You've heard of government waist...?

I sat down on the subway tonight for the trip home, looked down at the transit newspaper sitting open on the seat next to me, and this is what I saw:


Conclusions from the above?

1) The photo editor for this transit paper was asleep at the switch;
2) The photo editor for this transit paper decided to have some fun on his/her last day;
3) Ontario Premier Dalton McGuinty has a great rack! Why would he need breast augmentation?

Another example of government waist...and cleavage!

What's New?

...well, there's this.

Happy New Year

Hi. Remember me? I live here. Haven't been here in a while though. Just haven't had the urge to blog (what the French call le joie de blogge). Or maybe my life just hasn't been interesting enough to blog about. Or maybe it's just that there are times when you simply have nothing to say. As has always been my way, when I have nothing to say, I say it.

(Did I just invent my own Yogi Berra-ism, or has that one been done?)

So here we are on the first day of 2006. I hope you all had/are having a wonderful holiday season, and I wish you all the best in the new year. Let's make it a good one, without any fear.

I had the past 2 weeks off, and it's been most joyful and fun. I went home to P.E.I. for the holidays. It was my father's 80th birthday on the 22nd, so everyone made it home this year to celebrate that occasion; the first time in about 10 years that all the "kids"--all eight of us--were home at the same time. My sister made it from L.A., as did my brother in Yellowknife, although his wife and 13-year-old son couldn't make it. But his 18-year-old daughter flew in from Vancouver Island, where she's just recently moved, having left the nest for the first time. It had been two or three years since I'd seen her, and there's a big change between 15 and 18. She's quite an interesting young lady now. Very sweet and engaging, and it was nice to see her stepping out into the world on her own, obviously excited by what life has to offer. It's always interesting to discover new relationships with my nephews and nieces as they move from their teen years into young adulthood. There's a whole gaggle of them in that age range now. Another niece, who's 20, had a baby this past summer, and it was cool to see my little grand-nephew again, and to see my niece growing into her new life as a happy and caring young mother.

I drove up with my brother from Oshawa. We drove straight through, sharing the driving duties, and stopping only to replenish the car's gas tank and refuel ourselves with Tim Horton's coffee and the finest highway dining. Couldn't ask for more perfect traveling conditions. The skies were clear and the roads were dry. We made it in about 18 hours. 1750-some kilometers. Not bad.

We had a big to-do for Dad's 80th. Rented the town's golf club (and no, I don't mean the sole available 9-iron...). Lots of old neighbours, relatives and family friends came by; people I hadn't seen in years. The mayor came by and presented Dad with a plaque. That was a nice thing. All in all, a fine night.

The major difference this year was that my parents had sold their house this past fall and moved into an apartment. It's been a bit of an adjustment for them, but they did so of their own volition. The upkeep of the house was just getting to be too much for them. Mom is 81 and her mobility isn't what it used to be. She has trouble with her ankles and knees, and has to use a walker or a cane to get around now. So it's much better for her to not have to go up and down the stairs for laundry, etc. It sure was odd, though, driving by the old house and seeing strange cars parked in the driveway and other people living there. We had moved to that house around 1973, when I was about 10, then we moved to Moncton around 76-77, sold it to our former next-door neighbours from the street I grew up on. Then, when my parents moved back around 1986, the house was on the market again, so they bought it a second time and moved back into the very same house they had sold 10 years previously! So we had two tours of duty in that house.

But things change and we adapt. Mom and Dad seem to be doing okay in the apartment. My three sisters who still live in town have been so incredible with helping Mom and Dad with the move, holding yard sales to get rid of stuff they don't have space for any more and just generally making it as smooth a transition for them as possible. God bless them.

Speaking of things changing... they renamed the street I grew up on!! I was floored when I drove by the old neighbourhood and saw the street sign that had always always always said Cedar Ave now said Oak Ave. OAK!!! What the fuck! They can't do that! Cedar Avenue was the centre of my childhood. I felt like every one of my childhood memories had been violated. Turns out it's for the purposes of some new 911 service. There were always two Cedar-named streets which connected in a T shape: the longer, north-south running Cedar STREET, and the smaller, east-west Cedar Avenue--our street--which topped the T. I guess the new 911 system couldn't handle two streets with the same name, so they changed my street to Oak. At least they kept the arboreal theme intact: above us had been Willow Ave, followed by Poplar and Maple. Elm Street was to the west. But that's cold comfort. Damn bureaucrats. They'll get theirs. I'll track them down and rename their kids. Bastards.

My sister and her family live on Maple Avenue, the northernmost entry in the (now apparently arbitrarily named) arboreal-themed street grid. Her husband has a tradition of making a large backyard rink every winter. With two young sons who play hockey, a dad who coaches hockey and a mom who's a former figure-skater, it's a no-brainer for that family unit. Unfortunately, earlier this winter, my brother-in-law suffered a hernia and needed surgery, and he was still in recovery mode when the time came to make this year's rink. So the call went out, and a whole crew of us showed up one afternoon just before Christmas to do the heavy lifting, putting up the hip-high boards that would eventually encircle the frozen surface. There were seven of us altogether: my dad, my brother, myself, two brothers-in-law and two nephews. Didn't take long to get the job done, as a light snow fell and the quips and jokes were almost as sharp as the nails we were using to whack the plywood boards together. It was a nice Rockwellian Christmas moment.

So it was a very nice family Christmas. We all had a lot of fun together and shared a lot of laughs. My mom and dad were obviously very happy to have all of us home. Chances are it was the last time that will happen, so it was one for the books.

Then came the trip back to Toronto. As perfect as the drive up was, the drive back was about as bad as it gets. My brother and I left at 5 a.m. Monday morning in rain, freezing rain, sleet, etc. My brother drove for the first stretch while I put the passenger seat in recline mode and tried to catch a few winks. Somewhere in the pre-dawn darkness between Moncton and Fredericton, we hit a patch of black ice. The car fish-tailed completely sideways, then back the other way, then back the other way, took out a small wooden stake on the roadside with the back of the car, then did a complete 180, and finally came to rest in the middle of the road, facing forward. Thank the deity or belief system of your choice that there were no other cars around. I had awoken and sprang upright as we began going out of control. Not a nice way to wake up. But my brother did a good job keeping us out of the ditch. Close call.

Then it started snowing. And blowing. 100 kph winds. And all the rest of the way through NB was just awful. Some of the worst winter driving conditions I'd ever seen. Poor visibility, blowing snow, slippery, treacherous road. Saw lots of cars in the ditch. Basically you just had to stay in the worn tracks from the vehicles in front of you or you were toast. We made it as far as Riviere-de-loups, just across the Quebec border in the Gaspe as it got dark, and stopped there for the night. Tuesday conditions were much better. Sunny skies, stopped snowing and the roads were clear, completely dry from Montreal to Toronto.

So I'm back, baby... back in the TO groove.

Dicking On

Well, The Dick Ellis Revival lives on. We've pretty much settled on the name, if for no other reason than the fact that we can't find any other name that we like better. A tip for all you kids in bands out there: if, after 10 months of searching, you still haven't decided on a band name, you're not going to find one. For godsakes, people make babies in less time. And name them!

My recent suggestion didn't go over very well. I don't know, I kind of like Courtesy Flush. Maybe a bit too punk.

Things are going pretty well, though. Our monthly Thursday-night residency at Grossman's continues. We played there this past Thursday, and it went pretty well, except that our Queen of the Keys, Bertie, was sick and couldn't make the gig. We really missed her. The beginning of "Orange Juice Blues (Blues For Breakfast)" suffered for it. But we soldiered on.

We've booked a real rehearsal space for Sunday night because we've got a big gig coming up. Next Saturday, November 5th, we're returning to The Legendary Horseshoe Tavern, opening for the great gospel-blues-roots group, The Holmes Brothers. It should be a great gig. We're both drawing from the same well, so to speak: a mix of blues, soul, gospel, country, rootsy rock. We've designed our hour-ish set to be a compact, punchy run-through of our best stuff. At least half of the songs will be originals. I think it'll go over well with the Holmes Bros' audience. I'm really looking forward to it. Three hours in the rehearsal space tomorrow night and another in-home rehearsal later in the week, combined with the fact that we've been playing every month at Grossman's, we should be able to get it together nicely and do a good job.

And we've added a link on our website where you can check out our upcoming gigs.

Dylan For 0 Dollars

AOL has some free streaming footage of Dylan and The Band doing "One Too Many Mornings" from their 1966 tour.

They also seem to be rotating other streaming content (on the right). You can also see Dylan doing "Just Like A Woman" with George Harrison and Leon Russel from The Concert For Bangladesh. You might need Netscape 7.1 or Safari.

Trailer Lark Boys

Just have to pass this on. Got this from my friend Heather. Apparently these are from a competition in which film editors (judging from their e-mail addresses, I assume they were students from a public school in NYC) were asked to recut an existing film trailer, using only footage from the film, to recast the film in a completely different genre. I love "Shining", especially when Solsbury Hill kicks in...


"Shining"

"West Side Story

"Become an NHL star at home, at your own pace"

Now that NHL hockey is back, and "cost-certainty" has hopefully introduced a measure of parity across the league, it's great to know that you, too, can become an NHL star. How, you say?

With NHL Academy!

I did very well in all modules, except the goaltending simulator. But I think I was screened on some of those point(setta) shots.

Good luck!

Keys To Jimbuck2

Spent most of the day rearranging my living room to accommodate my new acquisition. I picked it up at the annual bargain basement sale at Long & McQuade last weekend. It was pretty cheap, and I had been thinking of getting a keyboard for a few years now, so I figured at this price, I had to pull the trigger.

It's quite a cool little keyboard. Obviously it's not a professional-level instrument, but the piano sounds are quite impressive, and of course I can dial up several varieties of electric piano and organ, as well as various kinds of strings, wind instruments, brass, vibes, marimba, percussion, etc. I'm not a keyboard player by any stretch, and I have no illusions of becoming the next Billy Preston, but I can hack out a few chords, so maybe this will help me upgrade my skills to the point where I can carry a song. Plus, with all the other instruments on board, it'll be a great tool for home recording.

"Gimme something in a bouncy C!"

Bobbing in the barrel of time

Of course I watched (and taped) Martin Scorsese's "No Direction Home" Dylan doc over the past 2 evenings. Having never seen more than a few snippets of the 66 tour footage, it was fascinating to see that stuff. I wouldn't have expected Dylan to have been so animated, especially sitting at the piano for "Ballad of a Thin Man". Then again, apparently there was no shortage of those peppy little pills at that time.

I have to say, though, that I thought his performance of the acoustic songs was almost more revolutionary than the electric stuff. I wonder what the folkie-purist-booers thought of his delivery of "Mr. Tambourine Man" or what they made of "Visions Of Johanna". A fine line between delivery and devilry?

It was also interesting to see him expressing his complete exhaustion during that tour. Facing the derision of audiences night after night, and even garnering some death threats, he really was putting his body and soul on the line every night to play the music he believed in. Ironic that the punter in Manchester had yelled "Judas!" when such behaviour less like the kisser, and more like the one kissed. Not that I want to go down that road... just an observation.

I do hope there are more chapters to come. I mean, the first 10 years or so of Dylan's career were certainly interesting, to say the least, but the next 40 years had more than enough stuff worth exploring. Maybe, like Scorsese's blues series, a different director could tackle each successive decade. Hmmm. Who could we get?...

1966-1976 - Tim Burton?
1976-1986 - Spike Lee?
1986-1996 - Jim Jarmusch?
1996-2006 - Clint Eastwood?

Any other suggestions?

U2 II

Just a quick update of my previous post about seeing U2 in concert. Here's some post-facto visual evidence. (Post-facto, yes, but it is pro Bono?)

This is more or less the view I had of The Edge, except I was a little more behind him. For the record, he is left-footed. I was a bit surprised to see he was using that huge digital multi-effects pedalboard. I always figured he was more of a vintage analogue pedal kinda guy. Progress overtakes The Edge.

Here's a shot of Daniel Lanois joining the band on Bono's beautiful, green Gretsch guitar, during the encore of "Bad".

And, I forgot to mention that during one song (can't remember which one), Bono has been choosing women from the audience to haul them up on the catwalk to dance with him. This chick came prepared, decked out in full belly-dancer regalia (hoping to relive the "Mysterious Ways" video, perhaps). She had the moves too! It was pretty impressive.

A Trip Around The Blog

Oy. I've been back from the vacation for over a week now, and I still haven't found the time to blog about it. My excuse though, is that I'm waiting to get my pictures developed. Sorry, I'm not digi-cam-ready yet, still have to get that nasty film to the lab. So I'll wait till then, cos then it'll be real nifty to be able to see the snaps.

Here's the short version though:

- Spent the first week in P.E.I., visiting with family. Met my new great-nephew, all of one week old. Saw the new seniors apartment my parents will be moving into in a few weeks time. Very nice. Also went for a spin is a little 4-seater Cessna. The landsape of the Island is beautiful from the air; a patchwork quilt of various shades of greens, and yellows (wheat), red soil, blue water. Buzzed the bridge.

- Spent the long weekend in Moncton partying my ass off with high-school friends and others. About 80,000 others, in fact. Attended the big Rolling Stones outdoor show in Magnetic Hill, and was blown away by how good it was. The boys are better than they were 10 years ago. One of the best concerts I've ever seen. Also featured The Tragically Hip, Our Lady Peace and Maroon 5. But it was all about the Stones, and they kicked ass!

- Last night, I went to see U2's 2nd of four shows here in Toronto. They played Monday, last night, and again Friday and Saturday. Had a great seat about 20 feet from the side of the stage. Closest I've ever been to a band of this stature. I was close enough that I could have spit on The Edge when he was playing piano during "Miss Sarajevo".

But I didn't. I would never spit on The Edge.

Many celebs in town for the Film Festival. Monday night's show was apparently attended by Ray Liotta, Cuba Gooding Jr., Harvey Keitel, Hal Wilner and, reportedly, Leonard Cohen. Last night, I saw a guy down in the area between the stands and the stage, below me, really digging the show, dancing like a madman. Skinny guy in a tan jacket and tan poor-boy cap. He was being filmed by a crew. I looked closer and realized it was Michael Stipe of R.E.M. During the encore of "Bad" Daniel Lanois joined the band on Bono's beautiful, green Gretsch guitar. My initial thought was "who's the guy with the scraggly hair and prominent bald spot that Bono just handed his guitar too?" I think it's the only time in recent memory that I've seen Danny boy when he wasn't wearing some kind of hat. He and The Edge seem to have a thing about their baldness, don't they. C'mon boys, accept your cranial beauty! Accept it before it DESTROYS YOU!!

Not a Great show, but a very good show and a very cool show with some great moments. "Where The Streets Have No Name", when the house lights came up, I had goose bumps on my goose bumps.

The set list:

Vertigo
Electric Co.
Elevation
Beautiful Day
Still Haven’t Found
City of Blinding Lights
Miracle Drug
Sometimes You Can’t Make It On Your Own
Love and Peace
Sunday Bloody Sunday
Bullet The Blue Sky
Miss Sarajevo
Pride
Where the Streets have no name
One

The Fly
With or Without You

All Because of You
Yahweh
Bad

Ok, that is all for now.

Just A Note Before I Go

Isn't it a beauty? That's "Old Black". Neil Young's legendary guitar, a '53 Gold Top Les Paul that a previous owner painted black. Neil found this guitar around the time he hooked up with Crazy Horse in 1969 and used it on their first collaborative album, Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere (still my favourite Neil album). He later took it to a guitar shop for some repairs, and when he returned some time later to pick it up, the shop had folded up. It came back into his possession sometime around the mid-'70s when he again hooked up with Crazy Horse for his return-to-the-light album, Zuma (which happens to be spinning in my CD changer these days). At some point the bridge pickup had been replaced with one from a Gibson Firebird, which is so microphonic you can actually talk into it and be heard through the amp. That has a lot to do with the unique sound of this guitar.

For more info on Neil Young's sound and gear, look to the Neil Young archives over at Thrasher's Wheat [not to be confused with Neil's "Archives" boxed set(s) which are supposedly finally going to see the light of day next year. Then again, he's been saying that for years].

And before I take off out East for 2 weeks of vacationing, I want to leave you with this exerpt from an interview Neil did with a guitar magazine (available at the aforementioned website). There are so many things I love about Neil's guitar playing--the intensity, the melodicism, the range of expression--but above all is his approach. Check out this little Q&A.


JO: What are your views on people going to college to learn guitar?

NY: Paints a pretty doomed picture of the future, doesn't it? [Laughs.] First of all, it doesn't matter if you can play a scale. It doesn't matter if your technique is good. If you have feelings that you want to get out through music, that's what matters. If you have the ability to express yourself and you feel good when you do it, then that's why you do it. The technical side of it is a completely boring drag, as far as I'm concerned. I mean, I can't play fast. I don't even know the scales. A lot of the notes that I go for are notes that I know aren't there. They're just not there, so you can hit any note. I'm just on another level as far as all that goes. I appreciate these guys who play great. I'm impressed by these metal bands with their scale guys. Like I go, "Gee, that's really something." I mean, Satriani and Eddie Van Halen are genious guitar players. They're unbelievable musicians of the highest caliber. But I can't relate to it. One note is enough."

Amen.

Craigslist Ad Of The Month

This is the funniest classified ad I've seen in some time. Under the "Musicians" category on the Craigslist:

Lets just get together and FUCKIN' JAM, & go from there
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: anon-87425348@craigslist.org
Date: 2005-07-28, 5:28AM EDT

Lets just get together and FUCKIN' JAM, & go from there

I play guitar

how hard is it just to get together

jeezus fuckin christ

-----

That's just too fuckin funny!

Of course, it also raises the question: Do I really want to potentially be in a band with this person? Maybe a low threshold for frustration? On the other hand, at least he/she isn't shy about getting things off their chest.

No Moss

Unfortunately, no Stones turned up at
Hubert Sumlin's gig last night at the Silver Dollar. No Keef, no Ronnie, no Mick (whose 62nd birthday it was).

I was pretty sure something would happen, seeing as the Stones have a solid history of playing a small club gig every time they've been in town. And the Silver Dollar is about the only place they haven't popped up. They've done The Palais Royale, RPM, The Horsehoe, The El Mocambo. Seemed like the planets were aligning, with Hubert in town and Mick's birthday and all, and it was an early show, doors opened ay 6, show at 8.

Hubert, god bless 'im, took full advantage of the hype, not saying whether Keith or anyone else would show up, but hinting that there'd be some kind of surprise in store. The place was packed. And hot. And sweaty. I don't think I've ever experienced a hotter show. Tim, from the band, had reserved a ticket, as had I, which was great because the line-up was down the street. I almost didn't get in. I had to take two cracks at convincing the doorman that I had a space inside waiting for me. What neither Tim nor I realized was that this reserved us a table. When I got in, they showed me to the table, which had my name on it, and the other spot at the table was reserved for Tim. Thing is, neither of us had arranged this. It was just pure coincidence.

Didn't matter anyway, as we ended up maintaining spots right in front of the stage, at Hubert's feet, as it were. If Keith showed up to jam, we wanted to be able to count his wrinkles. Maybe catch a pick. It was a real sweat-fest though. No ceiling fans or anything. Despite the disappointment that no special guests showed up, it was a pretty good show. Can't say Hubert's band was overly impressive. The guitar player was pretty good, but not outstanding. I think the drummer was new, radar always up for cues from the other musicians.

As for Hubert, he doesn't have the fretboard fire he used to have, but then again, the man is 73 years old. With one lung, as he reminded us a couple of times. Still, he showed a few flashes of his old strength. It was great to be able to see one of the true architects of the electric Chicago blues guitar sound. This guy's sound helped shape the music of Howlin' Wolf, he played with Muddy Waters, and he even played on a few Chuck Berry sides. Last night he did Little Red Rooster, Sittin' On Top Of The World (twice!), You've Got To Help Me, Smokestack Lightnin', Got My Mojo Workin' and a few other chestnuts (or shoud I say, Chess-nuts).

I must say, I've always had a much greater appreciation for blues guitarists who play with that strength in the fingers, like they put 100% conviction in every note they play. Every bend is a manifesto. Every slide is a testament. The fast, flashy, smooth guys are great too, although speed demons leave me cold more often than not, but it's guys like Hubert and Albert Collins, the guys that attack the notes with a different degree of intensity, whether it's a seven-note salvo or just one simple phrase, they infuse it with every fibre of their being. It's like they're squeezing every ounce of feeling out of the strings. I really need to dig deeper into the blues guitar archives, and get to know more of the legends. I have several compilations on CD, and I'm fairly aware of the major songs by B.B., Muddy, Wolf, Albert Collins and a few others. But I know very little of Albert King, Freddie King, Elmore James, Buddy Guy, etc.

So anyway, in spite of the lack of surprise guests, it was still nice to be able to pay homage to one of the great blues guitar legends. Rock on Hubert.

That Was The Week Off That Was

Today marks the last day of my week off. I spent the day recuperating from last night's activities at the Beaches Jazz Festival. Imbibed a tad too much, I'm afraid, but it was a pretty fun night. Met some nice folks visiting from Alabama.

And what did I do on my week off? Not much, really, and that's just fine with me. It was more of a week-away-from-work than an actual vacation. Just needed some chill time, really. I consciously tried not to let my time be ruled by any major schedules or itineraries. Harder than it seems. But I did spend some nice time sipping refreshing beverages on patios, watching the work-a-day schmucks returning from the daily grind. Very enjoyable. And I did finally get my ass over to High Park. Been in this city over 10 years, and had never been there before. Did some exploring on foot. I loved the little waterfall part in the middle of the park. Very shady and cool, with a small frog pond, lilly pads, etc. Felt quite magical. Like an elf would pop up from behind a tree trunk and grant me three wishes.

No such luck.

I also did some exploring closer to my end of town. Left the house one afternoon, and just decided to go where my feet took me. They took me down to the Beaches Pub for a refreshing beverage and some garlic cheese bread on the lovely, shady patio. Watched a rollerblading newbie in full protective regalia and a huge backpack struggle along the pathway, arms flailing constantly. Very amusing. Then I walked up around Ashbridges Point, where I had never been before. Sat on some rocks at the lakeside and got some sun. Very nice parkland around there. Must go back again before the summer's over.

Didn't get to go to the Hillside Festival in Guelph, unfortunately, but hopefully the music karmic wheel will spin my way on Tuesday. That's when I'm going to see Hubert Sumlin at The Silver Dollar. Not only will it be fantastic to see one of the great Chicago blues guitar heroes in the flesh, speculation is that his buddy Keith Richards will drop in as well, seeing as the Stones are in town rehearsing for their upcoming tour. Sticky fingers crossed.

Oh yeah, we played a gig last Tuesday night. A return engagement at Grossman's. Wasn't as well-attended as the previous gig, and our first set a little shakey, due to the fact that we barely had one full-band rehearsal before the gig, but the second set was more fun. Overall, not a bad time.

Not Afraid

Got an email from my friend Sue, who moved to London just over a year ago. Thankfully, she was not on the tube last Thursday.

She says that this website started within hours of the bombings.

I had a bit of a tense moment yesterday on the Toronto transit system. I was riding home on the Scarborough RT (a Rapid Transit above-ground train that connects with the subway system in the east end of the city). It was fairly crowded. There was a man standing in the non-active doorway area (opposite the doors that opened to the platform). Suddenly, while we were stopped at a station, he bolted off the train... leaving his backpack on the floor!!

A few seconds pass, and I'm thinking "... um ... er...like ...hey...", and then the guy jumps back on again. Seems like he just wanted to drop something in the trash bin, and then hop back on before the doors closed. He made it. Thanks for the heart attack, pal.

At least I didn't jump up and run to the opposite end of the train, screaming "we're all gonna die!" That would have been embarassing.

No Empathy. No Sympathy.

Poor Karla. Preparing for her imminent release from prison, she's afraid she may be "relentlessly pursued" and "hunted down," and she fears for her life.

Now you know how it feels Karla. Shoulda maybe thought of that, dear, before you helped hunt down, abduct and kill those two young girls. You didn't have even a shred of humanity in you to allow you to put yourself in the place of those girls, and now you want our sympathy?

I think this is called Justice.

But really, I feel her pain. Oh, wait a minute... no I don't.

Brev.

I like this video.

What, The Dick Ends?

As I alluded to in previous posts, the days of The Dick Ellis Revival are near an end. Not the band itself--no need to run for the nearest open window!--just the band under that name. I had thought it was a good compromise name; one that we could all get behind. It wasn't my first choice, and others were lobbying for names that I couldn't live with. But, as is the nature of compromise, it just didn't satisfy enough of the stakeholders. So the search is mounted again for a consensus name. I don't know if you've ever tried to come up with a band name, but it's incredibly difficult. Especially finding one that will please seven people (and their attendant satellite community). And represents the essence of the band. And is original.

It's also unfortunate because after we had settled on the name, I had been inspired to whip up this essay on the origins of the name. It was going to go up on the website, but there's no point in that now. So here, by semi-popular demand, The Dick Ellis Essay.

-----------------
Far and wide, the question is asked: Who is Dick Ellis?

Fear not, my dear friends, for we have asked this question ourselves. And the answer has been revealed in time.

Some say he was a hometown hero. Some say he was a man of the people. Others say he is simply a myth, a story told to sooth worried souls in the dark of night.

But Dick Ellis is not one man. Dick Ellis is an idea. The idea of Dick Ellis cannot be expressed in one person. It takes a village--or at least a band of seven people--to conjure the presence of Dick Ellis. For Dick Ellis is not a captive of mere flesh and blood, nor of the flimsy, impermanent margins of time or tide.

Dick Ellis is the hero within all of us, waiting to be discovered--in every hometown, every city, every nation, and across the deep silence of space. Dick Ellis is a pure celebration of all that is beautiful and true.

But it wasn't always so. In the Fallow Times, there were many who turned their backs and sought instead the false pleasures of the shiny new ways and sounds. But, little by little, with each passing year, the shiny veneer thinned, the phony sparkles fell to rot, revealing more and more of the empty void behind the over-polished facade.

And the people began to wonder: Where was Dick Ellis?

And where was Dick Ellis? He was right where he always had been; we had simply become blind to his presence. And where is Dick Ellis today? Search your innermost soul, dear friend, and you will know the answer:

Wherever people speak from the heart -- there you will find Dick Ellis.
Wherever joyful folk maximize their mojo -- there you will find Dick Ellis.
Wherever innocence yearns to break free from the barbed tethers of the cynical mind -- there you will find Dick Ellis.
Wherever the Natural Smile, the Happy Tear and the Rebel Yell sway hand-in-hand -- there you will find Dick Ellis.

My friends, the spirit of Dick Ellis walks amongst us again. Find him, walk with him, dance with him. It is time for all of us to step out into the sunshine and join the parade. Welcome the rejuvenation.

Welcome The Dick Ellis Revival.


Sincerely,


The Esteemed Stan Herman

I Think It's Gonna Work Out Fine

It had been a while since the band had played a gig. Boag, Tim, Kenny and I had played the Cadillac Lounge as a foursome, but before that, the previous full-band show had been at The Horsehoe on Boxing Day--five months ago, So we were itching to get out and play, especially since we'd added a few more orginals to our repertoire, and had learned a whole slew of new covers that are fun to play.

Through the auspices of our keyboard player Bertie, we landed a three-set slot at Grossman's Tavern this past Tuesday night. Grossman's is a Toronto institution, though compared to some other live venues, it's a little more rough around the edges. Carol Pope and Rough Trade got their start there, as did countless other acts. Bertie's New Orleans jazz band, The Happy Pals, plays a saturday matinee there every week.

We were all happy to get the gig, but the idea of taking on a whole night, playing three sets, seemed to me like maybe we were biting off more than we could chew, especially after being off for so long, and having to learn a whole bunch of new songs. This was compounded by the fact that we had been having a little trouble getting all of us together for rehearsals. But, once we had the gig, we set out to get in as much rehearsal as we could. I think we had had one full rehearsal, and we had scheduled to get together again a few Wednesdays ago, when Boag had the misfortune of being hit by a car while cycling on College Street. He was all right (his bike wasn't), but that scuttled a much-needed rehearsal night.

I'm always nervous going into a gig. Waiting to go on, I always have to use the washroom about 4 or 5 times. Not sure where all that pee comes from, but it wants out. Abandon ship! I was getting anxious about this gig a few days prior, even after we got Bertie's other other band to open up for us. (It's a new duo with her friend Lara, called Mack And Hunt. This was their second gig.) That made our job easier, with only two sets to worry about. But I was still uneasy about our preparedness. And my own preparedness as well. There were a couple of songs where I was fairly shaky about my solos and other parts.

But then a funny thing happened. The day of the gig, I just stopped worrying about it. Something tells me the rest of the band took the same approach, because when we took the stage (actually just the floor at one end of the room), we rocked! We were just having fun--relaxed, easy, happy-go-lucky. Part of it may have been the venue. Unlike other places we've played, such as the Horseshoe and Lee's Palace, where there is a dance floor chasm between the stage and the audience, at Grossman's the crowd is right there in your lap, and you're on the same level with them. No stage.

It was also a pretty rambunctious crowd, for a Tuesday night. Grossman's is the type of place where there are always a few neighbourhood regulars hanging around getting sauced. And, like I said, it's a bit rough around the edges. In fact, just before we went on, there was a huge kerfuffle between some seemingly crack-addled woman and her boyfriend. I had seen them come in, and noted her behaviour, practically bouncing off the walls. Then, as I was at the bar getting a beer for the stage, the man, who had left momentarily, set off a firecracker or something just outside the front door, then comes running back inside pointing at the woman, and yelling "You'd better just call the cops right now!" She's screaming stuff back at him, and then they get into a stand-off around the pool table. He's starting to look like he's about to really attack her, and I'm standing about 10 feet away, wondering whether I should jump in and stop the guy (he was a fairly small-ish dude, didn't look like he'd be that hard to handle). But there were 3 or 4 guys, just patrons, standing closer to them, by the pool table, and they jumped on the guy before he could get to her, one of them putting him in a rather expertly done arm lock. They wrestled him to the ground and then escorted him out. Of course the woman is yelling at them not to hurt him.

And with that out of the way, we started playing!

The room was respectfully populated with various friends and co-workers and regulars. I think I may have heard a few heckles from the half-drunk regs at the beginning, but by about the fourth or fifth number, they were hootin' and hollerin'! "You guys rock!" Shouting out requests. It was a good feeling. There was one rather haggardly old dame who got up periodically to dance right in front of us, sans shoes. "Interpretive" I think they call it. The last time she got up to shake her thing, she jumped in and sang a verse of the song (I think it was during "Down By The Henry Moore"), and then on the way back to her seat, she tangled with a chair, and lost, wiping out rather heavily, landing on her ass. We kept playing, but looked on with concern. She was all right.

In the second set, this long-stringy-haired dude succeeded in badgering us to let him sing a song. For his moment of glory, he chose the Led Zep staple "Rock And Roll". Not part of our repertoire, but we did a reasonably good facsimile. The vocal stylings left a lot to be desired, but our drummer Gerry gets full points for finding his inner Bonham.

But it was a great night. Hot and sweaty and rockin'. It was like playing a roadhouse, without the chicken wire. Our best gig, and our funnest gig by far. We had a blast. We're booked in there again in late July.

Here's the set:

Grossman's Tavern - May 31, 2005
* = original song

1st set:
The Dick Ellis Ramble* (formerly known as The Mavis Ramble, soon to be renamed)
Fast Train
The Fever
Thelma Jane*
Men Without Women
Just My Imagination
Lanois Song*
Get It Together*
Down By The Henry Moore
I Can't Dance
I Think It's Gonna Work Out Fine
Shine A Light

2nd Set:
Orange Juice Blues (Blues For Breakfast)
Don't Let The Green Grass Fool Ya
I'll Be Back
Fed Up Blues*
When Will I Be Loved
Don't Think Twice It's Alright (vocal & piano only)
10th Ave. Freeze Out
Tupelo Honey
Comin' Home*
Lost Highway
Slippin' and Slidin'
When I Paint My Masterpiece