Musings

 

Vancouver '04 Tour Review; as far as I remember it

by Mike Soret

 

I promised about six months ago to talk about my tour to Vancouver in July. A load of shit has hit the fan in that time so I'm a little behind, but I'll try to fill in the blanks now.

Speaking of shit, my last rant here cost me my friendship with longtime guitarist Sam Petite. He became understandably tired of my rambling opinions being the official word of the band. Duh, where was he at those thousand or so drunken gigs? Oh well, he's got better paychecks than I could give him so he doesn't have to listen to me any more. The last rant was also a final straw in a burning barn of a relationship I then had. Unnamed wench was offended that in an earlier draft I stated "...we'll be playing in Vancouver in June over her dead body". If anyone saw how she carried on at our Toronto show they wouldn't question such a line, but nobody likes to have their shit talked about it seems. So what's the point of talking then.

I would have cancelled those Vancouver shows actually except for her. See I had moved back to Winnipeg after six of the suckiest months of my life in Calgary, was doing fine, was nice and busy film catering and didn't need the aggravation of going half way across the country for a gig that wouldn't even cover my ticket. But I wanted to see her and had no idea that she'd stand me up to impress her new boyfriend. What a nightmare! Wandering around Calgary like a lousy schmuk asking her friends where she is and being told she's with Him. Thanks. At least in Vancouver I got to see my daughter, and that was swell, maybe some day…

That out of the way I guess I should talk about the gigs. The first one was at the railway, a few hours after my plane landed. The band hadn't played together in months, the drummer for the night had never heard the band (though he played way better than me), Sam and I smoked copious amounts and slapped together a set list. But I was tired from the flight and the exhaustion of my film gig, so the booze and 'tea' went right to my head and I was ruined before we even started playing. There's some fat bastard DJ in Winnipeg who hosts some kinda strip show and jello wrestling contests and I went into some crazy rant about him and the audacity of creatures like that influencing women's body image. Mostly however it was just a classic crazed aggressive scream "Alicia Flockhart!" "Hal Anderson" "fat bastard" "die fat bastard die!"

I don't know how I get away with such performances. I always expect at the end of the night to hear: "That wasn't jazz music, you're just a drunken psycho, I ain't giving you a dime". But once again, I took the money and ran.

The next night was completely the opposite. Completely. Instead of making a ton of money and everyone hating us, we made nothing and they loved us. I was too hung-over and embarrassed from the night before to drink much, so my playing was decent, my jokes were humble, and my rants were subdued. It was at a little place on Main street called 'The Main'. Nice place, too bad the pay stinks. We played opposite my other band Golden Wedding Band, which I had handed over the reigns to one Andrew Burden. It's for the best. I didn't have time to make GWB into a real band, so I just gave the book to Andrew who was nipping at my heels anyway. Hear they're doing well, good for them.

Post script: not much musically happening for me in Winnipeg for now. That's ok, I screwed things up with a real good guitar player here, for his sake not mine won't mention how, and haven't found anyone else good to work with though there's tons of talented players here. Just finished the first draft of a screen play of the life of my Baba. Hope to do something with it, though the family objects. Ha. What would they do disown me? Cheap bastards don't own me now. I can live without the inheritance of a hide a bed and a couple hundred bucks. I'm woodshedding, and that's the best time for any artist.

 

Contact: molestics@ourrant.ca