It’s been a while since the last post, so apologies, Dear Reader.   When we left off a few weeks back, I was bound for home with hopes of getting to work with a couple of brothers from the greater Limerick area of Ireland.  Owen and Moley O’Sullivan make up Size 2 Shoes, an alt everything folkish act and I hope to collaborate with them in part or in whole on their next recording.  The boys were in Newfoundland for the NL Folk Festival and we managed to sneak in a few days recording during their visit.  A couple of those days found us at my cabin in Rural Newfoundland where we sang to the birds and moose.  Through the jigs and the reels, we managed to write and record three tunes and I learned a lot for the gents as they have a really unique way of stacking vocal harmonies and including beat boxing and rap in folk music.  I hope we get a chance to finish the CD, but the sched is not on our side as I am bound for the road with GBS for the Fall and Winter, and they are bound to feature in a film by an up and coming director named Steven Spielberg.

Here’s a snippet.

I wish the boys well and hope we can re-gather soon enough to finish what we’ve started.

Since then, GBS has played two weekends.  The first of which started with one of the most taxing travel schedules I’ve seen on the itinerary in a long, long time.  I awoke in Stn John’s shortly after 3:30 AM to catch a flight to Toronto at 5:20.  From there we dashed across the airport to catch a flight to Minneapolis.  An even quicker dash across that airport led us to another connection to Duluth.  We then had to drive for a few hours to get to the gig in Bayfield, Wisconsin.  Jaysus.

Thankfully, Bayfield is beautiful.  It is a lovely Summer Home looking kind of logging town on a far-reaching corner of Lake Superior.  The folks there treated us very kindly before, during, and after the gig.  The shenanigans went late in to the evening, especially considering the entire GBS Cast and Crew had been up for well over 24 hours by the time the real foolishness began.  In case anyone is wondering, Lake Superior is quite warm at 4am.

We all rolled to St. Paul to partake in the Irish Festival and were delighted to be reacquainted with the Young Dubs and a few other musical friends.  Hope to be asked back to the Festival again.  An interesting note: We were actually booked to play this Festival in the Summer of 2009, but I had to pull the plug on it to meet the commitments to film Robin Hood.  This year, Summer 2010, we roll into the gig’s hotel, and as I walk into my room, I hear my own voice on the TV saying, “We’re common archer’s, Robin”, a line from Allan A’Dayle in the very same film.  Turns out that the film had just been added to the in Room Movie line up.  How’s that for bookending a year. 

The following weekend we had grad times at the Molson Amphitheatre, with a massive crowd.  Hard not to feel like a Rock Star headlining the Amphitheatre.  But for a couple of days previous, I was moonlighting in T.O. with Little John, himself.  It was great to meet up with Kevin Durand and his Dad, Serge.  Again with the Robin Hood connection, Kevin and I were in town to do some advance press for the DVD/Blue Ray release of the film.  We had a blast and on the second night I sang the National Anthem at an NFL Pre Season game at the Skydome.  Here’s me and Kev on the field.

Yes, he is really that big.  NO gear and he still made some of the players look small.
 
That evening we rolled to Vermont and had a gig near Woodstock on a ski hill called Suicide Six, I believe.  I spent most of that day chasing Sean around the historic town and up in the hills.  We ran over 11 kilometers, which for me is a big run, but for Sean these days is a brisk warm up.  I nearly had to be helicopter-ed down off the hill. It was lovely to hear Natalie McMaster play her fiddle that evening.  Have not seen Nat that often in the past five years or so as our paths have not crossed as much as they once did on the circuit.  She is a Master at her craft.  And could very well be the best Fiddler Cape Breton has ever produced.  For those of you who don’t know the context of the previous statement, that is like saying you are the best bottle of wine ever produced in Italy.

We finally got to headline Wolftrap in the greater Washington, DC area.  We’ve played there eight or nine times now and finally got to do our own show.  Amazing to have a weekend with the Amphitheatre in Toronto and Wolftrap in the same weekend as they may be Canada’s and America’s best outdoor convert venues.  Quite a privilege.

Home now, and have been for a week or so.  Putting in as much family time as the last breaths of Summer 2010 will allow.  The sched ahead see’s me away a ton this Fall, so I want to roll with the Prince as much as possible before the Safe Tour starts in September. 

Two happenings I can report that you may find worthy of note. 

Myself and Sean and a few others helped our friends Jason and Leslie re-open a pub in downtown St. John’s.  They just purchase Nautical Nellies on Water Street.  This place is one of the three or four pubs that served as the first GBS circuit in the Spring and Summer of 1993.  I think it is the second pub Great Big Sea ever played, following a Paddy’s Day weekend at the Rose and Thistle.  Back then, we would typically book from Thursday to Sunday in either the Rose ,or Nellies, or the Garret or 7 George.  Along with the occasional solo or duo gig, or a happy hour here or there, that’s how the months looked. Pushing our little PA as West as far as Nellies, East as far as the Garrett.  About 300 Meters I suppose. 

But these gigs were our classrooms.  Four sets a night. Booming noise from the street and every other bar. Patrons and Punters with dozens of excellent options battling for their attention.  This is where we learned how to do the most important job a pub band has; keep the bar full and keep them drinking.  Pub owners loved us.  We eventually shattered every beer sales record in pubs in St John’s Halifax, Montreal, Toronto, Ottawa, Calgary, Edmonton, and Vancouver, just to name a few.  By the Summer of 1994, we had it down.  Get them in early, keep the Sociables coming, and comment of the excellent quality of a particular beer or drink…whatever the pub owner wanted us to push.  And most importantly, keep the tunes up-tempo and engaging. One person leaving in the middle of a set is a failure.  Get all two or three hundred people who may come and go over the course of the evening to buy one more drink than they might have otherwise.  Pub owners won’t mind paying you top dollar of you can demonstrate you are capable of this. 

Perhaps I’ve rambled.  Sorry, but I’ve had some time waiting for the Ferry to come. What Ferry, you may ask.  Well I am about to fulfill a longtime desire and finally get to the home town of Gideon Brown.  Here comes the boat.  Back in a bit.

Made it.  Finally got to visit Fogo Island.  See here

In the distance is Joe Batt’s Arm.  In the foreground is Alan Doyle’s Arm.  Very cool place.

We had a grand time in Tilting and Fogo, and JBA (as the crowd from Tilting call it).  A grand Lady named Zita Cobb is heading up a movement to restore many of the heritage buildings in these towns and also is also developing state of the art Artist Studios and Residences to connect Fogo with the rest of the world through visual arts and writing and songs and stories.  And Fogo has lots of all of that.

Of course I had to make a bit of a pilgrimage to Brimstone Head.  I’ve been speaking about this place onstage for years and I know many folks are convinced I make some of this stuff up.  But Ladies and Gentleman, I kid you not.  I have been to one of the corners of the earth…according to the Flat Earth Society.

This as good a photo I could find on the net, but trust me, no photo could explain how sinister and looming this mountain of rock appears in person.  It dwarfs the sizeable fishing village of Fogo below and at dusk with the right rain and clouds still visible below the moon, the Head looks almost impossible.  Like a scene from a Tim Burton Film.  Just waiting for a sorcerer’s castle to be CGI’d on top.  Very cool. 

And I made it up and back safely.  Dodging fate once again.

It’s not easy to get to Fogo Island.  Thankfully.  If Newfoundland is the best kept secret in North America, then Fogo Island is the best kept secret in Newfoundland.  But not for long.  It’s just too good to keep under wraps.

I’m back at home now enjoying the last few days of Family time before the Safe Tour starts hard and fast in a week.   Looking forward to getting out there, I confess.  I’m sure I’ve mentioned it here before, so forgive me for the repetition, but I love September.  I love the Fall. I think it stems back to my high school years.  Though I dearly adored my young life in my little fishing town of Petty Harbour, I was ready for a lot more than the North and Southside Hills had to offer.  High School saw us in the Goulds, a much bigger farming town with a main road, a supermarket, video arcade,sports fields,  bars with bands, girls in my class who were neither close or distant relatives of mine.  September meant getting back to all that. And I loved it.
The fact that Newfoundland is gorgeous in the Fall does not hurt either.

I wonder though if it is not something else that makes September so special for me?  I wonder is it actually the start of a new year?  January 1st, is really a day when very little begins.  With the exception of a few sporting events, very little happens on that day…is that true?  I can think of nothing I’ve ever begun or started a fresh on January 1st.  But September is truly the time of new beginnings and perhaps has always been my New Years Day.  Maybe that’s why I rarely, if ever rued the fading of Summer. Too fascinated to see what comes next, I suppose. I don’t know.

In any case, I am fascinated to get the bus rolling again.  Sorry this entry has been been a bit long in the tooth, but I’ve been absent here for a few weeks and had a lot to say.  More to come when Me and Bobber, and Magoo, and Murrman, and KMAC, and Archie, and JROC, and leBriton, and Young Johnny ,and Glenbo hop on the GB Bus with JP at the helm.  What a Cast.
Rock on.

Cheers,
Alan