autumn, 2002
i've been back from the road for four months or so now, but it still sometimes feels strangely like days, even now.
august was nomadic, mostly in an effort to swim in lakes and rivers for as long as possible, after a summer crammed with canadian floats and plunges, salt and fresh. and that summer seemed to stretch way past its due into autumn, just like me, reticent to give it up.
september was spent working with my friend shannon cooney on her new solo dance piece, and revisiting a collaboration with carol ann weaver, dorothy livesay and di brandt called awakenings. i spent time in new york in october, and will be heading back down there to perform at BAM with meredith monk in december. in the midst of all of that stuff, life moseys on, and i scrape by.
and now that the wind's rolled down the hill from the north - straight into my room - and they've changed the clocks to winter light, i'm ready for a new season. fall's when i miss the old hometown the most - the gatineau tapestry in all its glory, operatic trees singing red and gold against the sharp blue. and then it will be winter
but let me tell you a little about the last chapter before we leave the summer behind once and for all. the tour was fantastic, in many ways. really hard but fantastic.
there was the epic journey itself: from landlocked ontario along the saints lawrence and john. across to the craggy newfoundland shore and back again. then clear across lakes and forests and prairies and mountains. and beyond past the western coast to a couple of islands in the pacific. in the old stalwart, jenny, who rolled the whole way, save sitting still for eight ferry rides.
there was justin and josh and nick and andrew - all of whom inspired and surprised me countless times, on stage and off.
and there was the music: i have rarely enjoyed playing music in the moment with a bunch of other musicians so much. on the good nights, of which there were lots (all different), the freedom that's borne out of trust carried us along. fear and loathing even had their good moments. this was a very particular collection of people - we challenged and inspired each other's sense of adventure out there. five great big hearts and all that wide open musicalness made it easy and scary and bold and sweet and fun. i think we even managed to make some beautiful music.
it was tough financially - i'm still making up for that.
and it was quite the party too - i guess i'm still making up for that as well...
and so, as it turns out, the sweetest tour turned out to be justin's and my swan song. at the end of it all, we folded up the project like an old blanket - loved and worn, with some good stories left over, and a couple of records we're really proud of. we made music with an amazing array of people. we enjoyed some critical success, and got to know a great batch of loyal fans who helped it all make some sense... to put the old blanket away for good is kind of sad, and inspires a vague sense of trepidation about the future, but it also leaves me feeling excited, curious and hopeful.
and now a new chapter begins. i'm starting to hear how the next batch of music might go, but it's early days yet.
so, i'll try to keep you posted about what's up, and what's coming up. i'll try to say a few words from time to time. i'll even try to let you in on new music as it emerges... but that might take a while.
thanks for stopping by. please let me know what you think of whatever - the music, the site, the state of the world...
