Ok so I’m a little late on this one…I’m not the best at these blog things I admit. It’s just not quite the same as putting pen to paper for me…In any case, at the beginning of the month Théo and I did another whirlwind tour of 4 days, performing in Ottawa, Toronto and Montréal (at Umi Café, Free Times Café and a house concert respectively) before returning to the farm in the Eastern Townships.

The fact that my main accompaniest has an organic beef and dairy farm has indeed proven to have certain…ehem…constraints. Unlike children, one cannot simply convince 40 bovines to take a roadtrip. Telling yourself that you’ll be able to put up with their whining and back seat arguments is no solution. No amount of books on tape will keep these fuzzy mammals entertained. Not to mention the parking fees.

All that to say, I’ve taken to a model of hit and run performance, where I book three or four shows into three or four days (last weekend we did four shows in three days…), which appears to be the maximum comfort limit for asking someone to replace him as daily caretaker. The result is the I feel almost perpetually on ‘tour,’ either in extreme extroversion or in the three R mode (recovery, reflection, rehearsal).

It’s quite the life. I have to admit I find it extremely fun, despite my qualms about participating in the oil economy with all the required transportation. I hope to find a solution to converting my car this year…open to suggestions. That or shrink Canada, I’m not sure which is within my budget.

My apologies and thanks to all my wonderful friends who feed and house me on my travels and whom I rarely feel like I have enough time to spend catching up with!

A few days after my return from tour I was whisked away to perform as part of 6 Pieds Sur Terre at the Festi-Rock in Richmond, QC.

From Thursday to Saturday band members from the eight selected semi-finalist groups participated in workshops with various members of the Quebec music industry. We were introduced to the details of music marketing, the ins and outs and terminology of the Quebec industry and recounted a plethora of anecdotes from days of yore when artists were routinely ripped off and enslaved for life by music labels across the continent. The whole picture was a tad depressing.

Basically the majority of people in ‘the industry’ are telling the next wave that they are up against a wall of indifference and oversupply. Whereas once people could get famous quick , but never rich (because they became indebted to sleezy music producers due to lack of free technology for the indie artist), now, they say, it’s almost impossible to be noticed despite the fact that one can create radio quality art from ones own basement. The narrative is one of new opportunities = new struggles.

Where, I ask you, is the room for faith in abundance?The room for optimism? Why are we replicating the story that life is suffering into the very domain that is,at its heart, aimed at relieving us and spreading life, light and joy? I’m tired of hearing that being ‘realistic’ means being overworked, burnt out and uncertain. The path to soulless music appears to be paved with good intentions…Show me the middle road!

Despite the dire warnings, there was also a lot of very useful information and contacts made over the course of the workshops. Caroline Giguere and Louis-Philip Hebert gave us a great vocal workshop in preparation for our performance and Guillaume Deziel of Misteur Vallere shared a lot of insights on marketing strategies etc for bands in the information age.

The highlight of the weekend was indisputably being able to meet all the other artists who participated in  the festival. The winners of the contest, Shekele, is absolutely wonderful in live performance, with intense crescendos and creative percussion that shakes audiences to their roots.  Shekele is based in Montreal and is composed of five young men from the area, all of whom struck me as both exuberant and humble. A nice change from the stereotypically egocentric ‘rock star’.

Other bands included Sapiens (really awesome ‘philosophical rock’), Saint-Polaire, Les Mandibules (another personal favorite) , Playground,  Stephan Turgeon Band, and Dylerique.

6 Pieds Sur Terre came in fourth, so was not included in the finalists, however we were recognized with two prizes: one for best lyrics for our song Accroche-sourire with text by Marie-Pier Landry and an english slam piece by myself; and the prize of an outdoor concert in Sherbrooke’s Place de la Cite in July 2010.We were also given the category of ‘rock bio,’ clearly distinguishing us as earth-loving hippies with posi music amidst the crash and roar of electric, almost exclusively male, bands.Go figure. We like singing about flowers and gardening.

We are now in the process of working on our demo. As I end this post it is snowing buckets outside and I am waiting for life to reveal it’s next plans for me…

On the bus from Sudbury to Toronto…my eventual destination, Peterborough, seems further away with every late departure. As happens frequently, I am reminded of Star Trek-’Captains log, stardate 200211…returning from a mission in the alpha quadrant…’

Snapshots :

In my mothers childhood home in old St-Vital, Winnipeg, my uncle and I pull out the World atlas. We zoom in on the trans-Canada highway…I trace the red line with my finger. ‘Vancouver, Victoria, Edmonton, Saskatoon, Roseisle, Winnipeg…’ The names feel like old friends I would recognize on the street, maybe even call out to, smiling, welcoming the familiarity of acquaintance.

Never anything beyond that though. We know each others names, have laughed at some of the same jokes at the same parties, but never breeched any serious topics. Until now.

I feel like I am discovering this country for the first time.

These cities underbellies reveal themselves through the narratives of those that live there, those people and homes that shelter me from the February nights. ‘It’s a car city ,» people say of; Vancouver, Edmonton, Saskatoon, Winnipeg, Victoria…’ Gentrification scars the landscape in each place I visit.

In Alberta we drove through 3 hours of landscape where the mountains looked like graveyards, the trees all toppled over, lifeless. « Probably from burning » says uncle Rawle. Still, in the moment I watched the train curve its way around the mountains like a colourful viper and wondered about clear-cutting as we passed a well-stocked lumber mill. Was it? Could we be that stupid?

The Edmonton bus station : People are now routinely searched before boarding greyhound buses. In Edmonton I found a refreshing camraderie amongst the older generation boarding the bus…we laughed and laughed as the old ladies were searched for dangerous objects.

A guy named Jason plunks himself down next me saying ‘ you have an extraordinary look about you…do you mind if I sit next to you on the bus so we can chat?’ His green and gold eyes and open face give me nothing to worry about. Four hours later a new friend has been made.

In Saskatoon I remember the feeling of being a walking target, the feeling of being perceived as a native women in an area where these women disappear on a regular basis, where ‘sensible whites’ refuse to associate with these thieving, good for nothing…people.

‘This land is your land, this land is our land…but only if you’re made in Canada…’ This poem, written in response to the theme ‘Made in Canada’ given by the CBC for a slam I once participated in, is on a loop in my inner ear. ‘These women were not made in Canada…but a land before canada was made, a maiden canada…’

Twelve hours from Saskatoon to Winnipeg…At each bus stop one of the passengers gets off and tells the restaraunt workers that the chip machine ate his money. Hopefully the $4 per stop accumulates up to something worthwhile, something that might ease his heavy pacing, his erratic, frantic body language. Is our observation without intereference part of some kind of solidarity between passengers?

The air is lively with talk- philosophy, right and wrong, buddhism, what does it mean to be spiritual? To practice spiritualiy? Music…music as connection, music as a means of living compassion, of spreading love…music music music. People are supportive, interested, inspired- ‘ you’re doing this all alone?’ ‘you mean you just decided to go on a tour and…did?’ Well…yyeeeeah?

People want to talk to me about Quebec, about the politics of language, about my accent or my lack of accent (‘oh, you don’t sound like you’re from Quebec at all,’ ‘yeah, i could totally tell, you have a bit of an accent »), about my heritage and upbringing. When I say that I’m part Indian I add, almost apologetically ‘from India.’

There’s something about it. The complete unknown of each day. The encounters, unplanned, with complete strangers and kindred spirits. The ability to leap and know you will be caught somewhere before you hit bottom. Traveling, to me, is about restoring faith in life. Caught in a wheel of reaction, life moving so fast around you, there is nothing to do but open both hands to the sky and say ‘what will it be then?’ And believe it’ll all be for the best.

One week ago Mubarak resigned from office. The morning after my performance in Edmonton there are festivals in the streets across the globe.Now shooting in Bharain. Protesters shot in Iran, Libya…Who knows what tomorrow brings? What meaning does this work I’m doing have in the context of all this upheaval…

Before each performance I ask myself ‘why?’ Stepping down from stage I say ‘I see, thanks for reminding me.’ It’s hard not to feel like performing is a completely self-centered activity (why do I think self-centered activity is a bad thing? I know, i know…). And it can be. But when I am standing up there now, when I feel my self standing, strong, eyes glowing outwards, words pouring from my heart I know there is something more to it. I haven’t found anything quite like this in terms of intensive growth methods for the soul. And I feel utterly transformed. Maybe it’d that this is the year of the rabbit, maybe it’s many years of self-exploration paying off…whatever it is, I all of a sudden feel good, really good, about performing. I feel I am able to humanize the experience, to reach out and offstage into peoples eyes and hearts. Am I foolng myself? The conversations that trip off tongues after each sharing lead me to believe not.

A 17 hour bus ride from Vancouver to Edmonton? Why yes, I would love to!

I had hoped that might be the longest stretch I would be doing on the greyhound this time round but alas, I had forgotten the deadly expanse of…Ontario. Sigh.

For now I’m in Saskatoon, after a 6 hour jaunt on the bus yesterday.Performing at a weekly poetry slam event called Tonight It’s Poetry. Having lived in rural francophone Quebec for the past couple years I haven’t really had much opportunity to perform spoken word so I’m both excited and a wee bit nervous. (“What if I’ve lost my chops? …Whaddya mean, chops? What kind of expression is that? Great, now you’re arguing with yourself on your own blog…”). Moving on.

The show in Edmonton was held at Leva Cappuccino bar.There was a nice crowd and the employees were really helpful and accommodating. I also must mention that Leva has great coffee, but definitely the best tiramisu I have ever had!!!Ok, so I don’t know if I’d ever had tiramisu before, and maybe there’s something about the irregular eating schedules and greyhound bus fare of travel that make anything the slightest bit decadent seem extraordinary…but still. I’m pretty sure it was really really good.

I would also like to note that Leva is the one and only venue where I’m performing that guarantees an artist salary for performing. Everywhere else is pass the hat or door and cd sale profits, which is extremely variable. I appreciate that many venues are barely scraping by…but it is nice to feel appreciated and valued as well.

Having heard the horror stories of other independent cross-country performers I am grateful for the average 20 some people who have been showing up to my performances!It helps to have family at all quarters of the earth sometimes…

How I Organized the Tour

Most people I’ve met on the trip have asked me how I went about organizing my tour, so let me put it in writing for those of you still wondering.

First off, I contacted friends I would like to visit in different towns asking if they a) knew someone who owned a venue b) could think of venues in their area that would be appropriate for my work c) would like to host or organize an event for me d) if they would do promotion if I get something set up. I also looked up lists of venues and reviews posted by other artists.

After the first round I then began contacting recommended venues or, if none were to be had, doing my own research on the internet.

Then commences a seemingly endless back and forth with the venues in question to make sure they have everything that they need for promotion and everything I need for performing. Making posters, sending posters, putting dates and venues on line, emailing contacts in each city…

So there you have it. Pretty simple, yet extremely time demanding.

The day started off with a bang. The whole day I felt an intense pressure from above, as if events were being driven by some unstoppable force that I could observe but not interact with. I’ll spare some of the details, but many many little things decided to go awry.

Having been out for a beer the night before Rin got up a bit later than she’d intended…and so the time crunch was on!To make a long story short, after a bit of a stressful and rushed morning we made it to the ferry on time (ferries leave for the island every 2 hours and it’s then another hour and a half bus ride to Victoria).

On the ferry I met a fellow traveler who was from the Yukon. The benefit of traveling with instruments is that you will always attract musicians, which generally leads to positive interactions and connections for future trips…the banjo tends to weed out the less eccentric artists, so conversations never fail to be interesting. And when in lack of words someone can always pick out a tune. Small world that it is, he of course knew my one friend from Whitehorse. We parted ways and Rin and I continued our trek.

Exhaustedly arriving in downtown Victoria we walked to the venue (Camas Infoshop) and were met…by an explosive argument!

(A little background info- the person responsible for booking at Camas had contacted us to let us know they had double booked by mistake but that we could perform after the “discussion” being held before us.)

The argument when we arrive is because there is a guy at the door handing out flyers blasting one of the evenings speakers, Jon Szerzan, a primitivist anarchist. Another man is standing yelling at him that he isn’t allowed to pass this out in front of the venue.

We walk uncomfortable by and ask inside who to speak to about our show. The guy at the desk knows nothing about our performance and points us to ‘the organizer,’ none other than the guy yelling outside. Rin goes out to interupt and after some tense conversation figures out that there is in fact no one at the shop who’s been informed of our scheduled performance. The guy, who introduces himself as Conrad, isn’t even willing to guarantee that he’ll ‘remember’ to mention our performance in his opening words for the discussion. Which it turns out, is actually going to be a heated debate on the topic of Civilization and how best to address environmental collapse.

Great.

As the room quickly begins filling up with anarchists of all shapes and sizes we decide to regroup next door at Cafe Fantastico. The people at the cafe are friendly and welcoming, in stark contrast to the scene we just left. Both of us are feeling somewhat uncertain and flustered, not to mention aggravated at having traveled an entire day to a place where no one knows we’re performing.

We head to the Fairway to eat something before keeling over from malnourishment and exhaustion, then wander back to wait outside the cramped Infoshop. I can feel the brain power emmanating off the building as people pull out all their academic references and theorize about how to save the world. Stopping to chat with the guy flyering at the door (who is from Montreal and much nicer than the organizers at Camas, dare I say) I am interupted by someone wanting to argue with him about communist-marxist anarchism. As the name dropping begins ( “Heidegger said…”) I give up all hope of non-confrontatinal interaction and excuse myself.

Having donned my clown nose for personal protection, I am loitering outside the venue with Rin and a few traveler kids when my friend Dana walks up. A woman from Camas comes out and shushes us and we move on to the park , feeling less and less welcome as the evening wears on. Dana mentions that her partner is playing at another venue across town in a half hour. I ask if we could add ourselves to the show. After some back and forth we decide to ditch the debate house and walk off to the Dark Horse Bookstore jus in time to store our bags and settle in to listen to the first band, Vital Hands.

They are great performers and the crowd is warm and supportive. The store smells like incense and everyone is sitting on the floor, surrounded by bookshelves. I feel immediately comfortable.

Rin and I play our sets, still a bit imbalanced from the series of events.

The Hollow Walls play after us, you can listen to their work here.

Again, it was wonderful to be surrounded by such amazing women musicians- for the first time in a while I felt motivated to apply myself to mastering an instrument. It also made me realize the extent to which I wish I had a traveling performance partner. Hey universe, you listening? Need I specifiy, someone I get along with and who has similar values and goals?

For one of my last pieces, Take me Away, Jillian from Vital Hands accompanied my on beatbox. These moments of spontaneous collaboration are what make intimate show like this so nourishing…

So, after much kerfuffle and uncertainty, the day ended well with a long walk back to Dana’s home and a comfortable couch to sleep on.

The next day I spent wandering around Victoria with Dana. We just missed the New Years march in China town- Victoria apparently has the oldest Chinatown in Canada ( second only to San Francisco in North America).

On a bus bound for Edmonton…passing through Chilliwack, BC, surrounded by the rockie mountains; snow-capped peaks reach towards a sky glorious with sun.

As I write this someone jumps in front of the bus as its pulling out from the stop…the bus driver swears, opens the door. “Kelowna? Kelowna,” waving ticket and cell phone the would-be passenger frantically demands an answer…  “NO, and don’t do that again,” our driver replies. The jumper walks off muttering “fuck you…” The driver slams open the door and chases after him, “What did you say?” I mentally prepare to witness blows, but things de-escalate and we set off again.

This little event is a prime example of the unpredictability of travel. As soon as you start thinking you have your bearing an can expect smooth sailing…from behind the next hill comes a storm cloud…or sometimes a rainbow.

How does one capture the intensity of journeying in language? The great storyteller doesn’t worry about how to comunicate ‘everything.’ But how to make the listener feel the cold dampness of a coastal breeze, see the purple hues of winter clad mountains? Those are questions worth considering.

I guess to start I can tell I took a five hour break between beginning the writing of this post and now. The majesty of the rockies and novelty of the landscape around every turn is breathtaking.

Confronted with our own insignificance in the face of the immensity and vast spaces of this wilderness it’s easier to understand why some people respond with the agressive self-defense driven destruction and ‘ordering’ of the environment around the. We strike out to Control that which is so much beyond us, afraid of our own vulnerability. I watch the cars whizz by like ants, the railroad curving its way trepidatiously close to gorges and rockslides and imagine the waves of displaced settlers in this new, intimidating land.

But back o the present, as much as I can assume to know that one exists. I am headed to the third show of my tour from Victoria, BC to Kilaloe, ON. Let me try and summarize some of my adventure so far.

VANCOUVER :

Serendipity was with me from the beginning. Boarding my flight I sit next to an elder gentleman in business attire. We exchange a few words and then I close my eyes, only really waking up for water and our arrival. He helps me get my banjo from overhead and we head to the carousel for luggage. Making my way to the subway I meet him again, also catching the skytrain. As we arrive upstairs the train is about to leave- he gives me a ticket so I won’t miss it (it’s almost 11pm). We chat a bit on the train- he is from Montreal , living in Vancouver. I tell him where I’m heading. It turns out he lives a couple of blocks from my friend Rin who I’m going to be staying with.

His wife and he give me lift from the subway and I arrive safely without having to go through any of what I thought would be a stressful evening of finding my way around a new city in the dark carrying two instruments plus my computer bag. Needless to say, this started me off on the right foot.

The performance was at Spartacus books, a volunteer run Anarchist bookstore on East Hastings that Rin volunteers at. Walking into the shop the day after my arrival I am welcomed by my cousin Gayle who generously offered to be photographer for the evening.

The second arrivals are none other than Daniel and his wife Jennifer who had given me the ride from the airport! After a little crowd of 20 some people gathers (about all that will fit in the space) I start off. The Holdouts (Rin + her friend Miranda) and I switch off sets and the evening passes quickly. I was lucky to have my friend Rosemary to sing backvocals on a few tunes and provide a kazoo solo for Walk By Me Awhile in lieu of saxophone.

It was extremely refreshing to be performing amongst all women my own age. It’s rare that I have the opportunity to collaborate and even just listen to all female bands.

Little did I know this trend was to continue in Victoria the next day…

A quoi resemble l’avant départ d’une musicienne?

La voila!

Un peu de chaos contenu par les murs d’une chambre qui m’acueille pour mon sejour à Montréal…