tim’s thought property

Yesterday evening at the Osborne Village Freehouse, Matt Epp played, from what I heard, a great show.
Earlier in February, we agreed that I would photograph this show, for it was to be one of the few before his tour with the Attics, come mid-March. With camera in hand, Cake mix-cd on the car stereo, I braved the un-plowed roads for an evening of music and pictures.
I ran in to many friends not seen in a while, even Chars and Carolyn, whom I’d seen earlier in the day. With many familiar faces around, Matt and his performance band set up and prepared to play their sets. Borrowing other local musicians such as Sky Onosson, and Jay Tooke on the bass and drums, respectively. Kristjanna Oleson was playing violin on nearly all the songs, and it added so much atmosphere to them.

Matt had many familiar faces to play to, but it wasn’t like it was necessary. His pressence is that of good-nature. His attitude works well with crowds.
He has been described as one influenced by Bob Dylan and Ron Sexsmith, Emmylou Harris and the Band. He has a strong sound, definitely with folk influence. But it’s more than that. He writes, I suppose, as many musicians do, about things that matter. And unlike a lot of musicians his age, Matt seems to be able to articulate his mind in song so clearly.
The band opened with Boy oughta be in New York, a fine selection of his work. In all the shows I’ve witnessed him perform, I’ve always seen it heartfelt. They played You’ll Find Me Alone, the title track from his debut album of the same name, and Kissing and Drinking Wine, also from the debut.

Interestingly enough, the denim jacket that he was sporting belonged to Willie Nelson. Matt related the story that Willie’s jacket was given to a friend, who in turn gave it to someone else who was a friend of Matt, [who subsequently lent it to Matt]. Amid the din of diners and drinkers, Matt peppered in some new songs he’d been writing. A personal ballad written for his grandfather, entitled Granpa Blue was one that I felt showed more of the depth Matt has taken in his writing. For God’s sake, Irene was a passionate plea to a cheating wife, another surprising development in style. Yet my favourite of his new material was the closer of the first set, Bad Deal; a song about a deal in Purgatory gone awry.
And that is where I took my leave, for I had to open at work this morning.
I missed the second set, but duty called and the memory card was full.
I enjoyed a great show that night, took my fair share of photos, too. And, I hope that some good will come out of the pictures. For the first time, I was unable to disappear as a photographer, and was painfully self-aware. It’s a feeling I’m not used to. But to improve my skills at live coverage, I will likely have to become more vulnerable than what I’m used to.

As I was cleaning my room yesterday, I found the issue of Uptown [magazine] that reviewed the Gogol Bordello concert that Tim and I missed. And, to my grudging dismay, it was just as I thought it would be. Here, is the article, as written by Jen Zoratti:

Eugene Hutz, the tall mustachioed frontman of the gypsy punk outfit Gogol Bordello, stepped onstage and surveyed his audience, a bizarre mix of mohawked punks, bohemian hippies and elderly Ukrainian immigrants.
“How ’bout a f***ing party?” Hutz screamed, and the band and audience almost instantly erupted into a moshing, dancing frenzy.
Hutz and Gogol Bordello may have started their bash an hour late (after blowing a trailer axle in Minnedosa), but when they finally took the stage they launched into a feverish, energized set. Kicking things off with the fiery Immigrant Punks, Hutz and his seven band mates gave an anarchic punk rock performance punctuated by frantic violins, chaotic accordion, driving bass and thunderous drums.
From the traditionally flavoured Sally to the ass-kicking Not a Crime, these New York City gypsies electrified an astounded audience with their musical chaos. The could-be classic Start Wearing Purple had everyone singing along and stomping their feet.
Slicked with sweat and stripped from the waist up, the lithe and wiry Hutz was a madman, riding his mic and wildly thrashing on the stage. Washboards and pails filled with chains doubled both as props and instruments for the group’s two female members. Perched on top of the amps and bursting with insatiable energy, Hutz continually flirted with the very real possibility that he could fall into the audience.
This was the party of the year so far. And we’d expect nothing less from a man in a handlebar moustache who encourages us to think locally, f**k globally.

There you have it. A show that would have been something amazing to see.

It’s official:
I’m returning to Camp Assiniboia.
I’m returning as Summer Program Director. I thought it would make it easy for Responsibility to find me, so I painted a big target on my chest. But in all honesty, I’m returning to the grounds in a position of leadership to raise new leaders. After much thought, prayer and pondering, I had made the choice to accept this job.

I thought that last year would be my final summer serving, but then, I said the same thing the previous summer. It turns out that I have sold myself short too much, and only now am coming to realize that I am capable of far more than I know. The heavy weight of responsibility has often frightened me, and I have to admit that it still does. But I have a hope that this summer I can become a tool for GOD to use. I know that I have potential to lead, but I know that so much more can be done if GOD is the one doing it. So, I approach this summer with caution, but with a positive mindset. I know that it will ultimately be a good one.

This post is also known as show news.

In the month of April, and the rogue Gogol Bordello show that occurred in February, I had intended on a heavy list of shows to attend. It started with Metric coming to town, and having no one to go with. A co-worker had bought tickets and was talking about it, and he kindly spotted me the money on his credit card, and now, April 8, I will be seeing Metric at the Walker Theatre.
Then, before long, I caught wind of Sarah Harmer coming. April 5th, at Westminster United Church (I had no idea that the church was a venue), I’m going with Chars. So then this was all peachy, for me. Money up-front now, in February, shows in April, right? Well, as you know the GB show didn’t happen, but the reviews from all the papers say it was a night of excitement. Two out of three shows isn’t so bad, right?
Yet not long ago, two weeks, perhaps; word got out about Death Cab for Cutie and Franz Ferdinand coming to town. Naturally this would be a show not to miss. But, as it so happened, there was massive mis-communication on when tickets were on sale. Tim Penner signed up for the fan club to secure some advanced tickets, but they were gone in a flash. Other people from work were trying to get tickets with no success. Then it was said that the general sale would occur on Friday, 10:00am. Tim tried to get tickets, but was unsuccessful. Saturday’s Free Press newspaper reported this:

It was all over in less than a minute.
Tickets to the April 23 Franz Ferdinand/Death Cab for Cutie concert at the [Walker] Theatre were gone in less than 60 seconds yesterday, setting a new record for selling out the 1,600 seat venue….

A few things were stinging from this hard hit. First of all, the two bands on their, could sell out the Walker Theatre, so why were they booked there? Well, it turns out the country duo Brooks and Dunn had secured the MTS centre, the 15,000+ seat venue on the same evening. Now, I know that country music is still popular in this city, but I do find it difficult to see their show sell out; where these two other bands get to have a fraction of their audience, and a great deal more of them put off and upset.
I think after missing out on the tickets to the Vertigo tour last year, (U2 was playing Seattle twice and Vancouver once, in the span of a week, and I was living a stone’s throw away from both those shows. The whole leg of the tour was sold out in eight minutes, with the only tickets left given to the on-line scalpers, selling second tier tickets for $700) I had made a fierce vow to do all that I could to see the bands that I love. To have DCFC come to town, and do all this pre-show hopscotch only to have it all collapse, it was notably frustrating.
So now I say that yes, two out of three ain’t bad, but getting two out of four? That hurts just a little bit more.

Gypsy Punk.
How do you tell someone about about a genre that is so unique that it has to be heard to be defined?
“They’re a Ukrainian band, based out of New York City, and their music is described as Gypsy-Punk.”

Tim and I were planning on seeing Gogol Bordello last Friday, but it never happened.
Due to the lack of funds on both our parts, and the inability to secure tickets before the day of the show, we missed out on what may possibly have been one of the most memorable shows of the year. How do you figure that?
Well, this band is apparently known for it’s wild live performances, with generous amounts of energy and audience enjoyment. I can only imagine what might have happened, had Tim and I seen the show.

We would have been in awe of the moustache of Eugene Hutz, the lead singer and front man to the ensemble. I’m sure he would have impressed the audience with his accent and attitude, while being backed by his group of instrumentalists grinding out traditional Ukrainian-folk sounds mixed with up-tempo and energetic beats.
We would have stood back at first, as we warmed up to the mood and atmosphere. Then slowly, we would have found our way to the centre of the crowd to sing along to some of the few songs we knew, belting along with their song “Start Wearing Purple“. Then after a set that would likely garner an encore, we would clap and cheer and walk out of the West End stating firmly that it was “Money well spent” and “We’re so glad to have seen that show.”

Well, it didn’t happen.
I don’t know what did.
But I’m sure that the next time this band comes to town, I will be right on the ball with securing a ticket, so can report with some honesty and facts about how good, great or amazing their show may or may not be.