Shameless Plug For the Chris Mulligan Band

Singing Songs for the Turtles

Costa Rican Sea Turtle Fundraising Concert

Time and Place
Start Time: Saturday, June 28, 2008 at 9:00pm
End Time: Sunday, June 29, 2008 at 2:00am
Location: Lancaster House Tavern
Street: 574 Lancaster Street West
City/Town: Lunchbucket, ON

Description
Kameleon (Brandy Miller, Yvonne Jarsch, Adam Webb, Pete Clough, Liam Piggott) and The Chris Mulligan Band (Chris Mulligan, Mark Tonin, Andrew Nowak, HWSRN) together for the first time!

Tickets are 10$ purchased ahead or at the door - 100% of proceeds goes towards sponsorship.

Please come out and help sponsor my volunteer abroad trip to save the turtles!
(I don't know this woman's name. HWSRN doesn't either. She's a friend of Mark Tonin's and the band agreed to play for her benefit. She has volunteered to go to Costa Rica to help save the turtles. Please, will no one think of the turtles?

Check out the cause at:
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=13918145487

Please invite all of your friends!!! Everyone is more than welcome!

Chris Mulligan Band Debut Gig

OK. By way of preamble, let me say, the next couple of postings will be mostly photos. I'm catching up on some things that have been happening in recent days. Regrettably, I am not necessarily able to be present for all these things, why? Cuz I'm cooped up in the Yoni School. For Wayward Poets.

Nurse Ratchet has only so many gears. Slow and stop. Sometimes when I ask real nice, she gives me the day pass, and the day passes without incident. Wherever that incident might be occurring. But sometimes Nurse Ratchet says "Whoa there, Mr. Keiler, buddy, what do you think this is? Hotel Yoni? Think you can waltz in and out whenever you feel like? Don't forget, this is incarceration! For Miss Phelonius Spelling. And you too! Sit back and do your time, meter and rhyme awright? And don't bother me so much."

Well, first of all, this ain't no incarceration. It's more like incineration, a conflagration of memorization, insanitization of the po-tic nation. Some days she gets me in that vice grip of hers. You know, she turns the little screw and it slowly squeezes until all the little vices floating around in my cranium begin to squirm and I just want to scream, "All right already! I promise I'll conform. I'll perform. I'll reform. I'll bee the speling bee champ for you. VICE! V. I. S. E! VICE!"

And B: Nurse Ratchet, I don't waltz. I can't rhyme in 3/4 time. Four on the floor for me, see? That's the problem. I can't do that ther Yoni Waltz. It ain't no ballroom. It ain't no Johann Strauss Orchestra. It's the Wayward Poets wandering the halls, climbing the walls, kickin' in the stalls, catcalls and pratfalls. And I need to get out of it sometimes, just to be assured that sweet chaos still reigns in the po-tic jungles of Ontariario.

But a day pass is a pass for a day and some days there ain't no way to get a pass for a day. So I have to rely on outside sources, the primary one being HWSRN. He has the run of the roads. I, in my tiny cell flanked by cafetearias and nursetearias and roll-top desks filled with fountain pens and parchment (the tools used by true potes, not we ersatz versifiers) I at least have the run of the Internet, which is not forbidden to us because there are so many resources available to help us rehabilitate our bad language habits. (I've been ordered to stay away from the comments sections of political and news sites, though, because they're overwhelmed with bad grammar and execrable spelling. Sorry, political bloggers and columnists and Yahoonies, but when I see the level of illiteracy, rudity and downright stupidity in the peanut gallery of the Net, it is to weep.)

HWSRN obliges me, however, by providing snippets of outside life. Mostly related to him, of course. I cannot guilt him into starting his own bloody blog. Mine is too convenient for him, and I too desperate for legitimacy.

So. As my friend Veronica Goodheart is wont to say.

So.

Yesterday, HWSRN played the first gig with the Chris Mulligan Band (CMB). I mean, it was their first outing in public, an event called the Come Together Festival. This took place at a place called the Frontier Ghost Town, a rather sad-looking, bedraggled collection of ramshackle buildings and old cars and campsites a little ways outside of Durham Ontariario. Here are a couple of photos of the venue:






















HWSRN sez the pitchers make it look a whole lot purtier than it really wuz, but it had been raining all day and the pathways were a sea of mud. It's probably much nicer when the weather's good.

Too, bad, sez HWSRN, but there's no photo of the Saloon. Which is where all the bands were playing. There was a big tent set up outside, but the bad weather had forced everyone into the smaller venue. The Saloon, however, was comfortable in its own primitive way, and the saloonistas were rockin'.

So here are a few photos of the Chris Mulligan band. The members are:
Chris Mulligan - guitar
Mark Tonin - bass
Andrew Nowak - drums
HWSRN - keyboards

You can find out more about Chris Mulligan Band and hear some recently-recorded clips at Chris' MySpace page.

Update on "Gonna Keep Dancing"

Gonna Keep Dancing Crashes & Burns

I'm sorry to report that "Gonna Keep Dancing" did not win the Juno Award last night. Sadly, for Eddie, the award was won by:

There has been no word from Eddie directly yet, but my guess is he's still recovering from the Juno parties. Even if you don't win, there's lots of fun to be had. And I expect also that he's not completely disappointed. He was astonished to receive the nomination in the first place. Congratulations to Ms. Gould, and to Eddie: Make another one!

Meanwhile, you can encourage Eddie by going to his site and buying his CD so he can pay for the next one!

For a listing of other winners, you can go to the Juno site.

Playin' in a Travellin' Band - Part 2

HWSRN has certainly learned the Airport Security Drill. Flying out of Lunchbucket International bound for Cowtown Alberta where the cows bathe in oil and the execs stampede from one sludgepot to another. The band was headed for Edmountain, of course, but they had a two-hour layover in Cowtown.

Security in Lunchbucket is thorough and not too quick. They swabbed one of HWSRN's flight cases...the one that has the electronic accordion generator in it. Too many wires. Too many obvious circuit boards. That's OK. The world is an increasingly paranoid place. Life is constrained now. You do have a choice. You can stay at home. Save the ozone.

Nevertheless, the band passed through the electronic arches in relative comfort, minus Voin's needle nose pliers.

Then Cowtown.

Not only is paranoia the order of the day. The nation has become positively unfriendly to those poor slobs who still smoke the demon tobacco. Even the flight attendants make fun at their expense. (Ladies and gentlemen, you will find our smoking section off on the right wing. The in-flight movie is Gone With the Wind...ha ha!) HWSRN is unrepentant...a dirty filthy smelly barbarian of a smoker. He must have his smoke.

The Cowtown airport is long. Long and narrow under conditions of addictive compulsion. Long, narrow and nearly endless. There are no exits but the one. That one at the other end of the airport. About half-way, HWSRN waylaid a couple of WestJet employees and was told that if one must smoke, the only place was at the far end, out past the TimHo's, out past the security gates, out past the Departures entrance, across the road, next to the parking garage. Another postal code away, as they said so cheerfully. And there, next to the driveway and the traffic calming and the stacked floors of parked cars, you may fire up your foul weed and inhale to your heart's detriment the delightful mixture of tobacco and exhaust fumes.

Fine. HWSRN puts up with all this, all these little inconveniences and demeaning gestures, cuz he smokes, he flies, and this is a weird planet and he certainly lives on it most of the time.

But you noticed that I said that the smoking ghetto is outside, right? Past the security gates. Which means that one must pass thru security again to get back on de plane. A two-hour layover is long enough to go for two smokes. So HWSRN passed thru security at Cowtown International Aeroport two times. He knows how to do it now. The first time they took away his water bottle cuz he forgot it was even in his bag. He'd taken it off the plane to drink it. They would be travelling to Edmountain on a different plane. So he gave up his water. Other than that there was no problem.

An hour later he repeated the same process. This time no water. But he had his bag pulled aside by the same security woman who had taken his water earlier. There was some suspicious electronic device in this nondescript Labatt's Blue duffel bag. HWSRN's iPod. Which had been there in exactly the same place an hour earlier. Which simply goes to show. Airport security is an ass.

I asked HWSRN why he didn't just leave his bag with someone in the band, take off his pants and shirt and go out like that. Nothin' but a lighter and a pack of smokes. He was aghast. He is under the impression that it's a federal offence to leave your carry-on luggage with anyone but the person who so lovingly packed it. And he may be right. Aeroport security is as likely to blow up any unobtrusive package as look at you.

There you have it. Terrorists are everywhere. Cowtown especially. Oil. Money. Get it? HWSRN is convinced he encountered one in the airport men's room. He was bearded and his flow was rather erratic.

On to Edmountain and the Westin Hotel. Everything there is plush. And for sale. The bathrobe hanging on the inside of the bathroom door is plush. Pure white. Don't touch it. It could cost you $150. There is a hydra-headed shower apparatus. You may avoid one, but the other will get you for sure. If you want bathroom fixtures just like the ones in the hotel, you can order them from the catalogue. The bed is plush. You could die in that bed and never know it. They could just take that mattress, stuff it into a box and you could lie in plush eternity, blushing at the luxury. The pillows are plush. The duvet is plush. But heavy. HWSRN calls it the X-ray blanket. You spread it over yourself and you are suddenly immobile. The hospital corners are plush. Also immovable. Voin says you could wake up with a sprained ankle. The coffee is Starbuck's and actually good. The breakfast buffet is $20. Which is a deal cuz if you order à la carte, the orange juice alone is five bucks. (But it's fabulous OJ.) You need a key to make the elevator go to the guest floors. (This is the hotel equivalent of aeroport security.) The doorman opens the door even if you're wearing track pants. If you want to smoke, you must go 60 metres away from the door. To another postal code.

Oh, and there was a gig. At the Shaw Conference Centre. The Edmountaineers love this party. It sells out every year. They come to drink beer, eat German style, polka and waltz, chicken dance and hokey pokey for the first part of the night, then mosh up to the front of the stage for whatever classic rock band has been hired that year.

Which leads me to the perennial problem with that gig. The sound company and their employees. BFB has played that gig for somewhere around 15 years. Each year with a different rock band. Some of those bands are coming around for their second time. But BFB returns every year. Somehow the sound techs have not figured out that BFB is the staple and the other guys are just passing through. Therefore, they sometimes treat BFB disrespectfully. As if the band is there for them, and not the other way around. Part of the problem comes from the fact that BFB always starts the night off, so they seem like the warmup band. Which they are not. Since they are a complete show in themselves. And the boss knows it.

I won't name this sound company, but it starts with an A, ends with an E, and HWSRN says they should have a big X through the middle of them. In fact, if it was up to him, they'd be AXEd before sundown. Some years are better than others, but in fact, they have never once gotten everything right. And this year, the techs were arrogant and rude, and decided that eating their lunch was more important than making sure Sonja had a working mic to yodel into. Disgraceful.

From all this, you might conclude that the travellin' part and the gig part are more trouble than they're worth. But you'd be wrong. If you ask HWSRN he'll tell you they had a good time. Way more fun than an enema.

Playin' in a Travellin' Band

Oh yes, BFB travels when the stars are in alignment.

This past weekend the band played the two casinos in Winterpeg. Where it is not yet winter. A little cool, a little rainy, but not yet winter.

The band was housed at Club Regent Hotel, next door to Club Regent Casino. In Kildonan, not far from Transcona.

It's a pretty ordinary hotel, but after all, the guests don't really come there for the luxury of the beds.

The casino is the main attraction and it actually features a bit more than the drone and blink of VLTs and slots. To quote the website: Our Caribbean Resort experience includes the treasures of Neptune's Cave and an awe-inspiring undersea world featuring the largest, walk-through saltwater aquarium in the entire Midwest. Hundreds of tropical fish from around the world to guard the wreck of Galleon Reef. And it's true, the aquarium is quite a sight.

The first gig was in a downstairs lounge called Jaguars Dance Club. A lot of ballroom dancer types. Liked the latin stuff. Salsa. Calypso. Mambo. But of course, BFB played the Oktoberfest schtick. That's what they were hired to do. Yodelay ee hoo.

The next night was McPhillips Street Station at the other end of town.

This was a different kind of gig. BFB played the main stage, a concert, which is a strange kind of situation for what is normally a dance/party band. 90 minutes of show here. What to do? Can't get the people up doing the Bird Dance or the Hokey Pokey...

But in fact the show went very well. Good pacing, the band played hot, the people clapped, the people hollered, the people sang along to some of the old standards. BFB has this new chant kind of thing that worked well that night: "Who are we? BFB! Who are we? BFB! Who are you? Family! Who are you? Family!"

Ah, the glamour and the glory.

Not.

The band loves it when a gig goes well, when the people have enjoyed themselves, when the management is happy. But there are other considerations.

Travel is hard, really. And can be complicated. No tubas in BFB (cuz it's not repeat not an oompah band) but there is some heavy equipment and fragile instruments. Airlines are notorious for their carelessness and their indifference to the needs of musicians. In fact, the American Federation of Musicians imposed a boycott of Delta Airlines in the US for quite some time because they refused to make any concessions whatsoever to the special handling needs of AFM members. WestJet, on this flight out, wanted to charge $40 for three pounds overweight on one case. Gone are the days of pre-9/11, when airlines were flush with profits from their monopoly routes (or, alternatively, competing hard for your business...Wardair vs. Air Canada, Canadian Airlines vs. Air Canada...in those days, they competed by offering perks, now they compete by price alone, the cheaper the better and service be damned...just make sure your liquids are properly bagged and shoved up the first available orifice...But don't get the wrong impression, HWSRN is not particularly complaining about WestJet, cuz, if anything, they're more pleasant than the Air Canadians.)

The flight cases HWSRN currently uses to transport his equipment cost in the neighbourhood of $1500. His accordion case is made of corrugated aluminum, welded, custom-made for the accordion. Thanks to WestJet it now has a not-very-aesthetic crunch in one corner. Air Canada put a nice dent in one side the very first time it was used. ("I'm sorry sir, but see, like it says here on the paper we keep handy for situations exactly like yours because they occur every day all day, airlines don't cover dents and scratches...we only cover our asses.") Fortunately, the manufacturer of the case, Engineered Case Mfg. in Mistersauga, took more care than airlines ever do, and the accordion has suffered no damage since HWSRN started using it.

The recalcitrance of airlines is one reason why BFB and all other bands struggle to keep their equipment load to a minimum. And that means renting at the other end. Certain things are easily rented...drum kits, mics, PA systems. Other instruments are more iffy.

For Winterpeg, BFB rented a bass guitar, which turned out just fine. Voin requested an electric guitar and an acoustic. Voin, however, is left-handed, so that complicates things. On arrival, he found a Fender Telecaster, which is what he uses at home. And a Takamine acoustic. Within seconds, testing the Telecaster, he had broken a string. Old strings. By the time sound check was finished, he had discovered that the Telecaster simply would not stay in tune because it had not been set up properly. He picked up the acoustic and it died within minutes because the battery was dead. Voin, being himself, went ballistic, and after a period of ranting and hollering at the music store guy, it was determined that the store would deliver another guitar. Which they did, about an hour into the gig. This one was a Stratocaster, a nice guitar, which Voin liked, but later in the evening, it too broke a string, so he was back to the Tele.

In a certain sense, a guitar is a guitar, and a guitar player can play any guitar and perform adequately. Not so with electronic keyboards. Rent an electronic accordion? Forget it. So HWSRN always has to bring his accordion rig with him. And the other keyboards, well...except for basic organ, piano, string and horn sounds, one keyboard cannot replace another. HWSRN's main keyboard is a Korg Triton LE, a model which is a few years old. It's been replaced by a newer model called the TR, which is pretty much the same, except for its data storage system. The two are not compatible, but the sounds are transferable. So with some computer finagling, HWSRN was able to use the TR88 that was supplied, loaded with his customized sound patches. The TR88 performed flawlessly, mainly because that keyboard was right off the store shelf and still had the price tag on it.

His second keyboard, however (third, if you count the accordion) is an ancient instrument called a Yamaha DX7. The DX7 was the first wildly popular digital synthesizer. HWSRN's is probably 25 years old and still in pretty good shape. But 25 years...have you any idea how old that is in dog years? They are starting to get rare. He was told that they had one for him out in Winterpeg. In fact they had two. The first, and best-looking one was a DX7II-FD, a later model of the DX7. Not compatible. Again, different data storage systems. The second was just like his. The only problem with that one was that it did not work. At all. Nothing but static could be coaxed out of that box.

So he did without. But as the evening wore on, he realized more and more how much he actually used his DX7. Primarily for specific sounds he'd never heard on any other keyboard. (Which leaves him now with the dilemma of what to do when his own DX7 finally fails. Look for other sounds, I guess. He's researching a newer Yamaha keyboard which, it's said, can replicate the old DX sounds...) So HWSRN spent the weekend short one keyboard. Ah, but the show must go on.

And it did too. The next night was the triumphant show at McPhillips Street. Great show. Everybody in the band analysing and concluding that it was great. The stage manager effusive. The techies all very friendly. Comes the end of the night, the band wants to hang out in the green room and dig into the deli platter placed in the rider of the contract. HWSRN skipped supper in the expectation of food at the end of the gig. However, no food to be found. (Did I mention the casino has a McDonalds?....) The stage manager apologetic but foodless. Then it turns out also that the paycheque is locked in the lockbox and no one has the key. The stage manager apologetic and chequeless. He gave the band fancy folding pens with the casino logo on them. (The paycheque is not a major problem. It will come, only late. It's not likely that a government-run casino will welch on a legit contract. But it calls to mind the old joke: "What do you call a guitar player without a girlfriend?" Homeless.)

So, as you can see, when it comes to essential elements of a perfect road gig, this one is not stacking up so well.

And the finale.

When BFB travels, they get a limousine service. This is not as fancy as it sounds. Not the shiny white stretch limo. More like a big cargo van. Sometimes with seats. Sometimes not. It's for carrying both people and equipment to the venue or the hotel. So in Winterpeg, the band had a driver pick them up, a little late. He took them to the hotel along with their gear. And he picked them up early Saturday morning after the gig at Jaguars Dance Club to take them over to McPhillips because, in the weird logic of the road, it made more sense to set up and do sound check at 2:30am, immediately after the previous gig, than to do it at the usual time for McPhillips sound checks, that is, 5:30am. (5:30am, you ask? Who does sound checks at 5:30am? The casino, because they're closed then, that's why. Besides, what a treat that is for the musicians...) Anyway, this way the band could sleep the day away, if necessary, before the gig.

Saturday, a different driver picked them up at the hotel and drove them to McPhillips Street Station for the show. And he picked them up after it was over. The band had an early flight out of Winterpeg, and the driver was scheduled to pick them up at the hotel at 4:20am. The band left their gear in the van, because it was only about three hours before pickup time.

Except the driver never showed up.

Thirty minutes after the scheduled time, the band was in 3 Prius taxis racing across town in $30 trips to the airport. Without the equipment. They made their flight all right. But the gear didn't. BFB never saw the driver, but he must have arrived at the airport some time later and dumped the gear off, which WestJet obligingly flew to Hawgtown later in the day. And HWSRN, since he's a courier during the day, picked it up and charged $125 (which he has yet to collect from whoever is going to pay the bill...the agent, the limousine company, the casino...)

As for the driver, falling asleep on the job is not a good thing. It usually means that you have much more time on your hands to sleep just about any time you want. Because in this case, whoever is paying has a $100 taxi bill, a $125 courier bill, and possibly the freight charges for the WestJet flight. An expensive nap.

That's just one story about playing in a travelling band. I never did get around to blogging about the comedy of errors that accompanied BFB's gig in Edmonton a year ago. Or about the road trip to Fort Wayne when the water pump blew out in the middle of the night somewhere in the wilds of Ohio and two scary-looking tattooed punks accompanied one of their number to an all-night auto parts store! Or driving through the Shield of northern Ontariario (again in the middle of the night) in a snowstorm in a van where the choice was between headlights or heater, listening to the apocalyptic sounds of Yes playing Close to the Edge. And they were. Close to the edge.

But speaking of Edmonton. It's that time of year again. This Saturday night BFB will again be playing the Shaw Conference Centre:

As far as road gigs are concerned, this one is primo. The band gets treated very well, the crowd is always good, and big, and responsive. Which doesn't mean that everything can't go south in a heartbeat. Stay tuned.

Here are details for the gig. If you are in Edmonton, or close by, or feel like travelling yourself, check it out.

Name:	Oktoberfest to Rocktoberfest 2007
Start Date:	10/27/2007
End Date:	10/27/2007
Hours:	Doors open at 6:30 pm
Location:	Shaw Conference Centre
Address:	9797 Jasper Avenue
City:	Edmonton
Cost:	$28.25 plus GST
Contact:	Shaw Conference Centre
Phone:	780-421-9797
Website:	www.shawconferencecentre.com
Description:	It’s time for the biggest Oktoberfest celebration in Western Canada – Saturday, October 27th the Shaw Conference Centre presents Oktoberfest to Rocktoberfest 2007. This year’s annual party classic features a German feast, good old oom-pah-pah favorites and polkas. The Black Forest Band is charged with the traditional music festivities followed by Canada’s own rock ‘n’ roller David Wilcox at midnight. Tickets are $28.25 plus GST, available only at the Shaw Conference Centre Administration Office or charge by phone at (780) 421-9797. The ticket includes a Bavarian feast, a commemorative Oktoberfest 2007 beer mug at the door and the chance to win great prizes, including a trip for two to Germany. It’s an annual sell out, so act fast! TICKETS GO ON SALE FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 14th.

BFB Impersonates Oktoberfest Band

Here are a few photos of BFB during Oktoberfest.

Phil In, Drummerguy, who replaced Helmet admirably for the 9 days, Helmet being temporarily unavailable cuz he was impersonating the president of the Lunchbucket Oktoberfest Committee.

Dozey (trumpet), HWSRN (accordion & keyboards) & Sonja (Jodelette)

BFB with Canada's Polka King, Uncle Wally Ostanek

Audience members perform the Polka Head Salute during the world-famous BFB Hokey Pokey

Gonna Keep Dancing

Sophisticated Songs
for Sophisticated Kids

HWSRN received a pleasant surprise in the mail the other day. The CD that you see here on the left. It was a pleasant surprise because it's the final result of some recording that HWSRN did more than two years ago now and which I posted about here. (I couldn't believe it was that long ago when I looked it up...)

The artist's name is Eddie Douglas, a children's performer, and these are songs for kids. But they're not run of the mill singalong nursery rhyme-type songs. Some of them have a catchy enough hook, but some of them must be listened to. They're all singable, but not simple-minded. Sophisticated is what they are.

So HWSRN is feeling sophisticated himself, playing on such a recording. You can see him on the cover there, the suave armadillo in the ten gallon hat pawing the squeezebox.

Eddie collaborated with some great lyricists for this recording, including that great Canadian icon of children's books, Robert Munsch. And every song presents a different style of music, a different mood.

Here's a clip of the opening track in its entirety. It's called Armadillo Stomp. If you want to hear more or order a CD, visit Eddie's website, Fat Flea Music.

Happy Manifestation Day HWSRN

Thich Nhat Hanh says because there is no true birth or death, we do not really have a birthday. He says we should call it manifestation day. So, happy manifestation day, HWSRN!

My Favourite Photo of HWSRN

HWSRN scored tickets to The Merchant of Venice, so he bribed Nurse Ratchet (his date cuz he doesn't like to date himself) to let me and Suzy Homemaker come along. Nurse Ratchet thinks it's OK cuz Shakespeare is supposed to have written some good po-tree and maybe we'll learn something. I say, "If you prick me, do I not bleed?"

Happy Birthday Larry Keiler

Yes, today is my birthday. Larry Keiler, born Aug. 7, 1756. If you don't believe me go look at my profile.

(Actually, I don't know how 1756 ended up on my profile, but I liked it so much I kept it that way.)

And of course, my altered ego, HWSRN, will be celebrating his birthday tomorrow.

Don't you think it's interesting, that me, the Altered Ego of He, was born before He? How could this be? After all, we're twins, right? Siamese twins, (or, given our Buddhist inclinations, Tibetan twins) joined at the lip. His is thin and sneering. Mine is fat and floppy. Or is it the other way around? Never mind, the only way you can tell us apart is to yell "Hey Bubba!" in a crowded room. The only one who will turn around will be him. Or maybe it'll be me pretending to be him.

My only answer to this thorny puzzle is: amrak! The amrak train arrived a day early for me.

I am like John the Baptist, the voice in the wilderness preparing the way. And he is...not Christ! But he comes to me for the baptism of po-tree. And I throw him in the Jordan and say "Sink or swim, buddy I mean Bubba..."

Mostly he swims. Upstream. He is the salmon. I am the roe. We are inseparable and often indistinguishable because we are identical twins of different mothers.

We are the answer to the question, "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" The egg. The roe. Aug. 7, 1756. The chicken clucked on Aug. 8. Tomorrow he will crow.

What will I do on my birthday? Perhaps I'll be meek and pliable for the orderlies at the Yoni School. Perhaps I will take my meds without complaint. Perhaps I'll refrain from flicking boogers at the walls of potic injustice. Perhaps I'll begin to spell my name correctly: Lairy.

Or not.

Victoria Park at Sundown

unkempt, bedraggled after winter's long tectonic rumble,
the grass greening through muddy footpaths,
here, there, a quick outbreak of exuberant crocuses
shocking in their colour to snow-dimmed eyes

pines, maples, weeping willows spruce up,
unbending toward the warming sun

setting now, an orange with fiery zest,
a target for the takeoff of two geese
suddenly raucous as they heave themselves from the water

a pair of drakes mutter about the state of the lake,
swans stately on the shore

away from the street, the sibilance of cars almost soothes,
soft counterpoint to the mingled calls of sparrows,
chickadees, jays and cardinals, a mourning dove lowing,
all in last-minute flurries
skittering up, down, catching handy branches,
a bite to eat before bed

the air is a breath of moisture,
redolent with earlier rain, green and substantial

lovers walk the paths, low voices laughing,
even the dogs are peaceful

HWSRN
April/00

"Tending Memory" Book Launch

The Dove Tale Writers collective has another fledgling just out of the nest. Marianne's book launch took place on the 21st at her daughter's dance studio. Well attended by lots of friends and well-wishers. Here are a few photos of the evening's events.

Marianne read passages from Tending Memory and thanked everyone. HWSRN took his accordeen for a walk, and Samantha danced a gypsy dance.

The song is Brahms' Hungarian Dance #4 played by HWSRN on accordeen and Voin on guitar. (When I uploaded it to DivShare and tried to play it back it was very slow loading. I don't know if it will be slow here...until I publish the post...but if it is, please be patient.) All the photos were taken by Leslie Bamford, except the one she's in which was taken by her husband, Bob.

Common Thread Community Chorus of Toronto

PLANTING THE SEED

8th ANNUAL CONCERT with Special Guest, Eve Goldberg

Saturday, May 26th, 2007 1:30 and 7:30 p.m.

WALMER ROAD BAPTIST CHURCH

188 LOWTHER AVENUE

ADULTS: $15 ADVANCE/ $18 AT THE DOOR
STU/SEN: $12 ADVANCE/$15 AT THE DOOR
CHILDREN (6-12) $6 ADVANCE/$8 AT DOOR (UNDER 6 FREE)
PAY WHAT YOU CAN: AVAILABLE AT THE DOOR FOR BOTH CONCERTS

VISA AND MASTERCARD ACCEPTED
ACCESSIBILITY: WHEELCHAIR ACCESSIBLE, BRAILLE PROGRAM, HEARING ASSISTIVE DEVICES
# FOR TICKET INFORMATION CALL 416-410-5022 OR
Email: info(at)commonthreadchorus(dot)ca

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A few days ago, the Song of the Day was a tune called Dégénérations, which HWSRN has been practicising for this concert with the choir mentioned above. He insists on coming to the Yoni School to practise. He says the po-tree in the air, wayward or not, is inspirational. It gives flight to his fingers. (Some days it gives flight to my sanity...but then, who's complaining? Three squares a day, as much TV as I can stand, the company of eccentrics, wayward eccentrics...what more could I ask for.)

Anyway, he's been practising. I've been driven mad. Can't get the song out of my head. Over and over. And over.

Did I mention over and over?

Anybody, in the Toronto area. Go to the concert. There you will see HWSRN, playing his accordeen, along with a standup bass player, fiddle and bodhran. The choir, not professional, (it's a community choir) is pretty good, says HWSRN, and led by a very good woman named Isabel Bernaus. All the people are very nice. They create lots of positive vibes.

And the Lord knows Hawgtown needs all the positive vibes it can generate.

Polka Music & International Women's Day

Today is International Women's Day, so in celebration of that I've chosen the chorus from a song by Eddie Blazonczyk & the Versatones, America's #1 Polka Band and a past Grammy winner:

Girls girls girls
They're all made to love
Made to kiss and hug
And take advantage of

Girls girls girls
All have one goal in life
To get some single fella
And become his wife

OK, OK, I see the women gathering outside the door with torches, pikes & staffs (staves?)...I think I even see a short rope somewhere there in the petticoats.

Please, the inclusion of this excerpt is...satirical...or ironic...or abashed...pick one. The thing is, it's hard to tell whether Eddie & the Boys are serious or not. I don't know when this song was first released. I think it's from the era of Yellow Polka Dot Bikini, or maybe a little later...anyway, long before there was an International Women's Day, or political correctness, or any concept of intelligent life among the members of the female persuasion, apparently.

Now I like polka music. Not as much as HWSRN who, after all, plays the accordion fer godsake, in a polka band. He's the one who brings me this stuff. He barges into my cell with his latest vinyl discovery and hollers over his big puffy headphones, "Hey Larry! Hey Larry! Hey Larry! Ya gotta hear this!"

And I dutifully listen, because I can't afford to cause a disturbance on the range, or Nurse Ratchet will sedate me and force me to listen to New Age drones until I agree to give her a pedicure...which I wouldn't mind so much except she has six toes on her left foot, one of which speaks in tongues.

But where was I? Oh yes, I do like polka music. But it suffers from one flaw. Its subject matter tends to be a little antedeluvian. They say Polka People Are Happy People. And it's true. Polka music is happy, bouncy music. (Literally bouncy, if you closely observe the Polish women...) But that limits the thematic range of the lyrics. They tend to be about beer, women, dancing and...polka music.

Can you imagine trying to write a polka protest song? I can't, but HWSRN can becuz he's tried. Anyway, polkas tend to be happy. Waltzes, on the other hand veer towards corn syrup. Many of the Polish waltzes are about yo' mama. Only obereks seem to have the potential for social commentary because, even tho they're in three-four time like a waltz, they have more drive and more energy.

I believe Eddie's retired now. The gout got him and his son took over the band. I don't know whether they were/are the #1 band, but they certainly were one of the best in all of the USA. But even so, you see the unfortunate results above. It's sort of in the polka blood. That's one of the more egregious examples, but others a little less sore thumbish are plentiful.

So my suggestion for women on International Women's Day is to forget about feminism, glass ceilings, wage equality and all that stuff. Concentrate on polka music and how to transform it into a powerful tool of gender equality. Bonne chance!

407 ETR Gives With One Hand, But...

Doesn't she look excited? Doesn't she look happy? Who wouldn't be happy? What could make you happier than 407 ETR Rewards?

The 407 ETR is the infamous toll highway of Ontariario, built by the NDP (aka National Deficit Party)(aka Nearly Democratic Party)(aka Normally Defeated Party) guvment in the 1990s. ETR stands for Electronic Toll Road. When it was first opened they touted their electronic tolling system which uses a transponder (and if you don't have one of those they take a picture of your license plate and send you a bill.) The system caused quite a few billing problems in the early days, and still does today sometimes. But it's better than it used to be.

Revenue from the highway used to go to the province. But after the Newly Defeated Party gave up the ghost and bowed out in favour of Mike Harass and his Neo-Constipators, the highway was sold to a private consortium in a deal that caused consternation among many citizens because it was so sweet for the consortium. In other words, the 407 ETR is a private highway now. That explains, maybe, in part, why the billing system has improved a little. But there are still problems (you can hear them periodically on talk radio) and the company has a reputation for arrogance and unresponsiveness.

Ontariario's latest guvment, run by Gliberals, has had clashes with the 407 ETR company as complaints have continued to come in and tolls have increased steadily. (This goes to show why public highways, as essential services, ought not to be controlled privately...it makes me think of toll collectors on medieval bridges: Thou shalt not pass! Unless you pass some cash!) But for the past year and a half, the company has been constructing extra lanes on parts of the highway, which has improved traffic flow (and revenue too, one would think.)

Anyway, 407 ETR must have been taking some PR lessons, plus I think they made a deal with the Ontariario guvment, because a couple of weeks ago, with great fanfare they introduced their ETR rewards program.

It's a complicated piece of business. And really not much of a reward. Have a look below:

ETR Rewards is our way of thanking you for choosing to use Highway 407 ETR.

Using 407 ETR is a great way to skip ahead of congestion and get home faster. Now, it will also earn you great rewards!

And, unlike other rewards programs, there is no membership fee or sign-up process.

When You Qualify:

We will contact you by mail when eligible for ETR Rewards. The letter will outline:

• what tier you are in;
• your free monthly kilometres; and
• monthly gas savings using your ETR Rewards Gas Card (included with the letter).

In addition, your monthly 407 ETR bill will highlight your total savings on tolls and remaining free kilometres.

Eligibility:

To be eligible for ETR Rewards, you must:

• use a light vehicle transponder;
• have no outstanding balance greater than 35 days; and
• travel at least 400 kilometres per month on 407 ETR during the qualifying six-month period.

Tiers:

There are four tiers in the program, which are based on the average number of transponder kilometres driven on 407 ETR. Each tier offers a set amount of free weekend kilometres and savings on gasoline purchases.

Drive more, save more! Accounts will be assessed every six months to determine if they qualify for the program and if so, for which tier. The Program phases extend from February to July 2007, and August 2007 to January 2008. At the end of each period, customers will be advised of their tier status for the next period of the program.

Drive more, save more! Four tiers. Transponder kilometres. Assessment every six months. Free weekend kilometres. (Lovely, since most people use the 407 during the week. It's called commuting!) Excuse me while I call my accountant to figure this out for me.

I do admit that the Gas Rewards is legit -- 3 cents off per litre -- but the number of litres you're eligible for is also determined by how many kilometres you've driven.

OK. It's all good. 407 got good press. HWSRN, who uses the highway regularly got his wish. He always said he wanted the 407 to give the regular customers a bonus. They're the ones paying the shareholders' dividends, after all. He got his notice of bonus. He got his Gas Rewards card. He registered. He signed up. He got 3 cents off. So he was pleased. For a second.

Last week his bill came in the mail. At the top of the bill, it says this:

Effective February 1, 2007, new toll rates and fees will apply.

How can you not be happy? We all get our reward...in the end.

Maiden Voyage

HWSRN tells me he and the new van (still not definitely named) just completed their first paid run. On a Sunday night. 121 kilometres to Hawgtown and back.

He sez it was smooth sailing all the way.






He sez the 6 cylinder V-Tec responds like a racehorse.









He sez the transmission shifts slick as a whistle.












He sez he can probably come up with clichés all night long. (The first is a metaphor. The second is a simile. The third is a lot of hot air.)



C,mon, I said "simile" not "smiley".


I sez if he keeps it up he'll join me here at the Yoni School. They'll put him in ze coolah, tie him up and give him a clichectomy before he can say "Jack Kerouac".








HWSRN sez the size difference is noticeable. Inside. Wider. Longer. Faster. Further. Size matters. HWSRN is becoming visibly agitated. Time to put him in the cold shower.



HWSRN sez he made enough to cover about half of his first loan payment. Only 103 more to go.

Change of the Guard

Out with the old...

















...In with the new.










Minnie Van Nice is being sent out pasture after an intense and productive career on the mad highways of southern Ontariario. 670,000 kilometres worth. Even at that, she still runs pretty well, and it was a shame to let her go. But the body just wasn't holding up. Still, HWSRN is sorry that the photo shows her in such a salty and dusty state, because she actually looks pretty good when she's fresh out of the carwash.

The new van has no name. Perhaps you would like to name her/him. It's a 2003 Oddity, with just over 80,000k, which is rather remarkable in itself, if you ask me. Bigger inside, cuz the second row of seats comes right out, unlike Minnie where they just folded up. This bodes more and possibly heavier work. HWSRN thinks the guy who sold it to him (and also sold Minnie to him) thought it was a little too extravagant for courier work...electric side doors, electric everything...but HWSRN insists if he has to live in his vehicle, he wants it comfy.

So there they are, the Road Warriors, the old soldier and the new recruit. Send your suggestions for a name.

BTW, you'll notice the prevalence of snow. Winter arrived late in Lunchbucket, but since it came, we've had just as much as we would have anyway.

Adventures in Modern Recording

I did some recording for a children's songwriter tonight. Four songs. Another two to go. Maybe three. An exercise in leaving one's ego at the door.

One of the songs was a ballad. I used a rich, mellow sound for the tune. Practising it the last couple of days, I had worked out a short phrase that repeated throughout the song. The rest was a bit of an improvisation. I was quite pleased with the effect. Pleased with myself. Of the four songs, this was the one I liked the most, as I had worked it out in my head.

The boss wasn't quite as impressed. After the first take, he came over to me and asked for something different. Nothing to do but give him what he wanted and let go of the little phrase that had pleased me so much. That take is still there, but I doubt that he'll use much of it.