If you're reading this, that means we actually got it done. I'll explain: 1992 was the 'If anything can go wrong it certainly will' tour, and one of the casualties was an aborted (at great cost) attempt at our first newsletter. Don't ask, just be glad (like us) that we got it done. However, our year was not spent collecting addresses. Get a load of this:
We wrapped up '91 at the Convention Centre with a New Year's gig, attended by The Crash Test Dummies, 54-40, and local pals 3XTB. I don't remember much after midnight except the usual pledge that 1992 would be our year and it's still gonna be great. Within a month, Jane Hawley left the band, The Flippin' Idjits were born (don't ask) and we still didn't know if we were going to Europe or not.
Anyhow, Europe came through, the prospect of a new album was real, and Jane did her last gig on February 2. That didn't leave us much time to replace her, so we were forced to get back to basics in case anyone out there was wondering about the four piece band action.
So, blissfully ignorant of what the future held in store, we began a four month road trip that makes the term 'hell tour' sound like a walk through a petting zoo. (Actually, it wasn't that bad.) (Actually, it was.) Of note in March was our trip to Austin, Texas' South by Southwest Festival. A very pretty town with way too many bands, including The Beat Farmers, whom I unfortunately ran into. I almost went AWOL as I considered heading to Houston with the Farmers. Thank God, my hangover changed all that. We played the Canadian showcase at the 311 Club. On the bill were Bobby Wiseman, Sara Craig, Mack McKenzie, The Lost Dakotas, and the Leslie Spit Tree-O. Apparently, us proud Canucks drank more than 15 flats of Rolling Rock beer and no one got drunk, although trips to the bathroom were all too frequent.
Had to keep moving. This time we drove through many famous American cities in the middle of the night (the Mississippi looks very black at 3:30 a.m.) Got to Toronto in time for Juno week. Oh, the festivities. I don't know how, but we were invited to Dan Gallagher's Juno parties that went on all week, and in case you thought we were being schmooze kings, I must tell you that our guitar player and our manager managed to be ejected from said parties (but don't ask). WE wrapped all that up with a great gig at the El Mocambo in T.O. with The Bourbon Tabernacle Choir. Some of you may have seen us at that time between Montreal and Toronto. We still had the whites of our eyes, good gear, and clean faces. That was about to change......
We played a press conference for the Mariposa Folk Festival and went directly (and I mean directly) to the airport to get our asses over to Europe, visions of continental domination dancing in our heads. It didn't take long to learn that things were different over there. To make a month long story short, we played Holland, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Slovenia, France and Belgium, in that order. They weren't too used to our treatment of rock and country, but they caught on. Except for a few border guards, everyone was as nice and accommodating as possible, and our sincere gratitude is extended to all our new friends. Fondly remembered are Radio Freja and staff in Albourg, Denmark, the gig in Lund, Sweden, our stay in Lubliana, Slovenia, Bordeaux, and Lyons, France, the insane last week in Belgium (don't ask) and the fellow in Kristiansaand, Norway who asked us what colony we were from.
Europe had its downside in terms of our financial difficulties. We even went three days without food, but that's what we all joined the band for in the first place, right? Overall, a good time was had and that's around the time we started growing hair on our faces.
Upon touchdown in Canada, we went directly (and I mean directly) up to the expansive Christie Mansion by the mighty Lake Simcoe near Barrie, Ontario to record 'Pull the Goalie' with us, Dave Mockford, and Peter J. Moore at the production helm. Most of you know the results; if not, go ask your mother.
The very next day after laying down the last track on Pull the Goalie (it took a month), we were off to Hamilton, Ontario for the C.O.C.A. Conference. Imagine six guys who hadn't really spoken to Canadian girls in two months. There was a million people there in shorts, and damned if I didn't get culture shock in my native land. People were looking at me funny, then I realized that I had a full beard on my face. Apparently, I looked like a cross between Charles Manson and Jesus Christ. From Hamilton, we finished the Eastern swing which included the Mariposa Folk Festival where we were accused of drinking the festival dry. (Don't ask, we're completely innocent. Really.)
Finally headed West to Winnipeg for June 26. I turned 29 that day, but more importantly (some would say "but more pathetically...") I celebrated my 9th year (yes, nine!) with Jr. Gone Wild. My birthday hangover was compounded on the Saturday night when Dead Beat Backbone blew us off the stage at our mutual "last gig of the tour". After four months, home seemed like a good idea so we left right after the gig and rolled into the Rosebowl around 5 p.m. the next day. That was June 28th.
The next two months were spent rehearsing for some reason. In August, we shot a video for What's Going On (I guess it died a quick death) and hired singing whiz Kathryn Rose who helped us with the really hard vocal parts on Goalie (she's the one in key on the album).
Marla and Faith made sure our Ear to the Ground CBC special got aired even though we're not mentioned in the commercial. Pull the Goalie was released (the Street Date as we say in the biz) on September 28th, and we held our Record Deceased Party at the Rosebowl (a.k.a. the office) and it was on the road again.
The next span of time included shooting a video for Rhythm of the Rain in Turner Valley, Alberta, a Beat Farmers show in Edmonton (Dove wants everyone to know he lost his boots at the Bronx) and a trip to the Bumbershoot Festival in Seattle, Washington.
Basically, we spent two months having the shit beat out of us by the recession, and most of us regretted mournfully that we couldn't vote on the Referendum due to our absence from Edmonton at enumeration time (did you know that Elections Canada has no contingency plan for people in our position, which I cannot believe is all that unique? No shit, I called them and they were baffled. Anyways, Canada, I tried.)
We were elated that the Blue Jays won the World Series, but we were considerably less elated, more like stunned, that we'd crossed Canada for the fourth or fifth time this year. Coast to coast to coast, etc., etc., etc......
As of this writing, we're home for a minute before the final week of our journey. It's been one hell of a long year; many frustrations, almost went bankrupt, were turned away at the U.S. border on the way to New York, but we want you to know that you who are reading this kept us going the whole way, and we'll push farther if you want us to (after a good rest, that is). Just let us know. At any rate, this is our first newsletter, second attempt. What do you think?
Signed, Mike McDonald
P.S. Forgot to mention the Alberta Recording Industry Association named us Pop Rock Group of the Year for 1991, but we didn't win a Juno. (Don't ask.)
POSTSCRIPT: Had to include this. We actually survived a total of 8 months on the road this year with no fistfights! The last week or so brought us to Calgary, Whistler, Victoria and Vancouver. I'll never forget opening for Joe Ely at Harpo's in Victoria, or the full house at the Town Pump in Vancouver where we finally allowed ex-patriated Jr. guy Ford Pier to join us on keys once again while I simultaneously had the most incredible on stage temper tantrum of my career. Don't worry, I maintained decorum, I just didn't think that I could swear that good. Remembered unfondly is my harp cradle, whose mangled remains remain on the wall or something at the Town Pump. The somewhat sad news is that Chris Smith got the call and he's subsequently off to forge forward with a new supergroup he's forming. Knowing Chris, you people out there are in for something loud, interesting and very good. Jr.'s best wishes go with him. Remember the pedal steel on Too Dumb to Quit? Well, Lance Loree played that and he will be filling Chris's position for a while. Remember the heavenly pregnant voice on Too Dumb? That was Bernice Pelletier. She's taking Kathryn Rose's spot. Kathryn made it back to Toronto safely, but apparently she picked up a few habits her cohabitants found strange. I knew we'd make a man out of her. I suppose all I can do now is quote Vincent Price at this juncture. "The castle lights are growing dim, there's no one left but me and him. When next you come to Frankenstone... don't come alone..." (Don't ask.)
After 7 Days With Dove
The end of the year is the time when most people recall the past year and ponder the meaning of life. Myself, rather than question my own life, question everybody else's. Here is a brief list of the mysteries of our universe:
So that's the kind of stuff I've been thinking about. If any of you have answers to these questions or similarly relevant questions of your own, please send them or a case of beer to me c/o Jr.
Till next time.
Love, Dove.
In future issues, we will be featuring a 'Letters to the Creditors (don't ask)' column where we will be publishing the best letters we receive, so write those letters:
Jr. Gone Wild
P.O. Box 206
Edmonton, Alberta
Canada
T5l 2L8
Fax: (403) 488-2225
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