Carrie Catherine's Blog

the neighbors dog

2009-06-30T20:44:00.001-07:00

Friends of ours at Plan9 films in Saskatoon have created an outstanding television series called The Neighbors Dog. The series takes viewers into 13 different house concerts with incredible musicians including John Mann, Nathan, Little Miss Higgins, Tom Wilson, and more. I usually don't like watching music on television, but I have to admit that the art direction is beautiful, the sound is great, and the folks at Plan9 have found a way to give viewers a whole new way of experiencing music performances. I love it.

On June 20, Plan9Films came to The Hayloft to host their launch party. We had delicious food by Cafe Secreta, wine, and watched some excerpts from The Neighbors Dog. And to honor the occasion, we even had a short house concert featuring The New Meanies. We literally blew the roof off the Hayloft (as the police will attest) and it was well worth it.

I'm telling everyone I know to visit the website of The Neighbors Dog, and catch an episode! The first 2 episodes will air at 10:00pm CST July 8, 2009 on SCN. (SCN is available on cable in Saskatchewan and Manitoba as well as Bell TV satellite service, on channel 266, and on Star Choice Channel 352).

Here are some pics from the launch party!

Performing at the Hayloft with CBC Canada Live

2009-06-20T09:11:00.000-07:00

In a moment of self-indulgence, I booked myself a show at my own venue, The Hayloft, where I usually host a series of house concerts for friends of mine traveling through Saskatoon. So the show felt a bit like I was throwing my own surprise party.

Then I got a call from Bonnie Austring-Winter saying CBC wanted to record the show for Canada Live. This was the perfect excuse to assemble a whole band for the occasion and pull out all the stops! Hal Schrenk (percussion) and Soren Nissen (double bass) joined Sam (flute/mandolin) and I for the show. I haven't played with a band for awhile, and to tell you the truth, I wasn't really that excited about working with a band (for another upcoming show) until I thought of working with these guys. True enough, they were really great. Seemed like magic.

Out of the blue, I received an email from Saskatoon's fiddle sensation (as I like to call him) Karrnnel. Call it serendipity. I asked Karrnnel to open the show and join our merry little band.

The show sold out fast, and we had scores of people waiting for tickets. So at the last minute, we added another show on Friday. Tamila Chapman-McLean of deezine.ca took some pictures at the Hayloft and The Star Phoenix ran a great story on the upcoming shows. Local artist Jillian Cyca hung her work for the occasion.

photo by tamila@deezine.ca

The place was totally packed. I hung out in the green room as my merry band of helpers (thanks to Curtis Olson, Jayne Horachek, Marty Olson, Lynn Nellis, Peter Olson and more not to mention the CBC) busted around, broke out more chairs, and squeezed in our beautiful audience. The show was so much fun. Playing with the band was magic! And I'll be sure to let you know when CBC makes it all available. It'll be heard on SoundXchange, Canada Live and Concerts on Demand.

The CBC's massive mobile studio parked next to our house earns suspicious looks from the neighbors:

Soundcheck at the Hayloft:

FOLLOWING ARE SOME PHOTOS BY CANDACE EPP FROM THE SHOW
My awesome brother-in-law Marty Olson takes tickets at the door:

Karrnnel starts the night off:

Soren Nissen on bass:

Sam makes a surprising entrance, emerging from The Hayloft for his kazoo solo:

I'm feeling tremendously grateful right now this house concert venue of ours, the people beautiful that come to fill it, the musicians that I get to play with, support of the CBC, and from my community. Thanks everyone!

Be sure to come to the next house concert: Patrick Brealey on July 22 and LAL on Aug 5.

Kerrville Folk Festival

2009-05-28T08:59:00.000-07:00

Here we are in Austin, soaking up some hot weather and some of the most inventive, insane shops and music venues I've ever seen. So I'm finally taking a minute to tell you all about our experiences at the Kerrville Folk Festival last weekend!

We spent last weekend at the Kerrville Folk Festival, where I was a finalist in the New Folk songwriting competition. We arrived at the festival midnight last Friday, and were instantly inspired and impressed by the late night scene. Kerrville is basically a small village in its own right, surrounded by neighborhoods of camps--tenting arranged around a central tent which is a totally social space created for sharing music. Each camp or neighborhood has a sign and name: Camp Hendonism, Camp Nashville, Camp NashBill (of which Bill Nash is the king), Camp CoHo. Some camps have entire kitchens erected to service their community!

Curt and I wandered around in the dark, soaking up the stars and taking in some incredible music. The next night, we had the expert guidance of Joe Jencks, a festival vet, showing us around the campsites. I dragged my guitar around, meeting folks, singing songs and drinking wine on a warm Texas night.

On Sunday, after we were well acquainted with the festival protocol of late night jamming and had made a wealth of groovy friends here, the songwriting competition was held. Dalis Allen, the artistic producer, came backstage. She spoke slowly and intentionally, addressing us all with such serenity that she immediately calmed our nerves. 32 singer/songwriters had 10 minutes to perform two songs before a huge audience at the festival and three judges. The show took place in a beautiful outdoor covered stage/ampitheatre before the most supportive crowd of attentive listeners!

The talent was incredible, and all the New Folk artists formed a real community of friends over the course of the weekend. This is in part due to the amazing hospitality of the Rouse House (a "neighorhood" or camp set up by Lindsey Lee and Debbie to host the New Folk singers).

Sunday night, before thousands of people on the mainstage of the festival, Dalis Allen announced the six winners of the New Folk competition, and I am honored to say that I'm one of them! I get to perform again next weekend at the festival with 5 other amazing songwriters, and I can't wait.

Lots more pictures of our Texas experience to share. But in the meantime....
The King of Camp Hedonism:

Loser Camp seems like a popular spot:

Festival security is tight and unrelenting, let me assure you.

Artistic director Dalis Allen receives a warm embrace from Peter Yarrow (of Peter, Paul and Mary). Hugs are plentiful around Kerrville. Hope you're not shy.

Curtis hanging out along the boardwalk, where we get food, beer and wine at the main stage festival site. So cute...

Although the fine folks at the Rouse House set us up with a tent, Curt and I snuck away from the tent site (on a cold, damp night) to sleep in the volvo stationwagon--excellent, dry camping alternative. Only one of two mornings were we woken by a fresh-faced young security dude telling us that sleeping in the parking lot was illegal. But when we explained the scene, he politely apologized for waking us and moseyed on. Fold down the seats and we're talking luxury sleeping, baby...

Hanging out at the festival site:

On Monday, we transformed from dusty, hippie festival campers to dazzling urbanites for a night out in San Antonio:

Maverick community show in Swift Current

2009-05-08T11:06:00.000-07:00

Having the most amazing morning in Swift Current. I'm hear to help the kids at Maverick high school produce a show for the entire community, where they present songs they wrote as part of this songwriting/performing/recording project. Last night, the students overcame their nerves and delivered stellar performances before their friends and family at the historic Lyric Theatre. After the show, I skipped out on the post-production cleaning duties (how terrible! I'll do twice as much tonight on the second show, I promise...) and went to a party with my good friend Dave Lang. I drank more red wine than usual, had amazing conversations with a diverse group of folks and laughed loud and long at Dave recounting his experiences as the artist in residence in small town Saskatchewan. Beautiful.

Woke up this morning with a full day to myself. The Maverick students are doing another show tonight, but the work is done for setup. I'm surprised how amazing this feeling is--to have a day without a schedule, without meetings, without even the thought of what I need to do running through my mind.

I used a run to get some fresh air and listened to the bliss inducing tunes of Wade Imre Morrisette. Ended up doing some yoga in my hotel room until all the effects of red wine and cigarettes from last night were history. I didn't even look at the clock, but made it to the local cafe by noon to do some email and get a coffee. So free. It's so incredibly difficult to feel this free at home--where there's always stuff to do, people to meet, and a little voice in the back of my head that gets in the way.

Last night, I met Annika who has opened an amazing "Welcome" centre in Swift Current for new immigrants. So i'm going to swing by her place and see the centre and hear more of her stories about the creative programming she's using to celebrate cultural diversity here. Lately, diversity has been a burning issue in my mind, and I've been thinking not about what causes or organizations or charities I can contribute to, but how I can make my daily experiences more culturally diverse. I'm starting by inviting people to sponsor tickets for upcoming concerts and then giving those tickets to immigrants in Saskatoon through the International Women of Saskatoon

Then I'm heading to the local art gallery. Dave and Jean Cyca introduced me to their daughter Jillian's artwork last night, which is currently showing at the gallery. Check out Jillian Cyca here!

Shann Gowan is a promoter in town who has single-handedly created a vibrant, enthusiastic audience for live music through her shows. So I've been invited out to her farm for a beer this afternoon. The last time I was out at her place, I performed a house concert. 45 minutes before the show, her husband Ray took me for a detour out to bottle feed the new calf. An interesting and unusual pre-show prep for sure!

Ah, the wonders of this little community!

Mistakes are not mistakes

2009-04-27T21:40:00.000-07:00

Last week I visited the Sherbrooke Community Centre in Saskatoon, which houses elderly and disabled persons in need of long-term care. Immediately upon entering the building, I could sense that this place was different than what you’d expect of a long-term healthcare facility. Sherbrooke is modeled on the concept of a village, and includes a greenhouse, village store, cafeteria, daycare—pets, plants, animals, and babies abound in the bright, colorful corridors. The most amazing feature of Sherbrooke is their art studio.

I was there meeting Patricia Roe and Jeff Nachtigall, an artist who set up his studio at Sherbrooke and has invited the residents to explore their own artistic voice. The results have been so incredible that the Mendel Art Gallery, a well-respected public gallery, recently hosted an entire exhibition featuring art created by the residents of Sherbrooke.

When I was there, I was getting a tour of the art studio and met Dennis Anderson, a resident at Sherbrooke who had his artwork shown at the Mendel. I interrupted Dennis creating a set of prints for the volunteers at Sherbrooke, and the three of us (Dennis, Jeff and I) engaged in a really interesting discussion about art that I’ve been thinking about ever since.

Dennis started describing his first forays into art making at Sherbrooke. He would intend to draw a certain line or shape, and then an uncontrollable muscle spasm (part of his physical condition) would send his hand and brush in a totally different direction. His first reaction was always that of frustration, as he considered his work in progress ruined by these spasms. But eventually, he realized that these unpredictable lines and “mistakes” were part of what made the paintings unique, distinct, and even beautiful.

Jeff elaborated on this idea, explaining that we all know how to make a “proper” straight line, using a ruler for example. But if we let ourselves go free hand and draw whatever we think a straight line should look like, the results will be different. The difference may be great or subtle, but the results will be different nonetheless and reflective of our individual expression.

The conversation totally mimicked an experience I had in Swift Current a few weeks before, when I was working with a student who was recording a cover of a song that he loved. We were in the studio, and he hated the sound of his voice and performance. In small town Saskatchewan where the radio sticks pretty close to the safe side of Top 40, this student had never really heard the VAST recordings of voices (indie, low-fi, slightly pitchy but in an endearing way) that sounded like his. He just knew that he didn’t sound like the voices on the radio, coming from the Top 40 bands—therefore, he sucked. Dave Lang (the engineer and singer/songwriter also involved in our project) played the student song samples and references that eventually (hopefully) convinced him to hear the beauty of his own sound.

When I left Sherbrooke, I thought about my guitar playing (which I’ve never been very confident in). MOST of the time when I think of my guitar playing, the mental monologue goes something like, “I should practice more” or “I need to start up those lessons again” or some other form of self-abuse. I will always work at getting better on the guitar, just as I still take vocal lessons because there is always room to grow and improve. But what if I also accepted that the way I play guitar is different than all the players I know, and this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. What a concept!

Perhaps what we often think of as “mistakes” are simply experiences that differentiate us from norms or expectations. In this sense, our mistakes should be celebrated as creative expressions of individuality. And I’m totally intending to embrace all my future mistakes as exactly that.

Watch out Bob Ezrin

2009-04-08T19:23:00.000-07:00

The legendary hard rock producer has nothing on Carrie Catherine.

I’m in Swift Current doing school workshops with some fantastic kids at Maverick school. The school is for kids who don’t fit into the regular systems and flourish when they’re given freedom and responsibility (the school moto in fact). Their classes involve life coping skills that any adult would pine for and they use the kids’ passion, interest and aptitude in the arts to promote their academic achievement in other areas. To be at Maverick is a chaotic, non-linear, collaborative experience that is truly outside the box, and produces amazing effects.

Last night, I hung out with my friend Dave Lang—-the artist in residence here—-who invited me to a multicultural jam with some fine Swift Current musicians and recent immigrants. The jam took place at the historic Lyric Theatre, with a back room that Dave has transformed into an enviably studio.

A beautiful Filipino woman and her two daughters joined a large circle of musicians, and without instruments, they seemed very tentative. They didn’t understand English clearly enough to start singing along with the jams and sheet music. Soon, they disappeared into the control room.

Eventually, I wandered back there and opened the door to find those three timid women belting out a beautiful Filipino pop song, one daughter eloquently banging away on the piano while the mother and daughter sang out loud and strong. Far from being intimidated by my presence, they eagerly pulled me in and starting asking if I could listen to the youtube version of this song and teach them how to sing the harmonies in the chorus. Brokenly, they tried to teach me the Filipino lyrics as I hummed back the notes of the harmony.

We rejoined the jam, when the group was working on a folk tune that a Latvian violinist introduced to the group. A local songwriter got us jamming on a gorgeous Norweigian folk song. Totally unexpected and beautiful experience in Swift Current!

During the days, I'm either at Maverick school preparing the students to go into the studio or recording with them. Through this project, they've all written songs that they're now recording, and in May, they'll do a fundraising show for the entire community, performing their music and raising money for future arts programming at the school. Most of them are practised and dedicated to their music, and it's really groovy to get to know them.

Heading back to Saskatoon

2009-03-22T21:52:00.000-07:00

The route:
Leave Nashville. Drive north until I can't see straight.

The soundtrack:
Matt Barber
Death Cab for Cutie
Treasa Levasseur
Ekchart Tolle lecturing at a Scottish retreat
Colin Linden
Podcast of CBC's Tapestry on the pagan goddess/saint Brigit
Roxanne Potvin
Podcast of Q: Jian talks to Steven Page about leaving the Barenaked Ladies
of course, some random singing at the top of my lungs

The insights:
1. It's okay to cry about being alone.
2. I think I want a puppy.

The food:
Granola bars
Apples and pears
rice cakes
ginger beer

Highs: beautiful sunset in Minnesota
Lows: driving over a concrete median and scraping the hell out of my car. ARGH!

stay tuned....

Jamming with Colin Linden

2009-03-22T21:51:00.001-07:00

Colin Linden is back in town, and we arrange to meet at his favorite café. I’m in for a treat—I have my hometown café (Caffe Sola, I miss you dearly) and I know the significance of these familiar spaces, the baristas who know your drink, the unique, community feel. And I love searching out funky cafes, which on the road becomes an office, watering hole, and gauge on the local flavor. Colin’s hangout is no disappointment—amazing Americano, funky space filled with students and artists diligently plucking away in their notebooks and laptops. I feel right at home.

Colin walks in, wearing his trademark black pants, black shirt, black suede jacket and black hat—the picture of blues cool. We immediately sink into an amazing conversation about music and life and the next album. Everytime I start telling Colin about the players and albums that have changed my life, he tells me he’s worked with that person—and in most cases, he’s intimate friends with half of them! The more we talk about my work, I gain clarity and a more solid vision of what I want the next album to be.

The next day, Colin swings by my humble little pad with his guitar. I play him some songs that I think might make it on the next record, and Colin effortlessly jams along, playing as if he’s heard these songs a hundred times and intelligently following every change. It is easy and beautiful to just sit in that room making music with Colin. He loves the songs, and I tour him through a range of styles and sounds, some tunes I’ve just written this week in Nashville too.

Eventually, I’ve got to leave for a session with Vince—so I promise to send Colin some demos and we’ll continue the conversation from there. When do we start?

Writing with Eric Bikales

2009-03-22T21:48:00.002-07:00

Writing with Eric Bikales was pure fun: www.myspace.com/ericbikales. I go to his beautiful house—it seems so many neighborhoods in Nashville are houses will rolling expanses of land, no sidewalks, with a very pastoral feel. Eric’s is no exception. We go to his basement studio, with a walk out patio and large windows that let the sun stream in. We sit on the coach and have a wonderful conversation, getting to know each other, and I hear about what brought him to Nashville from L.A. two years ago. This is a common theme—there seems to be a revolving door between Nashville and L.A. and a constant flow of collaborations between the two epi-centres of the music industry.

When we start writing, Eric plays around on his Hammond—-what a gorgeous sound-—and finally settles himself behind the grand piano. He starts hammering out a funky, groovy number that I love. We quickly find that Eric is more comfortable jamming out music, while I love playing with lyrics and words. So as he plays with music, I start to try out different words that fit the feel. Together, we find a melody and start singing and swinging.

It all comes so effortlessly—I find that I’m totally in the moment during these sessions. In the interest of moving the song along and honoring whoever I’m working with, I tend to turn off my inner critic, the one who starts trying to judge if the song is good or bad before we’ve even come to the end of a phrase. So I continue piecing together lyrics and playing with the rhythms and sounds of different deliveries, knowing that I can dig into the lyrics later if I need to change them.

We decide to cut a demo of the song, and Eric quickly puts down some drum, bass and keyboards that I can sing along to. Now you’ll have to wait to see the result….

I'll never write a song about Nashville

2009-03-22T21:48:00.001-07:00

Skim through the first chapter.
It's just introductory.
White bread, bbq, country music.

By the second chapter, you learn
bless yer heart does not mean bless yer heart

Third chapter. You're still romancing Tennessee,
and everyone's a songwriter.
You watch their lips composing lyrics while they
absentmindedly wait on your table,
and you're tempted to ask what the melody of the chorus sounds like.
You're a voyeur here, a witness to the cruel and miraculous drama of someone
"livin' yer dream".
Maybe its true, and maybe it's just the way you'd like to see it.

But if you stay in Nashville long enough,
she sheds these accessories.
She shows you big ole trees with cherry blossoms,
weeping branches and warm moist air.
You hear the southern drawl that is simply
speech wrapping itself around the lush rolling hills,
the way words sound when everything is a song.

For that reason,
I'll never write a song about Nashville.
It already is one,
and my fingers always did have trouble playing the last chord of the chorus.

The OTHER stubble jumpers in Nashville

2009-03-22T21:47:00.001-07:00

I buy tickets to see Rachel Yamagata, who I’ve heard tons about but haven’t really listened to. Feeling pretty festive as I get ready for a night on the town, chatting myself up and that sort of thing. I discover a new part of Nashville with funky clubs and restaurants. I arrive at the show an hour earlier—never trust the website. So I head for a walk about and grab a tea at Café Coco.

Everyplace here has live music, so I’m not surprised to hear a band swinging it in some far off back room. The voice sounds intriguing, so I squirrel through this old mansion of a house turned restaurant/café/venue and find an enclosed back porch built onto the house and here are about ten people watching a band. There are three skinny, plain looking boys plucking away on strings, a big black fellow on the drums and a sweet looking girl with a square, blunt haircut and big cowboy boots. Her voice is high and pretty and she’s adorably awkward between songs. The delicacy of her pink ruffled top, which matches the embroidery on her boots, suits her shy giggles and southern drawl.

I take a seat and after the second song, I’m stunned to hear the singer talk about visiting her grandmother this summer, back in Saskatchewan. She delivers a few prairie-isms that stump the audience, talking about borscht and trying to sell her listeners on the appeal of beet soup. Small world.

Rachel Yamagata offers a much different flavor than the cutie on stage at Café Coco. By contrast, Rachel has dark, unkempt hair and bangs that hide her eyes. She is gritty and heartbroken and getting drunk as the show progresses. Between songs, she jokes with the crowd, notably a few in the front who are buying her shooters, which she obediently slams back. Her smile switches off abruptly when she launches into the next angst-filled song and that irresistibly edgy voice takes us into another world. Wonderful!

The Grand Ole Opry

2009-03-22T21:44:00.000-07:00

Swinging to the opposite end of the spectrum, I head out the following night to the Grand Old Opry, simply because I’ve heard I have to.

Now this is an education of sorts. The auditorium is fantastic—the stage framed by the outline of a barn, but that’s really the only rustic feature. The first host is Little Jimmy Dickens, a sprightly fellow with a jacket AND pants sporting more sequins than a Motown revue. He’s got a constant stream of funny banter, excellently delivered and mostly playing on the fact that he’s 88! A lot of folks up on stage seem well past their prime, but cashing in on some classic songwriter status. I’m not much of a country music fan, so I’m sure that some of this celebrity is lost on me. (Sshhhh….don’t tell anyone.)

I’m intrigued by the spectacles on stage. So much of country music is about masculinity and enforcing historic codes about working hard, proving your manhood, that sort of thing. Yet the men on stage are decked out in tight pants, suits with elegant beadwork and brocade, coiffed hair and makeup (though I’m sure we’re not supposed to notice this part). I mean, in many ways, these guys are going head-to-head with many glam-rockers I can think of. I love it—the showmanship, the timeless hurtin’ songs, the playful revelry all helps me to appreciate a long tradition. Ricky Skaggs, Marty Stuart, Tracy Lawrence (the epitome of authenticity in his jeans and denim shirt), Crystal Gail… I leave feeling I understand something about this tradition. In fact, being down in Tennessee is giving me an appreciation for either the popular music itself or the foundations of popular music that define the American soundtrack.

The Bluebird Cafe

2009-03-22T21:41:00.000-07:00

Friday night I visited the legendary Bluebird Café, where five top country songwriters took the stage in a rare performance and collaboration. They’re all good friends and have birthdays close together, so this was their annual birthday celebration/show. It was a pajama party, so the band and a few knowing members of the audience were flopping around the Bluebird in their slippers and pjs. Now these are the guys that wrote the songs that played endlessly through every high school dance I remember: Vince Melamed (“Walkaway Joe”), Bob DiPiero (“American Made”), Gary Burr (Carole King), Jim Photoglo (“Fishin in the Dark”), and Kelly Keagy (“Sister Christian”).

I kept listening to these songs thinking “he wrote that song?” Whether or not you’re a country fan, I had to admit that I was watching the country music equivalent of Motown’s Holland-Dozier-Holland. Apparently this show sold out in 15 minutes, so I’m lucky that I’m with one of the performers’ label owner who has arranged to get us in.

The Bluebird is surprisingly small and quaint—considering its notoriety, I think I expected something much grander. But in retrospect, it's perfect. It seats about a hundred, with a small stage only a foot or two off the ground. Seats are arranged in a semi circle, crowding the stage and filling every inch of space. It's difficult to move once the show starts and everyone is seated, the waitresses weaving through the seats silently.

It starts to occur to me throughout the show, that the Bluebird is not only legendary for its performances, but for its audiences. The audiences go expecting to listen, and they do so with such rapt attention that the performers have an amazing palette to work with. I’ve seen the dynamic before—when you set the stage for magic to happen, it always does. It’s the whole philosophy behind the house concerts we host when I’m back in town. The waitresses walk around wearing t-shirts that say “SSHHHH!” on the back. People here clap when a lyric moves them, they hang on every word, they hold their breath, they laugh and clap on cue, and they live the old adage: it’s all about the song.

Day two-Songwriting with Vince Melamed

2009-03-22T21:38:00.001-07:00

By day three, I wake up feeling positively terrible, and now I know that my knotted stomache or supposed jet-lag from the last couple days is actually a terrible bug that is catching up with me. But it’s my first co-writing date with Vince Melamed, whose got a list of impressive accomplishments including writing “Walkaway Joe” for Trisha Yearwood and touring with the Eagles during their Hotel California Tour: www.myspace.com/vincemelamed

I force myself into the shower, through breakfast and to Vince’s where the creativity of the day will take over until I go home and crash.

On the way to Vince’s, the signs of spring are everywhere. Huge old cherry trees are in bloom. I see a bright red cardinal skirting about. Flowers in bloom and green buds everywhere, especially after the soft rain last night. It's stunning and grand down here, like nothing I would have imagined.

Writing with Vince is fun and effortless. He’s listened to my music and put together some riffs and ideas to see if I like any. There’s a really beautiful R/B sounding piece that instantly compels me. The music is sad; it’s got some tension, but some promise as well. I’m thinking of my lover. And so we decide the song is about distance and dig into it.

Vince is pretty flexible—he’s accepting of my quirky, poetic bent and I let him structure and guide the process, learning from the way he twists words, works out kinks in the melody, and plays with chords changes. We work off each other so easily. Vince is down to earth and immediately likable, so the day is an absolute pleasure. We laugh and joke and let the 4-month old kitten Josie interrupt and amuse us.

As we write and record sections of the song, I sing it over and over again. And I feel real emotion, real heart in what we’ve written—which is the ultimate test. I’ve always wondered if something written with another songwriter can be as pure, as emotional, as intimate as a song that comes from my own experience. But with Vince, I appreciate being challenged to go beyond my own experience, and find words and chords that I wouldn’t have come up with on my own. And in the end, I feel just as connected to this music as if I had written it on my own. What an excellent way to begin co-writing in Nashville.

A huge thanks to Jim Tract at Adroit Records for setting up this appointment. He is offering an amazingly warm welcome down here in Nashville and showing me the ropes: http://www.adroitrecords.com

I get home that afternoon and in time to collapse into bed, where I spend the next 20 hours. There is one blessing here: in the mess of extra blankets and covers that I gather to warm my chilled body, I find THE notebook, lost on day one. I am grateful. Day three in Nashville is spent in bed.

Day one-Lost and Found in Nashville

2009-03-22T21:37:00.000-07:00

First day in Nashville, I wake up late, totally disoriented and foggy. I feel jetlagged, but that seems like an exaggeration since the time difference between Phoenix and Nashville is a mere two hours. My first meeting isn’t until 3:30pm, so I’ve got some time to get my bearings.

I go for the guitar. It’s a sunny, windy morning and outside my window the trees are swaying. I open the door and let some of that warm, moist air come in through the screen door. It feels good to sing and play and be immersed in this for awhile before my head is engaged and the business of the day begins.

One priority today is find out where that local café is—the one with real coffee, preferably some internet access and a patio. I end up at the Whole Foods, which seems like a groovy little market/deli with a real community feel to it and great coffee. For the coffee snob in me, this is essential.

My meeting is with Kari Estrin, a manager and music career consultant from Nashville that I met at the Folk Alliance conference. She’s got a really inventive approach to artist and career development, so we’re talking about working together. She’s leaving for Scotland in two days, so I’m grateful she found time to fit me in. I visit her quaint home in a beautiful neighborhood in the east part of Nashville. As I drive there, I’m starting to get a feel for the city. There are white cherry blossoms on the trees and flowers in bloom, big old trees everywhere. At home in her living room, Kari absolutely lights up when she talks about her work, and the conversation is an effortless exchange of ideas.

When I return to my car, I get a text message re-scheduling my songwriting session tonight. I go home and start writing anyway—my body is just so full of music today, probably because I’ve been priming it for some creative action. After jamming out a few ideas, I reach for my notebook. Now understand that this is THE notebook, containing notes, ideas, lyrics, dreams, set lists, a few sentimental/inspirational letters I’ve received, stuffed between the pages, ideas, diagrams, and lists. I’m surprisingly calm, given the personal, intimate, irreplaceable and potentially embarrassing nature of the contents. I actually trace my steps back to the café today, but to no avail. No notebook. Nothing in the lost and found. Damn.

Why would I lose that? What’s the lesson here?

Flying into Nashville

2009-03-22T21:16:00.000-07:00

The sun was setting as the plane dipped down toward Nashville. My stomach is in knots, partly because I’m excited to be spending the next two weeks songwriting in music city, partly because I’m nervous for the same reason, and partly because I’m hungry. As the plane lands and pulls into the terminal, I say a thousand Hail Marys for my guitar, which had to be checked with the regular luggage since American doesn’t do fragile. It survives unscathed.

The taxi driver has no idea where I’m heading, so (god forbid) he uses the GPS to get us there. Once we get off the freeways, he drives through rolling hills and valleys where huge houses are surrounded by enormous properties and under canopies of old trees. I start guessing that the wealthy country artists are hunkered down out here.

I’m staying in a suite in one of those houses—very beautiful but not quite as opulent as some of the expansive estates. The suite is reserved for Canadian songwriters working in Nashville, in the home of Lee Anne and Daryl Burgess, and the whole thing is arranged by SOCAN. When I see this quaint little apartment, nestled away in a rustic getaway, I’m totally impressed and amazed and begin right away to make myself at home. This is it for the next two weeks.

Before I even unpack my suitcase, I get directions to the nearest grocer and head out to do some exploring. My car is here and I’m relying on the GPS (Gerty), who is totally confused by these winding roads and removed neighborhood. Eventually, she finds her way, though my driving is erratic and I wave apologetically at most the folks behind or in front.

This is the moment I love most about launching into a new city. When the apprehension and alienation of being somewhere foreign gives way to the delight of discovering a cool neighborhood, a great café, a bizarre market. I need to get some groceries, and I find a hip market not far away. Totally great food! As I’m examining the organic produce and fingering weird new labels, deciding what to try, I notice the groovy young folks meandering the aisles—lots of couples out buying groceries. During these domestic chores and delightful discoveries, my lover’s absence is glaring.

I walk out to the parking lot and the air is moist and warm. It’s dark and the moon is full. I may miss my lover, but I don’t feel alone. I’m not ready to go back to the suite yet, so I call on Gerty to find the legendary Bluebird Café for me. In the car, I turn up the music, crack open a bag of carrots, and take to the streets. But in less than 5 minutes, I easily discover the café and another section of town that is remarkably close to where I’m staying! I’m delighted to find that I’m so close to the action. I get out and walk the streets a bit, mostly because the night is mild, and the moon is full, and the fact that I’m in Nashville is so very intoxicating.

Post-Memphis

2009-02-20T21:25:00.000-08:00

I've just returned from the International Folk Alliance in Memphis, where I showcased with Sam Mitchell. We played, attended workshops, met incredible people from around the world, got totally inspired and left exhausted. The conference was invaluable for helping Sam and I expand our touring into the States this year! I want to say a huge thank you to FACTOR, SaskMusic, and SOCAN for supporting our work down in Memphis and to the Ontario Council of Folk Festivals for promoting and supporting us in Memphis--the Canadians were the buzz of the festival in large part thanks to these folks!

The real education began after the conference, when we visited Rev. Al Green's church in Memphis and caught my first real glimpse into the soul of soul music. Beautiful gospel, organ, and shouts to the almighty. Women crying and lifting up their hands, and us--three little white kids from Saskatchewan--in the back row. I could barely contain my emotion as one of the oldest members of the congregation gave a speech to commemorate Black History Month. Her story was about the first hand abuse she suffered as a slave, a child.
At Church witnessing the Rev. Al Green

The Lorraine Hotel, where Martin Luther King was shot, has been transformed into the Civil Rights Museum.

Stax Records!! The Holy Grail!!

Every place we visited was so stirring and inspiring and eye-opening. More stories to come when my blog is up and running, but for now, I remain in awe of the things I saw and learned in Memphis. And of course, the music we shared....

In less than two weeks, I'll be heading to Nashville to do some
songwriting and get ready for the next album. Looking forward to music
city. Where do you get a good coffee in Nashville?

Folk Alliance in Memphis

2009-02-18T21:19:00.000-08:00

It was three long days of driving down to Memphis with Sam, and we got there on Wednesday—the first day of the Folk Alliance conference, where we would spend the next five days showcasing, going to workshops, meeting folks, and getting totally inspired by the music.

The entire hotel is taken over by musicians and people in the music industry—all passionate about music and songwriting and performing. Because of this, it often felt like a homecoming. Of course, the Canadians showed a strong presence and we loved running into our friends from across the country. Check out Revival Dear from Toronto

Our days were spent taking in bits of Memphis, but mostly going to workshops and lectures and concerts. After dinner was more music—the official showcases ran from 6-10 each night. But then the real frenzy of music exploded.

Colin Linden and Paul Reddick. I've been talking to Colin about producing the next album.

The top three floors of the hotel were reserved for private showcases. Anyone could rent a showcase room and present music in the afternoon and late evening. We performed in seven showcases over the course of the conference, and in between performances, we meandered from room to room. Each room was often decorated and rearranged—mattresses folded or removed—to create a “showcase space.” As we wandered among the rooms, we got to see some of North America’s finest performers and songwriters in this crazy, bizarre and intimate setting. From Swedish sisters to classic folk heroes, from banjo pickers to guitar riffers, each performance was completely unique and inspiring.

Of course, there was little time to sleep. Night after night, we went to bed at 4am, but each morning I woke at 8, finding it impossible to sleep. I shared a room with Curt, my sideman Sam, and our roommate Allison Lickley, a beautiful mousey songwriter from Montreal who I had never met prior to the conference. So I tried to silently slip out into the day without rousing the house, and went wandering around downtown Memphis.

I came to the conclusion that Beale Street—full of blue’s bars, including B.B. King’s—was not meant to be witnessed in the morning. I felt almost like a voyeur, spying on a woman putting on her makeup while she’s still in her nightgown. Nonetheless, I scouted out a great place for breakfast this way.

Art Worship at the Cherch

2009-02-09T08:03:00.000-08:00

One thing. It seems that many great artists--in fact, great people of every discipline--have achieved excellence in their art or work by focusing on ONE THING and refining and practicing and honing and experimenting and putting all their energy into that one thing.

I've thought about that one thing alot. As a musician, it could be a particular style or sound or song. Frida Kahlo had her one thing--her self-portraits appeared in many of her works (though I say this after only seeing one exhibition of her work and some random studying of her life and art). In architecture, it's hard not to recognize the aesthetic of Frank Gehry.

Sometimes it takes awhile to find it. It's harder than it sounds, really. That one thing can be elusive. And we can get distracted from it. Sidetracked.

So I continue to consider: what is my one thing? I'm continually refining my sound, finding my voice, experimenting with different ways to write or perform and let my soul sing out. I love working with artists from other disciplines--dancers, actors, visual artists--because they inspire and challenge me. And I want to actively cultivate this beautiful, rich cultural community in my city. And in this unassuming little city that I presently occupy, it's easy to reach out and connect with those other artists. I'm really grateful for the support I have in this respect--artists here seem very willing to contribute their time and talent for the sake of an intriguing collaboration

Last Saturday, I held a concert at the Cherch, and very much felt like my one thing was being defined. With the love and support of some amazing artists--Anastasia Winterhalt (opera), Richard Carnegie (symphony bassist), Kiya Leier (dancer), Ryan Leier and his crew of yoga performers, and Sam Mitchell (flute/mandolin/percussion/vocals), I was able to bring together an amazing group of people and friends. At the Cherch, Cathy (www.hornofplenty.ca) brought her ceramic art and jewellry--wearing my new necklace now!! Jack Pine Press brought their poetry books. Adam Finn and Laura Hosaluk hung their art. And Esther Parry brought her fashions.

And then, the audience. The audience came. Unheard of in Saskatoon, over half of the tickets for the show sold in advance. And we packed the Cherch. The chairs were full, the room was hot, people crowded in the doorways and aisles and stood and watched in total rapture. They laughed and applauded and participated and bought art and were so supportive.

And the volunteers--Lynn Nellis, Adam and Theresa Finn, Chandra Pederson selflessly devoted their time and energy to serving and hosting and cleaning and ticket taking, creating order out of chaos and managing the event with beauty and enthusiasm. Amazing folks.

I'm telling you all about this because I'm feeling tremendously grateful for the space and support and collaborations that made the concert at the Cherch happen. I feel like my one thing happened at that show--it was about making art, making music, while creating community and serving a neighborhood--Riversdale in Saskatoon--which is riddled with social issues. I continue to think about how art communities can change the world, and I'm very focused on Riversdale as the first site that needs our attention.

Meeting Mary Gonzales

2009-01-28T22:06:00.000-08:00

Right now I’m looking at Mary Gonzales’ handwriting—her phone number and email address scrawled down among my notes from her lecture. I’m not even sure how I got there exactly, but this past Friday, I found myself in a modest, outdated Lutheran church surrounded by young activists and old believers and everyone in between, listening in joyful rapture to Mary Gonzales talk about community organizing.

This is the woman who worked alongside Barak Obama, and I would be lying if I didn’t confess that this is the only drawing card that brought me to the Redeemer Lutheran church on a Friday night. I am just as captivated as the rest of the world when it comes to Obama. I only regret my t-shirt has not arrived in the mail in time for Mary’s lecture.

She is motivated and energetic. She doesn’t use a mic because her booming, musical voice doesn’t need one. She talks about the projects that she’s worked on, describing everyday people working towards a common purpose to solve social problems. Solve. Win. Overcome.

And then she turns to us. The audience. The ball is in our court now. What are we going to do with it?

I suppose that is the question I’m asking, as I look at her handwriting in my book. What am I going to do with it? There is no question in Mary Gonzales’ mind that we are all magnificent. She is training people to believe in their own magnificence. And when they come to believe in their own brilliant power, they also come to realize that they have a responsibility to share it, use it for good, pass it on.

I had to introduce myself to her after the lecture. I had to shake her hand and thank her for reminding us of our responsibility to each other. I soaked up a few more of her stories and easy laughter. I think there are notebooks all around the world with Mary’s handwriting. “This is my personal cell number,” she tells every eager listener as they watch her jot down her name and contact info. And that in itself becomes a call to action.

Thoughts on Wickramatunga

2009-01-28T22:05:00.001-08:00

Last night on the CBC, I heard the story of Lasantha Wickramatunga, an editor of the Sri Lankan newspaper Sunday Leader, who was recently gunned down by two men on motorcycles. Wickramatunga knew that he was going to be killed; he just didn't know when. So he wrote a "letter from the grave" that was to be published after his death.

In his letter, Wickramatunga outlines the Sri Lankan government's attempt to silence voices critical of their actions and policies. He describes the atmosphere of terror and violence that has taken over Sri Lanka during their civil war. With resignation that is both awful and inspiring, he acknowledges that the government will arrange for his death, and they will call it a tragedy, and they will launch an investigation that goes nowhere.

As the CBC read parts of Wickramatunga's letter from the grave, I was horrified and saddened by his accounts. He talked of terror that I find it hard even to imagine, let alone endure. But at the end of the letter, the editor shifted the tone of his address:

"That The Sunday Leader will continue fighting the good fight, too, is written. For I did not fight this fight alone. Many more of us have to be - and will be - killed before The Leader is laid to rest. I hope my assassination will be seen not as a defeat of freedom but an inspiration for those who survive to step up their efforts. Indeed, I hope that it will help galvanize forces that will usher in a new era of human liberty in our beloved motherland. I also hope it will open the eyes of your President to the fact that however many are slaughtered in the name of patriotism, the human spirit will endure and flourish."

Right now, I am reading the stunning account of Ayaan Hirsi Ali, who was raised in a strict Muslim family and has become an outspoken "champion of free speech" in her book Infidel. The story is painful, terrifying, sad. But after I heard about Wickramatunga on the CBC and went home to read his letter online, I realized that Ayaan's story is also inspiring, miraculous, and hopeful.

I feel blessed to hear about these stories of tremendous people who fight for poetry and justice and freedom, even when their lives are threatened, their bodies are assaulted, their spirits are tested. It makes me grateful beyond words to live where I live, and inspires me to be active about issues big and small that make my world a better place.

I need to thank all of you who display such purpose, strength and conviction. I need to thank all of my friends, the people in my community who do the same. They may not be risking their lives, but they take action each day to make sure our communities are healthy, vibrant, soulful, just, diverse, inclusive, and prosperous--and what abundance they reap, they share and give.

I believe that mirrors are powerful things. A sure step towards greatness is surrounding oneself with people who display that quality. So I'm grateful this week for these stories surrounding me--about heroism. I'll use that as a reminder, not of the evil that still exists in the world and the violence and terror that many endure on a daily basis. Instead, I'll accept Wickramatunga's invitation to be inspired by his death, to be hopeful, to be active and empowered to change the world.

The Cherch: Place of Art Worship

2008-12-02T10:02:00.001-08:00

Last week gave me the urge to hit the road, to book the next tour, to be out there on stage every night again. Lately, I’ve been building a new nest—a barn in fact—and making a new creative space where I can write and play and sing. The barn is no metaphor—we actually restored an abandoned confectionary store in Saskatoon, and inside, we recreated a small barn with salvaged wood from an actual barn out on the prairie. In front of those big barn doors is a small stage, perfect for house concerts. And inside the barn, my guitars hang on the wall, books line the walls, and amps clutter the floor. Beside the barn, we built a grain elevator where my lover’s office lies. And the kitchen is wrapped in corrugated steel—a grain silo in the middle of the space. We took a confectionary store and turned it into a creative incubator full of these structures and named it the Hayloft. And so we’ll build and tweak and fix and love and live and cook and feed and sing in the Hayloft forever.

Last week, we filled the Hayloft with our friends, as it was meant to be. On Tuesday, Coco Love Alcorn, Simon and Michael (her bass player) stayed over while they were touring through Saskatoon. And Peter Katz, also on tour, came a day early. Peter played at the Hayloft on Wednesday for our first house concert since moving in. The company was fantastic—an odd mixture of people I did and didn’t know. And we started the night with storytelling by playwright and CBC radio host Kelly Jo Burke. There was a lot of heart and soul flowing through the Hayloft that night, and as people left, they literally glowed with inspiration and wine and food and conversation.

Hanging out with Peter and Coco made me so eager to go on tour again. In March, I’ll go to Nashville. In June, I’ll head east on a Canadian tour. And I’m so restless for these adventures. But last week also reminded me of how new and inspiring my own town can be when we’re creative, bring together amazing people, participate in making great art—okay the wine, the food…also enticing.

Maybe this is the vision that Curt and I had in our heads when we saw the church. The abandoned Chinese Mennonite church is located in a sketchy area of town that suburbanites fear and artists love. We bought it not entirely sure of what we would do with it, and immediately put the call out to every musician, artist, performer, writer, and dancer we knew seeking ideas for how this space could be used. The response was so overwhelming that we totally committed to using the church as an art space, no matter what that meant. So we designated it The Cherch: Place of Art Worship and started getting to work on the most important first step to develop this space….planning the party.

I’m using The Cherch as an excuse to bring together as many artists from as many different disciplines as we can for a crazy party on Dec 12 (get tickets here!) So far, we’ve got DJ Gaff to set a party groove, interrupted with “art happenings” all night. The art happenings are diverse: we’ve got a poet, performance artists, musicians, an opera singer, dancers, actors, and visual artists. We’ve got galleries displaying their work, a small publishing house selling poetry, and a fashion designer setting up shop.

So until I’m on the road again, I’m keeping my scene pretty fresh and the music flowing—songwriting in the barn, worshipping in the Cherch. Hope to see you there Dec 12.

Stripped Down on Shaw

2008-10-20T20:45:00.000-07:00

I think I really like television. I mean, I don't own a television and I've never been a real fan of watching it. But being on tv is quite fun. Check out Shaw's Stripped Down series with Curtis Anderson (http://www.myspace.com/strippeddownsask). We taped the episode on Oct 8 and had a blast.

Songs of Prairie Kids

2008-10-20T20:30:00.000-07:00

We’ve been waiting for over a year to move into our new home—a converted grocery store that is now our abode after 12 months of intense renovations. But on Friday we slept there for the first time, and on Saturday we celebrated with a totally amazing party! So on Sunday, when I left for Goodsoil, I was slow and tired and happy. The rain followed me for three hours, and I listened to an audio book as I drove into the night.

Goodsoil is almost as far north as I’ve ever been in Saskatchewan. Driving up here, the paved highway gave way to gravel on a few occasions with impressive potholes worsened by the intense rain over the past few days. My poor car. Tomorrow I’ll be doing songwriting workshops with the kids at Goodsoil School, and all month I’m traveling to the far reaches of Saskatchewan doing the same in other schools. I keep passing through these small towns, not exactly sure how I ended up here, but what a chance to be exposed to different people and lifestyles and geographies.

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The workshop and performance at Goodsoil school was fantastic. In every school I visit, I take the mornings to teach the kids about songwriting, and they teach me about themselves. By noon, we've written a song: chosen a topic, brainstormed a storyline, developed images and music, decided on arrangements and the performance of the song and recorded it. Right after lunch, I do a show for the entire school and my student co-writers get up and perform the song they just wrote in the morning.

In Goodsoil, I worked with the choir, which meant all the kids were really into music. They wrote about Snow Days, and who in Saskatchewan CAN'T identify with the excitement of having school closed due to heavy snowfalls! I loved reliving this moment with the choir. Working in the music room, we furiously gathered shakers and bells and whistles to incorporate into the song. Total fun!

Afterwards, I checked out Main Street in Goodsoil before heading back to the resort just outside of town where I’m staying. Went to the Coop and bought myself a pair of rubber boots so I could go sloshing through the countryside on an afternoon adventure. I found a whole farm full of buffalo grazing, and deemed the moment worthy of a snapshot. So I tried to take a picture by setting the timer and placing the camera on the roof of my car. I posed, smiling foolishly with the confused and/or apathetic buffalo grazing behind me, and waited for the flash. I'm not sure if I maintained that grin as the wind picked up and blew the camera off my hood and into a mud puddle.

Truly this was some of the most picturesque farmland I’ve ever seen. It could be the setting sun and the fall colors in the trees. There is an old red barn on a gently sloping hill that is surrounded by yellow and orange bushes. At the base of the slope, a small lake glistens in the setting sunlight.

I went back to my lodgings for supper, was in for a treat: leftovers from our housewarming party that I packed with me. My hosts seem quite perplexed as to why I would bring my own food—they think I’m funny. But I’m feasting on shrimp and that amazing bean dish and such. And my mother-in-law’s homemade salsa—so sweet and just enough bite to fire up my sinuses and help drain out the last bits of this autumn cold that I think I caught in one of the schools.

The morning after

2008-09-14T11:30:00.000-07:00

Sunday morning. We dress because there is a fall chill in the air. You make eggs. What kind of eggs are those? I ask, but I don’t want any. I have collected every secluded piece of fruit exiled to our kitchen and assembled a brilliant, colorful fruit salad. When the fruit season ends, I’ll enter a period of mourning.

The show last night. It returns to me under the haze of Sunday morning. The people, the conversations, the music, the yoga performers, the opera singer, the opening band (Jodi King) on a brutal road trip from Winnipeg. It is beautiful and unique and from this distance, I can see features and details in the architecture of the evening that I never saw from the inside.

Hmmm. Beautiful Sunday. I saw people pouring out of church and squint against the sun, streaming through golden leaves that are clinging to their branches until the next freeze destroys the visual impact of autumn. Gold coins flittering in the wind, the leaves give an impression of wealth. Wholeness.

When I got home from the west coast tour, I was immersed in getting ready for the show last night. So the week has been a blur. It’s only been a week! And I was so very negligent in keeping my blog updated.

Following is a pic of me performing at Hermann’s Jazz club in Victoria during the west coast tour, with my great friend Wynn Gogol. Wynn is an amazing player and producer—and we wrote a great song together while I was out on the west coast. I’ve dedicated more time to co-writing these days, and it’s so rewarding to experience the connection and share the creative vibe. But I have to give huge props to Wynn, a very perceptive producer, for directing the flow of that co-writing experience and honoring it! Thanks to our friend Darcy Beck for the picture!