Board tap - audio recording made from a connection between two points of a mixing console circuit
Bored tap - 1) newsletter mail out of the notoriously questionable rock band Jr. Gone Wild 2) a not very funny joke 3) a demonstration of Mike McDonald's lack of imagination
I'd like to say "You won't believe what our year was like", but I'm afraid our year was quite plausible and, I suppose, very realistic. Most of you know that we started '93 with a line-up change, (makes you crazy, don't it) bringing in Bernice and Lance (see: Too Dumb to Quit - Ed.) and as '93 ebbs, this configuration of JGW stands. Anyhow Jr's strategy and the music industry's marketing and Trend-control plans remained unreconciled at the beginning of the year and that was that. Pull the Goalie had made the usual impact most great Canadian albums make: none (if this isn't true, then someone explain why the Rheostatics haven't been canonized yet). Some of you saw the "new" line-up during our eastern swing last March, and Dove and I extend enormous apologies to the folks in Peterborough. It seems a few billion microbes decided to throw a viral orgy in Dove's and my systems, with Jr. as the entertainment. We're better now.
After the tour, we faced bankruptcy for many months but kept our heads above water, where we still languish confidently. It was during this time that the turnaround came.
Those of you who have been following the band for years know that the words "beer" and "Jr. Gone Wild" are synonymous. WAS synonymous. It seems I quit drinking. About 8 or 9 months ago. That served to save my life and most importantly, it awakened my muse... I've been churning out new songs nonstop ever since.
Anyhow, we continued creditor dodging until June 26, 1993, when Jr. Gone Wild turned 10 and I turned 30. We celebrated at the power plant (the nicest, easiest gig on earth) in Edmonton. Alumni came and helped us play a three and a half hour set. We couldn't do every song, but each "era" of Jr. was honourably represented. My personal thanks to Steve Loree, Jane Hawley, Chris Smith, Duke Bronfman and the original Jr.: Kim Upright, Graham Brown and Mark Brostrom. Our old pal Bill Bourne ended up on stage singing Rolling Stone with us, and Al Ouelette and the New Picture Crew shot the whole thing. John Oparyk and Kathy Kirby recorded it, and Don Moore and the staff of the power plant were kind enough to allow me to run the show my own way. We didn't let him play drums but Sparky the Happy Troll came up and sang Mrs. Jones with us. Holger Peterson and the Stony Plain staff were outrageously helpful in making the afternoon reception a success (thanks again for skipping Dr. John, Holger). The Rose Bowl supplied the pizza and Marty and the Big Rock Folks made sure we had enough beer. The Alberta Recording Industry Association provided great advice and they're the best hostesses on Earth. Thanks to Lance, Dove and Maggie (well, maybe not Lance) for helping me hand tie-dye 150 t-shirts, Ford for the anniversary logo, Angus and Ant for doing the poster. Wes and Winston were great emcees, and Winston carried himself with noble distinction as he manned the "talking t-shirt booth" later that night. The Rose Bowl let us continue our party after the Plant shut down. The Vinaigrettes primed the crowd wonderfully before our set. Finally thanks to Terry & Christine (Ottawa), Scott Dobson (Toronto), and Carolyn Mark (Victoria), Ford Pier (Vancouver), Dove (Edmonton), and all else who participated in the B-day video thing, which was surprisingly funny.
The show sold out and was a big success and made dumb old me all squishy inside. As I said earlier, it was well documented, and there may be a little JGW movie in the offing.
Through it all, we continued doing weekend prairie shoots, rehearsals, writing, rehearsals, followed by practice. In the summer, we released "Where the Hell Are You" as a single and it was accompanied by a video (did you doubt it for a second?). The video was produced by the New Picture Crew, directed by weird Al Ouellette and written by us and Al. Really. We invited Carolyn Mark (lead vox of the Vinaigrettes) and Joel Stewart (of no fixed band) to be our stars and ended up with a colourful, funny video dealing with the usual boy/girl/not connecting shit. We liked it, so it didn't hit #1.
In the meantime little voices were sounding off about what we ought to be doing now... and since all our ideas and plans were working out so far, we took a couple chances and ultimately made good art.
By August we had been licensed by Taxim Records in Bremen Germany and had sold 1000 copies of Pull the Goalie, so a Europe trip was planned. Local/national comedy troupe "The Three Dead Trolls in a Baggie," for some reason, wanted to do a series of comedy/rock shows with us, and it sounded so dumb and implausible, we jumped at the opportunity.
We did a 7 week run with the Trolls, and man, it was hard work. The easiest part was getting along with Wes, Cathleen, Joe, and Neil. Wes is a bit of a knob, but we instantly developed a ... Hey, Cathleen and Bernice, what's a politically correct way of saying "fraternal"?... relationship. We all think each other is really weird, but there is a lot of love in this doom. Doom?? Harsh word. But the thing is, I think we all know we're theoretically doomed to do it again. And probably another time. Then the reunion tour. Anyhow, Steve Loree said it best... "a million comedians out of work and last night, I saw JGW telling jokes on stage." I won't tell you what the shows were about because you should have been there if you're curious, and if you weren't there, Fuck you! Catch it next time.
Chronologically this is weird. Nothing happened in proper sequence. It all overlapped. By now, we were well into recording preliminary tracks (yes, it's true!) for our next album. So far, it's being produced by myself and war hoarse Dave Mockford. As I said earlier, I'm writing a lot, so one thing I will promise is no songs written BEFORE 1992. Furthermore, we're exploiting the talents of the players so the album will be a bit of a departure in that texture and songs are being melded by the tools at hand as opposed to outside enhancement. 100% Albertan so far, also.
Suddenly, our healthy 3 week tour was cut to 4 shows. Off we went anyways, for Europe loomed irreverently, and hither layeth our destiny (density?) so we planed, trained, and automobiled our way into the European Indy industry via a showcase at the Hard Rock Cafe in Berlin as part of Berlin Independence Days (BID). As a result, Taxim will be releasing Too Dumb soon over there. We made good inroads so annual tours of Europe seem inevitable. Jr. Gone Wild will play anywhere people really want us.
That brings us to now. A couple weekends back, Nestor Pistor (Ukrainian Albertans will know him) was our opening act at the Spirit of Edmonton Grey Cup Breakfast. Not much else that's earth shattering, although, because of demand (thank you) we are in the process of procuring copies of Less Art, More Pop (vinyl LP only for now) and we will be reprinting Folk You: The Guido Sessions (see order form), so grab them before our discography gets too complicated.
In closing, our next album is as yet untitled. Any ideas? Write us. It should be out by summer 1994, but don't quote me on that. I wasn't kidding about the movie. Al and I have serious plans for a JGW documentary that, of course, will be available to consumers of Jr. stuff. Thanks for sticking it out through the rough spots. There's sure to be more, but at least it gives me something to write about. Finally, it's been communicated to me that the song Obituary for a Fugitive has been seen from the right angle. I hear you, and I know.
Here's Wondering what the Future Doesn't hold in Store.....
Signed, Mike McDonald JGW '94
Mike McDonald - Spike, Spik, Mik, Jerk, His Eminence, Stinky
Dove - Squab, Bird, The Nose, Stinky
Larry Shelast - Thumper, Lars, Chickenhawk, Bun, Stinky
Lance Loree - Uncle Thirsty, Avalance, Wallace, T. Idaho, Irie Loree, Stinky
Bernice Pelletier - Bernie, Burn, Singer Broad, Late, Beatrice, Burnace Face, Stinky
Chris Smith - Scruffy, Smitty, Stinky
Kathryn Rose - Axle, Grizelda, Rosie, Stinky
Jane Hawley - Alford, Fiddle Chick, Jane You Ignorant Slut, Stinky
Ian Cook - Liam, Cookie, Country Jerk, Ontario, Stinky
Ed Dobek - Sparky, The Dobe, Mustard Boy, Stinky
Paul Paetz - Duke Bronfman, Duck, Dook, Stinky
Steve Loree - Reno, Stevadore, Daisy, Rubba, Pretty Boy, The Flying Nun, Stinky
Dave Lawson - Daffy, Lefty, Stinky
Doug Catterill - Slug, Bean Counter, Doug a little deeper, Doob, D.C., Stinky
Trout - John, Brad, Stanish, Fisk, Bum Boy, Skunk Boy, Bitch Boy, Stinky
Ken Larsen - Ankles Headknee, TurnerBoy, Chi, Stinky
Dave Mockford - Sheephead, Mockhead, DeafBoy, Stinque.
What's your nickname? We don't really care, but write in and tell us. Who Knows? ... the person with the funniest nickname may win a valuable prize. ... or maybe not. We just like to get mail.
After 7 Days With Dove
Greetings all, and thank you for the great response to our last newsletter. Thank you especially for the many letters in regard to my list of strange questions. Ex Jr. ace-guitarist discovered that there are 2 and a half cups of tea for every man woman and child in China. The British don't buy it because it's "Green" and they prefer "Black" tea. Ace picker Lance Loree figures that the reason God is much nicer in the New Testament, than in the old is that "becoming a father has really mellowed him out."
One letter we received from Denis in Dartmouth said; "In your letter you asked us to mail you a six pack of our favorite local brew, but Canada Post said it's illegal to send alcohol through the mail."
Well Denis, I called one of my old workmates at Canada Post and "yes" you can send u sthat 6 pack of Moosehead or Keiths. The rules are simple. Pack the Beer (cans, not bottles) in a well padded box marked "fragile please." If anybody asks tell them it's picture frames (or a similar Heavy Fragile lie). Mailing within Canada, you'll be fine. If you include a return address please remember the phrase "gee, sorry, I didn't know." Thank you Karen at Canada Post. She insisted on a disclaimer, so here goes....
Sending alcohol through the mail is illegal in Canada.
Hope to receive a sample of your local brew.
Cheers all and top of the new year!
Love, Dove.
The General Public seems to be aware of the inexplicable staff turnover among this entourage of troubadours. I, therefore, thought it apt to supply the following explication of my continued presence in the band.
Why I have not yet resigned from Jr. Gone Wild...
It was December 7th. We were on our way back from cold and painfully sunny Lake Louise when Mike turned to me and remarked, "Hey, you're coming up to your first year mark with the band!" All too true. Although I've recorded and performed with Jr. Gone Wild for over four years, I've only been among the full-fledged, full-time fold since mid-November 1992. As a matter of fact, a December 7th acoustic gig was the first time I'd joined the guys on a stage in full JGW status. Mercy!!
These have been the best of times and the worst of times. The previous day's soak in an outdoor hot tub in Lake Louise with my breath crystallizing and glistening in the sunbeams certainly rates as one of the superior moments. I can say the same for our gig at the Hard Rock Cafe in Berlin (yes, Germany!) when the audience started tossing flowers on stage (okay, maybe some of them were intended for Lance but I got to them first goddamit!)
Playing hungover for a hellacious audience in a nameless town while Mike and Dove seemed near demise from some typhoid-like illness vies for a place near the nadir of 1993's circuit. But the absolute worst was forcing myself out of my home and onto the stage when my daughter was delirious with a 104 degree fever.
We're all triumphant in our perseverance over this year's rigours (Free Trade and Constitutional Debates, Recession Mumbo-Jumbo, Rent Increases, the loss of Frank Zappa...) I hope the New Year brings its honeyed moments of glory to each of you as you strike out on new paths or re-negotiate familiar trails in 1994.
Remember... STAY IN HARMONY!!
Bernice
Growing up as I did in the idyllic punk rock suburbs of a small sorority town, I had heard the storied tales of life on the road with Jr. Gone Wild. I could never believe the legends though. They seemed too fantastic to be true. Until it happened to me.
I remember that fateful day so clearly. I was quietly bowling a few frames, and then as if it came from out of the blue, Mike McDonald said that Trout was quitting and asked me if I wanted to work with Jr. There I was, a humble, unworldly guitar tech from the wrong side of the tracks -- I didn't even have a cool nickname -- and I want to work with Jr.? with trepidation, I accepted.
And Oh! Such wonders the like of which I had never dreamt were soon mine to behold. Things like humourously thrown crushed beer cans; beer slicks; sprained ankles and bags of ice; easily unnoticed lead pipes which hang from the ceiling just a bit too low; stages with fall away ledges and of course, the relentless bible study classes during the van trips, to keep our Hearts pure and our minds strong against the road's may temptations. Quel excitement! Quel glamour! But never could I have seen the sublime beauty of the Lester B. Pearson Airport interlude.
As is the Jr. custom, we prepared ourselves thoroughly for departure. Everyone studied polite German phrases, brushed their teeth, and went to bed early the night before leaving. Come Thursday, we gathered in plenty of time and had a leisurely drive on the QEW en route to Pearson. As usual, everything went smoothly and the Lufthansa counter was found without incident. Then the moment arrived: with the practised hand of experience, Thumper was the first to give his ticket and passport to the woman at the counter and she spoke those fateful words that I shall hear for the rest of my days: "You realize, of course, that this ticket is for tomorrow?" Bliss! Rapture! Epiphany! The Jr. stories were true! How could I have ever doubted?
Sadly, though, I am ruined now for my small sorority town. How could I ever return and look my past in the eyes with unsullied conscience? I suppose, as with all my knowledge gained something must be given. For me, it was my innocence.
Ken Larsen
Jr. Gone Wild
P.O. Box 206
Edmonton, Alberta
Canada
T5l 2L8
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