Hella Stella

I'm not going to Bluesfest this year.

That festival is tricky. It pulls me in with its killer lineup every summer. I buy my tickets, I go, and most of the time I leave in a panic.

I'm a bit claustrophobic, which is usually why I end up in a panic. But I also hate the lines, the sound bleeding from stage to stage, the garbage everywhere....

Granted, I've seen some incredible concerts over the years. Brazilian Girls will always stick out in my mind, as will Toots and the Maytals and Ani Difranco. K'Naan last year was really memorable. Juana Molina blew my brains out.

But a lot of other stuff has sucked, either because of the bleeding sound, or because I can't see anything. I'm 5'2 and I don't wear heels. It's a miracle if I can see the stage.

My BH and I decided not to go this year, mostly because we knew we'd be too busy with the house. I'm not regretting it, although missing Dan Mangan hurts my heart.

In other news, we found a fridge to buy. It's going to be white and small, instead of gigantic and black. Although I'd rather not have to buy anything, it will probably improve the look of the kitchen to have something less imposing than our current monster of a fridge. Now we just need to sell our extra flooring, unpack, change the light fixtures, have our shed installed, finish painting, and landscape.

I'm going to die.

In music-related news, I bumped into a friend of mine last night, and he's offered to help me set up my closet studio. This includes some ProTools lessons and some additional soundproofing. I love having musical friends who will help me in exchange for baked goods.

Still haven't found my camera cable, so no adorable pictures of the dogs for you. Sad.

Hey, look at these two lovely people I had dinner with the other night. The talented Ian, the magnificent Shawna. I am a lucky girl.

So, most of you are familiar with my cousin Brian right? The one who plays in my band? The highly skilled interpreter of Prince covers?

Brian is also a massage therapist. He has a studio in his home, and works from there while also doing his musical thing. Today, I mosied on over to his place and got a much-needed massage on my legs, which have a habit of going numb.

Dudes. DUDES. Do you need a massage therapist? Because Brian gave me one of the best massages I've ever had, and not only that, but he sang along to a wicked playlist of songs the entire time. My favourite line of the session was the following: "This is going to sound weird, but now I'm going to have to punch you in the butt for a while. It will help, I promise."

And it did!

Brian lives in Centretown and is a registered MT. E-mail me (hello.hella.stella [at] gmail [dot] com) and I'll give you his digits. The man kicks (and punches) ass, people. Don't be shy.

Last night was my final night of the Blues fest. I had fun, but holy hell, I'm glad to be done. My body was not happy about the late nights and early mornings. I saw the National and K'naan yesterday, and while I adore the National, K'naan blew them out of the water. He is so fracking amazing, I got all bouncy and bopped along like the short white chick I am. Fitting.

I ended up with a total of two lost cell phones in my possession over the course of the festival. One has already been picked up by its owner, and the other one belongs to a spacey hippie who is going to be tough to contact. We've played phone tag through her spacey hippie friends, but the girl no longer has her own phone with which to call me. When I finally got through to one of her friends and told them about the lost phone, she said "Duuuuuuude, you are totally like the fairy of lost cell phones, man!"

Mmmm hmmm. Yes. That's me. All I need now is a fucking tutu.

I'm off to a drunken wedding shower in a moment. I'm not really doing my body any favours this week. Here's to weddings and booze! It must be summer.

Oh, Toots and the Maytals blew my mind. Xavier Rudd was great too, but seriously. Toots all the way.

Tonight I'm seeing The National and K'naan, and let me tell you, people just give me blank stares when I say that I'm going to see someone other than Kiss. I know Kiss is legendary. I know they're insane. But K'naan and The National are pretty much the perfect bill for me, so that's why I paid the big bucks. Not for the old dudes with makeup.

Besides which, I'm already totally freaked out about the sheer number of people who will be there tonight. I would not willingly wander over to the main stage. It remains to be seen whether or not I'll even be able to HEAR K'naan over the Kiss madness.

I freaking hope so. Because K'naan? I love him.

I've been going to bed so late this week, and I can already feel it in my throat. Every time I deprive myself of sleep, I get sick. It's pretty predictable, but sucky nonetheless. I should be able to do some napping this weekend - in fact, I'll have to make it happen, because I don't want to be smacked down with a giant cold.

... Especially since I've got a wild wedding coming up that requires me to get my dance on. Gotta fight for your right to party, nece-pas?

My dad is in Italy right now teaching a maskmaking workshop. Just hearing about it makes me want to travel. After my trip to India, I was happy to stay home for a while... But now the bug is back!

Tonight I'm seeing Toots and the Maytals at the fest (anyone else?), even though it's pretty cold out today. I'l just layer up and accept that I'm not going to look even remotely sexy. That's okay... I'm not sure sexy is the point of outdoor music festivals.

Speaking of which, I've seen a bunch of people at the festival wearing high heels and mini skirts... Anyone care to enlighten me on the logic? You know, since we're all standing in what is essentially a muddy field? Just sayin'.

A few of you have asked if I'm playing any Ottawa dates, and the answer is YES! I'm playing at Irene's with one of my favourite bands, The Gruff. The show is on Wednesday, August 19, and you're all invited to come rock the fuck out.

Well, it's folk, actually... So rock out quietly.

The gig in Toronto was good, but the highlight by far was getting to catch up with some of my favourite folks during the 12 hours I was actually in the city.

My voice was tired and at the last minute, I changed my skirt into a shirt because I thought I looked tarty. Hopefully the switch dialed down the tartiness a bit. The venue was great, complete with a creepy stone basement, and the two boys on the bill were kick ass. The room was pretty full too, which is always a good thing. However, I didn't get to bed until 3am, which is something I haven't done in a while. The train ride home was essentially a long, uncomfortable sleep.

I really need to go to Toronto with no agenda. I never get to do half the stuff I want to when I'm there. I could just walk around my fave neighbourhoods for days... And did you hear? Pages is closing! I'd like to get back there before it shuts down for good. I stopped by right before I caught my train and stocked up on Fomato cards. They have become a bit of an obsession for me.

The reason I came back as quickly as I did was because of the Bluesfest... I didn't want to miss Neko Case and Ani Difranco. I'm glad I came back. My BH and I found Milan and we all enjoyed some tunage until the festival finished. I loved Neko's set - she's really phenomenal. But Ani? Kicked such ass that I found myself transforming into a screaming 12-year-old girl again. Seeing her happy like that actually choked me up. Spoken like the rabid fan I am. Her new songs were great, too.

My only complaint is that the jerk next to me blew his cigarette smoke into my face for most of the concert. My angry glares didn't seem to register with him. Hey dude? You are a Grade A jackass.

I have two more nights of Bluesfest and then I'm done... In the end, I'm relieved I didn't go for the full pass, because I would have burned right out. A few key shows will suit me fine.

Last night we walked down to Bluesfest and saw two shows: Iron & Wine, and Ben Harper.

I was actually most excited for Iron & Wine, but I ended up leaving the show early due to extreme boredom.

Not the fault of songwriter Mr. Beam necessarily, but he didn't have a band with him, and he was getting overpowered by the louder stages. I think his show would have been better in an intimate setting, where the chit chat and quiet songs can be appreciated. Instead, his music was drowned out by Metric and the HOARDES OF YELLING HIPSTERS that seem to have swallowed the festival whole.

Sorry if I sound naive, but I had no clue we had that many hipsters in Ottawa until last night. There were approximately 1 million. I don't event think it's the style that bugs me... It's more the spandex, bad tattoos and sunglasses at night phenomena. Drives me up the fucking wall. So melodramatic it hurts. Also? The clothes are generally unkind to anyone with curves. That's enough to turn me off. I love me some curves.

I think I'm done complaining about The Youth These Days. Apologies.

Anyway, we wandered down to the main stage to see Ben Harper. After a bit of jockeying to find a good place to stand, we ended up really enjoying the show. Ben Harper is like sex on a stick, frankly. The dude is hot. But his band was also a real treat... They were really tight and super skilled. I haven't listened to his music in, oh, ten years? More? Didn't stop me from enjoying it.

Then we went home and had some overdue birthday cake for two buddies, and I passed out sometime around 1am. Really, really sleepy today. I need to get a better sleep tonight, or Toronto is going to be a faceplant.

So folks, I'm reading at Blog Out Loud, but I don't know what to read. No idea. Do y'all have any favourite themes that I write about to help me narrow down my choices?

I'm getting excited for:

- Songwriting time while my BH is house sitting. Oh, to be able to play guitar without a puppy howling outside the door! It's going to be like Christmas but I'll be alone and there will be no snow. So... Nothing like Christmas at all. But at least there will be music.

- A wedding coming up in a few weeks that promises to TOTALLY KICK ASS. No catty bitches this time, just love sweet love. And pie. You know how I feel about pie. We've also been encouraged to wear something colourful, which means I get to break out my fuchsia silk dress from a couple summers ago.

- Bluesfest. I'm going to give it another try, because the lineup is calling my name. I cannot resist. In fact, I'll be there tonight! Iron and Wine, anyone?

- This Saturday in Toronto. I haven't played a gig in Toronto in a long time, and I've never played at this particular venue. A bunch of folks are coming out for the show too, so it will be great to see them! I shall issue myself a challange to stay sober and behave. HAH! Just kidding. That would be completely out of character.

Gah, Westfest was so fun! Other than my sloppy application of sunscreen (resulting in two triangular-shaped burns on my feet), the weekend went off without a hitch.

We scored some backstage passes and got to enjoy The Acorn's rainy set from the comfort of the VIP tent. We were originally a little shy to use our passes, since I'm not playing the fest this year and felt like an impostor, but MAN I'm glad we changed our minds. Open bar, homemade candies, catching up with some musical friends and giant hugs from the festival organizer. So much better than roughing it in the rain.

I've got a pretty intense rehearsal schedule for the next two weeks, and then it's the big show. While I feel pretty good about the songs, I have no idea what to wear. This is not the sort of gig where I can show up in jeans and a t-shirt covered in puppy fur. Right now, I'm thinking hot pink a-line skirt and high pink leather boots. Maybe a shirt, too. Or maybe not!

I've been so caught up in the gig preparation that I haven't really gotten my brain together for the wedding that's happening this weekend. At least my BH's suit is dry cleaned and ready to party. I'll have to sort through my closet and pick out something fun for myself.

S'okay though... Unlike at the gig, I can drink myself into a state of Cute this weekend. So helpful.

Shawna is in town, and I managed to quell the cough long enough to visit with her last night.

We decided to go to the Georgetown to see my cousin Brian host the open mic night. Unfortunately, we arrived much too early, and the open mic started much too late. As a result, Shawna and I found ourselves with extra time to burn.... In a sports bar.

I hate sports bars. Sorry, but its true. I hate the loud screens, the loud dudes, the rude bartenders... I hate getting my brain kicked back to middle school where I was a freaky arts kid in a class full of football players. I'm not sure I've ever found a sports bar where I've felt comfortable, unless I get myself there artificially by drinking the bar dry. Then I'm no longer in a sports bar, I'm in Magical Drinking Land where everything is funny and I can suddenly dance like a Colombian.

The open mic finally started just before 11pm, when I really should have been in bed, given my bad state of health. We watched Brian play some tunes, and I jumped up to sing our favourite Prince cover right before Shawna and I split.

It ended up being fun, but oh man, I get the willies in places like that. Luckily for the Georgetown, they've got a good thing happening with their open mics. It was songwriter central there, with about five established local singers there looking to have a good time. Actually, I think everyone on the bill from the Wakefield gig was there last night. That's a rare treat for an open stage.

Catching up with Shawna was pretty great. Since we've known each other from primary school onwards, we've always got plenty to talk about... Not to mention the fact that we both somehow became songwriters. Maybe there was something in the water at that playground.

I might even get to see her again this Saturday, when the city converges on Westfest. I think that festival is doing everything right, and I plan to soak it all in this weekend. If I can figure out how to get my pup down there, it will be even better. It's going to be cute doggie central!

Last night I caught another event at the Writers Festival. I'm so glad I made it - I missed the first ten minutes, but snuck in during the applause....

This one featured Garry Thomas Morse, rob mclennan, Adeena Karasick and bill bissett. I was really just going to see rob read, but the whole show was great. Garry had a gorgeous voice, especially when he broke into opera during his poems. Adeena is so witty, and it was fun to hear her twist words around themselves and back again. Bill was one of the quirkiest performers I've seen in a while, probably since the time I saw Kids on TV play. Kids on TV perform in their underwear with knee pads, if I remember correctly... So that's saying something. Nutty, just the way I like 'em.

Some of my favourite local creative types were there. Amanda, John, Charles, Thom, Luna. Sometimes I wonder if I fit in at all with the writing scene folks, since songwriting is another beast all together... But I always feel comfy at those events. Nice people are nice people.

Going home was a bit... Different. The Market was full of assholes. I feel pretty at ease there - it was my neighbourhood for several years. But last night it was loaded with hostile drunks, and I ended up walking all the way home because I didn't want to risk waiting at the bus stop.

When I was booting it down Dalhousie, crossing at a green light, I saw a car coming towards me much faster than it should be. I don't really know where I learned this trait, but I tend to stare down speeding cars. I'm not a timid walker, and if someone is trying to plow me down, I glare at them while I continue strolling (poor Milan has witnessed this several times, and probably thinks I'm bonkers). It might be smarter to jump out of the way, admittedly... But this is something I do without thinking. I guess I pissed this dude off, because he started yelling at me. My music was too loud to catch the diatribe, but I did hear the last line: "AND YOU DRESS LIKE A BOY!" Judging by the way he spat the words out, he figured it would be an insult. Funny, but I was so pleased. I love dressing like a boy.

I walked the rest of the way home without too many problems. Usually people don't bother me much when I'm walking at night - I may be tiny, but I can be incredibly aggressive when someone gets in my face. Also, I made an executive decision when I passed Parliament that I should sing along loudly with my MP3 player until I reached my house.

People don't seem too keen on bothering an angry-looking chick who sings Jamaican dancehall at the top of her lungs.

I think I might take my BH on a hot date to the fest tonight. My Bubbi turns 90 (nine zero! amazing!) this weekend, and we've been tasked with a lot of the baking and cooking. Might as well have a night out before we lock down in the kitchen.

I've been yawning all day, which makes my eyes water, which makes me look like I'm about to cry. I think it's freaking people out. Other than being sleepy, I'm really quite cheerful.

As I type, my BH is writing his last exam of the school year. It's possible that I am more excited about it than he is, but then again, he's pretty excited.

His experience in going back to school has made me completely change my mind about the possibility of doing a Masters.

I was considering it for a while, probably to study history some more, since nobody can get their fill of history classes in four short years... But watching my BH made me wonder if I was glossing over my memory of poverty / stress / sleeplessness / torture as being a fun few years of learning. Yes, I had a good time in school. But I was pushing myself through so that I could have even more fun doing interesting jobs. Jobs that would pay me money instead of robbing me of my life savings. Then I realized that the kind of job I would probably get with a Masters is exactly the kind of job I'm doing now.

Cold water on my plans, indeed.

I do plan to take more history courses, but I think they'll be on my schedule and at my discretion. I'll take them to have fun. Not to have a heart attack.

I'm thinking of covering this song for my gig Saturday. I know how to play it, but the lyrics are a problem for me. How can I put this... The lyrics... They don't really make sense. So they are hard to remember. I'm trying - I'd like to do it for sure. It's just that "lapping lakes like leary loons" is a mouthful.

The Bluesfest lineup is out, and it's maddeningly good. I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with the fest. The upside will always be the lineup: SO GOOD. Every year I figure it can't get better, and then it does. The downsides are numerous. The crowds. The litter. The food. The creepy dudes. The fucking COST of the thing. The fact that Kid Rock once played there. But that lineup...

I really can't afford to go. Really. But my BH and I are both lusting after half the bands on the roster, and there's no way I'm missing out on some of those acts. So we're going to look into volunteering, selling our kidneys, or going into more debt. It'll be like Hot Date Night every night, except we'll be at Lebreton all drunk on the beers!

Funny, but I was booked to play the festival last summer, and some major scheduling problems changed the plans. I kinda want them to book me this time just so I can drool over The National. Or Matisyahu. Or Neko Case! Or Iron and Wine. Or...

You get the picture.

My parents bought me a pass to the writers festival as an early birthday gift.

While I'm excited to go, I also know very little about what to see. My comfort zone is a sprawling music festival - I can navigate my way through the crowds and always find a concert I want to see. I can spend endless hours soaking in live music. I can sneak in just enough alcohol to get myself good and ripped. You music folks - you know what I mean. No doubt I'll be seeing you out and about this summer.

But how do I approach authors? I read plenty, but I'm not familiar with a lot of the writers who are coming to the fest. And which events are good, anyway? Who's going to knock me out? Who's going to make me giggle? Who's going to make me want to throw things? (Actually, after glancing at the schedule, I think I've figured that part out)

I know nothing of this world. I realize that plenty of writers read this blog - please advise! What would you see? I've been to the fest several times, but I was always the hired musician and I stopped into the events on my way to the stage. This time, I need a bit more knowledge going in. Please lend me your brain.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tuesday night, I went and saw some really bad comedy.

I've been struggling with how to tell you about it, because I have nothing nice to say about the comic who hosted the evening. I've decided not to tell you about it in detail, because frankly, I would get angry pretty fast. Instead, I will offer some advice.

Make up an alias.

No, seriously. If you go see standup comedy and you're not sure about the comic, arrive with a fake name, occupation and relationship status. This will give you a layer of protection from some lame-ass, dick of a comic who makes his living insulting people. And when he says he'd like to see you naked just to get a rise out of you? You can close your eyes and imagine that he's talking to your alias, and your alias is right about to kick his ass into next week.

Feel free to use mine: My name is Susan, I work in high tech, and I'm single. And if the comic is a jerk? I have a black belt in karate.