I’ve been off the road and home for a couple of weeks now, and pretty much will be for a few months. Being home is heaven for me. But to have a long stretch is a rare and wonderful treat. The main thing it signifies is time to write. And it IS time to write a new album, there’s no escaping that. It also means time to deal with all the wear and tear a 20 year old house has weathered – culling the extra crap, cleaning the icky parts and fixing things. Like the shower door that has leaked for those 20 years because it was hung incorrectly. (Months and years go by when I give up on it, and then I throw myself at it one more time in a determined, but ultimately futile effort to stop it from leaking. THIS time, I think I’ve done it, thanks to the therapist at Home Depot who took the time to listen to my problems.)
Read MoreIt's been the summer of adventures in music - from the 40th reunion shows with Valdy & the Hometown Band (SO fun.... SO loud!), to the new High Bar Gang album (with a show at our all time favourite concert stage in the world at Butchart Gardens), to lots of solo shows, festivals, and travels. Even fitting in a family reunion with siblings and cousins in Boulder Colorado - (LOVE the prairie dogs! ....AND the family!)
Julia and Kirby Barber and I did our first trio show together at the Mission Folk Festival and at the very first rehearsal, hearing Kirby's exceptional bass playing and the 3 part gal vocals, that was IT - I was done! I'm now ruined for ever wanting to play solo again!
I'm writing this from Toronto - and it's SO overdue!
When I was 18 years old, in my first year of college, I got my first bicycle – a 10 speed Peugot. That was back when a “10-speed” with the ram handle bars was a new invention. I know, 18 sounds surprisingly late in one’s childhood, but we lived a very hilly area that was not at all bike friendly for kids. So better late than never. This meant I could ride to College of Marin, about 40 minutes from my house. I was hooked and have remained so ever since. It also coincided with getting my first SLR camera. This turned out to be a life changing one-two combo.
Consciousness is a bitch…
…and hard to maintain. Not the kind that keeps you upright and talking. Fortunately that is usually pretty automatic. I mean the kind that requires you to be aware and non-delusional every waking moment. The kind that makes you perhaps change a habit that’s not serving your life or the world particularly well. Self delusion and being unintentionally insensitive to those around us seems to be our default. And overriding that is work and requires vigilance. Damn.
Yes, it’s been awhile. My missives tend to be timed with the change in seasons I guess. Today marks my 64th anniversary as a human on this planet so it seemed to be an fitting time to write you.
And as time marches on, it all just keeps getting more and more interesting!
The past month I’ve been on a totally different kind of adventure as part of the Arts Club Theatre production of "The Waiting Room". Created by Morris Panych (writer and director of my dreams) and John Mann (Spirit of the West), it is based on the album John wrote following his encounter with the world of colorectal cancer. Not a subject one would assume would inspire great music or theatre, nor be particularly good fodder for humour, but oh my….one would be so wrong!
Wow...what a summer! Apocalyptic forest fires aside, this has been more fun than a girl should get to have.
I am writing you from the banks of the Mississippi...which will be a bit misleading since it's the one that runs by our host's home is in Lanark Ontario (who knew?) where we are staying while performing at the Blue Skies Festival. I have always been a water person, but have not, since my childhood summers on the San Joaquin River, spent much time on rivers. What a sublime experience. I've just spent several days in upstate New York with Karen Savoca & Pete Heitzman at their place, and it has a similar simmering lush feel as this area. Pete said "with the growing season so short nature knows it has to get to it!". It indeed feels like an explosion of life, with a din of everything teeming. You can hear it. Between the Cicadas and the wind in the poplars, and the heat and humidity that seem to emit a hiss of their own, it gives "the sounds of summer" a whole new fecund (I love that word!) and sultry meaning.