In-depth discussion with rock art photographer bev. davies including: hippie days with Neil Young and Joan Anderson (Joni Mitchell), shooting punk pioneers DOA and Subhumans, Motörhead in a park, David Bowie in a stadium, Brian Jonestown Massacre flipping off crowd and so many more.
Also stories from backstage with Iron Maiden and Twisted Sister, Nardwuar collaborations, Duran Duran posing at soundcheck, and remarks about various Vancouver venues.
Plus insights about role of photographer as artist, conundrums of accreditation and access, reasons for a long hiatus, crafting the perfect shot, shoes versus sneakers, origins of calendars and exhibits, and plans for a book.
Recorded August 2010 in Strathcona, Vancouver, BC, Canada.
In 2009, i made an very off-the-cuff audition show for Vancouver’s then-new, now-defunct “The Shore 104” radio station with the idea create a rather eclectic music and story-telling show.
The “show” was recorded live in one take, no takebacks (though i shoulda/coulda) with John Bollwitt engineering at his West End apartment. Later added an intro bit which kinda got messed up but anyhow,… the project went nowhere as the station struggled out the gates and soon fired most on-air folks and changed format blah blah blah. As such, getting it off the harddrive and into your ears so you can laugh at my cheesiness and rock out to the setlist.
In a dream state(ish), I keep singing a lyric which I assumed/I thought is by Tanya Donnelly… but I did a crash course on her entire catalog yet cannot find any sign of the song. Also a search more widely produces not a clear match. That said, Internets is limited in my sequestered room. Noting the same mystery happened with the lyric “Grandma take me home, I want to be alone” which later turned up on a cassette from brother Dan while in Saji, Japan on Nirvana’s outtakes “Insecticide” “grandma take me home, I want to be alone” just as I remembered it. By this point I’d written a song in my head with the same riff and lyric. Sigh. Kept rewinding to reconcile memory from erstwhile reality. “Mom and dad went to a show, drop me off at grandpa Joe’s, I kicked and screamed, said please don’t go…” In this case, and this isn’t the first time, and feverish haze I thought of the Atlantic. The fucked up the Bucerias trip as well left me looking east word overwater as though in the Canadian Maritimes, basically something like “the Atlantic she calls you, the Atlantic she needs you she need you to come home.” I’ve visualized lighthouses and rocky headlands and stone houses. Maybe Cape Breton, Nova Scotia where a Buddhist monastery is mentioned in “when things fall apart” coupled with thinking about Leonard Cohen living as a monk on Mount Baldy. The same mountain Gary (Japhy) and Jack rambled (mostly) in Dharma Bums. I had it “the light houses will bring you, the hearth will warn you, so please, please come soon.”
Indeed, this stretch of life for me is about reinvention, changing everything no matter the pain to me or others. This is terrible to think and worse to write but I am renewed, not by choice as I was pleasantly addicted to “old” life of authentic, adrenaline, admiration. But, by necessity, I no longer have ability to compromise to make others content. Brutal but true. Will “it” revenge self on me? Perhaps, but I know I can find silence at the edges and fringes of salt water-even the bay of Bengal or Indian Ocean. Filthy at the beach I saw despite a vantage name. ## Found the song – tis: Cape Ann by Tanya Donnelly from her Swan Song series. I ordered a 3 disc vinyl delivered to Pacifica – “the Atlantic she needs you… You’re the one who got away.” Indeed.
When the road was wide
We walked side by side
Where it narrowed one fell behind
It was okay in those days
We were headed the same way
Didn’t care who’d get there first
You copy you paste you lose
So your bird can sing
It’s a beautiful thing
And you taught her all the songs we knew
But your bird, your bird, makes up all her own words
Which is just what I loved about you
Coming off of Cape Ann
Head to toe salt and sand
And the stain of the yellowing foam The Atlantic, she loves you, you’re the one who got away And she wants you back home
When the road is wide
We walk side by side
Where it narrows one falls behind
It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re all heading the same way
I don’t care who gets there first
Coming off of Cape Ann
Head to toe salt and sand
And the stain of the yellowing foan The Atlantic, she loves you, you’re the one who got away And she wants you back home
The Atlantic, she loves you And she wants you back home The Atlantic, she loves you And she wants you back home
The Atlantic, she loves you You’re the one who got away And she wants you back home
She wants you back She loves you You’re the one who got away
The Atlantic, she loves you You’re the one who got away She loves you