Alan's From The Road

Tour Diary - September 5, 2008 - Home

2008-09-05T16:50:00Z

H-man is napping which affords a moment to reflect on last weekend’s Halifax romp.

Man I love Halifax. If I had never heard of St. John’s, I would have moved to Halifax from almost anywhere else in North America. Perfect size, cool walks, tons of history, great music, dandy pubs and restaurants, piles of worldly people to meet, tons of students and sailors to give the place some youthful energy, and the Lower Deck.

I have fond memories of that place. We played there for a week each month for a couple of years, but in my mind, it was all one big night. For a Celtic band from Newfoundland, the Lower Deck is the biggest, most important gig in your career. You need it to pay the massive expense of getting off the Rock and an anchor gig like the Deck can pay for a lot of cold introductory tours through Atlantic Canada, Quebec and Ontario.

Gigging there can be addictive, which explains why many of the bands that played there with us a dozen years ago, are still there. It’s a great gig. I thought it was great because the pub was so good, but on Friday of last week as I stood on that stage for the first time in over a decade, I realized something, that had previously alluded me. The Lower Deck is indeed a fine pub, but it is a spectacular music venue. Every aspect of the place is set up to enhance the musical, not the pub, experience. It’s all about the bands and music. Can’t think of another pub in the world that is so focused on the entertainment as the Lower Deck. Grand Spot.

I vote we do it every year.

Had a grand time at Keith Urban show as well. Massive crowd showed up early enough to catch our set. I think we went over fairly well in front of many folks who saw us for the first time. Interesting to stand in front of the sea of Corona fake Cowboy hats. (C’mon, if you’re going to wear a Cowboy Hat don’t go for the free one you get with a six pack of Mexican beer, frig sakes).

Keith Urban is one of the best guitar players I’ve ever seen. Johnny Reed rocked the house. Gretchen Wilson can wail. Not sure about the Journey into Heart note for note covers though.

Finished Saturday night as we’ve finished many in that town; in a pub with friends chatting and laughing and carrying on while drinking glasses of beer.

I Love Halifax

Cheers,

Alan

Tour Diary - August 23, 2008 - Flight 692 ( YYZ-YYT)

2008-08-29T17:03:00Z

After a great show at Wolftrap, JP rolled the GB Bus across the border to Toronto in record time and got us to the airport several hours ahead of schedule. Thanks to a kind lady at the Air Canada counter, we actually got on an earlier flight. Home early. Gotta like it.

I'm wearing my "Jesus Saves" t-shirt. Some of you may have seen my wearing it on stage. It shows goalie Jesus making a wicked glove save. Looks like this:

Funny how many heads this t-shirt turns. I swear a lady in the coffee shop wanted to spray me with Holy Water or burn me as a heretic. I had another t-shirt that I thought was even funnier, but I had to stop wearing it in public as several people blessed themselves in front of my as I passed. THat shirt just had two quotations with small footnotes identifying the person responsible for them;

GOD IS DEAD - neitzsche

NIETZSCHE IS DEAD - god

Now, come on, that's funny. Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Agnostic, Atheist, whatever. That's frigging good.

Religious messages have always caught my attention, but a few months back I saw one that nearly made me put the car off the road. Now please bear in mind, I'm not snickering at Scripture here and I'm not taking a poke at any one sect or church, but this must be noted. Right next to Memorial University, a place of higher learning, a large slide in the letters kind of sign in a Church Parking Lot announced...

"It was not Nails that held Jesus to the Cross. It was Love."

My first thought was that I felt the author of the sign might want to talk to Jesus about that. I had a funny feeling that He would say something like, "No, Trust Me, It Was Nails."

The oddest thing was that I was on my way to the hardware store when I saw the sign next to MUN. I was getting some stuff to repair our back fence. It was all I could do to resist walking up to the counter and saying,

"Excuse me, I need some galvanized four inch love, please."

Thanks to everyone for coming to the gigs last week, from Buffalo to Vienna.

Almost home. Only a few days respite before we head to Halifax for the Urban gig.

Rock On.

Cheers,

Alan

Tour Diary - August 20, 2008 - Martha’s Vineyard - Beetlebung Coffee Shop

2008-08-25T15:52:00Z

Enjoying a day off in Martha’s Vineyard after some of the oddest travel and encounters in my professional life. The past 24-48 hours have been boring, thrilling, terrifying and bizarre at times.

Immediately following the Philly Folk Fest, we rode to a near by hotel and grabbed showers and napped on the bus for a few hours before rolling to downtown Philadelphia for the World Café Radio gig. They treated us very kindly there and the whole thing went off without a hitch. It went so well that we finished an hour or so ahead of schedule so Sean and I bolted to the airport for an earlier fight than our scheduled 3:30. We were leaving the bus, you see, to head off to Durham, New Hampshire to film some spots for a PBS program we hope to release in the Fall.

We got to the airport just after Noon. The best of intentions were met head on, however, with a not so joyous lady at the US Air Counter who informed us of two things. One, the earlier flight to Manchester was oversold and we cold not get on it, and two, our 3:30 flight was delayed and would not be departing till 5:00. We had 5 hours to kill in the Airport. Boo.

After much pacing, email checking, departure screen staring, cel phone flicking, coffee drinking, supposing, doubting, scheming, tabloid magazine browsing, scrunched up paper ball and garbage can basketball playing, and self loathing, Sean and I finally got on a plane at 5:15.

We arrived in Manchester, an hour or so late and were picked up by a kind lady who drove us in the woods. Yes in the woods. In about ten minutes we were surrounded by nothing but tall trees, foliage and shadows.

It’s all staring to look very Soprano’s. Jaysus, are we about to get whacked?

Turns out the road to Durham NH winds through miles of farmland and countryside and the driver lady had no malicious intent. Our destination was the New England Center, a conference center and hotel planted deep in amongst huge pine and oak trees near the University of New Hampshire, but feels completely isolated. From the drop off point, hotel guest need to wander down a winding path through the forest to get to the Hotel Lobby. It honestly felt like being in a Robin Hood movie. I kept expecting the Liv Tyler ride past on a white horse, whispering in Elvish or something. Surreal destination after a long day.

We ate in the hotel restaurant, which was quite good, and both retired fairly early as we were knackered. I lay in bed for a while trying to get interested in the Olympics. I watched some Table Tennis and some Trampoline or something. Now, as many of you know, I am a pretty big sports fan. But I cannot seem to give two shites about this year’s Olympics. With the exception of the magic fish dude, Phelps, there seems little to discuss. I’d hoped that my evening in front of the TV would renew my hope, but no sir. Table Tennis and Trampoline just did not do it. I s’pose I’ll have to wait for 2010, when Moose Hunting and 120’s are expected to be demonstration sports.

Myself and Sean met in the lobby at 8:30 AM and were picked up by a kind Gent from New Hampshire Public Television. We went up the street, past the gorgeous campus (very Harry Potter) and were met by a few kind ladies who ushered us into a boardroom to discuss the business of the day. This station has agreed to present parts of the Courage, Patience and Grit DVD to America in the Fall. We were there to film interviews to accompany the broadcast.

After some discussion we were led to a TV Studio where we began taping. Just before the questions began between ourselves and our interviewer, another announcer lady did a little intro, in a pleasant and reserved tone…

“We hope you are enjoying this program. If you’d like to show your appreciation for programming such as this, we have several gifts to say thanks for your pledge for Public Television”

I’m telling you, it was perfect. It instantly sounded like one of those PBS Pledge shows where we all watched Riverdance or whatever for the first time. They’ve got it down, for sure. Very cool.

We were done ahead of schedule and bolted once again for the Airport. This time, Logan Airport was our destination. We dashed to the Cape Air counter and once again tried to get on an earlier flight, only to learn once again that, the earlier flight was oversold, and we were bound to spend another block of time wandering through airport halls.

Mercifully, the time past quickly and we were walking down the hallway to the gate for the plane. Just before we get to the big door at the end, the Cape Air employee, who looked to be right around half my age, turned hard right and headed down the steps where they normally pass down the stroller and stuff. Figuring I was first in line, I followed her down the steps where an even younger dude took over, and led us round the corner of the building to our awaiting “plane”.

Forgive the quotation marks above. I do not mean to suggest that a 9 Seat Cessna 404 is not a real airplane. I just could not think if a better way to convey my sense of surprise to be approaching a commercial airplane that I’d have to step down into. Holy frig. My Mini Van is bigger than this plane. I’m serious.

The young dude led us up to the plane and asked me to enter first as I was to be the co-pilot. Funny, I thought. That must be his standard gag to break the ice when people look nervous. Wrong. He lifts the side panel and points to the seat next to the pilot. “Up you go”, he says.

No joke. Ten seconds later, I’m sitting next to Captain John, and I can feel the wee steering wheel rubbing against my thighs. Sean almost barfed.

Five minutes later, we are 3000 Feet above Boston and I am one dude away from being at the helm. It’s truly unbelievable, in this post 911 World that this scenario happens numerous times a day. I could feel the steering wheel move, matching the Captain’s every turn. I almost got my foot stuck under one of the operating pedals below.

Two things occur to me. One, I could send this plane crashing to the earth if I felt like it. If I had the slightest chaotic or suicidal instinct, I could sucker punch Captain John and take this plane wherever I wanted. Thankfully for everyone involved, I have no such instincts so this course of events was not going to happen. The second thing to occur to me was a little more disturbing. What if Captain John has a brain hemorrhage? A heart attack?A sneezing fit? A freaking nose bleed? I will be left flying this plane. Me. Alan, many moving violations cant parallel park can’t drive a standard transmission should never have got a driver’s license, Doyle. With the possible exception of the infant in the back, I must be the worst candidate for this job.

I figured it would be a white knuckler, but I could not have foreseen this turn of events. Despite the fact that it was a lovely day with no turbulence and the flight afforded a grand view of Cape Cod and Nantucket, I still kissed the ground he moment we stepped from the plane.

We strolled, weak in the knees from the airport to the gig, which was only a few hundred meters, where we were met by an awaiting driver who was to bring us to a radio station for an acoustic performance. We barely had time to tell the lads about our harrowing experience when before we found ourselves traveling across Martha’s Vineyard. All seemed well till the driver made a sharp turn off the highway and started down a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. In ten seconds we were completely out of sight of all civilization.

It’s all staring to look very Soprano’s. Jaysus, are we about to get whacked?

Any way, we arrive at this converted house/ radio station in the middle of the woods and sing a few tunes and are back in the car in no time at all. Shortly there after we got back on the bus next to the gig and announced that we were never getting off it again.

Rock On.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - August 16, 2008 - Highway to Akron

2008-08-18T21:24:00Z

Woke up early. Alone in the back lounge of the bus, rolling steadily somewhere.

Not sure where we are exactly. Through the bus windows I can see a four or five lane Interstate Highway that could be one of a million places in North America. The trees are mostly deciduous trees that are common in most Central and Northeastern parts of this continent. The houses that fill the passing subdivisions all have black tile or metal roofs, which I’ve seen practically everywhere from Scarborough to Seattle. We have past an Arby’s, a steel manufacturing plant an apartment complex and a truck stop as I’ve been typing this sentence. So far nothing I’ve seen in the past twenty minutes gives me any indication as to my current locale.

Amazing how much of North America has become so non descript, so generic. I’m certain this is why I still live in St. John’s…it does not look, sound or smell like anywhere else. It is different, unique. I’m sure this is why I love places like Manhattan, New Orleans, Quebec City, and San Francisco. Nothing better than a place that strives to be its own self.Nothing worse than a place that strives to be otherwise.

The same is true for people, I suppose.

I just saw a sign for Highway 271 North. If I had a map, that would help me out, but there’s not enough wireless power to get Google earth running, so I’m still lost. I could just walk up to the front of the bus ads ask JP, our most excellent driver, where we are, but I’m kind of enjoying this moment of suspension; on the winding road between somewhere and somewhere else, but at the moment, nowhere in particular. Cool.

There’s a Highway 8 North sign and a BuySell Shop on the intersection. We must be close to some town because we have slowed considerably and are stuck in traffic. The license plates of the neighbouring vehicles are almost all from Ohio, which gives me enough evidence to assume that I’m in the right State.

Tonight we play Akron, which is a first for us, I believe. Hoping to improve on last night’s performance, which for me at least was a feat of memory and panic. Funny how some nights the chords and lyrics just appear in you hands and mouth at the right time. Yet, on rare occasions like last night, I have to think about every strum, note and line to make them work. Very grateful for the enthusiastic 5000+ who buoyed us through a few miscues.

Going over a very high over pass with a lovely town below the right side of the bus. Looks like a College town with a big University Building and a church in the middle. And the bus just veered right off the highway. Me thinks we are in Akron. Yep, Akron Recreational Department on the bus ahead.

Suspension complete. We have arrived. Touchdown Akron, Ohio.
Lets make it count.
Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - August 15, 2008 - AC Flight 1197 (YYT-YYZ)

2008-08-15T18:48:00Z

Off we go again. Bit of a crazy week ahead, but I am very glad to have the chance to play a few concerts in a row. Feels like it’s been a while since we did more than a weekend.

What lies ahead looks something like this. We fly to Toronto and jump on the Bus where, hopefully, Kris and Murray and the crew will be waiting for us. We roll to the border and head into Buffalo for tonight’s gig.

Late night tonight we roll to Akron. Have we ever played Akron? Have I ever been to Akron? I know we’ve played Columbus, Cincinnati, Cleveland, and Dayton. We also spent a day off in the parking lot of a Hojo (Howard Johnson Hotel for the un-jaded travelers amongst us) in Medina. I think, but cannot confirm that we stopped for gas in Toledo once as well. That’s six cities I’ve visited in the State of Ohio. I wonder if I’ve been to as many destinations in any other State?

Anyway, late Saturday night we head to the Philly Folk Festival to headline one of the most prestigious Music Events in the US. Big gig. Early Monday morning we nip over to the University in Philly to record a radio show called World Café, I think. We played this show a number of years back and all I can recall is humping our gear up four flights of stairs to this wee closet of a room where the hosts did a great show with few resources. Thankfully, the show has moved into a real ground level studio and the crew will not mutiny when it comes time to load in.

Its gets a little hairy at this point.

Following the morning taping of the show, the whole party has a day off in Philly and then roll to the morning Ferry to Martha’s Vineyard. That is the whole party except me and Sean. We dash to the airport and fly to Manchester, NH and catch a car to Durham, NH. Is there a good pub in Durham, I wonder? We sleep in a Durham Hotel and rise in the AM and go directly to the New Hampshire PBS TV Station to record some interviews for a potential upcoming release. (More about that in days and weeks to come.) Following the interviews, we are to be driven to Boston Airport where we’ll board what I imagine will be a frighteningly small airplane bound for Martha’s Vineyard. Following this inevitable white knuckler of a flight, we are to be swept off to a local radio station to perform a couple of acoustic songs live on the air. Then we are to finally meet up with the lads who’ve had a day and a half of leisure under their belts and will look calm and refreshed having gorged on Cheese Steaks in Philly and Clams in Martha’s Vineyard.

Very happy to say that we stay in MV for the evening and have the next day off. I had the pleasure of sailing into Edgartown with the Fairest One of all and a few friends on a posh, posh, posh yacht a number of years back. Very cool little spot, surrounded by some very rich, rich homeowners.

That evening we board the bus again to head to Dewey Beach. As of typing this diary, I confess that I know nothing about Dewey Beach. I don’t know what State it is in, or if it is North or South of anywhere I’ve ever been. I assume from the name that I’ll be close to the ocean when I play, and I assume that will be the Atlantic Ocean, but can’t be sure.

On Friday we should arrive at Wolftrap in the greater DC area. This could be the nicest venue in America. It is a wooden Amphitheatre that looks beautiful and sound amazing and has the best technical set up I’ve ever seen. We’ve played there with the Cheiftains, Sinead Oconnor, Saw Doctors, Seven Nations, The Young Dubs and Eddie from Ohio. They’ve all been dandy.

Immediately following our opening set at Wolftrap (we are on at 7:30) we bolt for the border and Toronto in attempt to make the morning flight back to the Rock. If all goes well, I could be home by early afternoon.

Big week. They all seem big lately. Cool.

Just crossing through the border check area near the Peace Bridge. A surly looking US Customs Official looks like he intends to board the bus. Best not be looking at the Mac when he arrives.

Looking forward to the week ahead. Hope you are, too.

Cheers,

Alan

Tour Diary - July 17, 2008 - Home

2008-07-17T19:50:00Z

And there it was. Gone.

The three-day blitz in Central Canada came and went like a Tornado. As expected, it was a weekend of notable occurrences and stats. On Thursday, we played for our biggest crowd ever in Quebec. We’ve done a few big things in Montreal, but as headliners we’ve never drawn a bigger Quebec crowd than at La Festival d’Ete. I spoke with some kind folks who were visiting the hidden jewel of North America for the first time and they agreed that Quebec City is fabulous. I would move there tomorrow if I did not love St. John’s so much.

All hands figured Ottawa would be big. But no one could have predicted the record breaker that occurred on Friday night. I’m told that we had just about 30,000 people singing along at the Bluesfest gig. According to all reports, that is the biggest audience in the history of the Festival, and certainly would be the biggest paid audience in GBS history. A sea of bodies was all I could discern each time LampieJayrock swept the field with the spotlights. It was truly an amazing feeling. I normally leave my in-ear headphones jammed in pretty tight, but I confess I pulled them out several times to hear the roar of the crowd. I’m sure this did nothing for my timing or pitch, but I just had to hear what General Taylor sounds like, supported by so many voices. Glorious. Thanks to everyone.

And if Ottawa was not enough to give a God-like Rock Star complex, we dashed overnight to Toronto to the Molson Amphitheatre to a near 10,000 people packed into the Premiere concert venue in the country. There were six video cameras, a separate recording truck, a cool walk on from Hawksley, and a PA and Light rig fit for Bon Jovi. By the time we rolled to the airport at about 4 am, I had myself fully convinced that I was the biggest Rock Star on the planet and nothing could ever slow me down again.

No worries, this delusion quickly passed as I arrived home and checked my long list of domestic duties that had built up over my three or four day absence. Nothing like scooping Molly’s poop to bring you down from a foolishly inflated sense of self.

So I was doing a press thingy for Daffodil Place yesterday with my Aunt Maud. She has lived in the States for a long time but still holds Newfoundland close to her heart. Her and some friends gathered together around $2500 for Daffodil Place. Very cool, thanks Aunt Maud…see you in Altamont.

Anyway, after Aunt Maud and me finish our little press scrum, the CBC gal pulls me aside and asks me on camera I’d like to comment on the Page incident. I’m like, “What? Page incident? ...like paper incident?” She rolled her eyes a bit and looked at me like I must live under a rock or something, as I did not know that the news of the day involved Steven Page getting arrested in NY State for possession of drugs. I told her I could not comment on the matter as I knew nothing of it and merely insisted that Steve is a good guy and I hope this whole thing resolves itself to the betterment of him and all the BNL Camp.

Then she says, “Would you care to comment on the appeal of drugs in the music business?”
Now, you guys know me. Conservative comment is not my forte and my first instinct was to exclaim…

“Are you kidding, drugs are f%^&ing awesome. I’m high as a kite right now. I couldn’t walk on stage without a serious dose of smack. If it weren’t for the dandy hookers, drugs would be the best part .”

You know, some ridiculous answer for a ridiculous question.

But, alas, my Mom and Aunt Maud were about six feet from me and I just did not have the heart to risk shocking the Dolls, so I said something polite and politically correct, and insipid and boring.

I’ll try not to make a habit of it.

Rock On.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - July 8, 2008 - Home

2008-07-08T18:21:00Z

Big weekend ahead. This would be a terrible time for me to get the flu or break my fingers in a bar fight. Three of the biggest gigs in a long time fall within the 72 Hours between Thursday and Saturday. Add to that, a potential recording session and a video shoot and that makes for a pretty full three days, I figure.

On Thursday, we play La Festival D’ete in Quebec City. As I’m sure I’ve mentioned here before, Quebec City could very well be the prettiest town in North America. I love the old walled city and the distinct European vibe. If I had to live somewhere other than St. John’s, Quebec city would be tops on my list of places to hang. This year marks Quebec City’s 400^th Anniversary and I’m grateful to be part of the grand celebrations.

I think the Dubs (Young Dubiner’s from LA) are in town as well. Love to hook up with the lads for a pint. They and us along with Seven Nations had a Summer to end all Summers when we crisscrossed the US on a three band bill called Uprooted. The foolish nights we spent…

We overnight on the bus to Ottawa and perform at the Bluesfest. I understand the venue has moved from the ugly parking lot we played a few years back and is now located down by the river on a lovely patch of grass. Ottawa has always been kind to us. Really looking forward to a big night.

We overnight again to Toronto for a gig at the Premier concert venue in the country, the Molson Amphitheatre. There is no other stage in Canada that so clearly says that you are in the big leagues. The line up for this year’s concert series includes, RUSH, James Taylor, Allison Krause, and Robert Plant, just to name a few. And right in the middle of the same batch of International Talent this weekend is Great Big Sea.

I’m not sure how many Canadian acts can headline the Molson Amphitheatre. Certainly, the Internationally Signed acts like Nickelback, Avril, BNL, The Hip, Simple Plan, Sara M, and a few others could all sell the Amphitheatre. Of the Domestic Canadian Bands, there are probably only a handful of acts that could handle the sheer capacity of this place. Ourselves, Blue Rodeo, Jann Arden, come to mind. All tolled, probably less than twenty Canadian bands could get this gig. I believe this will be our fourth time headlining this venue. Forgive me for patting myself on the back, but that’s f@#$ng cool.

We’ll be attempting to shoot a couple of Live music videos on Saturday as well. Hoping to capture images for Love me Tonight and Here and Now over the course of the weekend and especially at the venue on Saturday. So if you plan to be at the Amphitheatre, please wear your best tops and slacks as you might end up on TV.

Might be recording a thingy in a studio in Toronto as early Saturday morning as well. It would be a contribution to a Compilation CD, but I’ll say more about that somewhere down the road.

Should be a good laugh this weekend as videographer Darcy, who shot the making of the FF CD is along for the ride. Brother Bern is coming to take some snaps. And there should be a large crowd on hand for pints following the T.O. show. Our bus rolls from the venue late night for Pearson Airport and an early morning flight to St. John’s.

All that in one weekend. Jaysus. Amazing, considering I can still put H to bed on Wednesday night and get him up from his nap on Sunday.

Might get over 30 Celsius today in St. John’s. Summertime.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - June 29, 2008 - AC Flight 1198 (Toronto to St. John's)

2008-07-03T16:40:00Z

Well, that was fun.

I'd forgotten what it was like to do a National Press Tour in Canada. Myself and Bob did a smaller run when the Hard and the Easy came out, but the last honest to goodness GBS Press tour was in 2005, I guess, for the Something Beautiful CD. I had forgotten how long the days can become when you're up at 5AM to do morning TV and Radio, followed by a full day of Interviews followed by a night-time performance. I figure I've averaged about 4 hours sleep per day since last Thursday, and I could not be happier. This day and age, fewer and fewer bands get the opportunity to have a major Record Label's Publicity Machine kick into full gear to promote a new project. Music budgets just do not allow for such spending, so I feel honoured that the guys and gals at Warner Music Canada still feel we are worth the effort.

I think the whole week went very well. I hope people enjoyed the pub shows, especially. I confess that I wanted them to be very loose and dare I say, self indulgent. I usually plan the course of the evening and give the lads a set list before sound check in case we need to run over a few unfamiliar songs. But in these pub shows, I wanted people to see us in a very casual environment with little or no bells and whistles; barely a set list to predetermine the path of the evening. For one brief reprieve I wanted to take chances and risks that I would never do in a normal GBS concert setting. I realize a song or two went off the rails a few times musically, as we were open to requests for tunes we had not played in years, and I hope that spontaneity came across as fun for everyone. We'll spend the bulk of the next calendar year playing a slick and well rehearsed show with full PA, Lights and Set Production. I really wanted these pub gigs to be naked and chaotic. I had a blast.

Looking forward to the dates ahead. The Quebec City, Ottawa, Toronto and Gander shows in the next few weeks will serve as the first dates on the Fortunate Tour which should carry on through the Fall and into 09. Jaysus, did I say 09? I'll be friggin' 40 before this tour is over. Could be way worse, I suppose.

Anybody notice that Bob now plays a new instrument. Never fails...one per tour. For those of you who missed the pub tour, Bob plays the harmonica now, as well. Bastard makes me feel lazy.

Really miss my little boy, though. Ten days away feels like a lifetime. I can't believe he'll be two years old in a few days. Wow.

I see the plane is dipping into the fog. Must be close to home.

Happy Summer.

Cheers,

Alan

Tour Diary - June 25, 2008 - Ottawa (on the bus)

2008-06-25T21:33:00Z

Just sitting here on the side of a downtown hotel in the Nation’s Capitol watching people hurry to their jobs and clutching their Starbucks. Funny how some seem to really enjoy the start of the day while others need a while to warm up to it. I, for one, have never really been a morning person. I get up when it is required and can function well on little sleep but I'm also very good at pulling off a 12 hour nap occasionally if time allows. I have never overslept and missed a flight or meeting, and can think of only two or three times when I'm the last guy to show up for an appointment. I'm freakishly early, actually. Must come from my Mom and Dad, I s'pose.

No, I am not a morning person, but I don't mind getting up. As long as it does not require singing before noon. I don't think I'm a big whiner, so please allow me one paragraph to vent. Jaysus, I hate singing in the morning. I suck at it and it blows my pipes for a couple of days to follow. The guys at Canada AM have been so good to us over the years, and giving us three tunes on National TV was a great way to kick off the CD, so I don't want to sound like and ungracious guest, but blowing out a couple of rockers before Noon is just crazy.

Thanks for that.

We've had a few great nights since we hit the road last Friday. PJ O'Brien’s jam gig was grand fun and I can't wait for tonight's event in downtown Ottawa. We've always been well received here, so I hope for more of the same.

The CD seems to be well received as well. Got 3.5 stars in a Toronto Star review and a cool mention on the Playlist of USA Today. Signs are good.

Spent last night at the Gainey Foundation event in Montreal. What an accomplishment for that Family to take the tragic loss of a Mom/Wife and a Daughter/Sister and turn it into a positive force in their lives and the lives of others. I am drawn to those who make the best of things ad make the most of their days. The Gainey Family is on the top of the list.

I am typing on my new Mac, by the way. I think this laptop may be the biggest submission to peer pressure in my adult life. I honestly believe I bought this computer because all the cool people I know have one just like it. Frig sakes, I'm almost 40. I'm someone's Dad. I should be above this kind of nudging, but apparently I am not. I am under the illusion that this music making machine will make me a better write and producer, but who am I kidding? I bought this computer so I could take foolish pics like these:

Many thanks to those of you who've com out so far. Off to talk about myself again.

Rock on.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - June 5, 2008 - Vacation

2008-06-11T16:29:00Z

What do think of the new digs? New Site looks pretty grand to me. I can brag about it of course, as I had almost nothing to do with it, given that I am essentially illiterate in the world of design and the visual arts in general. Check out some new stuff like Tosh (tells no) Tails when you get a chance. For a Basset/Beagle cross he sure does have a purebred take on things.

GBS Cast and Crew have been held up at Club One in St. Johns for the past eight days rehearsing for the new set and tour. We hope to perform 12 or 13 of the tunes from Fortune’s Favour, as well as some of the bonus tracks like Gallows Pole, and a few more fun covers as well. All hands should still get to hear many of the faves from the catalogue, but the new tunes should allow us to switch up the set quite a bit from night to night.

The plan is to do a promo tour in a few weeks around the launch of the CD and to spend most of the summer chasing festivals and special events, many of which are already posted online.

The honest to God Fortune’s Favour Tour per se will actually start in September and take us all over North America well into 2009. We hope to do a two set show again this time as it gets us more stage time to play the zillions of tunes we’d like to perform. Is that cool? I sure prefer it, myself.

You’ll note the word ‘vacation’ listed in the top line of this entry. As I type, I’m on an airplane with the fair one, brother Bern and his lady, as well as a couple of other friends. All hands are headed for a weeks respite before the GBS madness begins. I’ve become attached to my Google Calendar, you see. Like most online calendars, you can assign different colours to different calendars. You know, green for Alan events, blue for Family events, and bright red for GBS. The months remaining in 2008 and the first few of 2009 are a sea of red with not much green and hardly any blue. So we are heading for a week in the blue.

Really looking forward to it.

Only a few days till the new GBS Progeny is born onto the world making anxious parents of us all.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - March 27, 2008 - Home

2008-03-27T15:52:00Z

I’ve managed to have a healthy apathy about the weather for most of my life. With the exception of the occasions when GBS is slated to play outdoor concerts, I barely check the forecast. Most days I could care less if it rains, shines or freezes. I generally go about my day, indoors or out, regardless of the conditions. I’m convinced this Weather Zen is key to being a happy Newfoundlander, especially in the weeks that follow Paddy’s Day and lead to Summer. (Known most commonly as ‘Spring’, a season that skips the Rock annually)

Right now the sideways drifts of the third snowstorm in as many days are whipping up my street. Through the squalls, I cannot see my parked Grey Toyota Sienna, a rather large Mini Van, parked less than ten feet from my office as I type. I can feel my Zen resolve slipping; I can sense my apathy breaking. This winter is bringing me down a wee bit, I confess.

I must cast my gaze backward and forward on days and nights past and future as the present is cold and frozen.

Grand Paddy’s weekend a little while ago. Great fun to have Russell join us in DC for a song or two. Hard to beat his performances. I’ve learned a lot from his presence on stage and his conviction to the moment. I can think of few so eager to give themselves so completely to a performance when the curtain rises, the lights go down, or someone yells, “Action”.

Like many in the GBS camp, he also prides himself on hosting the best parties. The after show sing-along at the Hotel was one for the ages, with The Shantyman shining at his best, and Rachel M leading a lovely version of “Time After Time”. Grand, Grand Night.

The visit to Atlantic City proved to me that places can’t be as bad as people say. I thought the boardwalk was cool. I enjoyed the kooky old games areas. Reminded me of Tom Hanks and “BIG”, one of my favourite films.

A long flight from DC to Edmonton (for a fun gig) and back to Toronto overnight, followed by a snow delay, another snow delay, a detour to Montreal for three hours and a near crash landing 24 hours later in a windy St. John’s was not a fun way to end a fun weekend.

But things are looking up. Way up. Labels, management, and band are gearing up for the launch of the new CD. “Fortunes Favour” will be out on Tuesday June 24th in Canada and the US. Much work going on behind the scenes for touring throughout the Summer and Fall.

We are scheduled have photos taken and do a video for the first single, yet to be determined, in Toronto between April 12th and 15th. And by a wonderful coincidence, that puts us in town for the Oysterband Show on the 13th at Hugh’s Room.

For those of you who don’t know, the Oysterband have been heroes to GBS long before me, Sean and Bob ever got together. They are the quintessential British Folk Rock group that ran down the same corridors as the Pogues and Billy Bragg in England and Europe. They still have a huge following in Britain, Germany and Scandinavia, as their concerts are legendary and their songs are even better.

Ever heard of a song called “When I’m Up I Can’t Get Down”? GBS did pretty well with that track, thanks to the Oyster Gents who wrote and recorded many years before us. When we were compiling material for the ‘Play’ CD, we considered a couple of dozen Oysterband tunes to cover. We picked a good one, but there are literally several albums worth of songs as good or better in the Oyster catalogue.

We are not the only Canadian folkies to love their songwriting. John and Geoffrey from SOTW count the Oysters as early influences. Check out the Bara McNeils cover of “Northern Lights”, or Shanneygannock’s “This Town”.

Their song catalogue is Blue Rodeo Deep. Trust me. Check them out at OysterBand.co.uk

Check out the tour dates and see if there’s a date near you. Like I said, they play Hugh’s Room in Toronto on the 13th, and unless wild horses drag us away, so will the whole GBS Cast.

Spring is in the air. Somewhere.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - February 25, 2008 - Home

2008-03-04T22:43:00Z

I wonder how many times I can write in this forum about my good fortune before you all start to get bored or worse, resentful. With apologies, I have to proceed. This weekend past was one for the books.

I exchanged a few emails back and forth with Jim C from Blue Rodeo over the past few weeks as I heard they were coming to town. I usually ask the band over for fish cakes or ferry a few of them around to a few hidden treasures in the Eastern Avalon area just to be hospitable. I’ve learned a lot from the gents in BR over the years and I like to return the favour when they are in my backyard.

It’s no secret that I’ve been a huge BR fan for a long time. Well before GBS ever struck a chord, I used to stand in the dark corner of Trapper John’s on George Street, just to the left of the two video lotto machines, barely in view and earshot of the few stragglers who would turn their ears to the solo dude with the guitar, to hear me stumble through a cover of ‘Try’, or “Rose Coloured Glasses”.

There’s a real good argument to be made that Jim and Greg Keelor’s partnership has yielded more great songs that any other in Canadian history. There’s a few Guess Who and Rush fans who’d beg to differ, but I’d put my money on the boy’s tunes any day.

I should also note that the boys in the band are the exception to the “Don’t ever meet your Heroes” rule. They’ve been supportive, helpful, generous and kind to us ever since they gave us an opening slot on their Eastern Canadian tour way back in the mid 90’s. They’ve done the same for many others.

I remember Sara MacLachlan opening for Blue Rodeo many moons ago in a hockey rink in Mount Pearl. It could have been Timmins, Ontario or Sherbrooke, Quebec, or Nanaimo, BC. The boys have played them all. There simply cannot be a band more dedicated to bringing music to Rural Canadians than Blue Rodeo. They’ve been doing it for almost a quarter century, with no signs of slowing down.

Mile One Stadium had white paper signs taped to the front windows as I approached Blue Rodeo concert on Friday night. The bold black letters read:

TONIGHTS EVENT IS SOLD OUT

That’s amazing…and very encouraging. I would do queer things to ensure that GBS could sell out a 6000 seat hockey rink on a freezing day in February in our 25th year. Looks like I’m still learning from the boys.

In the middle of their standing ovation earning set, Jim and Greg asked me up to sing one of my favourite BR songs, “What am I doing Here”. I closed my eyes sang as loud as I could, just to try to keep up.

I woke Saturday morning worried that the weather forecast might, for once, be accurate and blowing snow would ground us in St. John’s. Me, Sean and Bob had a plane to catch, you see. A plane to Montreal to sing the National Anthems at the Bell Center at the request of Habs GM, Mr. Bob Gainey, who just happened to having his Jersey retired and raised to the rafters that very evening’s hockey game.

Its no secret that I’ve been a huge Montreal Canadiens fan for a long time. As kids, myself and brother Bern would do almost any chore asked of us on the weekends to earn the right to stay up late enough to watch Hockey Night in Canada on Saturday nights. We never had cable TV, of course, but our Black and White floor model with the rabbit ears made from clothes hangers and wire picked up the signal nicely on most nights. The game always seemed to feature the Habs vs. Toronto or Boston.

I loved every shift of every period of every game. The Montreal Forum was like Narnia to me. It was my Hollywood. A place that I knew existed but I would never get to see. The games were like mass. The ritual of the opening procession, the standing and facing the Queen, the respectful removal of the gent’s hats, the bowed heads twitching in anticipation as the camera panned the stands. And the players, marching armies onto opposing sides, eyes closed to ease the nerves and to summon courage and patience.

The fans, opposing players and officials all pause for the Anthem. The one time when the whole room is united as the games could not begin with out the ceremonial song. Roger Doucette was the regular Anthem singer at the Canadien’s games during my childhood and beyond (I wonder what happened to that guy?). Clad in his black and white tuxedo, he brought a note of formality and class to the evening that I thought the night deserved. What a gig. One song and you get to see every Habs home game from ice level.

So, it was with nervous excitement that we gladly accepted Mr. Gainey’s invitation to song the Star Spangled Banner in English and Oh Canada en Francais.

Here’s a bit of a confession that may surprise some of you. GBS rarely rehearses. I can recall less than a half dozen times in our years of touring that we all gathered to do nothing but practice. We’ve often gathered to write, or to re-arrange traditional songs, but most of our honest to God rehearsal has happened at sound checks or (gasp) right in front of your eyes at gigs.

Last week, leading up to the Anthem gig, we rehearsed three times. With all due respect to all you Americans readers, risking an off the cuff version of the US Anthem in Montreal, did not bother me one bit. But I was shite-baked to shag up the French Oh Canada on the hallowed ice surface of Les Canadiens. So I begged Sean, Bob, and Kris to run over it with me numerous times. (Murray had a gig in T.O. by the way and could not make the last minute anthem call, much to his chagrin)

We sat in the schmancy suite for the Jersey retirement ceremony. We shared canapés and tipped glasses with Habs legends and witnessed a spectacular moment for the Gainey Family who’ve had more than their share of dark days recently.

Just before the heading to the ice surface to sing, we were corralled into an alley behind the players’ benches to wait to be introduced. An official asked us to step aside momentarily. I was not sure why till one of the Habs, Steve Begin, I believe strides in to the hall way from swinging doors and waits for the rest of the team. We were standing right outside the Habs dressing room!

Starting goalie Carey Price was next out and bent in deep concentration psyching himself up to lead the team onto the ice. A few more players strode past when I realized that I might actually get a wink or a nod in with Bonavista, Newfoundland native Michael Ryder, who plays for the Habs, as he marched to the ice. I turned to Mac Daddy to get him to click on his video camera, but he was way ahead of me. He captured this:

Deadly. Full knuckles from Ryder his way to the ice. Cool grin from Mr. Gainey at the end as well. He knows childlike obsession for hockey when he sees it.

I can’t say much about the Anthems. We walked onto the ice, Sean belted out the Star Spangled Banner, and I doted out Oh Canada en Francais, the crowd cheered, and the game was on. Perfect.

To make the night even cooler, a wonderful coincidence found all my siblings in Montreal for the event. Little sis Michelle was in town to fulfill her Green Card formalities as she is singing and living in Ft. Lauderdale these days. Big sis Kim had planned long ago to join her for the weekend. When I got the Anthem gig, brother Bern was not to be left out. So all four of Tom and Jean’s kids sat and cheered at the Montreal game on Saturday night.

Long way from Petty Harbour and the black and white TV.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - January 14, 2008 - AC Flight 654 (Halifax-St John’s)

2008-01-16T18:13:00Z

I’ve written in this forum many times about my affinity for New York, and at the risk of boring you, dear reader, I am compelled to do it again. With my ears still ringing from the chanting of the Faithful at the Bowery, my legs sore from all the walking around Uptown and Little Italy, and my taste buds still perked from a dose of Lombardi’s Pizza and Enchiladas from Mexican Radio, I have to say that the world’s greatest city never disappoints. That said, I would have preferred that my first visit to a Rangers game at Madison Square Gardens might have yielded a different result.

I flew down to NY a day early, you see, to catch the Habs play the Rangers. My buddy Brendan got us seats against the glass for the Saturday night event and it was a dandy experience to see my favourite sport played in one of its most hallowed halls. Too bad the Habs had such a poor showing and got trounced 4-1 by the home team. It was good for the legions of local Rangers fans who make for a most entertaining night at the Rink.

Most of the kind folks who paid to see us at the Bowery would have no idea that the gig was, in part, a showcase event for a conference that was on going in the Big Apple. The delegates of this conference are all buyers for the major theatres and concert venues in North America, and the Sunday night show was a chance for GBS to get in front of a bunch of them at once. Smart planning by manager Louis and US agent Brian, I figure. Hope they were all impressed and hire us to play all over the place.

I’d like to say thanks to everyone who attended the GBXmas gig and help to raise around 50k for Daffodil Place. On behalf of the band and the fundraising committee, I am very grateful for your support for such a worthy cause.

All hands looking forward to the BNL Cruise in a couple of weeks. I’ve never been on a cruise and honestly never thought I’d ever go on one. But the thoughts of a floating music festival where we’ll get the chance to do our own stuff but more importantly, jam with everyone else, tickled my fancy, for sure. I hope to join some of the other band members for foolish 80’s cover in the bar, shanties on the deck, or drinking songs in the pub. According to Ed, from BNL, pretty much anything goes. Yeha.

The plane just tipped its nose ever so slightly which tells me we are about to land. I’ve been running ahead of the bad weather all day and had some serious doubts that I’d get to see the little fella before his bed time for the third night in a row. It’s funny how that kind of simple thing matters so much when you’ve got a small kid. Don’t want to miss a thing.

GBS has a private gig in Whistler next weekend before heading for the Sunny South. Ski Hills and SCUBA gear all in the same week. I love my job.

Rock On.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - December 16, 2007 - Home

2007-12-19T16:21:00Z

Having kissed the grail and dodged a bullet, we four made our way into the late night of the Big Smoke. What followed that evening were your typical happenings of a lads night on a tear. We went directly form the Grey Cup Game to a late ceremony at a near by Holy House to confess our sins of deception to the higher powers on the altar before us. One member of our congregation was so wracked with guilt, that he was almost drawn to a private confessional for an individual forgiveness session, as the general absolution would so clearly not provide him with the necessary relief.

Feeling much better, we left the Holy House, and went to a local library to read up on the classics as well as current events, followed by a relaxing session of Yoga. Then we drifted off into a peaceful sleep at around 11pm.

That’s how I choose to remember it, anyway.

I woke on Monday morning with an odd feeling of slight nausea, headache, and dry mouth. Must have been the hot dogs at the game, I suppose. I made my way to the hotel lobby in search of medicinal caffeine and noticed the some of the Trailer Park Boys waiting near the concierge. After some morning pleasantries, I learned that they were suffering from many of the same symptoms as I. That confirmed it. It MUST have been the hot dogs at the game.

They explained that they were heading back East, and I should have said something like, “Oh too bad. We’re sticking around for a few more nights. We could really use you guys to keep the party going.” However, my malaise afforded me no political correctness and I quickly doted, “Thank F**%”. Hope the boys understand. I’m sure they were eager for a quiet night as well.

There would be no quiet night for me, however, as GBS agreed to sing a few songs for the Gilda’s Club concert, along with Nelly Furtado and Anne Murray. We had a quick sound check at the Elgin Theatre at around 2pm. No big deal as we were to just sing a couple of a cappella tunes.

It was all really low key and casual till the stage lady approached me as we left and asked if I knew any Anne Murray tunes. I told her that I’m from Atlantic Canada, so I know every Anne Murray tune. She then asked if I’d mind joining Anne singing “Could I have this Dance” for the Finale.

Would I mind singing “Could I have this Dance” with Anne Murray, the Queen of Nova Scotia.

“No, Love. I don’t think I’d mind that at all.” I said aloud.

“Holy Shite. I am going to sing live on stage with Anne friggin’ Murray.” I said to myself.

I spent the rest of the afternoon doing what every good musician does on the road in late November; shopping for Christmas presents. A long time ago, I learned there is much credit to offering presents on a St. John’s Christmas morning that had been bought weeks previous on the Mainland.

As requested by the organizers, we made our way to the gig around 6:30 and did, well, nothing. We sat backstage for almost two hours waiting for the show to start. I can never understand the paranoia that some event planners experience when it comes to Talent tardiness. In complete contradiction to the stereotype, I don’t know a single professional entertainer who is regularly late. The number of times GBS has been late for a curtain call through some fault of ours could quite possibly be zero. Why in God’s name do they ask us to be here under lock and key and babysitting eyes for a dog’s age before a two song set. I felt like saying,

“I appreciate your concern, Madam. But, you see, this concert thing; we’ve done this a few times now. Why, just a couple of nights ago, we somehow got all band and crew members on stage on time in a professional manner. And, come to think of it, a few nights before that, we managed the same feat. So, no worries, Doll, when the dude says our name, we’ll be ready to roll.”

But this is a charity event and one should not complain. Can you tell this kind of thing is a bit of a Pet Peeve of mine?

So, we got on stage sang a couple of tunes. They seemed well received. Myself and Bob were escorted to a media scrum and answered some questions about the Charity and the event and some general stuff about what lies ahead for GBS.

Not long after that, it was time for Anne’s performance. I very briefly met Anne Murray at an East Coast Music Awards a number of years ago but I have never seen her perform in person. When I was young, Anne Murray was worshipped in my house and probably every house in Atlantic Canada. She was also a bone fide International Rock Star. She still is.

I nipped out to the wings to watch Anne’s set. Her voice has is perfectly preserved. Sounds as good as ever; high notes and all. Nelly F joined her for Daydream Believer, I think and then it was time for the Finale.

A bunch of us hung out on stage side, waiting for the cue. Anne started with “I’ll always remember…” When the second chorus came around, I did not hesitate for a second. I went right to center stage and joined Nelly and Anne. As the chorus repeated, Anne stepped back and gave me a nod and a gentle pat on the back. I had to return the favour, so I nodded back in that, ‘nicely sung, we’re in this song together kind of way, and oh so respectfully patted he on the back gave her a quick but certain Newfoundland wink.

I had laid my hands on the Grey Cup and Anne Murray in less than 24 hours. Oh Canada.

Following the concert, there was a reception, where I chatted with some folks for the first time, like Jeannie Becker from the Fashion Industry, as well as old friends like Denise Donlon. There were a few glasses of wine and dandy food everywhere but near me.

By midnight, I was spent, and wanted nothing more than a night in the bunk. But there was a problem. Half of our party, myself, Perry, Allan, were to stay in the big city for the Habs/Leafs game the next day and were eager to rest up for the big night. Sean’s group were heading back home the next day and were eager to exorcize any demons they had left before heading back to their lives and responsibility. They were not about to let us wimp out.

So, Allan H bailed for his apartment and Perry and I had to get back to the hotel and in the room before the rowdy party noticed us missing. We bolted well ahead of them and had a nice buffer to get us in bed. So great was our lead that I got cocky and convinced Perry to nip into the 24hour Tim Horton’s for a sandwich. He protested, convinced that this would get us caught, and worse again, the presence of the pansy late night snack would double our punishment.

He was right.

Just as we left Tim’s, Sean’s entire party took to frolicking in the main entrance of the Hotel. We were shagged. What to do? We noticed the large revolving door and made a break for it. We stood just outside the hotel and gestured to the partiers inside. As they made their way towards us in one side of the revolving door coming out, we dove into the opposite side heading in.

To a chorus of “Hey, where do you think you’re goings?” Perry and I ran through the lobby and up the steps to our floor. We knew that by the time the revolving doors came around again, we could be out of sight. We snuck from one hallway to another clutching our Tim’s Ham and Cheeses to our chests. Two grown men like school boys on the pip. Sad, but necessary and effective, maneuvering. We made to the safety of our Suite, locked the door, and jammed a chair up against the door.

We were asleep in 20 minutes.

Fresh as Daisy’s we, woke and gathered at the Air Canada Center for the Leafs and Habs morning skates. A good man arranged for a few of us to attend this generally closed practice and warm up. It was so cool to see the players just having fun on the ice. Before any of the drills and set plays began, they just did their own thing. Some shot pucks at targets, some skated backwards and forwards or in circles, while others just stretched. All of them seemed to skate to a quiet part of the ice and take a moment or two to enjoy the emptiness of the massive rink. Perhaps they were reminding themselves that their decades of hard work had led then to this reward; playing their favourite game on the biggest hockey stage in the world. Very cool to watch.

Another good man arranged for our entire party, to have rink side seats for the game with access to the Presidents Club. Myself, Perry, the Hawco’s and Barry C, all donned suits and dined on Roast Beef before the game in a private club right behind the players bench. It was hockey luxury.

The game was a nail biter with Captain Mats Sundin scoring the tying goal for the home team with only seconds to go. Overtime settled nothing, so the game went into a Shootout. The Habs score the winner in three or four shots. What a night.

We all straggled back to the hotel and listened to some rough mixes of the new GBS CD. The lads seemed to genuinely like the tunes, which is always encouraging. There are a few numbers on this recording that are unlike anything we’ve ever done. I was very curious to see how they would react. I wonder do our friends and family know that we use them as test groups?

After a few wines and a few hours sleep, myself and Perry made our way to the airport for the flight to St. John’s. I have no memory of this flight. It was one of the greatest lads weekends out in my history. Great cast and spectacular itinerary.

When we got off the plane in St. John’s a kind lady drove us home in a van loaded with rum and other spirits. It felt strangely appropriate.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - December 1, 2007 - Home

2007-12-07T18:51:00Z

Well, how was that for a serious weekend?

Months ago I saw the Saturday Grey Cup gig, and the Monday Gilda event penciled in on the calendar. I also knew that the Grey Cup game would be on the Sunday and a quick glance at the NHL Schedule, showed that the Leafs would host my Habs on the Tuesday. Four days of sports and laughs spells “Boys Weekend Out” in my Kingdom every time.

I quickly sent notes to a few foot soldiers to join me on this mission. All of them, and more besides, answered the call swiftly and certainly. My buddy Perry C, Greg and Allan H, and Barry C were amongst the Principals in the four day excursion, but others came and went as well. Sean also knows a good time when he sees it and he recruited Greg B and Jeremy P to anchor his away squad. Throw in the regular GBS Cast and Crew, a few cameos by Jim Cuddy, Pat Boyle, and the Trailer Park Boys and you’ve got a serious brew going.

It started with an afternoon flight to Toronto. We arrived at around 3pm, and got downtown, checked into the hotel, and back in the lobby just in time for our 4:30 sound check. The venue for the Grey Cup gig was just as I imagined. It was a long cavernous concrete hallway decorated with more product placement and ads than the Yellow Pages. By the time our set was to start, around 10pm, the capacity crowd was well lubed and raring to go. I can’t imagine the acoustics were anything to write home about, but all hands seemed to enjoy themselves.

Some even enjoyed it a little too much. There was a huge raised and railed VIP area to my right which held at least five hundred people. Sounds great, but there must have been three times that many on the plywood platform by mid concert. By the end of our set, I noticed security guards begging people to move off. By the encore, I saw more security and even kitchen staff in full chef-ish garb trying to get people off the deck. The reason, it turns out, was that the merriment of the concert goers far out lasted the structural integrity of the VIP area.

Yes, that’s right. We broke the floor.

At the BareNaked Ladies afternoon show the following day, I noted that the whole area was roped off and not accessible to the general public. I recall breaking or re-breaking the floor at the West End Cultural Center in Winnipeg some years past. I believe the original credit for the compromise of that well used dance floor went to the Skydiggers and the enthusiastic crowd from the Peg.

In any case, the Saturday show went well and we did the Elvis dash, right off stage into an awaiting SUV and were dropped at a dandy pub right next to our hotel. We instructed all our guests and friends to meet us there for post show shenanigans. After a welcomed Guinness, someone announced that there was a band playing in a separate room and sheepishly asked if we might, later in the evening, consider sitting in for a tune.
“Why later?!” I said, and grabbed an unsuspecting Jim Cuddy by the arm and dragged him onto the wee stage. He looked slightly panicked and very reasonably questioned what I had in mind for us to play. I, of course had not thought it out that far yet, but was not about to admit that to Jim and the awaiting crowd.

Over the next forty minutes or so, myself and Jim and the band onstage, along with Sean, and a few others stammered our way through a few tunes including what I remember as a dandy version of Jim’s “Falling Down Blue”. Great fun, anyway.

The night went on at the pub and I had great chats with some family and friends and a very interesting dude from Sante Fe or somewhere who had a very unusually high knowledge of the geography and smuggling history of Rural Newfoundland. I was just about to ask him how he knew all this stuff when I got distracted and, poof, he was gone deep into the night. It was kind of like that Strider (I think? You know, the dude who turns out to be Aragon) dude in the first Lord of the Rings film.

Don’t have a clear recollection of how the evening finished, but I know it was in a dark hotel room and involved a Vascular Surgeon, a Shanty man, an Anesthesiologist and some Trailer Park Boys. Top that cast.

The early arrival of my Thespian friend Allan Hawco (the pouty dude in the Clearest Indication Video) bolstered the Grey Cup game day festivities. Breakfast at the Irish Embassy was capped off with Irish Coffees, which set the tone for the marathon that followed.

We made our way to the BNL Tailgate party and spent most of the afternoon listening to the lads, but watching the scantily clad gals dancing very suggestively above and behind a long Molson’s Bar. I got all moral about it at first, asking the boys why any company would stoop so low as to have sex kittens pole dancing behind the tables where they vend their wares. How base and dumb do they think we, the consumers, are? I went on at length about this naïve marketing ploy for quite some time. It was not until my pockets were almost empty from buying rounds of warm Molson in plastic cups that I clued in to the obvious;

This shite really works. I gave in then and enjoyed the rest of the performance. BNL sounded great and never looked so good.

Then we met up with Sean and Bob and all the collected parties and were escorted to the Skydome for the game. We were given seats in a box, thanks to Brad Watters, the key organizer of the whole Toronto event. We ate hotdogs, and hooted and hollered appropriately as we really did not care who won. I was glad for the Green Victory mostly because Brett Butt from Corner Gas sat with us and he is a die-hard Riders supporter. Well done Saskatchewan.

Oh Yeah. Really liked Lenny Kravitz at halftime, but could not really hear much in the box. I wonder how it sounded on TV.

Immediately following the game, myself, my buddy Perry, along with the Hawco brothers Allan, mentioned above, and Greg, who played percussion on the first GBS CD, headed for whatever Exit was closest to our box. We found ourselves being rounded into an elevator that went down so we figured we were headed in the right direction. A gent in a blazer with an official looking patch asked if we were with the media. I innocently looked around and saw lots of reporter-ish looking fellas and answered,

“Yes, Sir, we appear to be with the Media.”

Not a lie. Technically speaking.

We followed the sports journalists around the lower levels of the Stadium till we came to a large opening, where the Zamboni (amazing, US spell check does not recognize zamboni) would enter if this were a hockey rink, and realized that we were actually at field level! Keeping a confident pace near but not among the reporters, we walked past dozens of Security Personnel and what must have been an entire Police force, right up to another large opening where the Roughriders were exiting the field.

At this Gate, a wrangler hoarded all the reporters behind a median to await their turn to hit the dressing rooms and press conferences. He shouted,

“All media behind the barricade!”

Now that we had piggybacked off them long enough walked right past the works of them, and burned them off like they were wearing crowns of thorns and carrying crosses and our name cards all read Judas. As we brazenly strode beyond their kennel, I believe I heard a *** crow in the not too distant November air.

How far could we go? The boys looked a bit nervous, and I confess that I was about to shite myself, thinking that at any moment were would all be tazered and spend the rest of the weekend on the T.O. Lockup. But I must have been doing a grand job hiding my trepidation because there we stood right in the middle of the walkway where the victorious players were exiting and celebrating. No barrier, no security for fifty steps, just me and the lads standing there like the Commissioner in a casually dressed receiving line.

Doing my best, “Of course I’m supposed to be here” routine, I continued telling a story to Perry and the Hawcos as if this were completely a reasonable and expected locale for four dudes from St Kevin’s High school in the Goulds to be hanging out immediately following the Grey Cup. I even interrupted my tale a few times to take high fives from the players as they left the field.

In their defense, many of them shook my hand at first as I stuck it out in my self assumed official capacity, but then they did a double take, no doubt thinking,

“Who the F**& are those guys and how the F&&^ did they get down here?”

But they were so caught up in the celebration that they just carried on into their dressing room.

Now I’m thinking, this has been quite the coo. But how to top it off without being dragged kicking and screaming into an awaiting Paddy wagon?

The grail. The Grey Cup came clear into my peripheral sight. I tried my best to stay cool and continue with my now bloated tale to continue our façade. Then as the trophy of the day came within a couple of steps I stop the story, and turn to some three hundred pound sweaty hulk, open my arms like he’s my best friend from kindergarten, smile as proud a smile as I can, and sing:

“We did it!!!”

“Yeah!!” he replies, I’m sure trying not to be rude and break the spirit of the moment, by acknowledging to himself, me, and everyone around, what in retrospect must have been completely obvious. He has no clue who I am or why this hairy dude with his chums is standing right exactly in the way.

As any kind kindergarten friend would do, he takes two steps in our direction and hands me the Grey Cup. Yes that’s right. He hands me the Grey Cup.

I did not take it out right but laid my hands on it, and went “woo hoo” or something, totally falling out of my ‘supposed to be here character’, and turned to the lads to get a good look at their expressions of disbelief. We had just watched the Grey Cup, and strolled down to field level and celebrated with the Trophy in hand. No passes, no credentials, nothing. And now for the first time, our faces showed our delight and surprise with what we were getting away with.

The jig was up, and I knew it. Time to bolt. I took my hands off the Cup and walked directly back the way we had come, bee-lining it for a bright red exit sign. As we hasted, two or three security guys with headsets looked our way and seemed to be motioning towards us. I quickened my step and the lads followed pace. A few more feet to the door and we’re clear.

“Hold it!!” is shouted in our direction.

I turn to see an approaching Police Officer. We’re shagged.

The heavily armed man walked right up to us and said in a most hospitable tone:

“Use the next exit; it goes right to Front Street. You’ll avoid all the crowd.

Nodding, took ten steps to the left, pushed the metal bar on the door and escaped into the Toronto night.

More about the rest of the weekend later.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - November 19, 2007 - Home

2007-11-20T17:18:00Z

My Laptop is fixed!!!

I’ve missed my wee laptop. I used to think it a bit of a vice of mine. Sort of my own oversized Crackberry, but since I’ve been without it for a number of weeks, I’ve come to realize that I use this machine for more than just Internet and Emails. This has become my travel companion and my entertainment center. It serves as my mobile office and recording studio. It is my travel journal. I don’t write without it.

Anyway, thanks to the Vancouver-ish people who gave us two grand nights at the Casinos in Coquitlam and Richmond, BC. I’m not a real dice roller or card shark, so I don’t spend much time in gaming houses, but I really enjoyed the Theatres in those facilities. Great sound and lights, cool vibe. Everything you want in a gig.

We did the Uber-Rock and Roll move following the show in Richmond. Immediately following the last notes of a cappella “Old Brown’s Daughter”, we dashed from the stage into an awaiting Limo and were whisked through security at Vancouver Airport where we ran onto the red-eye flight to Toronto. I’m certain the crowd were still cheering when the wheels left the ground. Very Rock and Roll.

Then we got stuck in Toronto as our much delayed connecting flight flew about a thousand feet from my house in St. John’s, only to turn around and fly back to Toronto as the winds in Newfoundland were too high to touch down. Not very Rock and Roll.

Looking forward to a big night in Toronto on Saturday as there should be close to 8,000 revelers at the Grey Cup gig. Spirit of the West is also on the bill, as are Lowest of the Low. For those of you who don’t know about the Low, Ron Hawkins and his tribe were one of the most critically acclaimed indie bands on the college circuit about 15 years ago. They must be reforming for this gig as I’ve not heard a peep from them in over a decade. I saw them once at a multi-band bill and they blew everyone (including GBS) completely off the stage. Their CD “Shakespeare My Butt” is one of the Top Ten Canadian Recordings of all time.

I’ve mentioned this play before, but for those of you in the Winnipeg area, Tempting Providence, a play about a missionary nurse on the pioneering west coast of Newfoundland, plays in Winnipeg at the Prairie Theatre Exchange for the next few weeks. It is about rural Newfoundland but it could be about India or South Africa or Australia, or any where in the colonies the British Empire sent doctors and nurses.

It is a clever four person show that uses only a table and cloth for a set and it will introduce you to a Lady that you’ll never forget. It may very well be the best play I’ve ever seen."

Check it out. You won’t be disappointed.

The first few eager snowflakes have dusted my front step. The icing on the Cake; Winter is here.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - September 19, 2007 - Europe Part III

2007-09-26T14:43:00Z

So we had the night to kill in Exeter. Sunday nights in small English Country towns are not renowned for their endless options for entertainment. I figured we had a fine cast in Murray, Kris, Sean, and Myself, so I was not one bit concerned.

GBS played Exeter in the early 90’s on a Government funded tour called “Tip of the Iceberg”, featuring four bands from Newfoundland showcasing the Province’s talent. I remember one particular little square near the Cathedral that was lined with lovely Tudor(??? I have no clue about architecture) buildings that look hundreds of years old. I wanted to show Kris this corner as he had never really seen the English countryside and this was a postcard opportunity. Of course I had no idea where to look for this corner and could not even call it or the Cathedral by name to ask directions. Might be in store for a wandering wild goose chase in search of a distant memory. To make a long story short, we walked out of the hotel, turned right, saw the Cathedral, walked up one street in that direction and found ourselves in the exact spot I remembered from over a decade ago. Tourist mission accomplished in less than ten minutes. Off to the pub, guilt free.

We made our way to a place called the Angel, as it was recommended by the hotel staff. Over the course of the next few hours, we four discussed several ways to cure world hunger, dominate the music business for decades to come, and get the attractive waitress to leave her home, family, and life in general to move in with Murray. Normal dandy chat at the pub before giving it up for the night.

We made a pit stop in the hotel lobby bar and had a grand chat with a young Polish gent who shared with us his zeal for Catholicism and his talents as a Margarita maker. Good as a concert. Sean almost quit the band and became a Jesuit.

I’d call that a good effort at making the most of a Sunday night in Exeter.

We jumped the train for London in the AM and made it to the Hotel on Russell Square in downtown London. I’d never been to this section of the city which is dominated by the massive British Museum. I have always jokingly begrudged the British Museum as it proudly holds and displays treasures from each of the cultures once conquered the British Empire. In the heart of downtown London, in this museum, you can blow the dust off rare and precious icons from Pakistan, India, Australia, and even Newfoundland. These artifacts are so far from their true homes that you would want to run through the halls screaming, “GIVE IT BACK!!!”

The gig at the Borderline was hot and sweaty. Been a while since we had a steamy pub gig, so I was very glad to rock hard in the London night.

The following day was a free day and a few of us, including my brother Bernie, who joined us over night, went to see ‘Spamalot’ in the West End. Can’t say that I loved the show. Cool nostalgia for Python fans, but I hang around with singers, actors and comedians. They re-enact Python regularly, and less predictably than this show. Of course it won a zillion Tony Awards and is loved in many cities where it runs, so what do I know?

We blasted off to Hamburg and drove to the Tonder Festival. What can I say about this festival that I have not said before? It very well might be the best Folk Festival on Earth. We had a great time with Runrig, Danu, and loved watching Liam Clancy in the Old Mill. We dined exclusively on Ristet Hotdogs and drank way to much Gammeldansk. Look them up.

Whew. Grand run through a few European countries.

Home for a rest.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - September 1, 2007 - Europe Part II (from home)

2007-09-06T17:51:00Z

We woke early and jumped aboard the train in Edinburgh Station that would carry us to Inverness. I love traveling on trains. It seems so civilized and romantic. We steadily wove our way through the Scottish Coast and took a sharp left turn after an hour or so and headed directly up to the Highlands. Rolling green hills all around.

Could be worser.

Did I ever tell you about that saying? “Could be worser”. An old Skipper in Petty Harbour used to say that all the time. I always thought it sounded cooler and made more sense than the proper grammar of “could be worse”. It has an innocence and naivety that I find charming and honest. Could be worser.

We arrived in Inverness and the sky opened up. The threatening rain of the forecast had kept its promise and dumped on the highlands just in time for the start of Runrig’s ‘Beat the Drum” Festival. The Festival was actually a few kilometers outside of Inverness in the town of Drumnadrochit on the shores of Loch Ness. The drive down the winding lake side, or loch side highway was slow, slow, as the concert goers made their way down the only access to the big gig.

The concert was a much bigger affair than I imagined. With a Sold Out crowd of almost 20,000, the venue featured a massive stage, audio and light rig, video production, the whole lot. We’ve toured with Runrig before and it seems they are still growing in popularity, despite being well into their fourth decade as a band. That is quite an accomplishment and the lads deserve congratulations.

We played our set and managed to get through it with no massive mistakes. I think we were fairly well received. With a long travel day ahead and rain coming down in buckets, we packed the gear and made our way back to Inverness.

A drive, a flight, and a drive got us to the Beautiful Days Festival near Exeter, England. Ever see those photos from Glastonbury? You know, the ones with people covered in mud, looking kind of Druidish? That was the vibe at the Beautiful Days Festival. British festival fans are completely unhindered by mud. Not only do they happily stroll through it, oblivious to the dirt and muck that they would normally avoid, but they also look very cool doing so. Dare I say, the gals actually manage to make it look sexy! Yes British gals in Festival Wellies are sexy. There, I said it. Sexy Wellies. Maybe it’s my Petty Harbour wharf days coming back.

Only saw one other act at the Festival. Comedian Bill Bailey is a huge draw in the UK and I can see why. His parody songs are both hilarious and poignant. More evidence that the funny guys are the ones with the truest words. He is a great player as well and he wowed the packed tent of a few thousand fans.

We played our set to a hearty crowd of close to a thousand people and we sold a bunch of discs to newly converted fans.

We bolted after the show to Exeter, where Sean, Murray, Kris and I stayed for the evening. We thought about hitting the hay early after a long day on the road. We dropped our bags in the room and went directly to the pub instead.

More later.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - August 30, 2007 - Europe Part I (from home)

2007-08-31T16:25:00Z

In an effort to travel light through the “one bag limit” Heathrow, and the many planes, train, and automobiles that carried us around Europe on the recent GBS Tour, I left my computer at home. No laptop on the road, so I’m just getting to compiling a few thoughts and remembrances of our romp that took us to Halifax, Edinburgh, Inverness, Exeter, Bath, London, Hamburg, Tonder, and finally home in St John’s…all in ten days.

Air Canada has cancelled many or all of its direct flights to Heathrow from St. John’s, so many of us had to travel to Halifax around supper time to get the transatlantic flight late Thursday evening. We arrived in Heathrow shortly after dawn, cleared UK Customs, and dashed across the airport, got on several escalators, staircases, moving sidewalks, then cleared customs again, for some reason, and secondary security and jumped aboard two different buses and a sub terminal train, to arrive at our connecting flight to Scotland which I’m certain was only three gates away from where we started. I love England. I really do. I also have a fondness for London. Heathrow, however, could very well be Hell on Earth. I’m serious. Fire and Brimstone could not possibly be as hellish and claustrophobic as this self confessed dangerously out of date and over run facility. You guys know I hate airports, and Heathrow is the worst of the lot.

Enough whining.

The crew guys and Bob headed for Inverness while Sean, Murray, Kris and I made it to Edinburgh by lunch time on Friday and the sun began to shine the moment we stepped onto the sidewalk of the hotel which affords a perfect view of the Famous Royal Mile and Edinburgh Castle. I nipped over the Edinburgh from Glasgow a few years back when GBS was playing the Celtic Connections Festival. The train ride between the two cities is very short and I got the chance for a quick glance at what I now consider to be the loveliest city in the UK. The Fringe Festival was in full swing when we arrived. The Fringe is one of the greatest collections of extroverts you’ll ever witness. Actors, dancers, musicians, comedians, painters, sculptors, and buskers from all nations descend on Edinburgh to flaunt their wares in this Orgy of the Arts. I have a soft spot for any one willing to stand in front of me or a group that I’m in, and do something exclusively for my or our entertainment. I think the world is a better place because of this Company of Fools, and I am a card carrying member to prove it.

We saw some street music and performances, all of which were worth a listen and a look. We sat in a street side café and watched folks come and go. Tom Hanks walked by at one point. I assume he must be working in the area or just an Edinburgh lover like us. The whole city was consumed by the festival. Every ten steps we bumped into someone handing out pamphlets or cards for their show or performance. Many of them were in full costume. A very sexy Little Red Riding Hood invited me to the park at 7 pm while the ever present Peruvian pan flute players played “Bridge Over Troubled Waters”.

In the evening we saw a few standup comedians. This has to be the hardest gig in show business. I watched some fairly gifted gal from London die a thousand deaths during her ill-received performance in the back of one of the zillion venues offering Fringe acts. Like I said, she was OK, and OK can work just fine for a lot of gigs, say you’re an Irish pub singer, or the rhythm guitar player in a rock cover band, the drummer in Beatle mania, the shaker player in Santana, the fourth sax player in a big band, …you get the picture. There are many performance gigs where OK will get the job done and you can learn to hide behind your friends talents to mask your own shortcomings. Trust me; I’ve done it for years. Stand up comics may as well be naked on stage. No help from anywhere in sight and nothing short of outbursts of uncontrollable laughter is considered a success. In music terms, it would be like requiring a standing ovation three times a song. Almost impossible to succeed. Can’t believe anyone would do it for a living.

We ate some of the best Italian food I’ve ever tasted at the Patio, and went to a headline comedy show featuring ex-Saturday Night Live cast member, Rich Hall. His first half was one of the funniest, most bold performances I’ve ever seen. Isn’t it funny how comics are often the only ones unafraid to call it like it is. Their funniest material is the stuff that is closest to the God honest Truth. Interesting.

I wanted to continue late into the night, but the fact that I’d not been asleep in nearly forty hours coupled with my desire to not suck at the Runrig gig sent me to an early bed.

Edinburgh is spectacular.

More later.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - August 11, 2007 - In the park, Northampton, MA

2007-08-14T19:22:00Z

I've really enjoyed the shows this weekend. I admit that I've been pleasantly surprised with the attendance. It's always tough selling concert tickets in the summer. It's tough to compete with the backyard BBQ’s and trips to the cottage. Yet, all the shows have been full, or very close to it. We may have broken some city bi-law in Freeport last night as the crowd far exceeded the 4500 limit. Many thanks to you all for coming out.

Bob, Murray and I had a great walkabout in Hyannis on Cape Cod a few days back. Strolled the length of the beach and saw the perimeter of some of the nicest homes and properties I’ve ever seen. I will need to write three or four #1 Hits to afford one of these pads. For now they are a fair shot outside this folksinger’s price range. Can’t complain, though. I get to see the same ocean back home more times in one day than some get in a lifetime.

It appears as though Murray, after years of searching, has found his way on Cape Cod.

Currently sitting under the Pines here near Northampton. If you believe the Ode to Newfoundland, the Eastern Avalon was once adorned by ‘Pine Clad Hills’ such as these. Bob says this is true and trees have long since been cut down to use as ship masts in the 19th Century flourishing St. John’s. He also says there are few dozen of the massive trees still hidden around the city, in a backyard here, a driveway there. You need to know where to look but there are massive pines like the ones surrounding me now, hiding in the Oldest City in North America.

Gotta love having Bob on the bus.

Who needs Google?

Off to stroll amongst the trees. Lovely day.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - August 8, 2007 - AC Flight 8900, Halifax-LaGuardia

2007-08-09T20:40:00Z

I just cleared US Customs at the new schmanchy Halifax Airport Facility. Sweet. Looks like Halifax Airport is bound to become a new Eastern Seaboard hub, making it a hell of a lot easier for us to access New York, Boston, DC, Philly etc.

I had a grand time with some folks from my past in Petty Harbour a few days back. Come Home Year Celebrations started a couple of weeks ago in my home town and in between GBS Tours I managed to get home for one grand evening. On Saturday Night, at a planned concert on the ball field, I sang a few songs on my own off the top of the show. I sang a few popular GBS tunes, and a few that I’ve written for other projects as well. Most of them were well received, I think, as the crowd grew steadily for the main attraction to follow.

The Headliner for the evening was the re-formed Ringdelles. At different era’s on the Southern Shore, this cover band played everything from 50’s Rock and Roll, to Classic Country and Western, to Traditional Newfoundland and Irish Songs and Tunes, to the Beatles. There was hardly a club, Legion Hall, Church Basement, or ball field, from Petty Harbour to Trepassey that did not host this group at one point or another over its 30 year run. Some remember the band as the Sandelle’s or Medicine Jar, or High Tide, but to me it was and is simply Uncle Ronnie’s Band.

My Uncles Ron and Leonard along with a revolving cast of players were well a established club and dance band by the time I was born. When I was ten or eleven years old I remember begging Mom and Dad to let me stay up to hear them rehearsing across the dirt road in my Nan’s house. When they played at the Crystal Palace, a long since demolished Night Club I the Goulds, Dad would park our car up to the side window and let me stand on the bonnet to watch them sound check for the evenings gig. There was lots of music around my house along with a piano, an accordion and a guitar, but Uncle Ronnie’s band had electric instruments, drums, amplifiers, a PA system and lights. They had real gigs that had advance ticket sales and played in clubs where people paid cover charge. On Sundays around mass time and in the early days of the week I would hear adults talk about the time they had at Dance in Bay Bulls or at the Hayloft Lounge where the band had played. On Thursdays and Fridays on the wharf in the Summertime the fisherman would talk about how they could not wait to get in off the water on Saturday to get to a wedding up the shore that had booked the band for the dance.

In my pre, and early teen years, Uncle Ronnie’s band was the coolest thing in my world. By the time I was fifteen, I had basically memorized the entire bands repertoire on as many instruments as I could. All designed to be ready when the call came. Shortly after my fifteenth birth day, one of the guitar players in the band, could not make the Sunday Matinee after the band had played a rollicking Friday and Saturday night at the San Juan in Cape Broyle, a few towns down the shore from Petty Harbour. Uncle Ron called Dad, I suppose, and got the OK to ask me to sit in on rhythm guitar for the 2-6pm afternoon set. When Dad past me the phone I nearly fainted with excitement, but tried to sound seasoned and cool about the fill in gig. I tried to sound as if I were doing Uncle Ron and the band a favour by getting them out this jam. Anything for a fellow professional musician. I suspect that I was not very convincing and my true desperation and enthusiasm very plain for all to see as I jumped at the chance to play the gig.

We drove down the shore in a beat up station wagon. In the band van with the band. Oh yeah. The club was a beaten up nightclub halfway up a long hill on the way out of Cape Broyle. The club would have been packed for the two previous nights, but the Sunday Matinees were long out of style. Everybody knew it except the club owner, I guess. We played for about an hour to six people and one German Sheppard. I may as well have been at Madison Square Gardens. I played every song like it was my last. After the gig, Uncle Ron gave me $50, same as the other guys got for the gig. That was the first time I had ever been paid to play music. I’ll never forget it.

Last Saturday night I got to play with Uncle Ronnie’s band for the first time in many years. It was a very cool reminder of my apprenticeship as entertainer where the focus is on keeping people on the dance floor.

Here’s a photo from the gig.

Uncle Ron is sitting, flanked from left by Dave Stack, Uncle Leonard Doyle, Al Hearn, and Myself.

Congrats to all the organizing committee of the Petty Harbour Come Home Year. A grand time was had by all.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - July 30, 2007 - AC Flight 540, Seattle-Toronto

2007-08-01T15:11:00Z

Really enjoyed the weekend on the road, I must say. It was a treat to get out and perform again after one of the longest concert droughts in GBS History. Banjo God and Folk Fusion King, Bela Fleck joined us on stage at the Calgary Folk Fest on Saturday night. He’s been a musical hero of mine for a long time. From my first listen to New Grass Revival over a decade ago right up to the present Flecktones collaborations, I’ve enjoyed how Bela Fleck has paved the road from folk to just about every other musical genre on the planet. Quite a thrill to have him pick his way through Charlie Horse.

Proving once and for all that I love tour bus, I opted out of a flight from Calgary to Seattle and took the 13hour overnight bus ride with the crew. We rolled into the Zoo shortly after 1pm. You may be surprised to learn that we’ve played gigs at several zoos over the years. It has always struck me as odd fit. I really believe that a strong majority of animals dislike loud unfamiliar sounds and noises such as those you may regularly hear at a concert with four thousand fans.

We were treated very well by the zoo staff and I hope we did not disturb the bears and wallaroos (wallaby/kangaroo cross, I assume) who’s homes border the concert site.

Long flight home today. North America is pretty big and Newfoundland is nowhere near the bulk of it. I know this tour has only been a few days long, but I’m eager to get home and see if the wee fella has learned any new tricks. In my short stint as Dad, I’ve come to learn that kids carry on without you when you’re absent. They don’t wait for your return to learn and grow and turn in to little people. There’s much to miss.

A few days at home to catch up before another short run on the East Coast of the US.

Happy Summer.

Cheers,
Alan