The Gary US Bonds gig went pretty well, I think. At least people were complimentary afterwards. So that's good.
Arrived for the soundcheck at Lee's Palace at the appointed 6 p.m. time. Never got a proper soundcheck, of course. They were still setting up and soundchecking Gary's stuff. So we went out the back door to the alleyway where we could hear ourselves and run through the set. This was important, as our drummer, Bones, hadn't played or rehearsed with us before and didn't know most of the songs. He brought his brushes out with him and banged on a piece of paper on top of an old garbage bin. We ran through the songs with particular emphasis on where the stops and starts were. Kenny, the harp player from Jay Clark & The Jones was also with us.
It was a nice moment, actually; this rag-tag band of old and new friends sitting around on the sun-baked concrete, amid the graffiti in the alley behind the club, in the warmth of the early evening, bashing out the songs. Think Bruce and Miami Steve and the boys might have done that a few times in the early days? I think so. There was a nice feeling of scruffy, ad hoc camaraderie and common purpose.
Gary's band had quite a bit of equipment on the stage. It's not that large a stage to begin with, and they had a tri-levelled keyboard array and a full drum kit. The guy who was setting up the "backline" for Lee's was quite helpful in getting us set up. He suggested that Bones and Colleen, our bass player, might actually be able to use Gary's band's drum kit and bass amp rig, thus avoiding a lot of hassle. The Bonds' band was okay with that, so that's what we did.
My little Traynor practice amp wasn't gonna cut it for this show, and I don't like the way it sounds anyway, so I had to use a loaner. Fortunately, a roommate of Boag's is a gigging musician, and he let me use his little bass amp, which sounded fine. I had just picked up a Boss Blues Driver overdrive pedal, so I didn't need an amp that provided overdrive.
It was also the first gig with my new guitar. Actually the same model as my old guitar -- an Epiphone "Dot" -- except my new one is a limited edition model, and it's a beautiful dark brown with gold hardware. Sort of looks like this (its older brother, the Gibson ES-335), only it's a darker shade and there's no pickguard. It's beautiful. Under certain light it actually looks burgundy. I liked my other guitar, but I love this one. The neck feels great; the frets are smoother and bevelled nicely at the edges, so my hand slides up and down the neck as smooth as buttah. I got it used at Songbird Music. It's four years old. It feels great, sounds great, but best of all -- it's brown! I've always wanted a brown guitar.
The other thing was, we didn't have a name! We ended up being billed alternately as Boag, "Guests" and "More". We'd been tossing a few names around, led by the hotly contested Dick Ellis Revival, The Lastmen, and a few others -- but no decision had been made in time to get it published.
So, the unnamed band took to the stage at 8 p.m. and launched into our set. The set list was as follows:
The Fever
Something You Got - an old R&B song Springsteen does on a mid-'70s bootleg tape of Boag's; I've since discovered versions by Them, Wilson Pickett and B.B. King
(Walk And) Don't Look Back - The Tosh version; my debut on wah-wah pedal
Fast Train - Written by Van the Man for that Solomon Burke CD
It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry
Tupelo Honey
Your Cheatin' Heart
Red-Headed Woman
Men Without Women - A rockin' Little Steven song based on a Hemingway story
Shine A Light - Rolling Stones
As it turned out, and as we had expected, we had to drop a few numbers due to time limits. We ended up passing on, I think, "Your Cheatin' Heart" and "Tupelo Honey". Just as well, since I wasn't really comfortable with any solo I had worked out for "Your Cheatin' Heart". Just couldn't get a handle on it for some reason. Sorry Hank.
I had the little bass amp set up to my left, at the side of the stage, tilted upwards towards me. Tim and Kenny were on the far side and Colleen was tucked away between the drum kit and the mountain of keyboards behind me. The amps were miked, but the sound guy decided not to run our guitars through the monitors, so we had to use our amps as monitors. Learned later that neither Bones nor Boag could hear the guitars very well. I could hear Tim, but Boag was getting mostly just a lot of himself in the monitors, which he isn't used to, and I guess it was making it hard for him to hear the guitars. Considering the sound problems, and the fact that it was Bones's first time playing drums with us and playing these songs, and Colleen had only one rehearsal under her belt (sans drummer), it's not surprising that things felt a bit tentative on stage. There were a few missteps: Boag forgot a part of "The Fever" but recovered okay, and I know I played a few completely incorrect chords and stumbled a little on a few other things. But overall, it went okay. Kenny and Colleen were great.
As I said, people were complimentary afterwards, including the club's booker, who, according to Boag, was genuinely pleased and said he would book us again, and Gary US Bonds, who said from the stage: "I liked that first band. What were they called?" I started laughing. Tim's girlfriend yelled out "Boag!". Gary said: "Vogue?" I yelled out "Dick Ellis Revival", but it didn't make an impact.
As for Bonds' set, it was very good! He's got a kick-ass band, with the requisite Jersey honkin' sax man, a keyboardist, a kid rhythm section, a solid guitarist and the pair of Laurie Andersons (wife and daughter) on back-up vocals. They did "Jole Blon" (an old Cajun song that Bruce also covered), Bruce's "Rendezvous" and "This Little Girl Is Mine", and his hits "New Orleans" and "Quarter To Three", as well as Otis Reddings' "I've Got Dreams To Remember" and "You Are My Sunshine" as a tribute to Brother Ray. They did a great version of a Delbert McClinton song called "Everytime I Roll The Dice". The "Lauries" were smokin the "woo-woos" on that one. There was one unfortunate Casino-rama moment though, when one of the encores consisted of a medley of old rock 'n' roll hits -- Chuck Berry-Little Richard-Elvis, etc. But Bonds is still in great voice, and certainly doesn't look his age.
We hung out afterwards and chatted a bit with Gary. Nice man. He was in party mode for sure. And the guy who was the lead singer of the Kingsmen was there -- yes, the guy who sang "Louie Louie". He was in the audience. Apparently they're old friends. Don't know if he lives around Toronto or Southern Ontario, or if he drove up from Buffalo, or what. Kind of odd.
Anyway, one more gig under my belt. I think this was #10. And I walked away with my first pay as a musician -- $20! Good thing we didn't bring a horn section. Of course, I wasn't doing it for the money, but it's cool that I can now officially call myself a professional musician!
On the down side, I think I'm coming down with something. Been developing a deep-chest cough over the past few days and today I'm getting aches and chills. Thankfully, it held off until after the gig, but we'll see if I make it to the first night of ball hockey tomorrow night.
Sunday, September 19, 2004
Saturday, September 18, 2004
Rehearsal
Had our third rehearsal tonight, first one with Colleen on bass and back-up vocals. Went pretty well, except I still need to work on some of my solos. I was winging it a little too much for my liking. It's good not to be too "scripted" in one's playing, but I need to at least have a good idea of what I could play as a solo in a given song section. I don't have enough knowledge of the neck or of scales to completely wing it, unless I'm dealing with a basic blues structure or something, so it's best for me to work out what I would ideally play, and use that as a guidepost, so to speak. In other words, I may not keep going down the same streets, but I need to have a fairly solid awareness of the neighbourhood I'm in, if that makes sense. I need to map something out for "Your Cheating Heart" especially (btw, happy birthday Hank!). I'll do that tonight or tomorrow morning.
Colleen is a pro, and fit in very well. Picked up her parts with no problem. I suspect she was a little uneasy with the fact that we're still not as tight with some of the songs as we should be, although she didn't say anything. She's probably used to being a lot tighter with the material she does with the John Borra Band. But she was given a list of 10-12 songs to learn in the space of about five days, so kudos to her in any event.
Plus, we didn't have a drummer on hand, which is a further string left hanging--one day before the gig. Boag finally scared one up today (he had been waiting to hear back from some other guys, who, it turned out, were unavailable), but the new recruit wasn't able to make it tonight. It's a buddy of his from his Kingston days, who apparently has vast amounts of experience and should have no problem, provided we get time to run through a few things tomorrow, perhaps at sound check.
I think we'll be okay though. Having a steady drummer will give us all something to feed off and help provide some glue to keep everything together. Most of the songs are pretty straightforward, so I don't foresee any great catastrophe. I'm sure if we go astray somehow, or forget how to end a song, we'll feel our way through it and improvise something.
I'll also have to get an amp tomorrow, whether a rental or a loaner from a roommate of Boag's. Mine just won't cut it. I've been looking around for a new one anyway, so maybe if I rent one, I'll try to get one that I'm interested in buying, such as the Fender Blues Jr. Only 15 watts, which is plenty of power for a home practice amp, but it's also apparently very good for gigging--projects a lot louder than it should. And it's got that warm tube tone.
Best be getting on with it. The gig abides.
Colleen is a pro, and fit in very well. Picked up her parts with no problem. I suspect she was a little uneasy with the fact that we're still not as tight with some of the songs as we should be, although she didn't say anything. She's probably used to being a lot tighter with the material she does with the John Borra Band. But she was given a list of 10-12 songs to learn in the space of about five days, so kudos to her in any event.
Plus, we didn't have a drummer on hand, which is a further string left hanging--one day before the gig. Boag finally scared one up today (he had been waiting to hear back from some other guys, who, it turned out, were unavailable), but the new recruit wasn't able to make it tonight. It's a buddy of his from his Kingston days, who apparently has vast amounts of experience and should have no problem, provided we get time to run through a few things tomorrow, perhaps at sound check.
I think we'll be okay though. Having a steady drummer will give us all something to feed off and help provide some glue to keep everything together. Most of the songs are pretty straightforward, so I don't foresee any great catastrophe. I'm sure if we go astray somehow, or forget how to end a song, we'll feel our way through it and improvise something.
I'll also have to get an amp tomorrow, whether a rental or a loaner from a roommate of Boag's. Mine just won't cut it. I've been looking around for a new one anyway, so maybe if I rent one, I'll try to get one that I'm interested in buying, such as the Fender Blues Jr. Only 15 watts, which is plenty of power for a home practice amp, but it's also apparently very good for gigging--projects a lot louder than it should. And it's got that warm tube tone.
Best be getting on with it. The gig abides.
Re-Hearse-al
File under You Know Something's Not Right When...
Dane Squires didn't realize there was any problem until he read his own obituary in the newspaper, his brother said. Then he called his sister's house to let her know he was alive, and found out his funeral was underway.
Dane Squires didn't realize there was any problem until he read his own obituary in the newspaper, his brother said. Then he called his sister's house to let her know he was alive, and found out his funeral was underway.
Monday, September 13, 2004
Bond-ing
By next Saturday night, I will have walked in the shoes of The Beatles...
... as an opening act for Gary US Bonds!
Yes, the Fabs opened for the Jersey shore party rock king when he toured Europe in 1963, and they were mere pre-Fabs. I was probably a mere embryo then. But I've waited for my turn in the sun, and now it's here. 40 years later. Another step in my embryonic musical adventure.
We found out on Friday that we'll be opening for Mr. Bonds at Lee's Palace next Saturday night. It's an early show; our set is at 7:45 till about 8:30. By "we" I mean the same core of musical affiliates who brought you the St. Paddy's Day Massacree, and the much-improved and well-received Fever On Queen Street Shuffle. Boag on vocals and hustle, Tim and me on guitar. And Boag has apparently secured the services of the lovely and talented Colleen Hodgson (John Borra Band), who is an excellent bass player and a fine singer. He's still trying to get a drummer (Don Kerr is touring in Europe or somewhere with Ron Sexsmith) and also possibly a harp or sax player.
Not sure what it is with these Jersey rock and roll stalwarts coming through town lately (we almost ended up opening for Southside Johnny a few weeks back, but that didn't come together). But Mr. Bonds has a new album out called "Back In Twenty", see cuz it's been 20 years since his last album. But, judging from the samples on his website, he's still in good voice. Springsteen appears on the disc, as does Southside Johnny, Dickey Betts and Phoebe Snow. And I'm sure he's got a kick-ass band. His back-up singers are his wife and daughter, both named Laurie Anderson (well, actually one is Laurie Anderson, Jr.), but not that Laurie Anderson.
You may remember Gary US Bonds from such early-60s hits as "New Orleans", "Quarter To Three" or maybe from the Springsteen-penned 80s revival number "This Little Girl Is Mine". He was a big influence on all those Jersey guys such as Bruce, Little Steven and Southside Johnny.
So Boag and Tim and I had out first rehearsal Sunday at Tim's place. Went through about 10 or 12 songs that we wanted to do. Of course, seeing as we only have a week, we'll also revive "The Fever", "Red-Headed Woman" and "Tupelo Honey" from our previous gigs. And most of the other songs are fairly straightforward, so hopefully we won't need to worry about wearing down the batteries on the Fuck-Up Meter. It's a pretty important gig, actually, especially seeing as we don't even play any originals, and we certainly want to make the best of it and not make the bookers regret their choice. So wish us luck, and if you're in the locale, come on by and cheer us on.
... as an opening act for Gary US Bonds!
Yes, the Fabs opened for the Jersey shore party rock king when he toured Europe in 1963, and they were mere pre-Fabs. I was probably a mere embryo then. But I've waited for my turn in the sun, and now it's here. 40 years later. Another step in my embryonic musical adventure.
We found out on Friday that we'll be opening for Mr. Bonds at Lee's Palace next Saturday night. It's an early show; our set is at 7:45 till about 8:30. By "we" I mean the same core of musical affiliates who brought you the St. Paddy's Day Massacree, and the much-improved and well-received Fever On Queen Street Shuffle. Boag on vocals and hustle, Tim and me on guitar. And Boag has apparently secured the services of the lovely and talented Colleen Hodgson (John Borra Band), who is an excellent bass player and a fine singer. He's still trying to get a drummer (Don Kerr is touring in Europe or somewhere with Ron Sexsmith) and also possibly a harp or sax player.
Not sure what it is with these Jersey rock and roll stalwarts coming through town lately (we almost ended up opening for Southside Johnny a few weeks back, but that didn't come together). But Mr. Bonds has a new album out called "Back In Twenty", see cuz it's been 20 years since his last album. But, judging from the samples on his website, he's still in good voice. Springsteen appears on the disc, as does Southside Johnny, Dickey Betts and Phoebe Snow. And I'm sure he's got a kick-ass band. His back-up singers are his wife and daughter, both named Laurie Anderson (well, actually one is Laurie Anderson, Jr.), but not that Laurie Anderson.
You may remember Gary US Bonds from such early-60s hits as "New Orleans", "Quarter To Three" or maybe from the Springsteen-penned 80s revival number "This Little Girl Is Mine". He was a big influence on all those Jersey guys such as Bruce, Little Steven and Southside Johnny.
So Boag and Tim and I had out first rehearsal Sunday at Tim's place. Went through about 10 or 12 songs that we wanted to do. Of course, seeing as we only have a week, we'll also revive "The Fever", "Red-Headed Woman" and "Tupelo Honey" from our previous gigs. And most of the other songs are fairly straightforward, so hopefully we won't need to worry about wearing down the batteries on the Fuck-Up Meter. It's a pretty important gig, actually, especially seeing as we don't even play any originals, and we certainly want to make the best of it and not make the bookers regret their choice. So wish us luck, and if you're in the locale, come on by and cheer us on.
Friday, September 10, 2004
Your Friday Yuk
I don't usually do this, but I was so proud of the joke I made at work yesterday, I just had to share.
We were in a layout meeting for one of the magazine cycles we're currently working on (typically there are three in production: one in mid-production, one just starting, and one being put to bed).
Dramatis Personae:
The Copywriter (Me)
Director of Creative Services (My Boss)
The Repertoire Manager
The Marketing Manager
A couple of our graphic artists
The purpose of the meeting was mostly to present the design and layout of various magazine sections so that Marketing and Repertoire (A&R) can approve them, or give feedback on changes. Other issues are usually discussed as well. For instance, on this day there was some question about one of the features (which I am in the throes of writing). It was to be a coupled feature, offering a CD selection with a related DVD selection, typically a soundtrack and a DVD of the film. The A&R Manager was asking the Marketing Manager if she had decided whether we would go with the "Passion Of The Christ" feature or the "Lord Of The Rings" feature.
A&R Manager: "So, Anita (Marketing), what's the story with the "Passion Of The Christ" feature?
Me (in stage whisper); "He dies in the end. ... Well, sorta."
After the hearty guffaws subsided, tears wiped from eyes and ribs taped up, it was decided that we would be going with the "Passion Of The Christ" coupling. At which point I still had one more in me...
"So, I guess that would be a cross-promotion?"
Thank-you! G'nite! Drive carefully and don't forget to tip your waitstaff!
We were in a layout meeting for one of the magazine cycles we're currently working on (typically there are three in production: one in mid-production, one just starting, and one being put to bed).
Dramatis Personae:
The Copywriter (Me)
Director of Creative Services (My Boss)
The Repertoire Manager
The Marketing Manager
A couple of our graphic artists
The purpose of the meeting was mostly to present the design and layout of various magazine sections so that Marketing and Repertoire (A&R) can approve them, or give feedback on changes. Other issues are usually discussed as well. For instance, on this day there was some question about one of the features (which I am in the throes of writing). It was to be a coupled feature, offering a CD selection with a related DVD selection, typically a soundtrack and a DVD of the film. The A&R Manager was asking the Marketing Manager if she had decided whether we would go with the "Passion Of The Christ" feature or the "Lord Of The Rings" feature.
A&R Manager: "So, Anita (Marketing), what's the story with the "Passion Of The Christ" feature?
Me (in stage whisper); "He dies in the end. ... Well, sorta."
After the hearty guffaws subsided, tears wiped from eyes and ribs taped up, it was decided that we would be going with the "Passion Of The Christ" coupling. At which point I still had one more in me...
"So, I guess that would be a cross-promotion?"
Thank-you! G'nite! Drive carefully and don't forget to tip your waitstaff!
Sunday, September 05, 2004
The Other Soul Train
I finally went to see "Festival Express" last night. A film that in 1970 asked the question: what do you get when you put Janis Joplin, The Band, The Grateful Dead, The Flying Burrito Brothers, The Buddy Guy Band, Ian and Sylvia Tyson and others on their very own private CN passenger train with unlimited booze and drugs and send them from Toronto to Calgary with stops along the way to play concerts? Answer: A very good film documenting a very crazy train ride across the Canadian landscape. Metaphor for the sixties? Sure, why not.
I remember reading about this legendary train ride in a Rolling Stone anthology years ago. The film footage had been lost for 30 years, only found recently by the son of the filmmaker or the promoter or somebody, when he was cleaning out his garage, and then it got entangled in legal quagmires. They've done an incredible job restoring the film. It's great to see some of the train jams/parties. There's a scene where an icredibly wasted Rick Danko is trying to lead Janis Joplin, Jerry Garcia and Rob Weir through "Ain't No More Cain". I think Rick's working from a different cosmic metronome there. I'd love to see the footage that didn't make it into the film. Maybe when the DVD comes out.
The concert footage is wonderful. Joplin in particular. It's striking just how powerful she is here. Her performance of "Cry Baby" is just so emotionally potent. It's the power of her singing, the way she throws her entire being into it, but also the sadness at her core--and you see it. You feel it. She just lays it all out, spills it all out right there on the stage. This is my life. I'm a rock and roll mama, superstar, but I can't keep hold of one good man. They just keep leavin'. They just keep breakin' my heart, man.
A mere three months later, she would be dead. Don't anyone try to tell me booze and drugs killed Janis Joplin.
What's also sad is when you do a "split screen" of her performance side-by-side with most of today's popular music. I'd like to think that a singer with that kind of power would be a star in any era, but I wonder if Janis would even be on the radar in today's music industry where female singers don't get signed unless they look like Faith Hill or Jessica Simpson. I'd like to think that if she came along today, she'd break through. Wouldn't she? Please tell me it's so.
Imagine turning Janis loose on the "American Idol" scene! Ha!
There was a boomer-aged couple who had brought their two kids, about nine or ten years old, to see the film. I wasn't sure if that was wise, with all the booze and drugs and craziness in the film, but if those kids left the theatre thinking "okay, so that's what music should be like. Like being whalloped with a 2x4 soaked in heart and soul", then it was a successful history lesson.
You can read more about the film here.
View some trailers here (clicking will open a Windows Media file) and here.
As Janis said, "Next time you throw a train, invite me."
I remember reading about this legendary train ride in a Rolling Stone anthology years ago. The film footage had been lost for 30 years, only found recently by the son of the filmmaker or the promoter or somebody, when he was cleaning out his garage, and then it got entangled in legal quagmires. They've done an incredible job restoring the film. It's great to see some of the train jams/parties. There's a scene where an icredibly wasted Rick Danko is trying to lead Janis Joplin, Jerry Garcia and Rob Weir through "Ain't No More Cain". I think Rick's working from a different cosmic metronome there. I'd love to see the footage that didn't make it into the film. Maybe when the DVD comes out.
The concert footage is wonderful. Joplin in particular. It's striking just how powerful she is here. Her performance of "Cry Baby" is just so emotionally potent. It's the power of her singing, the way she throws her entire being into it, but also the sadness at her core--and you see it. You feel it. She just lays it all out, spills it all out right there on the stage. This is my life. I'm a rock and roll mama, superstar, but I can't keep hold of one good man. They just keep leavin'. They just keep breakin' my heart, man.
A mere three months later, she would be dead. Don't anyone try to tell me booze and drugs killed Janis Joplin.
What's also sad is when you do a "split screen" of her performance side-by-side with most of today's popular music. I'd like to think that a singer with that kind of power would be a star in any era, but I wonder if Janis would even be on the radar in today's music industry where female singers don't get signed unless they look like Faith Hill or Jessica Simpson. I'd like to think that if she came along today, she'd break through. Wouldn't she? Please tell me it's so.
Imagine turning Janis loose on the "American Idol" scene! Ha!
There was a boomer-aged couple who had brought their two kids, about nine or ten years old, to see the film. I wasn't sure if that was wise, with all the booze and drugs and craziness in the film, but if those kids left the theatre thinking "okay, so that's what music should be like. Like being whalloped with a 2x4 soaked in heart and soul", then it was a successful history lesson.
You can read more about the film here.
View some trailers here (clicking will open a Windows Media file) and here.
As Janis said, "Next time you throw a train, invite me."
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Play It Again Mr. Roberts
Sam Roberts will be appearing on Conan O'Brien tonight, apparently performing the kick-ass song "Don't Walk Away Eileen".
Tune in!
Tune in!
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
An App A Day
Downloaded a very cool -- and free! -- Mac app called Imagewell.
Minimum Mac OS X 10.2.8 needed.
From their webpage:
ImageWell is the easy way to edit, rotate, crop, and resize your image and upload it to your iDisk (.mac account), FTP server, or WebDAV server. No need to launch multiple applications to add text, labels, thought clouds, talking balloons, drop shadows, watermarks and shapes. At the click of a button, the image is sent and a handy URL is copied to the clipboard.
Very useful for posting pictures and images to my FTP site for Blog use.
Download from the developer's webpage link above, or Download.com.
Minimum Mac OS X 10.2.8 needed.
From their webpage:
ImageWell is the easy way to edit, rotate, crop, and resize your image and upload it to your iDisk (.mac account), FTP server, or WebDAV server. No need to launch multiple applications to add text, labels, thought clouds, talking balloons, drop shadows, watermarks and shapes. At the click of a button, the image is sent and a handy URL is copied to the clipboard.
Very useful for posting pictures and images to my FTP site for Blog use.
Download from the developer's webpage link above, or Download.com.
Monday, August 30, 2004
Let The Bells Ring Out
... COWbells that is!
Y'know, as I think of it, I may have posted that link once before. But no matter. You can never have too much cowbell!
"I got a fever, and the only prescription is more cowbell!"
Y'know, as I think of it, I may have posted that link once before. But no matter. You can never have too much cowbell!
"I got a fever, and the only prescription is more cowbell!"
Saturday, August 28, 2004
How Sweet It Was
There are some things you just can't pass up. For years I'd been telling myself that I have to go see Emmylou Harris play live. Is there a more immediately identifiable voice in the world? Well, maybe a few, but none as beautiful or as awe-inspiring. And I've also been dying to see Gillian Welch since I first started listening to her records a few years ago. I was bummed that the Bluesfest got canceled this summer, because for me, she was the primary attraction. So when I saw tickets were going on sale for the Sweet Harmony Traveling Revue, with both Emmylou and Gillian, I wasn't about to miss it. Musical manna from heaven.
I took Thursday and Friday off, rounded up my friends Heather and Greg, who were also jazzed about the show, and went down to my old stomping grounds, Detroit/Windsor, to catch the tour stop at the Meadowbrook music festival. We stayed at my friend Janet's place in Windsor, and she also came to the show.
The show was everything I had hoped it would be and more. Meadowbrook is an outdoor amphitheatre on the grounds of Oakland University in Rochester, MI, about 45 minutes on the other side of Detroit. As a venue, it's smaller and cozier than most outdoor sheds. It has kind of a folky vibe to it. We had seats under the canopy, so we were okay in case it rained, but that was not going to be a concern. It was a beautifully warm night, just perfect for this kind of concert.
Tickets said the show was at 7:30, so we figured we'd be okay getting there sometime between then and 8:00. We arrived at about 7:50, and Emmylou was already onstage! As we walked from the parking field to our seats we could hear her singing "To Know Him Is To Love Him", with at least one other female voice, which was probably Patty Griffin, although it's possible Gillian was in there as well (The sound was a bit muffled at that distance and over the lip of a hill). I heard her say something like "How are you Detroit?", so I assumed this must have been her first song of the evening, second at best.
I stopped just long enough to visit the mensroom and to pick up a $7 jug of beer (that's about $12 CDN - you can almost buy a 12-pack for that!) As I got to the seats, Emmylou was just finishing the marvelous Daniel Lanois song "Blackhawk". What a thrill to hear that voice live in front of me for the first time! She encapsulates everything that's right about beautiful singing: strength, nuance, delicacy, emotion, reserve, poise, abandon, tradition, individuality... Just so beautiful.
I may be forgetting a few songs from her mini-set, but I know she also did "Orphan Girl", joined by Miss Gillian of course, and I'm pretty sure she also did "My Antonia". And there's another thrill: seeing Emmylou and Gillian Welch singing together. Man, how do you top that?
I was soon to find out.
But that was the template for the Revue. Each of the main artists would do a mini-set, often joined by the others in various configurations. It was very fluid.
I'm not sure of the exact order of things, but I think Buddy Miller's set followed Emmylou's. I don't know his stuff very well, but I was quite impressed with his voice. Very distinctive. The highlight of his set came when he was joined by Gillian and David Rawlings for a few numbers, with Rawlings on electric guitar and Gillian on bass!. They were rocking out and having a good ol' time! Great stuff.
It's almost pointless to talk about highlights, there were so many wonderful moments. At some point the stage lights came down, while Emmylou, Gillian and Patty Griffin gathered around one mic under a lone, overhead spotlight to sing the a cappella gem from the "O Brother" soundtrack, "Didn't Leave Nobody But The Baby". Absolutely spellbinding.
Patty Griffin's mini-set was next, I think. I've only heard a few of her songs, and only recently. She possesses a marvelous voice. For me, the highlight of her set was her haunting, solo rendition of Springsteen's "Stolen Car" and her closing number, "Mary", which she wrote for her grandmother. For this one, Emmylou and Gillian stood unassumingly on either side and a few feet back of Patty, like any old back-up singers. Their three voices closed out the song, lifting up the grandmother's name -- homage, veneration, benediction.
Gillian Welch's and David Rawlings' set was simply amazing. They started with "I Wanna Play That Rock And Roll", then into "Elvis Presley Blues". We were remarking afterwards how well their voices blend together. There were times when I thought Rawlings' mic may have been off, but when I listened closer, there he was, just blending in as if there were one voice. Gillian broke out the banjo for a few songs, and I think they did "I Had A Real Good Mother", "No One Knows My Name" and "One Little Song", although I may be imagining one of these, possibly heard it in the car on the way over to the show. They also did another song that I didn't recognize; maybe a song from Soul Journey that I'm not so familiar with.
Another thing I had been looking forward to was bearing witness to David Rawlings' guitar playing. This man is an amazing guitarist. There's something about his playing, as if he's almost colouring outside the lines, but not quite. Sort of like what Marc Ribot is to avant pop/jazz, David Rawlings is to roots moderne. He's not in charge of his playing; he just lets it come through and follows where it leads him. It plays him. The last song of their set was "Revelator", and it was just incredible. I think I have bruises on my chin from where my jaw hit the floor during some of his solos.
I think they closed out the main set with an ensemble rendition of "I'll Fly Away". For the first encore, again with the whole ensemble, David Rawlings strapped on a 12-string Rickenbacker, and following a plea from Emmylou that everyone get registered to vote, they launched into a note-perfect intro to the Byrds' version of "Turn Turn Turn". That was followed by what was probably the best rendition of "The Weight" that I had ever heard in person.
They left the stage to another standing ovation (there had been several throughout the evening). I noticed the guitar tech removing one of Emmylou's guitars, and replacing it with her big jumbo Gibson acoustic, so I knew there would be another encore. And something about the way he placed that guitar on its stand at the front of the stage facing Emmylou's mic stand made me think...Gram Parsons. There was just something reverential and near-iconic about the way the roadie placed that guitar on the stage.
They came back out, and Emmylou mentioned that even though it had been such a fun and wonderful experience traveling and playing with these other artists, and how grateful she was to them for doing it, none of it would have been possible for her if it hadn't been for Gram Parsons. Then they closed the book on the evening with Parsons' prayer "In My Hour Of Darkness".
An incredible evening of beautiful music.
I took Thursday and Friday off, rounded up my friends Heather and Greg, who were also jazzed about the show, and went down to my old stomping grounds, Detroit/Windsor, to catch the tour stop at the Meadowbrook music festival. We stayed at my friend Janet's place in Windsor, and she also came to the show.
The show was everything I had hoped it would be and more. Meadowbrook is an outdoor amphitheatre on the grounds of Oakland University in Rochester, MI, about 45 minutes on the other side of Detroit. As a venue, it's smaller and cozier than most outdoor sheds. It has kind of a folky vibe to it. We had seats under the canopy, so we were okay in case it rained, but that was not going to be a concern. It was a beautifully warm night, just perfect for this kind of concert.
Tickets said the show was at 7:30, so we figured we'd be okay getting there sometime between then and 8:00. We arrived at about 7:50, and Emmylou was already onstage! As we walked from the parking field to our seats we could hear her singing "To Know Him Is To Love Him", with at least one other female voice, which was probably Patty Griffin, although it's possible Gillian was in there as well (The sound was a bit muffled at that distance and over the lip of a hill). I heard her say something like "How are you Detroit?", so I assumed this must have been her first song of the evening, second at best.
I stopped just long enough to visit the mensroom and to pick up a $7 jug of beer (that's about $12 CDN - you can almost buy a 12-pack for that!) As I got to the seats, Emmylou was just finishing the marvelous Daniel Lanois song "Blackhawk". What a thrill to hear that voice live in front of me for the first time! She encapsulates everything that's right about beautiful singing: strength, nuance, delicacy, emotion, reserve, poise, abandon, tradition, individuality... Just so beautiful.
I may be forgetting a few songs from her mini-set, but I know she also did "Orphan Girl", joined by Miss Gillian of course, and I'm pretty sure she also did "My Antonia". And there's another thrill: seeing Emmylou and Gillian Welch singing together. Man, how do you top that?
I was soon to find out.
But that was the template for the Revue. Each of the main artists would do a mini-set, often joined by the others in various configurations. It was very fluid.
I'm not sure of the exact order of things, but I think Buddy Miller's set followed Emmylou's. I don't know his stuff very well, but I was quite impressed with his voice. Very distinctive. The highlight of his set came when he was joined by Gillian and David Rawlings for a few numbers, with Rawlings on electric guitar and Gillian on bass!. They were rocking out and having a good ol' time! Great stuff.
It's almost pointless to talk about highlights, there were so many wonderful moments. At some point the stage lights came down, while Emmylou, Gillian and Patty Griffin gathered around one mic under a lone, overhead spotlight to sing the a cappella gem from the "O Brother" soundtrack, "Didn't Leave Nobody But The Baby". Absolutely spellbinding.
Patty Griffin's mini-set was next, I think. I've only heard a few of her songs, and only recently. She possesses a marvelous voice. For me, the highlight of her set was her haunting, solo rendition of Springsteen's "Stolen Car" and her closing number, "Mary", which she wrote for her grandmother. For this one, Emmylou and Gillian stood unassumingly on either side and a few feet back of Patty, like any old back-up singers. Their three voices closed out the song, lifting up the grandmother's name -- homage, veneration, benediction.
Gillian Welch's and David Rawlings' set was simply amazing. They started with "I Wanna Play That Rock And Roll", then into "Elvis Presley Blues". We were remarking afterwards how well their voices blend together. There were times when I thought Rawlings' mic may have been off, but when I listened closer, there he was, just blending in as if there were one voice. Gillian broke out the banjo for a few songs, and I think they did "I Had A Real Good Mother", "No One Knows My Name" and "One Little Song", although I may be imagining one of these, possibly heard it in the car on the way over to the show. They also did another song that I didn't recognize; maybe a song from Soul Journey that I'm not so familiar with.
Another thing I had been looking forward to was bearing witness to David Rawlings' guitar playing. This man is an amazing guitarist. There's something about his playing, as if he's almost colouring outside the lines, but not quite. Sort of like what Marc Ribot is to avant pop/jazz, David Rawlings is to roots moderne. He's not in charge of his playing; he just lets it come through and follows where it leads him. It plays him. The last song of their set was "Revelator", and it was just incredible. I think I have bruises on my chin from where my jaw hit the floor during some of his solos.
I think they closed out the main set with an ensemble rendition of "I'll Fly Away". For the first encore, again with the whole ensemble, David Rawlings strapped on a 12-string Rickenbacker, and following a plea from Emmylou that everyone get registered to vote, they launched into a note-perfect intro to the Byrds' version of "Turn Turn Turn". That was followed by what was probably the best rendition of "The Weight" that I had ever heard in person.
They left the stage to another standing ovation (there had been several throughout the evening). I noticed the guitar tech removing one of Emmylou's guitars, and replacing it with her big jumbo Gibson acoustic, so I knew there would be another encore. And something about the way he placed that guitar on its stand at the front of the stage facing Emmylou's mic stand made me think...Gram Parsons. There was just something reverential and near-iconic about the way the roadie placed that guitar on the stage.
They came back out, and Emmylou mentioned that even though it had been such a fun and wonderful experience traveling and playing with these other artists, and how grateful she was to them for doing it, none of it would have been possible for her if it hadn't been for Gram Parsons. Then they closed the book on the evening with Parsons' prayer "In My Hour Of Darkness".
An incredible evening of beautiful music.
Sunday, August 22, 2004
Can-do, Can-did, Got The T-Shirt
I'm kinda tardy with this post... again, my deepest apologies.
Two weekends ago I attended the big Sloan/Sam Roberts co-headlining festival over on the Toronto Islands. It was an all-Canadian bill that also included Broken Social Scene, The Constantines, Buck 65, The Stills, Pilate and Death From Above. By all accounts it was a huge success, notable because this summer saw the cancelation of at least two other festivals: Lollapalooza and The Toronto Blues Festival.
I think Eye magazine hit the nail on the head with this story about the festival.
It was a great day. Started out kind of overcast, but as the day went on it cleared up and warmed up. Olympic Island is a very cool place for a show like that. Lots of green space, trees, places to wander off and escape the crowd if you want to, and a great view of the downtown skyline.
Crowd behaviour at these things is always fascinating. Observing real, live flesh-and-blood interaction between masses of people and pop music and pop culture--at the moment of spontaneous(?) consumption--is rife with all kinds of interesting paradoxes and revelations. For instance, there was the moment in Sam Roberts' set when he was performing "Brother Down", and the crowd picks up the refrain (with a little urging from Sam). People have their arms raised, fists in the air, voices jubilently belting it out...
"I think my life is passing me by"
um, yee haw.
And then of course there's Sam's other big sing-along moment in "The Canadian Dream"--part manifesto, part spelling bee...
"S-O-C-I-A,
L-I-S-M is here to stay!"
Gee, suddenly we're standing in the middle of thousands of real live socialists! Who knew? Up to that point they had appeared to be a bunch of students and young urban and suburban 20- and 30-somethings. And me not even partaking in the jubilent celebration of my fellow travellers, even though I was wearing my DJ Guevara t-shirt! (Note the Mao vinyl!)
...speaking of which...
When I was at the concert, I went to get a beer and as I was coming back from the serving area, this guy runs up to me and stops me, saying that his friend is doing a project on Che Guevara, and would I mind if he took a picture of my shirt for the project. I said, sure. So I go over and meet the guy, and he explains that he's a professor at Ryerson University, and his project (which sounded like part research project, part art project) involves investigating uses of Che images; talking to kids--university students, mostly--about why they're wearing the Che t-shirt, what it means to them, etc. A lot of these kids, of course, don't even know much about Che Guevara, other than that it's a cool image, I would guess on a par to them with Jim Morrison, John Lennon or Kurt Cobain. A cool icon. Projection of some kind of fuzzy rebelliousness.
So I was certainly willing to let him take a few snaps of me and my shirt, especially since mine represents a different...spin, shall we say...on the appropriation of the image. He asked me where I had found the t-shirt, and I told him that I had bought it in a little boardwalk store near Cavendish, P.E.I. when I was home visiting a few summers ago. The guy who initially approached me then says that he's from the East Coast, too. Antigonish, N.S. Says he wouldn't have guessed I was an Islander because he didn't hear an accent in my voice. I explain that we moved to the Moncton, N.B. area when I was 13, and I probably lost some of it as a result, plus living in Ontario for the past 14 years likely took care of the rest. He says, "No kidding! I lived in the Moncton area, too. Riverview." I say, "That's where I lived. Went to Riverview High. Class of '81". He says, "I was Class of '83!".
I say, "What's your name"?
"Patrick Decoste."
"Pat Decoste! I know you! ... I think... do I?"
Turns out it was his brother Mark who I knew from high school. He and his then-girlfriend-then-wife-then-ex-wife Sue Ellen (long story) were in several classes with me. And my friend Dan had dated their sister for a short time. But Pat and I had a few common friends, and we spent a few minutes working out the connections.
Too funny.
Che Guevara. Uniting people around the world.
Two weekends ago I attended the big Sloan/Sam Roberts co-headlining festival over on the Toronto Islands. It was an all-Canadian bill that also included Broken Social Scene, The Constantines, Buck 65, The Stills, Pilate and Death From Above. By all accounts it was a huge success, notable because this summer saw the cancelation of at least two other festivals: Lollapalooza and The Toronto Blues Festival.
I think Eye magazine hit the nail on the head with this story about the festival.
It was a great day. Started out kind of overcast, but as the day went on it cleared up and warmed up. Olympic Island is a very cool place for a show like that. Lots of green space, trees, places to wander off and escape the crowd if you want to, and a great view of the downtown skyline.
Crowd behaviour at these things is always fascinating. Observing real, live flesh-and-blood interaction between masses of people and pop music and pop culture--at the moment of spontaneous(?) consumption--is rife with all kinds of interesting paradoxes and revelations. For instance, there was the moment in Sam Roberts' set when he was performing "Brother Down", and the crowd picks up the refrain (with a little urging from Sam). People have their arms raised, fists in the air, voices jubilently belting it out...
"I think my life is passing me by"
um, yee haw.
And then of course there's Sam's other big sing-along moment in "The Canadian Dream"--part manifesto, part spelling bee...
"S-O-C-I-A,
L-I-S-M is here to stay!"
Gee, suddenly we're standing in the middle of thousands of real live socialists! Who knew? Up to that point they had appeared to be a bunch of students and young urban and suburban 20- and 30-somethings. And me not even partaking in the jubilent celebration of my fellow travellers, even though I was wearing my DJ Guevara t-shirt! (Note the Mao vinyl!)
...speaking of which...
When I was at the concert, I went to get a beer and as I was coming back from the serving area, this guy runs up to me and stops me, saying that his friend is doing a project on Che Guevara, and would I mind if he took a picture of my shirt for the project. I said, sure. So I go over and meet the guy, and he explains that he's a professor at Ryerson University, and his project (which sounded like part research project, part art project) involves investigating uses of Che images; talking to kids--university students, mostly--about why they're wearing the Che t-shirt, what it means to them, etc. A lot of these kids, of course, don't even know much about Che Guevara, other than that it's a cool image, I would guess on a par to them with Jim Morrison, John Lennon or Kurt Cobain. A cool icon. Projection of some kind of fuzzy rebelliousness.
So I was certainly willing to let him take a few snaps of me and my shirt, especially since mine represents a different...spin, shall we say...on the appropriation of the image. He asked me where I had found the t-shirt, and I told him that I had bought it in a little boardwalk store near Cavendish, P.E.I. when I was home visiting a few summers ago. The guy who initially approached me then says that he's from the East Coast, too. Antigonish, N.S. Says he wouldn't have guessed I was an Islander because he didn't hear an accent in my voice. I explain that we moved to the Moncton, N.B. area when I was 13, and I probably lost some of it as a result, plus living in Ontario for the past 14 years likely took care of the rest. He says, "No kidding! I lived in the Moncton area, too. Riverview." I say, "That's where I lived. Went to Riverview High. Class of '81". He says, "I was Class of '83!".
I say, "What's your name"?
"Patrick Decoste."
"Pat Decoste! I know you! ... I think... do I?"
Turns out it was his brother Mark who I knew from high school. He and his then-girlfriend-then-wife-then-ex-wife Sue Ellen (long story) were in several classes with me. And my friend Dan had dated their sister for a short time. But Pat and I had a few common friends, and we spent a few minutes working out the connections.
Too funny.
Che Guevara. Uniting people around the world.
Sunday, August 15, 2004
Sunday Papers
For your reading pleasure: My article on Emm Gryner from two years ago.
I didn't realize it was available online until a few days ago when I came across it on her website. Enjoy!
I didn't realize it was available online until a few days ago when I came across it on her website. Enjoy!
Saturday, August 14, 2004
Serenstrippity
Sometimes the right piece of furniture just falls into your lap...so to speak.
Somehow I doubt this coffee table has seen much coffee. More like a tea table...as in T(ea) & A!
Somehow I doubt this coffee table has seen much coffee. More like a tea table...as in T(ea) & A!
Friday, August 13, 2004
Fables Of The Reconstruction
Bless me bloggers, for I have sinned. It's been over a week since my last blog entry.
Sorry, but I've been either too busy or too pooped to peep. But I am happy to report that my CD storage unit did finally arrive on Monday. For some reason it came through Greyhound delivery, not UPS. Maybe that explains why everything went okay.
No shoes were harmed in the completion of this transaction.
Speaking of the wayward shoes, they finally left the building--yesterday! I saw the mailroom guy, Chris, as he was on his deliveries around the office (he bears a striking resemblence to SuperMario, even has an Italian accent), and when he saw me he said "The shoes are gone! It's over! It's finally over!"
Anyway, so I put the CD thing together over two nights. Last night I opened up all the boxes containing my CD collection. Wasn't really sure how to proceed, seeing as I had packed the CDs rather haphazardly; just grabbed clusters and put them in whichever box they fit, although I did try to keep artists together. So my Beatles, Stones, Neil Young, Dylan, Costello collections, for instance, were pretty much intact. I wasn't exactly sure how much of the rack the CDs would occupy, and how much room there'd be for DVDs and VHS tapes, so I just decided to throw everything on the shelves to see how much room there was. It all fit fine, but now, aside from the aforementioned artists, it's all pretty mixed up.
That's tonight's task. Arrange my CD collection into some semblence of order. Now, I'm one of those people who order their CDs quite meticulously. Within Artist, CDs are arranged chronologically going from earliest albums to latest albums, left to right. The major artists and favourites get prominent billing on the top shelves--so Beatles, Neil Young, Stones, Dylan, Costello, etc. Those are also my largest collections, so it's good to have them prominently displayed. I also try to group artists for whom I have fewer CDs by genre or association. Power pop, country, classic rock, jazz, reggae/world music, blues, soundtracks, etc. Then there's usually a shelf or two of Canadian indie artists, maybe female artists. Ah, but there I hit a snag and encounter ethical quandaries.
First of all, is it sexist of me to group female artists together? Shouldn't they simply go with whatever genre they belong to? Perhaps. But there are times when I want to hear a female voice, and when that's the case, I'll know where to look. And besides, isn't there something distinctly female about the way Kate Bush or Jane Siberry or even Patti Smith present themselves through their music? Something that is more than a mere genre? And what genre is Kate Bush exactly?
On the other hand, I have no problem putting Lucinda Willams and Emmylou Harris on the country/alt-country shelf. They can take care of themselves. But what about a group like Starling? Do they go on the Canadian indie shelf, or in with power-poppers like Big Star? And what about Badfinger? Classic rock? Power pop? Maybe they should be orbiting the Beatles shelf somehow?
Maybe I'm suffering from too much shelf-consciousness?
It's a tough chore though. Since 80% of the CDs are all mixed up across the shelves, how do I approach reconciling this CD diaspora? The only way I can figure, is to go through CD by CD, shelf by shelf and start shepherding them into the spaces where they belong. It's "Oh, there's a Tom Waits! That goes over here with the others. Jazz compilation! Let's put that in this stack on the floor. Lemonheads! That goes on the power pop shelf..." I think I'll have to make numerous passes through it all, and each time it'll get a little more organized. Then I'll probably have to make some wholesale shelf swaps. Country gets swapped with classic rock/brit pop/radiohead/coldplay/travis, etc.
I also got Stella back from the shop today, all happy with a new set-up and a new set of flat-wound strings. I'm listening to Wings Over America as I arrange my CD collection. I wanted to hear some good bass playing, and Macca's playing throughout that album always hits the spot. It makes for good CD-collection-arranging music. Not too demanding on the ears or attention span, and enjoyable for the spirit. Wings was the first band I really got into when I was a teeny bopper. These days I wouldn't call Wings a guilty pleasure--more like an innocent pleasure.
All right, back at it! These CDs ain't a-gonna library-ize themselves.
Sorry, but I've been either too busy or too pooped to peep. But I am happy to report that my CD storage unit did finally arrive on Monday. For some reason it came through Greyhound delivery, not UPS. Maybe that explains why everything went okay.
No shoes were harmed in the completion of this transaction.
Speaking of the wayward shoes, they finally left the building--yesterday! I saw the mailroom guy, Chris, as he was on his deliveries around the office (he bears a striking resemblence to SuperMario, even has an Italian accent), and when he saw me he said "The shoes are gone! It's over! It's finally over!"
Anyway, so I put the CD thing together over two nights. Last night I opened up all the boxes containing my CD collection. Wasn't really sure how to proceed, seeing as I had packed the CDs rather haphazardly; just grabbed clusters and put them in whichever box they fit, although I did try to keep artists together. So my Beatles, Stones, Neil Young, Dylan, Costello collections, for instance, were pretty much intact. I wasn't exactly sure how much of the rack the CDs would occupy, and how much room there'd be for DVDs and VHS tapes, so I just decided to throw everything on the shelves to see how much room there was. It all fit fine, but now, aside from the aforementioned artists, it's all pretty mixed up.
That's tonight's task. Arrange my CD collection into some semblence of order. Now, I'm one of those people who order their CDs quite meticulously. Within Artist, CDs are arranged chronologically going from earliest albums to latest albums, left to right. The major artists and favourites get prominent billing on the top shelves--so Beatles, Neil Young, Stones, Dylan, Costello, etc. Those are also my largest collections, so it's good to have them prominently displayed. I also try to group artists for whom I have fewer CDs by genre or association. Power pop, country, classic rock, jazz, reggae/world music, blues, soundtracks, etc. Then there's usually a shelf or two of Canadian indie artists, maybe female artists. Ah, but there I hit a snag and encounter ethical quandaries.
First of all, is it sexist of me to group female artists together? Shouldn't they simply go with whatever genre they belong to? Perhaps. But there are times when I want to hear a female voice, and when that's the case, I'll know where to look. And besides, isn't there something distinctly female about the way Kate Bush or Jane Siberry or even Patti Smith present themselves through their music? Something that is more than a mere genre? And what genre is Kate Bush exactly?
On the other hand, I have no problem putting Lucinda Willams and Emmylou Harris on the country/alt-country shelf. They can take care of themselves. But what about a group like Starling? Do they go on the Canadian indie shelf, or in with power-poppers like Big Star? And what about Badfinger? Classic rock? Power pop? Maybe they should be orbiting the Beatles shelf somehow?
Maybe I'm suffering from too much shelf-consciousness?
It's a tough chore though. Since 80% of the CDs are all mixed up across the shelves, how do I approach reconciling this CD diaspora? The only way I can figure, is to go through CD by CD, shelf by shelf and start shepherding them into the spaces where they belong. It's "Oh, there's a Tom Waits! That goes over here with the others. Jazz compilation! Let's put that in this stack on the floor. Lemonheads! That goes on the power pop shelf..." I think I'll have to make numerous passes through it all, and each time it'll get a little more organized. Then I'll probably have to make some wholesale shelf swaps. Country gets swapped with classic rock/brit pop/radiohead/coldplay/travis, etc.
I also got Stella back from the shop today, all happy with a new set-up and a new set of flat-wound strings. I'm listening to Wings Over America as I arrange my CD collection. I wanted to hear some good bass playing, and Macca's playing throughout that album always hits the spot. It makes for good CD-collection-arranging music. Not too demanding on the ears or attention span, and enjoyable for the spirit. Wings was the first band I really got into when I was a teeny bopper. These days I wouldn't call Wings a guilty pleasure--more like an innocent pleasure.
All right, back at it! These CDs ain't a-gonna library-ize themselves.
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
These Shoes Were Meant For Rockin'
Well, the Wilco tickets finally arrived Tuesday morning at work. Whew. Typed instructions on a sticker on the UPS envelope clearly telling the driver to take it to reception, business hours 9-5. Naturally, it was delivered to the warehouse mailroom at the back of the building. I didn't get a chance to see the driver. I was curious to find out which was lower: the knuckles, the slack jaw or the IQ.
And then, just when I thought my long, irrational nightmare was over ... sometime just before high noon ... THE SHOES CAME BACK!
Yes, poor Tracey Kelly's (no relation) wayward shoes landed back in this absurd landscape for a second tour of duty.
I escorted them back down to the mailroom and explained The Mistake II. They said they'd get the UPS guy to take them back. But they wanted to make sure that I was "rejecting" the shoes. The poor shoes. Shunted around aimlessly, and now I have to provide the final indignity -- the coup de grace -- of stating my rejection of them. But I think they could take it. They were cork soles.
Half an hour later, the guy from the mailroom calls me and says that he was talking to the people at UPS, and he wasn't able to explain the situation to them properly because he didn't have all the information -- was this woman related to me? Did I know her? He says I should call UPS and explain it to them.
Fair enough. I call UPS and explain The Mistake III. They say they'll send someone round.
(Y'know, it seems a fairly simple situation. A rather uncomplicated scenario. To wit: "These shoes are not mine. They belong to someone else. They were sent to me by mistake. Please take them away." And yet... somehow I get the feeling I would have had a breezier time explaining quantum physics to a flock of pigeons.)
A little while later, our receptionist calls me, and asks if everything was straightened away, because the guy from UPS is here (seems he's finally found his way to the reception area). I say yes, it's all straightened away, I got my package. I assumed he knew that he was to pick up the box of shoes.
As I was leaving for the day, I passed by reception and the receptionist says, "So, it's all squared away?" And I say, shaking my head and shrugging, "Yes, it looks that way. He got the shoes, did he?" Her face drops. "What shoes?"
Guess Mr. UPS will have to make another return trip. Shame.
Oh... and the Wilco show?
It was great. Getting away from his addiction to pain-killers must have done Jeff Tweedy a world of good. I've never seen the man smile so much! While he's playing and singing! Maybe the migraines are gone too. (He's been tortured for years with severe migraines, which led to the pain-killer dependence.)
Very cool venue too. It was my first time seeing a show at The Mod Club, and it was a treat. Not too big, not too small. Not sure what's up with the whole Mod thing, but anything's better than 80s nostalgia.
The set consisted only of songs from the last two albums. The new members of the band fill out the sound nicely. Sort of like The Wilco Wall Of Sound. Tweedy played a Gibson SG for most of the songs that needed guitar wankery soloing, but I was pleased to see him bring out the lovely, cherry red Epiphone Casino with the Bigsby tailpiece for "Jesus, Etc." Beauty of a guitar.
In the encores, they reached back to Summerteeth for "Via Chicago" and "I'm The Man That Loves You", and came back a couple of times, ending the night with an absolutely gorgeous-as-velvet reading of "The Lonely 1" from Being There.
Maximum soul satisfaction.
And then, just when I thought my long, irrational nightmare was over ... sometime just before high noon ... THE SHOES CAME BACK!
Yes, poor Tracey Kelly's (no relation) wayward shoes landed back in this absurd landscape for a second tour of duty.
I escorted them back down to the mailroom and explained The Mistake II. They said they'd get the UPS guy to take them back. But they wanted to make sure that I was "rejecting" the shoes. The poor shoes. Shunted around aimlessly, and now I have to provide the final indignity -- the coup de grace -- of stating my rejection of them. But I think they could take it. They were cork soles.
Half an hour later, the guy from the mailroom calls me and says that he was talking to the people at UPS, and he wasn't able to explain the situation to them properly because he didn't have all the information -- was this woman related to me? Did I know her? He says I should call UPS and explain it to them.
Fair enough. I call UPS and explain The Mistake III. They say they'll send someone round.
(Y'know, it seems a fairly simple situation. A rather uncomplicated scenario. To wit: "These shoes are not mine. They belong to someone else. They were sent to me by mistake. Please take them away." And yet... somehow I get the feeling I would have had a breezier time explaining quantum physics to a flock of pigeons.)
A little while later, our receptionist calls me, and asks if everything was straightened away, because the guy from UPS is here (seems he's finally found his way to the reception area). I say yes, it's all straightened away, I got my package. I assumed he knew that he was to pick up the box of shoes.
As I was leaving for the day, I passed by reception and the receptionist says, "So, it's all squared away?" And I say, shaking my head and shrugging, "Yes, it looks that way. He got the shoes, did he?" Her face drops. "What shoes?"
Guess Mr. UPS will have to make another return trip. Shame.
Oh... and the Wilco show?
It was great. Getting away from his addiction to pain-killers must have done Jeff Tweedy a world of good. I've never seen the man smile so much! While he's playing and singing! Maybe the migraines are gone too. (He's been tortured for years with severe migraines, which led to the pain-killer dependence.)
Very cool venue too. It was my first time seeing a show at The Mod Club, and it was a treat. Not too big, not too small. Not sure what's up with the whole Mod thing, but anything's better than 80s nostalgia.
The set consisted only of songs from the last two albums. The new members of the band fill out the sound nicely. Sort of like The Wilco Wall Of Sound. Tweedy played a Gibson SG for most of the songs that needed guitar wankery soloing, but I was pleased to see him bring out the lovely, cherry red Epiphone Casino with the Bigsby tailpiece for "Jesus, Etc." Beauty of a guitar.
In the encores, they reached back to Summerteeth for "Via Chicago" and "I'm The Man That Loves You", and came back a couple of times, ending the night with an absolutely gorgeous-as-velvet reading of "The Lonely 1" from Being There.
Maximum soul satisfaction.
Monday, August 02, 2004
Quote of the Week
Just read this interview with Jeff Tweedy in advance of tomorrow night's show. I nominate this for Quote of the Week:
"The guitar became a big voice on the record. It felt right to give it things the lyrics weren't able to get out. I mean, that's why God invented the electric guitar, so you can say things that you can't say with your voice."
Amen Brother Tweedy.
"The guitar became a big voice on the record. It felt right to give it things the lyrics weren't able to get out. I mean, that's why God invented the electric guitar, so you can say things that you can't say with your voice."
Amen Brother Tweedy.
Sunday, August 01, 2004
More UPS And Downs
Follow-up from the previous blog entry: UPS did not come through on Friday. If I could've reached through the phone and strangled them, I would have.
I had received nothing from them by late morning, so I decided to call to see if I could find out if the tickets were at least on the truck. The customer rep person told me that the driver had been at my work address at 8:54 a.m. and had been unable to make the delivery. Something to do with "no such receiver" or something, whatever that means. I verified that they had the address right. Yup. The rep asked if there was any other businesses at this address. Nope. It's the only building at this address. Large building on the corner with a huge sign out front. Can't miss it. They said it appeared the driver had been there at 8:54 and had attempted to make the delivery, but couldn't, for some reason. This despite the fact I had told them the previous day that my business hours were 9-5. So the driver shows up at 8:54?
But it gets weirder. I went down to talk to our receptionist, and she said she had been there since 8:30, and hadn't seen any UPS person come in. I checked with the guys in the mailroom, at the back door of the building (even though, UPS always delivers to the receptionist at the front), and they had received nothing.
I called UPS yet again. I was not my usual pleasant self. I expressed my dissatisfaction in very strong terms. They said the driver was on his/her route and there was a chance of a return visit later in the day, but they couldn't guarantee it. The lady I talked to was apologetic, but said there wasn't much she could do. She again offered the option of having me pick up the tickets at their depot way the hell across god's creation. I not-so-politely declined, citing the aforementioned notion that when a person pays for DELIVERY of something, there should at least be some semblance of the concept involved at some point, not requiring the alleged receiver to spend hours on a hot city bus travelling to pick up the "delivery". She said if the driver doesn't attempt a return delivery, all that I could do was wait for Tuesday.
I used my favourite Disgruntled Consumer phrase: "This is completely unacceptable." It's worked for me in the past. Didn't seem to have much of an impact in this instance. The customer rep lady was sympathetic, in a customer rep kind of way, but said there wasn't much else that could be done. There were some prolonged silences on my end, just to let the dissatisfaction soak into the conversation. I told her that since UPS had made the mistake of delivering someone else's shoes to me instead of my tickets the previous day, it was incumbent upon them to try a little harder to fix their mistake. I told her I didn't think they were trying hard enough. She repeated that there wasn't anything she could do. I replied, "Well, I guess I'll just have to be DISsatisfied with that."
We're on summer hours at work, and can leave by 1 p.m. on Fridays. I had work to do that would have kept me there till about 3:00 or so, but I stuck around longer on the off-chance the UPS numbskull returned. I waited until 4:30, and then left. On the way out, I left a note at reception that if there's a UPS delivery for me, to call my extension or leave it at reception. Just trying to cover all the bases. I plan to be there early on Tuesday morning.
But that's not the only bad customer experience of the day. Oh no! You might remember from a previous post that I had ordered from an online store a CD wall unit for my apartment. Shipment was supposedly to occur within 7 to 10 days. I had put the order in two weeks ago. There was supposed to be an email notifying me when the shipment left the factory in Vancouver. I had received nothing from them. I called them last week around Tuesday, got a voice mail, left a message. Heard nothing from them. I called them again on Friday. They looked into the situation and told me that apparently my order had not been downloaded with the rest of the orders from that day. Sigh. I had to give them my credit card info again to get the order processed. So hopefully I'll have that delivered in a week or so.
But here's the kicker: Guess who's delivering it?
Yup. The lovely delivery experts at UPS.
Can't wait to see what shows up at my door this time. Maybe more shoes! Whatever it is, I'm gonna make sure I'm home on delivery day, and I'm holding it hostage until I get what I ordered.
I had received nothing from them by late morning, so I decided to call to see if I could find out if the tickets were at least on the truck. The customer rep person told me that the driver had been at my work address at 8:54 a.m. and had been unable to make the delivery. Something to do with "no such receiver" or something, whatever that means. I verified that they had the address right. Yup. The rep asked if there was any other businesses at this address. Nope. It's the only building at this address. Large building on the corner with a huge sign out front. Can't miss it. They said it appeared the driver had been there at 8:54 and had attempted to make the delivery, but couldn't, for some reason. This despite the fact I had told them the previous day that my business hours were 9-5. So the driver shows up at 8:54?
But it gets weirder. I went down to talk to our receptionist, and she said she had been there since 8:30, and hadn't seen any UPS person come in. I checked with the guys in the mailroom, at the back door of the building (even though, UPS always delivers to the receptionist at the front), and they had received nothing.
I called UPS yet again. I was not my usual pleasant self. I expressed my dissatisfaction in very strong terms. They said the driver was on his/her route and there was a chance of a return visit later in the day, but they couldn't guarantee it. The lady I talked to was apologetic, but said there wasn't much she could do. She again offered the option of having me pick up the tickets at their depot way the hell across god's creation. I not-so-politely declined, citing the aforementioned notion that when a person pays for DELIVERY of something, there should at least be some semblance of the concept involved at some point, not requiring the alleged receiver to spend hours on a hot city bus travelling to pick up the "delivery". She said if the driver doesn't attempt a return delivery, all that I could do was wait for Tuesday.
I used my favourite Disgruntled Consumer phrase: "This is completely unacceptable." It's worked for me in the past. Didn't seem to have much of an impact in this instance. The customer rep lady was sympathetic, in a customer rep kind of way, but said there wasn't much else that could be done. There were some prolonged silences on my end, just to let the dissatisfaction soak into the conversation. I told her that since UPS had made the mistake of delivering someone else's shoes to me instead of my tickets the previous day, it was incumbent upon them to try a little harder to fix their mistake. I told her I didn't think they were trying hard enough. She repeated that there wasn't anything she could do. I replied, "Well, I guess I'll just have to be DISsatisfied with that."
We're on summer hours at work, and can leave by 1 p.m. on Fridays. I had work to do that would have kept me there till about 3:00 or so, but I stuck around longer on the off-chance the UPS numbskull returned. I waited until 4:30, and then left. On the way out, I left a note at reception that if there's a UPS delivery for me, to call my extension or leave it at reception. Just trying to cover all the bases. I plan to be there early on Tuesday morning.
But that's not the only bad customer experience of the day. Oh no! You might remember from a previous post that I had ordered from an online store a CD wall unit for my apartment. Shipment was supposedly to occur within 7 to 10 days. I had put the order in two weeks ago. There was supposed to be an email notifying me when the shipment left the factory in Vancouver. I had received nothing from them. I called them last week around Tuesday, got a voice mail, left a message. Heard nothing from them. I called them again on Friday. They looked into the situation and told me that apparently my order had not been downloaded with the rest of the orders from that day. Sigh. I had to give them my credit card info again to get the order processed. So hopefully I'll have that delivered in a week or so.
But here's the kicker: Guess who's delivering it?
Yup. The lovely delivery experts at UPS.
Can't wait to see what shows up at my door this time. Maybe more shoes! Whatever it is, I'm gonna make sure I'm home on delivery day, and I'm holding it hostage until I get what I ordered.
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Down With UPS
Three weeks ago I ordered tickets for next Tuesday's Wilco show at the Mod Club. The sale was done over the web, through the band's website. Nice to be able to avoid Ticketmaster--and their service charges--for a change.
The tickets were to be delivered through UPS Worldwide Express. As of middle last week, I hadn't received the tickets. Then I came home Thursday after work, and there was a notice taped to the door in my building's foyer. UPS had attempted to deliver the tickets, but, of course, I was not at home. As is their policy, they attempt delivery for the next two days, and then, if not successful, they hold your order for five business days, and you can arrange to pick it up.
I was kind of hoping UPS would assume that I was not at home at 10 o'clock in the morning two days running because I was at work, and from there, maybe make a logical decision to try the following day's delivery at a different time, like, say after 5 p.m., as is identified on their notice as one of the possible time slots for delivery. No such luck.
But I wasn't worried, because I was sure I could arrange for UPS to redirect the package to my work address. On Tuesday, I called them and arranged just such a thing. But on Wednesday, no tickets. Today, I called them again, and they told me the delivery would be arriving. This afternoon, I returned to my office and noticed a shoebox-sized cardboard box on my desk. It was adorned with UPS stickers and an invoice. Man, I thought, they really go big on the packaging for a pair of tickets. On closer inspection, I noticed the invoice was addressed to one Tracey Kelly (same last name, no relation) in Toronto. Hmmm. Worry began to creep into my mind.
The invoice proclaimed the contents of the shoebox-sized package to be... a box of shoes. I opened the package and confirmed that this was indeed so. Shoes. Tracey Kelly's shoes, apparently. I called UPS again to inform them of the situation. Apparently my tickets were still in their warehouse. I explained that I was getting nervous that my tardy tickets might not arrive in time. The concert is Tuesday night, and Monday is a holiday here. That just leaves tomorrow and (gulp) the day of the show, to get them to me. The first option they offered me was to go and pick them up. Just so happens their office is pretty much as far on the west side of the city as my workplace in on the east side. That means little ol' car-less me hopping on a bus for a trip that would probably take a few hours all told. And this, after I've already paid for the "convenience" of having these tickets delivered to me? No, the pick up is not my first option. In fact, it's pretty damn far down on the list. Like, say, last.
So the UPS woman said she'd send a fax to the warehouse and see if she could get them delivered on Friday, and failing that, she'd authorize a rare "same-day hold" for me, so I could pick them up maybe Friday evening, if need be. Well, we'll see about that. Let's first see if they get them to me tomorrow.
Now, I know there is some sense to UPS's delivery policies, but they didn't really leave me with many options for not being at home during their delivery hours. Seems to me a company that specializes is delivering things should be a little better at it, and maybe have a few more creative solutions to what must be a fairly common situation, i.e., people not being at home during work hours. Like maybe Saturday delivery? And at the very least, if they can manage to deliver someone else's shoes to me, they should be able to find a way to get my tickets to me on time.
As much as I slag Ticketmaster, I've never had a problem getting my tickets by good old postal delivery. Hey Wilco, maybe next time, just send my tickets via the mail?
The tickets were to be delivered through UPS Worldwide Express. As of middle last week, I hadn't received the tickets. Then I came home Thursday after work, and there was a notice taped to the door in my building's foyer. UPS had attempted to deliver the tickets, but, of course, I was not at home. As is their policy, they attempt delivery for the next two days, and then, if not successful, they hold your order for five business days, and you can arrange to pick it up.
I was kind of hoping UPS would assume that I was not at home at 10 o'clock in the morning two days running because I was at work, and from there, maybe make a logical decision to try the following day's delivery at a different time, like, say after 5 p.m., as is identified on their notice as one of the possible time slots for delivery. No such luck.
But I wasn't worried, because I was sure I could arrange for UPS to redirect the package to my work address. On Tuesday, I called them and arranged just such a thing. But on Wednesday, no tickets. Today, I called them again, and they told me the delivery would be arriving. This afternoon, I returned to my office and noticed a shoebox-sized cardboard box on my desk. It was adorned with UPS stickers and an invoice. Man, I thought, they really go big on the packaging for a pair of tickets. On closer inspection, I noticed the invoice was addressed to one Tracey Kelly (same last name, no relation) in Toronto. Hmmm. Worry began to creep into my mind.
The invoice proclaimed the contents of the shoebox-sized package to be... a box of shoes. I opened the package and confirmed that this was indeed so. Shoes. Tracey Kelly's shoes, apparently. I called UPS again to inform them of the situation. Apparently my tickets were still in their warehouse. I explained that I was getting nervous that my tardy tickets might not arrive in time. The concert is Tuesday night, and Monday is a holiday here. That just leaves tomorrow and (gulp) the day of the show, to get them to me. The first option they offered me was to go and pick them up. Just so happens their office is pretty much as far on the west side of the city as my workplace in on the east side. That means little ol' car-less me hopping on a bus for a trip that would probably take a few hours all told. And this, after I've already paid for the "convenience" of having these tickets delivered to me? No, the pick up is not my first option. In fact, it's pretty damn far down on the list. Like, say, last.
So the UPS woman said she'd send a fax to the warehouse and see if she could get them delivered on Friday, and failing that, she'd authorize a rare "same-day hold" for me, so I could pick them up maybe Friday evening, if need be. Well, we'll see about that. Let's first see if they get them to me tomorrow.
Now, I know there is some sense to UPS's delivery policies, but they didn't really leave me with many options for not being at home during their delivery hours. Seems to me a company that specializes is delivering things should be a little better at it, and maybe have a few more creative solutions to what must be a fairly common situation, i.e., people not being at home during work hours. Like maybe Saturday delivery? And at the very least, if they can manage to deliver someone else's shoes to me, they should be able to find a way to get my tickets to me on time.
As much as I slag Ticketmaster, I've never had a problem getting my tickets by good old postal delivery. Hey Wilco, maybe next time, just send my tickets via the mail?
Saturday, July 24, 2004
Life Is Cool
I've made a scientific breakthrough in controlling the weather! I've discovered that if you want to change the weather from hot and unbearably humid (temp. 28+ degrees C, humidex in the 40s) to comfortably warm and breezy (22 degrees, little humidity), all you need to do is go out and buy an air conditioner! It works the same way as the better-known Bring-Your-Umbrella-And-It-Won't-Rain/Forget-Your-Umbrella-And-Get-Soaked theory. Only it's more expensive to implement.
But that's okay, I'm sure August will be hot and sticky. And my guitars are thanking me. My little wooden friends are vulnerable to extremes in humidity. Ideal is around 50% humidity in a room (that's the standard some manufacturers use in their factories). In the winter, the air in apartments and houses is much drier, so I use a humidifier to regulate it. At low humidity, wood can crack (as it did on my acoustic several years go). At high humidity, wood expands, which means glued seals and seams can come undone, bridges can start coming off, etc. The other day, my hygrometer was reading 80% humidity in my apartment. So I hid my guitars back in their cases to protect them, and went out to buy the air conditioner. Within a few hours of turning it on, the humidity was down to 50-60%, which is fine.
Stella was not subjected to this, as she's in the shop getting all gussied up. So when she returns, the room will be nice and cool and I won't have to worry about upsetting her delicate constitution. Hey, ya gotta treat the girls nice!
But that's okay, I'm sure August will be hot and sticky. And my guitars are thanking me. My little wooden friends are vulnerable to extremes in humidity. Ideal is around 50% humidity in a room (that's the standard some manufacturers use in their factories). In the winter, the air in apartments and houses is much drier, so I use a humidifier to regulate it. At low humidity, wood can crack (as it did on my acoustic several years go). At high humidity, wood expands, which means glued seals and seams can come undone, bridges can start coming off, etc. The other day, my hygrometer was reading 80% humidity in my apartment. So I hid my guitars back in their cases to protect them, and went out to buy the air conditioner. Within a few hours of turning it on, the humidity was down to 50-60%, which is fine.
Stella was not subjected to this, as she's in the shop getting all gussied up. So when she returns, the room will be nice and cool and I won't have to worry about upsetting her delicate constitution. Hey, ya gotta treat the girls nice!
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
An Off Week
I've taken this week off. Mostly a get-away-from-work-and-chill week, but also a get-stuff-done-that-I-can't-seem-to-get-done-during-a-normal-week/weekend week. Yeah, one of those. Plus, my schedule at work was showing a very unusual and obvious Responsibility Hole. It was like my desk calendar was screaming at me, "Get out of here! Get away! Save yourself! I got ya covered!" And work has been a very frustrating place over the past few months, so I really needed to escape. Besides, if there's one thing I've learned in my years of employment, it's that when my desk calendar screams at me, I listen.
I was tempted to go back east and visit friends and family, but for that I'd really need two weeks, and I want to reserve two weeks for later in the summer when I may get a chance to visit friends in England.
So I'm just chillin'. I have a mental list of things I want to do while I'm off, but when I started stressing over the fact that I might not get to everything on the list, I revised it. Now the first item is, "Don't be a slave to The List."
But I've been pretty good in as far as balancing the three main elements--chillin', activity and accomplishing tasks. Last weekend started things off with the Celebrate Toronto street fest. Caught a very enjoyable set from the Silver Hearts and later an outstanding performance at Yonge & Eglinton from Hawksley Workman.
Next on the evening's agenda was my friend Chris's annual "Chillin' 'n' Grillin' " party in Kensington Market, which was a low-key but enjoyable gathering. I stayed there till about 3:30 or 4 a.m. or so. Hopped on the Queen streetcar for the ride home, and by the time it got to The Beaches, the sun was coming up. So I strolled down to the boardwalk, took my socks and shoes off and walked along the lake's edge in the sand. It was so quiet and peaceful. Only a few other people around. A girl sitting on a group of rocks jutting out into the lake, writing something. The lake was so calm, you could barely tell where the horizon separated water from sky. The sun was up, barely, but it was still around the bend, so everything was painted in a light golden hue, as if shot through a filter; a purer, clearer place.
I sat on some rocks on the edge of the lake and communed with a group of Canada geese floating just a few feet away. The leader eyed me warily, but soon determined I was neither a threat nor a bringer of food, so they went about their business. I sat there for some time, drinking in the peacefulness.
Enjoying the still of the dawn is a fine thing to do. Going to bed past dawn usually means the following day (well, the present day, actually) is more or less a write-off. Such was my Sunday. But it was pleasantly relaxing.
Monday brought more chillin', but I did do a few things around the apartment. I thought about what to do for the remainder of the week, and seeing that the weather forecast was calling for rain from Wednesday onward, I decided that Tuesday would be the day I spend time over on the Toronto Islands. On Tuesday, I dilly-dallied most of the day, then finally got my ass in gear and out the door by 4 p.m. It was also the first day this summer that I took my bike out, so it was good to finally do that. The day was a beautiful, sunny 28 degrees. My goal was to start off with some heavy pedaling and really get a good work-out, then relax when I get over to the islands.
I took the path through Woodbine park, just south of me, a short jaunt to the beach, where I hooked up with the Martin Goodman trail, a paved pathway that runs along the city's lakefront. It was a good ride. Felt good to get on the bike and really push it. The path follows Lakeshore Drive, then dips south down toward the filtration plant, runs through some heavily vegetated park land, past Cherry Beach, then up through some dockyards, over a bridge and on toward downtown and Harbourfront. I arrived at the ferry docks around five o'clock.
I had been over to the islands a couple of times before, but only to Centre Island and Ward's Island. This was the first chance I had to explore the entire area by bike. I spent a little time in the children's amusement park in Centreville. Great place for kids. Lots of rides, including an antique carousel and ferris wheel, a little farm with animals to look at. Wonderful little place. Then I continued on to explore the other islands. The homes and neighbourhoods on Algonquin and Ward's islands are so beautiful and quaint. It's like a little cottage community five minutes from downtown.
However, the view of downtown (normally something like this) was completely obscured when this very strange mist descended to envelope the entire Islands (and, I later learned, the entire downtown of the city. I was told it was more or less like a cloud came down to earth). I couldn't see a hint of downtown at all. You couldn't see more than maybe 100 feet off shore. It made for some very interesting sights. I cycled across a little wooden bridge to Shark's Island, ostensibly unpopulated, and stopped at a little beachy alcove and peered out into the cloud vapour. I wasn't even sure which direction I was facing, with no horizon, but I assumed I was facing north, toward the city. Then, emerging from the mist, almost indiscernable at first, then slowly taking shape -- a huge, white swan. It floats by, regally, then disappears back into the mist. After that, I half-expected to see King Arthur's funeral barge go drifting by.
No such luck. So I continued on in my quest, passed back over the little wooden bridge (didn't have to submit to any questions), and cycled around Ward's Island, then along the south side, down the Centre Island boardwalk west toward Hanlon's Point. I didn't visit the clothing-optional beach. Too damn cold in that mist. I ended up at the Hanlon's Point ferry dock and waited there about 15 minutes for the ferry back to the city. It was about 7:15, the mist had driven out the warmth of the day, and there I was sitting in my little lycra cycling shorts and yellow cycling jersey, freezing my ass off. It was a bit warmer downtown, thankfully, so I was able to warm up on the ride home.
All in all, a very good day. A bit of exercise, a bit of sight-seeing, going places I'd never been before, and even some weirdness.
Note to self: spend more of the summer on the Toronto Islands!
(I think the descending cloud must have been part of the weather system that brought some pretty intense lightening later that night, and saw a tornado touch down near London.)
Today I went shopping for a flatbed scanner, and began to narrow down my choices. I think I may go for this one. But I found it at another store for a cheaper price.
I've also been shopping around for a solution to my CD storage problem. I have about 800 CDs, some VHS tapes and some DVDs. The problem is, I have nothing to store them in. But this might do nicely. Lots of capacity for a constantly growing collection, and it would look very nice along the now-blank wall where I need it to go, completing the room. Attractive and functional!
I was tempted to go back east and visit friends and family, but for that I'd really need two weeks, and I want to reserve two weeks for later in the summer when I may get a chance to visit friends in England.
So I'm just chillin'. I have a mental list of things I want to do while I'm off, but when I started stressing over the fact that I might not get to everything on the list, I revised it. Now the first item is, "Don't be a slave to The List."
But I've been pretty good in as far as balancing the three main elements--chillin', activity and accomplishing tasks. Last weekend started things off with the Celebrate Toronto street fest. Caught a very enjoyable set from the Silver Hearts and later an outstanding performance at Yonge & Eglinton from Hawksley Workman.
Next on the evening's agenda was my friend Chris's annual "Chillin' 'n' Grillin' " party in Kensington Market, which was a low-key but enjoyable gathering. I stayed there till about 3:30 or 4 a.m. or so. Hopped on the Queen streetcar for the ride home, and by the time it got to The Beaches, the sun was coming up. So I strolled down to the boardwalk, took my socks and shoes off and walked along the lake's edge in the sand. It was so quiet and peaceful. Only a few other people around. A girl sitting on a group of rocks jutting out into the lake, writing something. The lake was so calm, you could barely tell where the horizon separated water from sky. The sun was up, barely, but it was still around the bend, so everything was painted in a light golden hue, as if shot through a filter; a purer, clearer place.
I sat on some rocks on the edge of the lake and communed with a group of Canada geese floating just a few feet away. The leader eyed me warily, but soon determined I was neither a threat nor a bringer of food, so they went about their business. I sat there for some time, drinking in the peacefulness.
Enjoying the still of the dawn is a fine thing to do. Going to bed past dawn usually means the following day (well, the present day, actually) is more or less a write-off. Such was my Sunday. But it was pleasantly relaxing.
Monday brought more chillin', but I did do a few things around the apartment. I thought about what to do for the remainder of the week, and seeing that the weather forecast was calling for rain from Wednesday onward, I decided that Tuesday would be the day I spend time over on the Toronto Islands. On Tuesday, I dilly-dallied most of the day, then finally got my ass in gear and out the door by 4 p.m. It was also the first day this summer that I took my bike out, so it was good to finally do that. The day was a beautiful, sunny 28 degrees. My goal was to start off with some heavy pedaling and really get a good work-out, then relax when I get over to the islands.
I took the path through Woodbine park, just south of me, a short jaunt to the beach, where I hooked up with the Martin Goodman trail, a paved pathway that runs along the city's lakefront. It was a good ride. Felt good to get on the bike and really push it. The path follows Lakeshore Drive, then dips south down toward the filtration plant, runs through some heavily vegetated park land, past Cherry Beach, then up through some dockyards, over a bridge and on toward downtown and Harbourfront. I arrived at the ferry docks around five o'clock.
I had been over to the islands a couple of times before, but only to Centre Island and Ward's Island. This was the first chance I had to explore the entire area by bike. I spent a little time in the children's amusement park in Centreville. Great place for kids. Lots of rides, including an antique carousel and ferris wheel, a little farm with animals to look at. Wonderful little place. Then I continued on to explore the other islands. The homes and neighbourhoods on Algonquin and Ward's islands are so beautiful and quaint. It's like a little cottage community five minutes from downtown.
However, the view of downtown (normally something like this) was completely obscured when this very strange mist descended to envelope the entire Islands (and, I later learned, the entire downtown of the city. I was told it was more or less like a cloud came down to earth). I couldn't see a hint of downtown at all. You couldn't see more than maybe 100 feet off shore. It made for some very interesting sights. I cycled across a little wooden bridge to Shark's Island, ostensibly unpopulated, and stopped at a little beachy alcove and peered out into the cloud vapour. I wasn't even sure which direction I was facing, with no horizon, but I assumed I was facing north, toward the city. Then, emerging from the mist, almost indiscernable at first, then slowly taking shape -- a huge, white swan. It floats by, regally, then disappears back into the mist. After that, I half-expected to see King Arthur's funeral barge go drifting by.
No such luck. So I continued on in my quest, passed back over the little wooden bridge (didn't have to submit to any questions), and cycled around Ward's Island, then along the south side, down the Centre Island boardwalk west toward Hanlon's Point. I didn't visit the clothing-optional beach. Too damn cold in that mist. I ended up at the Hanlon's Point ferry dock and waited there about 15 minutes for the ferry back to the city. It was about 7:15, the mist had driven out the warmth of the day, and there I was sitting in my little lycra cycling shorts and yellow cycling jersey, freezing my ass off. It was a bit warmer downtown, thankfully, so I was able to warm up on the ride home.
All in all, a very good day. A bit of exercise, a bit of sight-seeing, going places I'd never been before, and even some weirdness.
Note to self: spend more of the summer on the Toronto Islands!
(I think the descending cloud must have been part of the weather system that brought some pretty intense lightening later that night, and saw a tornado touch down near London.)
Today I went shopping for a flatbed scanner, and began to narrow down my choices. I think I may go for this one. But I found it at another store for a cheaper price.
I've also been shopping around for a solution to my CD storage problem. I have about 800 CDs, some VHS tapes and some DVDs. The problem is, I have nothing to store them in. But this might do nicely. Lots of capacity for a constantly growing collection, and it would look very nice along the now-blank wall where I need it to go, completing the room. Attractive and functional!
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