Once more into the fray

The Railway Club is a harsh mistress.  In many ways, the last bastion of independent music in Vancouver, hers is a stage to be sought after, to be cherished and celebrated.  And I do, I do, I promise you.  Each moment on her little stage is gold, whether we engage the in-before-the-cover-charge-7:30pm-post-work-don’t-give-a-shit-about-live-music audience or not, whether we are interrupted for hockey (and made to play inbetween periods) or not, whether the sound guy shows up in time for a sound check or not (always not), whether the ancient curtain tears off the ceiling in your hands the moment you attempt to draw it closed, or not (actually I stopped trying a while ago once it was down to two hooks holding it up at all), whether someone is bitching about how we used to get beer and food for this gig, or not.  Gold, I tell you, gold.  Pulling off a win under such circumstances is a very juicy win indeed, and I am in no mind to quit now.

Should you find yourself uncommitted on Wednesday the 30th of May, and in the Vancouver area, perhaps you’d like to join us above the corner of Dunsmuir and Seymour street around 7:30pm for a very special* evening

*Special as in, I can promise you there is nothing quite the same as a Railway Club show.  My best advice is to go with the flow and sit near the front.  The food is also worth a try.

Greetings from the mid-ground

If the meteor gets me tomorrow, let it be said that I had reached this place.  This place, having been told I could not get here (and that I should not even try, for that matter) turned out to be within reach, and more, far more, than I could have imagined.

So, while on paper (here at tax-time), I appear as a barely subsistent contractor, a statistic well below the poverty line, the truth is I’m living the life of a fat cat mack daddy surrounded by creative types, fancy shows and barbecue.

How?  This is where I insert an add for a self-help book.  No, no.  The answer must be – carefully, and with plenty of socialism.  I drive a co-op vehicle, live in a co-op, make art co-operatively and trade my skills for protein from a fishing co-operative.  Looks like a pattern to me.

If  it all turns out to be a house of cards, a fool’s journey ending in misery, poverty, loneliness or any of the other apocalyptic scenarios for which I was forewarned, then let this note be a signpost in time, a picture of when I knew for a fact that I had it really, really good*.

 

*Don’t hate me for being self-satisfied.  It is a fleeting experience and best, and hey, I could be completely kidding myself, wasting my days in idle pursuits instead of , say,  paying into a pension like a wage-earning, smart guy.

 

The Super Monkeyson Supper Show

How do you write a successful grant when your primary goal is to destroy the established system?  A foolish question with too-broad parameters, I know, but I bring up the topic in the knowledge of my current lyrical content (mostly blasphemy with a few jabs at militarism and corporate culture*).  It stands to reason that the man lobbing tomatoes at the king will not be invited to the king’s feast.  Fortunately, that metaphor is too small for the real world, and  it would seem that many funding bodies are only too happy to hire the anti-establishment weirdo band for their big Summer festival.  So, gigs are coming in for the LFM horn orchestra, a status of which I am proud.  Grants are another thing altogether.

But the real answer to ‘how-to-write-a-successful-grant-while-evil’ is:  get your wife to do it for you.  Seriously, I’m crap at grant writing.  That’s why I make pretty things to sell to rich people.  That’s why I make myself useful in a collective (hi MOPARRC!) where smart people, like my wife, do the grant writing, and I do the poster designs and the hole digging.

But keep that image of the guy tossing tomatoes at the king in mind for me, would you?  ‘Cause that’s who I am and what I’m doing, on the chance it doesn’t come across right away.  My father used to warn me that, someday, my lifestyle choices would mean ‘there’ll be a day of reckoning’, by which he meant that I would be a poor, destitute, homeless artist instead of an employed, happy man with two acres of lawn.   But I think our day of reckoning will come in many forms:  electoral reforms, limitations of corporate power, the rise of organic food, the payback on investment in renewable power,  and the death of apathy as we begin to awaken ourselves to the real task of finding closed-loop systems of living on a finite planet  I believe the old boys club will fight dirty and to the death, put as many of us in jail as they can, and never admit they are wrong, greedy or foolish to believe in invisible magic super-beings.  But, what are ya gonna do?  We have to work around them, in spite of them.

Well, goodness me, look at all that blather.  Hey, I’m having a show on Wednesday April 18th at the Railway Club.  7:30 – 8:30.  Free!!!!

Note: Legion of Flying Monkeys Horn Orchestral Members may appear differently than pictured above.  Same volume, though.

*You didn’t know that Canada was a post-democratic Theocracy run by the military/industrial complex?  I should have mentioned it earlier.

Words cannot express…

…the very fulfilling joy that is a decent performance.  Last Saturday, the Legionnaires hosted an event called ‘LFM Evil Cult-o Licious Lounge’ at the Ironworks (our perennial favourite, fancy jazz club-for-rent).  A good time was had, to say the least.

My hope is that you, dear reader, will be able to click on the image below and have the option of enlarging this panoramic picture (assembled from three photos taken by the very lovely Sharon Kallis), and have the opportunity to scroll along its length.  I will say that recordings have yet to capture the complexity of such moments.  Perhaps that is only my bias.   What was captured was the entirety of the LFM set by the Mighty Landrew (pictured above in the centre, partly obscured by his very large bass horn).  Our best moment, in my humble opinion was this track called ‘Massive Cannon in G minor’

Thanks for reading.  Gotta go.  Sharon’s having a bunch-o keeners over for tea, and I’m the requisite arm-candy.

For all your woodhorn manufacturing update needs.

That’s right, I almost forgot.  We’re doing another show at the Ironworks.  If you haven’t already signed away your St. Patrick’s Day (Saturday March 17th), the band and I will be hosting a few special guests like super-cellist John Ames and DJ Jake DeNiro for an evening of mildly demented fun in a very comfortable atmosphere.  All this for a mere $15 at the door.  Ironworks can be found at the corner of Main and Alexander down in Gastown (Vancouver, if you’re reading this from elsewhere).  But don’t believe me, believe the poster.

Although I mention St. Paddy’s Day as a marker, you should note dear reader, that persons seeking their annual dose of fine Irish culture may come away from a Legion of Flying Monkeys event both bewildered and unfulfilled.*  For the rest of you, I hope you can come out.  Hit me up if the fifteen bucks is an issue.

*And possibly deeply, deeply offended.

In the nick of time

Mere moments remain in this year.   An arbitrary deadline, to be certain, but a milestone to have finished this custom horn project before Dec 31st.  And now for a case in which to carry it to far away places.

Still reading?  Okay, the Legion of Flying Monkeys Horn Orchestra (including the secret owner of this fabulous new honker) will be playing the Railway Club in Vancouver BC, Wednesday January 25th from 7:30 – 8:30pm.  You could do worse things on a Wednesday night, for free.   Since we’re still talking, look on my links list (just to the right) to see the pics from this last Clown Parade (photos by Peter Lolley!)

Hornmaker’s Studio Drama

Just when I was starting to see the light at the end of the wooden tube,  feeling that rush of pleasure from a job nearly complete and a new instrument to add into the orchestra, along comes adversity to kick my ass.

Some self-congratulatory photos carefully edited for your pleasure.

Two coats of varnish on the inside, and whammo – the seam on my maple ‘up-pipe’ starts to split open!

The difference between heaven and hell is one millimeter.

Despite my large inner turmoil (the possibility that half of the horn would need to be replaced, a setback of several months), I mentioned this to nobody, certainly not my client,  for a week and a half while the horn went under serious binding measures and the introduction of oak bands that should have been in place before I varnished.  Word to the wise.

Do I make you horny, baby?

Nine days later, the crack is closed up, and we’re back on track.  Friggin’ maple.  I shoulda known.

Sweet relief.  What else could possibly go wrong?  If you’ve managed to read this far I question your time management skills, but still feel compelled to reward you, good surfer.  To that end, here is the Clown Parade image for this year’s event happening on December 17th starting around 6pm at my place.  Send me a message and I’ll add you to the list of Inner, Inner Sanctum Legionnaires (following a short, painless criminal background check, naturally.  You understand, right?)

This year, similar to last, it is a semi-private event with the before and after-parade at our house.  So don’t go blabbing about it on the innertube, if it’s all the same to you.  Thanks for looking.