There ain't no side like the Northside of the river, and it ain't moonshine unless it hurts yer liver...

I've never been to Edmonton before. Consequently, I think I was kind of expecting some sort of northern version of Calgary, which couldn't be further from the case. I think it managed to charm us in ways we hadn't expected and it was actually really hard to leave this morning.

We spent the earlier part of the day at the West Edmonton Mall. When I was a little kid, I was regaled with amazing tales by kids who spent their summer vacations somewhere other than their backyards: A mall so cool it had a roller coaster, aquarium and a wave pool inside! It was a dream trip from my childhood that I never got to take, and here I was, a billion years later. I felt like I should have some pang of excitement or something, but no. Instead, I sat in the food court and wrangled free wireless to keep things organized and on schedule. I will never understand my own head, although I must admit I was really bummed I hadn't brought my skates when we walked past the skating rink. I'm pretty sure my band would never speak to me again if I'd tried to stuff those in the back of our near exploding van, but the rush that I got at the idea of zipping around in my old Risports inside a shopping mall was fiercely appealing. Spooky and Sean managed to hop on the Mindbender and scramble their brains a bit before we had to head off for our show.

After an education in the historical folklore and mythos of that which is the Wunderbar Hofbrauhaus (it's wild), our friends from Mmmberta showed up and a riotously enjoyable show/party/singalong ensued along with the No Don't Stop boys.

If there's one thing I've learned after touring on and off for the last 12 years, it's that if you're not getting paid in money, it sure helps to get paid in liquor. And after my intense bout of uptight organizational neurosis at the mall, it felt good to kick back amongst friends and a seemingly unending supply of Hoegaarten. It wasn't a huge show, but it was among the most memorable ones I've played in a really long time. A huge thanks to all those amazing people and my less inebriated band members for dragging my sorry ass home in one piece.

Learning Experiences of the Day (Drumheller, AB)

1. The loft of a sleeping bag does not directly effect its ability to keep you warm.
2. It's really f(*&ing cold in Alberta.
3. Suspension bridges are awesome.
4. Mud is slippery.
5. Hatchets make effective can openers.
6. There's dinosaurs in them there hills...
7. Sleeping upright in a van is better than freezing your ass off in the world's nicest tent.
8. It's really f(*&ing cold in Alberta.
9. I will set fire to my sleeping bag upon arriving home. This will be the only time it provides any warming capabilities...
10. All our efforts to have good coffee have been thwarted. This could prove dangerous.

I'm only sleeping. (Sparwood, BC)

I am a terrible sleeper. I always have been. Even when I was a tiny baby, I would sit up with my eyes wide open until I would fall over exhausted in the wee hours of the morning. To this day not much has changed. I am perpetually restless. I apparently say really mean, awful things to people while I slumber. I also sing and giggle in my sleep, something that my sister harassed me about for years. I very rarely dream and never remember any of the lengthy conversations I am told I have with people. Sleep is like tissue paper to me; fragile and fleeting.

The ridiculously weird thing, and something that I have in common with my roommate, Jeff, is that I have my best sleeps in the oddest places; be it in a bathtub, under a table or my very favourite, the backseat of our trusty, well-worn tour van, Jean Claude Damn Van.

Last night was one of those nights. After a ferry ride and a long drive, we camped out in the middle of a thunderstorm near the world's largest truck. We baked biscuit dogs on sticks and drank beer and it very nearly felt like a vacation.

I terrified some poor, drunk biker lady by peeing in the bushes and made her scream like a banshee. It felt strange to be a thing that went bump in the night, and she laughed her head off when she realized I wasn't the boogieman.

Eventually I made my way to my lovely metal cocoon; my preferred, albeit wussy, camping structure. It's embarrassing to admit, because I really love camping, but to this day, I can't make friends with a tent. I work at it every few months, but I usually fail. I ultimately can't fathom the idea of a piece nylon fabric protecting me from the illimitable number of bears and serial killers that occupy my late night imagination.

But, safe in the belly of JCDV, I curled up and really slept, content and entirely comfortable with the fact that I would wake up with the imprint of the seat belt on my forehead.

Just Me and My Harem (Nelson, BC)

I lead a pretty serendipitous life, and, in spite of its ups and downs, I'm really grateful for that. For some reason, that flow of serendipity just seems to accelerate on tour. Instead of walking down the street and thinking, "four leaf clover", then leaning over and picking one up, I walk down the street looking for cheap dinner and see plants growing all over a building and think, "man, I really need to go in there" and suddenly I have free dinner... not just for me, but my entire band.

This was the case tonight, and I have to say with the way things have been going so far, this is shaping up to be the best tour I've ever been on. Tonight our little crew walked into a foliage covered restaurant in Nelson called, El Taco. We were tired and hungry and needed to eat in a hurry. Greeted at the door by the lovely, Justine, she informed us that the restaurant was closed for their staff party, but they had made way too much food and that we should join them. And so, we enjoyed a lovely Indian/Thai dinner in a Mexican restaurant with a group of complete strangers who then poured us beautiful coconut and rum concoctions to keep us warm on our way. A few of them even made it down to our show afterward.

The show was great. It was a nice turnout for a Sunday. My friend, Lisa, came out and brought a bunch of her friends. and we encountered quite possibly one of the best sound engineers in western Canada. (Jacob, you rock!) And this morning, at a restaurant in Osoyoos, I was accosted by our waitress, who demanded to know what I was doing traveling around with five men. I told her they were my harem, but then her eyes got really big and I don't think she got the joke, so we filled her in on the actual details to put her mind at ease.

In the grand scheme of life, there are days when the world kicks my ass harder than I could ever explain, but then there are days like today when the universe just sits there and grins like a big-ass Cheshire cat and I have to grin right back.

Mathematics (Vancouver, BC)

Herding band members into vehicles at 5:30am is something akin to a game of anti-gravity labyrinth; ultimately a pipe dream, but we did make it out in relatively decent time this morning. The show in Vancouver last night was fantastic. The turn out really shocked us. So many people made an effort to come. A heartfelt thanks if you were one of them. It was great to play with some old touring friends, Drue and Chelsea from Catamaran, who have an amazing tap dancing bass player. The entire evening was a treat.

Our equation for the last two days: Wake up at 6am. 6 hours tour prepping and loading a van. One ferry ride. Take two bands, play a show until 2am, find food at 2:30am to keep group sanity, then attempt to sleep at 3am, attempt to wake up at 5:30am, actually wake up at 6:30am and finally get out the door at 8am after rolling certain band members out the door still in their sleeping bags and saying farewell to respective significant others. Add one 9 hour drive. Ever wonder why the last touring band you saw looked so tired? I assure you, it is the very same reason this blog post is only two paragraphs long.

Forty Fathoms of Highway

In a frenzy of pre-tour chaos, I am attempting to keep my head. I am the kind of person who attempts to organize my way out of any conceivable difficulty ahead of time. This is actually a pretty good quality when it comes right down to it; I always have a flashlight when the power goes out, or money for the bus, but tour is a bigger monster than your average daily chaos. It's like a road trip with tentacles, and it likes to rear its head from time to time.

The main difficulty is that booking a tour is like weaving a spiderweb of human integrity. You have to put your faith in a bunch of human beings who you've likely never met before and hope for the best, and anyone who's bumped along this path for a bit knows that this is not exactly an industry of trust and reliability. While there are amazing show promoters out there who give their heart and soul to touring bands and help make shows fantastic experiences, there are also an equal number of show promoters who could give a shit if you even showed up let alone be bothered to put up a poster even at the venue you are playing. In either case, you need to spend lot of time making sure that that web of human integrity remains at least intact enough to give you some actual semblance of a tour.

It's a lot like playing dominoes. If all the little bits and pieces line up things tend to go really well. But, based on experience, the dominoes never line up exactly, so the most you can do is promote things to the best of your abilities take a deep breath and leap.

Time is a fleeting thing. No matter how far in advance you start planning, there are never quite enough days, minutes or seconds left to get it all done. No matter how many phone calls and emails you make, there will be some sort of chaos. Bits and pieces fall over in the wrong direction and you have to stand them up again. Sometimes CDs don't show up until the day before you leave for tour. Sometimes they just don't show up. No matter what, you have to make it work, and there is always one more thing you could do to make things work a little better. Right now is the moment that I stop, take my breath and attack that tentacled monster for all it's worth and hope that the web I've woven holds together. Only time will tell.