I wonder how many tours GBS has done?  By ‘tour’, I mean a block of gigs where we left home and drove from city to city in a car, van, or bus and did a bunch of our own gigs in pubs, clubs, or theatres.   
I do not mean weekend summer festival appearances or one-off corporate gigs.  I am curious as this most recent tour finished in West Hampton Beach NY, as to how many times myself and Sean and Bob, and a varied cast of others have enjoyed, or just survived a band tour.

It’s a cool vibe on the bus after the last gig of a tour.  It is usually not a party type atmosphere as we normally have a long drive to an airport and everyone has organizing and packing to do.  Often, there’s a handshake or two, especially for the crew, who work so hard to make the shows look and sound as good as possible.  Their day is much more laborious than ours, and if we want some time off after a three week run, they need it.

If we call a tour a run of five consecutive dates or more, I wonder how many we have done.  I recall our first real Newfoundland tour when we played Stephenville, Corner Brook, Grand Falls, Gander, Clarenville, Marystown and Carbonear, I believe, before returning home to St. John’s.  We had no crew, so it was just the four of us, carrying our instruments, and a PA System in two compact hatchbacks; Sean’s Ford Festival, and Darrell’s Honda Civic, I think.  (The wipers broke in one of those cars, and remained dysfunctional for the whole run; no worries, it does not rain that much in Newfoundland.) There were festivals before that and a weekend trip to Corner Brook or Gander, but that was our first real GBS tour and that would have been in the fall of 1993, if memory serves correctly. (And it often does not)

It is reasonable to estimate that we have done three to five Canadian Tour Legs for each of the CD’s.  It is also reasonable to assume the same for the US for the last seven CD’s.  Likewise, we toured Germany and Denmark on four or five CD’s. You add on a few opening tours for Blue Rodeo in Canada, a couple with the Oysterband in Europe, and Runrig in the UK, and the number of complete tours really adds up.

Is it possible that we’ve done just below or above 200 tours?  Jaysus.  Have I gone on tour, not gigs mind you, not weekends here and there or fly-in corporate dates or summer festivals, on tour over 200 times?  That is a staggering number to me.  In my teenage years as a member of Uncle Ronnie’s band doing dances and weddings up and down the Southern Shore, or as a University student playing solo gigs in the pubs of St. John’s, I literally fantasized about touring in a real band.  A real band with records and fans who would buy tickets in advance to your shows.  A real band with a crew of dudes who would set the gear up and tune your guitars for the next song on the set list.  Jaysus, a real band with a set list!

And now I sit not long after my 40th Birthday, and I literally can’t count how many tours I’ve done.  How lucky am I?  How many people get to do what they really want once in their lives?  Very few, I imagine.  Even fewer are those who get to do it time and time again.

Brilliant.

Cheers to Johnny, the newest dude on the GBS Bus.  He was the audio technician on the most recent tour, and I hope for many more to come.  He is quite a talent despite being only 9 or 10 years old, compared to the rest of us.

Special thanks to the gent in Tarrytown with the endless supply of Margaritas.

Curses on the gent in Tarrytown with the endless supply of Margaritas.

We debuted a few new tunes and hope to have a few more up and ready by the time we reconvene in San Diego in a few weeks.

Many thanks to the kind folks who made this recent run grand fun on stage and off.   As I said, I’m not sure how many tours have passed. Let’s just hope there’s at least as many more to come.

The plane is slowing down and descending.  We’ll soon enjoy the charms of our sweethearts and our friends.

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving.

Cheers,
Alan

What a grand weekend.  

Played Clayton NY, on Friday night in a small and dandy room pack with 500 hundred folks eager to kick off the last weekend of Summer 2009.  Funny to type a sentence that indicates that the summer is over as for me it is really just beginning.   Playing festivals, outdoor concerts and frolicking in the long warm evenings of July and August, has been such a part of my life and my commitments elsewhere meant I missed most of the frolicking season this year.  So, I was very grateful for the concert in Clayton, as it gave us a grand chance to sing with some lovely people, but even more grateful to the revelers who joined us in this years only real opportunity to dance under the Summer Moon.  A grand night for sure. I’d love to go back to Clayton.

We rolled over night to Buffalo and spent the bulk of the day around downtown.  A few of us made use of the well-equipped hotel gym and sweated away some of the sins of the night before.  The gig went amazingly well as over 5000 people paid to see the show.  I think that beats our US paid attendance record from a week or so previous at the show at Wolftrap.  Incredible attendance really, for a band without a current release, with no National US record label, publicity, radio, or video play of any kind.  Just to put it into perspective, a pop band played the same venue the previous night.  A band with all of the above, including some top ten hits and did less than half the attendance of the GBS Concert.  Thanks to all hands for such a show of support.

Rolled almost directly from the stage to Rhode Island.  The drive took almost 11 hours and I confess that I missed every kilometer of it.  I slept the entire journey.  I cannot remember the last time I honestly slept for more than 8 hours on one go.  I woke like a man ready to run a triathlon.  And Sean and me almost did just that.  We ran around the Festival grounds near Charleston clicked off about 10 k’s before finding a swimming hole, peeled of our shirts and shoes and dove in the welcome cool water.  

Hung on the bus most of the afternoon and watched The Story of Anvil.   This film is easily the best rock documentary I’ve ever seen, and will introduce you to one of the most endearing and unlikely heroes you’ll ever see on screen.  I won’t say too much about it other than to say it is a must see, regardless if you are a Heavy Metal music fan or not.

Got to see Jerry Douglas at the Festival.  For those of you who don’t know, he is the worlds best dobro player and is a superstar in the folk music world.  He may very well be the most recorded musician in history as he is reported to have played on over 1600 records, including many with the likes of Allison Krauss, Dixie Chix, and many more acts that span the music landscape.  He was incredible and is truly one of the best instrumentalists in history.  

Following a very well received set of mostly folk songs, we rolled to Pearson Airport in Toronto and dashed for the flight that is now dipping it’s nose to home.  It’s not quite supper time so I should get to do story and bed with the Prince.  

The perfect end to a great weekend.

Thanks again to all hands for making a grand time.

Cheers,
Alan

It’s a sunny Happy Hour here in London. Friday faces everywhere.   The streets are packed with thirsty looking folks with wearing their best work/out clothes.  You know, the outfit the ladies save for Friday at work in case they go for a pint right after the whistle blows.  All hands walking with purpose to their chosen local, here in the Heaven of Pub Culture.

I am a big fan of this time of the week, when the people who just can’t wait for Friday Night, race from their desks to the bar.  But I am not joining them today.   Whist they have their workday behind them, mine is just beginning.  Myself and Scott Grimes, who plays Will Scarlett, are working the night shoot tonight.  We get picked up at 5pm and must be made up and camera ready for dark.  We are shooting a fight scene, but I can’t tell you anymore than that about the action.  I can tell you that I’ll probably work till 4am, then hope to turn the body clock around enough have a normal Saturday and Sunday.

Like I said, this is Friday.  This is a significant Friday.  This is the last day of the second last week of filming.  All things being well, in exactly 7days, the Assistant Director will shout, “Cut. Checking the Gate.  That’s a picture wrap for Allan A’Dayle.”  And that will be it.  Quick as that all my scenes will be shot.  All my involvement in the principal photography will be complete.  There may be some postproduction to follow in the months to come, but as of one week from now, the twenty week mountain will have been climbed.

And not just by me, of course.  Many folks have worked many more hours than I on this massive project, and all hands will be delighted to call it a day.

I’ve been consumed by this project since the first week of December, 2008, when, some of you may recall, I jetted from the GBS SmilingLand gig in Toronto for a meeting about this film.  Since then, I’ve pretty much been awash in a boys dream, of fight school, sword lessons, archery competitions, horse riding, training and admiring the skills of the amazing actors I’ve had the pleasure of studying. 

I’ve walked in a Ridley Scott Medaevil Set designed and built by the best in the world and filled with folks in full period garb.  This is as close to time travel as one could hope to experience.  I have felt the Earth move beneath me as a hundred plus horses and riders stormed a breathtaking Welsh beach. 

I cannot begin to describe this whole experience yet.  Give me a few weeks and I’ll have a better perspective.  Because right now I’ve got my eye hard on the prize, and there’s no prize I want more than to sit in my kitchen and watch my little fella play with his trains. Hopefully, AC Flight 861 is on time this weekend, and after a brief stop in Halifax, I’ll get to eat Sunday Brunch at home.

Look forward to seeing you all at the shows.

Cheers
Alan

Today marks the beginning of the second half of this grand adventure.  I believe this is day one of Week 11 of what is officially a 20 Week commitment.  So, there it was, quick as that, more than half done.  Funny what routine teaches us to accept as normal isn’t it? This whole Film Unit, from the actors to the grounds keepers has grown into a very familiar workplace.  Folks discussing their weekend’s activities over Monday morning coffee and hoping for the weather to be suitable for the days ahead.  All very routine and regular, till you step outside of it for a moment and realize that the person next to you chatting about their local laundry supplies store is driving a bloody arrowhead into some dude’s neck.  Same old, same old.  Funny.

Also funny is the fact that I have a whole group of friends and colleagues who have only known me as a bearded person.  Several times over the past weeks, a person from the production has approached me explaining that they googled the band, or myself and saw all these pictures of me without my beard.  They find it very weird to see me with no facial hair.  

Many funny and odd aspects to this wonderful detour I find myself exploring.

Funny hearing people from the UK speak of the ‘great’ distances across this Island.  Coming from Newfoundland or anywhere in Canada for that matter, there are no great distances in the UK.  Everything is really close to everything else.  Not the way the locals see it.  Londoners talk of taking the train to Scotland, like it is to be a barefoot walk across the Sahara.  They think Belfast is a remote and isolated place that one could only hope to see once in a lifetime.  

The entire production shifts to Wales next week.  It is charming to hear all the Londoners making plans for the big trip and how they will pack for the journey.  I’m sitting there in the middle of it nodding, when I really want to smirk, and say,

 ‘Guy’s its Wales.  It’s right there.  We can almost see it.  It is closer to here than Gander is to St John’s.  It’s like shifting from Toronto to Kingston.  It would take a few days, but we could walk there. Literally.’

But of course, that would be rude.  So, myself and Kevin, who plays Little John, who grew up in Thunder Bay, Ontario, which for those of you who don’t know, is a full day’ s drive from everywhere, just wink at each other and have our own little Canadian in joke.  Sneaky, I suppose, but better than the alternative.

Looking forward to the stint in Wales.  We should be there for two weeks and the change of scenery is welcomed.  Especially considering we are headed to South Wales, which has some of the mot spectacular coastline in the world.  I’ll be bringing the Mountain Bike, for sure.

After the Wales trip, there are a few weeks of filming back here and then that’s it.  Jaysus, how fast time flies.  I am due to be here till the 15th of August, then home for a couple of days before joining up with the GBS bus on the 18th to make our way to Cape Cod.  

Looking forward to a concert, I guarantee you.  Might sing a few extra ones that night.

Keep you posted.
Cheers,
Alan

My horse’s name is Arthur.  Unlike myself, Arthur is a veteran of many films.  For fear of breaking some protocol, I won’t list Arthur’s credits but trust me; this dude has been on screen more times than anyone else in this film.  He has carried Roman Soldiers, Crusaders, Cowboys, Knights, and now, Merry Men.

I am a very unaccomplished horseman.  Thanks to some clever instruction over the past few months, I can honestly say that I know how to ride a horse, but I will not be anywhere near Arthur’s list of favorite passengers.  I’ve done six or seven riding scenes now where we trot canter or gallop on or off screen and all of them have gone well, with all the film folks satisfied or delighted with the results.

A few days back, we were doing a scene where we ride down a road lined with…oops, should not say what…site this is hard.  In any case, after a few takes bolting down the road, I was starting to get very used to the whole thing.  Arthur did the exact same steps every time and his rhythm became very smooth.  I almost felt like a real rider. 

The AD (Assistant Director), called ‘Action’ and off we went one more time.  Again, Arthur pushed along like the best drummer in the world and I fell into his perfect tempo, ta da dump, ta da dump.  This would be like all the other takes, I figured.  Just sit up straight and stay in the moment. 

But then a sudden burst of power that I had not felt before; not a real jerk or stammer, just a gear that Arthur had not yet chosen to show me.  I was a little spooked, I confess.  Then, a half second later, I become aware that there is no sound.  Nothing but air and wind.  No reassuring backbeat of Arthur’s horseshoes hitting the ground.  Then a bit of a lurch forward as the momentum of whatever the frig just happened came to a bit of a crashing end.  I felt my whole self lurch forward over Arthur’s neck and head; not where you want to be.  I felt my left foot come out of the stirrup; not good.  I felt my weight slide to the right but managed to keep that foot in that stirrup and keep myself aboard.   Then, another half second later, we are right back into his familiar gate and all is well.

A few hundred meters later, when some one yelled ‘Cut’, I came to a halt with the other riders and was just about to ask, “What the f@#k just happened?”, when one of the stunt dudes came over and noted, “That was cool the way you jumped that puddle.”

Excuse me?  Jumped?

Apparently, just before the last take, the special effects gents, must have re-wetted the area and apparently, a puddle had formed in the path where one had not been till now.  Arthur must have chosen, as it is a film veteran’s right to do, that he did not want to get his feet wet this late in the day, and leapt over the puddle instead of running through it.

I did not see the playback of the scene, but I can’t imagine proud warrior Allan A’Dayle stayed on that horse in mid flight.  I suspect shitbaked folksinger Alan Doyle made an appearance somewhere in there, and he does not belong in the 12th Century. 

Speaking of the ages, I am in the dying hours of my 30’s.  In just a few days, I’ll say goodbye to my thirty something’s, which served me very well.  Many thanks to all of you for your part in making the past decade so outstanding.

Wishing the same for the next one.

And the one after that.

Cheers,
Alan

0-10 at the Junos.  Oh well, could be worse I suppose.  Could be 0-11. Or worse again, 0-0.

Truth be told, I heard a while back that the Group of the Year Award was based on CD sales, but I could not get anyone to confirm that this was the case.  This was probably intentional as knowing this in advance would confirm the winner instantly.  Fortunes Favour has sold very well, approaching Platinum Status, but still nowhere near Nickleback or Simple Plan numbers.  Congrats to the Nickel Boys.  They work like dogs, and I’ve heard their single in taxi cabs in five countries on four continents in the past few weeks.  Their Juno is well deserved.

GBS’s triumphant dance on the Juno podium will have to wait for another year at least.

Thought our performance went well, as Sean’s pipe ripping lead vocal lead us through the show’s finale.  Not bad for a fella with a lung infection.  Really enjoyed playing with Hawk, who is quite a guitar shredder, especially considering he is a drummer by trade.  Bastard.  The Ecco dudes are real gents and would love to get them on a CD soon.  If you missed the show, you can see it on the CTV website and keep an eye on www.greatbigsea.com for details about how to purchase last nights song online, with all the $$$ going to charity.

Had some serious pangs of reservation and loneliness as I bid a quick ‘Cheers’ to the GBS Cast and Crew last evening.  I had to dash to the airport right off stage to catch a red-eye to Toronto to connect with this flight to make it to London in time for the film.  All hands sad to acknowledge that we won’t be together for a few months and last night could be our last tune together till August.  Four months is far less than most bands breaks, but this feels like a lifetime for GBS.  I am not certain, but strongly suspect that this will be the longest gap between performances since the band’s debut in 1993.  

That said, our Agent, Jack Ross, informed me that our August date in Toronto is off to a roaring start, selling several thousand tickets in the first few hours since going on sale.  Many thanks for those of you who have planned to attend that weekend.  There should be more August and Fall dates announced in the coming weeks.  
Back to my moonlighting as a 13th Century Troubadour, with a sword in one hand and a Lute in the other.  Equally ready to flay you open with steel or song.

Stay tuned.

Cheers,
Alan

What an exceptional week of Rink Rock.  This must be how Trooper’s career was in 1988.  Hockey Rink after Hockey Rink stuffed with partiers ready to go long before the first chord is struck.  Sitting backstage in Windsor, hearing the excitement of the folks about to enjoy the Christening big show in their new rink was a cool rush, I must say.  I felt a little like a Beatle or Bon Jovi or someone like that.  I actually wished I had a wireless mic and guitar in a couple of this past week’s shows.  I swear I would have pranced my way all over the place and did my best Bono-esque wandering into the crowd.  Cool.

Had a grand night out in Montreal.  No big surprise there.  All hands down to Hurley’s for hugs, pints and songs.  Hurley’s is easily my favourite pub in the world outside of home.  It just has the most options available to you.  You can saddle up to the bar and chat with the able bar staff, wander to a quiet corner with your mates and chat quietly, or stand in the middle of the dance floor and sway with the revelers as Jonathon or Dave or one of the other accomplished musicians whip the crowd into a frenzy.  And, of course, they serve the best pints on the mainland of North America.  Grand spot.

We are playing a gig in Victoria on Thursday as we make our way West for the Juno’s, but effectively last night’s performance in the Nation’s Capitol was the last night of the Fortune’s Favour Tour.  How cool that we basically ended with the biggest night of the whole run with almost 6000 folks singing along in the Civic Center.  Ottawa remains the single biggest city in the world for GBS.  How cool to finish there.

Now, astute readers will notice I mentioned heading West in the paragraph above, while the Flight path of this aircraft noted further above has me heading anything but West.  In keeping with the March Madness, I am flying right over the Rock and am bound for London to continue pre-production for the Robin Hood flick.  I hope to reunite with RC and the other Merry Men for four days of rehearsal and training for all that is to come.  As noted in the last FTR, on Thursday, I fly direct from London to Vancouver, (will I go over the North Pole or something?) and connect to Victoria.  In true International Rock and Roll fashion, I’ll arrive just in time to sound check and gig.  The adrenaline of the event should be firing hard and high by then.

Miles to go.

Cheers,
Alan

Finally homeward bound after more than three weeks on the move.  I think this is the longest stint away from H since he was born.  Hard on the head.  Skype helps, but it is no replacement for the real deal.  Almost there.

Sad news from home with the North Atlantic seems to have claimed a few more of Newfoundland’s own.  A chopper bound for a couple of offshore oil stations went down yesterday and it appears only two of the 18 people aboard will be found and only one clinging to life.  As many of you know, we folks of the Rock have had a give and take relationship with the sea for over 500 years.  Mother ocean has been our chief source of food, employment and commerce, and in reality her bounty is the solely responsible the existence of our Colony, Nation, and Province.  Yet she has claimed more than a few of our sons and daughters over the years, and it looks like the song remains the same.

Sean sent out a tune to the families and indeed the passengers of the Chopper themselves last night.  Very appropriately, he chose ‘England’ from Fortune’s Favour, a song he penned about the hardships of living off the angry brine.  

Class act.  Well done

Both the Halifax and Moncton shows were a thrill.  We have not played a big gig in New Brunswick in a number of years and we were so pleased with the considerable turn out and response on a Cold and snowy Wednesday night.   Halifax continues to be our home away from home.  Last night we beat our indoor paid attendance record for Halifax with almost 5000 folks in the house. That’s an astounding show of support for a band that has been playing regularly in the city for a decade and a half.  I am so grateful.

No late night shenanigans last night, however as I was too eager to get home in a fresh frame of mind.  Shame to miss a night on the town in Halifax, but I confide that my mind was one Province east as soon as the show finished last night.  I would have red-eyed if one was available.

Hope the wee fella is not spooked by the bearded dude who wakes him up from his nap this afternoon.  He’s seen the facial hair grow on daily Skype sessions, but I fear the in person effect might be too much.

 

Here’s for a big gig on Saturday in the town that matters most.

Cheers,
Alan
 

Back on the bus following an interesting few weeks around the BNL Cruise.
First of all let me say that I’m sad to hear Steve Page is leaving the Ladies, but wish him and the remaining lads well in their endeavors.  With their talents and energy, I am sure we’ll be hearing a lot from all hands for a long time to come.

Now to get some news off my chest.  I’m terrible at keeping secrets, so this announcement comes with great relief.  Yours truly has been cast as the Troubadour, Allan A’Dayle in the new Universal Pictures Untitled Robin Hood Film.  The film is to star Russell Crowe and Cate Blanchett, and to be directed by Ridley Scott.  If you recall, I had to scoot to LA after the big fundraising gig in Toronto last December.  I went, Lute in hand, to read and sing for the part and must have done all right, as I’ve been offered and accepted the gig.

For a number of days prior to and following the BNL Cruise, I was in Australia with Russell, and some of the other Merry Men, training in Horse Riding, Archery, Weapons Training and a few other skills required for the role.  It was great fun, I must say, to look at your schedule for the day and have it read like a 12 year old boy’s fantasy; bows and arrows at 10am, sword fighting at 11am etc.

Like all good things, this opportunity comes with some sacrifice.  GBS will have to bow out of this year’s Merlefest, Chautauqua and Iowa Irish Festival gigs, as the film’s shooting schedule does not allow me to make it to the Festivals from the sets in the UK.  Too bad, as we all wanted to join up with the long list of heralded music at those events.  The organizers have been very understanding and all hands hope we can make it there as soon as possible, maybe even 2010.

Filming should take up the bulk of the second quarter of 2009, so our March concerts in the US and the Canadian Dates with Spirit of the West will be the last chance to see us for a few months.  It will be business as usual in the GBS camp in the second half of this year as we plan to tour and record as per normal.

I am very grateful to the Cast and Crew of GBS for their permission and support for this sabbatical, and hope you’ll continue to join me here as I hope to post regular blogs throughout the film shoot.  Don’t expect me to give away the plot or anything, but I hope to share as much of this experience as possible with everyone who enjoys this diary.

Should be fun.

Cheers,
Alan

Hey

GBS had a grand gig at drop-in center known as the Gathering Place here in St. John’s.  This facility provides support, recreation, and meals to folks in need.  A couple of days back, they were having their Christmas Party and they asked us to come and play for the celebration.  

It was a great day and all hands left feeling in the spirit of the season.

Local CBC showed up and took some cool video, which you can now watch online here. 

You’ll see Sean, Bob, and myself and if you wait till the 3:48 mark you’ll see a couple of special guests who shared the stage with us.  You can call them Jean and Tom.  I call them Mom and Dad.

Have a great holiday season everybody.

Cheers,
Alan

Rode overnight from Edmonton to Calgary on the bus last night, which should wind up my moving sleeps for this tour, and for the foreseeable future.  Bit of a bittersweet departure, actually, as I love the convenience of the bus and having your stuff close to the gig at all times.  That said, two days in posh hotels in each of Calgary and Vancouver sounds pretty appealing after rolling around North America since August.

Feeling a little fatigued, I confess.  Fatigued in ways that are new to me. The pipes are a bit strained after many shows in a row, but I’m well used to the honey-tea and Thayer’s lozenges that come with the sixth show in as many days.  Today, my right shoulder hurts and the first finger and thumb on my right hand are tender from gripping the guitar pick, I suppose.  Must be getting old.

GBS has enjoyed a few spectacular nights in the last week.  Every show Sold Out since Thunder Bay, including a rammed Jubilee Theater in Edmonton last night.  At almost 2600 seats, the Jubilee could very well be a hockey rink. 

Really enjoyed Murray’s Johnny Cash cover in Regina, and loved singing ‘She Ain’t Pretty’ in Saskatoon, myself.  Had a few good jogs with Sean and Murray at different points, but my favourite run was a solo effort that found me a new friend.

I left the theatre in Regina and started around what I later learned was the Wascana Lake.  It is bordered by a dandy trail that snakes through the woods and meadows that surround the water.  All was normal on my solitary jog and had brought myself to the middle of nowhere when I rounded a corner and was met with a small worried looking face of a wee beast.  There in the snow, looking rather chilled and nervous was a brown and white terrier type dog who seemed eager to have someone come along.

I stopped and said my usual greeting for animals, which are not that different from my conversations with people, by the way.  The pooch was very receptive and I decided to do the jog test, to see if she was interested in following, or had her own agenda for the day.  Indeed she followed and continually ran ten steps ahead of me, turned around and sat to face me and occasionally stood on her hind paws ever so slightly.  My years as a dog owner has taught me that this is canine speak for “I’m friggin’ lost.  Please pick me up.”

I obliged her and offered a few words of encouragement and had a look at her nametag that some responsible owner had secured to the dog’s collar.  “Angel”, flowed by a street address and a phone number.  I brushed Angel off and laid her back down and re-tried the jog test with the same results.  Since there was not a house to be seen for miles, I concluded that she would be hard pressed to find her way home and might benefit from a courtesy call to the owners.

I had my cell phone on me and dialed the number.  A younger male voice answered and I said something ill advised in what must have sounded dognapper-esque like, “I have your dog…” or something 24ish like that.   The young fella seemed confused and a little scared and whispered, “I’m gonna get my Mom.”

By the time the lady came to the phone I had managed to adjust my tone and politely explained the situation and that I’d gladly lead Angel to the Tour Bus and she could be retrieved whenever was convenient.  She was very grateful and said that she’d meet me at the bus momentarily.

Me and Angel finished our lap of the lake and had a few bonding moments on the GBS Bus.  Kris snapped a shot.

 

Shortly thereafter, a relieved lady came and Angel seemed very excited to see her.  They left and went on their way.  I must say, I was kind of sad to see her go.  She was great company for while.  I felt lucky to come across her.

Currently in the lobby of a schmancy hotel and the front desk ladies have given me a key to my room.  A few more shows till we rest.

Hope to get sent another Angel or two.  T’is the Season after all.

Don’t often fly WestJet, as they still don’t have as many flights as their competitors in and out of Newfoundland.  Somehow, Westjet has done the seemingly impossible.  They have made Airplane travel simple.  You show up, you get on the plane, you pay the fare they ask, and they drive you to the agreed destination in a clean and safe vehicle.  That’s pretty much it.  Everyone’s happy.  No big promises, no big expectations, no big letdowns. 

Had a very enjoyable couple of days home.  However brief, it is such a luxury to dash back to your own bed, wash your clothes and most of all, and spend time with the family.

Back to the gigs today with a big and busy period ahead.  The long journey West has us performing 8 two-set shows in 9 days, followed by a long flight back to Toronto for a big Charity event.  More about that later. 

For now all hands are focused on delivering our best to some of our most devoted fans in North America.  Folks from cities like Winnipeg and Saskatoon have been on the GBS bandwagon since day one and I can’t wait to show my appreciation for their years of dedication with a great show.  We’ve played some of our biggest shows in the Peg and look forward to dancing in the new(ish) Rink.

Speaking of Rink Rock, what a run we had last week in Southern Ontario.  Without delving too far into to the numbers and particulars, suffice it to say GBS enjoyed one of the biggest weeks in our history as Kingston, Kitchener, and Oshawa, gave us sold out hockey rinks approaching 12,000 fans in those four nights.  Add a near sell out in the Barrie Rink and a standing room only crowd in the Hamilton Theater, and you’ve got one hell of a week under your belt.  All tolled, GBS played for just under 20,000 people in six days last week.  (The sixth show, by the way was a private function for the Ontario Truckers Convention…pretty big gig as well).

That’s some serious numbers for a band in its fifteenth year. 

Many Thanks to all who came to share the night, with a slight thank-you point’s deduction dealt to the gals in Hamilton who decided to use the stage as their posing platform for their Facebook page, or whatever.  I confess I find folks sitting on the stage during the show and facing the audience while their friends fumble with cameras and flashes, to be a tad distracting.  I have a hard enough time remembering the words and chords as it is.  

My attention span is just too…hey look pretzels.

Looking forward to another big week on the aptly named Fortunate Tour.

Cheers,
Alan

How do you follow Great Big Sea Day?  Seriously, by official proclamation of His Worship Bob Kiss, Friday, October 31st, 2008, was Great Big Sea Day in Burlington, Vermont.

C’mon.  That’s pretty friggin’ cool.

Bit of a day filled with mixed emotions, really.  Beautiful weather, lovely city, effectively a sold out show on GBS Day, and I was dying to go home.  I’ve had my share of tinges of homesickness but I can honestly say, for the first time in my professional career, I would have cancelled a big show to fly home yesterday to join the Halloweening.

Spent the whole day Skyping home and receiving emailed photos of my son Henry and all the neighbourhood kids in full regalia.  They were having a ball and I wanted to be there so bad that it actually hurt. 

By late afternoon, I decided to go for a run to clear my head and get myself in the right frame of mind to do the concert justice.  Mistake.  I ended up getting lost and by dusk I found myself in a residential area where dozens of Dad’s led their little Thomas the Tank Engines and Pirates and such around by hand as they Trick or Treated up and down the perfect fall Vermont streets.  Jaysus, it was depressing. I ran to the end of one perfect Halloween scene and in an effort to discretely get away, I smacked right into some post on the corner.  To make a bad situation worse, I look up to see what has clobbered me, and it was a sign that read “Henry St.” 

Wow, I should be home.

On the way back to the Theatre with night coming on, I ran down the pedestrian high street.  It is one of the nicer ones in the US, lined with shops and pubs, and swarming with all kinds of folks with their Friday faces on.  Each block of the high street is divided from the next by a crossing street for cars.  The walkers are protected from roaming onto the middle of the cross street and into the path of oncoming vehicular traffic by lovely black cast iron posts connected by a dark grey chains that are clearly visible in the daylight hours.  But not so visible to depressed folksingers in the dark.

At full romp, I took one of the chains right around the middle of the thigh and went flying into the crossing street and landed about a meter in front of a moving Police Car.  Luck for me Burlington’s Finest, are sharper than me and hit the brakes before making tire food out of yours truly.

They jumped from the car and very reasonably assumed that I was drunk.  When they asked if I’d been drinking, I replied,

“Not yet Officer, but that sounds like a good idea.”

Thankfully, the show went very well.  Sang ‘Testify’, a tune I wrote with Russell Crowe for the first time ever.   Cool tune.

Had a few pints with audio guy Steve for his 40th and watched drunken college kids in all kinds of foolish and suggestive costume.  They must have hammered to put on some of those get-ups…though, despite hours of observation, I saw not one of them trip up in the dark grey chain.

Great Big Sea Day indeed.

Cheers,
Alan

Beautiful afternoon in Charlotte as the GBS Bus is parked on a textbook American Campus here at Queens University.  Brick Buildings surrounded by well-tended lawns dotted with the earliest leaves to give up the fight against the Fall.  Chased Sean around some of the best-kept homes and gardens I’ve ever seen in the US and wound up in Freedom Park; a city park with a large man made pond, perfect grass, and a dandy amphitheatre that I’d love to play sometime.  The place reminded me of one of the great parks in London, England, albeit much smaller.

This tour has been going very well considering the uncertainty in the US Economy.  Sold Out in Rochester, very big houses in Boston and Baltimore, and a very respectable first appearance in Keene, NH, has spirits and morale fairly high after week one.  A day off in Atlanta tomorrow should buoy us along to get through the week with all systems go.  But you never know.

Do Jessica Simpson and Jennifer Love Hewitt really need Proactiv?  Sorry, but the Satellite TV on the bus has been on the cooking station all day long and every 15 minutes, one of these Hollywood Dolls is schilling this Acne Solution. It has dawned on me to wonder if there is an odd irony at play here.  I’ve never met either of these fine ladies in person, so I’m really just talking shite here, but some cynical part of me suspects neither of the above mentioned gals has had a blemish in her life.  The ‘before’ photos actually look doctored, as if they photo-shopped in pimples on Daisy Duke.  Interesting.

Normally TV Ads make celebrities seem larger than life and perfect, not more flawed.  I’m sure every hair care commercial has doctored the images to make the models look better, not worse.   I find it believable that Tiger Woods drives a Buick and I’ve seen him using Nike Golf balls, but I just can’t picture one of the supermodels noted slathering Proactiv on their perfect cheeks. 

Don’t get me wrong; I don’t blame them for taking the check if indeed they don’t use the stuff.  I’d certainly do the same.  I just find it interesting that the campaign relies on the viewer accepting that these women have had skin issues.

Hoping for good crowd tonight to round off a good week.

Fingers crossed.

Cheers,
Alan

Lovely morning in Boise.  There's a definite chill in the Sunny Saturday morning air that exclaims the end of our summer touring. The passersby the bus are covered in thermal wear and woolly hats, and there is not as pair of shorts or t-shirt to be seen. Bring on the Fall.

'Does Summer feel the Winter come'...from Here and Now. That's one of my favourite GBS lyrics; favourite lyrics of all time for that matter. I can brag about it because I did not come up with it. Sean wrote it during our brainstorming sessions for the Fortunes Favour CD. I instantly loved the words and asked Sean what he thought it meant.  He replied something like,

"you know, does Summer feel itself dying, does every flower and plants passing, sting a little. 'Does Summer fell the Winter come'...you know dude, like, does it hurt."

Friggin Cool.

Had a few dandy days treading on new ground in Albuquerque, NM, and Murray, Utah. My wanderlust is still alive and well and I'm thrilled that my job regularly takes me to new destinations. Played golf in both towns with Bob and Murray and Bus Driver JP. Enjoyed the desert and mountain views in the respective towns and met some kind folks by the bus after each show. Many Thanks.

Denver has been one of GBS's biggest US audiences since day one. Amazing that our progress there has been so quick. A couple of nights ago we headlined the Paramount Theatre in Denver. That's the A Room for sure. Next stop after that is the Hockey Rink. Gotta like it. Thanks to all the Denver folks for filling the more than 1400 seats. Hope we can come back to the area in the New Year.

Just getting ready to chase McCann around again. I've been running with, I mean behind, him every other day or so on this tour. Tough to catch him on a normal day, but he looks particularly ready to scoot up and down the River Banks today.

 

Me thinks I’m in for a beating.

Two shows to go.

We'll soon enjoy the charms of our sweethearts and our friends.

Cheers,
Alan

How’s this for a lovely photo of Molly with the Historic St. John’s Harbour in the background?

Now, I know what you’re thinking. 

‘Doyle may have lost it and is posting pics of his dog on the Internet.  All politeness aside, this family pic has no place in this forum and Doyle is obviously drinking in the daytime as he types his Blogs.’

I don’t blame you one bit, Dear Reader, for making this assumption, but as it turns out, I am perfectly lucid and would love to explain the seemingly inappropriate, domestic, out of character, shot that sits above.

Molly is a Regal Beast and deserves a photo shoot any time if you asked me.  Likewise the skyline of Old St. John’s with the sunshine pushing the clouds back out to sea is worthy of a snapshot.  However, the focus in this timely piece of photojournalism is neither the Dog of Dogs nor the City of Cities, but the massive cruise ship that dwarfs many of the 100-year-old buildings in the downtown core.

Now, I know what you’re thinking.

‘Doyle has definitely lost it if he thinks we are interested in random tourist shots of cruise ships.  Dear Alan, I think we are all quite aware what a cruise ship looks like and we’ve seen lost of postcard shots of the city that you go on and on about.  Before you post anymore ‘enlightening’ images, please know that we’ve all seen airplanes land and have rode on the escalator at the Mall.’ 

That’s what I would think if I were you, anyway.

But this is no random boat.  This is the Norwegian Jewel, and if my research proves correct, this is the venue for Ships and Dips in February.  This is the craft that will ferry many of us to bliss and joy on the Caribbean Seas in the New Year’s dead of Winter.  Just thought it was cool to see it at home. 

Made me hope for a grand time come 2009.

Did a cool interview in Manhattan with a website called Do Something.  We spoke mostly about Daffodil Place, and mine and the bands effort to put something back into the community that gave us so much.  Check it out.

Hope it raises more awareness about the cause.

Currently sitting in 12D about one quarter of the way from Toronto to Vancouver.  Already flew from St. John’s to Toronto, but have no memory of the journey.  I know I got up and showered at 5AM, and got a Taxi to the airport.  I can recall nothing of the boarding process or flight.  Sleeping on planes is a Godsend. 

I hope this long flight across this vast land affords more of the same.

Really enjoyed the few days home, I must say. Looking forward to a few gigs in the West.  Hitting a few new spots is always a traveler’s treat.  Never been to Albuquerque or San Luis Obispo, I don’t think.  It’s always good to see old friends in Seattle, San Fran, and Denver.  An inner tube ride in Boise is a must.  One could even hope for a star sighting or two in Hollywood. 

Much to hope for, isn’t there?

Cheers,
Alan

Sort of had a day off on Monday as we had no evening performance.  We did, however, have to get up at 5AM to load into the Cleveland Fox Station.  We’d been invited to be the Band for the Day on the very popular morning show and despite my distaste for singing in the early morning, I jumped at the opportunity to play in front of a viewership of over 2 million.

The folks at the Station were kind to us and gave us several hits on the broadcast.  We, of course, took over the place as much as possible and even invaded the Anchor area;

We left the Fox Station and went directly to the Hotel in downtown Cleveland. We were pretty bagged, but the rooms were not ready.  I took advantage of the time to have a dandy breakfast at the Juniper Grill, I believe, and did my laundry in between Eggs Benny’s.  Very productive, I thought.
Just as the clothes were dry, the lady gave me a key to my room.  I’m off to a flying star on this day, I thought.  Who knows what else I could get done.  I went to my room and lay on the bed for a moment, and woke up three and a half hours later.  I swear I woke up at 3PM and I felt like I had been on Acid for a whole weekend.  Completely spaced out and had not a j.d. clue where I was.  I honestly had to look at the hotel card on the desk to remind myself I was in Cleveland.

Not much to report from the rest of that day.  I returned many overdue emails and surfed the web till I could not stare at the screen any longer, then had a supper with some of the lads in the hotel bar.  I was in bed by midnight.

Played golf with Bob and Driver JP on Tuesday and had a blast.  Did not score that well, as I have not been playing much, but managed a 94 as my putter saved me more than once.  I was hoping to play a lot on this run, but the daytime press commitments have been pretty consistent, and that is a good thing, I suppose.

We had good crowds at the two Ohio shows considering much of the State is still without electricity and many folks are at home dealing with Insurance Companies that are threatening to go out of business any day.  Not to mention the fact that the economy is way down, price of gas is way up.  I suppose if you plan to be in a touring band for fifteen-plus years, you have to expect to roll with the punches.

Currently sitting behind the Theatre in Pittsburgh.  Already made an appearance at a morning TV Station, did some exercise at the local YMCA, ate some Mexican, bought a few gifts for the Family, did sound check, had a band conference call with Manager Louis, rehearsed a new set of tunes with Bob, and have all but typed a new FTR Blog.  It is not quite 5PM.  
Jaysus, still 3 hours till Showtime.  Where does the time come from?

Rock on.

Cheers,
Alan

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

I spent he better part of this morning eavesdropping.  I do that a lot.  It’s not that deceptive as I have warned everyone that I can hear every conversation I choose to from the comfort of my well positioned bunk.  Let me explain.

My bunk of choice on the bus is closest to the front.  There are four groups of bunks stacked three high.  The middle bunk is the best choice as the top ones are quiet, but move the most as they are furthest from the pavement.  The bottom bunks are very stable, but noisy as they are close to the tires on the pavement.  There are four middle bunks, Me, Sean and Bob get first dibs on them and I chose drivers side front. It’s a great bunk, and I came by it through seniority.  The front bunks are further from the engine, but closer to front lounge where most of the action occurs. 

After a long flight and a grand night in Edmonton, we set off on a long bus ride to Ft. Mac.  I’ve missed by bus bunk over our recent hiatus and I took to it like a sailor to rum shop.  I fell into a perfect sleep and did not wake till this morning when we turned onto the streets of this city. 

The boys, Sean, Bob and Murray must have succumbed to their body clocks, stuck o time zones far east of here and had been awake for hours.  Their conversation was in full flight rolling over possibilities for our days off our upcoming European run.  It’s not often we get two or three days off in a ten day tour,  but the routing of the Scottish, English, and Danish Festivals that lie ahead, afford us this uncommon luxury.  This novelty, coupled with the myriad of travel options within an hour of London, has all of us in a tizzy trying to decide what to do with our free time. 

Pretty good problem to have, though, isn’t it?

For those of you wondering about the next CD, GBS now has over 20 songs written, collected and demoed.  I, for one am ready to get started in the Fall.

But a few fun Summer nights lay ahead before we get down to the business of making the greatest record in history.

Hope to see you soon.

Cheers,
Alan

Yes, I am at the Cabin.  Mainland North Americans would call this place a cottage; some would call it a summer home, camp, lodge, or chalet.  In Newfoundland, however, these places are always called Cabins.  It is a wee quiet spot where there’s not much to do but play with your little fella.  Perfect.

While he’s napping, I thought you’d like to know about our day on Friday past.  One of the most Rock and Roll travel days I’ve ever had.  We were contracted to play a Corporate Function for Shell Canada.  Apparently, Shell has just been bought by a Dutch Conglomerate and will cease to operate as an independent company.  This event was their last hurrah. 

And what a hurrah it was.  They had rented the entire Olympic Oval in Calgary, and removed the ice surfaces and boards from two Olympic size hockey rinks and the Speed Skating track.  The place was decorated so extensively and tastefully, that it looked like the coolest Prom I’d ever seen.  There were at least six ice sculptures as big as refrigerators, more drapery and temporary carpeting than I’ve ever seen in one place, and enough PA, Lighting, Special Effects, Pyrotechnics, and Video Systems for a Rolling Stones Concert. 

The Entertainment for the event was Great Big Sea and Cirque du Soleil.  Enough said.

Myself, Sean and Bob were recording in St. John’s till Thursday and we all had family events that we wanted to attend on Saturday.  So, we left home at 6:30 Friday morning and flew direct to Calgary with a short stopover in Halifax.  We arrived in Calgary just before noon and we went to the gig for the sound check just after lunch.  We returned to the hotel by late afternoon and about two hours later were shuttled back to the Olympic Oval, and played our set.  We walked of stage at 10:30 pm and bolted for the airport to catch a Midnight Red Eye Flight from Calgary to Toronto.  We connected there with a 6:30 AM flight to St. John’s and arrived home shortly after 11 in the morning.

From St. John’s, Newfoundland to Calgary, Alberta; four time zones away; play a gig and be home in the backyard with Molly in just over 24 Hours later. 

That’s Rock and Roll.

You may have noticed that there’s a new link on the GBS Homepage.  The flowery looking link leads you to the Daffodil Place website.  Daffodil Place is to be a residence for Cancer Patients from Rural Newfoundland who must travel to St. John’s for treatments unavailable in their own area.  I have joined the Campaign Committee for this 7 Million Dollar Fundraiser.  As a member of the team, I’ll be approaching, the Corporate Community, Public Groups and Individuals to donate to this worthy cause.

I could not help but jump on board for this Charity for several reasons.  I have first hand experience with Rural Newfoundlanders having to come to the Capital City Area for Healthcare.  Growing up in Petty Harbour, a short distance from St. John’s, our family often housed my Aunts and Uncles, Cousins and Friends from different parts of the Island when they had appointments and/or procedures in town.  It did not occur to me till I was an adult, that most Rural Families who have no relatives in St. John’s, would have to stay in expensive hotels near the hospital for weeks at a time, and spend hundreds, if not thousands of dollars just to see a doctor or receive ongoing treatment for illnesses like Cancer.

Every province in the country that needs a Facility like Daffodil House has one, except Newfoundland and Labrador.  This is made even more troubling when we consider that the geography and population distribution dictates that we need one the most.  This Province is a really big place.  Imagine cost of flying from coastal Labrador to St. John’s, spending weeks at a time in a city hotel, buying restaurant meals three times a day and transport costs to and from the Treatment Facility.  Some have spent over $5,000 for one extended treatment session. A Financial hit like that is impossible for some to manage and they opt for affordable care over the best care.  That is a choice that no one should make.

Daffodil Place will provide to these patients a Family Suite, three meals a day, as well as counseling and support for about $20 per day. 

Check out the info on the whole project at DaffodilPlace.ca

It’s my birthday tomorrow, I’ve asked all my friends to give to this project in lieu of a gift.

If you’d like to make a donation, I’d be very appreciative.

GBS is working hard on demos for the new CD.  It will Rock Planet Earth.

Cheers,
A

My computer crashed about four days ago. Drag. It serves as my work station and entertainment centre on the road and without it I’m seriously off my game. Just borrowed Audio guru Steve’s laptop for a quick fix.

Playing the Hammerstein Ballroom in NYC was a night I won’t soon forget. The Hammerstein is one of those Holy Shrines in music. The list of bands who’ve played there is far too long to list, but we are in the company of the music elite with our name on the billboard at the Hammerstein.  

The storm sure put a damper on the day off on Sunday. T’was not fit to put the dog out; as my grandmother would say.

I’m sure there are lovely neighborhoods in Norfolk. We were not in one on Tuesday.  I walked from the bus to a Laundromat only a few hundred feet down the street and feared for my life every step. After years of traveling, I’ve become savvy when it comes to avoiding dodgy areas, but there was no escaping the shady characters that stood behind the Liquor Store and on the Laundromat steps. Two gents in baggy pants, oversized hoodies and parkas were looking pretty nervous when this long haired freaky dude lugged his bag o’ dirty duds to the cleaners.  

Then a large black van came around the corner and made a deliberate turn towards the over clothed dudes and now myself as I mounted the sidewalk. As the van came to a sudden stop in front of the Laundromat, the large side door slowly slid open. I did not think much of it, but the two lads ran like escaping prisoners around the corner.

OK. Now I’m spooked. I figure that my nine lives are used up and my extensive run on luck is finally up. I am about to die in a drive by shooting.  

The van door fully opens and a lady who must be in her eighties steps from the van carrying a basket of dirty laundry. I hold the door open for her and she says, ‘Why, thank-you Son.”

I dropped my bag of clothes with the attendant. 90 minutes later I begged one of the guys to come with me to get it.  Like I said, I’m sure there must be a lovely stroll to be had in Norfolk. I look forward to having it.

Charlotte, NC tonight.  Rock on.

Cheers,
Alan

So, there is a town in Virginia called Harrisonburg. GBS played there a while back; might be three years ago, might be six. Not sure. If memory serves me correctly, it is tucked in the Appalachian Mountains somewhere close to the Shenandoah Park. When all hands gathered at Pearson Airport in Toronto on Monday night, and boarded the tour bus, I assumed we were headed across the border, straight for the mountains, to start the tour.

As per usual, the moment the bus rolled, I fell into a deep sleep. I woke in the morning, stumbled to the front lounge of the bus and slid up the horizontal blinds covering the large rectangular windows. All is normal; parked right next to the Stage Door of a theatre.  

I dash from the bus to do my traditional curious tourist circle around the neighborhood, but nothing seems familiar. Not a building or street corner tweaks my memory. As a matter of fact, this place looks a lot less like a mountain town than I remember. Down a long street of Irish pubs and Italian Restaurants, which you’d think I’d recall, I come face to face with what is obviously a beautiful State building.  

So, I’m thinking, ‘Harrisonburg is the Capitol of Virginia?  Really?!’

This whole stroll is not making sense.

I go back to bus and explain to the lads that I’m terribly confused. After a chorus of ‘what’s new?', I learn that I truly am an idiot and we are not in Harrisonburg, Virginia, at all, but actually in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.  We’ve never been here before.

Harrisburg is the Capitol of Pennsylvania, and is quite lovely. It has a grand river side walkway and yes, a beautiful State building.

Today, I am in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. I think.

Cheers,
Alan

Mission accomplished in St. Louis. My deepest gratitude to the kind folks who escorted myself and merch guy, Glen, to the heart of downtown St. Louis following our show at the University Theater. We had a rough one as the gig did not go as planned and the theatre and promoter made errors in the seating arrangement leaving audience members scrambling for re-arranged seats. Not quite up to the professional standard to which we aspire.  Apologies. All this strife doubled my resolve to have some positive experience.  The after show adventure made my day. In many ways.

The Mighty Mississippi separates St. Louis from East St. Louis and at night looks magical with the many illuminated Riverboats cruising revelers and gamblers up and down the grand waterway. From the lowered walkway lining the river, we ascended many (64, I was told) Rocky-like wide concrete steps. They are daunting in appearance as they look so narrow and steep, like climbing the side of a pyramid. By the time you hit only the third or fourth step, the top of the Gateway Arch comes into view.

I can’t comment on how the Arch looks in the cold light of day, but at night, it is truly wondrous. I had no idea that it is made of what appears to be stainless steel, so it catches every twinkle of light thrown at it. As you go up the staircase you get to see the geometric perfection of the curves and of the sleek lines of the bending column. You are almost to the top before you get the real prize.

The Arch in and of itself is cool, and very noble in that it serves no function or purpose other than beauty and providing visitors access to its peak with what must be a spectacular view. The real gem is what appears between the legs of the Arch as you finally reach the plateau of the park. The city skyline is framed perfectly and lit up like a Christmas Tree. The hotels and office buildings appear cleaner and statelier in this frame and light, and the whole place looks so inviting through one of the best front gates a city could ask for. The center and heart of the view is what seemed to this traveler as a small version of the gorgeous State buildings that each US State Capitol features prominently.  The white wee dome and curved glass seemed the perfect compliment to the mighty Arch.  Very friggin’ cool.

Here’s an appropriately blurry photo of Glen and me under the Arch.

And here’s us with the skyline.  Thanks for the photo’s Lou.

Well done St. Louis. Hope to spend a full night there sometime soon.

Sold Out show in Columbus tonight.
Rock on.

Cheers,
Alan

Currently passing through the suburbs of Kansas City heading towards downtown.  With the first half of the tour behind us, all hands are eager for a real bed. Personally speaking, the pipes could use a night off, as five show nights in a row is about all these out-of-practice vocal chords could handle.

We had a grand Paddy’s night in St. Paul. The sold out night at the O’Shaunessy marks one of GBS’s biggest paid audiences in the US. No late night hi-jinks however, as I wanted to save some juice for the crowd in Ames, Iowa.

Ames is a little city with one main street lined with shops and businesses, and I guess surrounded by farms. The main street comes to an abrupt halt at the gates of a fairly big factory. I convinced myself that it has something to do with processing corn… but I really have no idea.

When we pulled into the venue, an old high-school auditorium, I made my usual bolt from the bus and into the gig. I always like to check out the empty hall or club before all our stuff rolls in there. I suppose I get some romantic satisfaction in seeing the ‘before’ picture. So I dash into one of the theatre doors expecting to see the usual empty seats and the proscenium, but what awaits me is something quite different. I walk straight into the middle of an ongoing church service.

I’m not sure of the exact number, but I’d estimate that six hundred thousand pairs of eyes stopped praying and bible reading and turned to look at me. I, trying to look cool, (which never works, by the way) slipped casually into a seat and joined in the prayer or hymn or whatever was happening.  I remained there for a few readings and songs expecting to be asked to leave at any moment.  Then a large farmer looking gent stood up, brushed off his coat, took a long hard look at me and began his approach.

Convinced that I was about to be tossed for rudely interrupting the local service, I braced myself for an encounter with a much larger man. He drew ever closer and extended his right hand, saying;

-Haven’t seen you around here before, Son. Just wanted to make you feel welcome.
I gulped.
-Thanks.

Nice man. I stayed till just about the end and managed to make a discrete exit during the breaking of the bread.

Turns out there’s a lot of nice people in Ames, Iowa. Spoke to a few of them at the Grove Café before the gig. Had a few Sociables after the show with some more kind folks at a pub manned by a grand helmsman named Henry. Cheryl and her friend Lindy who hosts the morning radio show in Ft. Dodge on Mix 94.5 were grand company for me and the rest of the GBS cast and crew.  Thanks to them all.

Just pulling in to the hotel in Kansas City. Spring seems to be well underway here.  Yellow grass giving way to eager green.

Lovely.

Cheers,
Alan

We made it through the obstacle course that is the first night of the tour. Last night in Kalamazoo, we played several songs that we have not performed in a decade or more. We also debuted three new tunes; Walk on the Moon, a song I wrote with my friend Gordie from Cape Breton a couple of years ago; Here we Go Again, a bouncy number about a cast that when assembled, can only result in one performance; Where I Belong, a song I wrote with my antipodean pal Russell about the constant emigration of Newfoundlanders to the distant shores of Canada. 

It always nerve-wracking performing new music, but there’s a first time for everything. I’m sure the songs will evolve a lot between now and when the final versions are recorded later this year. GBS plans to record the new CD over the course of 2007 to be released early in 2008. That’s the plan…at least.

Saw this amazing bass player in the pub next to the theatre last night. He was seriously laying it down with a funky jazz assembly. Quite amazing to discover after a moment or two that he was missing his right hand. Turns out, Bill Clements lost his arm and hand in a factory accident, but refused to stop playing bass. Very cool. Check him out by typing “One armed bass player” into You Tube. He is quite a player, no matter how many hands he has. 

Just came from lunch with Kris, Murray, and his pal Matt Bonner. Matt plays ball for the San Antonio Spurs. He met Murray while playing for the Raptors in Toronto a few seasons back. He was the tallest at the table. Cool chap. Very interesting to discover how the traveling life of pro athletes and pro musicians are similar in some respects and different in others. I suppose, in the end, we are all in the Entertainment Business. Though, something tells me the Spurs salary cap is a little higher than GBS’s.

Currently sitting in the bus on the back Parking Lot of the Casino here in Milwaukee. I don’t like wandering about Casinos. I confess that they depress and slightly disturb me. Not sure why…maybe it’s the long lines of lonely looking Senior Citizens blowing their life savings on the slots while chain smoking themselves into an early grave.

There is, however a full NHL package on the TV in the bus. Though, I figure we should probably watch a bit of the Spurs/Buck basketball game and cheer on our lunch mate.

Cheers,
Alan

I finished my Christmas shopping today…I think.

Just a quick note to say ‘Thanks’ to all hands for putting Courage and Patience and Grit on your Christmas Lists.  It’s been in the top 5 DVD sales for a few weeks now.

Thanks as well to everyone who jumped to buy the tickets for Great Big Christmas.  This year, its all for the kids as all proceeds go to the Janeway Hospital.  Should be a blast.

Stay tuned for that announcement of the dates around St. Patrick’s Day in the U.S. 

This is the time of year we all should sit back and count our blessings.  Mine are too great to count in one sitting.

Happy Season to you all.  Hope to see you soon in the New Year.

Cheers,

Alan

Currently enjoying a quiet Saturday; a rarity if you play in a band for a living.  The Prince is four months old today.  Trust me, time does fly.

I just wanted to let all hands know about a few things.  As I mentioned here a short while ago, I’ll be in Toronto in a few days for a fundraiser with a bunch of Newfoundland songwriters.  Between now and then I’ll be producing the new Irish Descendants CD at Great Big Studio in St. John’s.  Myself, Sean, Bob and Darrell played our first gig opening for the ID’s in 1993, so its a thrill to work with Con and the guys on their next project.  It’s due out early in the New Year.

Bob just finished working on the new Shanneygannock CD.  I’ve heard a bunch of the tunes and Bob did a grand job harnessing the lads’ energy and talents.  His playing is all over the CD as well.  Very cool.  The Shanney CD will be out in a few weeks.

Don’t forget Murray’s band, Great Atomic Power, and the gig at Hugh’s Room in Toronto on November 16th.

Myself and Sean entertained one another a few nights back.  The soundtrack for a portion of our soiree was Chris Trapper’s new CD.  Chris, as many of you know, was/is the lead singer of the Push Stars who opened for GBS on a number of US Tours.  We loved his songs so much that we recorded “Everything Shines” for the Road Rage CD and asked him to come to St. John’s to write with us for the “Sea of No Cares” CD.  Together, we wrote the title track, as well as “Clearest Indication” and a few others.

Chris’s new solo CD is grand.  It includes a song, “In from the Outside”, on which you can hear Sean, Bob, and I, singing and playing our hearts out.  Like all Chris’s tunes, it has wonderful lyrics and the most sing-able chorus.  What a pleasure to be asked to contribute to his music.  Check it out if you get a chance.  There just may be another tune for GBS to cover lurking somewhere amongst the tunes.

An early November wind scared the leaves from the trees on my little street in St. John’s. 

Love the Fall.

Cheers

Alan  

So it turns out that in all my previous visits to Portland, I had somehow managed to miss the most beautiful section of the city.  I’ve wandered the cool hilly streets of the harbour town for hours in the past and assumed I had the place covered.  So I was surprised and delighted yesterday to find myself strolling in the old port, roaming in and out of the shops in the preserved brick buildings.

We played the Merrill Auditorium which may be the most beautiful theatre I’ve ever seen.  After the show we went to an Irish Pub near the waterfront and had a grand night.

Tonight’s show is the last night of a short five day run.  I would not be surprised if the future held more tours like this as it is tough to leave home for three or four weeks at a time.

All hands are looking forward to the release of the new GBS DVD, Courage & Patience & Grit.  It hits the stores in November and features two full sets of music on DVD, an audio only CD, and four music videos.  Hope y’all like it.

An overnight drive to Montreal and we should be on the Rock by lunch time.

Thanks to everyone for coming out this week.

Cheers

Alan

Mom on the Road!  Yes, I picked up Mom at four am and we made our way to St. John’s Airport.  She confessed that she could not sleep as the excitement kept her awake all night.  It was not her first time on a plane as she’s flown a half dozen times before, but this her first time on a trip with the band.  

I used my AC Upgrade Certificates and got Mom her first jaunt in Business Class.  She asked if she had to pay for the tea and was thrilled to find out that she could have all she wanted for nothing.  

We dashed trough US Customs at Pearson Airport and made it just in time to catch our flight to Albany.  We boarded the Beechcraft 10-seater plane and I saw my Mom’s eyes bulge.  I had taken her from first class on one of Air Canada’s biggest planes to what I suspect is the smallest aircraft in the airline’s fleet.  We both settled in and enjoyed the rattle and hum, the swaying and bouncing of the chirper little flight across the border.

Mom’s sister Maude lives in Saratoga, near Albany and we surprised her with an early visit.  Aunt Maude is a grand gal who loves a song and a laugh and despite her decades away from the Rock has not lost her Newfoundland accent or attitude.

Quite a thrill to re-unite two sisters for the first time in a few years, I must say.

Last nights crowd did not fill the theatre but at 700 strong, was over triple the attendance of our last visit to Albany a few years back.  It was a bit of a feat of memory, but I think I remembered all the words.  The room was filled with enthusiastic singers, so I probably would have got away with a few more mistakes.

Grand review in the local paper to boot.

Not a bad start.

Cheers for now.

Alan

This Air Canada plane has those new groovy in seat personal interactive tv’s.  By manipulating the sleek touch screen display, you can choose between a variety of movies, TV channels, games, even a detailed moving map of the flight’s route.  It is definitely a grand way to pass the time on a long flight.  All around me, passengers are flicking through news items, choosing between current Hollywood favorites and classics, deciding to enjoy Friends or the Family Guy.

But not me.  My groovy in seat personal interactive tv is not working.

I have flown form St. John’s to Toronto a zillion times and never once had a GISPITV.  So why then, do I feel so gypped that I don’t have one now?  If my GISPITV were operating, this diary entry would not get done and my Bill Bryson book would go unread, but still I feel left out because I cannot watch the Davinci Code (despite the fact that I’ve already seen it and did not enjoy it).

This makes two diary entries that begin with a complaint.  Am I turning into a grumpy old man? 

On the bright side, it should be a fun night in London as the Western Fair has always been good to us.  The theatre in Thunder Bay has given us fine nights in the past. 

I confess that I have never been to Sioux Lookout.  I have no idea where it is and know nothing about the town what so ever. I don’t know anyone who’s been there or anyone who would hazard a guess about the place.  It’s quite refreshing to have absolutely no preconceived notion about a town that I’m about to see first hand.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Cheers
Alan

Currently on a West Jet flight from Calgary to Toronto in a dash to make it all the way home from Victoria in one day. We had an easy schedule planned on Air Canada that should have taken us from Victoria to Montreal and on to St. John's. Grand plan but, all the Air Canada planes were grounded due to a computer glitch. So, we jumped on a West Jet plane to Calgary and Toronto and hope to catch the late flight home tonight. Could be worse, I suppose.

I've pretty much developed a ‘Travel Zen'. I have somehow convinced myself to not be excited or upset about any aspect of airline travel. I've learned to expect the unexpected. I fully accept that so much of this is out of my hands, that to worry about arrival times, connecting flights, etc. is completely futile. Many would agree with my ‘zen' but few manage to adopt it. It is tough to remain optimistic and content in seat 58Q on a flight that is none hours late, but if you fly as often as I do, adopting an unbreakable pleasant demeanor is a self defense mechanism.

Had four fun gigs over the past days. The Malkin Bowl is beautiful. I spent less than twelve hours in Seattle and was on stage for two of those. At the Bumbershoot Festival we probably played to our biggest audience ever in Western USA. Victoria was blast as usual. Me, Sean, and Murray spent the wee hours in a Caribbean restaurant called Reef that served spicy Jamaican Tapas and frosty Red Stripes. Very civilized.

Sad news from Australia yesterday as the tragic death of the "Crocodile Hunter", Steve Irwin made its way around the world. I met him a few times while touring in Australia. He was as large a personality as I've ever come across. The impression that many in the public have of him, as a daring, crazy risk taker does not truly reflect the man he was. He was honestly driven to these close encounters with the wild animals out of a desire to educate himself and others about some of the most misunderstood creatures on earth.

I am drawn to those with a lust for life and I've not met a soul who made the most of a day like Steve Irwin. I've never met anyone who felt as blessed to have the opportunity to do exactly what he loved for a living. He loved his job and his passing is a terrible loss to the conservation community all around the world. He was a great friend to his friends, a great husband to his wife and a great Dad to his kids.

He will be sadly missed and fondly remembered. Cheers to Steve.

Back home for a few days before we dart to Saint John to sing a song at the CCMA show, then a few days in Western Ontario in the middle of September.

Another Summer's come and gone, but Fall can be so lovely.

Cheers

Alan

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

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

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

http://www.cbc.ca/hatching

They love to hear feedback in the summer months.

Here is the official press release.

July 10^th/2006

Hatching, Matching, & Dispatching Returns this Summer !!

Gemini award-winning Hatching, Matching & Dispatching Season 1 returns to CBC TV Tuesday, July 18^th/2006 @ 8:30 pm (9 pm NL).

Six weeks ... Six fabulous half hours...

The Furey family run a funeral parlour (Dispatch), ambulance service (Hatch), and wedding hall (Match) in the uproariously funny CBC comedy. Starring, created and produced by Mary Walsh Hatching, Matching & Dispatching follows the adventures of the Furey family and their daily dealings with the lovesick, the plain sick, the old, the infirm, the newborn, the automotively challenged, the bereaved, the heartbroken, the dead and the dead drunk.

The winner of the Get Hatched, Matched or Dispatched in Style contest will be announced during its summer season going to air July 18^th/2006. The lucky winner will receive $5,000 towards a funeral, wedding, or baby shower of their choice. Keep watching Hatching, Matching & Dispatching for the upcoming announcement.

Over 2,500,000 viewers in its first season !!!

Hatching, Matching & Dispatching is written by Mary Walsh with Ed Macdonald, and directed by Henry Sarwer-Foner and Stephen Reynolds. The series is co-produced by Insight Productions and 2M Innovative in association with CBC Television.

Summer Schedule 2006

Tuesday, July 18^th : 8:30 pm ( 9pm NL)

Tuesday, July 25^th : 8:30 pm ( 9pm NL)

Tuesday, August 1^st : 8:30 pm ( 9pm NL)

Tuesday, August 8^th : 8:30 pm ( 9pm NL)

Tuesday, August 15^th : 8:30 pm ( 9pm NL)

Tuesday, August 22^nd : 8:30 pm ( 9pm NL)

I think you'll really like it.

Cheers

Alan

We kicked off the Stampede last night as the mystery band at the big Nashville North Tent. I am always nervous about these mystery band gigs because they are often so over-hyped that the crowd invariably expects to see the Stones or Springsteen. I always fear that when the announcer screams, "Get ready for your exclusive night with...Great Big Sea!," that there will be more moans of disappointment than cheers of approval.

We fared pretty well last night. The crowd was great fun and the beer tent was well lubed by the time we hit the stage.

It was a very Mardi Gras-like vibe in the room as revelers raised glasses and offered beads for boobs. We even got flashed a few times; a rare event at GBS concerts. I think Tommy Lee and the Motley Crue dudes are more accustomed to such displays of appreciation. I confess that on the few occasions that lasses have ‘put it all out there' during GBS shows, that I've been struck with a serious ‘deer in the headlights' feeling. I am never sure what to do. It seems a bit lecherous to stare and scream "Oh Yeah, Shake ‘em". So I don't. Yet it seems rude to ignore such an offering. So I don't. I usually try to hide the fact that I'm surprised and I act all Rock Star cool and casually wink one eye and say ‘lovely'. Does this sound about right?

We dashed from the gig back to the hotel and snuck out a fire escape door onto a roof patio and drank a beer or two as the fireworks danced around the silhouetted high rise buildings of Downtown Calgary. It was just the five of us. We chatted and caught up on the happening of the real lives of the guys we share the stage with every night. Highlight of our stolen few moments was a toast for the newest member of the clan.

Born on the 4^th of July. Henry Thomas Doyle

I guess soon to be born wee ones' don't read tour schedules. I thought I had a great plan. Do a few gigs in early July and get home with plenty of time to spare for the arrival of the Prince. Henry had other ideas. He could not wait to get started. At around 2am he decided he was ready and at 2pm on the dot he kicked off what I hope is an amazing life.

I only got to see him for a few hours on Tuesday and Wednesday as I had to get on the plane yesterday morning to fly to Calgary. It was the hardest trip to the airport ever.

Henry and his star of a Mom are doing well and are at home with a team of helpers. Thanks for all he well wishes and donations to the Janeway Childrens Hospital in St John's. It means a lot.

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

Lucky Me.
Cheers,
Alan