Barn Music

Barn Music

Last night I had the pleasure of barmping my horn at the barn with a whole bunch of great musicians. It seems like half the audience was carrying an instrument of some sort.

The barn is an adult version of the tree-fort. It's situated on the outskirts of town with not a lot of neighbours. It's a nondescript looking place with not a lot of lights or fanfare to announce it. Once inside however, the barn shows it's true form. Our genial host has a small stage and a PA system set up in the corner for regular jam sessions. On the opposite side there is a well stocked bar that sees it's fair share of customers, escpecially last night. Signs and posters deck every available wall and ceiling surface. If you every wonder why the road signage budget is so high, you'll find your answers here.

The real attraction is the stage. I arrived to find a trio of musicians on guitar, keyboard and drums. Being the shameless opportunist, I quickly unpacked my horn and joined them for a few numbers. We played everything from a few Santana tunes to a nameless jam on a simple set of chord changes. It fell together wonderfully, and sounded great. The best thing was, all the musicians could play a few tunes, and then get off the stage to make room for another bunch of players to take over. There were 7 or 8 really good guitarists to choose from, and there was a pleasant variety of styles and tunes to listen to. If only we could convince them not to play "Mustang Sally" and "Turn the Page" one more time. My pal Darren calls me a "Jam Whore", and he's probably right. Being the only sax player, I got up three or four times to play, and still had lots of opportunity to sit back and enjoy the rest.

If you're a musician, a jam session is a way to test yourself by sitting in with players you've never met to make something happen. You either get up and play, or get out of the way and let someone else do their thing. There's no room for fakers and wannabes. Even the strange man with a djembe offstage in the corner got up and played the kit drum for a bit when called upon. The only drawback during the whole situation is the multitude of cigarette smokers fouling the air while I was trying to play my wind instrument. Some people just don't get it. If you need breath to make a sound, it's pretty hard with a cigarette smouldering away beside you. I finally gave up, and cleared the stage for another musician to do his thing. It was about time because his loving girlfriend wanted to hear him play, and it took a while for him to get up and find a place on the stage.

As John Lennon sang, "A splendid time is guaranteed for all."

Bill Maher at Massey Hall

I had the pleasure of seeing Bill Maher perform at Massey Hall this past evening. His act is very political, and he still pulls no punches when it comes to expressing his opinion. I got the distinct impression that the tour was just starting, and he was working out on a favourable audience. I think most Canadians are anti-Bush, and Mr. Maher certainly is. It was like a preacher delivering a sermon to the converted, with a lot less reverence.

There are no sacred cows, and his rant covered many topical issues. I am glad to hear that he's taking potshots at the current situation of church and state in the White House. Like a lot of people on either side of the border, I'm very uncomfortable with the pandering that the Republicans have been performing for the evangelical types. Seems to me that Bush will even lie to them, even though he professes to share their faith. I am beginning to think the US of Canada versus JesusLand cartoon is truer than we may care to believe.

Bill Maher is an articulate man when he isn't swearing. At the same time, his use of expletives was almost necessary considering the subject matter. If I had the same public profile I know I'd be saying the same things. I'm glad that men like Bill Maher, Jon Stewart and our own Rick Mercer are able to practice their incisive and now necessary craft of political humour. It looks like the supposed news media has given up the investigative aspects of their job, and have relegated the task to comedians. It may come to the point where the audiences may not know whether to laugh or cry if this keeps up.

Royal Winter Fair 2004 - World Record Fudge

World Record Fudge - mmmmmmm

The Royal Winter Fair is here. All the critters and vegetables are being brought from the country to our fair city once again. I have just had another piece of the world record slab of fudge. It was worth every calorie.

I spent a bit of time watching the Clydesdale horses being judged. Now if you ask me what criteria you would use to judge these horses, I'd be way off base. The horse that I thought looked the best only came in sixth. It stood tall and had a handsome coat. It's gait was even and smooth when it was paraded around the ring. It was disciplined and manageable. What's not to like when the horse is quite capable of running amok with not much to stop it, except for a small human? It's a mystery to me. The only thing I understand is the love and hard work that the competitors put into it.

The first place pumpkin weighed 1093 pounds. It didn't do any tricks like the horses. It just sat there and made people gawk in amazement. That's what prize winning pumpkins do.

I went to the second floor of the building and saw the prize winning chickens, ducks and pigeons. Noisy beggars. The prize must be awarded based on the plumage and the decibals of squawk emanating from the bird.

All in all, the Royal Winter Fair is always worth a visit, even if it is noisy, smells like crap and costs a little too much money. It's only once a year.

Captain Peach Navigates the French River with his loyal first mate and photographer, Liam C.

Everything's Peachy

"Having seen dung beetles, I'm kind of ashamed of what I want in life" Don Peachy

Peach died yesterday afternoon. Like far too many people, he died too young. The wonders of modern medicine made his last few months comfortable, and I think from my frequent visits that he was never in any serious pain. He was an enigmatic fellow. Whenever anyone asked how he was, he would reply "just Peachy". The capital P is mine, but I'd like to think he was inferring it.

I was introduced to Don on the occasion of his fortieth birthday party. It was a raucous affair, and we made a colossal noise in the basement with Don playing his bitchen set of Ludwigs, Earl on his telecaster, and Mike on some kind of keyboard. I got to barmp my horn for the first time with one of the most creative musicians I've ever had the pleasure of jamming with. Later that evening, Mike stuck a video camera in my face and asked me what I thought of the the birthday boy. I replied "I hardly know the man!".

I am fortunate that I came to know him. Don, Earl and I played music every week for almost 8 years. We had a rapport. After that amount of time we were very quick on our feet when it came to improvising. Lia and Larry joined up and we became the world famous Composters. Famous in Keady and Noelville Ontario I guess. Large amounts of it were pretty weird, but every once in a while, we could come up with something that deserved to be recorded because of the quality of expression. Playing music has got to be one of the best ways to really know a person. Don knew this.

Like most people, he was full of contradictions. He could play the fool, but he suffered fools badly. He was quite capable of the most base humour, but he could match wits with the best. He was a trader in things both tangible and intangible. Material and ideas. He had modest ambitions but great dreams. He only wanted a small corner of the world, but he wanted to conquer it nonetheless. He had an inquisitive mind, full of both useful and arcane knowledge. And yet, he could wink and say "I'm just a dumb Postie. What Do I know?"

Dung beetles get their shit together. Don did too.

MC Escher's "Puddle"