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Jeff Stone
PO Box 7156
Station A
Toronto, ON
M5W 1X8
Canada
Dear Friends,
What follows is a continuation of notes I made on my coast-to-coast travels.
Lesson: Working Hard Is Good Karma
If you want something, you just have to keep pursuing it. You have to do the little things, even if you know that you will fail. And when you regularly fail at the little things, just remember the big picture. And things don't happen unless you are working.
I cobbled together train and bus schedules and routes and maps and places to stay and prices from right across Canada when planning this trip. I carefully made an itinerary. I got my hands on lists of venues to play at in various different cities. I started calling these places.
What do you do when you are a music-booker for a club, and some guy you have never heard of calls to say that he will be in your town for three days and wants to play your club one of those nights? You probably say no. And I knew that. But working is good karma.
I wanted to play one last gig in Toronto before I left. During the planning, another on the bill turned out to be planning a similar trip as me, and offered me a ride. A completely better tour was born. Itinerary completely out the window. But if I hadn't have been planning the trip, this wouldn't have happened.
Leela, Tom and I worked our butts off to get some gigs that I hope some day will seem like a big joke compared to the gigs that I have then. Touring is hard work, especially if you are planning and booking at the same time. There is failure after failure. And then, suddenly, something great happens, and it was simple.
Like the CKLU interview in Sudbury (resulting in local charting and airplay, by the way). Like the CJSR interview and performance in Edmonton. Like the live performance and interview on Edmonton TV.
Bless the A-Channel. But I digress. Where was I? Oh, yes. I left one simple message on an answering machine at a TV station.
Christine from the A-Channel called back and wondered if we had any CDs. I informed her that I did. Still not expecting anything, Tom and I met Christine in the lobby of the A-Channel, talked to her briefly, and I handed her a CD. I got a call on the cell phone on the bus back to my Aunt's. "The Edge" was considering sending a camera to the Sugarbowl to record our gig for posterity. They called the Sugarbowl. Someone there mistakenly said that the final show of the Evil Biting Worms Tour was the next night (Canada Day). Christine called me back to inform me of this. I called Tom. Tom called the Sugarbowl. The Sugarbowl confirmed that the gig was that night. I called back Christine, but The Edge had already cooled on the idea of sending a camera; apparently it was an irregularity, anyway.
I am confused about the next part. "Wired" is a nightly TV show on the A-Channel, which includes live performances. There had been a cancellation, and after listening to my CD, Wired's powers that be decided my CD was "really cool", and I was usurped from The Edge. There was only room for me, and about one song and a half, as well as an interview.
Somehow, though, I was led to understand that I could play, be interviewed, Tom could play, be interviewed, and if she wanted, Leela could play, and be interviewed. I believe that this is where The Edge and Wired got their signals crossed (or wires crossed-pun intended), or maybe it was just me, although I believe I remember the conversation very well.
I frantically tried to get to call Leela's brother's place. When I couldn't get through after an hour, I called "Wired" back, confirmed myself, said I was certain that Tom would play, and that I would have to see about Leela. Wired thought that Tom was going to play with me.
Tom said yes, when I finally got through. Leela declined. I went to the A-Channel at 7 PM to do a sound check. This is where I discovered that they thought Tom was accompanying me. I was uncomfortable with playing one and a half songs, because I estimated that the extra half would be of no extra benefit to me, plus I had told Tom that he was on. And as for accompanying me, Tom doesn't really know the chords to my songs.
While I was tuning my guitar, the host walked in. I could tell that she was the host by the combination of the dress, makeup, and the way she carried herself.
"Hello", she said (that's what one says-it's polite, you know).
"Hello", I said (I, too, am well conditioned socially).
She gave me a funny look. People do this to me. I expect it. But then she said "Do I know you?"
She was beautiful, and I was Jeff Stone, so I knew that this was not a pick-up line. I looked at her carefully. (You have to be careful when you look at someone, or you can hurt them-"You're hurt! What happened?" "Oh, it's just a look injury. Jeff Stone didn't look at me carefully." "What a moron.")
"Did you go to Ryerson?" I asked.
"Yes."
"RTA?"
"Yes."
"So you know not to touch a live mic."
"Of course! What, do I look like an idiot?"
(The last two sentences were not actually said. I just wanted to see if you were paying attention.)
Then she said "I'm Kimberly Carroll."
"Hey! It's great to see you again."
She told me she really like my CD, and how she came out to Edmonton to develop "Wired". We started discussing the format. She understood that I was to perform, be interviewed, and then do a song at the end with Tom.
I explained that I understood that Tom and I were playing separately, and being interviewed separately. She explained that time was not going to allow for that, and that time never could have allowed for that. I worked out with Kim that Tom would get the last song, although Kim warned me Tom would be cut off, and might only have a minute to play. We also agreed that Tom would be interviewed with me after a few words with me alone on camera.
I called up Tom to explain what was to happen and I went to the Sugarbowl.
Lesson: Treat All Gigs Like They Are Important
A reviewer for CJSR magazine had heard us on the radio in the morning, and decided to come out to hear us live. Despite the copious notes he was taking, I did not clue in that he was a reviewer.
I performed like an amateur on stage. When those in the audience all started talking (including my Aunt Marnie) I started wondering what the point of playing was. I played and sang alright, but spent a good two to three minutes after one song looking for my kapo, which I thought was in my pocket. I started dumped things out of my guitar case (I needed the kapo to play the next song), and finally I had to borrow Tom's. His was different from mine, so he had to explain how to put it on.
Like I say, I was an amateur. I made $20 in tips, but there is no way I got a good review. This is a lesson. Always perform professionally, no matter how small the venue, or how much it seems that no one is listening.
On my way out, I bumped into a Torontonian who recognized me from the Free Times Cafe where I play the open stages now and then. Coincidences and chance meetings being the order of the trip.
Until my next letter,
Jeff Stone