September '25

Hi Folks.. and happy Labour Day weekend. ( My American friends, I believe that all your troubles started when you dropped the 'u' in labour!)

Hope you had a half decent August. I got to spend a good amount of time at my northern floating palace, the Eramosa Belle.. and I've got some new tunes to show for it that I'll be sharing anon. Here's a sunset shot taken from onboard the boat. The sky and the water were collaborating on an art installation . See below where I used this image for the lyric video to a song I wrote there.

Just a few things to report for September starting with the GUELPH LABOUR DAY PICNIC Monday Sept 1st at the Riverside Park picnic area. 11 am to 2 pm.. free admission and there's food and refreshments. There are a number of local musicians. I'm not sure yet what my start time is.. so come and hang out! It looks like it's going to be a bright, yes a bright, sunshiny Day.

Sept. 14th in the morning I'll be the guest speaker at the Unitarian Congregation, on York Road here in Guelph,. talking and singing about the value of community and heritage. Jeez I better get working on that!

Sept 16th I'll be in Woodstock Ontario at the Woodstock Museum National Historic Site as part of their "Lunch And Learn" series at 11 am ... so if you make it through my presentation you get lunch as your prize! I'm getting kind historic myself so it's a good fit.. Here's the deal. Some of you Ontarians will remember that I had a weekly feature on CBC radio’s Ontario Morning show, called “Hometown Tunes” – where listeners would send in letters based on cool things about their towns, mostly small towns. I’d take the best letters and turn them presto chango into little ditties that I would perform live in the Toronto Studios each week, usually at 7:30 am! It so happens that two of those songs came from Woodstock, one juicy murder ballad and one about their legendary Town Crier. ( Why did they never have a Town Laugher?) So I’ll be talking about the process I went through creating the songs and sharing some of them. This is a test. I’ve saved all the letters from listeners and I’m slowly putting together a “Hometown Tunes” book, and I’d like to tour with that show when the book comes out. If you’re in Ontario, chances are I have a song about YOUR town.

Then, back in Guelph, on Sept. 20^th and 21^st, it’s the 3^rd annual Praise the Ward Festival, celebrating my own neighbourhood, The Ward. This funky part of town has so many musicians and artists that we though a good party was called for. I’m the artistic director, dontcha no. It’s a labour of love for my ‘hood. Lots of cool stuff to do for the whole family. Tickets and info at praisetheward.com ​

You might spot me playing cornet with the Ward Marching Band and taking part in the big mashup jam session that closes Saturday night.

Then I’ve got studio work and I’ll be prepping for my October tour of the not-so-united States of America. I know I know, some of you have expressed concerns about going in these troubled times. I’ve been touring there for over 40 years and I’ve always had a great connection with the folk scene there. So, if they let me over the border I’ll be returning for shows in New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Michigan and Wisconsin. I simply don’t want the bullies to win, and I’m honoured ( though I’ll be ‘honored’ there ) that the promoters are all welcoming the musical perspective I’ll be able to offer. I’ll go into more details next month, but you can see my itinerary on the website HERE. It wasn’t my intention, but as part of the trip I’ve been invited to perform my new one-man musical “Smashing The Oligarchy” close to the Belly of the Beast, Washington DC, at the Greenbelt Arts Centre. Now THAT’s going to be interesting!

It saddens me to say it, but it may be my last trip to the U.S.- The regime of the Mad King has decreed that the work visas needed to perform there, which already cost a whopping 1000 dollars and took 6 months to get, are now going to be upwards of FOUR thousand dollars and take a year to process. Basically that’s just a way to say “don’t come”. Here’s hoping for so many reasons that things will change.

Looking ahead, I’ll be heading to Canada’s Maritime provinces to do a short tour with Connie Murch. Still some dates to fill if any of you have any ideas. More about that next month.

I’m grateful to you fine Newsletter receivers after I advertised my Studio Special for recording here at Val’s Garage. I’ve had a couple of great clients with more to come. I’m short on time for the fall now, but we could squeeze you in to this cozy space.

AND.. for your Video of the month.. .just completed today, here's a lyric video of my new song "Caught Up In the Hurly Burly" . I think I managed to make it kinda pretty- needed in these ugly times.

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That's about it. Thanks as always for listening and reading. Always lots of updates on Facebook and on jamesgordon.ca ​

And for your road tale of the month: heres's an American gig story since I'm heading there soon. It's from my "The Highway and I" collection of road stories. ( Why, wouldn't ya know, it's available, along with an overabundance of my books and recordings, at jamesgordonmusic.bandcamp.com)

A tale about battling with a waterfall in Jackson Michigan, performing with my old friend Sandy Horne:

Sandy and I travelled to Jackson, Michigan to give an afternoon concert at the “Cascades Park”.

Jackson, birthplace of the Republican Party, seemed like a fairly typical

Mid-American town. Typical, it turns out, except for “The Cascades”.

Before making the trek, the promoter of the event had faxed an unusual

inquiry. Apparently the stage for the performance was at the base of a

waterfall. Did I want the waterfall turned on or off?

I’m not often given this choice. In making my decision in this matter, I

imagined that since this waterfall could be ‘turned on or off’- it must be of the

variety found sometimes on miniature golf courses or in front of office

buildings. My guess was that the water feature in question would be a

distraction from the center of attention- ME- so I requested that the ‘cascade’ be turned off.

Arriving at the park, we discovered that the waterfall, in fact, WAS the

park. A huge art deco monstrosity from the 1930’s, it tumbled down a

hundred-foot tall hill through extensive spillways and ponds, surrounded by

European-style fountains.

It was a big deal.

Built by a millionaire philanthropist and car horn mogul as a gift to his

hometown, a plaque at the entrance gates proclaimed:

“More than any other structure in Jackson, the Cascades is the

monument of beauty and distinction that has been a source of enjoyment and fond memories to the millions of people who have visited it for over sixty years.”

Through the gates, facing the falls, was a 2000-seat amphitheatre

where happy patrons could sit, eat popcorn, and watch the falls, particularly at night when a spectacular light display, cued to music, enhanced the experience.

At the base of the falls, where under normal circumstances the falling

waters would turn into a rushing stream, there was a stage set up for us, just at the point where the water disappears underground, to be pumped back to the top of the falls for perpetual encore performances.

Though it was still 90 minutes till show-time, groups of tourists were

gathered at the gates, each looking forlorn when told that the falls were

turned off for the day.

Our host for the concert was having a tough time convincing visitors that a folksinger was going to be as interesting as the Cascades.

“People come from all over the country to see this”, she said as we

started to set up in the scowling glare of disappointed waterfall aficionados.

A large man in a park uniform approached. His name tag indicated that

he was the “Chief Falls Operator”. His eyes narrowed from beneath his

baseball cap and he drawled-

“You the guy that asked for the waterfall to be turned off?”

I turned around, hoping he was blaming someone else, but I had to

confess that I was the culprit.

“People come from all over the country to see this”- he said, a line that

would be repeated often by anyone within earshot over the next while.

“It looks like it would be really noisy” I offered.

“Real pretty, though” he countered. “Real pretty”.

I hesitated.

“I’ll tell you what”, he said. “It’s half an hour till showtime. It takes 15

minutes to get this thing cranked up, and 15 minutes to shut ‘er down. If you

don’t like it, I’ll shut it off for ya”.

I looked at the assemblage, who now had glimmers of hope on their

increasingly sun-burned faces.

“O.K.”, I responded, to a smattering of applause.

With this good news, people started to take their seats as Sandy and I

turned to watch the approaching deluge. As the fountains started to spray and a tidal wave moved closer, the first thing we noticed was that waterfalls create a fair bit of wind. Anything onstage that wasn’t attached firmly started to blow away. We had to lean into the gale to keep from being hurled towards the audience. Then we noticed the sound.

Waterfalls are loud. This one, I’ll wager, was louder than most, since it

tumbled down a dozen concrete-covered levels, ending just twenty feet from us. I shouted to Sandy, who had trouble hearing me over the noise-”What are we going to do?”

She pointed to the gathering crowd.

They were all smiling happily.

There’s a theory about waterfalls that they release extra oxygen into

the air, so that anyone near gets a bit giddy with the sensation. This crowd was blissing out on us already. Though the falls hadn’t yet reached their maximum effect, the ‘chief’ looked at me expectantly.

Above the growing din, he shouted one more “People come from all over the country to see this” before I gave a sigh, flashed him the thumbs up sign, and basked briefly in the most enthusiastic applause I would get for the rest of the day.

The Chief thanked me, and added- “There’s music that goes with it you

know!” I told him he was pushing his luck, and we began to make our own music, which wasn’t synchronized to the dancing fountains at all.

Having done our sound-check ‘pre-waterfall’-- the sound guy turned

everything up a few notches and we began. Sandy and I couldn’t really hear each other, so I’d have to say that we’ve played better, but those sitting in the sun in front of us seemed to be enjoying themselves in spite of us.

Two songs in, we were getting accustomed to the challenging environment, when we looked out and saw that the gaze of the crowd had shifted away from the falls and into the sky.

Turns out there was even more competition. Not only was the park

playing host to the annual hot-air balloon festival, but the Jackson airport was holding an airshow featuring vintage fighter planes. As balloons floated by, soon the sound of dive-bombing bi-planes could actually be heard above the roar of the falls.

I felt that we were really interrupting the entertainment by insisting on

playing, but we pressed on. In between dogfights in the air people

occasionally appeared to be listening to us.

After a while, the mood of the happy crowd seemed to shift. The

problem was that it was really hot out, there was no shade over the

amphiteatre, and no one in Jackson Michigan owned a hat. Some held their programmes over their heads, but I could tell they weren’t going to last long.

To the relief of all, I announced an early break and they all ran for cover.

We chatted to fans for a bit, and watched the airshow. One man asked

me how long my wife had been playing the bass. When I answered “my wife can’t play the bass”, he took this as a rather harsh criticism of Sandy’sabilities.

After a respite where the falls were able to assume their proper pre-

eminence, we started the second half of our show to a much-reduced crowd, though the sun was now covered with dark clouds.

Two songs into the second half, we could see that these clouds were looking quite serious. They were accompanied by a wind even stronger than that produced by the falls.

Because I’m getting old and forgetful, and I’ve written too many songs, I keep a binder on a music stand with maybe 200 songs in it. Mid-way through a song that actually mentioned waterfalls, a gust of wind picked up the binder and plopped it on the concrete in front of me, bursting it open and sending a different kind of cascade flowing towards the crowd. It was a waterfall of songs, my life’s work swirling in the air, competing quite admirably with the falls, the fountains, the balloons and the planes. As they settled on the ground, (and fortunately, not in the water)- the sound and stage crew

performed a kind of clumsy ballet, fetching pages and returning them to the stage. My new rule is “the show doesn’t necessarily have to go on” so I stopped to join them while Sandy fended for herself onstage.

By the time most of the paper was retrieved, the audience, ( which was down to a brave dozen-or-so by now)- was looking really nervous.

Finally admitting defeat, I thanked the assemblage, announced one

more song and started gamely in to it as a deafening crack of thunder and a blinding display of lightning provided a perfect climax to the program.

The die-hard few still in their seats bolted for the gates. Sandy and I, covered by a small canopy, hurried to pack away our instruments as the skies opened up. We hurled our gear into the patiently waiting Miss Sue Baru, hopped in and looked behind us as the canopy strained under the weight of the downpour. The rain came down with such speed and force that the edges of the canopy were soon engulfed in a dramatic flow that looked just like

a...... waterfall!