Music is Airborne at the Stratford Music Festival

If you’re planning on heading to Ontario this summer for the Stratford Music Festival, you’ll be treated to a unique performance that comes from the sky. The music festival is introducing what they call The Sky Orchestra, which consists of several hot air balloons, each with a speaker attached, that float through the sky over Stratford and delight the crowds with music and readings from A Midsummers Nights’ Dream.

The obvious benefit of this type of music performance is that you don’t have to crank your neck and sit on someone’s shoulders in order to see the stage, but the drawback is that you will have to get up early — the performance starts at the ghastly hour of 7am, presumably to lull festival-goers out of their slumber with the soothing sounds of the symphony.

The Sky Orchestra happens this Saturday, August 11th, in Stratford.

Thanks to Marilyn at Intelligent Traveler for the tip!

What to do When Your Flight is Delayed

Flight delays are making headlines these days. If you’re traveling, chances are you’ll arrive at the airport 2 hours ahead of your flight like you’ve been told to do, only to find out you’ve got to wait even longer.

So, what to do if you’re delayed? Me, I head to the bar with People magazine and maybe an Oprah’s Book Club book. Traveling, and that includes flying, is my relaxing time, so I indulge with celebrity magazines and an easy read. Sometimes I walk the airport, trying to fit in some exercise before a long flight, or stretch out somewhere and take a snooze.

But according to a report from msnbc.com, there’s now more to airports than Hudson News, sports bars, and duty-free shops. Listening to live music tops the list of activities, with several airports offering up to four (four!) stages. Other airports are opening galleries (called “artports”) where travelers can peruse fine art away from the crowds. Finally, several airports are touting their proximity to outdoor amenities including hiking and biking trails, while El Paso International Airport recently opened its own golf course.

If air travel continues in this manner, I just might be tempted to throw down my celebrity gossip and arrive 4 hours before my flight to enjoy the finer sides of culture.

Band on the Run: Normal in Normal, Illinois



The musical traveller, Troubadour. Road Rat. Whatever you want to call it, this blog will hold the stories that take place when travelling musicians are not on stage. What happens between the shows? What happens behind the scenes?
Ember Swift, Canadian musician and touring performer, will be keeping us up-to-date on what it’s like to tour a band throughout North America. Having just arrived back from Beijing where she spent three months (check out her “Canadian in Beijing” series), she offers a musician’s perspective on road life. Enjoy!

Normal, Illinois is blessed with a conversational name. I’m sure that every resident has heard this question more than once: “why is this town called ‘Normal’?” I, of course, had to ask also, but I consistently asked people who were also visitors like me. I got several shrugged shoulders, some snickers at the irony and one set of rolled eyes before I got any kind of real answer.

You see, we were in Normal, Illinois for the National Women’s Music Festival. This festival has been going strong for over thirty years and traditionally is a gathering place for women who are not considered “normal” by the status quo: strong women, independent women, bisexual women, lesbians, etc. I’m talking messing with gender roles here.

You get my point. Of all places to bring a women’s festival, I think this is the town. How to normalize non-traditional choices, identities, behaviour? Bring the gathering to a town called Normal and think nothing of it.

Just act normal.The town of Normal is relatively small with only about 50,000 inhabitants. It is called “Normal” because this was the site of a major teacher’s college, or “normal school” as such a school was called a hundred and fifty years ago. The original teacher-training school that became the town’s namesake was Illinois State Normal University, which later evolved into the general four-year university it is now and dropped the “Normal” from its name: Illinois State University. (source)

We arrived by plane into the little airport in Bloomington, Indiana (Normal and Bloomington are like “twin cities”) and, like many travel experiences via United Airlines or American Airlines (this was the latter), I received only one of my two checked bags. Thankfully, the one I received was my guitar and so I still had the means to do my job. . .

just no clean underwear or toothbrush.

Exhausted and needing a nap before the gig, I piled into the van that picked us up and lay horizontal on the bench seat as we drove the full fifteen minutes across the state line into normalcy. When I finally sat up, the van was parked outside of a university dorm where all of the attendees and the performers were being accommodated. Here we were at the famous Illinois State University and most of the students were gone for the summer.


(For those of you who have followed my writing, I just spent three months in Beijing living in a dorm room at a university there. Now that I’m back on the road with my band, I was prepared [excited?] for a hotel situation. Funny how the minute you imagine going up in the world, the world reminds you of what level you’re meant to be at.)

I hauled myself and my guitar up to the 7th floor via the clunking elevator that smelled suspiciously like sweaty gym socks, along with Lyndell Montgomery, my fellow band member who had just travelled in with me. Lyndell was still gratefully chatting with the festival rep who picked us up and who was escorting us to our dorm room. In fact, Lyndell had been carrying on a cheery conversation with her during the whole drive back. I had become monosyllabic due to lack of sleep and she was filling in the social gap extremely well. I made a mental note to thank her for that once I woke up.

We lumbered down the dark hall of the seventh floor and we were greeted by sweet notes taped to the door from our drummer (Cheryl Reid) and our two beautiful crew members (Desdemona Burgin and Julie Turner, photographer and stagehand, respectively) who had already arrived the day before. A friend greeted us in the hallway with hugs and love (and two shiny apples to snack on!) and she offered to help me find whatever I was missing from my undelivered luggage. I smiled my gratitude weakly but sincerely and everyone ushered me and my weary eyes towards the bed inside my dorm room. I must have looked terrible because there were several concerned faces bent on getting me to sleep!

When I woke three hours later, there was a toothbrush, clean underwear (brand new from the DITC vendor in the craft area) and a new t-shirt (from the same vendor) waiting for me to put on before we had to file down towards dinner and our performance. Not only did they want me to sleep, but they wanted me to smell better too! Can’t blame ’em!

I was so touched. Thank you.

The concert went well. We had two excellent guests join us on stage: Trina Hamlin on harmonica (she’s AMAZING) and Zoe Lewis (who does a killer fake trumpet sound). Both musicians expertly filled in some melodic holes for us in two of our songs. Both were a joy to share the stage with.

After the concert, we returned to the dorm and a huge pile of the festival performers all had a serious game of ping pong together. In fact, this was a full-out tournament that included six simultaneous balls in the air, four players on each side (two front players with paddles and two back “court” players to catch the stray balls using rolled up cardboard or other paddle replacements). There were mountains of screams cascading with laughter.

Scenic despite the scenery.

The concrete walls and fluorescent lighting of the basement recreation room in this dorm building had never seen such sunshine. We were recreating the space with every flying ping pong ball and yelp of fun.

Here we were on the grounds of the school that started the town – the original “normal” school. I love that this location (not just the town!) was the site of this year’s National Women’s Music festival. A place of learning and teaching hosting an event that offers the same: workshops and performances by women who have strong voices, who reach outside of traditional roles and prescribed behaviour and seek new ways to express, to be, to live.

The National Women’s Music Festival is a great experience, for all. Men can attend the musical performances as well; it is not an exclusive event. That’s what makes it revolutionary, I feel. This is what separates it from other women’s festivals and elevates it, for me, regardless of having to sleep on a campus for one more night this summer.

I eventually did get my luggage, just before pulling out of town the following day with our whole crew piled into my drummer’s van. We drove the full ten hours back to Canada sharing lively stories from the past three months of everyone’s separate adventures. It was great to be reunited again.

Back on the road.

Celebrating women’s music and women’s issues by simply being us — being normal.

In Normal, Illinois.

(Group shot above from left to right, back row: Martin Locke, Tret Fure / second row: Jane Weldon, Lyndell Montgomery, Me, Desdemona Burgin, Trina Hamlin, Julie Turner, Cheryl Red / laying on top: Jamie Anderson.)

Band on the Run: “Our Way Home” to Beautiful British Columbia


The musical traveller, Troubadour. Road Rat. Whatever you want to call it, this blog will hold the stories that take place when travelling musicians are not on stage. What happens between the shows? What happens behind the scenes?
Ember Swift, Canadian musician and touring performer, will be keeping us up-to-date on what it’s like to tour a band throughout North America. Having just arrived back from Beijing where she spent three months (check out her “Canadian in Beijing” series), she offers a musician’s perspective on road life. Enjoy!

Interior British Columbia is stunning.

I didn’t need to go there to remember that, but of course beauty strikes us when we see it and we’re forced into memory with every glance. And, I’m not complaining. Each glance brings a quick breath in and a gracious smile.

We used to tour across Canada every summer which gave us the chance to be in British Columbia in July or August annually. In the past few years, however, we have done fewer cross-Canada road trips and have opted to fly to destinations more regularly. If nothing else, it’s better for the lifeline of the vans that we drive! And also, I think yearly cross-Canada touring for six years consecutively is deserving of a medal.

And a break.

So, when we arrived in Castlegar, BC in July in the middle of the afternoon and stepped out of the little airplane to the lush green, low mountains, churning river, waterfalls… well, I was reminded of British Columbia’s beauty and grateful to see it again.

We were in Castlegar for a total of eight short hours. It was too brief, but full to the brim with amazing inspiration before we had to roll out of there in a rental car bound for Vancouver in order to make our morning flight. In those eight hours, I met amazing people and took part in a brilliant event called “The 2nd Annual Our Way Home Peace Event & Reunion.”

This region of British Columbia is where the Doukhbor communities are. This is a Russian Christian sect who left Russia en masse in 1899. A huge portion of this group settled in the Castlegar (and surrounding regions) shortly thereafter. They chose Canada “for its isolation, peacefulness and the fact that the Canadian government welcomed them” (according to Wikipedia). Today, it is estimated that 30,000 Doukhobors live in Canada while another 30,000 live in Russia. The largest and most active Doukhobor organization, however, is here in Canada.

Every place has such unique stories.

I had heard about this religious group, but never met anyone who was Doukhobor. The man we met almost immediately and whose house we were to use as a resting pad (i.e. nap stop) spoke to us in English with a very evident Russian accent although he has lived in Canada his whole life. He grew up in the Doukhobor community, though, which was more isolated than many communities and now lives in a private home just a few kilometres from the event. He is currently grey-haired and his face is lined with stories and laughter.

He sat in the front seat of our vehicle to direct us to his home. He chatted easily, telling us about the region and its history. Later, he also sang in the Doukhobor Men’s Choir who started the evening entertainment. Apparently, prayer meetings for this group were dominated by the singing of a cappella psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. So, singing is very traditional to the Doukhobors. Their performance filled the hall with harmony in both Russian and English. I closed my eyes and just listened.

A perfect start to a perfect evening.

And speaking of the hall: it is called the Brilliant Cultural Centre. The event was brilliant and so, too, was the space. Simple and large, and filled with open smiles on the faces of all those in attendance.

After hearing the choir and before hearing some of the speakers, I took a walk outside and I was greeted by the Arlington Northwest Memorial, a dramatic representation of the costs of war consisting of grave markers representing the more than 3,000 U.S. service men and women killed in the Iraq war. This display is sponsored by the Veterans for Peace Northwest chapter (Washington state) and is amazing to take in with your eyes or your lens. There was also a section for Canadian deaths, which was striking. I walked around the whole site, reading the names of the markers I could see, feeling acutely aware of death despite its not being a real cemetery.

Effective.

I felt solemn when I came back into the hall. I quietly found a spot and sat down to take in the words of Arun Gandhi, MK Ghandi’s grandson. The audience gave him a standing ovation when he took to the podium and he gestured for us to sit with a soft smile. He was gentle (as I imagined his grandfather must have been,) but he stood there solidly and delivered a short but simple speech about non-violence and forgiveness. I sat back and took it all in the way one absorbs a slow sunset from a country porch on a late summer’s evening.

The artists and speakers were all incredibly diverse and articulate. One of my heroes, Holly Near, was in attendance and we greeted each other with a big, warm hug and welcoming eyes. She has cut off her signature hair since I saw her last and looks as radiant as ever – perhaps even more so. She was there with Pat Humphries and Sandy Opatow, who sang beautiful back-up harmonies with her during a brief snippet (read: tease) of her performance, which was to be held the next day. I am glad I saw what I saw, though, as she always inspires me and of course I wasn’t going to be there the following day to smile at her from the audience.

Our performance took place shortly thereafter and went well. This was my first show with Lyndell Montgomery since March. It was a joy to hear her music again alongside of mine. The audience welcomed us with open ears. Even though we had to head off quickly when the performance was over, I was touched by the warmth that was offered us and the kindnesses we were offered with every interaction.

Backstage, to one of the women making food for the participants (delicious, organic, vegan food for us – thank you!) and after she offered me something to drink, I said: “Thanks so much. That’s so kind.” She looked me a moment and then turned her head to one side with a coy grin and said: “Everyone’s kind here, sweetie.” I laughed.

She’s right.

We pulled away from the Our Way Home Peace Event & Reunion waving goodbyes and balancing wrapped-up road food on our laps. I felt like I had just left my family’s house after a big family meal.

And so we drove into the sunrise.

The long drive was fuelled by the sparks of inspiration and empowerment that were flying around this event and were in all of these interactions. And, I know that these sparks will yield yet more fire for the ‘good fight,’ the belief that this world will find peace, that this environment will survive…

That the beauty will remain.

To stun us every time.

Certainly.

Band on the Run: A Roadie Without The Heavy Lifting


Alright, this is the first post of a new series entitled “Band on the Run,” (as you can see above.) This is a blog about travelling on the road as a musician here in North America. It’s about what we see and where we’ve been – the stories that go along with those journeys and the images to accompany them. It’ll be like you’re the roadie that gets to witness what happens behind the scenes without having to carry any heavy equipment.

Lucky.

(I mean, I’m the bandleader and I don’t even get out of carrying the heavy stuff!)

Specifically, I’m a Canadian musician with a Canadian band who performs more than half of my shows south of the border. And yes, I have provincial license plates on my van and work permits for the U.S.of A. for all of my band members, so I’m down on American soil legally, don’t worry!)

We are on the road A LOT, which sometimes means that we’re home less than we’re away. In fact, at one point just a few years ago, we peaked at 200 days on the road during the year. I am happy to report that we’ve calmed down slightly and probably are out only half the year now. That’s slightly healthier all around, for everyone.

The downside of this life is the fact that we’re travel-tired most of the time and we spend copious amounts of time in moving vehicles, most notably our van (or occasional rental vans if there’s a flight involved.) Sometimes we joke that we’re professional drivers who moonlight as musicians.

Sometimes it feels like that.

The upside of this life is that we get to make music for different audiences sometimes four and five times a week. Music is what we love to do the most in this world. Music is the drug of choice for this band; it’s the art; it’s the heart; it’s the fuel. Without it, why would we do this to our bodies? Why would we sit in a van for ten hours in a row, for example?

Honestly, music has taken me far and continues to pull me farther still. I am tempted by its long distance promises and its moments of brilliance on foreign stages, no matter what it takes to get to them. (So tempted that I sometimes make bad touring decisions, but I’ll leave that for the blog as they happen…)

Music is my nightlight. It’s the good dream. It’s consistent.

Stylistically, it’s a rather mixed-up folk-jazz-funk-pop-world combo (check out samples here). It’s lyrically-driven music and the show is as much about what’s being said in the songs themselves as it is about what’s being said between the songs. I sometimes write about topics that people don’t want to discuss. I also write about love and beautiful summer days and funny situations worth laughing at. All in all, the music has listeners and that’s all that matters.

After ten releases (counting the 2005 documentary-stye DVD, of course), five vans (we’re on our fifth now), uncountable tours across various parts of Canada and the U.S., eight trips to Australia, two tours to New Caledonia (link to where that country is, as it’s little known!), and one solo trip to China, the adventure continues.

We’re not famous, but we’re well-known in some circles. We have fans – listeners and supporters and friends – and we continue to sell albums. We continue to perform live. People continue to buy tickets to hear those shows.

Life is good.

We’re independent, too, which is important. These tours are not being funded by big label tour support or sponsorship dollars or product placement. We aspire to sustainability and this means we ride waves of occasional prosperity and occasional poverty. In the midst of it all, we find the balance of a living and breathing career that has careened along the corners of mountain passes for over a decade now.

No complaints.

I don’t think it’s poised to stop anytime soon. It always changes shape a little as time loops around us, but the wheels keep turning on these travelling vehicles and we keep finding ourselves in them along with gear and contracts and passports and a well-calculated number of clean underwear tucked away in our suitcases and stashed around guitars and amps and on top of boxes of CDs to stop that incessant rattling of plastic against plastic.

It’s not all glamorous, but what is really?

Behind the scenes is just behind the scenes. It’s my job to strip the scene for you, I suppose. It’s my job to bare all.

(But it’s not that kind of show, so get your mind outta that sticky trench now!)

Now if you do enjoy these stories and we end up in your town all of a sudden, we won’t deny you the opportunity to lift some heavy stuff if you show up early to help us load in or you stay long after the rest of the audience has gone home until we’re finally loading out.

In fact, temporary roadies are the BEST.

They have enough strength to lift the bass amp…

And that same strength didn’t require a meal buy-out.

Love it.

[All photos except the van shot by Desdemona Burgin, a fantastic friend and photographer]