My First 21k

            On Sunday I ran my first half marathon. Don’t worry, this isn’t one of those inspiring “look how far I’ve come” stories. More like one of those “gee, I did something pretty cool but really should have a long time ago” stories. I’ve been a serious runner for over a decade, and I’m in much better shape in my early thirties than I was in my early twenties. Recently, say the past two years or so, I’ve been a bit more of a fanatic—I think the tell for this is when you start investing substantial dollars on “equipment” in a sport that really only requires shoes.

            Despite that, at 5’10” and 190lbs means I have almost the exact wrong body time for running, it’s been my chief activity for the past few years. Add to this that years of sports, farming and general thoughtless male stupidity have caused me enough aches and pains that 21 kilometres can be seen as a much greater risk for injury than the 5 to 15 I usually do a few times per week.

            I didn’t go in timid, though, I went in confident. Thought I’d share some thoughts about the experience of running the Calgary Half Marathon while fresh:

-I usually run at night. I don’t like doing it in the morning before work because I always feel the stress of time; I like to have an open end. The gun for the marathon was at 7am, which means I was up at four to get to the city in time to be there for a good warm up. Ugh.

-I had some nerves, sure. I mean, the only time I had run this distance before (while timed—I’d done it lots over greater lengths of time), I’d done it at a fair pace of 5m45s/km, on my own, and the last three kilometres I’d found a tremendous struggle. My hoped time for the race was 2h5m, but I was very concerned about exhaustion at the end. I should point out that on long runs I’m a chronic under-hydrater. But a full time moniker-maker-upper . . .

-There were nearly 10,000 people involved Sunday, running or walking 5k, 10k, 21k, or the masochists on the 42k. Like I said, I normally run alone—though I’d come in with some friends who are members of a running group in town. The initial 3k after the gun was just about threading through the crowds, jockeying for position, and not trying to be too rude as you passed people. Oh, and trying to find the damn pace bunny. More on that in a bit. The mass of people clogging the route had me pretty dejected at first, but that wore off as people started to hit strides or lose steam.

-I run to music. Apparently, the purists frown upon this, as in any sport you play it should be work—you shouldn’t be entertained. Whatever. I love running, but for 21k, things can get boring and I don’t want to just listen to myself breath or people’s feet clumping. With two little kids at home, it’s rare I get two straight hours for my tunes anyway.

-When I run alone, I don’t carry water. This is fine for short distances, but has cost me in anything over 10k. It was the story of my big collapse a month ago when practising this distance. Every 3k along the route, though, there were water and Gatorade stations. What a difference—water really is fuel.

-Running is a no glory sport, but the people of Calgary did their best to support us. People lined the route in places, cheering and holding signs, using noise-makers, and there were bands every once in a while. The whole thing was festive. Everyone on the route was appreciative of the others. I felt guilty for how long it had taken me to race, as I’ve been ready for years. For some people this was a real milestone. I’m not a real fan of Calgary at the best of times, but the city earned my kudos during this marathon.

-I normally practise 10/1s (run ten minutes, briskly walk one), but abandoned this right away. I just didn’t need the breaks. I decided that all I would do was walk twenty seconds at the water tables, ensuring I didn’t spill. I was using my Garmin to check my lap pace every 7k, and discovered I had improved my time on the second seven. I was going too easy. The hydrating made a difference, and this got me thinking.

-I referred to pace bunnies. These are expert runners who wear pink rabbit ears indicating the time they will finish. Follow them, know your pace. My intent at the gun was to keep the 2h bunny in my sights, but I lost him in the throng near the zoo. Then, at about the 14k mark, I passed the 1:55 bunny. Sure now that I was taking things too easy, I pushed myself to increase my per kilometre pace up by 20 seconds for the rest of the race.

-With 3k left to go, Pearl Jam’s “Alive” came over my headphones. Providential.

-I came in with two friends who’ve been doing this for years. One of them is a running addict, whose positive demeanour is inspiring, and he’s a wonderful cheerleader. The other is a pure athlete, one of the greatest I’ve ever met, all the more impressive for his “awe-shucks” approach to running, swimming, biking. They finished about a minute apart in the 1h30 range. When they saw me come in, they shot back to the finish line to congratulate me. This was old hat for them, another race, but they wanted to be part of my “I did it” moment when I crossed. They wanted to share in that, but they were also proud because  . . .

-I’d aimed for 2h5m, and came in at 1:53.10. My best pace of 5:30/k I’d improved to 5:07. It’s not record-breaking, but ahead is always better than behind.

Should have done it years ago. I didn’t need the race, the competition. For me, running is something I like to lose myself in. When I was done, I felt good about myself, but it wasn’t an achievement with finality. It was a start. I regretted that I had waited too long to kick it up, and am already considering how I’ll do this next time—before the snow flies.

Vote, Sucka

The Canadian Federal Election is tomorrow and you have decided not to vote. It might be out of apathy or laziness. It might be that you have your justifications, which might just be you rationalizing your apathy and laziness.

            Regardless, a small but vocal group of you out there have declared that you’re exercising your right to do nothing because it’s the right thing to do, nothing.

            You’re wrong. Here’s why:

1.      “I’m too busy to vote.”

Listen, your employer must grant you the time to go to the polls. It’s the law. There were also advanced polls over Easter Weekend (that, happily, saw a 34% increase from 2008).

Cut the crap: You’re lazy. Go vote, and get a coffee while you’re out. Enjoy the rest of your day.

2.      “I forgot.”

Really? You missed the month of news pieces, the signs decorating every boulevard in town, the coffee-room discussions? You know when every NHL playoff game is, when American Idol or The Bachelor come on, and yet somehow you missed election day?

Cut the crap: It’s tomorrow.

3.      “It just doesn’t matter.”

Yeah, I’ve always felt that doing nothing yields much greater results than doing something. Many parties in many ridings are glad you feel this way. If more people turned out to vote, your MP would have to start listening to a broader range of voices, because he needs to garner a broader range of votes, now that you decided to show. Rather than just seniors.

Cut the crap: Be the change, whiney.

4.      “I don’t know the issues and I don’t trust the news.”

Do a little damn research, then. Take five minutes of your Angry Birds time or wait until Survivor’s in commercial, go online and look at party platforms. Decide what matters to you. Health care? Economy? Tuition costs?

Cut the crap: Get off your ass and learn something.

5.      “Politicians are all just liars and crooks.”

Stated from your well-founded and learned opinion, the one that said you don’t know anything. Yes, they’re politicians, which means the majority are a little morally wonky. However, Canada still has one of the cleanest governing systems in the world. Your vote can actually do something. Try getting that in Mexico. Don’t give the dudes in ties the excuse to be more corrupt because you can’t be bothered to influence them.

Cut the crap: The only way to keep them honest is through action.

6.      “It’s not that I don’t care—I care too much. The system is broken.”

I might entertain this view if I ever heard it backed up with facts. Too bad it’s just another excuse for being lazy. Look, I’m not married to this system or anything—I’d much rather see a popular vote system—but the current one can work. If you vote, then lobby your MP to change, it’s effective.

Cut the crap: Take part, then enact reform.

7.      “Where I live, people always vote the same way, anyway.”

I hear ya. The riding I’ve lived in for the past eight years sees its incumbent take 80-90% of the votes, and I’ve never voted for the guy. Is it a little disheartening? Sure. But if our whole riding turned out on May 2^nd, he’d easily drop to about 65%, and that would make him sweat. And when they sweat, they listen. Apply that to his whole party now. That’s  democratic efficacy.

Cut the crap: This is current events, not history.

8.      “They all sound the same.”

Really? Have you read their platforms? Have you studied anything beyond TV and radio sound bites? Have you called your MP or his opposition and asked them tough questions? Do the research, make a decision, go with it.

Cut the crap: They wouldn’t be parties if that were true.

9.      “My identity is not an ideology.”

Neither is mine. But I have wants for my country, for my province, for my kids. For the future. I know what I don’t want and I know what I like. No, there’s no party in existence that meets my needs 100%. Even my wife wouldn’t vote for that party. They need a broader appeal. Compromise a little, find the closest party, vote.

Cut the crap: Your mom should’ve cut you off a little sooner, coddle kid.

10.  “Who cares?”

What you’re ignoring is something Canadians died to preserve in World War 2, which Libyans are currently dying to get, and which every adult Canadian should be forced to exercise on penalty of jail time.

Cut the crap: See above.

A parting shot, from a man much smarter than me: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MhgYhcTl95w&feature=youtu.be

My Trip to the Apple Store

            I went to an Apple store for the first time yesterday.

          
            I needed a very specific kind of USB cable, and was also interested in an iPod specific remote thingy for my headphones. I was at the mall, and I saw that shiny, white, sterile store. I figured what the hell. The only times I’d ever noted the place before was when glancing at the huge line-ups the day the latest iThing was released. Today, I’d enter the place that was many a techie’s Mecca.

Maybe no line-up, but it was still a fair busy place. I paused just inside, taking in the gleam, the glare, the glass. The plastic white-ness. It was like being inside the head of EVE from Wall-E. It smelled like . . . well, it didn’t smell. I imagined this place at night, where no cleaning staff entered, but instead the ceiling sprinklers doused the place in sanitizer.

I own an iPod. It’s a classic 80 gig.

“Classic.” I got it in 2007.

I also own a 3GS iPhone—which means it’s the second to latest edition—and a 4 gig iPod shuffle that I use for running. It was a gift, but I love it.

I will admit, I love my Apple devices.

But I hate their computers. Yes, enough to start a sentence with a conjunction.

Recently, I set off a minor firestorm on my Facebook page when I dared scoff at the glory of Apple computers. I will never join that trend (speaking computers, that is. I’d die without my collection of iDoodads). I don’t care how wonderful their operating systems supposedly are, I don’t care how cool their entertainment systems are, I don’t care how damn white they are. They’re stupidly expensive and I understand Windows just fine, thanks. Why, at my age, with limited time to spend learning rather than using a computer, would I force myself to learn a whole new OS, and shell out that kind of cash just so my laptop bears a glowing white once-bitten apple to impress my friends? Nuts to that.

That was my opinion when I entered the Apple store in search of a USB cable and a remote thingy. The place was very busy, as I’ve said, but there were many employees as well, more than there were customers. Each was young, bearing a blue shirt and a sparkling smile. Odd for an electronics store: plenty of available clerks who appear happy.

No, not happy.

Fanatical.

I passed the first tow glass tables which were set up as iPad 2 altars, and then an employee sprinted up to ask me how he could help me.

When asked, he knew exactly what I needed, and led me over to an accessories wall where he indicated the cable ($30) and remote thingy ($55) that I sought. I didn’t grab them, instead considering places where I could find cheaper knock offs that worked just as well minus the Apple logo.

Unused to having an electronics store employee stay with me, I sought to milk the moment.

“Say, where are your iPhone cases?”

He took me to the opposite accessory wall, which bore hundreds of the cases in all colours and styles, made of gels, rubber, metal, plastic, cork, human flesh (I’m sure). But all for the iPhone 4.

“Mine’s a 3,” I said. Then, like it mattered, “A GS.”

His smile faltered, just a little. To the point of almost coming back into the range of the humanly possible. I took a moment to study his teeth, telling myself that they couldn’t possibly be made of white Apple plastic. No, they couldn’t be.

“Oh,” he said.

He pointed up to a nigh-unreachable corner of the wall bearing four 3GS cases. One looked like a sunglasses fabric bag, another was pink metal, the third was the same as my own, and the fourth was pink and purple with the word “juicy” adorning it in what looked like rhinestones.

“Thanks,” I said. “Think I’ll pass.”

“Okay. Say,” he said, his eyes widening and crossing slightly, a small trickle of drool running out of his mouth, “you tried the iPad 2 yet?”

“No, I’m not really interested.” I’m not a tablet man. My smart-phone and laptop combined make a bulky tablet pretty meaningless to me.

“Oh, but you should at least try it.”

That is not a human grin.

“S’okay,” I said.

“Tell you what, go check it out. I’ll come check on you in a few minutes to see how you like it.”

“Uh, kay.”

I left, fearful that if I stayed a moment longer that a side panel would open up, revealing a shrine of Steve Jobbs made of white plastic, and the faithful would line up for afternoon prayers.

I went to Best Buy, found the items I wanted for less than $30, I didn’t even see  an employee, and was happy that the store was as dishevelled and poorly-organized as ever.

I remain an Applegnostic.

A Note of Thanks to the People of Canada from Stephen Harper

A note of thanks to the people of Canada from your lord and ruler, his majesty, the always-right, and honourable (because it says so in my title!) Primus Regis Maximus Minister, speaking of his will over the peons and plebes, his godship, Stephen Harper.

Subjects,

It is with great hope for the future of my rule that I set these words to cyber-paper—well, I’m dictating them to a nameless lackey (Helena Guergis) and I’ll have another lackey check them over for grammar and proper fear-mongering—but basically it is I, your lord and master, deigning to speak to you now.

I need to start with a word of thanks. What, you ask, I thanking you? No, your petty eyes are not deceiving you. I am truly thankful, for you see, I could not continue to rule you as I see fit without your continued ignorance and apathy, so: thank you. *Ahem. That was much more distasteful than I expected.*

I shall now present to you, point by point, the reasons I am thankful, through a concise and comprehensive list compiled by another of my lackeys.

1.     Thank you for not understanding how our democracy works. This is extremely helpful in my quest to reorganize it into: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GNAHjsAnTd4

I have been able to do this by convincing you that you are voting for me, or against Stephan Dion’s accent, Michael Ignatieff’s education, Jack Layton’s moustache or Elizabeth May’s right to exist. Thank you for not understanding in Canada that you vote for your MP, not your PM. Your cooperation in this matter has continued to help me perpetuate an American-based system rather than British. Please, watch more FOX News.    

2.     Thank you for not knowing what the word “minority” means. If you watched the Canadian news rather than The Bachelor or pro sports once in a while, you might have learned that more people voted against the Conservatives than for us in 2008. If I were any other leader, I might have to play nice with those scum who use the big words and sit across the floor from me. But you have allowed me to ignore facts and numbers and proceed as I will.

3.     Speaking of words, thanks for allowing me to convince you that the word “coalition” is nastier than Armageddon, hospital waiting rooms, and HST combined. It’s helpful that you believe me when I say it is unconstitutional and undemocratic (I’ve never glanced at our constitution and democracy is what I make of it), even when many European nations govern with coalitions quite nicely, appealing to a greater set of the populace’s interests (I mean, who cares what you want—governing is about POWER!). Thanks again for not knowing that our system has a British basis, not an American one. OH! And thanks for believing me when I tell you the opposition parties are a coalition already, even though they deny it, and there are no facts to supprt my claims. Pffft, evidence. Always in my way. Also, thanks for forgetting altogether that my Conservative Party (3.0) is a COALITION of the right, featuring former Progressive Conservatives, Reformers like me, and that Canadian Alliance thingy. It's swell that you forget that I proposed my own coalition in 2004, and that I refuse to speak about a letter I sent to the Governor General then. My word always trumps the facts! My daily needs to re-write history are duly served by your inattentiveness.

4.     When those dastardly, puppy-skinning, Lenin-worshipping Liberals ruled us, we Reformers and Conservatives rightly decried every prorogation of Parliament. Who did those lazy sos-and-sos think they were, calling a pause to Parliament—y’know, every decade or so? But it’s super cool that I can do it every time the Opposition starts using that constitution thingy to form a coalition (EVIL!), or when you get wind of us hiding the abuses of Afghan detainees from you. Thanks for allowing me, when the chips are down, to take an extended holiday so I can go see some hockey. I know that letting you have some time to get worked up about who is getting kicked off the island will cool your passion for politics faster than you can say "abuse of power."

5.      That short-term memory of yours is awesome! I mean, if you remembered my gay-bashing newspaper ads back when I was an out-of-the-closet Christian fundamentalist Reformer, you might not prop me up so readily. Thanks also for letting me campaign on Senate reform, then get into power, learn what the Senate actually is, then load the sucker up with Conservative sycophants. I mean, this way, if Parliament fails to pass a bill but I can get it to the upper house, we can just re-route the system and I can make all kinds of crazy laws. How come Arthur Meighen never thought of this?

6.     Thanks for missing the whole “contempt” thing. I mean, sure, we’re stealing your tax dollars and lying about campaign spending, super-prisons, shiny jets, and we created a budget with the sole purpose of goading the Opposition into a contempt vote so that we could blame them for the election we don’t need right now because, dang it, I’m just so concerned about Japan and . . . that Arab place with the guy who has the kind of power I want. Y’know, the one Obama asked us to help bomb? So, thanks for not knowing that “contempt” means your government has broken your laws. Repeatedly. What’s that you say? “Corruption?” LOOK, THE COALITION IS DROWNING KITTENS!

As we’ve begun this election—that I wanted, but know you don’t, so I’m blaming it on the other guys—it’s become apparent that you, my subjects, will let me say and do anything.

Because you just don’t care.  

You either blindly follow my party with the same sort of reverence you hold for hockey teams, never taking silly things like policies or issues into account, or you just stand aside and do nothing. You don’t follow politics, you don’t vote. I couldn’t continue to translate “minority” to mean “empire” without your continued zeal or apathy, respectively.

So, thanks. People throughout North Africa and the Middle East are protesting, fighting and dying for the rights you have given up to me with nary a shrug.

Sincerely,

            The (Always) Right Honourable (as I define “Honour), Prime Minister cum His Majesty, President (in Deed if not Name), Dictator (in Intent and Practise), of Canada,   

                                                                                                                             Steve

                                                                      

Blognote: Today ask yourself who the real fools are.

There is Best Away

           
            Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, Ezra Pound, William Faulkner, F. Scott Fitzgerald, James Joyce and the rest of the first and best Lost Generation wrote some of their greatest work in 1920s Paris. What they created about their homeland in expatriation intrigues me.

            Joyce’s Ulysses is many things: the greatest novel ever, the worst novel ever, allegory, confusing, illuminating, bragging rights at a party if you’ve read it, really heavy in a bag, obscene . . . It is also a love letter to Dublin. Joyce wrote about the city in such detail that pilgrims still trace Bloom and Dedalus’ paths over the course of their extraordinary day. It is one of the Irish people’s most revered texts. There’s also a good deal of stout consumed in it.

            And he wrote the whole thing while in France.

            He knew which buildings were where, containing which businesses—if he was ever unsure of anything, he wrote a friend in Ireland for details—but the point is he wasn’t in Dublin for any of it.

            Henrik Ibsen wrote the greatest of his plays—all set in Norway—while living in Germany and Italy.

            Stein did it, so did Fitzgerald. Hemingway commented in A Moveable Feast—a book written about France while he was travelling in Spain and then Cuba, decades later—that the best way to write about a place is when you are not in it. 

            This is funny for me. I mean, I like writing about places. I have an idea for a Viking novel set in Norway and Iceland that I have felt for some time requires me returning to those countries. I’d also like to write about some of my time living and teaching in Asia, but I feel that I need to go back again to get a feel for my old home.

            What Hemingway has made me think is that you can get a better feel for a place away from it than in it.

            The fantasy is that writing about a place while there allows for you to employ more of the pertinent and accessible imagery. You’re experiencing it, you’ll remember it. Little, seemingly meaningless sights, smells—sooo important, the sounds; anecdotes that strike you as worth putting in; basically, things that I’m worried I’ll forget after the fact. These are all things that matter to the people there, but don’t to anyone reading me who isn’t there. There’s creating the flavour, and then there’s dumping the whole spice rack in the soup.

            The Ah-ha moment. These little things, though charming, are distractions. When you’re tasting another culture soup, every little flavour makes you want to add it. However, your reader might not care about the garnish and instead just want to get down to deciding whether it’s a milk or water base.

            Writing about a place when away, then, might be the best idea, because you can distil what matters from that setting and let it aid you, rather than hinder you, in twisting things to produce something good and true. 

           

The Ground Cried Out, but the Crowd Sat Politely

An open letter to Jeff Martin regarding his performance last night (March 11) at Bert Church Theatre in Airdrie, Alberta. (For Sunni and Ed, but mostly for Sunni).

Dear Jeff,

I'm a fan. A big one. Have been since "Save Me." I have seen you perform with The Tea Party six times. My favorite album is Interzone Mantras and I have both of your solo albums, your live solo album, and your hard to find Armada album. Seriously, big fan.

First, let me tell you how much I appreciated you returning to Canada. I miss TTP, yes, but I enjoy your solo/Armada/777 stuff so much that that particular void in my life is filled. I learned last fall of your forthcoming show at the small theatre in Airdrie at Bert Church High School, and was elated to acquire second row tickets for my wife and I (our friends Sunni and Ed, who this Blogletter is dedicated to, were unable to attend due to a last minute family emergency).

I loved the show, and in writing this I'd like to tell you how I interacted with it, so I can give our friends a touch of what they missed.

On the venue: I've seen you with The Tea Party in halls, auditoriums and outdoor festivals. The 377 seat Bert Church Theatre is nice enough and has great sound, but its stage and glaring EXIT doors on either side cannot let you forget there's a high school twenty feet away (as well as the fella who welcomed us, warning us there was a basketball game going on down the hall. Weird.) The sound was great, but it was really hard to work the crowd into a frenzy in that place.

On the frenzy: When we bought our tickets, you were only playing this show and one in Edmonton. Months later we learned of your new album, and then the rest of a Canadian tour wrapped around them. S'cool, but I was expecting that venue to draw you into your acoustic, hand-drumming, tabla material. The Ground Cries Out is a rock album, and you came to rock. We were pleased, but I guess I have to say I was a little sorry not to see you pull up a stool, and that you played only guitars. Thanks for the twelve string and the bow solo, though.

On openers: My wife loved Gabriel Lee, the Australian lad who played an acoustic set while sitting on a stool (inviting further speculation that you might do the same), channeling Jimmy Page and Robert Plant through one medium. Flowerchild was less impressive, although they succeeded in sounding like the bands they wanted to, most notably The Black Crows. Vocalist Gregory Vitale went up in our estimate when he high-fived a really young audience member and then invited the kid to meet him later to get a CD and a T-shirt. That sort of thing really gets my musically-passive wife on your side.

On your show: Okay, I checked your website for a set list, and couldn't find one. So if I'm wrong about anything--I am doing it from memory.

"The Ground Cries Out" from The Ground Cries Out

Right, so, it's this ittby bitty theatre where they didn't even close the curtain, so when you and your band strode on, the less than psychedelic lighting came up, it seemed a bit anti-climactic. I do remember feeling the same thing at Edgefest in 1997, though. Then you tore into the song any of us who are fans knew you'd open with. It rocks, it's a little eastern, which makes you you, and it's your single. After we sat through Gabriel and Flowerchild, I wondered how you'd react. I saw you once in Saskatoon at a larger auditorium and you didn't say a thing about the sitting in the comfy chairs--everybody was standing by "Temptation" anyway. There's a word you roared pre-chorus that on the album is Persian or Arabic--I won't insult anyone by guessing--but it sounded like you were pissed off and telling us to "stand up." My wife, who hates standing and clapping and the like, would have been lost at a show I'd convinced her to take in if that was your demand. I was wrong. At the end you just smirked out at us and went, "Well, this is intimate." Relief.

"Overload" Seven Circles

Also knew you'd play this one. Happened upon a video online of it with your new band (777) backing you. Figured it would appear. Was actually pleased because I have often worried that Seven Circles will be the neglected child of The Tea Party canon, because the idea of doing a stripped down rocker album seemed less than inspired at the time. Mind you, that could be personal, seeing as it followed my fave, Interzone. Anyway, you showed us with these two furious openers that this would be a rock show, and you flutter-kicked and tore out solos to remind us you can command a stage, sir, and that famous Martin ego was still safely intact.

"Reqium" Interzone Mantras

Thanks for this one. One of your better ballads, and though I thought you might be playing it--you have been in your solo touring that I've bought or bootlegged--but this contaned one of the few surprises of the night for me. (C'mon, I knew you would play "Sister" that way.) A ways in, past the bridge, you cut into "Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails. The uninitiated may have said, "Oh, that's clever. Johnny Cash did this, and Jeff's also a Man in Black." TTP fans knew you had done this sometimes in "Save Me" back as far as the Transmission tour, but who cares, it was an effing glorious touch to this beauty.

"Queen of Spades" The Ground Cries Out

This sucker rocks, and I believe, though my memory may fail me, that this is the song where you cut into the Hendrix riffs while soloing. I love those allusions, and this show had some of the more subtle ones. Got us going singing back the "S'alrights." Then, just a few songs in and, to my surprise you invite the "crowd" to stick around for an autograph signing after the show. Wow. Okay, maybe it's standard this tour, but I told myself that you liked us after all. That sorta thing matters to me.

"The Cobra" The Ground Cries Out

This is my favourite track off the new album and I dug it when you said the same. It rocks hard, and blasts along. I didn't know it was a reference to the Kama Sutra, but that takes a back seat to nice, bumpy drive, recalling "Temptation" and its E-key ilk.

"Riverland Rambler" The Ground Cries Out

Ah, drug-inspired songs. You were telling us the tale of this one--a hippie guru you know in Australia with a really hot wife; a pot-hazed drive where you saw a sign for a housing complex--when some electric hum bothered you. You didn't get pissed, but you also didn't really finish the story before cutting into this groovy swamp blues number.

"Santeria" The Ground Cries Out

Another new rocker. You know, I really like the new album, because I wasn't at all disappointed with the amount of new material you packed into this set. At the end, we clapped and hollered, then stopped. You were bending over to look at a pedal and glanced up at us saying, "It's very quiet." We laughed. "I like the applause and everything, but. . . ." You didn't finish, you cut into the next song, but I was staring to worry the venue was costing us something.

"The Pyre" The Ground Cries Out

Here's my confession: I can't be sure if you played this or "1916" off the new album. I like both, and have been listening to the album a lot since the 1st so I can't be sure. Let's just say you played one.

"Shadows on the Mountainside" Edges of Twilight

I have heard the story of this song--you were reading Native Canadian philosophy, were high on mushrooms, were driving thought the Rockies in 1994--a few times. I found it fun how you cleaned it up for the all ages show (though you'd mentioned smoking up, being hungover from a vodka binge last night, and tantric sex already, so it seemed kinda moot), and loved this acoustic break. Neat to see your new bassist Jay Cortez cover the mandolin parts on it, something Stuart Chatwood never did when I saw TTP. Just as an aside, it didn't do anything to rid him of his "shaggy blond Lurch" moniker with my wife. And what's with all the Aussie rockers having unkempt hair in front of their eyes and creepy open-chest shirts? Moving on . . .


"Sister Awake" Edges of Twilight

This got you a standing ovation--which you deserved long before, but we were a tame crowd. I'm guessing my 33 years was about the average age, so we were work. I am very familiar with this Egyptian version of TTP's greatest single, but many in the audience weren't. It's huge. Ten minutes of intros from other tracks, some Persian/Egyptian/Arabic (pardon my ignorance, I am but a Viking) chanting, a bow solo (YES!) and an ending featuring the outro of "Save Me" which only a handful of us caught. But it wouldn't be a Jeff Martin show without it. Oh yeah, when you went from the intro of "Halcyon Days" to that familiar (to me) B-B-A riff of "Sister," that one guy who recognized it, cheered loud, then told his wife--yeah: me.

"Black Snake Blues" Exile and the Kingdom

The slide guitar told me it would be this song, but I expected you to do a little "Sun Going Down" first. What you did was homage to Zeppelin with some "In My Time of Dying," then a necrophilia joke that I could have taken or left, then this, my favorite song of your solo career (though I hate the vocal mix on the Armada version, I just have to say). And that was your walk off.

"Coming Home" Edges of Twilight

I wasn't surprised we only got one encore. It was a small show, and your encores tend to last--this I figure was eight or nine minutes. What I wasn't expecting was this, on of my favorite Edges songs that I've never heard live. Okay, maybe you were pandering to us--you live in Australia now, you have come back to Canada for a tour. Don't know, don't care. Thanks for playing it. After a solo, you slipped into "Fire in the Head," and again I felt like the only person hollering for recognizing it, and you told us how you've wished that song--which I felt a little slighted for not getting all of--would've been recorded in the days of ring tones. "You--have a message." I laughed really hard at that. My wife thought I was a dork, but that's par for the course. I was in the second row, and that was good enough for me. Some older folks and some drunk/stoned age mates started dancing in front of the stage at this point--this was where you started working us. During "Black Snake" you reminded us this was a rock show, insisting we stand up, and clap. I didn't think that was much to ask, and complied. I thought for a moment about a mosh pit I was caught in at a 1997 TTP show, and hating it because it didn't suit. But tonight I felt like we'd swung too far the other way.

Done. I loved the show, but, as stated, I'm a big Jeff Martin fan. I smirked when you mentioned your Jag, and I would have liked to hear something about Django (I played "Daystar" to each of my boys when they were born), but we all have our wants. After all was over, a dude started screaming the lyrics to "Temptation." TTP draws your crowds for you, but I for one can love a Jeff Martin show in 2011 without having to hear "Heaven Coming Down."

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

A recent tradition, going back to about 2007. As a double present for his birthday and Christmas, my younger brothers and I buy our dad Flames tickets. It's become quite the event. Tim Hortons, Princess Auto, Red Lobster, a pub or two, and then finally an NHL hockey game.

As time's gone by, we've seen the Flames play Colombus, San Jose, New Jersey and tonight Nashville, moving further down the bowl with each year. Tonight we were lower bowl, seventh row--and tonight Jarome Iginla scored a rare penalty shot about fifty feet from us. A rare triumph, an enjoyable tradition. How will we top it for next year?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FvesLm9R3Og