It's a full moon rising
over this town
i'm at the festival
in Owen Sound
and i can hear you calling
you're calling down the line
down by the great white pine
i took a bus to get here
rode highway 6 all day
looking out my window
farms and forests the whole way
sitting on a pier
sun setting over the bay
feel like a miss you
miss those words you say
it's full moon rising
over my head
and i been pining
for my own bed
i can hear you calling
you're calling down the line
down by the great white pine
the full moon rises
high in the sky
just sippin' on
canada dry and rye
still on the pier
skippin' stones
i'm so far from home
i feel all alone
full moon rising
over my head
the sun was shining
when i went to bed
now i'm just walking
walking down the line
towards the great white pine
PV
Monday, June 28, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
about a show
the bass pounding
through the concrete floor,
as the band plays,
it's last encore,
they take the last bow,
as we scream for more,
people brought together,
both rich and poor,
tonight it's about the music,
a break from our lives,
an escape from reality,
as a band of 8 musicians strive,
to recapture personality,
as we file out, both fast and slow,
and everyone is talking, about the show,
our ears still buzz,
our hearts are still thumping,
our minds are in sync,
our spirits jumping,
no one wants to go home,
so they'll go to a bar, t
hey'll drink and they'll talk,
and then they'll all walk,
and they'll make their way home,
long past dark,
through the streets they'll roam,
eventually they'll land on their doorstep,
with that familiar song in their head,
open the front door singing
and make their weary way to bed.
PV
through the concrete floor,
as the band plays,
it's last encore,
they take the last bow,
as we scream for more,
people brought together,
both rich and poor,
tonight it's about the music,
a break from our lives,
an escape from reality,
as a band of 8 musicians strive,
to recapture personality,
as we file out, both fast and slow,
and everyone is talking, about the show,
our ears still buzz,
our hearts are still thumping,
our minds are in sync,
our spirits jumping,
no one wants to go home,
so they'll go to a bar, t
hey'll drink and they'll talk,
and then they'll all walk,
and they'll make their way home,
long past dark,
through the streets they'll roam,
eventually they'll land on their doorstep,
with that familiar song in their head,
open the front door singing
and make their weary way to bed.
PV
Northern Town
I'll runaway
runaway in the morning
I'll runaway with you
we'll be gone before the sun is rising
faraway when the sky turns blue
These chains I wear
these shackles are a burden
I'm sick of draggng em' around
all day
we'll follow the railroad
I'll be be free
when the sun goes down
In that Northern Town
I'm alright, if you're alright darling
I'll be your man, if you want me too
because the clouds are gone
aint no use in whining
the sun is shining through
my clothes are dirty
my feet a' hurtin'
and i can hear the sound
of the 304
rolling into the station
this train is freedom bound
to that Northern Town
PV
runaway in the morning
I'll runaway with you
we'll be gone before the sun is rising
faraway when the sky turns blue
These chains I wear
these shackles are a burden
I'm sick of draggng em' around
all day
we'll follow the railroad
I'll be be free
when the sun goes down
In that Northern Town
I'm alright, if you're alright darling
I'll be your man, if you want me too
because the clouds are gone
aint no use in whining
the sun is shining through
my clothes are dirty
my feet a' hurtin'
and i can hear the sound
of the 304
rolling into the station
this train is freedom bound
to that Northern Town
PV
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Rambling
Gloriously Ghetto, Broke and beaten down, looks just like the alleys, that cut straight through this town.
Beautifully Broken, gritty and grimed up, graf all on the walls, does nothing to distrupt.
This; a kid's outlet
just another way to cope
a fag for doing art
sprays a bomb
it's dope
a bomb's a way to cope
an outlet,
a source
for a brand new hope
kid's grabbin' at straws
the last of the rope
weight of the ball and chain
can be too much to cope
people look at this place
disregard the beauty
they see a disgrace
opinion's are laced
prejudice is based
on false expectations
and bad legislation
a sad deviation
a misrepresntation
a misunderstanding of our youth
a fiddler on the roof
I took a gamble
ranted and
rambled
within these ramblings there may be a few good lines, the quotable kind,
so good luck, and adeu, and may good fortune be with you.
PV
Beautifully Broken, gritty and grimed up, graf all on the walls, does nothing to distrupt.
This; a kid's outlet
just another way to cope
a fag for doing art
sprays a bomb
it's dope
a bomb's a way to cope
an outlet,
a source
for a brand new hope
kid's grabbin' at straws
the last of the rope
weight of the ball and chain
can be too much to cope
people look at this place
disregard the beauty
they see a disgrace
opinion's are laced
prejudice is based
on false expectations
and bad legislation
a sad deviation
a misrepresntation
a misunderstanding of our youth
a fiddler on the roof
I took a gamble
ranted and
rambled
within these ramblings there may be a few good lines, the quotable kind,
so good luck, and adeu, and may good fortune be with you.
PV
Sunday, November 29, 2009
The North-West Passage: Canada's Alternate Anthem
November 29th 2009... It is 60 years since Stan Rogers was born in Hamilton Ontario and only 26 years since his passing, on June 2nd 1983.
I feel, given significance of the day that I should share my favourite Stan Rogers moment.
I was watching T.V. flicking through the channels, working my way up through the 50's and 60's where you rarely find anything worth watching. but every so often you find a gem. This night would turn out to be one of those nights, As I flicked to this lonely forgotten channel, in the forlorned 50-70 range, I heard a song, It was solemn, lonely, sincere. It was mournful, and painful,
it was beautiful
i had never heard a song like this, I watched and listened attentively, it was as if i was having a musical epiphony.
I remember hearing the chorus
ah, for just one time
I would take the North-West passage
to find the hand of Franklin
reaching for the Beafort Sea
Tracing one warm line
through a land so wide and savage
and make the North-West passage
to the sea.
This was instantly imprinted in my mind, I ran to the computer to look it up on youtube, and probably listened to it 40 times over.
Everybody has had that moment, where a song just speaks to them, in some instances it is because the song is applicable to their situation at that very moment. Clearly I wasn't stranded in the North Exploring, I was sitting in my Toronto home in the middle of winter, but something about that mournful wail, something about Stan Rogers spoke to me. For weeks I was singing this song, humming it, whistling it, listening to it, learning the words, I was borderline obsessed.
But Winter turned to spring, and other songs filled my head, and while it was still a favourite, it wasn't at the forefront of my musical ventures any more, it had moved to the back of my head, with all the music I already knew and loved, pushed aside by other new music, other music that I was hearing for the first time.
Spring eventually turned into summer and I was excited to be volunteering at Mariposa Folk Festival, in Orillia Ontario, but on the saterday afternoon of the festival, I was particularily excited.
Nathan Rogers, the son of Stan Rogers, was playing the main stage. Nathan doesn't look much like his father, other than the fact that he as well as his father both began balding at an early age. But as soon as he started singing one of his songs; that was when you knew more than anything else about him, that he was the son of Stan Rogers, he had that exact same, shantyman baritone voice, that so many people adored.
Towards the end of his set, he made reference to his father, and a song that he thought was sort of an unrecognised alternate Canadian national anthem, and he asked everyone to please sing along, and as he started playing The North-West Passage, he sounded hauntingly like his father, everybody sang along, realising that in the world today, this is as close as you can get to Stan Rogers, this is his flesh and blood, these are his words, and his voice, out of another man. And though it was the middle of summer, I felt I was there, trying to navigate the North-West passage, with "David Thompson and the rest".
What I felt is inexplicibly hard to describe, I guess the best way to put it was, that it moved me, it touched me in a way that no song had before, and probably no song ever will. It would be like if you saw Johnny Cash playing hurt, which he cannot do beause unfortunately he has passed away.
So seeing Nathan Rogers was like seeing Stan Rogers play, because if you closed your eyes, Stan Rogers is who you would hear.
Later on that weekend I ran into Nathan Rogers, and I told him my story, of how much it meant to me, to hear him play that song, I forget what he said to me, but I could tell that he was glad to be playing the song, because it reminded him of his father, and he was happy to hear my story, happy that in a world moving so fast, where pop hits are coming in and out daily, that his fathers music, Now his music, could still move somebody this much.
Happy Birthday Stan Rogers
May you Rest in Peace.
Ah, for just one time I would take the Northwest Passage
To find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea;
Tracing one warm line through a land so wild and savage
And make a Northwest Passage to the sea.
Westward from the Davis Strait 'tis there 'twas said to lie
The sea route to the Orient for which so many died;
Seeking gold and glory,
leaving weathered, broken bones
And a long-forgotten lonely cairn of stones
Three centuries thereafter,
I take passage overland
In the footsteps of brave Kelso, where his "sea of flowers" began
Watching cities rise before me,
then behind me sink again
This tardiest explorer,
driving hard across the plain.
And through the night,
behind the wheel,
the mileage clicking west
I think upon Mackenzie,
David Thompson
and the rest
Who cracked the mountain ramparts
and did show a path for me
To race the roaring Fraser
to the sea.
How then am I so different
from the first men through this way?
Like them, I left a settled life,
I threw it all away.
To seek a Northwest Passage
at the call of many men
To find there but the road back home again.
Ah, for just one time,
I would take the North-West Passage
To find the hand of Franklin
Reaching for, the Beaufort Sea
Tracing one warm line
Through a land so wide and savage
and make the North-West Passage
to the sea.
PV
I feel, given significance of the day that I should share my favourite Stan Rogers moment.
I was watching T.V. flicking through the channels, working my way up through the 50's and 60's where you rarely find anything worth watching. but every so often you find a gem. This night would turn out to be one of those nights, As I flicked to this lonely forgotten channel, in the forlorned 50-70 range, I heard a song, It was solemn, lonely, sincere. It was mournful, and painful,
it was beautiful
i had never heard a song like this, I watched and listened attentively, it was as if i was having a musical epiphony.
I remember hearing the chorus
ah, for just one time
I would take the North-West passage
to find the hand of Franklin
reaching for the Beafort Sea
Tracing one warm line
through a land so wide and savage
and make the North-West passage
to the sea.
This was instantly imprinted in my mind, I ran to the computer to look it up on youtube, and probably listened to it 40 times over.
Everybody has had that moment, where a song just speaks to them, in some instances it is because the song is applicable to their situation at that very moment. Clearly I wasn't stranded in the North Exploring, I was sitting in my Toronto home in the middle of winter, but something about that mournful wail, something about Stan Rogers spoke to me. For weeks I was singing this song, humming it, whistling it, listening to it, learning the words, I was borderline obsessed.
But Winter turned to spring, and other songs filled my head, and while it was still a favourite, it wasn't at the forefront of my musical ventures any more, it had moved to the back of my head, with all the music I already knew and loved, pushed aside by other new music, other music that I was hearing for the first time.
Spring eventually turned into summer and I was excited to be volunteering at Mariposa Folk Festival, in Orillia Ontario, but on the saterday afternoon of the festival, I was particularily excited.
Nathan Rogers, the son of Stan Rogers, was playing the main stage. Nathan doesn't look much like his father, other than the fact that he as well as his father both began balding at an early age. But as soon as he started singing one of his songs; that was when you knew more than anything else about him, that he was the son of Stan Rogers, he had that exact same, shantyman baritone voice, that so many people adored.
Towards the end of his set, he made reference to his father, and a song that he thought was sort of an unrecognised alternate Canadian national anthem, and he asked everyone to please sing along, and as he started playing The North-West Passage, he sounded hauntingly like his father, everybody sang along, realising that in the world today, this is as close as you can get to Stan Rogers, this is his flesh and blood, these are his words, and his voice, out of another man. And though it was the middle of summer, I felt I was there, trying to navigate the North-West passage, with "David Thompson and the rest".
What I felt is inexplicibly hard to describe, I guess the best way to put it was, that it moved me, it touched me in a way that no song had before, and probably no song ever will. It would be like if you saw Johnny Cash playing hurt, which he cannot do beause unfortunately he has passed away.
So seeing Nathan Rogers was like seeing Stan Rogers play, because if you closed your eyes, Stan Rogers is who you would hear.
Later on that weekend I ran into Nathan Rogers, and I told him my story, of how much it meant to me, to hear him play that song, I forget what he said to me, but I could tell that he was glad to be playing the song, because it reminded him of his father, and he was happy to hear my story, happy that in a world moving so fast, where pop hits are coming in and out daily, that his fathers music, Now his music, could still move somebody this much.
Happy Birthday Stan Rogers
May you Rest in Peace.
Ah, for just one time I would take the Northwest Passage
To find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea;
Tracing one warm line through a land so wild and savage
And make a Northwest Passage to the sea.
Westward from the Davis Strait 'tis there 'twas said to lie
The sea route to the Orient for which so many died;
Seeking gold and glory,
leaving weathered, broken bones
And a long-forgotten lonely cairn of stones
Three centuries thereafter,
I take passage overland
In the footsteps of brave Kelso, where his "sea of flowers" began
Watching cities rise before me,
then behind me sink again
This tardiest explorer,
driving hard across the plain.
And through the night,
behind the wheel,
the mileage clicking west
I think upon Mackenzie,
David Thompson
and the rest
Who cracked the mountain ramparts
and did show a path for me
To race the roaring Fraser
to the sea.
How then am I so different
from the first men through this way?
Like them, I left a settled life,
I threw it all away.
To seek a Northwest Passage
at the call of many men
To find there but the road back home again.
Ah, for just one time,
I would take the North-West Passage
To find the hand of Franklin
Reaching for, the Beaufort Sea
Tracing one warm line
Through a land so wide and savage
and make the North-West Passage
to the sea.
PV
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Five Days
Guy:
It's been five days, and countin'
counting the days, its been
since you left
it's been five days, and countin'
been dancin' my way
all along the treble clef
it's been five days since i saw you
saw you walk out that door
in so many ways, i miss you
i need you more, than ever before
it's been five days and i'm countin'
i'm countin' on a miracle
it's been five days, i know it's been too long
does it count for something, that I wrote you a song
it's been five days, since i called you
your silence, is killing me
it's been five days since i told you
please baby please don't leave
it's been five days
since you packed your bags
you've gone away
your gone to stay
i hope and pray
that i'll see the day
where i'll hear you say
Gal:
it's been too long and I miss you
hey baby can I kiss you
and I know
it's been five days, and you've been countin'
countin' the days it would take
for me to call, and you to answer
it took five days, of countin'
wont be counting again no more
you're coming back
you'll be walking through that door
you walk in, we embrace
like a million times before
and i love you
you're the one,
i adore
It's been five days, and countin'
counting the days, its been
since you left
it's been five days, and countin'
been dancin' my way
all along the treble clef
it's been five days since i saw you
saw you walk out that door
in so many ways, i miss you
i need you more, than ever before
it's been five days and i'm countin'
i'm countin' on a miracle
it's been five days, i know it's been too long
does it count for something, that I wrote you a song
it's been five days, since i called you
your silence, is killing me
it's been five days since i told you
please baby please don't leave
it's been five days
since you packed your bags
you've gone away
your gone to stay
i hope and pray
that i'll see the day
where i'll hear you say
Gal:
it's been too long and I miss you
hey baby can I kiss you
and I know
it's been five days, and you've been countin'
countin' the days it would take
for me to call, and you to answer
it took five days, of countin'
wont be counting again no more
you're coming back
you'll be walking through that door
you walk in, we embrace
like a million times before
and i love you
you're the one,
i adore
Sunday, November 22, 2009
My Great Canadian Week
The Great Canadian Week: Wednesday, see the Tragically Hip, score a ticket to the after party, meet the band; except Gord (who was watching hockey), have pancakes the following morning with real 100% Canadian Maple Syrup, followed by Timmy's and a Maple Donut; Saterday see The Joel Plaskett Emergency, before the show run into Stewart Mclean (host of the vinyl cafe on cbc radio 1) as well as Julie Penner (Music producer for the Vinyl cafe and also plays with Broken Social Scene) after a fantastic show of improvised lyrics, sing alongs, clapping and dance, run into Jian Gomeshi (host of Q on cbc radio 1; as well as playing with Moxy Fruvous) then drive home, make a couple cars on a Rogers Phone (Rogers is a prominent Canadian Company, founded by Ted Rogers, who passed away recently, and i believe he was 78, but i could be wrong) get home and find my T.V. on the CBC, still on from watching Hockey Night in Canada earlier in the Night; Luckily Sid the Kid and the Pitsburgh Penguins won, which not only is good for Canada because Crosby is arguably the best Canadian player, but it also helps me out in my hockey pool; this is a pretty good run on sentence i've got going here, so bewtween, Joel Plaskett, the Tragically Hip, Stewart Mclean, and Timmy's it really has been; a Great Canadian Week.
PV
PV
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