There's a million old adages about playing with fire and I clearly haven't listened to any of them.
Coming in towards Regina, I see gigantic bonfires burning by the side of the road. Around 20 of them all in a line, like a bizarre ritualistic runway in the middle of a wheat field. Kind of beautiful, but what on earth was it for? I tried to take pictures through the car window while going 140 (for some reason they don't suggest this technique in photo magazines...), but the results weren't great (surprising, I know!). So, realizing I was a bit early, I turned down a gravel road, past a farmhouse to get a better look. To my left, a full moon had come out and across a yellow canola field I saw the long shape of dog running towards the farmhouse in the distance - a striking visual and would have made a great picture.
Coming closer to the flames, the car starts to make a funny noise in the front... almost like it's pushing something... I slow down and realize that the gravel road has become a soil road, made of brown dark earth. On either side a truck of some kind has dug deep wheel wells but has left a pile of dirt in the middle that I have started plowing through. I stop the car. Whatever the VW bug was made for, it was not plowing soil. I get out to make sure that the car is okay. Which is when I hear the barking.
Turning around I see the dog mentioned before racing towards me intent, I am sure, on eating me. Now I'm generally a dog person, but I respect them enough to understand territory and intruders. I also suspect that behind a barking farmhouse dog may be a farmer with a shotgun. I slam the door, shift into reverse, and floor it, plowing soil and gravel everywhere. The dog keeps up. I crank my neck to the right, trying to stay on the road, weaving like a madman past the farmhouse and towards the highway. At the last minute, the dog suddenly loses interest. The intruder was driven away and the dog trots happily back towards the farmhouse.
I on the other hand am freaked out and, while massaging my neck, resolve now to drive TOWARDS fires and not to antagonize prairie dogs anymore. I head into town.
My mom would like me to clarify that Regina was where I was born and apparently only moved to Saskatoon in 1983, when I was 7! Maybe it's that I've blocked out parts of it, or that we lived inbetween being born and being 7 on a farmhouse and in South Dakota, but I still consider Saskatoon more of a hometown. Which is not to say that Regina wasn't familiar - I still got some memory bubble moments of "hey! That's a museum I went to!" or "hey! That's Wascana park!... there were geese there!" I wish I could have stayed longer and explored more - I'm sure there are tons of untouched memories lying around in my head.
In town I meet up with a good friend from Toronto who I'll be playing with, Jeff Straker (www.jeffstraker.com). Jeff and I are often on parallel career paths (we're both singer/songwriters with theatre and marketing backgrounds who rely on strong voices - and we kind of look the same if you squint), but lately he's taken leaps and bounds beyond me. He quit his job and moved out to the prairies and has done 80 shows in the past couple months, slowly making a name for himself. And he deserves it, he's a great piano player with a kickass voice.
We get some Thai food and, as we often do, rabidly catch up on eachother's careers. I like talking music with Jeff - maybe it's that he plays piano and I'm a guitarist - but there's no jealousy of any kind between us. Just helpful comradery.
We head over to the club (aptly named "The Club") and unload our stuff. The Club is part of "The Exchange" which is a funny building off the main drag (Albert St.) in Regina. Unfortunately, it's a bit too far off the main drag and there are rarely any walk-in traffic, requiring people to bring their own crowd (a problem when you're from out of town).
Jeff's band arrives - bass and cello - some really nice folks who are amazing players. I never like going on solo after a band, but it's a small intimate place and I figure it'll be okay.
Next door, The Exchange is hosting a huge local radio fundraiser. The way the place is set up is, as you walk in, you see a big open door with music coming out of it - that's The Exchange. The side door, which is closed, is The Club, where we're playing... see if you can spot where this is going...
We finally get some audience - two of them, in fact. Really sweet folks from Jeff's hometown and good listeners. Jeff and the band open up and, considering the crowd, put all their energy into it. They sound amazingly tight and polished - like they've played 80 show recently!
I get up and due to the audience size, I move the mike off the stage to four feet away from them - to make a bit of a living room vibe. I play well, although my voice feels a bit strained. Near the end of the set, a bunch of people come from the other club and sit down to listen. They sing along and know the words to Christina Aguilera's Fighter (a tour hit so far). Then we find out that they'd been sitting next door in the Exchange listening to band after band waiting for Jeff or me to come on! Sigh... They also paid the benefit $10 each and we can't really ask them to pay for our show.... what a mess. Still, the show goes fine - Jeff gets back up and plays for those guys and a couple other people trickle in. I end up selling a bunch of CDs and donating one to a drag-show benefit that Jeff's drag friends (who unsurprisingly in retrospect knew Christina lyrics...). We find out later that a bunch more of Jeff's friends spent the whole night next door... Sheesh!
During Jeff's set I get to talk to John Dufort, who started The Club many years ago, in a different location, and who's billeting me for the night. John's a sweet guy - really nice - but seems disappointed in the turnout - apparently The Club used to be a cooler word-of-mouth great music sort of place, but has recently become a rental hall - anyone can come and they have to bring their own audience.
Anyway, I liked the show. Jeff and I go out for a drink afterwards and drunkenly talk music (well, maybe me a bit more drunkenly...). This is dumb because I have to get up at 4 in the morning to drive to Edmonton, but it's nice to see a familiar face and nice to talk music with someone who knows what I'm doing and supports it.
I head home, get into bed, remember to set the alarm and fall asleep. 4am comes much too early.
