- Photo courtesy of Kriss10 Industries
"Oranges and lemons" say the bells of St. Clement's
"You owe me five farthings" say the bells of St. Martin's
"When will you pay me?" say the bells of Old Bailey
"When I grow rich" say the bells of Shoreditch
"When will that be?" say the bells of Stepney
"I do not know" say the great bells of Bow
"Hell's Bells!" says the marquee at the Rogers Arena.
Tonight there are two major disturbances in the GVA. The larger of the two, is the AC/DC show at the big pro-sports centre. The other, will be performing at one of the oldest operating music venues in Vancouver...The Railway Club, located on the corner of Dunsmuir and Seymour.
As I walked south up Richards Street towards the Holy Rosary Cathedral, my attention was seized by it's ringing bells. While I stood there looking up towards the sound, I saw a flash in the periphery of my vision and turned to witness St. Elmo's Fire hop from the roof of Rogers Arena, down onto the trolley-bus cables of Dunsmuir street, and then creep past me, sizzling along the wires westward.
Whoooooa! Mercy!!
Lightening can really grab your attention! After absorbing the magnitude of this phenomenon, I proceeded on to my destination. As I had never been to this institution previously, I was not sure of where to find it, but then there it was - a small entrance off Dunsmuir with a staircase leading to the second floor. I was plenty early to ensure I would catch both the feature, Tom Savage; and his guest-from-the-west, Lola Parks. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, I found myself at a poetry reading - which did not cause me concern. I thought to myself, "Perhaps Tom has some additional artists on the bill?" After all, Tom does write some beauty lyrics...so he must dig poetry... but no.... It's just coincidence. After some questioning of the bartender, I am instructed to go around the bar towards the opposite end of the building where I will find another stage - the North Stage.
It is here in this small but impressive space, that the music will be performed tonight. And yes, I would call it impressive. Being on the second floor, and tucked into a corner, it is insulated from the sound of the street below. It feels cozy and has a nice shape and size conducive to intimacy with an audience. Also impressive, is the olfactory richness, a.k.a thick-stink-of-stale-beer...or is that rotting garbage? Hard to distinguish really.... But hey, a lot of beer can be splashed around in 84yrs of good times, non? So I'll let it slide. Ah wait, there's Mr. Savage now....and he's doing his own sound check, as the house guy just plain isn't here. But hey, if you want something done right - you might as well do it yourself, non? Ahhhh...the trials and tribulations...no person on earth escapes them mes amis.
While enjoying an amber lager, I began to mix with some of the other early birds and was fortunate to speak with some very interesting members of the savage entourage, as well as Tom himself. Having left my portable dictation machine at home due to a damaged breast pocket, I am limited to only relaying an undetailed summary account of our conversation. Of particular note, we touched on the subject of the death of selling music as an album. Using an appropriate example, Tom pointed out how AC/DC's Back in Black was the 2nd biggest seller of all time, and how that same album today would not have a chance to make that kind of money for either the artist or the record company. Besides T-shirts, plastic devil horns, and ticket sales, music as a commodity is now pretty much irrelevant. Well.....for clarity's sake, let's listen in on a recent conversation between interviewer Sarah Greene and musician Dave Rawlings instead...
- Why did you call the new record Nashville Obsolete?
- With the music we make, and the fact that we're in this old recording studio, and the equipment we use is largely obsolete and, you know, music as a commodity is obsolete - all of these things tied in. We had a little space in the bottom of the studio and we thought, "Oh, we should open a little storefront down there and call it Nashville Obsolete and sell things that people don't need" - typewriter ribbon, buggy whips, any number of things that have come and gone. Music has changed and we've changed. You could call me a "Nashville Obsolete" if you wanted to use it as a noun.
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It is now time for the music to begin, but I am in no hurry...I have been enjoying my conversations with both new and old friends. Lola Parks gingerly took to the freshly prepared stage and proceeded to flawlessly execute her set with grace. All the while contending with still lingering conversations and drink orders. For what it's worth, may I say it was a pleasure, and I wish her longevity in her career. An audience's attention is palpable. And while Lola did not succeed in capturing it...I would not say she was expected to either. Tom, on the other hand, immediately possessed the room like a force of nature. Presence. To turn ears on and mouths off is the name of the game. And Tom was on top of his game on all fronts. Refined songwriting. Engineered and evolved. Form and function without loosing organic origin. The smooth surfaces and radiused edges of a remarkable performance that flowed as water. Vocal chops that were never butchered and Guitarzan vines for swinging through the upper canopy. The whole nine yards and a bag of chips. I suppose that should come as no surprise as this gig could be viewed as the apex, both geographically and figuratively, of Mr. Savage's western Canadian tour. So, after hitting all the honky tonks in all those provinces and time zones, he get's to play a Tuesday night in Vancouver before turning east and doing it all over again. It ain't a Saturday - but who cares? We all came here tonight hoping to find what we as audience members have infact found, and that makes life real...on ANY night of the week. After holding us willingly captive and silent until midnight, the show was sadly over. I had enjoyed myself immensely to be sure. I slept well that evening, and dreamt of a night sky full of rhinestones instead of stars. Awakening the next day, I felt exactly three years younger and had a cancerous tumour fall out of my belly button while in the shower. I'd say I got my money's worth.
So...Nashville obsolete?
Nah. Quality never goes out of style.
Diamond-in-the-rough?
Hell no.
Tom is already a polished gem.
- Rich
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