It’s nice to sell what one creates and to get some lucre for ones efforts, but when it comes right down to it the most satisfying reward is when someone tells you that your work inspired their work.We got the following email the other day…take a look, its well worth the 4 minutes….
Cowboy Junkies,
I was listening to an interview on NPR featuring you and your song, “I Cannot Sit Sadly By Your Side.” I was so moved by the passion, heart, story, musicality, and vocal talents featured in this song, that I was inspired to create a dance piece for it. I wanted to thank you for the music and send you a link to the final product.
As we creep towards 2012 and the end of the world, we figured that it is only fitting that we have a big “blow out” sale in the Junk Store. So we’ve discounted everything in the store by 20%. The sale will last until the world ends or January 15th (whichever comes first). I hope you are all having a peaceful and safe holiday season.
I hope everyone has a safe and happy holiday season. Here is the quasi-title track from the upcoming Volume 4 (The Wilderness)…our holiday gift to all of you for taking the time and making the effort to listen to what we create. This song owes a huge debt to the Marilynne Robinson novel “Gilead” (as do many of the songs on “The Wilderness”). I have a habit of copying inspiring passages or lines in my notebook when I am reading. I often refer to these notes when I’m doing my own writing or when I’m stuck and looking for a direction. I think I could have copied half of this novel into my notebook. The novel takes the form of a letter written by an elderly, dying pastor to his seven year old son. It is a dense read and the type of book that you only want to undertake when you know you have a good stretch of time to devote to sitting, reading and thinking (such a luxury these days, eh?). Here is a sampling from the book…mull on these thoughts as you stand in line at Target, waiting to return Uncle Ernie’s holiday offerings…”A father must finally give his child up to the wilderness – trust that there will be angels in that wilderness.” …and as you inch closer to the cashier…”We fly forgotten as a dream, leaving the forgetful world behind us to trample and mar and misplace everything we have ever cared for. That is just the way of it, and it is remarkable.” Have a fantastic break…enjoy the music.
Last year we announced that we were about to undertake a four album project called The Nomad Series and that the project was going to be completed in 18 months. Well, depending on how you do the calculation, today is the 18 month anniversary. The way I figure it, we officially released volume 1 (Renmin Park) on June 16th, 2010, so I count that as the official start of the ticking clock. Projecting 18 months forward from that day lands us squarely in the middle of today. So what can I say…oops…we tried, we failed…mea culpa…. My excuse is that the reality of earning a living got in the way of our ambition and I had to suspend production on Volume 4 when I got offered to do the music score for a very interesting documentary project called My Father And The Man In Black (more on that in the months to come). This set the production schedule back by about six weeks. In any case, the good news is that all of the recording for Volume 4 (The Wilderness) has been completed and we have just started mixing. We aim to have the album finished and mastered by mid January and to have the finished goods in hand when we start touring again in February. Once we have the finished master (in mid-January) we plan to have a one day listening party for the new album on the website, so that we can claim that we only missed our deadline by a few weeks (we’ll give everyone a lot of notice about the date when we finalise the details).
Ultimately, the whole point of the project was to put out four albums that forced us to stretch our imaginations and talents and to pull on the experience that we have accumulated in our 25 plus years as a band. We also wanted to make sure that we pushed the expectations of those of you still listening. We think we have done that and we hope you agree. Quality first…right? We think Volume 4 will be a fitting capper to the whole project. I’ll start blogging about the making of the album and posting audio in the New Year, so don’t wander too far. We will also be having a blowout sale in the Junk Store starting right after Christmas so keep your eyes on the site.
Our friend Ron Wells sent us an obituary for the great Hubert Sumlin (posted below). Hubert Sumlin was very instrumental in the genesis of our sound. In the mid-80’s, when we were jamming in the garage and trying to form an aesthetic and direction, Pete and I would often catch Hubert at a little dive of a club on the then desolate end of Queen Street West (I can’t even remember the name of the place). For some reason he came through town fairly often and would pick up a few of the local “blues” musicians and play two or three sets. There would rarely be more than 15 people in the audience, but Pete and I were always there. In-between sets Hubert would come in to the audience and personally thank anyone that was there and sit and talk. His playing was magical. No matter how clumsy and ham-fisted his back up band was, he was always effortless and fluid and endlessly inspired. At the time, Pete and I thought he was ancient (he was only a few years older than I am now) and that was a great inspiration. But the way he completely owned his sound, the way that his instrument was an extension of his personality was what truly thrilled us. He sounded like nobody and nobody sounded like him. We would go home and dig through our Howlin Wolf collection and sure enough, you could easily pick out Hubert in the groove, doing his thing. Bye, bye Mr Sumlin. Thanks for the inspiration.
Hubert Sumlin, Nov. 16, 1931 – Dec. 4, 2011.
Another one of the greatest guitar players to ever walk the planet has died. Listen to his playing on the album “Howlin’ Wolf,” also known as the Rockin’ Chair Album, and you will know everything there is to know about this man’s exceptional skills.
Early last year I saw him play with Pinetop Perkins in a show I’ll never forget. Sadly, both men are now gone. Here’s a brief part of my review from that show:
“Then, midway through the set, the room heated up when Hubert Sumlin walked on stage. Dressed in a black suit and tie, black hat, black shoes with a swatch of white, and with an American flag pin on his lapel, he was dressed to kill, and just as dangerous. His guitar strap had flames on it brought straight from the depths of hell and just as hot as his guitar playing, as he coaxed sounds out of his instrument that the other players just stood and marveled at. School was definitely in session, and Sittin’ on Top of the World was a revelation the way Mr. Sumlin played it.
Hell hath no fury to match a blues god who’s on fire, and so Sumlin sat down and showed how Little Red Rooster is supposed to be played. Then, suddenly, he stood up like struck with lightning, picked that guitar to pieces, and then sat back down. When he was done, he held out both hands, palms down, as if to say, ” ain’’t that the coolest.”
Some developer friends of ours have created a Cowboy Junkies app and given it to us and all of our Blackberry and Android using pals as an early Christmas present. The app will allow you to access the blog through email and social media. We hope to eventually make it so that you can buy our music through it as well. It’s all free so help yourself:
Cartagena (Nov 12)
I think it’s just an unwritten rule of the European Road that the bus has to smell of piss at one point along the way. I’m not sure why that is…surely the Germans have developed the technology to efficiently hold piss in a tank without it smelling. Truth be told, there is no tank on this bus, it all goes straight to the road. Yes, we have been marking our trail across Europe with our pee. It’s an old Canadian trick, you wouldn’t understand. And yet, it still smells in here.
When it is Spain’s turn for the big bailout they should definitely put some money aside to fix the road from Madrid to Cartagena. The journey last night was like travelling 8 hours in a…in a…in a..bus with no suspension….try falling asleep with someone shaking you, with controlled violence, every sixty seconds. In between shakes your body vibrates at a high frequency while you wait for the next round. One begins to understand the power of torture by sleep deprivation. We had no expectations of Cartagena; we were told it was basically an industrial town. But most of us ended up liking it quite a lot. There is a crazy mish-mash of life on its’ streets, in its’ architecture and style. Untold armies of all the great and nasty civilizations have stomped this town. The list is staggering. It is a crazy quilt of Roman ruins and housing projects, Medieval castles and pedestrian walkways. Centuries of human habitation will do that to a place.
The gig tonight was a snoozer. We were exhausted and the audience was flat and didn’t seem to have any knowledge of our music, which can sometimes be a good thing, but tonight we needed a critical mass of energy to will us to be good. It didn’t happen so weren’t very good. But we made up for it by going out after the show with Jorge the promoter rep. He told us about his olive groves and about growing up in Germany and in Spain. He introduced us to a magic yellow elixir. We had fun.
Barcelona (Nov 13)
It turns out that Jorge’s magic yellow elixir is a lot more fun when you are drinking it than it is several hours later. We were dumped off the bus at our hotel at 10am and had to sit around and wait for our rooms to be cleaned…it was a blurry morning. Unfortunately it was a very rainy day in Barcelona. We’ve been very lucky with the weather, but not today, the rain barely let up all day. But we all made an attempt to wander and most of us found our way to the Sagrada Familia; Antoni Gaudi’s crowning glory to God. Most of you have probably at least seen images of this church, in person it is truly awe-inspiring, whether one likes the design is kind of irrelevant when faced with such a singular and massive vision. I definitely need a lot more time in this city. I think a week would do me fine….I just love the feel of this place.
We had a very good gig to end off this run of dates. It was in a very interesting theatre/club: an old and beat up room but it had a good feel and the people working it were great. An excellent audience tonight and we gave them what we had left. This has been a very fun couple of weeks for us. We are all exhausted and a little beat up but we had many excellent shows and went to a lot of cities and places that we have never visited. I think Spain has been a revelation to us all. It is such a big-hearted country with enough nooks and crannies to keep one exploring for years. We definitely need to get back soon…….Time to head home and finish up volume 4…stay tuned.
We were leaving Paris last night when the bus came to a very abrupt halt on the expressway and pulled, suddenly, to the shoulder. Before we could figure out what was happening we saw our back-up driver, outside, standing in traffic, futilely trying to stop oncoming vehicles. The tunnel that we were about to enter was too short for the bus so the only way out was in reverse, 50 yards back up the expressway on-ramp. It may have been midnight, but in Paris the traffic doesn’t stop, it was just car after car after car with the occasional truck blowing by. After spending about ten minutes watching our driver’s failing attempts to stop the flow of traffic, Farns couldn’t take it anymore and forced his way off the bus (yes, Sir John Farnsworth is back on the crew for this run, after the past several years spent in stasis at the Casino-Rama Nirvana). He quickly and forcefully organized the impatient Parisians, stopping and redirecting traffic with the confidence of a New York City cop. It was quite something to see. He actually diverted traffic on a very busy, very fast Parisian street. I think if they gave Farns a chance he could probably solve the Euro crisis…those Greeks wouldn’t stand a chance in the face of Farns’ determination, the Germans and French would become fast friends and move forward with a single purpose, the Italians and Spaniards would be humbled and would quickly get their houses in order…heck, he might even be able to get the English to come join the party. After that he could turn to the US and sort out that mess. What the world needs now is a little more Farns.
We were a little disappointed with San Sebastien. We broke the cardinal rule of touring, which is “No Expectations”. We had way too many expectations for this day off, in this town. We had visions of a small, quaint, seaside town, tucked away in Northern Spain between the Pyrenees and the Bay of Biscay. Well, it’s not that small, it’s not that quaint, and there is garbage tumbling in the surf. I get the feeling that one comes here on vacation to do a lot of drinking and to be seen by others. But it’s the off-season and it’s time for the locals to relax and perhaps let the town crumble for a couple of months. Aside from that, it’s a beautiful location, the weather is great and it’s hard to complain too much when you’re sitting on the patio of a seaside cafe sucking on a beer watching the local surfers take on the waves. No wonder the Spanish were so taken with California, this could be a Northern California coast. This sure is better than spending a day-off in a hotel on a highway somewhere in the middle of the US, but it ain’t no Bruge….man, we’re getting spoiled.
The audience tonight was close to spectacular. Their enthusiasm transformed this show. I think we were in danger of letting this one get away but the audience kept us focused and inspired. It’s very exciting when something like that happens. Chalk this one up as another very good show.
Madrid (Nov 11)
We got in to town at around noon and we all jumped off the bus and tried to take in as much of Madrid as possible in the few hours before soundcheck. Al and I went for a stroll along the magnificent Paseo Del Prado and ended up at the Prado Museum. I spent the day marvelling at the madness of Velazquez, Goya, Caravaggio, Fra Angelico, El Greco and the absolute bats-flying-out-your-ass maddest of them all, Mr H. “pish-posh” Bosch. I have only had a few sniffs at Madrid in the past twenty five years. We’ve never had a day off here and we have only passed through town (mainly on PR runs) a couple of times. But I’ve always liked what I’ve seen and now I’m more keen than ever for a return visit. I would love to have a few days to explore these streets. This city has a terrific energy.
This was a very tough day for Jared and John (especially for John). Because of the location of the theatre we couldn’t get the bus close to it, so it meant loading the gear from the bus on to a van and then driving the van to the theatre and loading it into the theatre and then repeating the whole ordeal at the end of the night. Two load-ins and two load-outs make for a very tough day for the crew. It’s hard to describe tonight’s venue…a modern facility built underneath a public square, the whole facility was underground. The theater itself was very bunker-like, low ceilings and large comfortable leather chairs for the audience. It was an odd night on stage…it’s hard for me to judge our performance because I had a tough time with my sound and never really settled in (too many images of dying Christ’s and weeping Mary’s in my head). It definitely didn’t have the energy or excitement of some of the best gigs on this tour, but it had its moments. The highlight of the night for me was Pete heading off on some tangent, in search of Max Roach, during Working On A Building. We definitely need to get back here soon.
Bruges (Nov 6 and 7)
If you are looking to spend a vacation in the Europe of fairytales and children’s books then Bruge is about as good a place to start as any. A damsel in distress, a couple of white knights on horseback, even a fire breathing dragon wouldn’t look out of place in this town. Apparently it is the best preserved medieval city in Europe and who am I to argue, this place is spectacular. Cobblestones, hidden grottos, canals, excellent food, 1030 varieties of beer, gothic architecture, medieval architecture, churches, cathedrals, museums, monasteries, Beguinages, ancient bridges, haunted houses, works by Masters, vials of holy blood, this city has it all. The only place you could find a more authentic medieval-European experience would be at Epcot Center or at your local Medieval Times restaurant…but I recommend Bruges, because of the beer selection. We were fortunate enough to have a day off here and we took full advantage of it (I have a question for any of you beer connoisseurs’ out there: there is a very distinctive taste to most Belgium beer, it could be a spice, it almost tastes like cloves, does anyone know what it is?).
The venue was equally spectacular: a late 19th century circular theatre with a fully raked stage and tiered balconies: very beautiful and it actually sounded decent as well. The show was a strange one but a very good one. Because of the type of stage there was a large distance between us and the audience it was also a very formal theatre, which can sometimes be intimidating to audiences and also, Belgium audiences are relatively reserved. So the energy coming from the audience during the show was very low, but that allowed us to turn inward a little bit and explore some very quiet and detailed improvisations. Judging by the reaction of the audience at the end of the show, I figure that they were very pleased with the result. This has been a pretty fantastic couple of days spent in a very special town.
Paris (Nov 8)
Paris is not Bruge. It’s not quaint or charming or easy to get around in. Paris is Paris, enormous and sprawling and beautiful out one window and ugly out the other. Paris is work unless you are on vacation. We rolled in this morning and had to dump ourselves off the bus because it, of course, can’t sit outside the club. It was cold and damp and….Paris. Don’t get me wrong, I love this city under the right conditions, but a one-off at a pokey club in the Pigalle District (the famous red light district of Paris) is not one of those conditions. But we’re pros, so we hunkered down and made the club our home for the day. And then again, when you get right down to it, work in Paris is pretty much better than work anywhere else in the world. So I had an espresso and pain au chocolate at a nearby cafe; some of us trekked uphill to pay their respects to Sacre Coeur; and we ate dinner at a nearby Cafe that fed us some mediocre food at very expensive Montmartre prices and then, I think, we were subjected to some kind of scam being run by the wait staff on gullible English speaking tourists…hey man, it’s Paris and you’re welcome.
The gig was awesome…we were feeling old and gnarly so that’s what we gave them….old and gnarly, and they liked it. Paris and its residents, rock….a totally gnarly day.
