What Sylvia Tyson said

Last night I went to the Estelle Klein tribute at Hugh's Room in Toronto. Estelle, who passed away recently, had been a lifelong supporter of folk, roots and acoustic music in Ontario, a founder of Mariposa, and a friend to musicians everywhere.

A stellar cast of performers and speakers -many of them winners of the Estelle Klein award for contributions to folk music - honoured Estelle's life and gifts in many marvellous ways, and it was a moving thing to be there.

One of the highlights was hearing Sylvia Tyson sing "You Were on My Mind." Such a brilliant song! The first she ever wrote, I believe, and it went on to sell a million copies and is now burned into the collective Canadian consciousness. I heard that song in my cradle, I swear. I challenge anyone to hear it and not sing along.

I took a moment to thank Ms. Tyson for the acceptance speech she had given a couple of weeks ago, when she received the Estelle Klein award herself at the Ontario Council of Folk Festivals conference in Guelph. That simple and profound speech moved me to tears, and I told her so.

What Ms. Tyson said should be required reading for every artist in this country. With a lifetime of commitment to music and to a better world behind her, she's earned the right to tell it like it is, and she does.

Click here to read a copy of the speech in Word format. You'll understand what I mean. Whatever you may think of the recent US election results, or the state of the world in general, know this: truth and beauty and freedom and love and all the music that expresses them are alive, and well, and on the rise.

The world will be a better place for it.

Northern inspiration

I love the city of Sudbury. As a kid growing up in Parry Sound, it was a big city "only" 99 miles north, and as such, a destination for shopping, restaurants, adventure, and incidentally, my first ever rock concert: Triumph in the Sudbury arena, on the Thunder 7 tour! I'm fond of the toughness of northern towns like this, with their gritty aura, their fading taverns, their haphazzard town planning, their odd juxtapositions of faded economic glory and new government money. I like the rocks, the trees, the trucks, the cold. I like the hockey feeling in the air. I like the cheap draft - $3.35 a pint - in weathered old watering holes like the Towne House Tavern. I like trains running through the middle of town. I like the northern Ontario accent, with its French and Native nuances. And I must admit, I like liking these things, knowing that not everyone does.

As of two weeks ago, though, I think a few more people are convinced. The Ontario Conference of Folk Festivals brought about 500 musicians, artistic directors, radio personalities, and miscelleneous other members of the Ontario roots music scene to "The Rock" to do business and play music for one righteous weekend. The music community is still abuzz with the warm feelings that were generated in this cold city, and none more so than me.

A lot of good things went on, from the official showcases and workshops to the impromptu late night jam sessions. Hands were shaken, cards were exchanged. Awards were handed out. New contacts were made and old ones renewed. Synergies were formed. Pints were lifted. One heck of a lot of songs were sung, and it just felt great. I imagine anyone who was there would say the same.

But for the record, here are my four personal highlights, in no particular order:
1) Performing with signer-songwriter James Jones for the Grade Sevens of Lansdowne Elementary School. I'm not into being overly political, but I must point out that the 45 minutes we spent amusing and bemusing them with our acoustic music was THE CLOSEST THING TO A MUSIC PROGRAM THEY HAVE EVER EXPERIENCED. We are doing our level best to create a society of uncreative I.T. drones, it appears. Musicians, take note: the children of your society need you like never before.

2) Watching the Manitoba ensemble Das Macht SHOW! play an impromptu concert in the Ramada Hotel elevators. Song finishes, everyone claps, the doors close and they disappear. 2 minutes later, they reappear, having played for the other floors along the way. The best part: the security guard, drawn by the noise, shows up - just a second too late to see what was going on. Confused by the gathered audience, he looks around, hops into the empty elevator, and disappears. Two minutes later, the doors open- and there is the band, playing yet another tune! Where the security guard wound up, no one knows to this day...

3) The Towne House Tavern. I can't tell you how many folkies confessed to me that they were intimidated or put off by this classic northern bar and concert venue. I'm sure they must have changed their minds by now, but let me state the case to be certain: yes, the place looks rough. So would you if you had been standing on the same corner in Sudbury for 50 or 60 years. Yes, they sell Northern Ale, not Fancy Urban Beer. (Which I also enjoy); Drink up, it's cheap, it's local, and it's made of good northern Ontario water. Yes, there are pickled eggs behind the bar. It's a cultural thing, trust me. You don't have to eat them, it's just good to know you can. Finally, if anyone remains unconvinced, I will simply point out that the graffiti in the men's washroom at the Towne House Tavern in Sudbury is the smartest, most diverse, and most interesting graffiti I have seen anywhere.

4) Driving south on Sunday afternoon. Even the sky didn't want the weekend to end; the sun seemed to take 3 hours to set; approximately the time it took to get from Sudbury to Barrie. And for much of that time I was driving on the new highway 400 through my old stompin' grounds in the Parry Sound area. It's one heck of a highway, for good and for ill, (I'll write a whole piece on that later), but the key thing in this instance was that it's opened up a whole lot of really beautiful bush that looked absolutely spectacular in the intense golden light of the late autumn sunset.

Those are my highlights. There weren't any low lights. The weekend was so magical, even the cold weather made me feel warm.