Yoga for Beginners

 

In the spirit of getting out and having more interesting experiences this year, Kennedy, Rudy, and I decided to go to an event called "Beer Yoga" at the Flux Brewing Co. in Scotland (Ontario) on Sunday. I assumed that this would be an hour of yoga followed by a glass of beer (all I knew ahead of time was that a beer was included in the ticket price), but actually, we were instructed to get a beer when we arrived and to place it at the front of our mat (Rudy does not drink beer, rarely drinks any alcohol, and grabbed a glass of water instead). And throughout the yoga session, the instructor - who was sassy and jokey, while also competently encouraging proper form - would have us pick up the glasses of beer and hold them in various poses, sipping when instructed throughout. It was kind of challenging (these were glasses of beer on a concrete patio out back of the brewery), and we're no yogis, but it was a lot of fun; the weather was gorgeous, we stayed for amazing tuna poke bowls (and another beer) afterwards, and it was a great day out.

Writing about this reminded me of when Rudy and I did puppy yoga in Toronto last summer before the Cyndi Lauper concert (I can't believe I was too disengaged to write about any of that). Puppy yoga is all about the puppies - a gang of roughhousing miniature schnauzers that peed on everyone's yoga mats - and only loosely about the yoga, but it was kind of a hilarious time that I would recommend to anyone, at least once.

Tunesday : Sweet City Woman

 

Sweet City Woman

(Dodson, R) The Stampeders

Well, I'm on my way

To the city lights

To the pretty face

That shines her light on the city nights

And I gotta catch a noon train

I gotta be there on time

Oh, it feels so good to know she waits at the end of the line

Sweet, sweet city woman

I can see your face, I can hear your voice

I can almost touch you

Sweet, sweet city woman

And the banjo and me, we got a feel for singing, yeah, yeah

Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, c'est bon, bon

Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, bon, bon

Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, c'est bon, bon

Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, bon, bon

So long, ma

So long, pa

So long, neighbors and friends

Like a country morning

All snuggled in dew

Ah, she's got a way to make a man feel shiny and new

And she sing in the evening

Old, familiar tunes

And she feeds me love and tenderness and macaroons

Sweet, sweet city woman

I can see your face, I can hear your voice

I can almost touch you

Sweet, sweet city woman

And the banjo and me, we got a feel for singing

Sweet, sweet city woman

Oh she's my sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman

Sweet, sweet city woman

oh my sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman

Everybody

Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman

Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman

Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman

Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman

Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman

Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman

I just got back from another trip with my brother, Ken. He had planned to go out to Calgary to hang with our aunts and uncles there, with the added bonus of going down to Lethbridge, where we went to high school, in order to meet up with some of his old friends. I was seriously uninterested in this trip - I just saw the aunts and uncles when they came to Nova Scotia in February; saw half of them last month in PEI; knew I'd feel like a fifth wheel on the Lethbridge detour - but despite telling Ken I simply didn't want to go, when he asked me again at Laura's birthday in June ("So are you coming to Alberta? You're coming to Alberta. You'll come, won't you?"), like the spinster sister of a Victorian poet, I agreed, once more, to be my brother's travelling companion. And I had fun despite myself.

I don't have a whole story that I want to memorialise about our time in Calgary, except to note that I really enjoyed meeting my (deceased) cousin Trevor's fifteen-year-old daughter, Grace, for the first time. As I noted to Ken, Trevor was my favourite of the cousins we knew (not that we spent all that much time with any of them), and I enjoyed taking Grace to the Calgary Stampede with the aunties: That's a picture of me up there at the rodeo, and the only inspiration for this week's song by The Stampeders (about whom I should have written when we went to their concert last year; great show.)

About the Lethbridge trip: Ken was super nervous on the drive down, chewing the cuticles on his thumbs raw. I guess it is pretty risky to contact a couple of old friends after thirty years to say, "I'm dying and I'm going to be in town and wouldn't it be fun to catch up?" We arrived at our Vrbo (cute old house in the downtown core), went out shopping for snacks and drinks for the gathering, drove past our old house (the brown slab siding had been painted white, but otherwise exactly the same), and toured around the city that has doubled in size over the decades; totally the same and completely different.

Nearly forty years ago, Ken shared a house with two brothers - Eric and Jeff - and it was them that Ken had wanted to see. Eric came to the door, same as he ever was, but Jeff (who is recovering from a massive stroke) had to be helped along by his wife. Eventually, Eric's girlfriend arrived (Eric had divorced his first wife and his second, "the soulmate", died of cancer), and the evening was filled with storytelling, remember-whenning, and so many laughs. Jeff had some difficulty communicating - often using the wrong word, trying to write the correct one in the air, and his wife interpreting - but he was also telling his stories and laughing along. (Ken had hoped to see another of their old friends, Pat, but he had also apparently recently had a stroke and his wife was cagey about visitors.)

The most important thing - and when I put it this way to the aunts and uncles later, Ken agreed - was it was a full circle moment for Ken. When he left Alberta, Ken had no career plan, no education, no partner. He had been a bit of a lowlife through high school, and I don't know if even his friends would have expected much from him. But Ken got to reconnect with the people who knew him best back then, and between the two of us, we told them a story of a guy who runs a twelve million dollar department at one of Canada's biggest hospitals, who's about to celebrate his 30th anniversary with an incredible woman, and who has two kids who are on their own paths to happiness and success (not to mention a close enough relationship with his sister that she travels the country with him, even sometimes against her will). In return we got to learn of these friends' successes - noting that their happiness has not been untinged with loss - and ultimately, there was nothing weird or uncomfortable about the visit. Ken got exactly what he hoped for out of it and I ultimately didn't mind being back in a place to where I never expected to return. Yada yada, we went to Waterton the next day, saw a bear, had a barbecue with Eric and his girlfriend, back to Calgary for several more days, but that evening was the point and the full circle moment and maybe an ending, too. With terminal cancer, Ken finished something here. And I was happy to help him get there.

Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, c'est bon, bon

Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, bon, bon

Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, c'est bon, bon

Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, bon, bon

Tunesday : Something in the Way She Moves

Something in the Way She Moves

Written and performed by James Taylor

There's something in the way she moves
Or looks my way, or calls my name
That seems to leave this troubled world behind
If I'm feeling down and blue
Or troubled by some foolish game
She always seems to make me change my mind

And I feel fine anytime she's around me now
She's around me now
Almost all the time
And if I'm well you can tell she's been with me now
She's been with me now quite a long, long time
And I feel fine

Every now and then the things I lean on lose their meaning
And I find myself careening
In places where I should not let me go
She has the power to go where no one else can find me
Yes and silently remind me
The happiness and the good times that I know, but as I had got to know them

It isn't what she's got to say
Or how she thinks and where she's been
To me, the words are nice, the way they sound
I like to hear them best that way
It doesn't much matter what they mean
What she says them mostly just to calm me down

And I feel fine anytime she's around me now
She's around me now
Almost all the time
If I'm well you can tell she's been with me now
She's been with me now quite a long, long time
Yes and I feel fine

In this, the year of us getting out and seeing more concerts, striving to have more experiences in general, Dave and I decided to spend the weekend of our 34th anniversary in Toronto. On Friday night, we went to the Budweiser Stage to see the incomparable James Taylor. After a relatably gourmet dinner downtown at Richmond Station, we decided to walk to the venue - about an hour away, but we had lots of time and the weather was fine and it felt good to stretch our legs after the drive in to the city. From the moment the concert began, James Taylor was everything you would hope he would be: a humble and engaging storyteller, a man who obviously lives and breathes the music he plays, and a legacy performer who still has his chops. Our seats were off the side in the fourth row, but nearly immediately, we joined others at the front of the stage. Dave has a couple of pictures of me singing along on the jumbotron, countless closeups of Taylor losing himself in his guitar playing, and when the show was over, Dave joined others seeking an autograph - and that's Taylor up there signing Dave's concert T-shirt. James Taylor is one of those performers who has featured regularly in the soundtrack of our relationship - my Dad and I danced to How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You) at my wedding - and he sang every one of our favourite songs at the show; I can't rave enough about how wonderful the experience was.

As we were leaving the venue afterward - us and thousands of other aging fans - there was a young guy with a bicycle rickshaw, knowingly blasting James Taylor music. And when he asked Dave if we wanted a ride, he said, "For sure!" We proceeded to be driven through the city - in and out of traffic, through parks and past people waiting in line at bars - with that music blasting; us singing along, so many people smiling and waving at us from cars, and as Dave said later, it was just slightly less douchey than the time we took a helicopter to a coffee shop. But, boy was it fun!

On Saturday night, we went to see Jeff Golblum & the Mildred Snitzer Orchestra at Massey Hall. We had no idea what to expect with this show, but as we do like Goldblum's quirkiness, and we wanted to fill a weekend, it seemed like a fun option. This venue was closer to our hotel, so after a satisfying meal at Spring Sushi - on a rooftop overlooking Dundas Square, the weather and vibe were perfect - we strolled over to Massey Hall and took our front row balconey seats (we were literally as close as this picture Dave took looks). Goldblum came out alone at first to riff with the crowd (introducing his Canadian inlaws, thanking the PR folks who had lined up press for him earlier in the day, regaling us with insider Hollywood stories), and after playing "The Movie Game" (someone in the audience names a movie and Goldblum names an obscure actor in it and then someone else needs to shout out another movie that person has been in, on and on), Goldblum then said, "Oh oh oh, we can play the anthem game. Someone sings a national anthem - it doesn't have to be The Stars and Stripes - and then, oh oh oh, it could be O Canada..." He started the first line, and then suddenly, everyone started singing, here and there people stood until we all were standing and singing - with Goldblum kneeling on stage with his hat over his heart - and I don't think that went the way he had planned, lol. When it was done, he said, "Usually someone sings something really obscure and then we all learn it, but that was good. Yes, good." (And that was as close as he got to acknowledging the political in these trying times. By contrast, Taylor opened the night before with, "It's good to be here in Canada. And just let me say sorry for...well, you know." We appreciated that.)

I was initially a bit disappointed when the orchestra (jazz ensemble) came out and Goldblum sat at the piano with his back to us, but eventually, I appreciated our perspective. Goldblum plays like a super enthusiastic fan: he is surprisingly capable, but he let the rest of the band do the heavy lifting, with him noodling and plinking away at adding periodic syncopation, spending at least half the time turned towards the audience, gawkily spinning those long and gangly arms and legs, clapping and stomping or snapping his fingers to the beat, and perhaps you had to be seated behind him, as we were, to see how little he was actually playing but completely enjoying himself. It was all classic jazz tunes, and while Goldblum sang a couple of songs himself, the feature singer was Khailah Johnson (who had just finished starring on Broadway in "& Juliet") and she was sublime. We went in not knowing what to expect, and left thoroughly entertained.

Also: It was Pride Weekend in Toronto, and there was a real party atmosphere in the city, with the sidewalks downtown full of couples and groups of friends, some in fun colours, all smiling and vibing. Our hotel was near Nathan Philips Square, and every time we walked past, there were performers on the stage, folks dancing in the crowd, and just a general atmosphere of celebration and goodwill. We had a wonderful weekend, beginning to end.

Now, I could have chosen any number of songs for this Tunesday, but when Taylor starting singing this one, Dave grabbed my hand and said, "It has been a long, long time, and I feel fine." What better sentiment than that for an anniversary weekend?

And I feel fine anytime she's around me now

She's around me now

Almost all the time

If I'm well you can tell she's been with me now

She's been with me now quite a long, long time

Yes and I feel fine

Tunesday : Sultans of Swing

 

Sultans of Swing

 Metal Cover by Leo Moracchioli

You get a shiver in the dark

It's raining in the park but meantime

South of the river you stop and you hold everything

A band is blowing Dixie, double four time

You feel alright when you hear the music ring

Well, now you step inside but you don't see too many faces

Coming in out of the rain, they hear the jazz go down

Competition in other places

Uh, but the horns they blowin' that sound

Way on down south

Way on down south, London town

You check out guitar George, he knows all the chords

Mind, it's strictly rhythm he doesn't want to make it cry or sing

They said an old guitar is all he can afford

When he gets up under the lights to play his thing

And Harry doesn't mind if he doesn't make the scene

He's got a daytime job, he's doing alright

He can play the honky tonk like anything

Savin' it up for Friday night

With the Sultans

We're the Sultans of Swing

Then a crowd of young boys, they're foolin' around in the corner

Drunk and dressed in their best, brown baggies and their platform soles

They don't give a damn about any trumpet playin' band

It ain't what they call rock and roll

And the Sultans

Yeah, the Sultans, they play Creole, Creole

And then the man, he steps right up to the microphone

And says at last just as the time bell rings

"Goodnight, now it's time to go home"

Then he makes it fast with one more thing

"We are the Sultans

We are the Sultans of Swing"

I'm just back from another trip to Nova Scotia with my brother Ken (hanging on longer than expected with terminal cancer, there's places he's been wanting to go and I have happily tagged along). Yet, with nothing really new about yet another trip down to see our parents and spending time at the family property, I thought I might just write about this song and the time we spent down by the campfire.

Ken and I drove down together - timing it so we could pick Dave up from the Halifax airport as we rolled on through - and we were joined the next day by our younger brother, Kyler. Now, if there's one thing I've learned over the last year travelling with Ken, he would rather watch YouTube videos than regular TV, and when it was just the three of us siblings (Dave generally out in the yard looking for tasks to keep himself busy), there was a bit of a power struggle between my brothers and what each of them thought would be amusing to the group: Ken searching for the one Leo Maracchioli cover that Kyler would admit was kind of cool (the song I chose here being one he has played for me more than once on our trips), Kyler preferring short clips from Adam Sandler movies or The Simpsons (me honestly not caring one way or the other).

We decided to have a campfire one night and Ken brought out his speaker, blasting his favourite 90s grunge/alternative hits. Eventually, Ken played the Dire Straits version of Sultans of Swing, saying (surprisingly) that it's probably his favourite song of all time. He asked Kyler what his favourite song was (some obscure Led Zeppelin, which Ken found and played), and he asked me what my favourite was and I said the Santana featuring Rob Thomas smash radio hit Smooth (I don't know if it's my favourite, but it's a song that always makes me smile and want to sing along; the right song in context) and he played that, too. Then it was Dave's turn and he said If I Can Dream by Elvis Presley, and from nearly the beginning of its slow and solemn orchestral vibe, Kyler turned and said, "This can not be your favourite song." And of course Dave was hurt and offended - he had listened respectfully to everyone else's - but that's just kind of the way Kyler is and Dave continued to sing through gritted teeth, me joining in supportively.

After the weekend, Dave flew home and Kennedy and Ella flew out to join us for the rest of the week. Perhaps I'll note here that I took the girls to Captain Kat's Lobster Shack in Barrington Passage - voted home of the best lobster roll this year - and we had an amazing lunch (and time away from all that rivalling testosterone).

And I should also note that we had a second campfire for the girls (that's Ken and Kennedy at the top), and again, Ken brought out his speaker and controlled what everyone was listening to - until Kennedy synced in and played a few more current songs for her and Ella. Eventually, Kennedy and I were tired and said goodnight. And as we walked back up to the house, Kennedy asked me if there was a song she should sneak in to prank them, and I replied, "Ooooh, how about A Little Bitty Tear?" (I just searched and yes, I did once write here about the time a teenaged Kyler took revenge on Ken by playing Burl Ives outside his window after he got home late. Classic brotherly prank.) And as the song started playing back at the campfire, Kyler began freaking out, "Wait! Are you playing this? This is the biggest coincidence right now. You don't even know. Do you remember the time...?" And Ken pointed at us over on the porch and said, "Kennedy's right there." And we laughed and Kyler said a sour, "Oh", and we had to sleep with the fan on to white noise out the grunge that continued playing out by the campfire until even the diehards could stand it no more.

And then the man, he steps right up to the microphone

And says at last just as the time bell rings

"Goodnight, now it's time to go home"

Then he makes it fast with one more thing

"We are the Sultans

We are the Sultans of Swing"

Tunesday: We Built This City

 

We Built This City

(Songwriters: Dennis Lambert / Peter F. Wolf / Martin George Page / Bernard J.p. Taupin; performed by Starship)

We built this city

We built this city on rock and roll

Built this city

We built this city on rock and roll

Say you don't know me or recognize my face

Say you don't care who goes to that kind of place

Knee deep in the hoopla, sinking in your fight

Too many runaways eating up the night

Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, don't you remember?

We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

Someone's always playing corporation games

Who cares, they're always changing corporation names

We just want to dance here, someone stole the stage

They call us irresponsible, write us off the page

Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, don't you remember?

We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

It's just another Sunday in a tired old street

Police have got the choke hold, oh, then we just lost the beat

Who counts the money underneath the bar?

Who rides the wrecking ball into our guitars?

Don't tell us you need us 'cause we're the ship of fools

Looking for America, coming through your schools

Don't you remember? (Remember)

Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, don't you remember?

We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

We built, we built this city, yeah (Built this city)

We built, we built this city

We built, we built this city yeah (Built this city)

We built, we built this city

We built, we built this city yeah (Built this city)

We built, we built this city (Built this city)

I need to start by saying that I was in high school when this song came out and I never liked it (and when I later learned that Starship was the eventual bastard child of the Jefferson Airplane that once gave us the sublime White Rabbit, I was beyond understanding). But the reason for this song will eventually be made clear.

As I keep writing, my brother Ken has terminal cancer, and as one of the reasons I left my job last year was to be available for him in any way he might need my support, when  Ken told me he wanted to take a trip to Newfoundland (the only Canadian province he had yet to visit) and that I was welcome to join him, I told him I'd go with him. His goals were to 1) Get "screeched in", 2) Visit Cape Spear, Signal Hill, Dildo, and The Rooms museum, and 3) Go Whale Watching. And we did them all (to varying degrees of success).

We flew out on a morning flght, and as we arrived in St. John's a couple hours before our Vrbo was available for check in, I suggested we take the turn out to Cape Spear (the most easterly point in North America) to waste some time. When we got to the parking lot, there was a path that split in two directions: right up to the lighthouse, and left to who knows where. Ken picked the  lighthouse path, and it was a strenuous climb for him, with a couple of stops, and as it was quite foggy, the view didn't have much of a payoff.

Ken was so worn out by this point that when we saw another path heading down into the fog, he said he'd wait for me to go down and check it out. I jogged down the stony path and arrived at a battery (long cannons set up defensively for WWI and then a garrison used during WWII)  and found myself at a marker for the most easterly point (where a woman offered to take my picture because she not-so-secretly wanted me to take her photo for her, lol.).

Leaving that marker, I nearly immediately found myself back at the parking lot, jogged back up to where Ken was still waiting, and explained to him that it would be all downhill (and then a gentle rise back to the parking lot) if he wanted to come see that marker stone. At first he said no (and I still have no idea how much energy he actually has; no clue whether to push him), but then he agreed to come check out what I saw (and I'm sure he's glad he did; this was on his wishlist, even if it was fogged in.)

We got a few groceries and then it was time to get into the Vrbo: a quirky little place just a couple blocks uphill from the bars and pubs of George Street. We eventually made our way down there and went into Christian's Pub  (where Ken's research had told him would be the best place to be screeched in) and asked about the ceremony: they put us on the list and told us to be back within an hour because they lock the doors at 7, and we still hadn't eaten any supper. Got fish and chips next door and made it back in time; a table with a lone man and woman invited us to join them and we learned that they were in from Cape Breton, in town for for the East Coast Music Awards, and that she (another Krista) considers herself a guerilla artist because she carries a craft kit of googly eyes on her at all times, looking for posters and statues to deface enhance, and that at this year's awards, there were even posters around featuring her previous work. (Honestly: amazingly friendly and engaging couple who set the tone for an amazing evening.) The ceremony lasts a couple of hours, and we drank the screech (which for some reason I always though was a moonshine, but it's a lovely, warming spiced rum), and we kissed the cod (frozen in this case, but still a little nasty to put your mouth on after others have.)

(That is the other Krista smiling and taking a picture of me, and in the picture I led with up top, that's  our host "Aunt Luce"; bizarrely, yet another Krista.) The next day we drove up to Dildo: Ken wanted a picture with their (apparently) famous city sign, but it has recently been changed out for something wordy (and less tempting to steal, apparently.) We were not disappointed, however, to discover the Nan and Pop Dildo Souvenir Shop ("Something for Everyone!")

Or to realise, after taking a few pictures down by the wharf, that there's a Hollywood-type Dildo sign up on the hillside (and when we later had lunch at the Dildo Brewing Co, which has a Jimmy Kimmel for Mayor of Dildo sign on the wall, I had to ask Ken if he thought Kimmel installed that sign.)

The next day we went to Signal Hill and attempted to get a picture beside the Cabot Tower (erected in 1898 - already old in terms of Canadian sites - to commemorate the 400th anniversary of John Cabot's landing in Newfoundland}, and it was so incredibly windy that Ken was honestly afraid that he'd be knocked down:

And even I had to fight my way, stumbling,  across the clifftop to take this picture of St John's harbour:

We headed back into the city and went to The Rooms (part museum, part art gallery; totally worth seeing as an insight into Newfoundland history and culture), and after a brief break (it is the hockey playoffs!), we went back to Signal Hill (because the wind had died down and it was safe for both me and Ken to walk around the clifftop):

 And because Ken said that he wanted to eat moose while he was in Newfoundland (which he later said was just a joke), I suggested we go to the only place I could find online that was serving it, The Guv'nor Inn and Pub. And, like everywhere else (even the hotdog cart outside of Christian's), they informed us that moose was out of stock at the moment (which Ken didn't seem to mind), but I was able to order a mess of cod tongues (like my Mum made when we were growing up; Ken said the fish and chips he ordered was probably the best he ever had).

Because we were at the most easterly point in North America, I decided to leave the next morning before 5 am for a panoramic sunrise photo (Ken was not interested in joining me, and you need to respect the needs of someone whose sleep schedule is hijacked by cancer):

We went "whale watching" in Bay Bulls later that day (it's not quite the season for whales yet, and while they do guarantee puffin sightings, the puffins aren't nesting yet, so you can only see them at a distance flying away from the approaching boat across the water; which, while interesting to the eye, was not photographable with my phone), but a boat ride in this rugged landscape is a lovely experience no matter what you're looking at (and Obrien's Boat Tours - with folk singers and screeching in - puts on an entertaining show).

In the end, we did everything on Ken's list, and as for this song choice: Signal Hill is the site from which Marconi played his mamba across the waves to Ireland in the world's first Trans-Atlantic radio broadcast (or, er, received a banal radio transmission), and as Newfoundland is known colloquially as "The Rock", something about "we built this city on rock and roll" just seemed to fit the vibe of St. John's. Overall: The people were amazingly friendly (a talkative and colourful stranger on the street offered to pray for Ken once informed of why his voice is so husky) and the landscape is as beautiful and rugged as promised. I believe Ken got out of this trip what he wanted, and I was happy to go with him. Here's hoping he's up for the Mediterranean cruise in September we're all going on together!

Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, don't you remember?

We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

Tunesday : You Ain't Seen Nothin Yet

 

                                                   You Ain't Seen Nothin Yet

                                                      (Bachman, R) Performed by Bachman Turner Overdrive

• I met a devil woman
  She took my heart away
  She said, I've had it comin' to me
  But I wanted it that way
  I think that any love is good lovin'
  So I took what I could get, mmh
  Oooh, oooh she looked at me with big brown eyes
  
  And said,
  You ain't seen nothin' yet
  B-b-b-baby, you just ain't seen n-n-nothin' yet
  Here's something that you never gonna forget
  B-b-b-baby, you just ain't seen n-n-nothin' yet
  
  "Nothin' yet
  You ain't been around
  That's what they told me"
  
  And now I'm feelin' better
  'Cause I found out for sure
  She took me to her doctor
  And he told me of a cure
  He said that any love is good love
  So I took what I could get
  Yes, I took what I could get
  And then she looked at me with them big brown eyes
  
  And said,
  You ain't seen nothin' yet
  B-b-b-baby, you just ain't seen n-n-nothin' yet
  Here's something, here's something your never gonna forget
  baby, you know, you know, you know you just ain't seen nothin' yet
  
  "You need educatin'
  You got to go to school"
  
  Any love is good lovin'
  So I took what I could get
  Yes, I took what I could get
  And then, and then, and then
  She looked at me with them big brown eyes
  
  And said,
  You ain't seen nothin' yet
  Baby, you just ain't seen n-n-nothin' yet
  Here's something, here's something
  Here's something that your never gonna forget, baby
  Baby, baby, baby you ain't seen n-n-nothin' yet
  You ain't been around
  You ain't seen nothin' yet
  That's what she told me
  She said, "I needed educatin', go to school"
  I know I ain't seen nothin' yet
  I know I ain't seen nothin' yet

Continuing on in our year of trying to get out more and do more things, Dave and I went to a concert this past week. As with the Trans-Canadian Highwaymen earlier in the month, it felt good to see Canadian artists perform right now, and this triple bill featured the Headpins (do I ever remember jamming to Don't it Make Ya Feel if it came on City TV's New Music when I was babysitting as a twelve year old on a Friday night), April Wine (we saw them perform before at the Fall Fair, but they deserve this bigger stage; so many hits), and of course the headline act, BTO.  I'm realising now that I was so lame at blogging last year that I didn't even write about the  last concert we saw at the Aud in the fall, so I need to rewind here.

On October 9 of 2024, Dave and I went to see the Doobie Brothers at the Aud. We saw a few concerts last year — I enjoyed The Stampeders more than I thought I would, loved Cyndi Lauper, Ringo Starr & his All-Starr Band was probably my favourite, but I didn't even write about any of that — and although Dave would never think to buy tickets to anything, every time we go to a show, he's just so happy; he says that seeing live music was what he missed most during the Covid lockdowns, so I've been trying to make more of these experiences happen for him. And the Doobie Brothers put on an awesome show: so many great songs, and despite their age, they rocked the house. Here's what I wanted to note: Dave and I were sitting in the eighth row on the floor, and as people started to move to the front of the stage, Dave said, "We gotta go now if we're going," so I said, "Sure!" We went up to the barrier and were singing and dancing and having a great time, until a security guard came up and asked to see our tickets. I pointed to my wristband and said we have floor seats, but he said that only the front row was allowed to stand at the front. Now, all of the front row seats were empty, there was just one row of people standing — no pushing or crowding — and as I was trying to figure out what the problem was, another security guard was asking Dave where our seats were and he pointed to the two empty chairs right behind us and said angrily, "Right. There." So the guards walked away to harass others along the line and Dave and I looked at each other like sorry, not sorry (I know, we're jerks, but we were having fun and not hurting anyone.) Later, during the encore — which I actually did find annoying as the Doobie Brothers were now doing the songs everyone had come for — a bunch of security guards came through again, and one of them said something to me that I didn't quite hear, and when another came by a minute later and said he needed to see my ticket, I pointed at the first one along the line and said an exasperated, "I just showed it to her." And then they left us alone, and within a couple of songs, the concert was over and Dave and I were pleased with our self-serving scumbaggery.

So when tickets went on sale for BTO (with Headpins and April Wine), I bought tickets early and got us front row seats, and we were able to stand at the barrier and dance and sing and have a great time, free from worry that anyone would bounce us. I guess here is where the karma comes in: Even though I bought within a week of tickets going on sale, I paid "surge pricing" of three something a ticket. But I guess most people balked at that price, because the week before the concert, about half of the front row was still unsold and the price went down to $125. And although it was good to have no anxiety about anyone accusing us of not belonging at the front, the security guards never came through to ask for tickets this time (despite a bit of a crowd gathering in the center aisle). I guess we technically didn't need to buy front row, and I guess we overpaid as it was, but in a larger karmic sense, we owed the universe and now I hope we're square.

As for the concert: All three groups put on a fantastic show. Randy Bachman is showing his age — he sits on a stool to play and sing, and when he goes to stand, a roadie stands behind him and pushes forward on his upper back as he removes the stool — but Bachman's voice and guitar playing are as strong as ever. It was a nice added bonus that Tal Bachman tours with BTO and we got to see him perform She's So High.

The question might be asked why I didn't choose Takin Care of Business for this Tunesday, but I've used it before: It was one of the songs my eye surgeon was listlessly singing along to on the radio while I was having a semi-traumatic experience during cataract surgery. I must have made enough of a deal about it, eight years ago, that both of my kids were worried about it triggering me during the concert, but, of course, despite that picture up there, I was dancing and singing and having a great time throughout. Another great evening out with my favourite guy and more experiences to come.

                                                                     You ain't seen nothin' yet
                                                      B-b-b-baby, you just ain't seen n-n-nothin' yet
                                        Here's something, here's something your never gonna forget
                                  baby, you know, you know, you know you just ain't seen nothin' yet

Tunesday : It's All Been Done

 

It's All Been Done

(Written by Steven Page, Performed by Barenaked Ladies)

I met you before the fall of Rome
And I begged you to let me take you home
You were wrong, I was right
You said goodbye, I said goodnight

(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done
(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done
(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done before

I knew you before the west was won
And I heard you say the past was much more fun
You go your way, I go mine
But I'll see you next time

(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done
(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done
(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done before

And if I put my fingers here
And if I say, "I love you, dear"
And if I play the same three chords
Will you just yawn and say
'Ah, I hate it'

(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done
(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done
(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done before

Alone and bored on a thirtieth-century night
Will I see you on The Price Is Right?
Will I cry? Will I smile?
As you run down the aisle?

(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done
(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done
(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done before
(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done
(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done
(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done
(Ooh) It's all been done
(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done
(Ooh-ooh-ooh) It's all been done before

Months ago, Mal told me that the Trans-Canada Highwaymen were coming to a local small venue, and as Steven Page (formerly of Barenaked Ladies, a band we've seen as a family several times over the years) is one of the members of this Canadian supergroup (along with Chris Murphy of Sloan, Craig Northey of Odds, and Moe Berg of The Pursuit of Happiness), I agreed that this would be a great night out for us (with the addition of Dan and Rudy).

As an aside: There was a headsup on the event information that seating would be limited, so we arrived early to stand in line — only to be let inside and discover that "limited" means "nonexistent", save for some benches on the wall off to one side. We were able to secure a standup table, though (of which there were only two or three, so that was a win for our drinks and ability to stake out an unmovable area in the growing crowd), and as hundreds of others pushed and surged around us, it was agreed that arriving early was definitely worth it.

I chose this song because it was the opener, but also to note that every song was familiar and "done before": from Page belting out Brian Wilson to Moe Berg bringing down the house with I'm an Adult Now in the encore (Mal told the table, "I've heard this song exactly two other times in my life: when Mom sang it to Kennedy on her 18th birthday and when she sang it to me on my 18th birthday"), we at least knew the chorus to every song. And I have to say: for a "supergroup" formed of basically famous-in-Canada-indy acts, Trans-Canada Highwaymen are incredibly talented and perform together with what looks like ease and joy; it was a fantastically fun and nostalgic evening and I was so glad to be out, singing and dancing along, with all of my favourite people.

And further to my aside: As we were out walking in the parking lot afterwards, I said to Rudy, "Well, I guess what we learned this evening is that we're too old for general admission seating; that crowd was brutal." And a man of about our age upon overhearing me said, "Nah, you just have to know how to handle them," and then he did a front kick in demonstration. I laughed and nodded and added, "Chairs would have been nice." And despite the recent bravado, he quietly said, "Yeah, chairs would have been nice."

Great music, great company; the year of interesting experiences is proceeding nicely.