It would be easy to let these days pass by without taking time to write it all down, but I’ve been re-inspired lately to stop and smell the roses (if you will) and to remember the good and the bad times.

I would hate to wake up one day, having zoomed in and out of so many interesting places, and not remember any one thing that happened, but just that it happened.  So, while I’m here and while it’s happening, I’d like to dwell on the incredible moments, and laugh about the things that went wrong, and hope to glean some insight into myself and my friends and maybe even make the trips ahead, even easier.

This is my account of our February 2012 tour to Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Montana and Indiana; the highlights, the bruises, the microbreweries, the late nights, the weird sound checks, the great food, the beige food, the audiences, the hotels and whatever else I can think of…

We flew into Spokane, WA on February 2nd, slept in Ritzville, WA that night and headed to Fox Island the next day. My first morning started at 6am, jet-lagged in the best way, as I watched the sun rise while swimming 60 lengths in a very short pool. We stopped in Seattle for lunch, and the weather was so warm and sunny that we ditched our winter jackets and walked through Pike Place Market absorbing every last drop of vitamin D we could. Our dear friend, travel companion, upright bassist, (and beer & coffee enthusiast), Paul Mathew, started what we can now call “the beer experiment tour” with a few delicious bottles of local beer he picked up in Seattle, with the help of an equally enthusiastic clerk in the market. The drive was picturesque, with mountains on one side, and forests surrounding us. The smell of spring (in February…)  gave us an extra kick of energy as we approached the beautiful, little chapel on the water, where we were to play our first show.

Our host Deborah, was a wonderful woman, who had filled our lodging with food and drink (wine, pasta, tortilla chips that lasted the length of the ENTIRE 3-week tour, salsa, bacon, eggs, croissants… my god, there was enough food to feed an army … of musicians.) The chapel was full of people and the crowd was responsive and energetic as we insisted they join us on a few songs.

In the morning we headed to a ranch owned by Michael O’Neill, who is also a radio host, and a musician. Earlier in the week, Caroline had had a Skype interview with him, and he asked if we would play live in his studio while we were in town. He was awesome, and said “dang” in response to us finishing a song. The ranch was gorgeous, and full of horses. Sue was in heaven.

The next night, in Forest Grove, was a real highlight show for me. The theatre had a natural ambiance, a gifted sound engineer, an amazing audience, and the promoters even brought out a grand piano for me to play. We couldn’t have felt more taken care of.  And boy, do I ever miss playing the piano.  I wish I could fold a Steinway grand into my carry-on, but alas.

Paul’s birthday was the next day, so we opted to get a couple of rooms in Portland, Oregon and spend the day there. We drank Stumptown coffee (holy crap, if I wasn’t a coffee snob before Stumptown entered my life, I certainly am now), we visited Powell Books, second hand shops, print shops, art stores, music stores, all selling us tax free goods (!) And we ended the night in Deschutes Brewery for a birthday dinner, and some scrumptious meals, beers, and one decadent dessert with four spoons. It was all too good to be true. *Note to self: finish tours in Portland, Oregon, don’t start them there.*

And how can I forget “Whole Foods”, our food saviour, when restaurants just don’t cut it. I maintain that if there was a “Whole Foods” in every town, touring would be as easy as putting on velcro shoes… but I digress. I could write an entire blog just about the food options we enjoy (and the ones we could live without.)

Sandpoint, Idaho was our next stop. A few things stick out about  Sandpoint. 1) We found out we were nominated for a Juno there; 2) We performed for an audience of 450 school-aged children who cheered like mad when they heard about the nomination, and 3) we stayed in Sleeps Cabins – two beautiful cabins with a mountain backdrop and a gorgeous lakefront view. Pretty amazing, really. We ate massive sandwiches from Spuds restaurant, we did two in studio interviews in town, and then we played in the lovely Panida Theatre.

The next night, we were in Salmon, Idaho, a beautiful little town nestled between two impressive mountain ranges. Salmon, Idaho is located right next to Montana and is home to a pretty great group of arts supporters. Our show was at an Elk’s Lodge. Never before had we played in a room with four elk heads staring at us. Also, it is rare that we have a dancing crowd at our shows… we witnessed older couples dancing in a style I only see at weddings, we watched young couples slow dance to our ballads. It’s been awhile since we played to a rowdy bunch, and it definitely got us laughing on stage. The next morning, three of us took off to a nearby hot springs to bask in a natural hot tub and bathe in the hot, hot February sun (?) There we met a large, chatty fellow, covered in tattoos, drinking can after can of beer while enjoying the same comforts we were enjoying from the neighbouring pool. It was truly decadent. And he was friendly, informative and invited us back anytime.

On our first day in Montana, we woke up at 5am to perform on “Montana This Morning” the local morning TV show. Back at our hotel, after the show, two ladies came by to say they had seen us on TV. The next two nights we played Helena and Bozeman.  I cannot stress enough how kind people were on this trip. Not just the crowds, but the stage techs, the promoters, our backstage handlers, the people we met on the streets. Not one grumpy person (that I can recall.) Everyone was so cheerful, helpful and professional. This especially felt true in Bozeman, Montana – an artsy town with some pretty amazing people. We went to dinner with our host John and enjoyed some Montana beef and some local ale… (again.)

We had extra time off on this trip, which is rare for us. We tend to keep busy every night, so as not to go spend all the money we are supposed to be earning. But in Bozeman, we went into a great cowboy shop, and Caroline’s eyes fell upon some beautiful, worn-in vintage boots at a price she couldn’t refuse. So now, in her collection, she proudly owns a pair of boots acquired in Montana. I think she is winning the boot race in our band.

We drove by the edge of Yellowstone Park the next day, so Sue could see some grizzly bears and wolves (she did and was delighted.) We were  pulled over for going 35 mph, in a 25 mph zone (by the nicest cop on the planet.) The state trooper gave us a light reprimand, and told us to have a nice day and to get safely to our next destination. We landed back in Idaho on a Sunday after 8pm and found that it was very difficult to get dinner after 8pm. Back at our hotel, we opened Sue’s growler of stout beer, that she acquired in Salmon, and partook in the better part of it. (For those of you who don’t know – I just learned this tidbit of information – a growler is basically a jug of beer. Enough for three thirsty people. Maybe four, if you’re a sharing group.

We drank, watched Parks and Recreation, restrung our instruments. The next night, we commandeered a conference room at the Holiday Inn in Nampa, ID and played new songs for each other. We stayed up late, celebrated pre-Valentine’s Day (with each other by the way, not our man-friends.) This was probably my favourite night off on tour, as far as hang outs go. To sit around and collaborate on new music together is one of the greatest joys I have experienced in my life. To trust the musicians around you to be kind and thoughtful with your new creations is an incredible feeling.  It’s a beautiful thing. And everyone’s songs are so beautiful in different ways, it was a treat to hear one each from Sue, from Caroline, from Paul and an old one I wrote. It was a special night.

Next it was Nampa, ID then to Idaho Falls, where we played to a great crowd of 100 folks in an art gallery. Another memorable night with great people, great art, and a sound man who knew how to make us shine.

From here the tour became a blur. We drove 9 hours from Idaho back to Spokane Washington. We slept for a few hours, woke up at 4:30 am to catch a 6:30 am flight to Indiana. After a long haul, very little to eat, and the worst traffic jam I’ve been in, in years, we had a rushed sound check, no dinner, and played an hour long set. I’ve been discombobulated on stage before, and man, is it ever a weird feeling to entertain people on an empty stomach (and an empty head.)  This is what makes our job very different than say, a desk job, where if one day you’re having a bad day at your desk job at least there aren’t 500 sets of eyes watching your every move, and commenting on how tired your eyes look. The crowd was gracious and we even came back out for an encore. I wish I had videotaped that night!

After that show, we had an awful time checking into our hotel – they offered smoking rooms, which we can’t take – and there were no extra rooms available at the hotel (or in the city) as there was a farm machinery convention happening that weekend… We still hadn’t eaten dinner at midnight, and drove around like crazy-eyed hawks, looking for something that wasn’t made in a grease-tank. We found one restaurant, open and hopping at midnight, but walked in to find a room full of smokers blowing noxious air into our tired, hungry faces. Across the street, Wendy’s beckoned us, and so, to Wendy’s we went. I ate a “veggie sandwich” – made up of two white bun halves, two slices of processed cheese and a two layers of iceberg lettuce. I wanted to cry as I bit into in, but could only laugh at this pathetic excuse for a sandwich. (I ordered a frosty too, but watched it melt at my bedside, as my stomach urged me not to eat it.

Back at the hotel, Caroline and I were “hit on” (I guess) by two men standing outside the hotel. They said hello, and I growled a short “hi” back. One of them looked a little startled and told me I sounded angry. I stopped and said to him, “You know, I am angry. I had a terrible day, and I was just ranting about it.” And he answered, his arms outstretched “Wanna make it a whole lot better?” I laughed, thinking about how the oddest things could cheer me up after a tough day.

One last show to go: we were burnt out, hungry for some of that green food we’d been taking for granted a few days earlier, missing the hot springs of Montana, picturing our own beds covered in clean, smoke-free blankets. At our final destination, we were greeted by the kindest, most loving embrace, a woman named Lisa took us into the room and just radiated a motherly warmth that we all needed. We played with the energy we had left, packed up, drove 2 hours to Indianapolis, where our plane would take us home the next morning at the crack of dawn.

We met the first unkind person on that trip at the check-in counter at 6am on Sunday morning. He insisted on charging us top dollar for a bag that we never get charged for. Our layover in Charlotte, NC, was so short, we narrowly missed the plane that would deliver us to Toronto. And upon arrival to Toronto, Paul’s bag was nowhere to be seen and there was no agent at the desk to help us out. With Caroline fighting illness, and the rest of us just trying to keep sane, it was good the tour ended there.

I was happy to walk through my door that day. Happy that the majority of the tour was a hit, and happy that only three days were as discombobulating as they were. I am happy still that there are more tours to come, and happy that we made it through rough times. Some of our worst experiences have ended up being our best learning experiences (and some of our best stage stories.)

I would not trade in our show at the strip club in Kenora in the summer of 2008 for a perfect night at a premiere venue. Nope, that story is as much a part of our band’s legacy as the songs we write and the albums we make.

As is this tour of the US.

And I can’t wait to go back.

xo/ko

Dec 12, 2011 – Second leg of Christmas Tour – Minnesota and Saskatchewan.

We’re home again (for 22 hours) and then we hit the road tomorrow morning for the final stretch of ten Christmas shows in Ontario. I hate to be trite, but “whirlwind” is the only word that describes this mad-dash winter adventure we embarked on just 12 days ago.

We left for the second leg of tour on Thursday December 8th on yet another international flight to Minnesota. International flights typically take twice as long as domestic ones, due to customs lineups, but this time it was different. We were the first in line at the United Airlines counter, we got checked in and bag-tagged in less than ten minutes. The customs lineup had about a dozen people in it (instead of a hundred people) and we zipped through without a hitch. We spoke with two of the friendliest border guards we’ve ever met, security took no time at all, and there we were with what felt like hours to spend in Pearson airport at breakfast time. That may have been the easiest morning we’ve ever had, and for that, we thank United Airlines from the bottom of our hearts.

We played in Minneapolis that night, in a wonderful room, run by awesome people and dedicated volunteers. The club was awesome, and the audience (at a cozy 20 people) was warm and receptive and made enough noise to sound like 50! The Cedar Cultural Centre is a great space, with a charming green room filled with posters and stickers from all the bands who have come before us. It’s a big space to fill, and what we lacked in numbers we made up for in camaraderie with the audience, and it was a blast and we’re looking forward to a return visit. After a long day of travel (and gaining an hour with the time change) we were a bit peckish for post-show pizza. We sought out Pizza Luce, and were not disappointed with the warm cheesy-doughy (calorie free) meal. ☺

Caroline and I were sharing a room that night, and were surprised to see our thermostat sitting at a low 64 degrees when we woke up. It was hard to leave the warmth of bed, so we just stayed there awhile sharing our odd and vivid dreams with each other. Touring is like one never-ending sleepover. Not a lot of adults get to have as many overnighters with their best friends – I think this is what changes a close friendship to the sisterly feelings we share between us.

We headed south the next morning to a lovely theatre in Fairmont, MN. Apparently, just before we arrived for sound check, the furnace broke. Needless to say, it was really cold inside… so cold that at one point I couldn’t grip my pick and had to stop strumming the guitar because I couldn’t feel my hand. So cold, that everyone in the audience was wearing their winter jackets and mitts and huddled close to each other. I think now we’ve experienced playing in the hottest of venues (in Vancouver during a heat wave) and now the coldest of venues … not great for our brains — mine was definitely moving at a mind-numbingly slow pace due to brain freeze. Back at our hotel we hunkered down with a bottle of wine and few bottles of Guinness and watched The Office and Jimmy Fallon until our bodies fell asleep. Another early morning was to follow, taking us back up to Minneapolis on a flight to Saskatoon.

That flight was the emptiest flight we’ve ever been on and therefore felt like our own private jet. The clerk at the Delta counter, for some unknown reason, gave us vouchers for free cocktails aboard the flight, so we happily partook. It was a jolly flight, and eventually a jolly drive from Saskatoon to Lloydminster, a town on the border of Alberta and Saskatchewan.

We gained an hour (which was welcome so we could have a long sound check; but also unwelcome, as we were running on very little energy by that evening.) The show was a hoot, and the staff delightful to work with. We’ve completely forgotten what a regular schedule feels like. And the amount of starch and dough we put into our bodies over the last four days, is not recommended by Canada’s Food Guide…

That night, our hotel left a lot to be desired, with a dance club pounding out awful beats until 2am, and a smoky karaoke bar adjacent to the elevators leading to our rooms. Oh, if it were a different time, I would have busted out one of my top five karaoke favourites, but that night, I could barely stand it. But exhaustion is an amazing thing, and even with the heavy club beats thumping under Sue and I, we fell asleep in record time.

Last night we played in Prince Albert, Saskatchewan to an amazing and enthusiastic crowd. You could feel the love in the air, and our own excitement grew as we watched the show come together even more. After another 5 hour nap last night, we flew from Saskatoon to Toronto – waited impatiently for our bags, really looking forward to one day at home to recharge and prepare for 10 days in a row of Christmas music!!! (I’m not sure if those exclamation points are excited or sarcastic. Let’s go with excited.) Ben has been so much fun to tour with, to play with and to hang with. He feels like a brother and a buddy we’ve known our whole lives. Tomorrow we add Christine Bougie to the band, which is extremely thrilling for us – because we’ve never had her on an entire tour before.

I’m headed out for food, because my mind thinks it’s lunch, or maybe dinner. Whatever I decide to eat, you can bet pasta and pizza are out of the mix. Tomorrow – to Ottawa!

Monday December 5th - Good Lovelies in the U.S.A
Written by Kerri Ough

It’s Monday afternoon and I’ve just woken up from what I’m going to call a “nap” after taking the red-eye home from Seattle last night. I have the perfect Americano in my hand, a piece of delicious banana bread, and I can see the CN Tower in front of me through the haze of the afternoon rain in Toronto, from my office window.

We are in full Christmas mode after playing six holiday shows in just four days. We’ve never played any of these American towns before and it’s incredible to show up and have an audience at all, let alone a large and enthusiastic one. For the past three mornings we’ve all been waking up with various Christmas songs stuck in our heads after epic rehearsals and performances… this morning it was Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree for me.

I would be lying if I said this trip began smoothly. It started (for me) with an irate cab driver yelling at me to “hurry up” at 5am on Friday morning, and then an unpleasant conversation with a flight attendant forcing me to gate-check my banjo (which has not happened in a long time), then arriving at our destination and not having the banjo show up where it was supposed to be. Also, a butter art exploded inside my backpack on my toque, mittens and journal (not the easiest thing to clean up, if you’re wondering.)

Due to a late arrival in Minneapolis, we arrived at our first show of the day 30 minutes after the show was supposed to have started (it was an afternoon holiday concert at a nearby community centre in Winona.) And because of our late arrival, we had to start the show the second we set up our instruments, in the clothes we were had been traveling in, without a second to warm-up or do a quick sound check.

As bumpy as it was, nobody seemed to have minded the wait, and we had two great shows that day — and then a five-hour sleep and a flight to Washington the next morning at 8am. It’s a glamorous lifestyle, I know.

For eleven months straight we’ve been touring our original music and though our set list changes night to night, typically it’s 98 per cent original music and 2 per cent cover songs. Then, for one month, we embrace the Christmas season, and completely shift our show to be 80 per cent holiday music and 20 per cent original music. It’s always a welcome challenge to shift to a completely new show, but it’s time consuming to learn two sets worth of new music, especially considering we only had three days between the last tour and this one. You can imagine the jumble of songs rolling around inside our heads, hence the reason we’re waking up every day with Christmas songs on the tip of our brains.

I like the Christmas tour ,though. Sue pulls out a ukulele for a few songs, Caroline fires up her electric guitar licks on some wickedly tricky old-timey and jazzy Christmas tunes and I get to dust off my shiny red Nord and bust out my piano chops for 22 shows. After a lifetime of piano lessons, it’s nice to tickle the ivories (or rather “tickle the plastics”) and add a different dimension to the show.

Also, for these first eight shows of tour we have our friend and upright bassist Ben Whiteley playing with us. At our show in Aberdeen, Washington, Ben came out for our encore wearing a Christmas tree costume that he borrowed from our emcee. He sauntered over to his upright bass, and picked it up for “Song for a Winter’s Night” a solemn Gordon Lightfoot tune. And I’ll admit, it was a challenge to get through this gorgeous ballad without cracking up every time I caught a glimpse of Tree-Ben in my periphery. Sue and I barely managed to hold it together, and Caroline, who stands stage left, lost it completely and was weeping delirious, happy tears at the sight of Ben as a tree and had to stop and start the song a couple times. These rare laughing fits on stage are always unexpected, memorable and often after we’ve been sleep deprived for several days.

The rest of the shows went swimmingly, Sue donning a tool belt at one point during the show to hold all of her wacky percussion instruments, wowing us with spoon solos and general theatrics; Caroline leading us on her electric guitar in Blue Christmas, which I’m very excited about performing, and me sorting out how to maneuver between my piano and banjo stations on stage.

The show feels great, and with every night of tour it gets better and better. It’s exciting to see how everything comes together the minute it has to. I love that about show business. You never know you’re ready until you hit the stage and show yourself you’re ready.

And so, last night, from the stage in Port Ludlow, Washington, we received news that we won the Canadian Folk Music Award for Vocal Group of the Year for our most recent album Let the Rain Fall. We announced the news to our audience at the top of the second set (all the while jumping up and down with giddy delight) and the crowd rushed to its feet and gave us a resounding cheer! It was the perfect way to celebrate an award like that, with a brand new crowd wishing us the best in our careers.

Today, we’re basking in the glow of completely leg one of this three-legged tour and enjoying the kind words from friends and fans about the award and looking forward to keeping this Christmas train moving.

I love this time of year.

Next up, Minneapolis and Saskatchewan…

It’s that time of year, when our festival season draws to a close.

The 2011 summer festival season has been an interesting and varied one. We headed as far North as Iqaluit, and as South as California’s World Music Festival. We braved our first tornado in Salina, Kansas at the Smoky Hill River Festival. We played in Ontario – a soggy but spirited weekend at Summerfolk in Owen Sound and a beautiful opening night at Peterborough Folk Festival. We sang amidst the mountains of Canmore, Alberta and landed (after much delay!) in foggy St. John’s for the Newfoundland Folk Festival. And in between: a beautiful sunny weekend in Michigan at Blissfest.

caricature of the GLs on the mainstage of Blissfest

One of my favourite experiences this summer was driving from San Diego to Grass Valley, CA (just north of Sacramento) to play the California World Music festival. The drive itself, about 10 hours, was spectacular. We moved through the lush green of the South, stood still in L.A. gridlock, climbed through desert mountains up into the B.C. reminiscent landscape of Northern California.

Along the way, we passed giant trucks filled with tomatoes and onions. Sue’s Dad joked with us later that a catastrophic pile-up must have been the birth of salsa. You could literally taste the tomatoes as we overtook the trucks.

On that drive up hwy 5, we also passed the largest cattle farms I have ever seen – AND SMELLED. The fields of cows were endless, about 2 kilometres wide, and absolutely devastating. There were thousands of cattle lined up and squished together on dusty fields. I am not vegetarian, but the sight of those cattle farms put me off meat for awhile. This is modern farming, and it’s very scary.

The California World Music Fest had us on the main stage right before Saturday night’s headliner, India Arie. I remember when India’s hit “Video” came out in the early 2000’s. It is an anthem for women – untraditional and independent. I loved that song then, but love it so much more after seeing her play live.

India gave one of the most honest and heartfelt performances I’ve seen in a long time. She sang beautifully and danced around the stage in a flowing traditional African dress. Kerri, Sue and I stood side stage for the whole show, eating it up. I had to pick my jaw up off the floor several times. This is a woman you want your daughters looking up to – she takes her role as peace maker and goodness purveyor very seriously. If you don’t know her, you should. Check her out at: www.indiaarie.com

One of the best parts of playing festivals is collaborating. In Canmore, we had Oliver Craven from the Steel Wheels (check them out: www.thesteelwheels.com) join us on the main stage at Canmore Folk Festival on fiddle. He played Old Highway with us, strings bouncing off mountains and back again. In the bright sunlight of that stage we also had Steve Pitkin of Elliott Brood (our musical brothers – check out www.elliottbrood.com) join us on drums for Crabbuckit and Lie Down. It felt like magic in a bowl of mountains!

September feels more like the start of a new year than January. I think it’s all of those years starting school – fall, for me, is about new beginnings. We have a very busy year ahead indeed. It starts this month with the Fall Showcases in Seattle, Minneapolis and Baton Rouge. 20 minutes to strut our stuff for music presenters and festival bookers. If all goes well, we’ll be playing a lot more in the U.S. over the next couple of years.

This fall will have us on tour in the United States (we have a bunch of shows in North & South Carolina this October), Northern Ontario, Alberta. Dates are posted on our website. We hope to see you at a show!

Thanks always, for the support. It’s been a great summer.

xo Caroline for Good Lovelies

Canmore Folk Fest: be still our hearts. What a perfect setting to play and sing. Our friend Ryan Mathew Fields shot this photo of us while we readied for our first workshop with Melissa McClelland and Luke Doucet on Sunday.

Just before this, we hopped up on stage with Elliott Brood and sang Neil Young’s tune “Comes a Time” with them. We hadn’t slept much between performing with the Vinyl Cafe the night before in Orillia in Ontario, but we didn’t care with all the fun going on there.

Alberta will always have a special place in our hearts, and Canmore especially.

xo/ko

Iqaluit – “place of many fish.”

If you’ve never experienced the midnight sun in Canada’s Arctic – I strongly urge you to book a ticket north for next summer and see it first hand.

The decision to spend Canada Day in Iqaluit excited me more than usual. I think it made me feel *extra* Canadian (if that’s even possible) to experience a new part of our beautiful country on such a patriotic occasion. And, with the temperature rising to 15 degrees at its warmest and dipping to five degrees (or lower) at its chilliest on July 1st — I felt proud (and hearty) to be Canadian.

I think what struck us most upon first glance was the treeless landscape. When the plane descended from the clouds, we spotted ice in the water, bright-coloured houses on the water’s edge, and nary a tree blocking our view of town. No matter how many episodes of Planet Earth I had watched depicting Canada’s Arctic landscape, I was still unprepared to see it up close and personal. Here’s a photo of Iqaluit from the hill we climbed the day we arrived.

On the way to lunch, we walked past the Iqaluit Post Office, which had the word Iqaluit written in both English and Inuktitut.

At the top of the hill we climbed, we came across the sign to the Road to Nowhere – obviously a road we decided to hike at midnight the following night. As we posed for this photo, we noticed written on the back of the sign someone had scrawled “Stealing this sign will give you instant bad karma.” It got me to thinking how many times that sign has had to be replaced… and also, if some silly traveler came and took it, how on earth they got it through airport security when they left.

The next day, after playing a show, we took a 5km hike to the nearby town Apex – noted on Wikipedia as a suburb of Iqaluit. Sue stepped onto the beach and started playing with the snow, remarking that this was her first time handling snow on Canada Day… She picked up this snowball and tried to shot-put it at me. (She didn’t quite make it, but I applauded her efforts.)

As we left the Apex trail, we saw some people on the coast line and we were curious as to what they were fishing for. When we passed by a family of three locals headed toward the shore, they answered that they were digging for clams. Sue learned later that night that digging for clams is no easy feat as they burrow into the ground with great force once they feel someone threatening to unearth them. Down by the beach we walked by this dogsled, one of many we saw throughout the weekend. Now we’re eager to return in the winter to see them in action.

We climbed the rocks on the beach and took a rest and a drink of water. It was so peaceful and serene up there, that we stopped to sing our national anthem in three part harmony for an audience of two (two of our partners joined us that weekend and were witness to our spontaneous outpouring of national pride. It was private, and lovely, and another reminder why I love spending all my time with my two best friends.

The purpose for the trip of course was the beautiful Alianait Festival . We caught up with old friends from the April Verch Band, we finally met the ladies of Annie Lou (check them out!) and met the folks in a great electronic band from New Zealand – The Mamaku Project. The music was top notch, and the crowd was eager and out in full force.

The last day of the festival we played our main performance to a receptive and attentive crowd, and were followed by local favourites, Simeonie Keenainak – who took the night home with a big dance party in the school gym. It was a night to remember, a weekend to remember, and truly a Canada Day we won’t ever forget.

/ko

Monday, May 30th
8:37 pm
Writing from my basement apartment

I’ve been staring at the 2011 calendar on my wall for the last five minutes. It’s one of the Farmer’s Almanac calendars that has all sorts of useful gardening tips in it and quirky names for the different full moons – in May, it was called the Full Flower Moon for some unexplained reason – and my calendar is marked up with the names of cities and towns I’ve visited.

I’ve been counting the days of the year that have passed so far: 150 days. And I haven’t regretted a single one.

Of those days, 66 were spent playing shows; 88 were spent away from home either on tour in four different countries — or visiting Thompson, Manitoba; and 62 days were spent in Toronto, at home, sleeping in my own bed, making my own food.

In the past 150 days, we’ve been to six states in the United States , all over Ontario – north, south, west and east – we’ve been to four Australian states and we just finished touring Wales, England and Scotland.

I am not wearied by this, I am ecstatic. I do not dread the next trip that is right around the corner, that will take us to a festival in Kansas. I live for this. I am inspired by this. I smile at my computer screen as I write this, ticking off the days in between shows with chores, moving apartments, 5k runs, and homemade meals (sort of.)

And it makes me feel lucky.

When I was little, I had a notion that I wanted to be a performer of some sort. I always liked music; playing it, listening to it, singing or inventing songs. But my eleven year old self had no idea what it would actually entail to make performing work as a living. I think if I knew then, what I know now, it wouldn’t have been this lifestyle I was after. After all, my view of performing came from Ed McMahon’s Star Search, or listening to the Mini-Pops with my sisters or watching Beatles movies – where throngs of wild and crazy fans would chase them all over town. I thought it meant I’d get up every night in front of packed houses, who would cheer me on and fill my life with glamour and strange meaning. I likely thought that someone else would take care of figuring this out for me, and I’d just be the recipient of being in the right place at the right time.

But it’s not like that and it’s never been like – ever since the first show the Good Lovelies performed. What we do, wouldn’t have been fathomable to an eleven-year-old me. What we do isn’t stadium shows with people screaming our names and passing out because it’s too much for them to handle. No, what we do is we set ourselves up in peoples’ homes, or in intimate venues, bars, cafes, listening rooms or town halls and play for attentive audiences. What we do is be ourselves, and sing and play our hearts out, and bask in the warm glow of the people we are entertaining. What we do is not complicated, or mind-altering or heart-attack inducing. What we do is laugh, and sing, and go to sleep and then do it all again the next day with a new group of people.

I feel so lucky.

I feel lucky because in 30 years of life, at the heart of me still, is an idealistic kid who is hopeful, who sees potential, and who is ready and willing to try.

And trying has lead us to Australia, the UK and to the US. And it’s lead us across and back this dear and supportive native country of ours, Canada, time and again.

And if Canada doesn’t know this already, the people we’re meeting all over the world have nothing but glowing words to say about the quality of musicians, bands and people coming out of our beautiful country.

And to be standing on foreign soil, hearing the voices around you compliment the very place that helped us get our start in this business, I stand beaming with pride. Pride for my fellow musicians, pride for my country and the landscape that inspires us all so much. And I am proud to be representing Canada every night I take the stage and put on a show.

No, I wouldn’t trade this for anything.

Kangaroo!

I’m sitting in Seaford Rise, looking at the photos from the last four days in South Australia. It’s late Sunday night, and back home it’s 10:25 on Sunday morning. I love being one step ahead of my loved ones.

I should start by telling you that we fulfilled one item on our To-Do list and saw our first (and eventually our twentieth) kangaroo yesterday. We visited The Urimbirra Wildlife Park in Victor Harbour and spent nearly two hours hanging out with the kangaroos and other beautiful Australian wildlife. Here’s a picture of the first kangaroo we met. He was cute, and didn’t hop at us, but instead approached very slowly, almost like he was sneaking up on us.

Koala!

A few minutes later, we spotted this sleeping koala. We had just missed feeding time (the only four hours a day when they are actually awake according to the guide) so we enjoyed them from afar. But because we stayed so long at the park, feeding time came around again and I got to see the little guys moving around, and I even got to pet them while they dined on eucalyptus leaves. So far, all of my Australian expectations are being met, and then some.

Good Lovelies seaside

Just down the road, in Victor Harbour, our host Pete took us over to the bluffs where we climbed to the top of the rock for a stunning view of the water, the coast line and the town. I love hiking, and climbing – we all do, and when we got to the top, Pete snapped a photo of us catching our breath. If you’re wondering why our hair looks like that, it’s because the wind was whipping at a pretty good pace.

I think this next photo speaks for itself. This one rather *fresh* kangaroo followed us around the park for awhile, and eventually just sort of hugged Sue. I’m glad I turned around to capture the moment… Thanks Sue, for letting me post this photo.

Sue feeds a Roo

It’s a rare experience for us to actually get to settle into one place while we’re touring, so these past four days in South Australia have been amazing. We hunkered down in Seaford Rise with two of the nicest people we’ve ever met. We’ve been sleeping on various pull-out couches and beds in their home, and they keep feeding us and letting us take over their home with our stuff. Pete’s been taking us around town and the countryside showing us kangaroos and koalas, and Annie has been entertaining us with stories and songs, and keeping us caffeinated and fed. It’s going to be hard not to bring them back to Canada with us, but I suppose it’s a good thing to have such wonderful people in Australia so the next time we visit, we can meet up with them again!

Pete and Annie

This is a candid shot of Pete and Annie that I took today during our concert at the Peacock Farm. Pete ran our sound and helped put this show together (and our show the first night we arrived in Port Noarlunga.)

I should stop typing and go to bed. It’s getting late, and we have an early morning ahead of us. I have to go write my mom another letter to assure her that we’re safe and sound, and that all is going well down under. She’s particularly interested in our kangaroo sightings, so I’m off to embellish some stories for dramatic effect. (Just kidding, I never embellish.)

Have a lovely Sunday in Canada – and in Australia – happy Monday, folks!

xo/kerri o