Dunvegan’s Wagon Wheel

Old Crow Medicine Show @ Olympic Hall.  Halifax, NS  May 31st. 2013

It was hot as hell in Halifax this weekend; the weather wasn’t bad either.  Live music held the hottest tickets in town and I was one of the devilish denizens to partake.  Allow me to share with you my harmonious adventures.

Friday night, Old Crow Medicine Show rolled into Halifax for the first time on their tour bus adorned with a makeshift clothes line in the Olympic Hall’s parking.  An American string band based in Nashville, Tennessee, Old Crow are revered for their old-time bluegrass slash folk slash alt country flavor.  Most know them from the run-away adoration of ‘Wagon Wheel’ – there have been many a night in bars where that song became the sing-along anthems for beer slugging partiers; every night in fact.  But, OCMS are so much more than the vibe of one beloved song.

In his review in the Chronicle Herald, entertainment reporter Stephen Cooke said they ‘blow hot like a train whistle’.  Boy, do they ever.  Friday’s show, the Olympic Hall, decorated in strung mason jars and low hanging chandeliers, was sold out to an adoring crowd hell bent on whiskey and having a rip-snorting good time.

The seven piece band complete with banjo, dobro, mandolin, fiddle, upright bass and harmonies that put you in the stories their lyrics tell, had music lovers hooting and hollering, stomping and jigging.  There wasn’t a bum that wasn’t wiggling, I kid you not.

They played some of my favorite songs in their discography including, ‘Humdinger’, ‘Carry Me Back’, ‘Alabama High Test’, ‘Mary’s Kitchen’ and of course, they ended their infectious show with ‘Wagon Wheel’.  It was their encore though that garnered the most cheers and audience participation.  The boys returned to the stage and broke out into ‘Barrett’s Privateers’, a hometown staple, a song we’ve heard thousands of times but never as affecting and as awe-inspiring as their rendition.  They floored the already electrified crowd and for those few minutes we Maritimers were melded together in musical solidarity.  The heat may have been sweltering but the music was hotter.  Just ask anyone who was there, they’ll back me up.

I didn’t see a lot of the opening act, Shakey Graves.  He, Alejandro Rose Garcia, entertained the sold out hall, warming us up for the main attraction with bluesy honky tonk delights.  Just one guy, with an acoustic guitar and a kick drum and what I’m guessing are a lot of really great songs.  I wish I had seen more.

I had a blast getting sweaty, drinking beer, singing and dancing with my friends.  If you missed it, you missed out on something really special.  A little bit of bluegrassy fun is good for the soul.

The Stanfields, Casino NS.  Halifax, NS.  June 1st, 2013

If you think my Friday night was a time, you should have been at Casino NS with me for what may just be my favorite show of the year thus far.  The Stanfields are fast becoming, in my opinion, one of the best bands to ever emerge from the East Coast of Canada, right up there with Matt Mays.  I’ve seen them play a handful of times and each time I do they just get better and better and faster and more fantastic. 

The band from ‘up the hill’ sauntered casually on stage, strapped on their instruments and broke into a thunderous set of raucous rock ‘n’ roll fused brilliantly and meticulously with a traditional sound that they play effortlessly.  The Stanfields have an uncanny ability to open their audience up to an experience, to let loose, to get lost in the sounds and the energy that passes back and forth between the stage and the floor.  Their shows are interactive and if not for the ear splitting decibel of their rocking I have my suspicion their hardcore fans would righteously out-sing them.

One of the things I love most about any live show is the sing-a-long aspect.  I love when a room full of people so in love with a piece of music and the artist(s) who make them band together and just wail.  It gives me goose bumps because it always reminds me that in music there is much power; healing power, uniting power, confident power, and religious power.  So many shows feel to me what I imagine it must be like for some to attend church and cull their peace and praise from and for God.  Music is about feeling, movement of the spirit and contentment of the soul, and is just as easily derived from a piece of music performed by someone who radiates belief in their art as it is to attend mass.

The sing-a-long of the night award goes to ‘Crocodile Tears’ (which I am still humming from my work desk this foggy Monday morning).  The entire Schooner room full of Stanfield fans joined voices and swayed with their beers raised and their eyes closed belting out the heartbreaking break-up song with so much feeling I may or may not have wept a tiny bit.  That power, you know?

I have a lot of respect for The Stanfields.  They have worked so hard to achieve the successes they are currently enjoying and the ones they still readily deserve.  They are true, humble artists with a passion for music and the essence of rock in their guts.  Their show Saturday night left me smiling, with a happy heart and a ringing in my ears.  And, that I’m still humming this morning is a true reflection of the stellar time that was had.  I can’t wait see them again and if they roll into your town, go.  You won’t be disappointed.  They really do rule.  They will be world famous.

Opening for them were Town Heroes and Carleton Stone, excellent bands both.  It was my first time seeing Town Heroes and my second time seeing Carleton Stone.  I was quite impressed with the dimpled front man and his band.  I can’t recall my first impression when I saw them open for The Stanfields last year but they definitely caught my attention this time.  I look forward to hearing his/their new record.

In short, this weekend was amaze-balls.  Music rules. I hope however you spent yours it was just as inspiring and fulfilling as mine.

Happy Monday, folks.

In propinquity,

Nic

The Stanfields' view of the crowd.  Halifax rules.

Turn The Lights On

It was a last minute decision to take in Big Sugar’s Halifax show Friday, a whim that turned out to be one hell of a night.  Returning to the Olympic Hall, the same space where I saw the Sheepdogs felt like déjà vu.  Only two of us this time, we entered the venue, got our Sonic Concert bracelet, grabbed a beer and advanced to the front of the room.  We arrived a bit later than last time so we were just parking ourselves front row center for the opening act, The Balconies.  I think they are an Ontario band but don’t quote me, fronted by a sister/brother duo and backed by a friend.  They delivered a vigorous and earsplitting set of songs to a somewhat older crowd than I remember from the previous show.  Perhaps it has more to do with Big Sugar’s appeal and their longevity?  One can only surmise.

Suffice it to say, due to the ferocious delivery of their set, I had a difficult time deciphering one song from the other not that I’m versed at all when it comes to their discography.  As it was intended, they were loud and brash and unapologetic.  I confess I spent very little time watching the brother and friend contingent of the band because Jacquie Neville was riveting.  Mix the rock ‘n’ roll attitude of Juliette Lewis when she’s on stage with The Kicks, the sex of Peaches and a dash of Katy Perry pretty and you have a potent front woman.  Her antics scream metal, her attire of black shiny tights, a cut off tiger tee and white 80s ankle boots with blood red lips accenting her wide blue eye and jet black hair that she swung expertly as she crunched her guitar bellows girl power and later her cutesy  back-up singing swing softened her demeanor some.

I found the mix of their sound incredibly painful.  It was all high end no vocal.  The sheer volume and the close proximity to the stage may have contributed.  While I was rapt visually, sonically I was not.  It seemed more like indecipherable noise which can be good when you know what you’re listening to but musically it the set didn’t hold a lot of weight for me.  I was secretly pleased when they were finished.

During the quick stage reset I could feel the room fill up behind me without having to look.  The heat was mounting quickly.  I was grateful that I opted to wear a t-shirt despite the freezing temperature and bone numbing wind chill outside.

Tom Bedell took the stage and amped up the ripe crowd to introduce Big Sugar on the second last stop of their ‘Eliminate YA’ tour.  One by one, the band took the stage, the roar of hands pounding together and hoots and whistles brought smiles to their laid back faces.  According to Tom Bedell, Gordie Johnson visited the Q104 Hunger Strike earlier that day in Mic Mac Mall (a fundraiser for the pending holidays) and he saved his voice for the show because he was really sick and was determined to give his all.  He was indeed visibly mill but it didn’t stop him from blowing all of us away with what he does best.

I’m a really big fan of Big Sugar’s unique blend of rock, blues and reggae.   Despite the earthy sounds of dingy blues bars and Jah love, to me, they sound distinctly Canadian.   Let it be noted that Big Sugar are also the loudest band I’ve ever witnessed live.  Not uncomfortable loud like their openers, but rather a massive wall of delicious sound with deep penetrating layers of funky wallpaper.

The two hour show was deluged with popular Big Sugar standards, often bookended by blues breaks, raps and funk.  During the course of the show Gordie was able to show off a parade of loud guitars, the stuff of fan boy’s wet dreams.  They were beautiful and generated sounds that could only be conjured from his adept fingers.

 (Big Sugar rockin' it in Halifax)

I got lost in the show.  Being front row center watching Gordie’s hands play like he does, feeling the kick drum in my teeth, so close to the monitors striped with red, green and yellow duct tape that many of the details absorbed into my skin instead of into my memory.  I loved it so much I literally forgot where I was and felt like the music was an extension of me.  I know it sounds corny but that’s how I felt.

I can share with you, two highlights. 

‘All Hell For a Basement’ is my all-time favorite Big Sugar song.  I’ve heard it covered in bars all over this great city but nothing truly compared to hearing it from its source.  To add more magic to the song, it was one of the ones where the crowd out-sung the band.  Gordie raised his microphone stand and held it over the sea of singing faces, closed his eyes and smiled so contented and mouthed, ‘I love that sound.’  I was overwhelmed by emotion in that moment and felt tears spring to my eyes.  I managed to swallow them down to avoid looking like a nerd but I was awash with emotion.  To me, those are the most profound moments of a live show, when everyone is so connected by music, in unison, such a beautiful thing.

Gordie then shredded his way through a gripping rendition of ‘O Canada’ on 12 string, it doesn’t get any more patriotic than that.  In the last strains of the guitar laden execution, he raised his axe to rest behind his head revealing a proud Canadian flag on the underneath.  The crowd, primarily made up of the band’s male counterparts, thundered with approval.  It’s such an honour to be from such a grand country full of talented kinfolk.

(The Moncton show but you get the idea)

In short, in case you didn’t catch it, Big Sugar were dynamite.  They promoted love, rock ‘n’ roll and the power of positive ahem … smoking.  This all confirmed by the sheer number of weed that showered the stage from fists flinging it forward.  With the smell of incense and marijuana wafting through the air, it was one hell of a high.

The end of the show was something I hadn’t encountered before.  Gordie came down from the stage and graciously accepted accolades from everyone in the front row.  I was content with my fist bump while my concert buddy rallied for the set-list that was being peeled from the stage floor.  I am used to seeing the ladies surging forward grasping for the opportunity to get backstage but this night I was literally crushed against the barricade by a sausage fest trying desperately to catch Gordie’s attention, to be heard, to have a photo taken, to have their moment.  This was unfortunate for me because I’m only small and these guys were full of muscles, testosterone and intention.  I came away with a slight ache and a light bruise across my rib cage.  Oy vey.  Boys.

And again, up until this point, Big Sugar have been the loudest band I’ve seen live.  My ears clogged over to protect themselves and I could still feel the reverb fluttering around in my chest en route home.  Fun level and blissed out range = eleven on a scale of one to ten.

I never wanted them to turn the lights on.  I could have grooved all night.  So glad we went. 

Gordie Johnson is a Canadian treasure.  Big Sugar is da bomb.

It's Monday.  It's also a new month!  I can't believe it's December already.  Whoa.

Go easy.

In propinquity,

Nic

Beautifully Scripted

Last night’s Left Bank reading for the December launch of Open Heart Forgery was fantastical.  There was nowhere else in the world I would have wanted to be on a cold November night.  I was quite content, with a cup of hot green tea, with friends and the words of so many talented writers to warm my bones. 

It was a lovely crowd, some constants and a few new faces which for me is always exciting because it means I’m inching closer to being a constant instead of a newbie and it also means that Donal’s brilliant idea in creating OHF is reaching people, especially writers who are ready to share their work.  It’s a beautiful thing.

I always come away from those readings so richly fulfilled, as a person and a creative.  There is something so liberating and satisfying about word-play and hearing them come out of your own mouth after having them shoot out from your fingertips onto the page.  It was also nice to have my friend Colleen and her sister Laura come by.  The moral support is always welcome as when my best friend Erica attended in the past.  There is always an added element of ease when you look up from the podium and you can feel the back of your neck burning from being in the spotlight and someone you love and who loves you is there for you.  Means a lot to me, makes the writing life seem less solitary.

I am constantly grateful to Donal for this whole experience.

Tonight marks a last minute return to The Dirty O for Big Sugar’s show with my new concert buddy.  I’m pushing through this day after a long but lovely week only to end up on the receiving end of Gordie Johnson’s wall of sound.  Bring it ON.  I won’t be able to hear a thing tomorrow I’m sure but their live shows are outstanding.  Beats sitting home watching TV.

Speaking of Gords I love, I wrote the following poem for one of my favorite Canadians, Gord Downie (of Tragically Hip fame who I am SO pumped to see in February) after reading his profound volume of poetry, Coke Machine Glow.  It seems to be the appropriate verse to share with a rock show pending tonight.

Beautifully Scripted

(for Gord Downie)

When you sing I take notes.

I am awake in your movie

the subject of protest & censure

charting the erratic behavior of blackflies

against a stretched stain of summer.

I am on display

left alone before a crowd of

possessive Phantoms to explain

the rape of envy

all while maintaining a smile

through stern reprimands.

I am reading poetry aloud

in an empty bar-room

crude with artistic quality

this is bottom, friend.

Poet,

you are beautifully y scripted

I want to break in two

& become you.

You are exquisite.

**

(Sidenote:  If you aren’t aware of Big Sugar or Tragically Hip for their musical awesome-ness, please do yourself a giant favor and investigate.)

Happy Friday, friendly readers!   Don’t forget to be good to yourself and kind to others.

In propinquity,

Nic

Sheepdogs Cometh

It amazes me that as I sit here every day plugging away at a mundane day job that some folks actually make a living playing music.  They are fortunate to be able to make money pursuing their passion.  Isn’t that a novel idea?  I think so.  Lucky are those who don’t have to subsidize their passion with menial work to pay the bills to be able to afford the time to do the REAL work.

Last night, a Tuesday and a proverbial school night, I ventured into the bustling metropolis of Halifax with my friend Colleen and her son Dustin to see the Sheepdogs with Yukon Blonde opening at the Dirty O. I confess I bought the Sheepdogs second self-titled release but didn’t listen to it much.  I purchased it mostly because I was obsessed with their single ‘The Way It Is’ but nothing else really grabbed me.  My second confession is that because nothing inspired repeat listens I forgot I even had it until Colleen asked me to go to the show and even then I didn’t listen to it much, mostly because I was busy or distracted or an even combination of both. 

The idea of seeing them live appealed mostly because I’ve proven to myself time and again that often when an artist’s work isn’t holding my attention from my stereo, when presented live, I tend to come away with a completely different perspective.  I proved my own theory once again.

En route home from work I got really pumped thinking about attending a live, sweaty, smoke-laden show at the Dirty O.  It was something to look forward to after waking up only to realize my alarm hadn’t sounded and I literally had one minute to get dressed, brush my teeth and get out the door to work.  I was in a panic but managed to get where I needed to be on time without forgetting my lunch.  Arriving home, I enjoyed a much needed shower and polish and plunked myself down for a date with iTunes before hitting the road.  I listened to the whole Sheepdogs record and turned to youtube to have one last listen to Yukon Blonde’s ‘Stairway’ (because I’m obsessed with that song too!) before taking it in up close and personal.

Once at the Dirty O, early enough to beat the crowd that would swell behind us, we checked our tickets, got our trusty wrist band, paid a visit to the bar for warm beer and then the merch table so I could grab the new Yukon Blonde CD (purchased right out of the hand of the guitar player) and we took our place for the show and somehow ended up in the front row right against the barricade.  Awesome, right!?  Works for me since I’m such a short arse so no one was in front of be to obstruct my view of the rock ‘n’ roll goings on.

Yukon Blonde catapulted into their set with a wave of boundless energy.  From Kelowna, BC they delivered their unique brand of indie rock to an appreciative crowd, approval resounding brassier and bigger with each song played.  I was shaking what my mama gave me and maybe a little bit more for ‘Stairway’.  I was really impressed with their cohesive sound and their obvious appetite for playing music.  A touring band is a good band.  They are just another example of that.  I don’t know the title of the song they ended their set with but it started off moody and melodic, lowly lit with blue hues.  Instrumental homage if you will, its crescendo climbed so slowly and languidly that it teased the senses.  You could feel it, the calm before the storm and the giant wall of sound that would result.  It came, washing over the crowd and ending in thunderous applause.  I hope they visit us more often.

(Sidenote:  I am obviously an observer and I find the whole music scene on stageand backstage fascinating, mechanics, set-up  et al.  What I really loved about last night is seeing various members of the Sheepdogs camped stage-side watching their Yukon Blonde brothers play like their lives depended on it.  It’s camaraderie, it is respect.  I really dig/dug that.)

Next, a brief intermezzo to break down Yukon Blonde’s gear, as meager as it was (I mused while looking around the stage before they came on and had no idea they had their own drums because it was so small and hidden behind the Sheepdogs kit).  The road crew busied themselves with the business of sound, smoke machinery and superlative musical instrument precision and perfection.  Checking guitars and carefully lining up cold cans of Heineken.   Rock ‘n’ roll is a thirsty business after all.  During this time, I enjoyed banter with my concert cohorts, fought with the tracking ball in my Black Berry (upgrade coming soon) and jammed a little to the overhead music.  I’m pretty sure the last song we heard was something Creedence as I recall John Fogerty’s voice but it was soon squashed by a raucous roar of welcome when the Sheepdog guys took the stage, picked up their guitars, sticks and tambourines and tore into their set. 

You know what I love about the Sheepdogs?  I’ll tell you – while the music business becomes bogged down with music made by computers and strung together dance-beats (which of course have their place) the Sheepdogs harken back to a time when music was simple and honest and earthy.  Their groovy, laid back brand of boogie-woogie southern rock made me feel like I was standing in a frame of Cameron Crowe’s film (incidentally my all-time favorite flick) ‘Almost Famous’, like an acid flashback to the 1970s.  The Sheepdogs could easily have been on the bill with Stillwater.  I got caught up in the feel-goodery  conjured up by Leot Hanson’s blistering guitar solos, Sam Corbett’s punchy drum assaults, Ryan Gullen’s impressive bass lines, smooth organ sounds and even a little brass by way of trombone.  While I may have found Leot to be mesmerizing to watch, Ewan Currie was the capital.  He commanded the audience with ease, his smoky pipes and deft skills ruled.  I was also (unfortunately) the recipient of a generous spray of Leot’s saliva that flew from his mouth, one of the non-perks of front row.  I hope I’m not pregnant.

(Photo taken by the folks at Q104.  My head is directly under the bass player's knee.)

I don’t have any complaints about the show except for they gave up ‘The Way It Is’ really early in their show considering it’s such a smash hit right now.  It’s a short ditty on the record and felt like it flew by even faster live, likely because I love it so much.  I wish they had extended it, added a solo or a booga-loo to make it last longer.  When I first heard the song on the radio I was thinking, “Gee, that sounds Black Keys-ish.”  Turns out my ear is still keen, Patrick Carney, the Black Keys drummer assisted them in the studio.  Coolness.

It is safe to say that the coolest part of the show was the encore.  When the Dogs returned to the stage, they invited Jeff Innes from Yukon Blonde out and then surprised the blissed out crowd by welcoming our one and only, Matt Mays to the stage too for a rousing sing-a-long of The Band’s ‘The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down’. 

‘The night they drove old Dixie down

and the people were singing …’

Oh, and they were singing.

It was further accelerated when Yukon Blonde guitarist Brandon Scott (the dude I bought my CD from) climbed up on the barricade looking to crowd surf.  With a little help from a few of my friends we gave him a giant boost and watched him coast over a sea of eager hands until he disappeared.  Hope he made it out.

I left the venue feeling revitalized and sanctified by the powers of rock ‘n’ roll, happy to have shared a killer show with my good friend and her uber-cool spawn.  For a band I knew so little about, they really impressed me. 

No poetry today.  It’s all about the rock show.  I feel like I have smoker’s lung today.  The fog machine was in full steam and I still have a bit of a cold lingering so sometimes my voice gets squeaky.

In rock, we sacrifice.

All for now, keep on rockin’ in the free world.

In propinquity,

Nic