CURRIE'S STUDIO SESSIONS PRESENTS NICK FERRIO AND THE WEATHER STATION ON FRIDAY JULY 11TH AT ST. JAMES ANGLICAN CHURCH, GRAVENHURST. TICKETS ARE AVAILABLE AT CURRIE'S MUSIC AT 230 MUSKOKA ROAD S. IN GRAVENHURST OR AT THE DOOR THE EVENING OF THE EVENT. DOORS OPEN AT 7:30 P.M. TICKETS ARE $15. EACH.
"Nick Ferrio is a recording artist and songwriter from Peterborough, Ontario, Canada. His music is deeply steeped in the traditions of country and folk, at once starkly honest and filled with tall tales. He often tours Canada and Europe with a rotating cast of sentimental ladies and gentlemen under the moniker of Nick Ferrio & His Feelings.
His first album, “Introducing Nick Ferrio & His Feelings,” was released in September 2012 to glowing reviews in the Globe & Mail, Magnet, Exclaim!, and No Depression, who said the album "captures the spirit of country music at its best." He followed that release with a seven-inch record produced by Greg Keelor of Blue Rodeo in the Spring of 2013.
Nick Ferrio continues to consistently write, record and perform throughout North America and Europe." From the website of Nick Ferrio
I HAVE JUST RE-LIVED A PRESS DAY, AND NOW I KNOW WHAT I'VE BEEN MISSING
CRAZY DAYS AT THE HERALD-GAZETTE MADE WORK SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING - MEETING DEADLINE IN THE MIDST OF TURMOIL
Don't get me wrong. I'm a thrill seeker. I like challenges, and I've played sports to win, for a large part of my life. I'm competitive to a fault, and I hate losing. But, I'm not interested in climbing Mount Everest, or jumping off the Grand Canyon with a flying squirrel suit. I'd leave an ugly grease spot, in a plaid shirt, at the bottom. When I tell you that I like a job that has a thrilling component, I say this, as a writer / biographer, who loves the grip of actuality, all over my body. It's exciting to get a chance to do casual interviews, and reports of actuality, for events that transpire in close proximity. I've never been very good with a camera, even though I have taken thousands of images for the local press. I have had to, by my inefficiencies, become a better writer, since I began my professional life in journalism, to make up for the crappy, out of focus, too light or too dark photographs I snap. So I write photographs you might say, and now, as a bout of good fortune, every week here, at our Gravenhurst music shop, it becomes more enthralling with special guests, I'd like to photograph, but have to write about them instead.
Now, as you know, by reading this column, I can get stupid with excitement over antique finds, and new acquisitions at the shop, but it's nothing compared to getting a chance to write a story about someone I admire, but can't afford to attend their concerts. I'm talking about musicians right? Well, it's kind of a fantasy job, working here, because there are lots of well known performers, who drop in to see us, each month, and some of these great talents, don't mind dad asking a few questions while they're here. They don't see me as the press, although I have lots of that experience behind me. I'm just not hustling headliners for a newspaper deadline any more. As far as blogs go, they can be far more intimate and immediate, and there's nothing to say I have to be critical, or even a little nasty, to please an audience. When I worked for the local print media, the stories had to have a little punch to them, and be newsworthy, for the front page. Even if only in a feature capacity, the stories had to have impressionable bite. The idea was to trap readers by having a strong, compelling opening paragraph; maybe two or three to suck readers in! I don't want to say I've lost some of the fire in my soul, or mojo, for being a print journalist, but it's been replaced by passion, to just tell these neat human interest stories, that a lot more people are interested in these days, or so it seems; than the same old, same old, distant, impersonal, weak overviews, that accomplish little to nothing for the reader, except time expended in a short life. There are lots of example of this on the market today, and the average time it takes me to read the local press, maxes out at five minutes per publication. This is not good for the advertisers. Editorial copy needs to do more, to keep you holding onto the paper, and that is what the advertisers want. Not a five minute read through, and then having the paper tossed into recycling. You can't really toss this into the recycling bin, but you can click-off, when I begin to bore you. No trees had to die so that I could write and publish a column. And I'm not trying to publish a successful newspaper either, as I was once in charge. So yes, at fifty-nine years of age, I am softer in my approach to reporting, and far more sensitive, I think, about biographies, and what they can offer in wisdom, and experience. But in all regards, I love to pursue actuality, much as a film crew recording a current event. I like being a part of unfolding happenings, that are pleasantly, and sometimes awkwardly thrust upon me; such that I have to share my portals with significant others. I'm good with that, if they let me write about it!
I have been chased out of the studio, at the boy's Gravenhurst music shop, three times today; and it's only two o'clock. It has been a wildly crazy business day, after a rather dull Canada Day. Yes, business is booming. We wait ten months for this, so it has to be good, or we'll be gone from the main street. Andrew and Robert promised I could stay in the room, as long as I typed quietly, and didn't slurp my pop while there was recording going on! Or eat chips. I spread crumbs on the carpet, and Robert has to keep vacuuming around my chair. Basically, they just feel I'm a noisy bugger, and have to be dispatched when and VIPs arrive. Well, by golly, all our customers are VIPs as far as I'm concerned, so if they want a tour of this studio, or to chat with the sound technicians, I guess I have to boot my own arse out the door, to keep the peace. My problem is an old one, and really doesn't have anything to do with the fact, that today, I reached the ripe old age of a "half century plus nine". I am actually a very tidy, and clean man, but because I once worked in a crazy newsroom, with a wild staff, I still tend to get over-enthused when the action gets razor-edged. I shove a press card in the ribbon of my fedora, and hustle for the big scoops. Well, not really. I just have a few more restrictions, than when I worked in the newsroom, of the former Herald-Gazette in Bracebridge. I was editor then, and had a lot more freedom of expression about what I wanted, and what I didn't want; just not to the publisher, who really didn't care about my editorial freedoms. Around the studio, and through our Gravenhurst business generally, we have a very different dynamic, and it drives me nuts that I can't write about half of what goes on in this studio. Nothing bad, of course; although, as far as bad goes, son Robert has to remind me to pick up after myself, if for example, a bag of chips or residue of banana accidentally hits the floor. I write about this because it's my new normal, in terms of being both intimate and honest. I'm not a slob, in my own opinion, but facing facts, all us writer kind are kind of eccentric this way, even with the hats and old sweaters we wear. I hopefully don't write, the way I look like. It's why I incorporate so much information, of a personal nature, in these blogs. It's my new-age, old age commitment to actuality. In actuality, I'm a handfull. That's what this is about. I'm a fixture around here, and I write about everything including chip bags and bottles of pop that hit the floor. Talk about being open and honest. Robert just now hit me with a wrapper of a bran muffin, because he felt like it! He knows he will pay for this. I promise to document the event.
I am kind of a practical joker, so sometimes I leave banana peels where I know he'll find it by happenstance, like on the statuette of Frank Zappa, (a nice banana hat) but never positioned such that he might slip and fall. My son, not the statuette! So today, I have attempted today's blog on four different occasions, and each time it has changed editorially, somewhat based on the event that occurred immediately before. At the newspaper this was a virtue, to be able to wing-it, when something out of the ordinary happened. As you never knew who would show up in the newsroom, to say hello, or to give me a story idea; the same thing is happening here, but these are friends and celebrities we have to protect from customer scrutiny. It's not easy for an old reporter, to control his writing urges, when a great story walks through the front door. But seeing as I'm not running a newspaper here, and this blog is not really meant for newsprint, I've had to deal with some professional restructuring, and adjusting to what can be for public consumption, and what has to remain an inside scoop.
Today, like so many other days this year, I have been up and down like the proverbial toilet seat, giving our special guests some privacy in the studio, even though I can be quiet as a church-mouse, and almost invisible, sunken down in my writing chair here by the door. It used to be just an occasional thing, but now, this is happening more frequently, and while always exciting and inspirational to all us Curries, making up the staff of the music and antique shop, the problem is to maintain privacy when the music penetrates the other rooms and hallways. It's especially interesting when there is a younger audience in here, who recognize the music, and we find them gathered at the studio door, and a few today tried to get into the room while in session. Gosh, I'm now a writer, antique dealer, roadie and security personnel. The reason I had to watch the door today, is that we can't lock the entrance, and customers keep wandering in to the room. I had a customer yesterday, who started browsing around the studio, while I was sitting here, on my laptop, eating my lunch. I asked if I could help him with something, and he politely told me, "No thanks, I'm just browsing." "But sir, there is a sign on the door that says staff only. Are you a new staff member?" The guy didn't offer any apology for opening the door, with an iron speaker-stand in front of it, and had no recollection about the big "private" sign hanging on the glass. So today we had to keep watch on the door, and I'm not kidding; we took our eye of it for two minutes, to move some sound equipment, and two guys had breached not only door one, but were opening the second one when we stopped them. They didn't know who was playing in the studio room, but they had an appetite for finding out. Sometimes, you see, our musician friends are just passing through, or strapped for time, and can only visit us during the day; which means that we either close up the shop, which we have done in the past, or we just secure the studio, and let them play away, with our without our technical assistance. It's not a selling promotion for our business, and we don't cater to well known musicians because it's financially lucrative. We are all music freaks here, so it's just nice to have these folks, drop by for a visit and to jam for awhile; if that's what suits them. Some come here just to practice, or get away from it all, and that's fine by us. We do get some autographs for our wall of fame, that you can view just inside the door.
A few of our musical associates, kind of like the fact, a writer is hanging around, doing his thing, and then, I get to report on the actuality of the visit. I've interviewed quite a few celebrities in my days, mostly politicians, so I'm always interested in getting a guest's perspective on things, and their spin on current events; and even how they're enjoying their visit to Muskoka. We provide a sort of musical safe-haven, and we want them to feel at home here; and a few of them rather like meeting fans while in the shop. We let them establish this, all at their discretion, and we have to respect these wishes. Most will agree to sign our vintage instruments, that we have as our wall displays, or give us one of their posters so we can place it somewhere in the shop, for our customers' enjoyment. I mean, it is pretty awesome, to have such neat and accomplished folks sitting beside you, and playing one of our instruments, and occasionally having the thrill of being able to write about it, in these daily blogs.
The only down side, is that I have to keep running from the studio, when there is a big tour on, because I am kind of a large chap, and according to the boys, I have an intrusive stare that can make some guests uncomfortable. I find this hard to believe, considering that I have been shy, to a fault, for most of my life. Even on my first report cards, the teacher would write, "Ted is a very shy and introverted student," which would send my mother into orbit. She'd march down to the school, and hunt-out the teacher who wrote these comments, and point out, that many accomplished world leaders, artists, musicians, doctors, philosophers, writers, started off life a little on the bashful side. I don't know if the boys are confusing my stare, as the newsman's glare, when in fact, it is just the unintentional gawk of curiosity. It's been a long time, since I have had so much curiosity ripping through my veins, let me tell you, and even in my newspaper days, it was pretty tame compared the guests we get today. Back in the 1980's, we could have a parade of politicians tramping through the newsroom, often on the way to meet with the publisher. I'd have well known writers, wandering in, bringing me books to review, and artists coming to show me some of their latest works. We always had to be prepared for a special guest like Frank Miller, short-term Premier of Ontario, and former Minister of Health, and some of cabinet ministers, if they were in the area for a special event; such as a party barbecue or fundraiser. I did enjoy meeting former Premier Bill Davis, and cabinet ministers such as Frank Drea and Roy McMurtry. Not exactly rock stars, but they were all gentleman, when it came to dealing with members of the press. Minister of Transport, Jim Snow was a great guy to visit with, and so was Eugene Whelen. I spent some quality time with him at the Muskoka Airport, while he was waiting for his ride to a Liberal function in Bracebridge. I've had sports chats with former Toronto Maple Leaf hockey coach, Tom Watt, Leaf defenceman, Bob Baun, Detroit netminder Roger Crozier (a good friend), Wayne Rutledge, of the Los Angeles Kings, Ross Brewitt, my old hockey columnist mate, and former Toronto Sun columnist, Paul Rimstead, who you could sit down with for a couple of days, and still be talking about his milestone interviews after the third sunset. I think maybe it was Rimmer, who gave me most inspiration, about interview techniques and outcomes, and it was all so natural for him, no matter whether he was interviewing Minnesota Fats, Montreal netminder, Gump Worsley, or former Canadian boxer Yvon Durelle. His interviews weren't conversational as such, but he knew how to read his subject, and although some, like Durelle, thought Rimstead had taken advantage of him, and exploited his post-boxing career misadventures, most had to agree Rimmer had been accurate and insightful, despite the fact he had presented, as they say, "worts and all."
I'm not really an old fart, as far as writers go. As a matter of some irony, we tend to have longer lives than many creative professionals, especially if you consider that most of us have lived hard lives, researching our stories, and then writing them for public approval. Sometimes in smoke-filled bars for inspiration. I told a friend once, after a night of drinking, that I'd be lucky to make it to thirty years of age. Here now, I've almost doubled that, hitting fifty-nine this morning, when I woke up and saw the sun; how nice that God had given me another day on this wonderful old planet, to work and play; and write my stories, about interesting times in history, and the folks who had a hand in forging our heritage. Sometimes, there is only history in the form of biography, like some of the neat stories I still hunt and gather, while running from room to room here in uptown Gravenhurst, trying to find a story I can relate. Without violating our patron's confidentiality. But it's just nice to talk with these legends of entertainment, getting a story or not, at the end of the day, or not.
FROM THE ARCHIVES
NEW YEAR'S IN BRACEBRIDGE -
THE OLD GANG, A LOT OF FUN UP ON LIDDARD AND AUBREY STREETS - AND THEN WE GOT SERIOUS - THAT WASN'T ANY FUN
WE MAY HAVE HAD THE STRANGEST ROAD HOCKEY CONFIGURATION IN CANADA. IT'S WORTH A HOCKEY BOOK ON ITS OWN. IT WAS AN "L" SHAPED DRIVEWAY, AT THE HENRY HOME, UP ON LIDDARD. THAT'S RIGHT. WE PLAYED ON A RIGHT ANGLE. CRAZY. WE DEVELOPED HOCKEY SKILLS NO ONE HAD EVER SEEN BEFORE. WE HAD ABOUT TWENTY FEET OF STRAIGHTAWAY, AND A RIGHT TURN TO THE OPPONENT'S NET. IF WE TURNED LEFT, WE RAN INTO A TOUGH MAPLE. FRANK HENRY, OWNER OF THE LIDDARD STREET HOCKEY VENUE, JUST SHOOK HIS HEAD WHEN HE WENT TO WORK, AND THEN CAME BACK, AND WE WERE STILL TWISTING WITH SHARP RIGHTS AND EQUALLY SHARP LEFTS, TO GET A CLEAR SHOT ON NET. IT WAS CRAZY. FRANK'S SON STEVE WAS THE HOST, AND HE INVITED THE NEIGHBORHOOD LADS TO PLAY ON SATURDAYS, AND AT TIMES WE FILLED THE RESIDENTIAL LOT WITH HOCKEYISTS, PLAYING THE GREAT CANADIAN GAME. WHEN STEVE AND HIS DAD WENT TO A HUGE EFFORT TO BUILD A NATURAL ICE PAD, AT THE BACK OF THE HOUSE, WE JUST STOOD IN THE DRIVEWAY BANGING OUR STICKS. IT WOULDN'T BE THE SAME WITHOUT THE LEFT AND RIGHT TURNS TO THE NET. WE'D KEEP DITCHING IN THE SNOWBANK.
WE HAD PLAYERS BACK THEN LIKE RANDY CARSWELL, WHO ALSO PROVIDED THE PLAY BY PLAY, SCOTT RINTOUL, ROD BALDWIN, RON BOYER, ROGER TAVERNER, RICK HILLMAN, STEVE, MYSELF, AND A HALF DOZEN DAY-PLAYERS LIKE HIS SISTERS LINDA AND SUSAN.
EVEN THOUGH I WAS A HUNT'S HILL LAD, AND PROUD OF IT, THERE CAME A POINT IN MY ROAD HOCKEY CAREER, WHEN MY TEAM-MATES STARTED TO LISTEN TO ROCK 'N' ROLL, AND GAVE UP ON THE ALICE STREET SHINNY. I WAS DEVASTATED. SOON THOUGH, A SHIFT TO A NEW NEIGHBORHOOD, GAVE A LOT MORE ZING TO THE ROAD HOCKEY TRADITION, AND IT BECAME THE REAL LIFE "70'S SHOW," WITH SOME GREAT FOLKS. THE HENRY'S HOME WAS THE PERFECT PLACE TO HOLD OUR SOCIAL CLUB MEETINGS, AND YOU KNOW, THEIR WATCHFUL EYES, AND KEEN ADVISORIES, KEPT US OUT OF THE KIND OF TROUBLE TEENAGERS ARE DRAWN TO….THAT ARE USUALLY A TAD SELF DESTRUCTIVE. WE KIND OF POLICED OURSELVES, AND ENJOYED TEENAGE REBELLION BY PLAYING SPORTS, FROM BASEBALL TO SUMMER HOCKEY, SLEDDING IN THE WINTER, HIKING IN THE SUMMER.
I GET KIND OF SAPPY AT THIS TIME OF YEAR. SITTING HERE, LOOKING AT THE OLD PHOTOGRAPHS OF THOSE KODAK MOMENTS, WHEN WE REALLY DIDN'T HAVE A CLUE HOW WE'D WIND UP EVENTUALLY. I'M PRETTY SURE THEY WOULD HAVE AGREED, I'D BE IN SOME PENAL COLONY BY NOW, FOR MOUNTING SOME GOVERNMENT OVER-THROW, OR WORSE, AND I'M PRETTY SURE THEY'D HAVE BEEN RIGHT, IF IT HADN'T BEEN FOR THE CALMING DEGREE OF SENSIBLE PROPORTION, MENTORED BY THE HENRYS. I REMEMBER THE DAWSON GALS, LINDA AND MARION, (I DATED BOTH), JUDY GREY, NANCY CRUMP AND LINDA HENRY…..ALL FINE FRIENDS, FROM A REMARKABLE PERIOD OF THE 1970'S……WHEN THERE WERE SO MANY LIFE CHANGING SHARP RIGHT, AND LEFT TURNS WE COULD HAVE MADE……JUST LIKE OUR HOCKEY GAMES. BUT WE DIDN'T. ALL HAVE HAD PROSPEROUS AND SUCCESSFUL LIVES AND CAREERS, AND I'M SO HAPPY FOR THEM.
AT THE TIME, I THOUGHT WE'D BE TOGETHER FOREVER. IT NEVER ONCE CROSSED MY MIND, THAT MANY WOULD MOVE AWAY FROM MUSKOKA, AND THAT THE OLD DAYS WOULD BE JUST THAT…….SOME DOG EARRED PHOTOGRAPHS IN AN OLD ALBUM, DUST COVERED AND SMELLING A LITTLE MUSTY. IN MY MIND HOWEVER, THESE MEMORIES HAVE ALL BEEN MUCH CLOSER, MUCH DEARER, AND RECALLED MUCH MORE FREQUENTLY……..THAN I'M SURE THEY THINK OF ME, ALL THESE YEARS LATER. WHAT THEY GAVE ME, WAS MY SENSE OF HOME TOWN, A GREAT CHILDHOOD AND A SAFE TEENAGEHOOD…..WHEN I THINK HONESTLY, I COULD HAVE VERY EASILY STRAYED. IF I HAD, EVEN BY A STRAY MOLECULE, LEFT THE PATH I TOOK FROM THAT VINTAGE, IT IS VERY UNLIKELY I WOULD BE WHERE I AM TODAY…….HERE AT BIRCH HOLLOW, WITH MY WIFE SUZANNE AND TWO FINE MUSICIAN LADS, ANDREW AND ROBERT. IT WAS BECAUSE OF THEM. THEY MIGHT THINK THIS RIDICULOUS, BUT IT'S TRUE NONE THE LESS. THEY TEMPERED ME AT A TIME WHEN NO ONE ELSE, INCLUDING MY PARENTS, COULD CHANGE HISTORY. IT WAS LINDA DAWSON WHO CHASTISED ME FOR DRINKING, AND I KNEW IT WAS A TERRIBLE WAY TO TREAT SOMEONE YOU CARED ABOUT. I STOPPED. I HAVE REMEMBERED THE LOOK OF DISDAIN ON HER FACE, ALL THESE YEARS LATER. LOOKING AT SOMEONE SHE TRUSTED, HAVING A HARD TIME STANDING UPRIGHT. WHILE IT'S TRUE I HAD MANY ENCOUNTERS WITH BOOZE OVER THE YEARS, AT THE TIME, IT WAS LINDA WHO SOWED THE SEED OF DISCONTENT…….AND MADE ME AWARE OF THE COLLATERAL DAMAGE OF HAVING TOO MUCH FUN.
I AM GRATEFUL FOR THESE FRIENDSHIPS OF ONCE. THEY WERE THE MAKING OF ME…..FOR BETTER OR WORSE……GOD BLESS AND OF COURSE, HAPPY NEW YEAR FROM ONE OF THE OLD GANG.
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