. : : November 2nd, 2012 : : .
Being a fan of Luke Doucet‘s latest musical venture, Whitehorse, I was elated to go back and fix a major mistake of my youth: not getting into him early enough to catch him performing with his band, Luke Doucet and The White Falcon. So, when the band staged a rare reunion for the 2012 Sleepwalker Festival, I knew I had a rare chance to right a shameful wrong.
And, up until about 4pm that evening, everything was looking great. Then, on my way home from work, my phone was stolen. Not sure if it was lifted from my pocket, or fell out and was picked up in the some 3-minutes between putting it in my pocket and realizing it was gone. I paniced. There was all my contacts. Important messages. Irretrievable photographs and videos. Confidential documentation. And, due to a glitch on an update for my Go Launcher lockscreen that forced me to temporarily remove my security app only 90-minutes beforehand, no password.
I was irreconcilable. I rushed back to work, and after some twenty minutes of calling and texting the device incessantly, promising rewards, hoping someone would pick up and kindly say, “I found your phone good sir. How can I return it to you?”, I was left with no choice but to give up on my hope for the kindness of strangers and enact a remote device wipe that would delete all of the data’s device.
Or would it?, I thought to myself. Does the remote wipe remove information from the external SD card? Am I too late? Was sensitive information already extracted from the device? Could I lose my job over this careless mistake? What would become of me? Suddenly, every worst-case scenario flashed through my head as I logged into my work computer and changed all personal passwords.
This cloud of misery remained over my head when I walked into The Great Hall — a bit later than originally intended due to the set back, and my favourite taping spots were already filled with patrons. Not entirely sure my nervous legs could withstand a couple of hours of support regardless, I headed to the balancy, where benches flank the soundboard. I’ve never witnessed a show from this spot in the venue and I wasn’t sure how much I’d enjoy the view from such a distance, but any chance of enjoyment at all would require more presence than I was currently capable of.
Every bit of excitement for the show was tempered by my panic. Seeing Whitehorse collaborator Melissa McClelland joining this formation of White Falcon excited me, but the marvel wore off all too quickly. Hearing original renditions on some of my favourite Whitehorse songs — and even the band teaming up at an audience member’s request for an off-the-cuff rendition of McClelland’s song Passenger 24 — should have had me bursting at the seams, but any sliver of enchantment was temporary. I was in an insurmountable funk. There was no way out.
It goes without saying, the band sounded phenomenal. There wasn’t a hint of rust to be seen anywhere, and for a one-off performance, the 15-song 90-minute plus performance was beyond generous.
So, I’m glad that I have this recording to re-experience the show now that I’m months and months removed from the depression that clouded my original enjoyment. It’s not my best recording; shows at the Great Hall rarely have exceptional sound, and the vocals didn’t carry well to the balcony and come across suitably distant, but the clear lines between the speakers and my gear means no crowd noise, no chatter, no laughing or clinking glasses — just tunes. The recording feels a bit more intimate for it, allowing me the chance to right yet another wrong and go back and give this show the attention and presence it deserved the first time.
02. The Day Rick Danko Died
03. Emily, Please
04. Dirty, Dirty Blond
05. Hey Now
07. 100 Years at Memphis International
08. Thinking People
11. Some of You Folks
12. You Gotta Get It
14. Broken One
16. Long Haul Driver
18. Passenger 24 [Melissa McClelland]
22. Blood’s Too Rich