solely because of who those gorgeous a cappella harmonies are coming from, at least if buddy from Cuff The Duke had invested time pondering this couplet instead of kissing fish, he might have actually been ready to come to Newfoundland. I'm all for making these lines the provinicial motto. And, yes, I did notice Canny Jim Cuddy's comment about being glad to come to "your country".

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It was quite late (or early, depending on how you measure the days) by the time we made it back home, but not yet late enough for sleep to overwhelm memory.  I was still thinking and hoping about the Juno Cup (and am continuing to do so...perhaps an evening of celebration in HabsLand will assist in persuading Alan to come and play  in goal in Calgary), and I was still thinking and smiling about Alan on stage with Blue Rodeo at Mile One.  One thought led to another and then to another, and in not too great a space of time, I was back at the Hockey Hall Of Fame in November of 2004, during the break between the two legs of the Canadian portion of the Something Beautiful Tour, almost two months to the day before the dismemberment of the OKP and the beginning of The Long Break.

During that brief pause in the long and demanding SB Tour schedule, which had been rolling relentlessly and with little respite back and forth across the continent since February of that year, Alan had come to Toronto to join the Jim Cuddy Band and a few other musician friends in playing a show in honour of the 2004 HHOF inductees. When I had last seen Alan a week or so before in Guelph, he had looked exhausted and beleaguered; when I would next see Alan in North Bay in a week or so, he would still look exhausted and beleaguered. But on this November evening in Toronto, on the tiny stage at the HHOF in-between there and there again, Alan's smile was as open and as bright as that of a sweet boy, his laughter was unguarded and free, and his guitar hand was afire.  He looked happy, he looked like he was having fun, he looked wonderful. And he sounded just as good. 

It's still one of the sweetest memories out of all the times I have seen Alan Doyle, and I can still remember the thought that was in my mind as I left the HHOF that evening: Whatever it takes to make him this happy, it needs to happen.

I didn't know much about Jim Cuddy at the time; Blue Rodeo doesn't get a great deal of air time on the West Coast of the States and it was still early on in my Canadian travels. I'd heard some good things said about Jim, along wirh some bad things, and I'd formed no particular opinion of my own yet. But Jim Cuddy did something that night at the HHOF that caused me to decide what I think of him, and it's an opinion that's never wavered since.

At that show, the whole front section of the crowd was solidly packed with Blue Rodeo faithful, with the exception of two American women wedged in up at stage edge over on the  left side. Those two women were there to see Alan Doyle, both of them hoping most of all to see Alan Doyle having his way with the electric guitar. All during the first part of the show, before Alan came out and joined the players on stage, there were cheers and applause showered on the favourite musicians of nearly all of those present, diehard fans doing what diehard fans do best. When Alan finally came out, it was pretty darn clear who had come to see whom and whose beauty was in the eyes of which beholders.

After playing a few tunes on the acoustic - on Jim Cuddy's acoustic, mind you - Alan finally began to wail away on the electric. It didn't take long before it became apparent that Alan, who is always keenly aware of exactly where each and every spotlight is located, was playing his heart out while facing toward the spot from which the most intense approval and affection were being aimed in his direction. Jim Cuddy came up behind Alan and gently turned him to his left a bit, so that he was now facing out toward the main part of the crowd. Alan acquiesced with all due compliance, but as soon as Jim's hands were off his shoulders, Alan began to shift back to his right, little by little, tiny baby step after tiny baby step, slowly but surely turning back toward that single spotlight of wholehearted appreciation and unwavering admiration.

If Alan thought Jim wouldn't notice those tiny little steps and his stubbornly steady directional re-adjustment, he underestimated his friend. Jim watched Alan making his slow swivel rightward and cocked an inquistive eyebrow; when Alan had returned to his original position, still wailing away on the electric, Jim glanced over that way into the crowd and understood in a heartbeat. And then he laughed, one of those big laughs full of warmth and friendly good humour, perceptiion tempered by a kind heart. Jim Cuddy didn't try to re-orient Alan anymore, and he smiled with amused affection every time he looked over and saw Alan still playing directly into his own personal spotlight. Jim Cuddy won my lasting approval that night at the HHOF. 

That was a very good night, a night sweet enough to leave a lasting memory that would bring splace and warmth to some of the very bad nights that followed after. Remembering that night while watching the sun come up yesterday morning, I found myself thinking the exact same thought that was on my mind back then:  Whatever it takes to make him this happy, it needs to happen.

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A small assortment of those sweet and lasting memories from the HHOF show.

Not all nights are useless. Every now and then, the view from the highest point of the Ferris Wheel's incessant arc is something truly beautiful. Even better are those rare and priceless times when that view is something beautifully true.

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"One Thing That's Been Weighing On My Mind" - Honesty In The Midst Of The Otherwise: Alan's Genie Award Nomination And Revealing Cruise Moments

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I'd like to think that some of that honesty made its way into the song and that's what garnered the Genie nod. - Alan Doyle

Newfoundland Herald

The first time I ever heard Alan play his songs, it was their honesty that caught my attention. I could hear something in those songs that was subtly different from the customary perspectives with which I was familiar, and I could also hear that this difference was something in which the songwriter himself genuinely and sincerely believed. It felt honest. It felt real. The man I saw revealed in those songs looked to be someone very special, from some place special. Attention capitulated and heart followed suit.

I have wondered so many times what my reaction would have been if instead of stumbling across Alan Doyle playing his songs on the 2001 CBC Songwriters' Circle show I had instead stumbled across Great Big Sea's live performance at Bumbershoot some six months later, the same Bumbershoot performance I went to in search of that genuine and sincere songwriter with the wonderfully honest songs.  There's an excellent chance that we would have stumbled in GBS's direction even if I had not seen Alan's earlier performance - their a cappella harmonies would have likely caught my attention, and Alan's voice, especially Alan's voice paired with Bob's accordion, would  have been sure to - and it's quite possible that we would have lingered, at least for awhile, as we have often lingered upon discovery of yet another brand new jewel in the wealth of music that can be found at Bumbershoot.

Of this much, I can be reasonably certain, but less so of what might have followed after. It is all speculation and, at the end of the day, speculation is, as Bob has now and again said, a generally unhealthy practice. All that I know for sure is that what has kept attention captivated and heart in hand - as well as on sleeve - has been those moments of honesty, those glimpses of that which is sincere and genuine and real, in the midst of all that is otherwise. Brilliant moments of clarity, moments in which a very special man from an equally special place is revealed.

The first time I saw Alan Doyle perform his Young Triffie song - this at the Evening Of Doyles show in 2006 - I was caught off-guard. As much as I respect Alan's songwriting ability, as highly as I think of his talent and skill, still, this song rose well above that estimation.  Personal experience transformed into universal resonance, an aching awareness of innocence inescapably lost - Young Triffie is the highest achievement that can be made by any artistic endeavour: It is true. The special man, the skilled songwriter, is at his very best when he is at his most genuine and honest.

I hope he and his song win this award. Folllowing in Alan's own path of honesty, I will say that I am afraid he could have a high hurdle to overcome in regard to preconceptions and biases about who he is both as a Newfoundlander and as the front man of Great Big Sea. It's not at all fair, but you won't catch me expressing the opinion that this beautiful life is particularly fair. It would  be neither the first time nor the first circumstance in which Alan's true worth was not acknowledged or in which he was not taken as seriously as he deserved to be. But the song itself insists on being taken seriously; it is one clear and undeniable measure of that worth, one of those brilliant moments of clarity. Young Triffie is an honest reflection of the man who wrote it, a glimpse of that which is true in the midst of that which is otherwise.

Such glimpses and reflections can occur in various and sundry places, at odd moments and in unlikely circumstances. Of all the photos and videos I have gone through from the recent cruise, I have come across two of what look to be such genuine and honest moments, one being the Songwriters' Panel and the other Alan's Keep Your Hands To Yourself at the final-night jam. Much gratitude to the people who preserved these special moments to share with those who could not be present:

Video of Alan Doyle's four Ships And Dip 3 Songwriters' Panel songs 

Video of Alan Doyle's Keep Your Hands To Yourself, final jam, Ships and Dip 3

As best as I can tell (and again, there is that 'unhealthy" element of speculation), there was not much that took place on the cruise that would have had a great deal of point or purpose for me beyond simple curiousity; while I realise that others had a wonderful time, and still more probably would have had an equally wonderful time given the opportunity to be present, I'm not persuaded that I would have felt that same way. If the shows they did had been the first time I had come across GBS - which begs the question in that I seriously doubt I'd have ever been in such a circumstance in the first place, if not for going solely because someone I already genuinely cared about was there - I really do not know what the outcome would have been in terms of what I wound up thinking of them.

But one thing that I know for sure is what my own response would have been to Alan's Songwriters' Panel performance, and the same could be said for his final-jam version of that old Georgia Satellites' tune. I would have thought Alan Doyle was a spectacular performer, an impassioned lead guitarist, and a superlative songwriter; I would have thought that he looked to be a very special man, a man who comes from a very special place. I would have no doubt about how much he was capable of doing and being. The power, intensity, and sincerity of those moments - the honesty of those moments - could not have failed in captivating and persuading.

As much as I don't mind missing the rest of what took place on that boat, I will (honestly) admit that I deeply regret all that prevented me from being able to witness those honest moments firsthand. And (not "but'") I am glad that Alan was able to have those moments.

I would be even more glad to see Alan have a Genie Award moment. Honestly.

"All We'll Remember" (Intermission) - Ode To A Magnificent Distraction

Today I am going to do something that scares the shit out of me. It's not anything particularly dire or life-threatening; it's "only" something that pushes just about every fear button and pulls nearly every intimidation string I possess. It's been looming on my horizon like an impending disaster for a few days now, and I've tried my best to keep from thinking about it, not with the greatest success, especially not late at night when sleep persistently eludes and worries persistently pursue.

To keep myself occupied - to keep myself distracted - I've been working slowly but steadily on the Grey Cup show photos, editing black-and-white versions, getting them all ready to put into an album. The project isn't completed yet and still won't be done before I head out in a few hours to run headlong into that which so thoroughly daunts, but that's not what matters. What matters is how doing this has helped make a really hard time considerably less so.

I'll get back to regular programming some time after 5 pm today, per my present time zone. For now, I thought I'd share some views of the most-welcome distraction who has been so generously and kindly helping me through these past few interminably long nights.

Beauty in part:

 

Beauty in full:

And a few of beauty for fun:

Quite a few photos this time around; there's been quite the need for distraction. There are few more pleasurable distractions than those made up of equal parts of Beauty and Truth; if ever there were a excellent example of Beauty is truth, truth beauty, this would be it.

Once upon a time, Alan Doyle and his song Lucky Me helped a battered heart all the way across Texas on a hard Mother's Day Night, sharing comfort and courage when both were badly needed. He will always have my gratitude for that gift. I think perhaps now I might owe him a double portion of that same gratitude.

And I am never going to be so self-absorbed in my own concerns that I fail to be delighted about the news of a GBS Molson Amphitheatre show this summer, specifically delighted for one very dear, most-welcome. truly beautiful/beautifully true Magnificent Distraction who is going to have himself a much-deserved wonderful time being absolutely spectacular as the Rock Star strutting his stuff up on the high stage in front of the cheering thousands on a hot summer night in the Big Smoke. Oh Yeah, indeed. That thought could make me smile no matter what fears were there for the facing. Which is why I am for sure taking that thought along with me this afternoon.

"All We'll Remember" Part 1.1 - As Good As It Gets: A New Great Big Sea CD, Surviving The Storm & MVPs On The Field And The Stage

Whenever I go a long time between entries, I wind up with a half dozen different things on my mind to write about. Same as it ever was for this entry, but not much doubt about what to lead with: The new Great Big Sea CD.  I'm not usually much of a tease, but this is one time that my own excitement and a desire to share that excitement with others is going to be the exception to that rule. I'm not saying anything more than what I put here, neither publicly nor privately - hence the advance "tease" confession - but I am going to say that I believe the upcoming GBS CD (official release date apparently being late June for some time now) could potentially be their magnum opus - at the very least it sounds as if it's shaping up to be quite the impressive achievement.

It's hard to know for sure, of course; so far I have heard at least a part of just about half the CD's songs, although not the full arrangements of any (if anyone doubts how much difference an arrangement can make, think about the CD/radio version vs. the living-room version of Sea Of No Cares...and then there is what Bob had to say about what happened to Helmethead); whenever I think about the possibilities of those full arrangements, the tantalising phrase tympani and bells once again starts repeating in my mind like an anticipatory mantra. As good as what I have heard sounds, it could wind up being even better.

There is still so much that might (or might not) be on this CD, but even granting that acknowledgement, so far I have such hope based on all that I have heard because so far all that I have heard is real. Musical styles and instrumental/vocal arrangements notwithstanding, the 7 or 8 songs I have heard so far (just bits and pieces of a few) have an honest heart and a genuine soul. The songs I have heard so far are true, each and every one of them, and that is very good; it's as good as it gets. Maybe even as good as Great Big Sea gets. Now that is exciting.

Is it June yet?  Yes, I know waiting sucks. That's a lesson I have learned well, thank you very much. But every once in a great while, what you have waited for winds up being so wonderful that when you finally get it you don't remember the hard part of the waiting. All you remember is how sweet it is when the waiting comes to an end. Which is another way to say that waiting for something wonderful sucks in the good way.

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Him (calling from the boys' post-Super Bowl party):  I need to know where you were when you were on stage with Eli Manning.
Me:  Why in the world are you calling to ask me that?
Him:  I need to know so I can tell the story to the guys.
Me: You're dining out on my Eli Manning story? Now? That happened four years ago.
Him: Four years ago Eli wasn't the Super Bowl MVP. Where were you?
Me:  Oxford, Mississippi...you know, Ole Miss.
Him: What was the name of the club?
Me: No clue. Some ratty little bar. I had to ask for directions because I couldn't find it.The entry was in an alley.
Him (momentarily distracted):  What?  Then where was the back door?
Me:  God only knows. Hey, tell them Alan was on stage too.
Him:  Uh huh, that's sure to impress them way more than Eli Manning.

Things have been a bit rough recently, made rougher no doubt by my own lack of a suitably thick skin. While I appreciate it when kind friends say they think I am "tough," truth is I'm not exactly some bad-ass hard case who's impervious to the buffeting of the present storm. I used to think being buffeted by all those past storms might eventually make for some of that toughness, but I guess all it does is teach you that this storm will eventually blow through, same as all of the storms before it. It's not about becoming tough; it's about holding on, to who and what you are and to who and what you love.

One advantage to holding-on time is it's given me the chance to play a bit with some of my backlogged photos. I know I still need to wrap up the Bowery Ballroom encore pictures, which are done and ready to go, but ever since I watched the Super Bowl the other night, I've had the Grey Cup show on my mind, thinking about championship performances on the field and on the stage, about the amazing quarterback with his unshakeable confidence and also about that beautiful man with the gorgeous beard who commands his stage with all the assurance of the MVP champion he is in his own field of endeavour. And while watching Eli Manning take his own Walk On The Moon during the Super Bowl game on the television while the snow fell and the wind battered the windows in the den, I remembered one of those past storms, how it raged and howled, and then how it finally blew itself out and faded away, leaving behind a very sweet memory in the quiet aftermath: The night I found myself on stage in a ratty little bar in Oxford, Mississippi, with Eli Manning and Alan Doyle.

Alan is right; storms are never as bad as they seem.

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I went into the Grey Cup Festival show expecting a huge, fragmented, unruly, sodden, party-hearty type crowd. And that's exactly what the crowd was like...up until the moment Great Big Sea walked out onto the stage. Instead of allowing the crowd to dictate the tone and pace of their performance, as so often happens with the kind of crowd that was in the MTCC that night, the men on stage persuaded and charmed, insisted and expected the crowd into going where the performers wanted to take them, at the pace the performers set for them. They led, and their crowd followed.The players were in confident command, and it was magnificent. Alan was magnificent, playing his audience like a complex, intricate instrument, taking them to the heights and the depths of the outermost limits of their range with precision, skill, and assurance. There was foolishness and frivolity; there was tenderness and thought. It was a show that rocked hard and it was a show that smiled sweetly. On this night, Great Big Sea was a fun band, and Great Big Sea was a band to take seriously. It was as good as it gets.

I've already put up the pictures from the Grey Cup show up through Sea Of No Cares, the ones in colour that is. I've finally finished the pictures of the closing songs (Helmethead, Consequence Free, Mari Mac, Ordinary Day) and the encores (Excursion, Fortune, and Rant & Roar), and this latter group is in both colour and black and white. Now I'm going back through the earlier Grey Cup photos and seeing how the black-and-white option looks, but that's nowhere near done yet. I think that eventually these Grey Cup photos just might be the first to actually make it into the semi-mythical photo album I keep trying to get done, complete with all of the colour and black-and-white options. As I said, holding-on time does have its advantages.

But for now, I'm going with some of the shots from the end of the Grey Cup show - many of which linger with unabashed delight on the gorgeous man with the sexy beard and the body-image beautiful (especially the Excursion pictures in the next entry...Excursion has become one of my all-time favourite songs and views) - over the next two entries, with a follow-up entry to come soon after for some of the black-and-white favourites from the pictures posted earlier. That, and the story about winding up on stage with the most impressively talented and irresistibly desirable man I have ever encountered. And Eli too, of course.

Helmethead.

Sean nibbles the back of Murray's neck.

Consequence Free

Alan's lovely CF intro piece.

Could not decide between these two versions. Marvellous is marvellous with or without colour.

Mari Mac.

Perfectly positioned, perfectly lighted, perfectly gorgeous.

Sean goes down on his knees for Mari.

Ordinary Day and the encores in the entry directly below.

"All We'll Remember" Part 1.2 - End Of The GBS Grey Cup Festival Show Photos

Continuing the pictures from the Great Big Sea Grey Cup Festival Show at the MTCC.

Ordinary Day.

Two versions of a smile-inducing dimple.

Again, there's no choosing when it's "Yes" both ways.

Alan watches the drama taking place on the going-down-for-the-count floor of the raised VIP area. They really did break the floor.

A series of Excursion pictures; a series of beautiful-body views.

 

Yes, I do indeed love Excursion.

Fortune.

Finally, a Rant & Roar filled with a poignant beauty that lingers in both memory and heart.

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More dreams in black and white and tales of storms that once were and are now no more in a day or so.

"In This Quiet Old Harbour" - A Man (& Songwriter) To Be Proud Of: Alan Doyle Gets A Well-Deserved Genie Award Nomination For 'Young Triffie's Been Made Away With'

From the Genie Awards website:

Achievement In Music - Original Song
Poor Boy's Game
"Breathe"
Byron Wong, Luke Nicholson

Shake Hands With The Devil
"Kaya"
Valanga Khoza, David Hirschfelder

Young Triffie's Been Made Away With
"Young Triffie's Been Made Away With"
Alan Doyle

For those reading here who might be asking, "What in the world are 'Genie Awards' and is this a really big deal for Alan?" - the answers are The Genies are Canada's version of the Academy Awards (Oscars)...and yes, this is a really big deal for Alan. 

What Alan Doyle accomplished writing not only this title song but also co-composing (along with Keith Power) Young Triffie's entire score was a thoroughly impressive achievement in and of itself. To receive a Genie Award Original Song nomination is genuine cause for celebration, an even greater cause for pride.

This is a hauntingly beautiful song. I heard it the first time at the "Evening Of Doyles" gathering in St. John's in 2006, several months before the film itself was released, and made a video of Alan's performance:

Alan performs his 'Young Triffie' title song, Evening Of Doyles, St. John's, 2006    (120 MB)

When introducing his song that night, Alan explained that while he had written it specifically for the film, he had also drawn upon his own experiences, in particular his memories of the impact on himself and his own little town specifically in regard to the murder of Dana Bradley, whose body was found so close to his own "quiet old harbour" when he was a boy. That personal connection gives this song a mournfully pervasive sense of innocence lost, an evocative impact that transcends the specifcs of time and place, and a poignant universality that resonates with all who have been forced by cruel circumstance to acknowledge that "sins such as these" really do happen around here.

Young Triffie is a song which has depth, honesty, sincerity, and maturity; it is a shining example of Alan Doyle's songwriting at its best, a prime example of what he is capable of achieving. It is an accomplishment to be proud of. I'm sure proud of him for all he's accomplished with Young Triffie. How utterly delightful it is that the Academy of Canadian Cinema & Television agrees.

I know some can't download the full video file, so here are a few video frames from that file, followed by an audio version of Young Triffie done by Great Big Sea, in a Media Player file small enough to be accessible to everyone.

This was my favourite moment from that evening: Alan has just finished performing his new song, the crowd (filled with some of the best and brightest members of St. John'sl literary community, as well as a fair share of Doyle Family members) is still applauding enthusiastically - and that sweetly sly little smile on Alan's lips makes it abundantly clear he knows for sure that he has just done very well, knows even more surely that he has created something very special. Which he had...and which he has.

The audio-only version of the song as performed by Great Big Sea, from the Doyle/Power Young Triffie film score:

Young Triffie's Been Made Away With, written by Alan Doyle/performed by Alan Doyle & Great Big Sea, audio only (Windows Media file)   (3 MB)

It's a very good version of the song, though I'm going to be honest and say that I like Alan's solo version most of all; both vocals are achingly perfect, but I do prefer Alan's guitar work in the solo version because I believe that sound best suits the sense of the song. Not surprisingly, since, ultimately, this is not a Great Big Sea song, certainly not in spirit, most likely not in truth. I still believe it's possible - albeit perhaps less than probable - that a song such as this one could one day be both; it's a day I keep on hoping will come, for the sole and simple reason that Alan seems to want it so much, though it would seem to be a good thing for the sakes of all the men of Great Big Sea (and their songwriting skills) as well.

But I'd be a liar if I said I believed today is that day; sometimes, it really does comes down to more than just how you look at it all, at least in the present moment. There's no knowing for sure what the future might hold, but Possible and Probable are purely theoretical, right alongside Hope and Wishful Thinking; when it comes to what is Actual and what is Real...this is an Alan Doyle song. A beautifully written, pride-inspiring, praise-deserving, Genie-award-nominated Alan Doyle song.

And to show the depth and breadth and height of the Consummate Songwriter's versatile skills even more clearly, here's another song Alan wrote for the score of Young Triffie, a song that does such a grand job at capturing the sound the and mood of '40s torch songs that at first I assumed it was a (beautifully sung and gorgeously arranged) cover of some previously-unheard WWII classic, instead of what it actually is - yet another Alan Doyle Original.

My Hero, written by Alan Doyle, performed by Michelle Doyle (Windows audio file)  (3 mb)

I have a CD which has more great samples of the Doyle/Power Young Triffie score, and I'll eventually upload it all and put a permanent link here. But for now, those who'd like to hear the entire soundtrack - and to see a wickedly dark-humoured Mary-Walsh-directed film in so doing - can order the film:

link to order copy of 'Young Triffie's Been Made Away With' from Amazon.Ca

This razor-edged film was roundly panned by those who did not come close to comprehending its mordant humour and who were so completely stunned as to presume that all the fault for this belonged with the film, with none attributable to themselves, most especially those who came expecting a film that would cater to and justify their Happy Newfie Idiot stereotypes. It's not a perfect film - my own opinion is that the slapstick is overdone and some of the casting choices could have been better - but it is a film which has some fascinating things to say about the Newfoundland culture's cornerstone concept of Insides and Outsides, and it has a great deal to recommend it to those who are willing to at least try to understand the workings of Newfoundland humour, as well as those who want to hear the very first of what could be many excellent (and award-winning) film scores composed by Alan Doyle.

As for myself, I'm still hoping for the day I get to see a Russell Crowe-directed, Alan Doyle-scored film; I can't think of any two men about whom it's easier to believe that the sky's the limit, or of any two men I can more easily envision going for a side-by-side amble up on the Moon. But even more than that, which is saying a very great deal, my hope is that Alan always has a place - wherever that place might be and with whomever might be found in that place - where anything and everything he is capable of creating can be performed. In front of the most enthusiastic and appreciative crowds, of course, who keep cheering and applauding at each and every appropriate moment, maybe at a few inappropriate moments too. With awards to follow after. That's how I'd write the story. And if I were writing that story, Alan would be accepting his Genie Award come March 3rd. His first Genie Award, that is. In my story, there would be so much more to come for him.

One last note, a final testimony to artistic versatility: Alan Doyle has now been nominated for a Genie Award (film), a Gemini Award (television) and a number of Juno Awards (music).  That's really something to be proud of, as well as really being someone to be proud of.

Oops, I fibbed...there's one more "last" note to this melody: I just discovered that Air Canada has 3:10 To Yuma as one of it's GISPITV (that's AlanSpeak for "groovy in seat personal interactive television") selections. Cool.