band, brothers, blog

Summer in the prairies. This past weekend we took an unusual trip through Saskatchewan and Manitoba, for what we warned our fill-in drummer would be three very, very different shows. It was a lot of coming home, literally and figuratively, and a lot of the good things this band was built on.

The shows were built around an invitation to play a terribly unique, likely once-in-a-lifetime show.  The tiny rural community of Inglis, Manitoba is home to five grain elevators, all restored and preserved and deemed an historical site by the government. An annex to one of these elevators hosts a fascinating collection of photos and art telling the history of the grain elevator as a centre piece to the agricultural life on the Canadian prairies. This is where we would play.  Beyond our name, which already made this event drip with irony, if you know our songs you will sense the even deeper relevance for this event.  We had to do it.

So we booked a couple gigs along the way, as we hadn’t played Regina or Winnipeg for almost two years.  Regina boasted a show in a renovated church, now a concert hall with basement lounge. It was lovely, and Glen recalled his teen years growing up in the city, chasing a girl and following her to a bible study in that same church’s balcony. Surreal. Great people and show. Follow that up with a stay at the Angus’ sister’s home in Winnipeg and rowdy show at Times Change(d).  There is a spark for this band anytime we play these venues – The Dakota Tavern in Toronto, The Railway Club in Vancouver – places that remind of us of our own Sidetrack Cafe; landmarks on the Canadian music scene, adding our ghosts to those walls. Beautiful.

Yet it was the time spent in little Inglis, Manitoba that will leave its mark the most. Doing our best not to blast the small but warm crowd with our typical bombastic volume, and sensing their grace as we worked it out. They don’t get many live performances in Inglis. It was an honor to be one of them. A dessert social at intermission, the kindness of strangers, the hospitality in the town tavern after; small town folk isn’t a cliche, its a fact. And they get into your soul with sincerity.

“Burn the elevator down, close the schools for now, cause I’m not here…”

The moment was as cathartic as we imagined. It was like walking through a house for the first time yet recognizing the pictures on the wall, the cracks in the ceiling, the creak of the floor.  Its like our songs were written for this place.  How many bands get this kind of chance? Yeah, not many.

So thank you to the great people of Inglis – for the invitation, for the hospitality, and for becoming the ghosts in our songs. We’ll think of you as we sing them from now on.