Ahoy Hoy friends and loved ones,

We hope this message finds you well. We are in the middle of our western Canada tour, kicking it off last night in the lovely city of Saskatoon. That was our first time time playing a show in the prairie hotbed, and we had a lovely time. Our house-hosts Dean (who played guitar on our record and joined us for the set last night, melting face after face with his tasteful mastery of the instrument) and his wife Shauna were exceptionally kind and gracious and we couldn’t have asked for a better start as we head into the unchartered waters that lay ahead.

And by unchartered waters, I mean unchartered frozen waters. It’s snowing. Looks like we got out of Saskatoon and into Edmonton at the perfect time, as Sasky is expecting 50 centimeters (wtf!!!???) of the white stuff this weekend. In April??? Late April???? Yes. And Alberta is seeing the start of it right now. That’s spring in the prairies for you. Luckily our rental car got upgraded to a rental mini-van. Sure, they scoffed at us as we rolled through the neighborhood in “the complete antithesis of what it is to be a rock star, all rolled up into an automobile,” but you just can’t put a dollar amount on that traction control system when you’re cruising the highway in a blizzard. Eat your heart out Toyota Yaris!!! Until you offer us a fat tour sponsorship, we’re stickin’ with our Pontiac minivan with my guitar strapped into the rear facing car seat in the back.

Met some very cool people in Sasky last night. Most notably was a gentleman who spent a few years living as a monk in a Buddhist temple in Nepal. He eventually left and came to live his life back in Canada with his wife. Then a few years back, she died suddenly. He was living in BC and on a friends wall, he saw a beautiful picture of a city and asked his friend where the picture was taken. “That’s Saskatoon,” says his friend. “Really?” he replies, “I’m going to go there.” And with that, he packs up and heads east. He always wanted to be a musician and write songs, but never had. Being in his fifties, he thought it the perfect time to learn. So he’s learning to play the guitar because he feels it will give him a deeper connection to the harmony of the universe, and ultimately bring him closer to God. And he wasn’t high, he really means it.

Deep, hey? I guess that’s really what music is about, when you boil it right down to it’s essence: connection, being part of something, you know?. His story hit me in the gut, so I thought I’d pass it on.

So, we’re in Edmonton now, bracing for the storm. Can’t wait to see some of you peeps at the upcoming shows. We’ll try to check in here a couple more times over the next weeks. Keep it real out there, homies.

M@

Our song “Still Beautiful” has been featured in the 2008 fundraising video for the Kids Cancer Cares Foundation of Alberta. The KCCFA is a really amazing organization devoted to helping and supporting families who are fighting childhood cancer. We are very happy and honored to be a part of their work. Please check out their website and find out more about what they do: www.kidscancercare.ab.ca.
You can watch the video here

Some more press, this time it’s an interview in the Langara Voice, in Vancouver. Check it out here or read it with the other reviews on the Music page.

So the other night, Leila and I ventured down to the arena to see Bruce Springsteen in concert for the first time in our lives. I was excited. For a singer songwriter who spent his formative years in his bedroom, jumping on the bed and playing along to the entire “Born in the USA” album on a squash racquet, this felt a little like my pilgrimage to Mecca.

We suited up, hopped a cab and found our seats beside the stage, second level, one row off the rail. Awesome. Lights go down, screams go up, and Bruce and the old E-Street gang hit the stage with “Atlantic City.” The Boss is the shit. The guy’s 50 something now and can rock as hard as anyone I’ve seen. That’s why he’s The Boss.

All is going well. A few songs go by, having a great time. Suddenly, I hear something behind me, someone calling to me. I can’t quite figure out what’s going on, so I turn around. Some meathead four rows back is screaming at us: “Sit Down!!! Sit Down!!!”
“What???? Are you serious????” I scream back.
“Sit Down!!!!” The guy is upset.
“Stand up!!” I yell.” You’re at a freaking Springsteen concert! What the hell are you thinking? Are you serious???”
And that’s when I notice that everyone else in our ENTIRE section, aside from three girls directly behind us, are sitting down! I was shocked and amazed.
“Yeah, sit down” someone else yells. “Yeah” another one.
I turn to Leila completely shaken. We were surrounded by the biggest losers on the planet. I looked down at Bruce on stage, screaming his lungs out to “Lonesome Day” and I feel awful.
Everything rushes through my mind: Should I sit down? Am I ruining the show for these people? Have I broken some kind of code for Springsteen concerts where everyone must sit down? If I turn around and tell that meathead to go F himself, do I end up getting kicked out? Is there a more zen way to deal with this? Could I take this meathead in a fight if I have to? Do I even know how to fight?
I don’t sit down. I keep dancing. But the next song is a slow one, and I think, okay, I’ll sit down for this one.
So I take my seat, and as I’m sitting there, listening to the people behind me clap at my subservience, I start getting really antsy. This is an important moment, I think to myself. I can’t live my life this way. I can’t sit down for this guy. For any of these people. These people who only want to take, and can’t find the energy to send some love back. I can’t bend to The man like that. The Man sucks! If Bruce were to look up here right now and see me sitting down, he would not approve.
So I did what any self respecting foot soldier of the revolution would do: I stood up. I stood and I watched that show from my feet. I paid for that seat, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to use it!!! Leila joined me, and we danced our asses off in joy and in protest.
And when Springsteen threw his hands in the air for everyone to Get Up, I turned around, pointed at the meathead, and I threw my hands in the air with a smile from ear to ear.
By the end of the show, everyone was on their feet. I knew they’d come around.
But that was a definitive moment in my life. You can’t sit down for the revolution. You got to stand up, even when everyone else is sitting. You got to be strong on your feet, own your space, and sometimes you gotta piss people off if you know you’re right. I think the boss would have approved. As he played his final song of the night, I’m pretty sure I saw him look up and wink at me. I winked back. It was a moment. We know what’s going on. We know.

m@

P.S. It did occur to me that the meathead or his wife had a disability and couldn’t stand up, but I checked. That wasn’t the case. They were healthy. Otherwise I would have probably felt really bad.