The wanderlust that drives many a musician into the world often wanes as careers rise and fall. While I hate the tedium of airports and such as much as anyone, my enthusiasm for going somewhere different has never waned. My favourite time on any tour bus is the early morning, before anyone else is up, when I can just sit by the wide windows and watch the world change in front of me. And even thought their lifestyle is probably pretty grim, there is a part of me that envies the Travelers of the British Isles, and the French Gitane, with their caravans, ponies, and delight in the open road. I am lucky that I found a way to make a living and indulge in a piece of that fantasy, while still avoiding many of its hardships. One day I will write a song that captures this paradox. In the meantime, others have already done so.
As Irish songs go, Sullivan’s John is a bit obscure. I heard it somewhere back in my pub days, and liked it enough to learn all the words. Fortunately, I never ruined it by playing the song with a band, so it has remained a personal favourite. Ostensibly, the song’s narrator is warning the eponymous John against running off with a tinker (an Irish Traveler) girl, and and taking up the life of the road.
Oh Sullivan's John, to the road you've gone
far away from your native home.
You've gone with the tinker's daughter,
for along the road to roam.
Oh Sullivan's John, you won't stick it long,
'til your belly will soon get slack.
Up along the old road, with a mighty load.
and your toolbox on your back.
The only recording of the song I have, by the 60’s ballad band Sweeney’s Men, perfectly captures the song’s irony. While the narrator’s warning is quite dire, the song’s tone is anything but. The rather cheery melody undermines any dour threats. Instead of foreboding, the narrator just ends up sounding envious, as if he too would like to take off down the road with a beautiful tinker (girl or boy). And on a dull, grey day, when the office or the cares of the world are closing in on you, who wouldn’t?
Fly By Night, by Can-Con heroes Chiliwack is a very, very different song, but I think it’s creative impulse comes from the same place. Led by the golden voice of Bill Henderson, Chilliwack were a 1970’s Canadian band that managed to take advantage of the new Canadian content regulations of that era. Aimed at getting more Canadian music on the airwaves, the Can-Con laws created a domestic music industry overnight. A wave of bands poured across the country in the wake of that sea change, and Chillwack were one of the best.
The song is supposed to be an extended riff about the experience of taking an overnight airplane flight, but it feels a lot more like a driving song. The guitars rumble along in perfect Chuck Berry fashion, creating as evocative a representation of the turn of the wheel as I have ever heard. More than half the song consists of a unique vocal hook, layer after layer of Henderson’s high, perfect voice, keening like a siren in harmony with himself. You cannot hear it but find an echo of the prairie wind, blowing through the telephone wires that parallel the highway in those wide-open places. Finally, the song both begins and ends with a perfect quatrain:
Four men in a rock and roll band,
Fly at night, in the morning we land
Fly at night ‘til we’re satisfied…
See the morning from the other side…
Words to stir the heart of the vagabond.en in a roll bandFly at night in the morning we land
Fly at night 'til we're satisfied