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Love and Heartache With the Hello Darlins

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As I sit down to write about an evening of Love and Heartache, I take pause, wondering how musicians feel about amateur videos being plastered around on-line. I’d like to post a couple here, but I hesitate. I’ll continue to take pause until such a time as I can connect with the artists. (Alright…so, I have permission, but my oh my, this takes time.) Return tomorrow for the inclusion of a little bit of music!) If anyone wants to see Purple Rain or the introductory acts, just let me know and I’ll add them.

It would have been a blessing if I had the opportunity on Valentine’s evening to babysit my grandson so that his Mommy and Daddy could enjoy the evening together. I know that my daughter had stocked the snack cupboard with chips and gin, so I was set. Their little family has been really really busy lately and dealing with, it seems, one type of cold or flu after another for a month, now. However, I was only too happy to accept the invitation to attend the selected event with my daughter, alone, because her husband had been struggling with illness for the entire week.

Kit Johnson, who, it turns out, attended Widdifield High School, as I did, in North Bay, Ontario back in the late 60s, was the opening act on the Ironwood stage. The show would be one dedicated to songs of Love and Heartbreak. It was obvious, from the start, that there was a positive and supportive audience gathered and I knew it was going to be a good-vibe sort of evening. I was really happy to be sharing an event with my daughter! Patrick led us in and we were seated in the very front, sharing a table with a lovely couple who seemed lit up with cheerfulness. Almost immediately, they shared that they were delighted to pick up these tickets for Valentine’s night.

Here, Kit is sharing the stage with Calgary-based vocalist/producer Candace Lacina and keyboardist/producer Mike Little. Hello Darlins was comprised of a fabulous cast of professional studio musicians. Apart from the percussionist, every single person did vocals that night and GOOD vocals, to boot.

The evening was a generous outpouring of talent, voices and positive intention. The music was top notch as a whole variety of blues, Americana and country spilled out into the crowd. Special guest, Joey Landreth, certainly contributed skill and energy to the mix! It was a perfect night!

I have the sweetest clip of guitarist, Murray Pulver, playing a tune that he sang to his bride twenty years ago, this after announcing that he didn’t think he had done the number since. Nice interlude from Joey. Love spilled forth as he performed.

Loree Harris Macdonald has a warm and buttery voice and did a fabulous job as back up singer to these dynamos. Such a commitment to the art was so evident in all of the musicians who shared this stage.

Allison Granger’s fiddle music and vocals…unbelievably sweet! Oh, man. No photos…most of the time, I was gobsmacked, singing along or recording. I have a cool one where she breaks out in a solo after Joey hands it over to her…so wonderful. That’s Mike Little on the organ. Amazing, dude!

Brett Ashton was tucked away in the back, near percussion (Thank you, Kent Macrae!) but seriously, who doesn’t love the bass? Big surprise?? The man can sing! I think mouths dropped and there was a hush in the room as he sang…if you can stand the cliche…like an angel.

I got pictures of this man. Who wouldn’t? He happened to be standing right in front of us. A remarkable musician! See Joey Landreth perform! Check out some of the professional videos published out there and wet your whistles. I suppose when people share their little bits from concerts, they are trying to capture a memory, as much as anything. They rarely represent the musicality, sound or the beauty and aesthetic of the event.

Producer/songwriter/performer Daron Schofield was exceptional, leading us near the tail end of the second set, with an interpretation of Purple Rain. I recorded the whole darned thing, I was so smitten, so I didn’t get a still photo. I wanted my sister-friend (a HUGE PRINCE FAN) to see the recording. In the end, I’m sad that I didn’t get a nice portrait shot.

As for Candace and Mike, well, they just seem to have hearts that are constantly bursting open and sharing good feeling with all. In fact, I was surprised that at the break, Candace made her way to me and hugged me because she felt so supported by me as I sang along. She agreed with me that the energy in the audience was magical. In the meantime, Mike was congratulating Larry and Cory, who, it turned out, were celebrating their 32nd wedding anniversary on Valentine’s Day.

This post hardly captures or even summarizes the energy and love that filled the Ironwood on Valentine’s night. Erin and I were tired when we set out to attend the event that night, agreeing that we needn’t stay for the whole show. In the end, I was thrilled by the show from beginning until end and we finally made our way slowly to the door during the encore. I highly recommend Hello Darlins, if you see tickets go up anywhere in our fair province.

Good to see you, Jackie and Rick!

If you’re in the band and this makes its way to you…let me know if I can post a clip or two. It was a brilliant performance. Thanks, Kit.

Katie said, “You’re the Painter.”

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There are certain people in the world who have the knack for inspiring me to be a better person (and I use the term BETTER as it expresses itself in humility, kindness, empathy and plain hard work and creativity) and one of those people, for me, has been Katie Ohe.  I don’t know that she knows that she has that influence with me, but this is how some one who is truly remarkable can be laying down seeds in other people’s hearts.

I’ve written about her a few times.

In 2013, I wrote about the objects that live in Katie and Harry’s home.

In 2017, I wrote about KOAC and the experience of a studio tour, led by my creative friend, Wendy Lees.

And also, in 2013, I looked for a way to process my connection with Katie through a poem.  You see, she had taken some time, in the light of her kitchen window, to leaf through the pages of her sketchbook with me, and to talk about the experience of having ‘painter’s block’.  She spoke with me about painting.  She asked me, with all sincerity, about me.  I felt affirmed.  I felt filled.

A few weeks ago, I knew that the exhibit of Katie’s work at the Esker Foundation, was drawing closer.  As would be the case, I thought that Katie might be surrounded by many people…important people…at the opening. I couldn’t imagine myself getting anywhere near her. When I saw that the Herringer Kiss Gallery was hosting an exhibit of early works by both Katie Ohe and Harry Kiyooka, I thought that I would take the chance to visit her at that opening, so that I might make contact and wish her blessings for the big event.

It turns out that I had a lovely chat with both Katie and Harry in the peace of the gallery.  She looked into my face and her eyes looked that remarkable blue and as she held one of my hands in both of hers, she said, “You are the painter.”

These words were/are transformative words.  I am changed in the way that I think of myself, in the way that I feel and in the way that I am processing the events of my life, even the simple every day events.  I can’t explain it.

Included here, a few of the images from the opening at the Esker Foundation.  I got no where near Katie.  It was such a mighty celebration of her art and her life, I felt it was just marvelous to witness her with friends, former students, well-wishers.  As I was negotiating my way from the bar and past the steps to the nest, at one point, she looked up and literally our gazes met in the big hubbub and we smiled at one another.  That was enough.

(I know…i sound like a blithering goofball here, but, Katie is a hero for me, as she is for so many others.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Robbie Burns Day With Joan

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Early morning, before my walk at the river and after a phone call with my friend, Joan, Max and I attempted a selfie session, with a variety of results. He began by turning his back to the camera. Here are a few of his very personalized expressions.  I was just so relieved in the morning because the afternoon before saw Maxman downing a half a large fruit cake while I was wandering about watching coyotes.  As a result he had to visit the vet and, gratefully, Dr. Justine, averted any more drama.

In the afternoon, I headed for Trinity Lodge.  I had an opportunity to enjoy a performance with Joan in her new residence.  Joan has made a recent move to the Lodge and I was pleased to find her in terrific humour and to have a beautiful friend in Sophie.

Together, we watched a Robert Burns tribute delivered by St. Andrew Caledonia Society of Calgary, in preparation for today’s official anniversary.

First a wee pipe, then a brief history was given by Ian, followed by a recitation of this poem.  Well, it’s longish and so that I don’t lose my readers, I’ll post it at the end.  The title is To a Mouse: On Turning her up in her Nest, with a Plough, written in 1785.

The Program:

Bringing in the Haggis:

I really enjoyed that the residents to the left and right of me were able to, in part, recite the poems and songs that were shared in the afternoon.

I feel very grateful that Joan is making adjustments to her new residence.  I see myself enjoying many wonderful times with her.  Sophie, Joan and I went to the Bistro and sipped our Lattes while sharing many fun stories.  Once home, I took Max out for his neighbourhood walk and anticipated my evening attendance at the Katie Ohe retrospective at the Esker Foundation.  Overall, it was a beautiful day.

To the Mouse

On Turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November 1785

Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a pannic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi’ bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee,
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!

I’m truly sorry man’s dominion,
Has broken nature’s social union,
An’ justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An’ fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
‘S a sma’ request;
I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,
An’ never miss’t!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!
An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,
O’ foggage green!
An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,
Baith snell an’ keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,
An’ weary winter comin fast,
An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell-
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro’ thy cell.

Thy wee bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter’s sleety dribble,
An’ cranreuch cauld!

But, Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!

Still thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me
The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e’e.
On prospects drear!
An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,
I guess an’ fear!

Translation:

Little, cunning, cowering, timorous beast,
Oh, what a panic is in your breast!
You need not start away so hasty
With bickering prattle!
I would be loath to run and chase you,
With murdering paddle!

I’m truly sorry man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
And justifies that ill opinion
Which makes you startle
At me, your poor, earth-born companion
And fellow mortal!

I doubt not, sometimes, that you may steal;
What then? Poor beast, you must live!
An odd ear in twenty-four sheaves
Is a small request;
I will get a blessing with what is left,
And never miss it.

Your small house, too, in ruin!
Its feeble walls the winds are scattering!
And nothing now, to build a new one,
Of coarse green foliage!
And bleak December’s winds ensuing,
Both bitter and piercing!

You saw the fields laid bare and empty,
And weary winter coming fast,
And cozy here, beneath the blast,
You thought to dwell,
Till crash! The cruel plough passed
Out through your cell.

That small heap of leaves and stubble,
Has cost you many a weary nibble!
Now you are turned out, for all your trouble,
Without house or holding,
To endure the winter’s sleety dribble,
And hoar-frost cold.

But Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!

Still you are blessed, compared with me!
The present only touches you:
But oh! I backward cast my eye,
On prospects dreary!
And forward, though I cannot see,
I guess and fear!