Minneapolis. Just flew in from Houston and boy are my arms colder. Had a run on the river. Not actually on the river. I save those acts for when I want to impress my children. I was alone. The loaves and fishes trick goes over well at birthday parties.
I forgot to mention the car alarm bird in Dallas. I was running there and whilst shooting under a grove of trees I was blessed with the call of a bird I hadn't heard since the last time I was down in Texas. It sounds exactly like the the rising sine wave of a car alarm. Imagine how that species has been decimated by having its soul stolen & neutered by modern security measures. The male population killed in violent mating rituals with giant steel contraptions. Each bird learning to ignore the call of the others because they assume its just a false alarm or some vibration that has set off another of the shiny metal beasts below. People have stopped looking up and being impressed with their elaborate and exotic calls. Cats have even stopped hunting them and prefer to curl up on top of them and go to sleep for extra warmth during the cool nights. Poor car alarm birds.
Monogamy. Either an eastern art of paper folding or some other kind of art. This is an art in which I feel I have some expertise. The subject has come up many times after lengthy bouts of road work so I feel I should speak in a public forum. The question is always posed to me because I have been with the same person for a greater length of time than most in the “entertainment industry” and certainly longer than most people my age. Is it “natural” for men to be monogamous? Firstly this might be a backhanded compliment. The sting of the backhand comes if it is implied that I am somehow forcing myself to do something unnatural. The compliment comes from that fact that I have the moral fiber to be successful in this arena. Gay friends say that men might not be able to sustain an exclusive relationship. Do successfully monogamous straight couples achieve this state purely through the secret powers of the woman?
Do men live in some sort of physical and emotional denial in order to make this work? Of course they do...but it shouldn’t be looked at as unhealthy denial. The men who say they “don’t even notice other women” are lying. Nobody from either sex can turn off that motor completely. When blinded by the first waves of romantic love for your chosen mate it is true that others of the species do not matter. When you’re not actually swimming in those waves then you “notice” others. The great thing about being an evolved human is that what you do when you “notice” others is under your control. It really is. What philosophy of life you do you choose? Here I make no value judgment save for categories 2 & 3.
1) “I’m only going to live once and I’m not sure this is the “perfect” situation for me and I better act and figure out the ethics later 2) “for religious reasons I’m going to be with this person even when it is unhealthy for me to do so” 3) “lets stay together for the kids and screw around” 4) “I’ll never find anyone who understands me the way this person does and my research has found that others just will not do the trick in the end”.
For those in category 4 it is obvious that it would be best to stay faithful to their mate. It just gets better and better once you’re “over the hump”. You can see tangible results everyday and commitment makes you able to enjoy life to the fullest. For those in the category 4 there are a few options to counteract the “noticing” when you are away from home & hearth. Without becoming Dr. Ruth I think I’ll leave them up to your imagination. This space is left for your imagination:
So, once again, the compliment receives another vicious backhanded spin. The reasons for me being able to stay faithful have been left to your imagination and I don’t necessarily trust you all completely. I trust my wife though.
Daily notes: The Houston show was special in that I got to briefly meet Barb Carr -- Kids in the Hall internet goddess. I had old friends there and I was excited to see them (Joe & Trish Hardy) so I didn’t really spend quality time with Barb. I know I’ll get other chances. I think the troupe was split on how the show went. What’s interesting for me now is how history and location change the meaning of some of the sketches. Seuss Bible, Buddy’s monolog, and Sales Guys all have material that relates to problems in the middle east and the war on terror. Each audience takes the references differently. In “Joymakers” Bruce & Dave hang up on someone who is speaking Spanish. In the north and in Canada the Spanish reference is a non-sequiter. Down here it takes on meaning. I’m not sure if its negative...or what that meaning is but people tend to gasp or laugh. The Kids would never change the show to suit the local crowd so it plays like real rock n’ roll when these sections come up. They are the punk band of comedy.
Austin was an outdoor show. The Backyard. Beautiful but the wind wreaked havoc on the poor crew who had to struggle all day with our three big video screens. At one point in “Citizen Kane” the curtains that cloak the side of the stage came down behind me with there metal frames and all. I looked up to see if the lighting truss was swinging and see if anyone was underneath it. Shades of Curtis Mayfield. We bumped into Mr.Lifto from the Jim Rose Circus after the show. I tried to keep the mental picture of his act out of my mind as we chatted. Very nice man with a very strong dink.
Texas. After hours club. Hangover haiku. When you play a place called the Bronco Bowl things are bound to happen. Somewhere on the digital camera is a picture of the Grassy Knoll and the Texas Book Depository. Somewhere on the digital camera is a picture of...holy sh%&$#@...I gotta go.
Dallas is wet. Rain. Remembering the last Texas thunderstorm I was in. I only like rain when I'm in a place where it is unexpected. People are so happy to see it. The collective mood turns up rather than down. Vancouver sunshine is so dazzling because it is in contrast to the seven months of dark gray downfall. Tourism BC has dones such an effective job of the denial campaign.
Kansas City there I go. Raucous crowd in a beer hall environment. Mixed it up and played "Always Breaking Heart" for my 2nd song. Red Wings take another game from the Canucks. Maybe any kind of splitting of allegiance has effected my team. Wings are a sentimental favourite but my blood is Canuck blood. For the "greatest goalies in the game" Hasek & Roy are such on-ice dweebs. I was happy to see LA win in OT because I enjoy Roy's futile little tantrums. Hasek is amazing but his acting ranks somewhere up there with the best puppet shows I've seen. "You hitted me on the leg and it made my head fall off!!!"
How much does anybody really want to know about me? All lives are ordinary on some level. I can look at mine in ways that turn it instantly pathetic or I can choose to drink from the “half full” glass. I can run a line down the middle of the page for the pros & cons and come up with different results. A daisy with an endless number of petals. She loves me she loves me not. Perhaps I should just drop the flower and say “who knows what she’s thinking”. At this juncture I choose to define my life. Everyday I should make that decision. Nobody else should be allowed. In all other parameters I have no control. I can say something that is intended to have a certain effect and is taken in a completely different manner than I expect. I don’t choose what I communicate...the listener does. I’ve been “told” what my songs mean by lots of people. This is fascinating because it is the truth. I was mistaken to think that their meaning had anything to do with my intentions. They have no meaning until someone hears them and then they become part of lives that people are defining for themselves. If I am trying to define my own life then I should accept the fact that the things that I do can be bent and folded to fit into another person’s definition of themselves. For the right person all my songs are about oral sex. For another they are about the writer’s struggles to find happiness while living with the knowledge that he is only 4 feet tall. If this works to make the listener feel right then I have succeeded. If I made somebody light my CD on fire out of a distinct loathing then I have helped define them. I have contributed to their own sense of identity. The year-end “most hated” list they submit to the school newspaper becomes part of their own image making operation. I guess in this way I can define myself both as subversive and philanthropist. Sounds romantic. Truly my realm of influence is quite limited. Creed, however, will unintentionally help millions of people who are trying to be cool.
Here is a great example of my life and its connections having unintended effects on the lives of others. In this case I was in the middle of natural phenomena that will be misinterpreted. I looked down on Kanas City at night as we entered the circuit to land. The air was perfectly clear. My eye caught an eerie light traveling along the ground in what looked like the 40 foot diameter of a police helicopter beam. It was intermittent as it raked across trees, parking lots, homes & storefronts. I’d never seen anything with this type of blue white glow and it seemed to be following the exact same path as our plane only slightly behind and off to the side. It couldn’t be a police chopper light. I then caught the moon in my peripheral vision way up above the plane and did the math. The moon was reflecting off the shiny aluminum airliner and the angle happened to line up and send the beam straight down. At one point the reflection hit the pond of a golf course and I could see the craters and patterns of the moon for certain. I think there will be a few confirmed UFO sightings in Kansas City tonight. “Honestly ma’am...I was bathed in an intense blue light all around me in a perfect circle...I was blinded and then as quick as it was there...it was gone”. Unless I find these neighbourhoods tomorrow and distribute a leaflet explaining this phenomenon I am sure someone’s future will be influenced. Our nights are not ordinary. At this juncture I choose to define my life because that is the only option.
When you fall asleep on the plane your mouth is always open. Dry air. Bobblehead doll. Gotta pee but the drink cart is in the way.
Grand Canyon from the air. That’s what I just saw. Big ol’ jet airliner carrying me home to see my kin. So long St. Louis and thanks for the hard rocking good times. We did a two show night at the Pageant Theater. The venue was licensed so the heckling and retorting was off the scale. The troupe was punchy by show#2 and that is my favourite variety of KITHall show...both as an audience member and a performer. I switched my song in the back half of the show without telling the boys or the crew. Heh...if they can screw around 100 times then maybe I should be allowed to do it once? On a whim I sang “Someone Who’s Cool” (Odds song). I know they all liked that. The Odds never made it to St.Louis for some reason so this couldn’t have been a bad idea. I forgot to figure out an ending because it was on impulse. I have to edit down my songs in the show so, in this case, I just stopped halfway. Last night’s award winning quip went to Mark. During “Chicken Lady” there was a guy just trying to agitate by singing the opening riff to “Smoke on the Water” over and over. Dave (as Max the gentleman caller) asked the Chicken Lady (Mark) if she lived next door to Deep Purple. Mark’s reply was:
“No that’s just one of the Siamese Twins from the freak show. He does that when he has diarrhea. They share one asshole you know. Sometimes one asshole is enough for two people. Sometimes one asshole is enough for a whole group of people”. It was a three part quip with a laugh at each level.
Very excited to see my family today. Breaking the rhythm of the road has its pluses & minuses. The three hours of sleep have enhanced the feeling that I am heading into a different plane of reality. Floating gently out of the road cocoon to be dropped onto the glorious trampoline that is my household. I can’t wait. Its a pretty egocentric life when you are touring. I liken it to suspended animation. You begin to separate your reality from the networks and ties that predominate in your home life. Eventually you do this with the other people you are touring with. Your routines and obligations are simplified until they fall away. They become things that just happen to you. You think mostly about what you need at any given moment to make the situation right. You begin to forget that this is an indulgence. If you don’t pay close attention to these trends you can develop the “thousand yard stare”. This happens when the suspended animation of road head combines with constant personal reassessment. You have then taken the final step into constantly reviewing your life and your life goals and the cocoon truly forms around you. Coming home can have the effect of repeated slaps to the face decreasing in frequency. It is consistently pointed out to you by the reactions of others that you are stumbling through the routines you had left behind -- constantly tripping up and breaking the flow. Your exotic tales of travel and conquest will have to wait because there are dishes to do, bills to pay and emotional reconnections to nurture in the few moments left at the end of a day. The worlds collide first and then hopefully the pieces merge into a better planet. It takes awhile but you eventually reintegrate yourself in time to leave again. I will spend the rest of this flight meditating on my significance (or insignificance) in relation to the grand scheme of things. It suppose it would have been better if I had just seen the Grand Canyon from the bottom rather than from the air. Bliss. I’m just a boy who’s intentions are good...
A sunny drive through country and community. There is a clarity to the light. Perfect shadows. Primary colours are glowing. Out the bus window is a baseball game. Little League. The pure purple team against the pure orange team playing on a vivid green and beige background. Each boy is a uniform height. In the few seconds I have to see the picture there is a pitch and a hit. The bright white ball arcs like it has a tracer beam behind it and the orange and purple move into action. Such poetry. The school colours of the home team must be purple because the light standards on the roads near the school are the same pure violet. My eye trails them down the street and away from the diamond.
Sometimes these moments of clarity almost scare you. You want the same clarity in every moment. You want the best parts of this culture we’ve created. These scenes fade into tract housing, strip malls, and power line towers. Square shapes that don’t make sense against a world based on curves. Why has our economy dictated that we build such shit? Is there any reason why things built within the parameters of a budget should, therefore, be ugly? My city has been destroyed by disposable stucco expanses meant to convey a sense of California calm. The excuse is, “that is what people want”. Why do we “want” to impose a culture that is inappropriate to our environment? Doesn’t this make people feel like they’re always trying to be somewhere else but never quite getting there...always inadequate and shabby? The pattern repeats and repeats again without any options. I think that our declining emphasis on beauty in architecture and town planning will ensure that Prozzak becomes a staple at every meal. Potatoes, coffee and Gleemonex. Can we take our cues from nature and build things that look more like they grew out of the land? Sure. Its easy. Instead our arrogance makes us believe we have better ideas than the simple ones. People would lose their jobs if we changed anything. Apple made a computer that looks like a flower and watch how uncomfortable it will make some people. There are some who don’t believe that beautiful things can be functional. Humans can’t do that?
note: Milwaukee’s crowd did the town proud. First time for the Kids in this limestone city. The people had been waiting. One of the best shows in the loosey goosey department. I felt relaxed and was able to really enjoy each element. The Cathy's “Is He?” sketch was the best ever and “Joymakers” (encore) nearly took the lid off the Riverside theatre. Never been to St. Louis before and I’ve just woken up here. I always like that feeling.
Caveman inside. Last night good. Bruce hit head on table in "Joymakers" sketch. Bad but OK. Scott get black eye from fall on chair in dark in hotel room. He not cry. Scott OK now too. Dave have sore neck from man jump on back in sketch too. He OK now. Kevin not hurt. Me not hurt. Mark is good at taking punch so he really just fine. Me and Kevin must work harder to get hurt. Me run by water and through street to get ready for hunt...I mean show. Chicago make good noise for us. In darkness we go to House Of Blues to watch soul music and jump up and down. Scott is good jumper. He even crawl on floor to the music beat. Me love Chicago. Blackhawk win yesterday...everybody happy. Cub lose for years...everybody still happy. Terrible traffic jam...everybody still not kill each other.
The slowest song circle. The last time I was in New York was to play on a song I had written for Rosanne Cash. The opportunity to write the song came out of the blue and seemed to mark the beginning of a something. It was the first time I’d sat down and put a very real part of myself into a song for someone else. I discovered the most direct connection could be made with that person through the song. Making art is an attempt to have another person feel what you are feeling -- to articulate things in new ways. The song is already successful in that Rosanne took the song on in a way that showed she understood it even better than I did. We listened to the almost finished product today at a lower west side studio. I was blown away by how the song really was Rosanne’s. I felt like I didn’t even write it. She is that kind of singer. The most notable yet unspoken compliment I could ever receive comes from the fact that she’s one of the great songwriters and doesn’t need my help in the least. When I played it individually for Scott, Dave & Bruce they all said the same three things. “It’s beautiful”, “she’s incredible” and “it really sounds like her song”. Who knows why it worked but I hope this keeps happening to me. I’m so glad it was Rosanne and John who brought me into this new arena. Mentorship is involuntary. They’ve really set the bar at a healthy height for everything I’ve done since. John Leventhal (guitar god/producer/writer and Rosanne’s husband) & Rosanne deserve some sort of award for making sure I got to experience all the best parts of the process. They didn’t have to involve me in the recording and they didn’t have to take me on as a friend. In a lot of ways this yet to be released gem is already one of my biggest hits.
We listened to the song at the studio where John is recording Joan Osbourne’s new record. Joan was very kind to allow us to walk in and hang. Sometimes you feel like you’re breaking somebody’s vibe when you go into those situations. The day was bookended by just hanging with Rosanne and catching up. It seemed like someone had planned this day off for me. How did the Kids in the Hall know how to start and complete this cycle for me? It doesn’t seem so weird that the song has taken this long to be done. The natural metaphors really apply. When I came here first the song was a green bud and when I came back to check it was the tree I imagined.
The title of the tune was originally taken from something Scott (Thompson) had said in his very first solo show in Austin Texas three years ago (the Odds just happened to be in the same town). It was serendipitous to be back in New York for the first time partly courtesy of Scott and get to hand deliver the song to him. The slowest song circle.
sidebar:
Mid-life banana hammock. There’s a sure thing to every hot day in Central Park. You will see a 40 plus guy wearing only a banana hammock while sunbathing. Its a free country but this seems il advised. Sunbathing is bad for you. Looking ridiculous can be fun but when you think you are oozing sexuality it can be worse than ridiculous. Nothing like a paunch hanging over a luminescent teal green thong to get me going. Central Park has skipped through spring to summer. Its glorious smells of cherry blossoms, horse shit and exhaust are heightened by the premature heat. I’ve had a couple of nice runs around the perimeter over the last few days. If you go after 5pm its like being in a fun run. Half the world is running. Fending off the mid life crisis that will bring on the the thong.
Well ...that’s enough names, times, and places. I think this journal is getting too newsy so I’m going to have to find that place under the surface again. Now that New York is behind the bus, and Cleveland looms on the horizon, I can let the muse flow to a new pool. New York seems to demand a lot of psychic space and despite my attempts to articulate how I felt about it I know it speaks for itself quite loudly. Impressionism seems my best bet.
Drawn to something you know will hurt. Today I visited “ground zero” with friends. I walked alone a lot yesterday and got close...couldn’t close the deal on my own. What is there to say that is new? I don’t know how to type out a few minutes of silence but if I could I would. How do I describe the effect of such a big empty space? It's not just a physical space. The human brain is not built to comprehend things of such magnitude. I guess it is meant to struggle. When I first stood on the edge of the Grand Canyon I felt the same. It was so vast and strange that my brain could not make it big enough. You know that you’re staring across a 50 mile gap to the other side but you bring it all in closer to compensate for the fact that you can’t take it all in. I kept looking up into the space where the towers had been in the same way I’d done when they were still standing. One of the first things any New York visitor does is stand at the base of the towers and look up in awe (you would then go to the top and look down in awe). You would feel dizzy as the clouds passed behind them against the blue sky. I looked up at the same space and felt dizzy for different reasons. We all watched so many images of that day but the physical reality of 3 dimensions completed the sad human experience. When you meet someone who you’ve only ever seen on television or in pictures you always say to yourself things like, “I didn’t realize he was so tall”, or “his head is way bigger in real life”. Sometimes it can be unsettling but it humanizes gods and turns fiction into nonfiction. Today was like that on a grand scale. I chose to read one story written on a laminated piece of paper, pinned up with all the banners, flags, hats, flowers etc on the fence surrounding St. Paul's chapel (where the firemen went to rest). That was enough. That was the clincher. A very young person’s note to her lost dad. Too heavy. Way too heavy.
Since I got here I was wondering if it was just me or if New York seemed quieter. It wasn’t just me. People aren’t yelling and honking as much. As I walked away I prayed for someone to start a good old fashioned argument with someone else and get all worked up. I wished for two cabs to kiss bumpers and the drivers to leap out in full flail. My friends and I were universally amazed by how life around the financial district was seemingly “back to normal”. People with their eyes front walked to get bagels at lunchtime in the spring sunshine. When I was 18 I visited Hiroshima. Where there was once nothing 37 years before, there was now a bustling, sunny city like all others in Japan. I walked out of the museum dedicated to the atomic bombing back into that reality. The “museum is now closing” music was a childlike xylophone piece playing over some tiny speakers. I remember feeling like I had as much made contact with the power of the human spirit as I had with history. We must appear like ants who have had their nest flooded with a garden hose only to pop up in the same place a few days later. I guess it just depends how high up in the sky you’re looking from.
Oh yeah. A small note. We had a tremendous show at the Beacon last night and it should repeat itself this evening. I’m trying to relish my first song as I sing for the full house with all the lights up. Trying to take it all in and slow time down a bit. I can see all the faces and can scope out these legendary halls from a pretty unique vantage point . Its an A.Huxley moment for me each night. “Be here now” said the parrot.
New York City. These three words can be so heavy now. The Philly show was fantastic. TheTower Theatre is legendary and the crowd is loud and ready to go from word one. Great to see Kevin Gandel and his buddy Dave after the show. They spent so much time on the first Odds fansite I feel I still owe them a lot. The change in running order and the efficiency of the crew really is turning the show into a well oiled machine that can still careen of the road in appropriately beautiful ways. Its humid now and things finally feel sweaty. This is an important component in a rock show so finally now there can be a crossover effect that integrates me into the sweaty comedy show. We listened to music on the drive to NYC and pulled through the tunnel and onto the north end of 6th Ave to the Black Crowes “Shake Your MoneyMaker” album. I think its an objective reality that that album ROCKS!! Whatever anyone says about the Crowes...if you crank up any rock that involves a cowbell and an open tuned telecaster...its a good way to pull into New York on a late night tour bus. My room faces north from the 35th floor of the ______Hotel. Dave Foley, “his significant other” & I went out for a pint at an Irish pub near Carnegie Hall. They were loading a show out the back. It was late and we peaked into the Russian Tea Room before wandered farther in search of a beer. So red & so gold.
Tonight things smell nice and there is a rock video “after the rain” gloss to the streets. For those of you who, like me, haven’t been here since last September’s events....New York is much bigger and more resilient than you imagine. Nothing is different until you go “down there”. I’m so relieved to feel how much of a solid cultural base is here. It still feels like it could lean into the arm wrestle for “centre of the world” and win in a heartbeat. There are so many people here to exert their personalities and live interesting lives that is seems like noone could ever extinguish the inner flame of this place. How could I have doubted that?
My doorbell just rang. Yes...its a “nice” hotel. I have a doorbell. It was someone from security to come to tell me that I didn’t lock my door properly. No lie. Are they on it or what? I’m on the 35th floor of this huge complex and somehow they knew I wasn’t safe and came to tell me at 3:13am that I hadn’t closed my door properly. This hotel room is a work of art. All the lights are designed to land on each object in such a dramatic way. Why is it that new York decides to build up a false sense of reality then smash it in front of you? It is truly the zen city. If you see the buddha on the road then punch him in the face. If you see me on the road just point me to the Buddhist vegetarian restaurant.
Go jump in a lake. Burlington Vermont was such a pretty little place on the shore of Lake Champlain. Lots of hackey sack jokes. College town. Bruce & I had a run to shake the cobwebs and I accelerated the process by jumping in the lake. That pretty much tore the cobwebs off and peeled me a new skin altogether. Changed the show to finish with “Running Faggot” and the new conceptual “Citizen Kane”. “Joymakers” was the encore. Scott decided to go insane on the balloons that are props in the sketch and, in the process, I watched him kick a monitor (speaker) off the front of the stage. I imagined the lawsuits grinding the tour to a halt but luckily the thing never landed on anyone. I found out my good friends had a baby girl just as I got offstage so, on the whole, I will remember Burlington fondly. 6:34am and we’re in our hotel in Philly. Watched “Rushmore” last night. Loved it. Go Canucks.
Mush. Had some terrible family news last night after the show in Wallingford CT. Whenever something like this happens your brain tries to instantly realign itself. This electrical process triggers all kinds of strange words to come out of your mouth and salt water pours from your eyes. I was fortunate to be among such a strong group of comrades. In all the excitement of the tour had not reflected on the fact that after this whirlwind winds down our friendships will be there. That’s the underlying constant. If there are arguments, hiccups or distractions...that’s all they are. Mush...but the truth. These guys are so good at snapping into action and supporting anyone in their camp when the chips are down.
Had a bit of time in Hartford. I’d always driven through on #84...the turnpike ...but never stayed. Bruce & I had a sunny run through its parks, government buildings and sketchy outlands. I made the connection now that I’ve slept, bought a book, had a family crisis, eaten, and run there. I will remember.
Did you know we have Star Trek doors on the bus? You know those doors that make that sound and slide open and closed? Yes. They really do exist. You push the little LED “open & close” button and ...whoosh. They’re hydraulic and they seal out the noise coming from the front & back lounges. That noise they make in the TV show is pretty close to the noise that the hydraulic cylinders make when they move the doors. Unfortunately my head is close to the door when I’m sleeping so the novelty is starting to wear thin. Still...I’m fascinated by technology imitating television. I want a shoe phone.
Bruce: Whomever said ‘talk is cheap’ never saw the price of houses in the downtown Hartford area - you can get a duplex and a pair of tube socks for six dollars. Sweet show and fans, the youth of Wallingford, smiling braces, have driven to see us - I’m on a bus full of hangovers. Soon the laughter will turn to the need for the golden arches -- which come every three hundred yards and are the thing that REALLY holds together this great land.
Craig again: Mark & Scott are watching Polanski’s “Fearless Vampire Killers” as I type. Its crazy. The laws of hibernation are being described by the professor. “How is it possible to avoid an obstacle while flying and being simultaneously asleep?”. Its a stretch but the movie’s logical plane is crossing over into the realities of road head. Can 1968, avant garde, comedic science make sense to me? I must avoid obstacles while simultaneously asleep. Zen and the art of self preservation.
The scream of horses, the slam of a cutlery drawer, the low hum of a generator, a quarter sized circle of drool on the pillow.
notes to the readership: Don’t forget to e-mail me after the shows to let me know what you thought. Introduce yourselves. I’m on my own with this CD so I need to meet you people in the ether of the net. If you look behind the guys in the Kids in the Hall signing autographs outside the bus you will see me lurking. Its going to take one of you calling out my name for me to come over and talk. I feel a fool trying to wade through their notoriety to enforce my own but I do truly want to meet you folks.
Group dynamics catharsis vortex. I was in the group dynamics catharsis vortex. In a good way. The vortex allows you to laugh at the way you’re laughing at yourself while others around the world laugh at you. Don’t you get it? I’m now in my bunk on the bus as we head from Washington DC to Wallingford CT. We all sat in the front lounge and watched the DVD of the last tour with its optional audio commentary by the troupe and special guests like Andy Richter, Trey Parker & Matt Stone, Mike Myers etc. For a good hour and a half I watched the Kids in the Hall watch a documentary about the Kids in the Hall while they took the piss out of themselves on a voiceover track. We were laughing at their commentary about a movie about their triumphs and troubles and they were making new jokes about their overdubbed wisecracks which were aimed at their original jokes or problems. How many layers of meaning were in there? That’s laughing at yourself laughing at yourself while others laugh at you too. In all the tough parts where the troupe really shows their inner tensions...they made fun of each other more intensely on the audio commentary track and laughed harder at themselves. I guess it stands to be pretty expensive therapy if you’re going to have to go on tour, film and edit a full documentary, release it, make a DVD, get together to make a bonus “commentary” track fro the DVD, go on another tour and then laugh at your previous troubles in order to get through any new troubles. How did they know it would work? At times my head was spinning because I couldn’t believe that people could say what they were saying about each other and have it still only result in laughter. What doesn’t pull a stomach muscle makes you stronger.
I think the DC crowd had fun tonight. The Daughters of the American Revolution Constitution Hall is about as American sounding a place as I can imagine. Its right beside the White House. What with all the goings on I can’t believe they let so many Canadians get so close. I know we’re all in this “new war” together but how soon the Secret Service forgets that we burned down their White House in 1812. I guess the dossiers don’t go back that far. There are always bigger problems than “that ol’ Canadian Problem”. In the interest of diplomacy and ease of travel at airports I point out that these last few sentences are a “JOKE”. I think it may even be illegal to make a joke about this stuff so I tread lightly and hope that the internet is, at the very least, still a safe haven for borderline behaviour. When you write something you never know how its going to read. If you are a border guard or INS agent and you didn’t find my comments whimsical or funny then please read it again and imagine my patented sleepy smirk (see photos on home page) and understand that, “some of my best friends are American.”
I had time to squeeze in a run around the monuments and took a walk through Georgetown with Bruce (McCulloch) before soundcheck. This “theatre” routine seems much more dedicated to preshow togetherness than the rock experience can be. We’re all at the venue before dinner and stay til the show. That doesn’t happen as often in rock. I like feeling like everyone is there and prepared as a unit instead of some straggling in 3 minutes before stage time and others hanging out and obsessing over whether those absent will be late. This is much better. The costume preparation forces this issue. Note to self: invent elaborate costumes for the next band gigs in order to force togetherness. I’m thinking cloaks, mime makeup and stilts might add weight to the music. At least it would seem slightly continental.
Some catching up to do. Hamilton. Strange 70’s, government money, opera house vibe. Architect’s guinea pig project. In those big theatres I keep feeling sorry for anyone who has a seat in the middle of the floor and need to take a piss. There are no aisles. You have to push past at least 30 people on either side to get out. Fun crowd helped the performance. The boys were playing once again. Drove to Detroit that night and checked in at about 4:00 am to the Atheneum Suites Hotel. Once again...in a worse way...and architectural marvel. This building actually makes you feel uncomfortable.
Dave Foley & I visited the Wings dressing room and I rode the zamboni around the Joe Lewis ice thanks to Greg Brady of WDFN and his call to Jenn Hagler at the Red Wings office. Thanks Jenn & Greg. Stevie Y and Brendan Shanahan are going to have a “three bears experience” when they get in tonight. “Who’s been sitting on the stool in front of my stall?”, said the world’s best hockey players. “Who’s been testing the flex of my sticks? Yeah, ...and someone’s been sitting on the player’s bench!”. The iceman and building manager (Al) has been with the team for 31 seasons. He drove the zamboni at the Olympia as well. It was fun picking his brain. He’s the guy who comes out and grabs the octopi after they hit the ice (and swings them in the air to get the crowd going). I felt a little conspicuous strapped to the jump seat of the zamboni with Dave out at the blueline taking pictures but that’s the price you pay for never growing up. Bruce (McCulloch) just smiles and laughs at me and repeats the mantra, “you’re pathetic”.
Detroit is full of mojo enriching field trips. Couldn’t squeeze in another visit to the Motown Museum. Last time I was in Detroit I visited the museum with my Colin James Band compadres. It was my birthday and it was glorious. I lay on the floor in the same spot James Jamerson lay when he played the bass line for “What’s Goin’ On”. I touched the console, guitar, and bass rig that recorded so many of my desert island songs. Detroit definitely does a hoodoo thing to my life. Years ago the Odds held a promotional show right on the studio floor of United Sound Systems (Parliament Funkadelic, Prince, Aretha, on and on). Nothing had changed much in there since the 70’s. That night we drove over to Hittsville USA and stood on the lawn of the Motown HQ and just took it all in. I’ve always found an activity in that town that would add to my collective mojo.
The Greek independence day parade through Greektown was pretty interesting. There were those traditional costumes with the men in the white skirts, vests, white leggings and pompom shoes. Not knowing Greek history too well I wondered if that outfit ever had a utilitarian use. The kilt had an obvious function -- loosen the genital area for faster and more fertile procreation of the Scottish people. In the case of this Greek skirt I am confused. The tights would not allow freedom of movement in such a situation and the fabric looks like it stains easily. Tartan hides the blood of battle and the ...oh never mind.
The show at the State was loose and fun but I had a few technical glitches that tested my professional abilities. These were mistakes you couldn’t predict andt, in the end, I worked through and had some good moments.
Woke up in Boston. Scott (Thompson), Jim (Millan the director) and I walked over the River Charles from Cambridge to the city centre and had something to eat in the market then walked a bit of the “freedom trail” to the Boston Common. I just broke off and walked back and they’re off enjoying more city stuff.
Defined by the worst possible example. What if all singers were judged based on a character study of Mike Love? All husbands held up as Ike Turners. What if we were only as good as our worst moments? Firstly we would never see the mass of beauty spanning down into the depths below the little boat of evil. In Mike & Ike’s case there were a lot of boats. Repeat karmic offenders. I choose musical examples because then I stick to criticizing my own. That, as we all know, is a popular sport with musicians. How do you enjoy someone’s art when you find out they beat their spouse during the period they made their best work? I once went with good friends to see Kurt Vonnegut speak in Toronto. Big fan. Afterward I asked another friend why she didn’t go and she explained that ever since she found out he left his wife and many children for his administrative assistant it had changed how she saw his work. Any Picasso biography reveals his penchant for firing off guns while walking alone in the darkened streets of Paris...oops...that’s the part that makes him cool to some...I mean...abusing women both mentally & physically. I don’t think I ever recover from these discoveries. For what its worth I usually have to write the person off because I can't erase the new mental pictures. Sometimes it makes me realize how different my life is from people who’s work I admire. Other times I’m just depressed that muckraking has once again narrowed the sphincter that greatness must pass through. You cannot create mentors if you’re going to want to know “all” about the person who inspires you. Great art that comes from lives of misery can create gorgeous martyrs but what does art mean when it comes from people who do bad things? Is it just macabre rubbernecking at the scene of the crime? Forgiveness may be the only way to achieve anything in the modern world. I think that extends way beyond art and music. Not big on the topic but ....I’m sure there is someone else out there who agrees that its hard to see the beauty in the wonderful parables of several organized religions right now what with all the crimes being committed. I don’t think we need to hire a private detective to find the flaws in these governing bodies. Right now...defined by their worst possible examples.
The Mirror ball. Its a perfect metaphor for what was good about the rock n’ roll past. Just like it is much more romantic to think about communicating via regular mail than it is to do it by e-mail, the mirror ball is a much more romantic effect than any computer coordinated big screen video system. Tonight Dave Foley, some other famous Canadian comics, the fabulous Chrissy of Los Angeles, Gordon from Kingston, and myself went to see the most unheralded talent ever to emerge from these parts. Bob Kemmis at the Rivoli. I know I work on his records but it was apparent tonight, to all in attendance, that he is a national treasure. I can’t believe how good he is. Buy his records before this crime is allowed to continue. We gave him two standing ovations because we couldn’t stand the idea that he would ever stop.
After he was done I couldn’t help but notice the guy climbing up on the ladder to unplug the mirror ball. That fact that there wasn’t even a wall switch to stop it spinning was even more amazing. He had to get up on a ladder and unplug it from the ceiling when the music was over. That is such a cool way to punctuate the magic created by a great musical event. The mirror ball itself is such a gorgeous and completely analog device. A ball covered by hand-glued, tiny squares of mirrored glass rotating on a pole and driven by an electric motor. Shine a light on it and bring on the magic. Its so simple yet so beautiful. It takes work to bring on the pure beauty.
Let me repeat...bobkemmis.com, bobkemmis.com
Here's a review of the London show by frequent Craig communicator Helen Ryken. These are the type of biased opinions that help keep my ego afloat. Words like genius are very nice. Thought you might like it because it wasn't written by a theatre critic. Thanks Helen.
"Kids in the Hall"
Tour Of Duty 2002
March 30, 2002
Centennial Hall,
London, Ontario
Centennial Hall is not the most attractive venue. But what went on inside
tonight was what really mattered. Was I thrilled upon entering? Yes. This
is it. Here I am and already sidetracked. Swag Stuff..Gobbled up lots of
goodies. They are selling CDs, Craig Northey's "Giddy Up", Bruce
McCulloch's "Drunk Baby Project", Dog Tags, Videos, DVDs, T-Shirts, Buttons
and Programs. People bring lots of money with you. I find my seat and it's
actually better than I expected. All the people around me are nice and
happy. We are already laughing cause they are showing these funny video
clips on three big screens. Plus they are playing fun music. A great way
to set the mood. "These Kids are Smart". The tardy folks are all entering
last minute...second...People please get to these shows early. The majority
of us do not like having our views blocked. Especially when we are watching
a first class comedy show. Thankyou. I was really thinking about not only
crushing some heads but bodies too. Once again another KITH legacy becomes
a thought in my everyday life. (Thanks Mark).
Craig Northey opens up with "Take A Hit Off This" with his beautiful voice
but his vocals should be louder. Sound people please fix this. I'm so glad
the Kids asked him to join the tour. Not only is he musically talented but
very funny. "These Kids are are Smart". The Kids in the Hall troupe is so
amusing thoughout the show. They did new and old sketches and as always
shock stuff. The politics and religion and lego. One of the best parts
about live shows is sometimes you get improvising included. If the actors
know what they are doing and these guys and gals do. There were also a few
heckles here and there and the Kids worked it in. It was great how Craig
Northey was incorporated into certain scenes. It was fun. There is really
a brotherhood amongst the Kids and it shows. You can even see and hear how
they love Craig. I was lucky enough to meet all the Kids, and Craig and
even their famous lawyer(who watches everything and every move made). He's
an all right guy. The Best Part. Everyone was themselves. Real.
"Kids in the Hall"
Tour Of Duty 2002
April 1, 2002
Pantages Theatre (Canon)
Toronto, Ontario
I'm starting about venues again. I wish they didn't change the name.
I hadn't been to the magnificent Pantages Theatre since Phantom of the
Opera. Although I enjoyed the Phantom. The "Kids in the Hall" are here now
with Tour Of Duty 2002. This is more my cup of tea. I love to laugh. They
made it happen. Great memories for any old and new fan tonight. Wow the
Kids in the Hall with Craig Northey (who throughout the show remains cool,
calm and collected). I don't know how he does this but he does this very
well. He fits right in with the Kids. Plus they all realize his musical
genius. This must be why he was "The Chosen One" this tour. Here were the
Kids in their old unpredictable stomping grounds. The Kids experienced some
technical glitches (perhaps Phantom) but they pulled through and remained
funny as usual. I noticed a few scene changes since London and Craig's
sound was now perfect. I think the Kids get better all the time. It shows
that they love what they do. I love watching them all. They make me laugh.
What can I say? It's a must see. If you haven't seen the Kids in the
Hall Live, you must get tickets and Go Now and if you have seen the Kids in
the Hall Live, you must get tickets and Go Now.
Helen Ryken
_________________________________________________________________
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Tonight was triumphant. All the technical things were sorted out and the Kids could play like the old Rivoli days. The Rivoli is the Queen street club where the Kids cut their teeth. Everyone just pushed and pulled on each other and each sketch became liquid. I don’t think I’m exercising favouritism at all when I say that tonight they demonstrated that they are the best sketch comedy troupe in the world. Sketches took on completely new forms as they got loose and played things out. Afterward we all shared a few drinks and met with friends and tomorrow I pick up my clean laundry. What could be finer. To top the day off I have a new nephew. Cameron Northey...just a few hours old. Pretty good day.
I just remembered something from the London show. In the Citizen Kane sketch I sit stage left reading a newspaper so that Kevin can come over and get it from me to prove to Dave that the movie he was watching was, in fact, Citizen Kane. Each night they hand me a section of the local paper. When I opened it in London I found an article discussing the new "blog" (weblog diary) culture. I was actually reading it when Kevin tore the paper out of my hands. So it will be like staring into a mirror while holding up a mirror (the endless repeating tunnel) to say that I was reading a newspaper onstage, about the journal I write and its cultural significance, before I walked outside to talk to fans who told me they read my journal...and now I'm writing in that journal and they are, maybe, reading it. Can a snake swallow its tail by accident?
OK. Toronto. What a beautiful theatre”The Pantages”. You should see what it looks like from the stage when you’re all alone up there. Tonight I did “Old Mistakes” from my album... all by myself, after the Chicken Lady sketch. I had a good time but the whole show was full of technical hiccups for everyone else. I guess its not my hometown so the pressure is off. All the other guys have to deal with the hometown curse. Not me. When something goes wrong on stage they just react and improvise and as a fan I really enjoy those moments. They are so brilliant in their ability to recover. I give extra credit to Kevin MacDonald for being the one to know what to do when the wheels are falling off the wagon. He is a master in covering up when all goes wrong.
I am now officially loving every minute if this.
It unsettles me now that so many people are tuning into my blog and its been really interesting discovering all of the snoopers along the road. Perhaps it will constipate my output as I become self conscious of my readership
I am so out of gas right now that all I am thinking about is how to type without a 60% failure rate. Dave Foley, David Himelfarb and others, whos’ names I will withhold , were just sitting up trying to solve the romantic problems of a friend in attendance. I don’t think it worked but we really enjoyed laughing about his situation. How cruel.
Paul Brennan came out tonight and it was a beautiful thing. Some of you willl remember him from the Odds. One of the great human beings and musicmakers of your time.