Good stuff!
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Penner's Pose
Okay, we know tour is loooong over, and Penner now lives in Winnipeg, buuuuuut!! we thought it would be nice to share this little "pic" or "pose" for yous.
Good stuff!
Good stuff!
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Dessert.
Hey folks, for more on our interesting or otherwise adventures this summer, check out Jer Penner's blog at http://wallowwallow.blogspot.com/. Cheers.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
East Past, West Next
The Continuation of “Murphy’s Law, Part One: The first two days.”
PART TWO of TWO: That day, and after that.
I’m at Mathieu’s house in Quebec City. I think he owns or manages la Ninkasi, which we played two evenings ago—Monday. It’s only been in business 8 months, so they couldn’t pay us but, as a sort of payment, Mat put us up at his place for two nights. Great deal! Ash and I camped in the backyard, because the place itself is rather small.
Things are looking up now. Last night’s show at l’Agité was particularly encouraging. We opened for a band that had a huge natural draw and over 50 people heard us play, and loved us, going wild even for I’ll Fly Away and cheering for an encore. We need a few shows like that to keep us going. Apparently word got around that we’re Christians because Eisenhauer mentioned that he and Sheree were married; I had no idea marriage was so uncommon.
Penner & Eisenhauer at l'Agité
Perhaps I should get caught up on what happened in Montréal before I get ahead of myself. It’s a little funny now, but it was the most frustrating day of my life, maybe. The pain is fading now. Last I wrote, we were on our way to Montréal after an incredible amount of van trouble during the hottest week ever with no showers in the last 3 days and none in sight either. We arrived at Zeke’s Gallery around 5:00 p.m.: two and a half hours late, but still plenty of time to set up and sound check for the 7:30 show (“sharp”). An interesting fellow, this Zeke. Very particular about the way things must be done, very up front about his rigidity, very straight-shooting. But he was willing to go forward with the show, even though we were so late—although the recording would have to be shelved, as he figured there was no time for that. I’ve decided just now to make this as quick as possible: we set up, and Zeke asked us if we expected at least ten people. We didn’t really think so, but maybe. If there weren’t going to be ten people, maybe we should think about calling it off, and save ourselves the trouble. I point out that all the trouble we might go to is already behind us: we have come through hell, we are here, we might as well play. Sound check. He informs us that we sound terrible, muddy, too much bass. “Thank you!” Sheree and I quip in unison. We turn the bass low and crank Sheree’s vocals ridiculously high, then get out of there for the sake of our sanity. During supper at the pizza place across the street, Mr. Eisenhauer Sr. calls and talks to Jer for a while. Jer is frank about the disaster that is this day. We find out that they will be supplying us with two hotel rooms in downtown Montréal for this night and the next. Our joy is uncontainable; suddenly, we do not care so much about our sorrows. We return to Zeke’s for the show. He reminds us that he needs the addresses and personal information of every band member. This is true; he wrote it in the guidelines. However, his reason was for recording purposes, and this is not happening. Eisenhauer is not having it. A short, tense conversation follows, during which the show is called off. We pack up our instruments in awkward silence as Zeke stands and watches. The Parlour Steps arrive to see our show—they end up helping us carry our instruments back to the trailer. We go for drinks. We find our hotel. It is cool, soft, welcoming; there are showers, couches, beds, TVs, towels… we sleep, and sleep, and consume a free continental breakfast in the morning.
I started to write this a week ago, which feels more like two; the events themselves feel like a month ago… perhaps in fact they were; I never look at a calendar and I rarely know what the date is. Right now it is July 11th. We’re on our way to Dana Honderich’s house somewhere near Stratford, ON, stuck in Toronto freeway traffic. It’s not the worst traffic, actually. There’s just so much of it. We’ve been looking forward to Dana’s house since we were in first in Montréal, I think, and the desire to be somewhere, out of the city, away from traffic, and millions of bodies and vehicles and sounds and smells, back in the country, with its space and silence and room to be whatever you’re in the mood for. To throw a frisbee even. Her parents own two hundred acres and a dairy farm. It will be sublime, I expect.
On our way back west now, we stayed in Montréal for around 4 or 5 nights? A long time in the context of this tour, anyway. A church in the northwest suburbs, Westview Bible Church, was kind enough to let us camp on their grass and use the building for hygiene, cooking, and anything else during the day, and we were grateful. Sadly, it took us forty-five minutes to an hour to get into Montréal, and we did so three days in a row, because we had to catch the Jazzfest. By the end though, Ash & I didn’t want to do anything but sit in the van in the parking lot and read Lilith to each other. And we did. Lilith is my favorite book of all time (it’s by George MacDonald), and it was Ash’s first time reading it. We were on the verge of tears when we reached its conclusion. I would highly recommend it. We did see some class acts at the Jazzfest, such as Winnipeg’s very own Moses Mayes, and the best duo, Brubeck Braid, whom I may have misspelled.
Our hostess, Holly, at the Yellow Door Café
Sheree played an acoustic show at a café called the Yellow Door on the 7th, and it was recorded for the archives. The Yellow Door has some amazing history. Supposedly, Rufus Wainwright and Bruce Cockburn and many more legendary musicians had their beginnings there. She opened for a musician whose name I will not record here because his manner toward us was so embittering that is was comical, and I don’t need to dwell on it any longer. We traded CDs, but left it at the last house we stayed at.
Interlude: we just listened to the Parlour Steps’ Ambiguoso as we drove, and I can’t say enough how catchy this album is. You can’t get it out of your head, not a bad thing.
We left Ottawa today. Last night’s show was not amazingly well-attended, but we played well and sold many CDs to Ben Hoskyn, Simon’s brother. We stayed with one of his friends, Adam, in his brand-newly renovated 1940s-era house. It had a pinball machine. We had originally planned to take advantage of the Parliament’s free tours, but no one had the motivation to leave the house. I think that Penner wrote some new music on the piano with Jer & Sheree.
There are now six weeks left in the tour. Instead of counting up, we have begun to count down. The signs on the freeway say West rather than East, and it comforts us. We talk more often of driving back into the Lower Mainland of BC with dreamy expressions on our faces. Though we all come from different places, it is home to us; much more so than this big lug of a motor home. I’ll probably have dreams about Anoria for months after the tour, however. Dreams where we drive all night and the morning never comes. Dreams where we drive through the breezy prairies and the wind picks us right up off the asphalt and lands us in Oz. Falling asleep in morning light, music and wind mingling with my thoughts and dreams, waking and sleeping again as the sun continues in its appointed track; the smell of Tim Horton’s coffee and gas and propane, Spitz and air fresheners, pillows and cities. We drive and play and drive, an endless cycle, spiraling homewards.
…and there's Finn in a tree at the Honderichs' house.
PART TWO of TWO: That day, and after that.
I’m at Mathieu’s house in Quebec City. I think he owns or manages la Ninkasi, which we played two evenings ago—Monday. It’s only been in business 8 months, so they couldn’t pay us but, as a sort of payment, Mat put us up at his place for two nights. Great deal! Ash and I camped in the backyard, because the place itself is rather small.
Things are looking up now. Last night’s show at l’Agité was particularly encouraging. We opened for a band that had a huge natural draw and over 50 people heard us play, and loved us, going wild even for I’ll Fly Away and cheering for an encore. We need a few shows like that to keep us going. Apparently word got around that we’re Christians because Eisenhauer mentioned that he and Sheree were married; I had no idea marriage was so uncommon.
Penner & Eisenhauer at l'Agité
Perhaps I should get caught up on what happened in Montréal before I get ahead of myself. It’s a little funny now, but it was the most frustrating day of my life, maybe. The pain is fading now. Last I wrote, we were on our way to Montréal after an incredible amount of van trouble during the hottest week ever with no showers in the last 3 days and none in sight either. We arrived at Zeke’s Gallery around 5:00 p.m.: two and a half hours late, but still plenty of time to set up and sound check for the 7:30 show (“sharp”). An interesting fellow, this Zeke. Very particular about the way things must be done, very up front about his rigidity, very straight-shooting. But he was willing to go forward with the show, even though we were so late—although the recording would have to be shelved, as he figured there was no time for that. I’ve decided just now to make this as quick as possible: we set up, and Zeke asked us if we expected at least ten people. We didn’t really think so, but maybe. If there weren’t going to be ten people, maybe we should think about calling it off, and save ourselves the trouble. I point out that all the trouble we might go to is already behind us: we have come through hell, we are here, we might as well play. Sound check. He informs us that we sound terrible, muddy, too much bass. “Thank you!” Sheree and I quip in unison. We turn the bass low and crank Sheree’s vocals ridiculously high, then get out of there for the sake of our sanity. During supper at the pizza place across the street, Mr. Eisenhauer Sr. calls and talks to Jer for a while. Jer is frank about the disaster that is this day. We find out that they will be supplying us with two hotel rooms in downtown Montréal for this night and the next. Our joy is uncontainable; suddenly, we do not care so much about our sorrows. We return to Zeke’s for the show. He reminds us that he needs the addresses and personal information of every band member. This is true; he wrote it in the guidelines. However, his reason was for recording purposes, and this is not happening. Eisenhauer is not having it. A short, tense conversation follows, during which the show is called off. We pack up our instruments in awkward silence as Zeke stands and watches. The Parlour Steps arrive to see our show—they end up helping us carry our instruments back to the trailer. We go for drinks. We find our hotel. It is cool, soft, welcoming; there are showers, couches, beds, TVs, towels… we sleep, and sleep, and consume a free continental breakfast in the morning.
* * *
I started to write this a week ago, which feels more like two; the events themselves feel like a month ago… perhaps in fact they were; I never look at a calendar and I rarely know what the date is. Right now it is July 11th. We’re on our way to Dana Honderich’s house somewhere near Stratford, ON, stuck in Toronto freeway traffic. It’s not the worst traffic, actually. There’s just so much of it. We’ve been looking forward to Dana’s house since we were in first in Montréal, I think, and the desire to be somewhere, out of the city, away from traffic, and millions of bodies and vehicles and sounds and smells, back in the country, with its space and silence and room to be whatever you’re in the mood for. To throw a frisbee even. Her parents own two hundred acres and a dairy farm. It will be sublime, I expect.
On our way back west now, we stayed in Montréal for around 4 or 5 nights? A long time in the context of this tour, anyway. A church in the northwest suburbs, Westview Bible Church, was kind enough to let us camp on their grass and use the building for hygiene, cooking, and anything else during the day, and we were grateful. Sadly, it took us forty-five minutes to an hour to get into Montréal, and we did so three days in a row, because we had to catch the Jazzfest. By the end though, Ash & I didn’t want to do anything but sit in the van in the parking lot and read Lilith to each other. And we did. Lilith is my favorite book of all time (it’s by George MacDonald), and it was Ash’s first time reading it. We were on the verge of tears when we reached its conclusion. I would highly recommend it. We did see some class acts at the Jazzfest, such as Winnipeg’s very own Moses Mayes, and the best duo, Brubeck Braid, whom I may have misspelled.
Our hostess, Holly, at the Yellow Door Café
Sheree played an acoustic show at a café called the Yellow Door on the 7th, and it was recorded for the archives. The Yellow Door has some amazing history. Supposedly, Rufus Wainwright and Bruce Cockburn and many more legendary musicians had their beginnings there. She opened for a musician whose name I will not record here because his manner toward us was so embittering that is was comical, and I don’t need to dwell on it any longer. We traded CDs, but left it at the last house we stayed at.
Interlude: we just listened to the Parlour Steps’ Ambiguoso as we drove, and I can’t say enough how catchy this album is. You can’t get it out of your head, not a bad thing.
We left Ottawa today. Last night’s show was not amazingly well-attended, but we played well and sold many CDs to Ben Hoskyn, Simon’s brother. We stayed with one of his friends, Adam, in his brand-newly renovated 1940s-era house. It had a pinball machine. We had originally planned to take advantage of the Parliament’s free tours, but no one had the motivation to leave the house. I think that Penner wrote some new music on the piano with Jer & Sheree.
There are now six weeks left in the tour. Instead of counting up, we have begun to count down. The signs on the freeway say West rather than East, and it comforts us. We talk more often of driving back into the Lower Mainland of BC with dreamy expressions on our faces. Though we all come from different places, it is home to us; much more so than this big lug of a motor home. I’ll probably have dreams about Anoria for months after the tour, however. Dreams where we drive all night and the morning never comes. Dreams where we drive through the breezy prairies and the wind picks us right up off the asphalt and lands us in Oz. Falling asleep in morning light, music and wind mingling with my thoughts and dreams, waking and sleeping again as the sun continues in its appointed track; the smell of Tim Horton’s coffee and gas and propane, Spitz and air fresheners, pillows and cities. We drive and play and drive, an endless cycle, spiraling homewards.
…and there's Finn in a tree at the Honderichs' house.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Murphy's Law proven, once & for all.
PART ONE: The first two days.
11 000 km have been logged since this tour began around five weeks ago, for the sake of information. Time for another oil change already; it seems like it was only yesterday!
So, the last few days have been so extraordinarily… odd… I feel I must write it down before it fades. Things started to get interesting when we left the Zwiers' house in Vineland, near St. Catherine's. We had a refreshing time there, which was important, because we knew we'd be traveling a LOT in the next few days. The itinerary was: Hamilton, Ottawa, Toronto, Montréal, Toronto (that's today), Canada Day weekend, Quebec City, Ottawa, Montréal… I think it's something like that. Anyway, all these cities are around 6 to 8 hours apart—that is, if nothing goes wrong along the way. However, with Anoria (and the Mohawks), something always goes wrong. And we all know that Murphy's Law states that whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.
Our first day in Toronto wasn't all bad. Traffic was all bad, and finding a parking spot was worse, but we finally settled down in China town in the afternoon. Staggering from 8 hours in the sauna van that day (still no A.C.), Ash & I crawled over to the nearest patch of grass and lay down. She fell asleep immediately, but it took a book to knock me out. There was a group of about 10 hippies nearby, smoking pot and playing Nirvana songs on guitars and djembes. One young radical had a very good voice. They mingled with my dreams for perhaps an hour, when nearby footsteps brought me back. It was none other than the local news crew, setting up to report the weather beside our heads, along with some exemplary appropriate behaviour for the day, such as we exhibited. While they set up, two hippies met for the first time and agreed to go to the Winnipeg Folk Festival in "maybe 2 or 3 days, but definitely before the weekend." The weatherman hid behind a statue of some man in a top hat, and popped his head out. Very catchy.
Probably the most eventful day was the day we drove from Toronto to Montréal. After our show at The Boat, we drove an hour or so out of the city, found a rest stop to sleep at, and parked at 2:30 a.m. We woke up the next morning at 7:30—another stinking, hot, humid, southern Ontario day. The news was full of weather and resource shortage warnings: extreme heat, hydro and water shortages, strange clouds, and so forth. To augment this, no one in the van had showered since we left the Zwiers' house… 3 days ago. Disgusting.
I drove all the way to Montréal, which should have taken us 5 1/2 hours. We left a few hours for the unknown, and planned to be at Zeke's Art Gallery in Montréal by 2:30 p.m. for a rigorous sound check, like never before. Zeke is an interesting fellow whom I hope you will never have the pleasure of meeting. He has a rule for everything.
The belts had been making that annoying, shrill squealing sound for a few days now, and I kept meaning to tighten them, but never found the time. Today was different. They just would not stop squealing. Eventually, I pulled over at a truck stop somewhere in the middle of nowhere (exit 730 on the 401), where we planned to take really quick showers. The mechanics at the shop were taking lunch outside and were unable to suppress their laughter as Anoria squeaked by. I thought it was funny too, so I went to talk to them about getting those belts tightened. They were new in May, so I thought maybe they were just getting worn in now. One mechanic offered to do it for free, so we gave him an Eisenhauer CD, because we won't sell them all. After inspecting the belts, his diagnosis was grim: they were as tight as leather pants, and one was about to shred completely. He advised us to head to the nearest Canadian Tire for new belts. We decided it would be good to call Zeke when we figured out that we would definitely be somewhat late for sound check. He sounded like a very kind and reasonable man over the phone, so we relaxed a little.
On the way to Canadian Tire, Anoria suddenly stopped squealing, and I had a bad feeling that she had already blown it. Fortunately, it was only our alternator belt, so I kept going. But it wasn't that easy. All the mechanics at Canadian Tire had left the premises for lunch, and the clerk there was not feeling too helpful. He eventually sold us a new belt and moved us on to the next Canadian Tire, which would have actual mechanics. Things moved a little more smoothly at this place: they would look at the van as soon as we unhitched our trailer. (Knock knock.) The hitch chain quick link was, somehow, completely shot, stuck, stripped of thread. We messed around for awhile before our mechanic came out with a big scissor and put an end to that nonsense. The engine, however, was hot enough to boil water on, so Anoria would have to take a cold shower before he could even touch her.
We sat in the waiting room for what seemed like an eternity, eating fruit salad, reading magazines, and watching the Colbert Report. Periodically, the head mechanic would come and call someone's name: "Sir… we have bad news… we're going to have to operate… it's never been tried before on someone this old… you should know the risks…" Suddenly, everyone felt really weird, as though we were in a hospital or something.
Well, Anoria pulled through all right. New belts, no more hideous pig-squealing, and now—miraculously, praise God Almighty—the air conditioning was working! We took off down the freeway at an astonishing rate.
To be continued…
11 000 km have been logged since this tour began around five weeks ago, for the sake of information. Time for another oil change already; it seems like it was only yesterday!
So, the last few days have been so extraordinarily… odd… I feel I must write it down before it fades. Things started to get interesting when we left the Zwiers' house in Vineland, near St. Catherine's. We had a refreshing time there, which was important, because we knew we'd be traveling a LOT in the next few days. The itinerary was: Hamilton, Ottawa, Toronto, Montréal, Toronto (that's today), Canada Day weekend, Quebec City, Ottawa, Montréal… I think it's something like that. Anyway, all these cities are around 6 to 8 hours apart—that is, if nothing goes wrong along the way. However, with Anoria (and the Mohawks), something always goes wrong. And we all know that Murphy's Law states that whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.
Our first day in Toronto wasn't all bad. Traffic was all bad, and finding a parking spot was worse, but we finally settled down in China town in the afternoon. Staggering from 8 hours in the sauna van that day (still no A.C.), Ash & I crawled over to the nearest patch of grass and lay down. She fell asleep immediately, but it took a book to knock me out. There was a group of about 10 hippies nearby, smoking pot and playing Nirvana songs on guitars and djembes. One young radical had a very good voice. They mingled with my dreams for perhaps an hour, when nearby footsteps brought me back. It was none other than the local news crew, setting up to report the weather beside our heads, along with some exemplary appropriate behaviour for the day, such as we exhibited. While they set up, two hippies met for the first time and agreed to go to the Winnipeg Folk Festival in "maybe 2 or 3 days, but definitely before the weekend." The weatherman hid behind a statue of some man in a top hat, and popped his head out. Very catchy.
Probably the most eventful day was the day we drove from Toronto to Montréal. After our show at The Boat, we drove an hour or so out of the city, found a rest stop to sleep at, and parked at 2:30 a.m. We woke up the next morning at 7:30—another stinking, hot, humid, southern Ontario day. The news was full of weather and resource shortage warnings: extreme heat, hydro and water shortages, strange clouds, and so forth. To augment this, no one in the van had showered since we left the Zwiers' house… 3 days ago. Disgusting.
I drove all the way to Montréal, which should have taken us 5 1/2 hours. We left a few hours for the unknown, and planned to be at Zeke's Art Gallery in Montréal by 2:30 p.m. for a rigorous sound check, like never before. Zeke is an interesting fellow whom I hope you will never have the pleasure of meeting. He has a rule for everything.
The belts had been making that annoying, shrill squealing sound for a few days now, and I kept meaning to tighten them, but never found the time. Today was different. They just would not stop squealing. Eventually, I pulled over at a truck stop somewhere in the middle of nowhere (exit 730 on the 401), where we planned to take really quick showers. The mechanics at the shop were taking lunch outside and were unable to suppress their laughter as Anoria squeaked by. I thought it was funny too, so I went to talk to them about getting those belts tightened. They were new in May, so I thought maybe they were just getting worn in now. One mechanic offered to do it for free, so we gave him an Eisenhauer CD, because we won't sell them all. After inspecting the belts, his diagnosis was grim: they were as tight as leather pants, and one was about to shred completely. He advised us to head to the nearest Canadian Tire for new belts. We decided it would be good to call Zeke when we figured out that we would definitely be somewhat late for sound check. He sounded like a very kind and reasonable man over the phone, so we relaxed a little.
On the way to Canadian Tire, Anoria suddenly stopped squealing, and I had a bad feeling that she had already blown it. Fortunately, it was only our alternator belt, so I kept going. But it wasn't that easy. All the mechanics at Canadian Tire had left the premises for lunch, and the clerk there was not feeling too helpful. He eventually sold us a new belt and moved us on to the next Canadian Tire, which would have actual mechanics. Things moved a little more smoothly at this place: they would look at the van as soon as we unhitched our trailer. (Knock knock.) The hitch chain quick link was, somehow, completely shot, stuck, stripped of thread. We messed around for awhile before our mechanic came out with a big scissor and put an end to that nonsense. The engine, however, was hot enough to boil water on, so Anoria would have to take a cold shower before he could even touch her.
We sat in the waiting room for what seemed like an eternity, eating fruit salad, reading magazines, and watching the Colbert Report. Periodically, the head mechanic would come and call someone's name: "Sir… we have bad news… we're going to have to operate… it's never been tried before on someone this old… you should know the risks…" Suddenly, everyone felt really weird, as though we were in a hospital or something.
Well, Anoria pulled through all right. New belts, no more hideous pig-squealing, and now—miraculously, praise God Almighty—the air conditioning was working! We took off down the freeway at an astonishing rate.
To be continued…
Letter to the folks.
I wrote this e-mail a couple days ago. I thought it turned out nicely, so I'll save time and just cut and paste it here:
Hey! I'm in a pub, or something like one, called The Rainbow. It's in Ottawa, a nice enough looking city. Old buildings. We just got here. 'Twas a looong drive from St. Catherine's today, though not nearly the longest drive we've undertaken thus far.
Oh, sorry about the non-blogging. It is terribly hard to sit down at a computer once we are finally off the van and the weather is beautiful and we are usually with some great hosts. After the longest drive ever (Thunder Bay to Midland in 16 hours), we stayed with Penner's aunt & uncle and had the absolute best pork chops ever. Even the vegetarians liked them. We played at a senior nursing home, which was interesting and rather fun.
The last two nights we stayed with the parents of Sheree's friend from CBC, Jenica Zwier, whom I know just a little. They were very generous and live in a small town with a beautiful little piece of property on which we camped. We were awoken at 1:30 in the morning by a snooping skunk; no one was sprayed.
So, I read nearly all of The Catcher in the Rye on the drive up today. Hard to put down, but reading that guy ramble on and on puts me in the mood to speak my mind very candidly, so it's good to take a break. There are some 35ish year-old guys here in the bar who are way too friendly and probably drunk, but it's only 9 PM! Crazy.
We'll probably be sound checking soon, so I've got to run. Hope you enjoyed! Let me know how things are out there!
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
The best and worst of anything. (Under construction.)
Best new CDs to listen to:
Wilco's "Sky Blue Sky," Parlour Steps' "Ambiguoso," & Feist's "The Reminder."
Most nice guy:
Simon Hoskyn. Also a beautiful guitarist.
Best hitch-hikers:
Katherine from Montréal & Gabriel from Gatineau, QC. But we picked them up at Lake Louise, AB.
Best impromptu show:
Bruno's Bar & Grill, Open Mic Thursdays, Banff, AB.
Best place to run out of gas:
Macleod Trail, Calgary.
Best club for touring bands:
Broken City, Calgary.
Best dog:
This one was tough, but when we considered every aspect of the subject, we decided that Marty, the face-ball-bashing dog was by far the best. Plus, we were able to use him and a giant ball to wake Finn one morning.
Worst city slogan:
"The city of gas!" Medicine Hat, AB.
The Ottoman, Medicine Hat.
Friendliest gophers:
Rest stop between Medicine Hat & Calgary.
Best crowd:
The sceners at Castle Awesome, Edmonton. They nod their heads and sing along and basically make us feel like rock stars.
Most Dr. Xavier:
Calgary.
Worst mosquitoes:
On a field in Meadow Lake, SK.
This is the best birthday ever, you guys! Besides my other ones:
Penner's, June 5, Meadow Lake, SK.
Best encore call:
"Come on, don' be so tiiight. Play another song." Meadow Lake Secondary School, Meadow Lake, AB.
Best new guitar:
The Sparrow, Meadow Lake, SK.
Best grandparent hosts:
Finn's grandparents, Saskatoon.
Best Playstation RockStar guitarists:
Rock stars in Hague, SK.
Best dance troupe:
Jump 6, Rosenort, MB.
Best overall show:
Riverside Park, Rosenort, MB.
Most profitable day:
Sunday at Meadow Lake E.Free Church, SK & Sunday at Fort Garry E.M.C. & Portage Ave. M.B. Church, Winnipeg, MB. (Tie, approximately.)
Best dance club:
Collective Cabaret, Winnipeg.
Best Starbucks:
Thunder Bay, ON, evening shift.
Best pork chops:
Aunt Loreen and Uncle "mrmrm" Ens, Midland, ON.
Best restaurant:
Alex P. Keaton & Cafe One, London, ON. (Tie.)
Most coincidence:
Randomly running into Parlour Steps at a breakfast café in Toronto.
Best downtown area:
London, ON.
Best backyard for the purpose of camping:
The Zwiers', Vineland, ON.
Worst coffee:
The Coffee Pub, London, ON, & a church in St. Catherine's church, whose coffee smelled like broccoli and tasted like butter. (Tie.)
Best band we've played with:
Parlour Steps, from Vancouver, at the Rainbow, Ottawa.
Best venue:
The Boat, Toronto.
Quickest, most awkwardly silent pack-up:
Zeke's, Montréal, QC.
Most anal, ever:
Zeke!
Best surprise:
Two nights at the Days Inn Montréal, given by the Eisenhauers.
Wilco's "Sky Blue Sky," Parlour Steps' "Ambiguoso," & Feist's "The Reminder."
Most nice guy:
Simon Hoskyn. Also a beautiful guitarist.
Best hitch-hikers:
Katherine from Montréal & Gabriel from Gatineau, QC. But we picked them up at Lake Louise, AB.
Best impromptu show:
Bruno's Bar & Grill, Open Mic Thursdays, Banff, AB.
Best place to run out of gas:
Macleod Trail, Calgary.
Best club for touring bands:
Broken City, Calgary.
Best dog:
This one was tough, but when we considered every aspect of the subject, we decided that Marty, the face-ball-bashing dog was by far the best. Plus, we were able to use him and a giant ball to wake Finn one morning.
Worst city slogan:
"The city of gas!" Medicine Hat, AB.
The Ottoman, Medicine Hat.
Friendliest gophers:
Rest stop between Medicine Hat & Calgary.
Best crowd:
The sceners at Castle Awesome, Edmonton. They nod their heads and sing along and basically make us feel like rock stars.
Most Dr. Xavier:
Calgary.
Worst mosquitoes:
On a field in Meadow Lake, SK.
This is the best birthday ever, you guys! Besides my other ones:
Penner's, June 5, Meadow Lake, SK.
Best encore call:
"Come on, don' be so tiiight. Play another song." Meadow Lake Secondary School, Meadow Lake, AB.
Best new guitar:
The Sparrow, Meadow Lake, SK.
Best grandparent hosts:
Finn's grandparents, Saskatoon.
Best Playstation RockStar guitarists:
Rock stars in Hague, SK.
Best dance troupe:
Jump 6, Rosenort, MB.
Best overall show:
Riverside Park, Rosenort, MB.
Most profitable day:
Sunday at Meadow Lake E.Free Church, SK & Sunday at Fort Garry E.M.C. & Portage Ave. M.B. Church, Winnipeg, MB. (Tie, approximately.)
Best dance club:
Collective Cabaret, Winnipeg.
Best Starbucks:
Thunder Bay, ON, evening shift.
Best pork chops:
Aunt Loreen and Uncle "mrmrm" Ens, Midland, ON.
Best restaurant:
Alex P. Keaton & Cafe One, London, ON. (Tie.)
Most coincidence:
Randomly running into Parlour Steps at a breakfast café in Toronto.
Best downtown area:
London, ON.
Best backyard for the purpose of camping:
The Zwiers', Vineland, ON.
Worst coffee:
The Coffee Pub, London, ON, & a church in St. Catherine's church, whose coffee smelled like broccoli and tasted like butter. (Tie.)
Best band we've played with:
Parlour Steps, from Vancouver, at the Rainbow, Ottawa.
Best venue:
The Boat, Toronto.
Quickest, most awkwardly silent pack-up:
Zeke's, Montréal, QC.
Most anal, ever:
Zeke!
Best surprise:
Two nights at the Days Inn Montréal, given by the Eisenhauers.
Monday, June 4, 2007
a long weekend...
So we have finally arrived in Meadow Lake Saskatchewan. FinNess' (Jordan Ness) mo and pa and brother live here, and this is his old stomping grounds- where his old band 'Super Refill' once ruled the scene. This is how our weekend looked:
Thursday night:
Played at a beach house in South Calgary in a gated community that had a man made lake and a beautiful view. We all got to go in a paddle boat before the show. It was also National Kiss Tyler Dyck day... which made things really fun.
Friday morning:
Wake up EARLY (9.00am !!!) and leave for Medicine Hat. About 50 minutes outside of Med. Hat, we pull off at a roadside rest-stop to find nothing but some really awful smelling biffy's and a huge army of gophers. After about 20 minutes of kicking what we think to be our fan for the AC and trying to hit gophers in the head with a frisbee, we start to drive away in Anoriah, when she unexpectedly stalls in the merge lane while trying to get back onto the #1 HWY. After a bunch of stress, Dueck the handy-man starts it up and we drive down the highway at about 50 kmh with our exhaust making sounds like it were a gun, shooting at the cars that drive by. We arrive in Med. Hat to play at a former gay bar named The Ottoman, which had surprisingly sexy bathrooms for both men and women. It was a fun show. After we played, we followed our friend Thomas (who's house we were sleeping at)to the Silver Buckle for a fun filled Alberta adventure of fuse ball and... being really tired.
Saturday morning:
-Woke up from a 5 hour sleep at Thomas' house. (8:17 am ... simply ridiculous)
-Showered ate a small breakfast and left for Edmonton.
-Drove for 8 long hours in the HOT van.
-Arrived in Edmonton around 5pm.
-Ate real pizza at 'Pizza Boys'-looked like dollar pizza on the outside, but on the inside felt like an early 90's eatery that would have been featured on a cheesy soap-opera.
-started our show at Castle Awesome (an old house on a quiet Edmonton street where the bands played in a basement that felt identical to a sauna) around 11.30pm.
-Had the most fun at a show that we've ever had in all our touring experiences. We love Edmonton.
-Left Edmonton around 1.35am for Meadow Lake.
-Drove through the whole night and arrived in Meadow Lake around 7.30 am.
Sunday morning:
-Played 2 sets of music for Meadow Lake E-Free church- one at 9.30 am and another at 10.30 am.
-Came home to the Ness family residents and slept for a couple hours.
-Woke around 4.00pm and went back to the church to set up for a show we had at 7.30pm.
-Played the show.
-Came home. Ate a lot of pizza.
-Watched Batman Begins.
-Finally went to sleep.
If you've read through this whole post, you must be my mother. Or one of our mothers. So hello Moms.
Thursday night:
Played at a beach house in South Calgary in a gated community that had a man made lake and a beautiful view. We all got to go in a paddle boat before the show. It was also National Kiss Tyler Dyck day... which made things really fun.
Friday morning:
Wake up EARLY (9.00am !!!) and leave for Medicine Hat. About 50 minutes outside of Med. Hat, we pull off at a roadside rest-stop to find nothing but some really awful smelling biffy's and a huge army of gophers. After about 20 minutes of kicking what we think to be our fan for the AC and trying to hit gophers in the head with a frisbee, we start to drive away in Anoriah, when she unexpectedly stalls in the merge lane while trying to get back onto the #1 HWY. After a bunch of stress, Dueck the handy-man starts it up and we drive down the highway at about 50 kmh with our exhaust making sounds like it were a gun, shooting at the cars that drive by. We arrive in Med. Hat to play at a former gay bar named The Ottoman, which had surprisingly sexy bathrooms for both men and women. It was a fun show. After we played, we followed our friend Thomas (who's house we were sleeping at)to the Silver Buckle for a fun filled Alberta adventure of fuse ball and... being really tired.
Saturday morning:
-Woke up from a 5 hour sleep at Thomas' house. (8:17 am ... simply ridiculous)
-Showered ate a small breakfast and left for Edmonton.
-Drove for 8 long hours in the HOT van.
-Arrived in Edmonton around 5pm.
-Ate real pizza at 'Pizza Boys'-looked like dollar pizza on the outside, but on the inside felt like an early 90's eatery that would have been featured on a cheesy soap-opera.
-started our show at Castle Awesome (an old house on a quiet Edmonton street where the bands played in a basement that felt identical to a sauna) around 11.30pm.
-Had the most fun at a show that we've ever had in all our touring experiences. We love Edmonton.
-Left Edmonton around 1.35am for Meadow Lake.
-Drove through the whole night and arrived in Meadow Lake around 7.30 am.
Sunday morning:
-Played 2 sets of music for Meadow Lake E-Free church- one at 9.30 am and another at 10.30 am.
-Came home to the Ness family residents and slept for a couple hours.
-Woke around 4.00pm and went back to the church to set up for a show we had at 7.30pm.
-Played the show.
-Came home. Ate a lot of pizza.
-Watched Batman Begins.
-Finally went to sleep.
If you've read through this whole post, you must be my mother. Or one of our mothers. So hello Moms.
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