For those of you who don't know, Gander is not an outport. It is an Airport. Founded 50 years ago, the city has proven to be a strategic boon to NATO and her Allies. The biggest landing strip in North America during World War 2, Gander celebrated it's birthday last nite in a style that can only be described as high altitude......Jet fuel.
McCann left St. John's with a heavy foot and was afforded a speeding ticket for his impatience. I hitched a ride on the back of a Honda Shadow 750 piloted by a tall blond beagle enthusiast. We took our time.
Arrived on the scene just in time to hear veteran Ron Hynes, the finest songwriter Newfoundland has ever produced. Paul Kinsman on Keys and Boomer Stamp on Kit.....classic. Upstarts Hey Rosetta followed with a colourful set of barely controlled intensity. Hawksley was right. Tim Baker is genius....and a right good ball handler (I meant soccer).
Rex Goudie followed and did indeed live up to his salacious reputation. Still don't know if he can sing or not and I don't care. I just want to hold him.
I started to get a little apprehensive for the lads when I saw McCann crack his second bottle of Veuve Cliquot while sat across a picnic table from hard rock Novaks drummer Elliot spouting shite like only a young man wannabe can. Smoke dangling from thirsty lips and jaded look in malevolent eye. I only hope the poor youngfella isn't scarred for life.
Many new songs flew from uncertain fingers: Hard Case, England, Dream to Live and Gallows Pole. Ambitious. As always, MacDaddyfarlane managed to hold it all together in the end. Sober. Solid......
and so sexy.
The aftershow got rather stumbly around midnite. Future Pulitzer winner Justin Brake will have much fodder for his tell all novel. We can only hope he didn't have a camera.
Sincere thanx to the kind people of Gander for inviting us Townies to their birthday party. Lax leash laws and ample poop picker bags make for a happy town.
Ruff. Ruff.
Tosh