Lynda's Report:

It looks as if it's going to take me forever after each show to write about it, not like I've ever been all that prompt about such things, but these shows are leaving me with so much on my mind, as well as with so many questions about what I should or should not say, that "not prompt" is likely to become "taking a frigging long time". I'm seeing what Alan is doing here as a chance for him to reach beyond the artistic boundaries that circumscribe the world of Great Big Sea and be able to have the opportunity for a reach commensurate with the full grasp of his talent, especially his songwriting ability. And I have said for the longest time that even if he were not the band's front man, I'd go to see him perform simply to be able to see him play his guitar with more passion and expressiveness than anyone else I've ever seen - that has certainly been true for the shows here. Cap all of that off with a chance to wander about in and discover a new country and a different culture, and it all seemed straightforward enough to me, a simple equation with a clear solution.

What I did not factor into that simple equation was Russell himself, which was foolish of me, since I'd certainly had enough reason to suspect that such a complex man would be likely to make that simple equation much less so. My biggest clue was very early on, when I heard that tone in Alan's voice at last spring's Junos as he talked about Russell, followed in quick succession by Alan's singing one of the best-written, most tender, impassioned, and emotionally honest songs I'd ever heard; I could clearly hear Alan's songwriting voice in that song, and I could clearly hear another songwriting voice as well - there was something unique and compelling about what those two writers had created together that had first been heard in Raewyn but was even more noticeable in Weight Of A Man, which sounded like a song I'd expect Alan to write for his own band if there were no expectations about what kind of music GBS "should" be doing or what kind of song The Great Big Sea Guy "should" be writing. Weight sounded like a song that could be a centerpiece for the solo album I keep hoping Alan will do one of these fine days; it sounded like a song that had come straight from Alan's own heart, for all that it was also Russell's idea and written with his own wife in mind. For a co-written song to be so heart-in-hand honest about both of that song's writers is a sign of the kind of collaboration about which most writers only dream. I walked out of that Winnipeg theatre sure that something very special was happening. Which is what caused me to start wandering around web sites about Russell (for, against. and the spectrum in-between), about whom I knew next to nothing, except that he is a superb actor who gets a lot of negative press, and that he had a band that I had heard only on CD, a band whose music I thought had shown promise but which needed more work if it were to fulfill that promise.

When you care about the players, it is a natural response is to feel empathy with them on those inevitable nights where, for so many possible reasons both personal and professional, the performing of the music is a struggle and a challenge, the same way that all jobs, no matter how glamorous or mundane those jobs might be, can be a struggle and a challenge for all of us on any given day. And it really is inevitable - if you see enough shows by any one band, you will see those shows that are more difficult than other shows, sometimes for one band member, sometimes for an entire band. Those are the shows I've come to see as the truest measure of the level of commitment by the performers, not at all unlike how the most reliable measure of character is how a person responds to hard times, and those are the shows that make or break my respect for a performer. It is so easy (again, in any kind of job) to shrug your shoulders and say "Tonight sucks, so I'll just coast through and things will be better tomorrow"; one of the things I have most admired about Alan is that I have never once seen him do this at a show, no matter how much things truly did suck on any given night - I have never seen him give up on any night or on any stage or on any crowd, even the ones I thought richly deserved being given up on. I have been curious to see if Russell would be the same when it came to him hitting his own inevitably difficult night, curious as well to see how the rest of the band would respond to the same circumstances, though I am long past any doubt at all how Alan would respond.

"Inevitably difficult night" isn't at all a bad way to describe the second Vanguard show, in my own opinion and based on a comparison with the other shows, and for reasons completely unknown to and unguessed-about by me. It was a smaller crowd than had been there last week, a full house but not a packed house, perhaps somewhere around 120 or so in the 160-capacity Vanguard, and maybe a somewhat more-subdued crowd as well, though opener Darren Percival did a very good job at getting them warmed up with his unique version of being a one-man band through clever use of over-dubbing technology to create a sound that was a cross between Ladysmith Black Mombazo and a doo-wop band, including a wonderfully jazzy version of James Taylor's "Traffic Jam" and an improvised-on-the-spot song about a word shouted out by an audience member ("beetle" in this case). It was another good opener, another tasty meal served by the attentive staff (I am becoming more and more impressed with the Vanguard, which is a huge relief given how many times I am going to be there in the coming weeks), including more Cooper's and two different but equally decadent desserts; there was even yet another nice pair of people next to us (a woman from Israel and her birthday-celebrating friend - I didn't know that CGee was also going to be there and even though Carol did point her out to me at Le Thor, I apparently do not remember what she looks like well enough to recognise her). The inclusion of some of my favourite Elvis Costello tunes in the recorded background music was very much enjoyed, and since Worst In The World reminds me so much of an Elvis C. tune, it left me wondering who it was who had chosen some of that prerecorded background music. There were MHMH hymnbooks on each table (sadly, to use but not to keep, the only genuine disappointment of the evening), and they were a blast to peruse. There was even a genuine area for merch to be bought, this time with TOFOG t-shirts (from past tours, and a spectacular deal at $5 a shirt, especially for someone with no TOFOG gear of her very own). It was all as exciting as it had been the week before, and when those increasingly-more-familiar recorded notes of Weather With You started to play, I was looking forward to yet another excellent night of music.

Which it was, for all of the same reasons, but also for some different reasons. The band played well throughout the set, with what's rapidly becoming their customary precision and poise, and rocking even harder on the numbers that thrive on such rocking, with no shortage of pounded guitars, flying hair, or seductively curled lips, and even that one brief-but-much-appreciated fling with a pick slide. Watching Russell and Alan stand side by side and sing their first song written together was as poignant and as powerful as it had been the previous shows. Testify was as much of a tour de force show-stopper, especially the keyboards. The set list was almost the same as it has been, with only a few changes - Another Girl moved up from the encore to the main set, what looked to be the onstage decision against doing Memorial Day, and they closed with Easy and Free on a Molly Malone-ness night. The well-told stories came out again, including an explanation of how What You Want Me To Forget came about from his father's painful experience of being told he was too qualified to be hired for a much-needed job, and one of the best of the stories being a continuation of Mickey's tale, prefaced with Russell's quote of Alan's perceptive assessment of the man about whom he and Russell would write such an insightful song: "He's a man who's still amazed by life." Then the story went on to detail Mickey's personal history, his troubled family life, his time in the Navy, and his decision to become a singer in LA because that was what impressed the beautiful girls in the sports cars, and since he was already gorgeous, he was halfway there anyway. Then there was Mickey's "other" job, long since left behind but a role easy to slip back into when Russell took him backstage at a show where he came in contact with those with whom he had played that particular role in the past. Listening to Russell tell a little more of Mickey's story each night is like watching an artist paint a portrait; gradually the subject becomes more distinctly detailed with each stroke of the brush, and it becomes easier to see the real person through that artist's eyes. Russell made a comment at this juncture about telling stories that had no particular point, but every time he says something that works to reveal the person behind the song, that makes the song have even more meaning to me as that person becomes more real and recognisable in my mind because of those stories about him.

But the "stories with no point" comment seemed more an expression of his own struggles on this night than anything else. It was simply one of those nights where it looked like it was going to be hard to get it done the way he wanted it to be done, the opposite side of the coin of those nights where everything clicks and feels effortless, all a part of the yin and yang of most any kind of continued endeavour. Russell had to work hard at it on this night, and work he did, overcoming frustration with everything from a flashing camera (whose user he politely yet pointedly asked to cease and desist from interfering with the attempt to create an intimate mood for these shows, and at whom he would poke a bit later by setting up a cheesy posed "photo opportunity" with Alan, both of them beaming broadly insincere smiles at any would-be intimate-mood shatterers, of whom there were predictably none to be seen by this juncture) to the overly bright stage lights to sound issues to monitor-earplug issues. Russell is one of the most open and honest stage performers I have ever seen - there are not many who would admit while lighting up that they had initially resolved to get through the show without smoking but who now found themselves to be too tense to stick with that resolve and who needed to smoke in order to chill out - so much so that I find myself thinking that as engaging as his openness and honesty are, he would be far safer if he would follow Alan's lead and develop a protective stage persona. Alan's stage persona is so compelling and so entrenched in the minds of some GBS fans that they get furious when anyone even dares to imply that it is indeed a persona and has the temerity to suggest that Real Life Alan does not exist solely for the purpose of making other people happy; what Russell apparently does have are the roles into which he can take refuge, The Preacher perhaps chief among them, and it was both effective as well as touching when his way of introducing Breathless was to "let someone else talk to you about it". This was the cue for a gentler, more introspective version of The Preacher to talk about how things like the Bible, while a grand collection of thoughts and stories, were obviously the work of man, while all one had to do was go out and stand in front of a tree to see that the tree was the work of God, adding that even the grandest works of man, such as St. Peter's Basilica, could be replicated by other men, but there was nothing so perfect and complete as that tree. The final summary, all delivered in the American-accented Bible-Belt tones of The Preacher as Russell played that role to perfection, now speaking in a voice soft with wonder and respect, was, "That's what I think of as the Lord's work, and that's what I think this song is about." All of the wonder and respect of that intro could be heard in how Russell sang and how the band played the song Russell describes as being "a prayer," all of it working together to make that description come true, and even if in the long run it was not to be a night on which the audience stood and danced and carried on - at least partly because they may not have been sure that was what was wanted from them on this night - it wound up being a night where the full attention of that audience was completely caught and held by the players, and the music was heard in all of its power and potential.

On a night where it did look to be a struggle, what I saw was Russell winning that struggle each and every time, his determination rising above all the frustrations and challenges with the same clarity of purpose that could be heard in his voice as he sang each song with authority and an ever-increasing assurance. And he had his band's support every step of the way, especially from Stewart and most of all from Alan. It's not anywhere near so hard to look good and sound good on the nights where it's all easy and free and fun as it is to do the same on the nights where it's hard work, and what took place on the Vanguard stage during this second show gave a glimpse into the measure of this group of men as a band, even more so into the depth of character and commitment of that band's lead player and his chief support player. If they and the rest of the band continue to grow and mature and perform this way on the easy nights and on the hard nights, those who say that Russell Crowe should do only that at which he excels are soon going to find that this argument does not exclude his musical endeavours, and also that their once-upon-a-time punchline is no longer a laughing matter. This is the show where Russell Crowe And The Ordinary Fear Of God has impressed me the most. So far. If there is one thing I have learned over the past few years, it is always to leave room to be impressed a bit more.

One other thing I've learned over the past few years is that there are times when objectivity is over-rated.