fire's burning

When PaSheff first came to me about this evening's activity, he touted it as "kumbia and beyond"- an evening of campfire reflection". Ok, maybe that's not what he said, but in my mind, that's what I figure he meant. 

We took over the Bean... took over... to the point that I even emailed Sue (the owner) and asked her to make an evening special to be served... s'mores with hot chocolate.... she came thru.

The stage was shared by a group of us, Jim Yates (whom I love... the same man that convinced me to buy my guitar... yeah... the guitar I don't play... BUT fully intend to) Shamus, Derrick Ballard (he of the Gene McLelland tribute concert forever ago- also of "the gentlemen husbands" - great band) Roy (security man Roy from SVFF), and some boys from Derrick's band. The guys all came baring guitars (well.. other than Mr.Yates, who also brought his auto harp). I took the evening in a slightly different direction ... 

The guys started their music, and sang lovely folk type songs, the type any campfire would have, covers of country... that sort of thing.... 

And then I turned it into summer camp.

Not even kidding. Call and repeat, action, and interaction songs. High energy. 

I felt like I was at the ranch- I spent 9 years working at that camp... 9 summers of camp songs- 5 of those, leading the camp fires... I could have gone on all night.

The two best compliments I got were from the older crowd. "I felt like I was back at summer camp" was the first, and the second was from Mr.Yates himself... PaSheff asked him if he'd be interested in doing another campfire night, to which he replied "Only if L.Bo is doing it".

ok. he didn't call me elbow.

Did I mention we packed the place? Standing room only at the back- people sitting on the floor. I'd do it again.

Also met one of the two boys who have been lurking the Bean lately. The one that has been stealing my favourite seat.

too much

Last night I hit the Lawless gallery for a triple mix of Aengus Finnan (yay!) Catherine Maclellan and Tanya Davis. Now, the last time I saw Catherine was at the Oasis, and the sound mix was awful and I was SO distracted by it I had to focus hard on what was being played... but last night, I got to do the board... for all three, so I was quite content.

Anyway, that's not what I wanted to write about!

Two weeks ago, driving the 28 home, I was (as per my usual routine) listening to the Vinyl Cafe on CBC, but it was a little different... instead of the show on the road, Stuart was in the studio, doing a program on "Sad songs". The idea being, that if you hear a really sad song, it'll just make you feel a little better. I agreed, so I kept listening. That was the day that the sun was blinding me all the way home...

A little Leonard was played, and then Stuart said something to the effect of "sometimes a song that sounds happy can be one of the saddest of them all" and launched into the story behind Gene Maclellan's depression and how "Snowbird" reflected him the best of all his songs... The cheery song came on the radio... and while I listened to it and thought about the sadness of the song (and his eventual suicide) I started to get a little weepy... The song ended and Stuart said just a few lines... about Catherine (his daughter) and how she must have been thinking about her dad as she wrote the next song...
That next song was one she wrote about her dad, and there's a line in it about putting his records on to listen to them, when that line was sung I started to cry...
All I could think about was the powerful painful process that is behind song... behind poetry... behind putting your most intimate thought onto paper or playing it out loud.
I thought about who would be listening to the songs, to even just that program that day... what if... what if Catherine were listening to that program? Would she hurt more over hearing the stories and songs played together? Or would it be healing, knowing that others could feel along with her? I resolved then and there that I was NEVER going to write a song down again... something so personal... so... entirely open.. so ... *sigh*
Then a letter was read... a letter about Tanya's new Cd, and a piece was played called Sadness.* By the end I was still so upset by the fact that words are so powerful, but I knew I'd better get a new pen.

.... put down my handkerchief, for a pen with good ink flow and then
put down a new poem and then something insightful..... make it worth my while.

*also listen to "Art"... it just confirms it.

RGM Concert

I just went for a nice walk on the beach. it's sad that there was no one there... I guess the ice keeps people away.
I sat for awhile on one of the benches and just listened to the waves hitting the ice. It was so peaceful. I could have stayed there all night.
Last night was the "Remembering Gene MacLellan" concert. David Sheff put it on, it was really, really good.
I was dubbed "culturally illiterate" by David prior to that evening, but I think one of my favorite things was that nearly all the performers admitted to not knowing who Gene was before Dave approached them with the concept. (Gene wrote greats such as "snowbird" "put your hand in the hand" and "the call") (yeah, I had no idea...)
There was some serious talent there... Ian and Cara Jack (my new favorites) Al Kirby, Jim Yates, Ted Staunton (Port Hope hero, and story book writer, Derrick Ballard and "Northumberland Idol" Brittany Armstrong ... oh, and pretty much the entire Sheffield family.
During the coffee break Beth glances over and says "did you see who came?" I look up in time to see Aengus sauntering over to us. (anything underlined is a link guys) I blush, turn stupid and am unable to utter another syllable for the remainder of the evening. Beth launches into a conversation with him about the coming folk festival and how it WILL be different. I consider kicking her or planting my elbow in her ribs in order to be introduced... but fade into the background instead when David joins into the conversation. Spend the rest of the evening trying to find a break in which to say something ANYTHING (volunteer for the valley Fest?)... the moment arrives... and passes... I just smile at him instead.
Other than my freakazoidness... I had a great time, and I'm developing a great love for banjos.