Noired at the Bard

I felt just like George Bailey.

Last week’s Noir at the Bar at the Irish Heather Shebeen was a lot of fun. My whole crew turned up, Nicole, my kids, my parents, amazing. To be surrounded by my people who matter the most was a real swell thing. On top of that, a couple of surprise guests showed up. Elvis Costoiko, the boy legend of Regina, came through and it’s always such a treat to hang out with him.

Another figure from my adolescence showed up and I was so wildly impressed. I remain in awe of Jay Hails, who I first encountered as the golden-maned rock god frontman of the Ecchoing Green, a Saskatoon folk rock combo I used to see play down by the river and occasionally at the Unitarian Centre. Definitely this was the band I went to see the most from ages 13 to 15 (when I moved to Regina). This is where I learned my lifelong love for live music.

It was at the Unitarian Centre—and surely not one of the civic pride events down by the river—where I saw them play “Heroin.” I was 14. had been introduced to the Velvet Underground less than a year earlier, by my Eighth Grade teacher Jeff Cunanan. I was already way into Lou Reed, and along with my final report card, he handed me a couple of duped cassettes, with White Light/White Heat and Live 1969 (in Dallas), maybe the first album? Maybe it was just one cassette. It was a long time ago. 1991.

The Ecchoing Green didn’t really sound anything like the Velvet Underground, but they did have a fiddler, which kind of approximated John Cale’s viola. Like, through a certain lens, at least that first album, the Velvets were folk-rock? I dunno. Regardless. I had known about the Velvet Underground for maybe 3 months and none of my peers did, and then here was this really good, charismatic rock band who talked about Romantic poets not only knew them too, but covered one of their freakiest songs. This electrified my brain. I felt like I was inside of cool.

Of course, I wasn’t. I was a dorky, impulsive kid with no cool whatsoever. Cool was the white whale, I was Ahab. I remain Ahab, unswerved.

Grade 9 English, we had to write a paper about a poem of our choosing. I chose “Heroin” and included in my paper what Jay had said in pre-song about not knowing if the song was pro- or anti- drugs. I think I subconsciously mimicked some Kerouac in that one too, which I had read that year. I got a very good mark, and even better, I got laudatory comments, not just from my English teacher but from another English teacher, to whom my teacher had shown the report. It was one of those “hey, kid, keep writing” moments.

So, you know, Jay Hails, who I went to see so many times, came to see me read. Me, George Bailey.

I try not to stick my my head up too often. I have unfinished writing to finish. I want to have books for Pulp Fiction to put on the counter when I do a reading. And for sure, like KC Constantine told me, writing is the gig. But hell damn shit, getting out and reading with a bunch of really cool writers was fun. Sean Cranbury read a sizzling bit about DTES circa 2000, Sarah M. Stephen (who went to the same high school as me!) read about steam engines on a collision course, JG Chayko read a juicy bit with a twist ending, Craig Bowlsby read a cyberpunky-noir with a great concept and tons of fun future-lingo, Shane Joaquin Jimenez read a nasty little piece of pitch noir, Magnus Skallagrimsson put us in a Montreal precinct house after a fight, Charles Demers traced the origins of GOOF, John Farrow/Trevor Ferguson read this riveting dialogue between two characters about doing time standing on your head, and Deitrich Kalteis, just an all-around cool hand of the genre, read an excerpt from Dirty Little War about a Prohibition-era boxer who didn’t take a dive. I got to sit in a dark bar and rub elbows with this crowd for a few hours. Sorry but that rules.

The absolute best thing is that, through no fault of their own, no fault of anyone, Elvis and Jay both missed my reading. But they did see people say nice things about it. Now I’m the legend.

(after the Ecchoing Green, Jay Hails led the Drowned, who I saw in Salmon Arm in 1996)

Many thanks to all who attended and read, especially Magnus who organized the whole thing

I wouldn’t leave you without at least one book recommendation: Visions and Temptations, by Harald Voetmann. An 11th Century Bavarian monk lies on his death bed and, by turns and/or simultaneously, experiences the indignities of having a failing body and takes a guided tour through Heaven and Hell. It’s written and translated in breezy style and full of horrible, gruesome, disgusting details. Lots of fun. Third of a trilogy. I haven’t read either previous book, and it didn’t diminish my enjoyment of Vs & Ts, but I imagine reading them would greatly enhance enjoyment of this book and life in general.