Shedding

Remember Richard Dreyfuss' character in the movie Close Encounters? He couldn't stop creating sculptures of that strange mountain, in whatever material he had at hand - from mashed potatoes to backyard mud.

I've been similarly obsessed about a shed.

So, I've been building a shed out back. A real one. You might say I've been shedding. My skin and all. Tough sledding, this shedding, at times, but I kept at it. I'm almost done.

It looks beautiful. It is small, quaint, rustic, faintly zen in the lines of the roof, full of tools already and resplendent with mis-matched French doors to let in the light of day. It is a home for my spirit, maybe. Who knew my spirit could be so small and so sawdusty as to be lodged in a shed? Everyone but me, probably. But I'm glad to know it now, and humbled by the fact.

If you want me I'll be out back, busy as a beaver by the light of a kerosene lantern, saying my rough prayers to Jesus, the only god who ever was a carpenter. I hope he'll take pity on a sinner like me, an odd-job man with a blue thumb and a tradesman's tongue.

I swear I'm doing my level best.

Brief Update!

The last couple of entries have been super-long, in part to make up for me having neglected the diary quite a bit lately. So this one will be short.

I spent Monday evening in producer Mike Nunan's basement studio, finalizing Carpenter's Gothic, which will be released in early fall, and giving Mighty Grace a first listen. I'm really pleased. Carpenter's Gothic is honest, tough and a little bit mean, quite a departure from Evergreen but not out of step, in my opinion. Mike calls it ballsy. Mighty Grace, on the other hand, is the widest musical range I've covered, yet it also seems to stay within theme really well. And because this is the first project where Mike has been involved from day one, the sound is truly extraordinary. I feel that I'm finally getting this live CD thing right, and working with Mike the producer and Scott the drummer has made it possible.

In other news, I put a good 12 hours work into my deck and shed over the weekend. I'm going to add digital photos at some point soon; people must be thinking I'm constructing the Taj Mahal. But the truth is, the more you get into the little details, the longer stuff takes. So the revamping I've done this spring to get the shed built and the benches re-configured and the front of the deck finished and the fence re-boarded and my picnic table turned into wainscotting and then re-built has all taken almost as much time as building the deck did in the first place.

I'd say something philosophical about that, but can't think of a phrase right now. The best addition I made this weekend was a 14-inch by 2-inch by 8 foot barnboard plank, which is now sitting across two of my grandfather's old nail kegs and supporting a bunch of potted plants at the edge of the deck. My theme of gradual and beautiful organic decay has crept out of my artwork and into my yard.

24-Hour Vacation: Part One

Okay, so after 7 1/2 years in Toronto I finally went totally insane and just had to get out. Usually, despite my rural roots and inherent passion for nature, I handle the Big Smoke just fine, and have never felt desperate to leave. That might be partly because I'm often on the road anyway, but whatever it is, I usually don't go nuts here.

Last Saturday morning, though, I was putting still more finishing touches on my deck, re-configuring the benches so I could see my 15 x 32 foot yard, and I just about lost it. It was nine million degrees, and I was overtired, and overworked, and undercaffinated, and by 2 PM I was a sweaty lunatic.Thank God, an escape route was open! I packed all my tools and my beater guitar into my trusty 1992 Ford Escort hatchback (the car I call "The Best Small Truck in its Class") and hit the road.

One Tim Horton's coffee and 2 hours later, I was in Orillia, enjoying a backstage pass to Mariposa on a Saturday night.It might take me a couple of entries to describe the event properly, but for me the great thing was just feeling like I belonged there. My CD had come out to late to get into proper contention for the Festival this year. And although I had a great audience response at the Last Chance audition, I didn't get the gig that way either. That's okay by me- I had a great time auditioning and met some great people, and I never treat an audition as anything other than a chance to play my songs. But I was offered a VIP pass for my trouble, and am I ever glad I claimed it.

There I was, backstage, hobnobbing with all kinds of musicians whom I know and really respect like Dan Kershaw, ,Kristin Sweetland, Suzie Vinnick, Bob Snider, Jason Fowler, plus Mariposa members, all of whom warmly welcomed me there. Not only that, but numerous people who had voted at the Last Chance as audience members seemed surprised and disappointed that I wasn't playing, as they felt I had done a good job and had they had voted for me. This actually happened several times, independently.

I'm sharing it here because it was an un-looked-for bonus for me. It's so easy to get disappointed when you're putting yourself out there on stage all the time, and the results don't always show. Yet at times you make an impression without even knowing it, and when that comes back to you it's really rewarding.

Anyway, that was over and above quaffing brews to the tunes of Mary de Keyzer & Melody Ranch in the beer tent, hanging out at the Shannon Guitars tent with Larry Shannon, who hand-made my stage guitar, and listening to my Parry Sound soul-sister Katherine Wheatley on the big stage with Wendell Ferguson as the breeze rolled through the willows off Lake Couchiching.

And of course Bruce Cockburn was great as the headliner, but even better was trading tunes in the bar of the Sundial Hotel after the concert wrapped up. The night was long. The music was great. The beer was cool. The laughter was loud. The sky was clear. And the sun, when it rose, was resplendent. A reminder that after every night, a new day is born.

I'm just sayin', is all...

I had a successful "reunion" concert with Scott Vernon on drums last night. He was sharp, as usual, and it was great to play together again after a few weeks apart. We played a mix of tunes from Evergreen, the impending Carpenter's Gothic, and the recently recorded Mighty Grace. A good time was had by all, I guess, et cetera.But what I'm really thinking about today is the Ben Harper and Jack Johnson concert I took in on Monday.

Notwithstanding the hour and twenty minutes it took to get into the Molson Ampitheatre, it really was a tremendous show. Carpentry, in fact- by which I mean, music made by building simple frames of words and melodies on top of a solid rythmic foundation, without unnecessary complexity but with real concern for the beauty of the space that is created by the song. As in a barn, or a church. Or a shed for that matter.

The thing that interests me about these two musicians -and about David Gray, too- is that while they get very little airplay, and while they're often considered "roots" musicians after a fashion, they pack stadiums. And their fans are 18-40 years old. The music is honest. There's no sell-out involved. And they rock.I'm just sayin', is all...

Turning things upside-down

Did I mention that my shed is pretty much complete? I know everyone has been anxious for news about that... Actually now that I think about it, I still need to put down a few more floorboards, tack on some skirting boards around the bottom, and incidentally put some roofing on. I priced cedar shingles... hah! If you ever want an indicator of the health, or lack thereof, of Canada's forests, just try to buy some cedar. $120 to roof a 4 x 8 shed! So now I'm looking for alternatives. Before anyone jumps in with suggestions, I've already rejected rolled roofing, asphalt shingles, tin cans pounded flat, and thatch. Current thinking: shiplap pine.

Meanwhile, for those in search of something symbolic here, it's worth noting that when you start building a shed off your deck, the whole deck can end up changing. Because my backyard is only 15 by 35 feet or so, everything is interdependent. Putting up a shed has meant changing the view. Changing the view means the benches I carefully built last spring are in the way. Moving them meant taking everything apart, then putting it back together upside down (don't ask), then ripping out the staircase, rethinking the lumber storage alley at the side of my house, considering new designs for a picnic table... the universe itself is being turned upside down, all because of my bike shed. Sorry for any inconvenience.

If I were a carpenter

There is really nothing in the world like carpentry. I mean putting boards together with nails to make structures. I use this as a metaphor for songwriting all the time, but right now I really just mean carpentry in the true sense of the word. Lumber, nails, and a plan, at least a vague one. You just start putting those things together, and you instantly feel great.

I've been building a bicycle shed as an annex to my back deck. A simple structure but I insisted on making it slightly Zen, sizing up the space really carefully, and modifying the approach as I went along to make it sit just right in the tiny landscape of my backyard. So now, as it nears completion, it's more than a rudimentary lean-to shelter. It's a work of craft, built in response to a basic need. But as it grows, and I interact with it, and it forms a relationship with the space around it... it somehow becomes a thing of beauty.

I really should spend more time building sheds.