Alan's From The Road : ftr2007

Tour Diary - December 16, 2007 - Home

Wed, 19 Dec 2007 16:21:00 GMT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was right.

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

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

We were asleep in 20 minutes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - December 1, 2007 - Home

Fri, 07 Dec 2007 18:51:00 GMT

Well, how was that for a serious weekend?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not a lie. Technically speaking.

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

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

“All media behind the barricade!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We did it!!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More about the rest of the weekend later.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - November 19, 2007 - Home

Tue, 20 Nov 2007 17:18:00 GMT

My Laptop is fixed!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Check it out. You won’t be disappointed.

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

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - September 19, 2007 - Europe Part III

Wed, 26 Sep 2007 14:43:00 GMT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whew. Grand run through a few European countries.

Home for a rest.

Cheers,
Alan

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

Thu, 06 Sep 2007 17:51:00 GMT

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

Could be worser.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More later.

Cheers,
Alan

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

Fri, 31 Aug 2007 16:25:00 GMT

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

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

Enough whining.

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

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

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

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

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

Edinburgh is spectacular.

More later.

Cheers,
Alan

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

Tue, 14 Aug 2007 19:22:00 GMT

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

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

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

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

Gotta love having Bob on the bus.

Who needs Google?

Off to stroll amongst the trees. Lovely day.

Cheers,
Alan

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

Thu, 09 Aug 2007 20:40:00 GMT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here’s a photo from the gig.

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

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

Cheers,
Alan

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

Wed, 01 Aug 2007 15:11:00 GMT

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Summer.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - July 27, 2007 - On the Bus, Fort McMurray, AB

Wed, 01 Aug 2007 15:05:00 GMT

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

Tour Diary - June 18, 2007 - Home

Tue, 19 Jun 2007 14:18:00 GMT

Hey All,

Just thought I’d keep all hands up to speed on the recent happenings in the GBS Camp.

Bob, Sean, and I just finished another round of demos for the new CD(s). Kris and Murray were in St. John’s for the first round a few weeks back and we hope to have at least one more session before the Summer touring begins in late July. The plan is to have a couple dozen songs ready to record in September/October with hopes of the top tunes making the cut for a release in early 2008. Some tunes that you may have heard in concert, like Straight to Hell and Walk on the Moon remain intact following close inspection under the microscope of the studio. Others have changed in part or in full, so you may have to learn a new chorus or two to sing along at future shows.

A few weeks back we three, along with gals and pals, had a group birthday dinner at a new restaurant called Atlantica. It is located in the Beach House B&B in Portugal Cove, about 15 minutes drive from Downtown St. John’s. Kory, the owner, built the place literally hanging over the Atlantic Ocean as the Dining Room sits on reclaimed land on the beach. The many large windows give a dandy view of the water, icebergs, whales, and the charming going and coming of the Bell Island Ferry. One of the nicest places to sit in the country, for sure. Jeremy, the chef, is a well traveled local who I met at a GBS show in Chicago a few years back when he was employed as a private chef by someone rich enough to afford a private chef. The food is world class. The service is just as good. We had a grand night there and were the last to leave before they turned out the lights.

‘Southern Shore’, the new Irish Descendants CD was released a few weeks ago. I produced the CD at GB Studio with Con and the lads. It features mostly traditional songs from Newfoundland and Ireland as well as a song that Con and I wrote about cutting out cod tongues as boys, and a fun cover of Jim Fiddler’s song ‘Downtown Girl’ that has Sean, Bob, and I singing a verse or two. Check it out if you get a chance.

Once again, I have triumphed over my counterparts in the GBS Playoff Hockey Pool. Two years in a row, the Doyle Team has crushed the opposition. The other participants (also known as ‘losers’) of the Pool made a donation at Daffodil Place in lieu of bowing to the champ.

I am pleased to announce that the leaves on the Beech Tree outside my office window have multiplied to the point that many of my neighbours’ backyards are no longer visible to me as I sit and type at the computer. My nosy spying is annually hindered around this time and for this, I am delighted as it can only mean that Summer has finally come.

Everything is gonna be alright.
Hope all is well wherever you are.

See you on the road in July.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - May 14, 2007 - Cabin, Rural Newfoundland

Wed, 16 May 2007 19:51:00 GMT

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

Tour Diary - April 19, 2007 – On the Bus, Pittsburgh, PA

Thu, 19 Apr 2007 22:04:00 GMT

Much in the news about the shootings at Virginia Tech, as there should be. Truth be told, we were about an hour away from the whole incident as it happened as we sat on the bus in Norfolk. Pictures of the shooter on every paper, every website. Take away the guns and headlines and he could be just another normal college kid. What drives a soul to this madness? Is this the product of a desperate upbringing, a dysfunctional home life, a feeling of exclusion and isolation? Is there any combination of these factors that could claim an ounce of the responsibility for this, or is this an act so wicked that it can only be caused by the warped justice of this evil mind? I don’t know.

There was a letter in the newspaper yesterday; I think it was USA Today, from a gentleman with a proposed solution. More guns. Basically his point is that it is high time we all carry weapons; ‘we should give responsible people the opportunity to defend themselves’. This letter was from a reasonable sounding person, who actually believes the situation at Virginia Tech would have been safer if all the students carried hand guns.

Wow.

When I am King, this guy will be politely asked to leave through the Castle Gates. I am growing less tolerant of the Right in North America. As passive as I am, opinions like the above must be met head on. Easy and ready access to guns is a Cancer that must be cured.

Looking for weapons of mass destruction, Mr. Bush, Mr. Harper? Try looking in a dorm room at Virginia Tech.

Pittsburgh tonight.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - April 18, 2007 – On the Bus, Charlotte, NC

Wed, 18 Apr 2007 20:56:00 GMT

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

Tour Diary - April 12, 2007 - On the Bus, Boston, MA

Thu, 12 Apr 2007 16:45:00 GMT

We played for pretty much a sold out show last night in Portsmouth. Not often you get to do that on your first run through a town. It’s usually a much slower build.

I recall our first gig in Ottawa, Ontario, where we recently broke the 10,000 tickets barrier for the first time. Our debut was not so well attended. We played the Newfoundland Pub on Montreal Road for about 35 people, 25 of which were cousins or friends of ours.

Tonight we play the Orpheum in Boston. Effectively this is the premier concert theatre in the city. It is a long way from our first visit to the Boston area when we played a wee Irish pub in Quincy for about eight people. My friend Connie, from Petty Harbour, brought six of them. From the pub in Quincy to the Orpheum in Boston, and it only took a decade of about twenty-five shows to do it.

Let’s hope slow and steady wins the race.

For those of you in the Toronto area, you might consider checking out a great piece of theatre this week. ‘Tempting Providence’, a play about a missionary nurse on the pioneering west coast of Newfoundland, plays at the Factory Theatre till the 22nd of April. It is about rural Newfoundland but it could be about India or South Africa or Australia, or any where in the colonies the British Empire sent doctors and nurses.

It is a clever four person show that uses only a table and cloth for a set. It may very well be the best play I’ve ever seen.

GBS at the Orpheum tonight. Finally.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - April 11, 2007 - On the Bus, Portsmouth, NH

Wed, 11 Apr 2007 16:52:00 GMT

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

Tour Diary - March 25, 2007 - US Airways Flight - Seat 22C

Mon, 26 Mar 2007 16:32:00 GMT

We finished with a couple of good houses in Columbus and Indianapolis. Good for morale, going into this break before the next run in a couple of weeks. These past ten days were really bout two things; getting better acquainted with some cities in the Midwest and providing ourselves with the opportunity to workshop and experiment with new music in front of a real crowd.

For the most part, I felt like the new tunes were well received. Those who attended multiple shows may have been confused if they tried to sing along as we regularly changed sections of songs to see which option felt best. Kudos to those who tried to get the “1,2,3,4” shouts in the new tune tentatively titled “Hold on for your Life”. I hope that tune becomes a grand addition to the live show.

I find myself writing a lot these days with the GBS show, and not the CD or album in mind. Is that a problem, I wonder? Am I limiting myself by giving in to the temptation to write a concert and not a record? Not sure. The two set show does allow for such a wide variety of tempo and style that I am starting to believe that anything goes. Hmm. We’ll see.

In any case, I’m very grateful to those who filled the seats over these last couple of weeks. Hope you enjoyed hearing some of the really old and really new GBS tunes.

Time to gather the clan and head for the Rock.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - March 23, 2007 – On the Bus, Columbus, OH

Fri, 23 Mar 2007 18:43:00 GMT

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

Tour Diary - March 21, 2007 - On the Bus, St.Louis, MI

Wed, 21 Mar 2007 21:42:00 GMT

We are breaking new ground today, just as we did in Whitehorse way back when this tour began. I am sitting on the bus behind the theatre on the University of Missouri in St. Louis. All around me there are open green spaces divided by concrete walkways, and parking lots surrounding large brownstone and buildings. In other words, I’m on a University Campus. I could be in Antigonish, Nova Scotia, Bristol, England, or St. Louis, Missouri. There is nothing in my immediate view plane that suggests I am in anyplace new.

So, I have a mission. I must find some way to get to the famous Gateway Arch before the bus rolls to the next destination. I know it is a touristy idea, but I hate the feeling that some new experience is just around the corner, and I can’t get to it.

It puts me in mind of the many conversations I’ve had with people in the Northern half of the US who’ve never been to Canada. In particular, those folks that live within a few hours drive of the Quebec border, and have never bothered to nip up for a look.

I spoke at length one evening with a fairly worldly lady in Burlington, Vermont, who explained that she had never thought to go to Montreal or Quebec City. I protested out loud wondering how any upright human could help themselves from exploring a place with unique and fascinating history, language, culture, cuisine, art, architecture, and music, that was less than half a days drive away from their own front step! Growing up on an isolated Island must have embedded in me some odd sense of curiosity about all foreign people and places, and it amazes, and even slightly offends me, when others don’t share the same wonder.

Must find the Arch.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - March 19, 2007 - On the Bus, Kansas City, MO

Mon, 19 Mar 2007 17:25:00 GMT

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

Tour Diary - March 17, 2007 - Highway to Minneapolis, MI

Mon, 19 Mar 2007 14:43:00 GMT

Rocked the house in Chicago last night.

We debuted another new tune, Straight to Hell, a song I wrote in about ten minutes one day at the cabin in Rural Newfoundland. I was listening to a blues dude on CBC radio and we were singing one of the million tunes about the famous Johnson story of selling your soul to the devil in exchange for the gift of maestro guitar playing. All of those tunes tell the tale of the depressed walking damned whining his way through life waiting for Satan to collect his debt. I figure that if you sold your eternal soul in exchange for a mortal life of Rock and Roll, you should frigging well live it up and get the most out of it before the horned dude comes calling.

It was cold in Chicago yesterday. I needed a hat. I wandered into a store and the only one in there that fit was this:

Funny thing about wearing a hat with SECURITY written on it. It turns out, that’s all the credentials you need to go almost anywhere. I was walking past a theatre, just down the street from the Riviera where GBS played. The theatre was surrounded by tour buses and high school aged fans waiting to catch a glimpse of someone famous to them. Apparently, the event was a big multi-band traveling show headlined by 30 Seconds to Mars. As I strolled by one bus, with my SECURITY hat pulled down over my ears to protect them from the chilly wind, a tour manager (they all tend to look alike) stepped from the bus and grabbed my arm.

-Hey man. Can you help me get Billy?(not sure) to the Stage Door?
-Sure.

So this fella steps from the bus with his hoodie up over his head and the biggest pair of shades hiding most of his face. He takes my arm and I lead him down a path between the curious onlookers to the Stage Door. He turns to me as he enters and makes a fist. I assume he wants to do one of those knuckles to knuckles baseball handshakes, so I make a fist as well. I was almost right. He did one of those fist stacked on top of fist shakes and says just before disappearing into the theatre;

-Thanks man, you’re the best.
-No sweat.

The Tour Manager turns to me and asks me where to find catering and I quite honestly say in as thick a Petty Harbour accent as I can muster:

-Dunno, b’ye. I’m not working here. I’m playing down the street. Have a good one.

He was about to lambaste me when he remembered that the whole thing was his idea. He looked embarrassed and grinned;

-Have a good one, yourself.

Maybe I should get a hat that says Police Officer or Surgeon General and see where that gets me.
Happy Paddy’s Day.

Cheers,
Alan

Tour Diary - March 15, 2007 – On the Bus, Milwaukee, WI

Thu, 15 Mar 2007 20:25:00 GMT

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

Tour Diary - March 12, 2007 - Air North Flight 505, Whitehorse-Vancouver

Wed, 14 Mar 2007 15:41:00 GMT

Happy Birthday, Great Big Sea.

On March 11, 1993 myself, Darrell, Sean, and Bob, played onstage together for the first time. It was a glorious night of nervous energy at the premier concert facility at Memorial University, The Thomson Student Center. We opened for the Irish Descendants, then the biggest band in the Province.

So, yesterday, March 11, 2007, was our 14th birthday. Here’s how we spent it.

Months ago, we had been asked to play for the Volunteers Party at the close of the Canada Games in Whitehorse, Yukon. For those of you not familiar with Whitehorse, just grab a globe. You know how you usually spin it horizontally to find your destination? Well to find Whitehorse, you need to spin it the other way; vertically. Look up…way up. It’s a long ways from, well everywhere.

So we spent most of March 10th flying from all over the place to meet in Calgary to board a West Jet Charter to Whitehorse. Most of the guys flew from St. John’s to Toronto, Calgary and Whitehorse. I had been on a sunny respite in the Bahamas, so I flew from Freeport to Whitehorse in one day. 29 to -29 Degrees Celsius in 12 hours. I found it quite chilly.

Turns out, Whitehorse is a beautiful Northern Outpost town. It has that cool Western kind of Deadwood vibe with Saloon lined streets and hearty, healthy people with a real survivalist charm. On the snow and ice covered streets, you could almost discern;

-I’m not cold. You find it cold?

-Nah, its quite warm actually.

-Yeah, its like a dry -106C, quite manageable.

I love it.

The townsfolk are still buzzing from having hosted the Canada Games. An event, by all accounts, that is usually reserved for much bigger cities. It seems like all hands fared well in the Northern Hamlet and the games were a huge success, thanks to the legions of Volunteers. We were glad to get a chance to congratulate them.

So, here we are, another year older and about to start yet another tour. We must really like this gig. This tour will feature the very old and the very new. We are hoping to play four or five songs per night that we have not performed in over a decade. We also have ambitious plans to play the same number of brand new GBS tunes, all slated for the next GBS CD to be recorded just before and just after this summer. High hopes.

Good to be back.

Cheers,

Alan