Hi everyone;
I’ll have some MadrygaGuitar updates for you soon. In the meantime, here’s a writeup of my last trip back to Charlottetown eight years ago. A few of you may recall reading this on my Facebook page – for those of you who didn’t, I hope you enjoy it!
———————-
Shadow-chasing in Charlottetown, 24 Years On, Day 1
I have a student playing at the National Music Festival at Mount Allison U. this week, so I thought I’d come out a few days ahead of time and pay Price Edward Island a visit for the first time in a quarter of a century. Just for old-times’ sake, I’m staying in residence at UPEI. My room in 1991 had been Bernadine Hall 113; the girl I’d been dating for part of that year had been living in 111. Checked in today to discover they’d cut the difference and put me in 112…
The first item on the agenda was a self-guided tour of campus. I learned a few things:
– Marion Hall (what had once been the men’s residence where I had lived for four spirit-soaked years) now houses the administrative centre of the uni. The Marion Lounge annex is now, of all things, the President’s office. Given the room’s previous incarnation as the de facto playpen in a men’s dorm, I can only assume that it was well-fumigated prior to the Big Cheese moving in.
– The space upon which had sat the former Student Union building (the beloved and venerable Barn) now contains asphalt and parked vehicles. Joni Mitchell wasn’t jivin’: they really did pave paradise and put up a parking lot. Granted, the athletic facilities that are there now are quite impressive (the Uni appears to have cultivated some well-heeled donors, corporate and private), and the SU folks likely have a way better space now than The Barn could have ever become (even when I was there, it was showing its age). Still, it makes me sad to think of all the great bands that the old shed hosted: Spirit of the West, Bowser and Blue, David Wilcox, the Barenaked Ladies (early on, when it was just Ed and Stephen), FM with Nash the Slash, Rawlin’s Cross, innumerable local bands… and the old radio station, CIMN: damn, but if _those_ walls could have talked…!
– Took a walk through the English Department, and looked at the names on the doors – saw just one that I recognized, that of Dr. Richard Lemm, my first English prof. He wasn’t in today, unfortunately.
A hike downtown via University Ave. followed. There are few things better on a hot sticky summer’s day in the Maritimes than cold beer with old friends. Tipped a glass with Craig Dodge and his wife Sara Underwood; chewed the fat professionally, and got up to speed on mutual acquaintances; sat out the mother of all summer hailstorms; made for campus again. Dining recommendation: If you have visited Charlottetown and did not take a meal at Cedar’s Eatery/Baba’s Lounge, feel shame. Feel great shame.
Tune in tomorrow for Day 2…
———————
Shadow-chasing in Charlottetown, 24 Years On – Day 2
Another day of hoofing around. UPEI again in the morning – for a touch of exercise, and also to get a fuller appreciation of how much has changed on this campus over the last 2-1/2 decades. There’s a track-and-field/rugby complex down over the hill from where the Barn used to be; next to that is a posh-looking soccer pitch (with artificial turf! Booo!!!). There’s an expanded Veterinary College, a new chemistry building, and a parking lot where the old (natural-grass) soccer pitch once was. There’s also been a whole lotta renovating of old buildings, I later learned. Somebody in Institutional Development has been very, very busy with fundraising…
Back downtown for a lunch of pub food while watching English Premier League footie and jawing some more with Craig and Sara. More walking of old haunts followed – I swear, I’ve passed the shadow of my 25-year-old self a few dozen times over the last two days…
Victoria Row, Ground Zero for my first two summers of professional music-making, is still Busking Central for young players. There’s a busking stage now; Dodgie tells me that it’s now an auditioned paying gig for buskers. As is inevitably the case, some merit the cheque; others, maybe not so much – but that’s the music biz, really.
Came upon another piece of my past: the acting company with whom I worked for three summers has undergone a name change, from The Fathers of Confederation to the gender-inclusive Confederation Players – and they’re an a cappella choir now (Jeez, they never asked _us_ to sing when I did the Fathers gig….!). Enjoyable? Yeah, they sounded nice. Historically-accurate? I’ve my doubts that Mssr.s Macdonald, Tupper, McGee, Brown, et al., did much singing while they were here in 1864 – and if they did, I consider it highly likely that they were neither rehearsed nor sober at the time.
Supper with longtime friend Chris Vessey and his wife Susan ended the evening. The last time I was in the establishment now known as the Hopyard, it was called Myron’s; I recall one of Paul MacAusland’s many cover bands playing Deep Purple’s “Highway Star”, and a young(ish) woman dancing in front of them in a manner that suggested she was… ummm… quite enjoying the show. Suffice to say that this evening’s experience was quite different – sub out Causie, Deep Purple, and the long-in-the-tooth groupie for a thwack of vintage LPs, Cherry Cola Ribs, Singapore Slaw, and tasty German beer (as well as first-class service from one of Dodgie’s Holland College students).
And so we end Day 2 with the Dining Recommendation du jour. Hasta mañana, todos.
——————–
Shadow-Chasing in Charlottetown, 24 Years On – Day 3
More walking – I had neither a license nor a car for most of my time living here, so Charlottetown will always be a pedestrian city to me. Started the day with an easy stroll along the Confederation Trail from the Uni to Holland College. I recall there being a rail line in this general area many years ago – I wonder how much of the Trail, if any, is the old rail bed… I’m sure someone out there in Facebookville could set me straight. In a subsequent year (sooner rather than later), I’m going have to come back, rent a bike, and cycle the whole thing. Note to the City planners/Parks and Rec/Whoever maintains the Trail: latrine stops would be a really welcome addition….
I sat at the bus stop on Grafton Street to jot down some notes. Yeah, there’s bus service in this city now. I have to admit, though, that walking up and down University Avenue and Queen Street – for the pub scene, for shopping, for dart nights, for gigs, whatever, whether I was sober or not – certainly kept me in shape 25+ years ago!
Sunday is sidewalk market day on lower Queen Street – for sale are wares that seem to be a touch more hand-crafted, tasteful, functional, and authentic than your standard touristy schlock. The only image of Anne Shirley in sight was a teenaged red-haired girl, dressed in the appropriate garb and busking with a cappella renditions of songs from the Anne of Green Gables musical. I think she sensed the negative vibes emanating from the crowd around her – she moved on quickly, before the firebrands and pitchforks came out (and there was much silent rejoicing thereafter – or maybe that was just me…). She was replaced by a young man named Dylan, whose guitar spoke with a bona fide Bruce Cockburn tone and whose voice could have been mistaken for that of a young James Taylor. Dylan played what sounded to me like some excellent originals, followed by a credible rendition of Leonard Cohen’s “Suzanne”, all of which I thought were worth paying for. In a fair and just world (which the arts industry all too commonly is anything but), other people will have thought so as well, I hope. The shadow of my busking 25-year-old self nodded in agreement.
Of course, no summer market event would be legit without the ubiquitous and inescapable Street Meat experience. Where else, I ask you, but in Charlottetown, PEI, could one find a lobster samosa? ‘Twas not too bad, either.
The time came to move on, and chase the shadow of my 25-year-old self back up Queen Street. I had had lots of time to mull stuff over during all the trips I’d made up and down that route, loaded down with a battery-powered amp stuffed into my backpack, my old Casey guitar, and a camping stool. The summer of 1993 was when making music ceased to be just a cool thing to do, and became my means of sustenance. It was a precarious existence financially, but I had the tiger by the metaphorical tail, and was blissfully unaware of my own limitations as a musician. I was out there living the dream and making music for real, man; I was feeding myself off of it, and I didn’t think there was anything that I couldn’t do (Oh, 25-year-old Paul… how you would learn…!). At any rate, It bears noting that after three and a half months of playing guitar for eight hours a day: holy shit, were my chops ever in shape come September!
I eventually reached the apartment building on Upper Queen Street where I’d been living for those two summers with the McQuaid siblings (Monica, I’m mentally playing “Sunburst” just for you as I write this!). I finally let my 25-year-old shadow continue on without me, and headed for the uni, the more mundane tasks of supper and laundry awaiting me. Driving over to Sackville in the morning. No more shadow-chasing for this guy – they’ll be fine without me.
Apologies to all of you that I didn’t get to see this weekend. Next time, hopefully – you can come ride the Confederation Trail with me! 