Opening for Carlene Carter, Avatar and a Download Deal!!!

Hello Friends!

I am in York tonight en route to Edinburgh tomorrow.

Last night I performed in Nottingham to support Carlene Carter.  She is such a lovely character.  It was wonderful to experience the whole evening, meet some new folks who liked my tunes, hear Carlene and play Nottingham for the very first time.  The crowd was fantastic.

Here is the review from last night’s show: Notthingham Review

I was in London on the 3rd of March spending time with very good friends.  We went to see Avatar as two of us hadn’t seen it yet.  I have to say, I have never cried at a science fiction film before.  Not that this is just any sci fi film, but it could be likened to the hype that Star Wars received.

I found myself getting angry and then I found myself in a state of mourning.  We know that we turn blind eye to the same types of actions toward indigenous folks here on earth.  I loved the film.  Loved it.  But I suppose the idealist in me wonders if at some point there will be the kind of peace that turns even the heart of the general toward God.  That despite himself, he will experience conversion… and that he has the same essence as the other people.

I recently attended an Evening of Stories in Nashville and one of the entertainers was writer Donald Miller, doing readings from blogs and books.  I received his new book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years and its gotten me thinking even more about story.  If that is possible.  And of course it is.

I think to myself… why do we humans seem to almost celebrate suffering?  What I mean by this is without the adversity, the conflict, without even the villainous behaviour of the general what would Avatar have looked like as a film?  If we had seen a bunch of beautiful carnal blue people blissfully living out their lives in harmony with the forest, would we have sat there for 3 hours?  Would it have felt long to sit there?

I’m not suggesting its okay to exploit native land because it makes the human story more interesting, but it seems humans sure want something to fight for.  We need someone to play the villain in our own lives so that things can be black and white.

Seriously, I was gutted when that tree came down.  Gutted.  It made me frustrated and it broke my heart that this movie is inspired by the corporate monarchy and by the moderate’s inertia.

And yet, it felt good to cheer for the exploited, to know deep down what I would choose.  To feel that I have an understanding of what it means to be a part of a brother and sisterhood.

When I was a young girl, I used to run through my own woods barefoot, and pretend to be a little spear warrior.  I would practice at not being a blundering human as Tolkien described humans compared to hobbits.  I could feel my fellow theatre goers wanting to “go back to the land” right after the film was over.  And when we set out to get to the double decker bus stop in time, we ran as though we were remembering how to be carnal creatures and I even cleared a stack of garbage like a wild cat.

I don’t really have a point to my thoughts on villains and conflict and adversity except that I wish for the villain’s sake they didn’t have to be one.  I also know that I have a little villain in me lurking about in dark places and shouldn’t judge other folks too much, but still push for what I know is right.

So- here I am in York.  I am so spoiled.  I walked around York Minster Abbey today, then had tea with scones and clotted cream at Betty’s and then attended Evensong at York Minster.  The Evensong was very beautiful as well as interesting because they are very traditional.  They do the service very much the way it was done in the Sixteenth Century.  There is so much history here.  Constantine stands outside the Abbey and I try to go back in time and feel what it might have felt like then.  I am never dissatisfied when I visit this walking city.  When I’m within the walls, I picture myself attending music school here skipping along the cobblestone in some unique, comfy little boots.

But back to the task at hand!  And that is to get my listeners and friends out there to help me let other people know about my album Lions and Werewolves!  Click here to tell your friends about me and get a free mp3!

Also- if you sleuth around online there is a password being passed around like a bad rumour!  If you find the password, you can download both my records Unsettled Down and Lions and Werewolves for 5 bucks a piece!  Here’s a hint: its called the “Be Brave” campaign. (wink)

I hope you are well wherever you are and that you are choosing to be the hero in your own story and not the villainous, treacherous, exploitive meanie!

much love,

Alana

Reminiscing

May 12, 2009

Yesterday I spent a half hour (really… what a waste of time) reminiscing some of my travels by playing with the “5 famous Landmarks I’ve seen” application on facebook. It was fun actually because memories came to the surface that probably needed to and it made me really pumped about the upcoming tours and travels for this spring and summer.

One memory in particular that keeps haunting me is connected to Picasso. How romantic. When I think about Picasso as a man, I imagine how I would act around him. My guess is that he would have hated me and I would’ve loathed him because he liked his women to fight over him and I would’ve done my absolute best (again a waste of time) to make sure he knew I’d rather drown than fight over him or for him. But there is one painting of his that I would fight for and have fought for. It is a self portrait of him from the Blue period.

When I was eighteen, I found myself, at one point, penniless in Boston. Hanging out at the House of Blues, visiting with other travelers who would share their wine with me at little pubs and cafes (as I was underaged). I was a bit of a romantic. I remember philosophizing with a beautiful German woman in a cafe… smoking her long cigarettes and discussing things like universal love or why it is good to be good etc. I won’t laugh at my younger self because that is what I love about youth… the fantastic fantasies and innocent beliefs and then the overwhelming joy and pain one goes through as their presuppositions shift and grow (or shrink).

While I was in Boston, much of Picasso’s body of work was on display at the Museum of Fine Arts. Remember, I mentioned already that I was penniless. When some people say they’re broke, they don’t take into account that they have savings or stocks or whatever. But me, I had ten dollars after having paid for a hostel for three nights… so I walked everywhere and was hungry at times. Most of the museum was accessible for free… so I wandered and soaked in Monet, Rembrandt, Durer etc. But it cost to get into the Picasso exhibit, so I would stand outside the entrance and crane my neck to get a glimpse of his work. I wanted to see that portrait so bad.

But I didn’t see it.

Fast forward three years. I’m in Paris with my then boyfriend. I insisted we go to the Musee Picasso. I was excited. I thought, this is it! I will finally get to see this painting! What will I feel when I look at it? How much have I changed since I was in Boston? I felt as though I was a satellite for this piece of art like Picasso’s women were for him. When I entered the building I was thrilled to just walk around and see his sculptures and sketches and paintings… sort of holding off, trying to work up to seeing the elusive painting closer to the end. But… the floor where his portrait hung was under restoration and I was unable to view it. Strike two.

In 2006 when I performed with Dar Williams and Caroline Herring in Paris I flew in four days early and spent those days by myself. Walking the streets of Paris. Standing in front of the Notre Dame Cathedral, looking at John the Baptizer holding his head in his hands. Drinking espresso in the Latin Quarter. Writing in my journal, all-the-while fighting a manic impression of myself … the cynic vs the romantic. Do I enjoy writing in my journal in the Latin Quarter sipping my espresso? Hell yeah! Do I feel like a poser? Hell yeah.

One of the main reasons for flying into Paris early was to revisit Musee Picasso and finally get to view the painting. But… it eluded me once again… it was on tour in Berlin. I did however end up meeting a man from Brussels in a red scarf while I was perusing the museum this time and we went to a quaint place close by for delicious red wine and good conversation.

Do you ever wonder why a particular song or a certain painting strikes home to you? Why do I like to play soccer and not volleyball? What is it about this painting that appeals to me so much? If ever I do get to see it, I imagine that I will take my time looking at it. I will let it sink in very slowly… that I am finally able to look at it with my very own eyes

I am excited to hit the road once again playing songs from my new record Lions and Werewolves. See you out there… and if anyone ever wants to buy me a print as a gift… now you know!

Much love, alana

Graceland

February 27, 2009

“Time is jammed and flyin’ fast.” – Rodney Crowell

It seems that every time I come to Nashville I have an album that I lean on for my tears and laughter as I drive around by myself from one co-write to another or to meet some other incredible human being for coffee. Rodney Crowell’s new record Sex and Gasoline is my listening post this time. It is speaking the words I can’t say and hearing the words I can’t speak to anyone.

It was Ryan Adam’s Cold Roses last time. Must be a thing.

Last night, I had the privilege of hearing part of Julie and Buddy Miller’s new record entitled Written in Chalk, out next Tuesday, and it brought me to tears. Go and get it people… it is important and true and beautiful.

Wrestling with being in one place or continuing to move is the fate of the musician/story teller. Keeping your heart in one piece as you move from city to city is the great challenge… as you care about folks who need their emotional black belt to keep on loving you. It is key for those who love us to believe in the greater good because reflections on the human story are as important as bread and water. We need artists who are living and breathing within the cultural context of our age … it is so integral to a healthy world and it is a sacrifice to keep going especially when business is in transition and our futures are always uncertain. The interesting revelation on that though, is that everyone’s future is uncertain it is just more acutely obvious in art entrepreneurial realms . We’re not really in control. We only have our own behaviour to worry about. I have a line in a song I’m working on “Here we are, full grown, with nothing on this earth to call our own… but a point of view and some skin and bones… and its okay.”

My new friend Katy Bowser and I were talking about how story tellers are like Wall E … going around picking up stuff in the world and trying to make something out of it. I’ve never been one to be put into a box and labeled… (in fact that is the quickest way to get a bad reaction out of me)… but perhaps I ought to start embracing the stereo-type. Whatever that means. I am a cycling, soccer playing, singing, song writing, story telling, traveling, loving, mystery embracing fool, who owns a lot of footwear and I never want to lose the light in me. When my 3 year old friend asks his mom “is Alana a kid?” I fill with the good pride.

To all my fans out there… every time you listen you are partaking in my life and I thank you for it. It will be a pleasure to be spinning on your stereos once again with the new music and coming to your towns and cities and speaking with you about what is new in your lives.

Hadrian my VW Jetta, has been consistent and reliable and so ridiculously good on fuel. I will miss him when I pull into Toronto and drop him off at headquarters. A good car is like a good guitar… you’re connected for life. I’m taking him to the Nashville Predator’s/Pheonix Coyotes game tonight… I’ll say hello to Gretzky for you!

When I was 3 my folks sold their baby pink VW beetle and I ran down the lane after it crying as the buyer drove away with it. That is me in a nutshell… I’m a 3 year old, chasing cars.

Much love, alana