The Duncan Fremlin Blog

R.I.P. Goober

During our visits to the Tommy Hunter Show back in the early 1980's, we met and performed with many legends.  Billy Meek and Al Simmonds
are two greats who come to mind.  The stars who visited us on the Ol' Back Porch were mostly gracious and great fun to be with.  Ray Stevens was the exception.  He thought we were losers because we didn't know one of his loser songs.  

Perhaps the only visitor who didn't get it was George Lindsey.  
We recorded two and maybe three episodes with him one night.  His job was to come out and be funny for 2 or three minutes and our job was to book end his jokes with a song.  Instead, he came out and spent 2 or 3 minutes promoting George Lindsey.  There was nary a chuckle in his monologue

As a result, his episodes never aired.  I could never figure out if he was just dumb or was overcome with a dose of vanity.  

Too bad really.  I played brilliantly that night and 2 million loyal Tommy Hunter fans did not get to hear me. 

Oh, I forgot to mention.  George (Goober) Lindsey died May 6th.  He was 83.

Carlos Santana, Genius

Of all of the rock legends I grew up enjoying, Carlos has always been a step above the rest, not just in terms of his musicality but more importantly, his life.  He was at Woodstock and he did look wasted like everyone else but this has not his public persona.  Or as he said recently in an interview with Guy Dixon in the Globe and Mail, he is not a "tired camel", like many of his peers from that era.  Ouch.  

He continues, "I feel like a 13 year old.  Everything is very effervescent for me.  Whether it's spirituality or sex or music, I want it to be really full on."  

It shows.

He goes on to say, "I feel like I'm thirsty to play.  I just grab the guitar and remember what it felt like the first time I played it.  And I play it until my fingers are black from the steel."

This is a definition of greatness, be it in business, in life or in music.  

 

I Pine For The Old British Empire

Last night was a flash back to my childhood in the 1950's as we enjoyed an evening at Roy Thompson Hall.  It was a Toronto Symphony Orchestra event called Last Night of the Proms.  In our house and in the small one room country school we attended, our family enjoyed the post war British Empire songs and traditions, all the way from the dreaded tomato aspic to God Save The Queen.  We sadly didn't get to turn our nose up at tomato aspic (good God, who invented that concoction?) but we did enjoy the many verses of God Save The Queen as belted out by the Mendelssohn Choir.  Quite chilling actually.

This annual concert is traditionally an opportunity for the orchestra to be silly with a repertoire of classics (Love and Marriage) and more popular British patriotic pieces (Land of Hope and Glory) in the second half.  That great song, We'll Meet Again was uplifting but the highlight might have been when the entire hall burst into Rule Britannia.  I swear I could see the soldiers travelling the world in the 19th Century pillaging country after country and bringing British commerce to the backward societies who just didn't know any better.  Really made me proud of my British/Scottish heritage. 

The evening began at the new TIFF restaurant across the street where we dined with our friend Kristen Bruya, the TSO's Assistant Principal Bassist.
 Her uncle in Spokane knows my sister Judy who lives in Spokane and one thing led to another... you know how small the world is.  Kristen reserved us tickets - our seats were fantastic (although our view of Kristen wasn't that great) as we sat and sang and enjoyed the show both on stage and off.  The audience was a blast from the past... white haired flag waving elders happily reminiscing to the music and the fun banter from the conductor, Grant Llewellyn.

Grant asked for everyone who has been married for over 50 years (to the same person) to stand up and guess what?  The entire hall (except Karen and I) stood up.  That gives you a pretty good idea of the demographic in attendance.  

Classical music has this annoying habit of taking themselves and their music seriously.  This attitude flies in the face of Whiskey Jack's attitude that nothing is sacred and all must be mocked and made fun of.  Well, last night, the TSO and the MC had the Whiskey Jack gene because they played and played all night.  During the clarinet solo, the choir read newspapers and talked amongst themselves.  Now, who hasn't wanted to do that during the clarinet solo?

During intermission, Kristen took me back stage to meet a bluegrass fiddler who dabbles in classical music (or is it the other way around?).  Her name is Leslie Dawn Knowles.  Check out her video on her website and decide for yourself. If you've ever been to see the TSO, she's the glamorous fiddler in the front.  You can't miss her.  I'll have to figure out some way to get her on stage with Whiskey Jack at the Cadillac Lounge in the fall.  

 

Stompin' Tom's 75th Birthday Party

I have to thank the great bluegrass bass player Eric Jackson for describing exactly why Saturday night was such a great night.  Wrote Eric, "Tom, Lena and Tom are really nice, down to earth folks."  He was referring to Stompin' Tom, Mrs Stompin' Tom and Tom Jr.

I've known this family so long I think I forgot just how genuine they are.  Given Tom's success and fame, it's impressive that he and his family have not lost any of their true values.  It was an old time country party and they don't get better than that.

It had everything.  Lots of reminiscing with old friends.  Lots of beer (only Moosehead served thank you very much).  Fantastic music (I'll get to that later).  Lots of dancing.  The coolest bar in Ontario with just enough second hand smoke to make the night memorable.  Most importantly, it had very welcoming hosts.  

As the night grew to an end, out came the sandwiches and coffee and thankfully, the most under appreciated food item on the planet, devilled eggs.  Why don't more of us serve this delicacy?  I ate 4.  If they had been pickled eggs, I would have eaten 5 and probably been sleeping on the couch in the basement for a week.

I was joined on stage by an aged but exquisite group of Canadian bluegrass musicians with credentials coming out of their ears.  On bass, as I mentioned, was Eric Jackson, one of the earlier members of the legendary Humber River Valley Boys circa the mid 1970's.  The guitarist was Chris Coole, the youngest and most famous of the group.  Chris is one of Canada's (maybe even the world's) finest clawhammer old time banjo player who also plays guitar and sings like there's no tomorrow.  It was real thrill for me to finally play with Chris and the bonus was to play a two banjo rendition of Soldier's Joy.  That D chord never sounded better.

My old Stompin' Tom touring buddy was the mandolin/fiddle player Conrad Kipping.  Connie sang some great tunes, many of them Tom's creations (Ballad of Wilf Carter) and as always picked his instruments with abandon.  It's a joy to be on stage with this man.  

Rounding out the house band (that I jokingly referred to as The Knobs and The Tubes), was arguably Canada's most excellent country/bluegrass fiddler (and part time member of Whiskey Jack), Randy Morrisson.  As a tribute to the late Graham Townsend,  who many of us toured with on the 1993 Stompin' Tom cross country marathon tour, Randy performed a rather lengthy medley of Graham tunes... Wow.  He brought the house down.  

A special musical guest who happened to be in the audience was another Canadian bluegrass legend, dobro player/guitarist Al Widmeyer.  Al sang a couple of genuine "piss and moan" country tunes that you'll never hear on Canadian radio.

I couldn't get this grin off my face as I viewed the audience from my perch on the official Stompin' Tom chair that I borrowed and saw the smiling faces of Tom's long time tour manager, Rockland Entertainment's Brian Edwards.  Next to Brian was Deanne Cameron, the President and CEO of EMI Music Canada, Tom's official record executive.  In fact it was Deanne who first signed Tom to his Capital/EMI contract when he made his big come back in 1990.     Deanne laughed and smiled the night away obviously quite entertained by this great bunch of pickers.  Then of course there was Brian's sister Ella who's seen her share of highway and the official STC body guards, Randy and Frank.  Yes, it was a fabulous night.

Thanks Tom, Lena and Tom Jr.

 

Professional Author?

Never in my wildest imagination could I have anticipated receiving payment for one of my essays.  But it happened.

I submitted an essay recently to Banjo Newsletter and it was published,  What a thrill!  Then, shortly thereafter, I receive a complimentary copy of what will now be my favourite issue (October, 2010) and lo and behold, there was a check for $60.00.  

I know that the Nitchie family from Maryland have been publishing this magazine for over 35 years and I also know they are not getting rich for their efforts.  So, I wrote to Spencer Nitchie.

Spencer:

What a surprise to receive the copy of BNL and the check for $60.00!  Many thanks.

However, I'm not going to cash it.  I wrote the article with great pleasure and did not expect it to be published.  That in itself is payment enough.

BNL has been an important part of my music life for as long as I've been playing the banjo and am pleased to finally contribute something to my fellow banjoists.  I'm not sure anyone benefited from my musings but it was therapeutic to have written them.

Much obliged.

Duncan

p.s.  when I mentioned to my guitar player that I received a check for $60.00 he said "that's two gigs worth".  Sad to say, he was right.  We don't make a lot of money these days but then, perhaps that's why we enjoy it so much (there's a topic for an article perhaps)."

Today, his brother Donald replied:

Much appreciated, every little bit helps us these days. And maybe an article about the life of a gigging banjo player, and why you enjoy it

Donald"

Mmmm.  Maybe this can happen again.

As a follow up to my encounter with radio personality George Jonescu, I mailed him a Whiskey Jack CD. He countered with this email:

"Just concluded a most enjoyable hour and a half listening to Whiskey Jack. So true, so cleverly original,and outstanding musicianship. I am so impresssed I'm going to find a way to feature a tune on my Sunday Night show on am 740. The tightness of vocals is outstanding. I could praise on and on, but would be gilding the lily. For now, thank you so much."

I must use the phrase "gilding the lily" in conversation today. Maybe I'll even use it every day for a week or two.

Things to do before I'm placed in a pine box

My list of things to do before I die is short.  I've lived a blessed life and can't bitch too much about not fulfilling my dreams.  However, there were two fantasies that have been eating at me over the years.  I wanted to be accomplished enough on the 5-string banjo to either record an instrumental CD or at least host a concert featuring the tunes I've learned over the years.  Secondly, I've yearned to have an essay printed in the Facts & Arguments page of the Globe and Mail.  Yesterday, I eliminated both.  I've decided I'll never be good enough on the banjo and the story I wrote about on that topic was published in the Globe and Mail.

While I've written many essays with that in mind, I never submitted any of them.  They either weren't good enough or the subject was weak.  Until last week.

I finally sent in an essay and a very few days later, to my surprise, it was published.  I was very excited to view the illustration that accompanied the piece and I hope the artist, Alexei Vella doesn't mind that I'm showing it here. 

The emails I received from readers were numerous and great fun to read.  I'll publish some of these later.  But the best fun of all was reading the on-line comments by anonymous Globe readers.  Last time I looked, there were 16 opinions on the essay and each was thrilling for me, if for no other reason that they took the time to write them.

If you're curious, check them out here.

Bad Dream with Happy Ending

It was the nightmare that wouldn't end. 

I could be referring to Brian Mulroney (the chin that wouldn't end) but I'm actually talking about the Meech Lake accord.  It was 20 years ago today that Elijah Harper, the native Member of Parliament in the Manitoba Legislature stood up and said "no" to this contract, a constitution for the entire country, drafted, in secret, by a very few white male politicians.  I simply can't recall if there were any exceptions to this demographic but I think not. 

Mulroney harped on for years afterward, in his spiteful way, that Clyde Wells, the Newfoundland Premier was the saboteur of his treasured accord but we all know it was Elijah.  I remember feeling such relief and happiness that day. 

It has been a miserable few years in this country.  We had endured one of the worst (and as it turns out, most crooked) Prime Ministers in our short history.  Every day, this man would do or say something that made the country despise him more and more.  This hate eventually destroyed the Conservative Party of Canada as we knew it and fed the roots of the new Reform Party (which we now have in power in Ottawa).  Meech Lake was simply the catalyst that destroyed Mulroney's government and made all these changes occur.

The only really great thing that came out of this failed constitutional exercise was the resurgence in the career of Stompin' Tom Connors.  I spent months tour the country with him when this fiasco was finally over and he broadcast to all that would listen that it was this Accord and Mulroney that inspired him to get off his duff and begin touring again.  Meech frightened us all but none so profoundly as Tom. 

As it turned out, his return was the salve that helped the country begin to heal.  Night after night, his audience  would be weeping as he slammed Mulroney from the stage.  They'd line up for hours after the show to shake his hand, to talk to him.

Yes, when I think of Meech Lake, I think of Stompin' Tom.  Thanks Brian.

Up Close and Personal with a Genius

Imagine what it would be like to have known Mozart!  To have played music for him.  To have played music with him.  I wonder if his contemporaries knew of his genius?  Yes, of course they must have.  There was only one of his ilk and his specialness will never be duplicated - a freak of nature.   How could someone be that good and write such exquisite melodies?  How could someone be so prolific over such a short period of time?

Who is the Mozart of the art world?  Michaelangelo?  Yes, I suppose he would be the one.  Not all disciplines will boast a genius. I doubt there'll ever be a genius Realtor - at least I hope not.  A genius plumber?  Not likely.  Can't see it happening.  For sure there will never be a genius consultant or a genius soldier.

I spent time this past weekend with a genius, the Mozart of the banjo world.  I knew of his skill and creativity before the weekend began.  I had seen him perform and have enjoyed his music for quite some time.  But I didn't understand the magnitude of his genius last Saturday morning.

It all began on Friday night.  I joined an impromptu jam session, not knowing who was going to be there.  As it turns out, the genius I'm writing of, Jens Kruger and his band were leading this musical ride.  Jens, his brother Ewe and their bass player, Joel Landsberg led a group of 8 or so aspiring banjo players (of which I was one) and we all played music together well into the evening. 

At first, it was unreal.  The generosity of these musicians was surreal.  It was hard to believe this was happening.  They made the 8 of us feel like we were part of their band.  They did everything they could to make us sound good.  Their glee at making music together was catagious.  All this in spite of the fact they were exhausted from teaching numerous classes, performing at the nightly concert ... over 14 hours on the job that day.  Yet, they were exuberant and encouraging and joyful as they played song after song, enticing each of us to be an integral part of the music.

But it was on Saturday morning, only hours after we all said good night, that the real magic happened.  Jens led a small class on "composition".    For two hours, he spoke about his songs and his approach to music.  He even had the class, players of all levels, accompany him on one of his more enchanting songs entitled Beautiful Nothing.   His approach to composing is to begin with a simple musical phrase and expand on the idea by crafting a pleasing melody.  His other wise words were... "sing what you play".  In other words, don't just learn the fretboard (or the keyboard) visually and intellectually, but use your ears.

He told a wonderful story about teaching improvisation to a class of classically trained music students.  To make a point, he selects one student and ask him/her to play, in any key, Happy Birthday.  He has yet to find a student who could do it.   In fact, he's seen students become enraged and walk out in a snit. 

It's one thing to be a genius.  It's an entirely different thing to be able to share this with pedestrians like me.

Banjoitis

I'm scheduling this to appear while I am immersed in a dream world brought on by a fatal disease called banjoitis.  This non viral condition hits one out of every three trillion people and I'm one of it's victims.  The dream world I'm talking about is a banjo camp in Olivet Michigan where hundreds of banjoitis patients will converge and while-away the days thinking breathing, eating and absorbing all things banjo.  Many of the best banjo players in the world will be in Olivet and believe me, they're a fun bunch who really know how to have a good time (I just have to make sure we don't talk politics or religion).. 

I experienced one of these before in Buckystown Maryland many years ago and it changed my life.  How you might ask?  My "pull offs" improved immensely.  This time, I'm hoping to return with better "hammer-ons". 

Therefore, I'd like to advise all friends, family members and music associates that as of next week, they will know a "new" Duncan Fremlin. 

To my friends, if I seem to be drifting away during a conversation and you're feeling like maybe I'm not paying attention to your profound opinions and thoughts, rest assured it has nothing to do with the inane content of your sentences.  I'm simply thinking of something more meaningful.

To my family, if I seem to be exhibiting strange and unusual behavior during simple mundane events like eating and driving, I ask that you "leave me the hell alone.  I'm thinking". 

To my music associates, LOOK OUT!  If you think last week's version of Frankie and Johnny was fast, hey, you ain't seen nothin' yet.  To my guitar player Bob, be warned that your chord chuckin' right hand will fall off before the end of the third chorus and to Howard on harmonica, that hernia you've always wanted will pop out in the first set.

Funny thing.... I asked a few people to come with me but there were no takers.  Go figure.