Tag Archives: Princess Nut

RUNNING OUT OF REDHEADS, RUNNING OUT OF TIME

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Yikes! No wonder I’m looking over my shoulder. The world is running out of redheads. We are predicted to be extinct within 100 years. And we experience pain differently. I knew it. I’m not just a sensitive artist as my friend Gretl so kindly pointed out.

Musings. Such musings are pretty much all I can muster today; struggling to shake malaise, the flu and my inner misanthrope, mood nearly as foul as the weather. Why bother? Why bother blogging? I am a barometer of the times if nothing else. A speck. A speck that can’t stop striving to be more than a speck.

“When you feel happy it somehow seems that you’ve always been happy and that you’ll always be happy. The same is often true when you feel sad, or lonely, or depressed, or broke, or sick, or scared. Something, perhaps, to remember.”-One of those silly albeit often prescient Notes from the Universe. What a relief. It’s only a matter of time. Not sure there’s much consolation in that.

Music helps. At the moment, I am listening to a favoured Internet radio station, Cluberry Chill, ‘cause I needs to chill don’t you know. Rest. Recover. They just played Laurie Anderson’s Mr. Heartbreak and are now onto some swanky 60s noir soul. Sometimes I move over to Mountain Chill where the DJ drawls song titles reminiscent of the classic, late night DJ portrayed by Clint Eastwood in Play Misty For Me, the original Fatal Attraction. “Stay tuned.” Old school. Who gets to program their own program these days? We are very adept at bringing back the tried and true way of doing things though. Rock and roll will never die and neither will DJs. My favourite rock station lately is AndHow.com out of New Zealand. I love Internet radio, its infinite selection. I cannot abide commercial radio and refuse to listen to it in the car, plugging in my iPod instead. I can’t believe they’re playing essentially the same playlists they played in the 70s.

Creating helps. Family affair. I’m writing songs with my nephew and gearing up to Continue reading →

Two takes on a triumphant launch of the nutty Princess

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Post Princess Nut CD launch at the Media Club in Vancouver. Feeling relief and gratified that we’ve arrived at the next level, this level-our act together, taking it on the road. It hasn’t been easy. We’ve persevered through windstorms, computer meltdowns and neurotic or drug-addicted colleagues. Logistics are daunting, to say the least, with both of us living on islands but I felt triumphant the other night onstage. I am proud of us, excited about our sound and where we have evolved to.

We are performing spoken word songs, or spongs for short. I recite a poem to music that Roderick has brilliantly composed and arranged, with various parts sung or spoken. (I am so lucky to be working with Roderick.) Recently we wrote two songs with a more traditional approach but they are still adaptations of poetry. One, Sun Hee, is jazz-influenced though I swore we would never play that stuff. Actually, I love jazz, have listened to a lot of it, but I cannot abide omnipresent, clichéd neo-beat performed with saxaphones, bongo drums and berets. This song just came out jazz-singed however and Roderick says it’s due to the intervals I’m singing. Oh well, it’s an organic process, intuitive. I shouldn’t be surprised by jazz’s influence, or Roderick’s for that matter. He is well-schooled in it. Hmmm. Much the way I worked with previous guitarists, I wrote the melody and then Roderick came up with a chord progression. The other, Nipples, is rather Sonic Youth or Joy Division-ish. I vocalize throughout—verses and choruses—but they are quirky, dictated as they are by the cadence of the poem, producing a song lyric that is highly imagistic, peculiar.

I needed to wallow in a post-show funk for a few days but finally got up the nerve to watch the video of the debut show. I dread watching myself on video, as useful an exercise as it is. Surprise, surprise, I didn’t hate it. The video we shot is so bad though we won’t be able to post it on Myspace or YouTube—the audio is crappy and the colours washed out—but I thought Aural Heather performed well. We “dazzled” according to Pam Southwell of RPW Records and several other people in the audience. I will post a video my dear friend Tom Konyves kindly shot of Nipples. The audio on it isn’t great either but it captures mood well and gave me an idea for harmony parts to add to our backing tracks.

What a night! Audiences don’t know us but if even half the people that said they would come had shown up the place would have been packed. By the end of the evening the club was full though, with a festive, lively atmosphere. I dutifully arrived at the club at six pm for sound check and then waited for Roderick. Sound man Shawn, unlike most, was very friendly and enthusiastic. He played soundtracks from I’m Not There, which I saw and enjoyed very much, and Across The Universe, which I want to see having been highly recommended by several friends.

It’s been a long time since I sat in a rock club waiting on my band. I had nearly forgotten my feelings about sound check, which is that while necessary, the room never sounds the same later in the evening filled with bodies and chatter. Thank god it looks different too. In the dark, with the lights on, a nightclub has ambiance. In afternoon light it just looks shabby and depressing, not to mention the funky smell. Feeling antsy, despite all the chamomile tea I drank, I put on my slippers and continued waiting. New shoes, long-coveted Fluevogs were already hurting my feet. I don’t know how women do it, walk around in high heels all day. Thought I would try to get over my stiletto dread but it didn’t work and turned out to be a bad move, along with the new vintage dress which looked beautiful but wasn’t really appropriate stage wear, mainly because I didn’t feel comfortable so naturally was inhibited. So I will stick to skirts and boots or heels that don’t hobble. Is there such a thing?

Roderick arrived at last, with his lovely paramour, artist/sculptor Lynn Demers. They were staying at the Sheraton Wall Centre so I can understand why they were slow to leave. I heard Roderick ran around their hotel room like a kid, jumping up and down on the bed naked. We set up and worked through sound check. Pam arrived with a box of cds and we documented the momentous occasion with photos. I tried not to pick it apart and just enjoy deliverance at last. I fear the text might be too small, hard to read. The colours are good but the image on the front seems a little distorted, as if you’re looking at it through the bottom of a glass. I could be imagining things. Overall though, it’s beautiful, I have to say.

It was hard to sit and wait all night and our start time kept getting pushed back. I was distracted from my angst by stellar performances by Susan Cormier, Beth Southwell and her band and Kedrick James. Went to the green room for a while, paced, changed my stockings that had already had runs in them. Another torture device—pantyhose. My niece Lisa and her boyfriend Rafael capably manned the merch table. Went back out to visit with friends who made the trek out, some from far away, many distinguished, older men, writers. Hmmm.

Kyle did a swell job of emceeing and was enjoying himself, I could tell. Finally, we got up to do our set. I was pretty nervous but I’m better able to quell my fears now with a mantra and focus on the work at hand. My art. My baby. It was hard to hear and I think I ended up having to shout, feared I may have been a little off key on a couple of tunes but it’s still hard to tell even after watching the video. I need to speak/sing at a normal level, not strain or shout, whether I can hear myself in the monitors or not, otherwise all nuance and inflections are lost. A gaggle of drunken yahoos came in off the street near the end of the set, danced to our last *spong* Whore In The Eddy and demanded an encore. It was hilarious. They would not let us off the stage! I protested that we aren’t a dance band but they were having none of that. We decided to repeat Nipples, just for them. At one point Roderick plied the mike stand with his guitar and they went bonkers. It made for a most memorable launch, a funny topper to the evening.

Had a drink at last and caroused the rest of the evening with all my kooky friends-Randy, aka RC Weslowski, Kedrick James, Rhonda Milne, Susan Cormier, Kyle Hawke, Mark Perrault, Steven Sherer and my main man, Josef. We closed down the Railway, tried to find another nite spot open while we waited for a cab and I ranted, or bitched rather, about the sad state of this one-horse town. We found a Chinese restaurant open. Others in the group claimed it was a gangster haven. I didn’t care, we all went in. It had a weird vibe all right and crappy food. Some dudes against the wall eyeballed us until one came over and said his friend the dentist loved redheads and that I had to come over and meet him. I tried to shoo him away but he was very persistent even though Josef looked him straight in the eye and said, “Yeah, I like that redhead a lot.” Rhonda was already on her way over so I went and said Hello. Creepy guys. I started to panic, said “Okay, well nice meeting you, I’m going back to have something to eat with my husband now,” while Rhonda gabbed with them a bit more. Back at the table she said, “Those guys were weird.” Yeah, no shit sharky. Apparently the dentist reached over and tugged on her dress to look at her breasts! I would have slugged the jerk which could have resulted in an ugly altercation. Good thing I left. Rhonda is adorable and was wearing Kyle’s black top hat that everyone agreed suited her better. With his long, curly, flowing, dark locks Kyle looked like Slash and one Slash is enough!

Kedrick’s singular take on the evening:

In the perpetual Spring, Heather blooming aural heather,
took to the Media Club, brought books and CDs and friends her style
not as Bowen Island but as still so concrete cool, taking a sharp
ended wit to her musical duo’s grinding scronk crunch and broken
howls that take on worlds in their clatter astral baggage, the duo
rocking out a highlight of word zone wilding, best in show.
In true Vancouver fashion we got started late but worth the wait
to see triptop Vancouver poets attend, Jamie Reid, Tom Konyves,
RC Weslowski (what a great audience member, as well) among
them, and so it was, with Susan Cormier kicking things off with her
verbal sculptures all Rauschenberg-like, reading that macaroni letter
of past adventures to rob mclennan (before he gets it) a future pastagram,
and then a band, but I’m bad and went to the smoking pit to prepare
my mind, so I can’t say, and then a perverse warred selection of my
new poems from the endless spew that is my poetic zoo, and then
to Heather’s post-punk-pre-apocalypse perfection. Met wonderful
Vancouver artist Steven Shearer and we all headed off for drinks
at the Railway, chatting with Kyle the stalwart MC DJ jackpot crackpot
spark plug live wire, and kept bevvies abundant till we crawled home
to escape the dawn. In all, a wonderful time-island of word and sound it was.

Photo of Kedrick and a recording of his reading at the launch here:

http://www.kedrickjames.net/poetry/mediaclub/mediaclub.html

The eternal struggle to look good, recent bird spottings, Charles’s MFA in film

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I know why some women “let themselves go.” Looking good is a lot of work! My weight for example. Take my weight. Please. I’ve been struggling with it all my adult life, especially after hitting forty and peri-menopause, which wreaked havoc on my metabolism, mainly by slowing. The pounds creeped on imperceptibly. One day I got on the scale and the needle flew, way, way, way over 150 pounds. At 5’8”, I think my ideal weight is 140 pounds.

I had been thin/pure but was too young and dumb to realize it, always feeling like I was never thin enough, always feeling inadequate in other words. At least I had time to shop and though I couldn’t afford designer labels, was very resourceful and adept at finding highly stylish things to wear. Life was simple. Not so anymore, not with a kid and home schooling and running a household, like this woman in the van in front of me, full of wee ones, including a newborn. She has a look in her eye, like prey. Guess I’ve always suffered from a lack of self-esteem, boo hoo, and now I get to factor in aging as well. Buck up. As they say, aging is not for sissies. At least I have perspective along with the sore feet. My innate fashion sense and high quality garments are more important than ever, thus I spent hours and hours downtown looking for a dress to wear onstage. I’m wiped out!

Thunderstorm last night. Does it explain the vivid dreams I’ve been having? In this one Junior and his pals were seated on a Murphy bed. I was alarmed when I didn’t recognize two of them and asked Junior who they were. He, they, wouldn’t tell me. I got frustrated and closed the bed up, with them inside. I asked Junior to open it again, to give me the key. He laughed, said he didn’t know where it was. He found this very amusing but I was getting scared, on the verge of panic. I couldn’t open it!

Bird enchantment report: I spotted a new species by the feeder yesterday though this guy was on the ground. I thought it was a sea bird but looked it up in my guidebook and found out it was a woodpecker, a female. I get such a thrill every time I successfully identify a species. I can see why people get hooked on birding. Apparently, though most woodpeckers spend most of their time in trees, some will forage on the ground for insects. I was surprised to identify an exotic bird that resembled a parrot as an Evening Grosbeak. The poet in me is equally enchanted with bird names and categories: Loons, Grebes, Shearwaters, Petrels, Boobies, Gannets, Bitterns, Egrets, Spoonbills, Limpkins, Rails, Coots, Lapwings, Plovers, Skuas, Jacanas, Oystercatchers, Stilts, Terns, Skimmers, Auks, Cukoos, Nightjars, Trogons, Tryrant Flycatchers, Shrikes, Vireos, Larks, Wrentits, Verdins, Creepers, Nuthatches, Warblers, Gnatcatchers, Thrashers, Bulbuls, Accentors, Wagtails, Pipits, Tanagers, Towhees, Longspurs, Weavers.

Enjoyed an evening with new friends Tina Schliessler and Charles Wilkinson at their house in Deep Cove where they were celebrating his MFA in film from UBC. Tina is the artist whose phainting graces the cover of our new Aural Heather new cd, Princess Nut. I had the privilege of meeting their many intriguing and fabulous friends and family, including one of Tina’s favourite subjects, her son Pablo. I chatted with Charles about Tina’s enormous talent, humility and ability to put her subjects at ease. He said my face looked different in the flesh. I hope he meant it in a good way and there you have it, the afore mentioned insecurities roiling to the fore once more. Later Charles screened a documentary he directed called Down Here, a portrayal of several women that reside in the downtown eastside. The subject has been covered before yes, notably by my dear friend Lincoln Clarkes’ Heroines project, but Charles’s approach was equally uncompromising, authentic and quite striking with excellent cinematography and editing.

The latest

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I’m tracking six eagles soaring high above, wondering why they have made an appearance. I learned recently that eagles are scavengers as well as predators and so that circling, like vultures, can indicate the presence of death and decay, as in my poem My Mountain below. (Roderick does a stellar job of narrating this piece on Princes Nut.) My bird feeder is such a popular spot I am topping it up every day now. Sometimes and with a guilty conscience, I will chase off the band-tailed pigeons. They are huge and come in droves.

Just as were recovering from an attack on our mail server by a Russian spammer my hubby’s back went out, spazzming as he puts it, for the first time in a over a year. I had succumbed to a rotten cold after several long weeks of allergy afflictions. Great timing. It was our first weekend alone together in months and we were both screwed up. Continue reading →