I feel like a giddy junkie scoring on the sidewalk in broad daylight outside the slammer after 60 days. I’m importing to iTunes the 20 or so CDs that I bought or traded for my own in Nashville but couldn’t listen to there because the disk drive in my laptop was acting wonky the whole time.
I have a funny feeling that my favourite will be Mountain Sea by Desert Noises. I saw them twice and must admit I have a huge crush on this soft-spoken, loud-playin’ four-piece from Utah. I was the guy in the crowd yelling Utah!! Couldn’t contain myself. They are amazing. Like a modern-day beachless Beach Boys at their mature, Pet Sounds best. Only different. In close second will likely be Dead Woman Walkin’ by Megan Jean and the KFB. KFB stands for Klay Family Band, but it could just as easily stand for Kickass Fuckin’ Banjo. Maybe you can get it on iTunes, but don’t. Google them and get yourself a plane ticket. Buy them drinks and a hotel room. This husband-wife duo have been living in their car and touring the good ol’ USA for years, playing 200 shows every 365 days. Calm Byrne plays banjo and electric guitar. Animated Megan Jean plays acoustic guitar, kick drum, hardcore washboard and lungs from somewhere just the other side of Purgatory.
If that plane ticket happens to land you near Nashville, spend Tuesday nights at The Basement. It’s New Faces night, where unknown and occasionally eventually-to-be-massive artists play 15 minutes each with the coveted final act allotted 20 whole luscious minutes. It’s a crap shoot. You may indeed hear crap. But you will hear gold. That’s where I heard Desert Noises and Megan Jean & the KFB. Split your other nights between The Basement and Belcourt Taps where I saw many great country rounds and traveling bands. Let’s not forget the Bluebird and 12th and Porter. Oh, the list of venues is too long. But there are my four favourites.
My friend Gina gives frequent thanks to her friends and the universe in general for what she calls the abundance in her life. Gina is not rich. Not the way you’d normally define it, anyway. But she sees it differently and has helped me see things a little differently too.
I returned home to abundance indeed. A brilliant young local violinist emailed to say he just found an apartment in town and asked when my wrist would be healed enough so we can play together again. Another old friend said she is selling her downtown condo, did I want a deal? I’m considering. I had a great chat with my boss, for whom I’ve been working remotely for the past two months from Nashville via email and Skype. She is in full support of the plan to continue trekking back and forth across the border in search of a Nashville cut. An energetic and melodic young pop-jazz songwriter I met at the Bluebird Café Sunday evening emailed to ask when I’d be south again, maybe we can co-write.
I am in a state of flux. Hovering between the poetic introspective alt-rock songs about uncertainty from my past and the inspiration to write more universal and positive pop and country songs for my future. I’ve been so inspired and touched by several indie rock, country and quirky acts these past two months. I can’t tell which way the weather vane is pointing.
Nothing “big” has happened, but I am a touch drunk with possibility, much of it simply unseen or underappreciated before.
Many thanks to Pauline, Oliver, Gina, Richard, Ashley, the NSAI office gang, Rob, Steve, Rose, Ambra, Roy, Gabe, Jesse, Emma, Rocky. I must be forgetting a few, apologies.
My summer in Nashville wasn’t at all what it was supposed to be. I crashed my bike. Busted my wrist. Broke my heart. Nothing went according to plan. Plan A, that is.
Look around you, my friends. Put on your rose-coloured glasses. Throw away your other lenses. What good are they anyway?
I have a funny feeling that my favourite will be Mountain Sea by Desert Noises. I saw them twice and must admit I have a huge crush on this soft-spoken, loud-playin’ four-piece from Utah. I was the guy in the crowd yelling Utah!! Couldn’t contain myself. They are amazing. Like a modern-day beachless Beach Boys at their mature, Pet Sounds best. Only different. In close second will likely be Dead Woman Walkin’ by Megan Jean and the KFB. KFB stands for Klay Family Band, but it could just as easily stand for Kickass Fuckin’ Banjo. Maybe you can get it on iTunes, but don’t. Google them and get yourself a plane ticket. Buy them drinks and a hotel room. This husband-wife duo have been living in their car and touring the good ol’ USA for years, playing 200 shows every 365 days. Calm Byrne plays banjo and electric guitar. Animated Megan Jean plays acoustic guitar, kick drum, hardcore washboard and lungs from somewhere just the other side of Purgatory.
If that plane ticket happens to land you near Nashville, spend Tuesday nights at The Basement. It’s New Faces night, where unknown and occasionally eventually-to-be-massive artists play 15 minutes each with the coveted final act allotted 20 whole luscious minutes. It’s a crap shoot. You may indeed hear crap. But you will hear gold. That’s where I heard Desert Noises and Megan Jean & the KFB. Split your other nights between The Basement and Belcourt Taps where I saw many great country rounds and traveling bands. Let’s not forget the Bluebird and 12th and Porter. Oh, the list of venues is too long. But there are my four favourites.
My friend Gina gives frequent thanks to her friends and the universe in general for what she calls the abundance in her life. Gina is not rich. Not the way you’d normally define it, anyway. But she sees it differently and has helped me see things a little differently too.
I returned home to abundance indeed. A brilliant young local violinist emailed to say he just found an apartment in town and asked when my wrist would be healed enough so we can play together again. Another old friend said she is selling her downtown condo, did I want a deal? I’m considering. I had a great chat with my boss, for whom I’ve been working remotely for the past two months from Nashville via email and Skype. She is in full support of the plan to continue trekking back and forth across the border in search of a Nashville cut. An energetic and melodic young pop-jazz songwriter I met at the Bluebird Café Sunday evening emailed to ask when I’d be south again, maybe we can co-write.
I am in a state of flux. Hovering between the poetic introspective alt-rock songs about uncertainty from my past and the inspiration to write more universal and positive pop and country songs for my future. I’ve been so inspired and touched by several indie rock, country and quirky acts these past two months. I can’t tell which way the weather vane is pointing.
Nothing “big” has happened, but I am a touch drunk with possibility, much of it simply unseen or underappreciated before.
Many thanks to Pauline, Oliver, Gina, Richard, Ashley, the NSAI office gang, Rob, Steve, Rose, Ambra, Roy, Gabe, Jesse, Emma, Rocky. I must be forgetting a few, apologies.
My summer in Nashville wasn’t at all what it was supposed to be. I crashed my bike. Busted my wrist. Broke my heart. Nothing went according to plan. Plan A, that is.
Look around you, my friends. Put on your rose-coloured glasses. Throw away your other lenses. What good are they anyway?
