I’ve been rolling out details of the recording on Facebook  - so far that Niko Friesen will be joining me again on drums (he played on both Fell Out of Oz and The Wedding Singer and The Undertaker) and Rob Becker will be playing bass, electric and upright for those wondering. Also that after starting with a list of 20 songs, and recording demos of 14, Steve (that would be Steve Dawson who’s producing the album) and I narrowed it down to 12 that we’ll take into the studio.

Phewf.

Steve and I have started hashing out some ideas – here he is at his studio kindly tuning my guitar for me:

(Confession: I find changing the tuning on my guitar like playing Jack in the Box – a tense game of anticipation! It’s not often a string breaks, but the times it does it always manages to startle the bejeezus out of me).

Meanwhile, I’m practicing more often then I usually do (I can be terrible at such things) and because it was a cold winter day, lit a candle to warm my music room up a bit:

Isn’t it amazing how much heat can come off one little flame?

Upon lighting the candle, seated at my piano, intending to practice one of the 3 (of the 12) songs that are piano based, I instead began to sing something new. Always one to jump on distraction and procrastination, I followed that tune to its conclusion and then put it to tape – er iPhone – to share.

So here I am with that passing moment, that candlelit song – Come Here Little Shadow:

Lyrics:

Come here fire
Here candle light
Help me to stave off the cold
I’ve been singing for hours now
Trying for these songs to take hold
The good part I guess is that playing makes sense of these fears

Come here secret
Comer here little shadow
It’s time to pack up and go
I’ve been waiting
They’ll all be waiting
For us to put on a show
Ready, get set, practice makes perfect
And the best part still is that we get to make sense of our fears.

Well we try to.

Now back to work…

It’s a love song really, for family, and that kind of love can make this time of year so special, or so lonely.

If you’re feeling the former, I hope time slows and you can soak up every sparkling moment. If you’re in the latter group, I’m working on a time machine and will keep you posted.

In the meantime, I’ll be humming this tune. Here’s to the holidays.

WARNING: Contains folk music humour.

You may recall from my video diary Hootenanny for One (for those who don’t, watch it below), that one of my favourite albums during my time at the ISLAND Hill House artist residency was HOOTE NANNY! pictured here:

The back of which included instructions on “how to enjoy this classic past time” that I, in my folk-nerdiness, was rather amused by.

I transcribed it and have saved these instructions through the autumn months – but with the advent of Solstice and the holiday season in full swing, the time has come to share them with you. Enjoy.

The name of the game is “hootenanny.” It’s as old as your grandmother – and twice as much fun. In fact, folks have been playing “hootenanny” in one form or another ever since the Welshe started whooping it up at their first annual eisteddfod. And that, my friends, was back in the Twelfth Century.

For those of you who have never enjoyed this classic pastime, there’s no better time than the present. The rules of the game will be easily grasped by anyone who has already mastered the ins and outs of Monopoly. They go something like this:

PRE-GAME STRATEGY:

1. Pick your place. Suggested “hootenanny” sites are backyards or front parlors. Study hall or Carnegie Hall. A coffee house or somebody else’s house (not your own, for reasons which will soon be apparent).

2. Pick your players. Actually, any number can play. We have found, however, that “hootenanny” is most successful played (as what game isn’t?) by an even number of representatives from both sexes.

3. Pick your songs. At this juncture, we must note tht the game may be played in either two variations.

A. The Classic (or Short) Game of Hootenanny. In this version, all songs must br genuine “folk songs”: i.e., proved to have been written before 1879 by an authentic Union Pacific tie-layer, and duly registered with the Library of Congress.

B. The Whole Hog (or Anything Goes) Hootenanny. This version, as the name implies, allow the introduction of all “folk songs” – meaning anything from Gallagher and Sheen to Rodgers and Hammerstein, who were, after all, “just folks”.

HOW TO KEEP SCORE

Give 5 points to anyone who remembers all 112 verses of John Henry (there’s one in every crowd).

Give 8 points for each song in a foreign language with the following exceptions:

Swahili, Tagalog and Bosnian: 12 points each

Upper Baluchistani: 52 points and your choice of the prettiest girl in the room.

Deduct 50 points from anyone found singing in tune.

ORDER OF PLAY

Player “A” opens the game by belting out the first song that comes into his head. He continues until interrupted by Player “B”, who now belts out the first song that comes into his head until interrupted by Player “C”. The game continues in this manner until all players are arrested by exhaustion and/or the cop on the beat for maintaining a public nuisance.

OBJECT OF THE GAME: having fun.

So now, ladies and gentlemen, you know al there is to know about the ancient and honorable game of “hootenanny.”

Notes by ANNIE HOOTEN.

Watch Hill House Diary #07: Hootenanny for One

(Note: I reserve all caps statements for only the most special of occasions).

The IndieGoGo fundraising campagin for my next album, The Living Record, came to a close ten days ago at a total of $9,390. HENCE THE ALL CAPS because it’s REMARKABLE. There were a couple weeks there where I wasn’t sure we’d even make my goal of $8,000 but in the last two days it just click-click-clicked its way up and beyond!

It reminded me of this guy and how we are attracted to momentum. I’m grateful for it, so very grateful for it. The contributions and comments and encouragement throughout the campaign were downright moving and to already have all of that support in place before we’ve even put the first track to tape (as it were… oh analog!) is an incredible feeling. I mean, people have bought the album without even hearing it yet. Incredible.

And exciting!

It gets better. This week I learned that my application to FACTOR (Fund to Assist Canadian Talent on Records) was successful, bringing another $10,500 to the project. It’s really tough to get FACTOR money – mostly because they get many many more great applications than they can fund and at a certain point, it’s just luck. And I was lucky.

SO lucky. It’s a rare feat for an independent artist to make an album and not go into debt, but that, ladies and gentlemen, is what we have before us.

This calls for a toast! Speaking of, have you seen drinkify.org? It made quite a mark on the Twittersphere a couple weeks ago and I must say I’m a little disapointed that the algorythmic bartender could only be so creative as to add a kiwi to the “Christa Couture” (not that I’d turn down the Pinot Noir) – see “my” drink here: drinkify.org/Christa%20Couture. I shouldn’t complain. The “Kinnie Starr” is terrifying: drinkify.org/kinnie%20starr (p.s. I love her).

Meanwhile, now that the album is properly funded, plans are falling into place. We’re looking at booking The Warehouse Studio in February (amazing) and rehearsal will start that month on the 8th. I love pre-production and recording. All the ideas, all the exploring, all the choices, all the happenstance…

I also love spreadsheets. It’s true. IndieGoGo exports a lovely spreadsheet of all the contributors and I have just gleefully whiled away my afternoon sorting columns and tallying up how many of each t-shirt, poster and book we need to make. Bliss.

In light of needing more closet space for the new creations, I’ve put all of my current/past one-of-a-kind, hand silk-screened, pre-loved Christa Couture Couture shirts on sale on Etsy. Use the coupon code WINTER11 in my shop at: www.etsy.com/shop/sommerfugl.

Oh yes oh yes.

xo

cc

Being a solo artist, I loved the feeling of being in a band – even thought I wasn’t in the band, I enjoyed fitting myself into their group dynamic, picking up on the inside jokes, and most of all having other people to talk to on the drives from town to town. Not to mention I love the music they all make and loved that Cris and Joy became my back up band for those nights though British Colombia’s interior.

So we decided to do it again. This time we headed to Vancouver Island. And this time, it was not a holiday weekend. Phewf.

Here are my photos from the weekend – the day before we left I joined 2004 and got an iPhone, as you can see from my addicted istagram use.

(On that note, read The curious appeal of the instagram filter  on theglobeandmail.com).

My cat Gilbert helped me pack, as usual.

While waiting for the ferry, the girls taught me  how to play dice. This is Miss Tess Kitchen, on a roll.

It turns out dice is really fun to play! Here we are, arrived in Victoria, waiting for delicious eats at ReBar, resuming the match. Joy on Drums wears the glow of the tablecloth well, non?

That night we played at Logan’s. E.S.L. being beautiful:

The next day we drove to Port Alberni, through sunshine and show, for a gig at Char’s.

Joy on Drums drinks a lot of tea on tour. The site of her mug, this mug, is one of my favourites signs of being on tour:

This is on the inside of the bathroom door at Char’s guest house – so honest! 

Char’s Landing is a converted church space. The sound is amazing.

Cris and Joy and our stuff on the curb:

Gratefully, on our way back across the island we had time to stop in Cathedral Grove. 

…before arriving at the Duncan Garage Showroom, which is one of my all-time favourite places to play. Here’s Cris during soundcheck:

Missing my husband, I sent him an instagram kiss. Now I instagram kiss you too!

After the show in Duncan, we drove two hours to Cumberland to stay with Shauna. I love arriving places in the dark – you never know what view you’ll wake up to. From Shauna’s living room, snow and sea:

Shauna with Cris:

More dice with Marta at The Waverly in Cumberland:

More snow the morning after:

…and a coffee before the drive home:

Back in Vancouver, there was no snow on the city streets, but I’m always glad for the familiar lights and sounds of East Van.

Fin.

When we left off last night the hideous dragon had carried the maid to his cave by moonlight
He gnashed his teeth, and breathed his fire – the heath quaked, and we trembled in fear

I LOVED that song in high school – my musical theatre phase, or at least the height of it. I sing it still – it was often a lullaby for my babe – and anytime I think “where were we?” the lyrics are instantly on the tip of my tongue.

And where were we? When we left off last week, Cris and I were on tour in Ontario…

The reason Cris and I decided to do a wee tour in Ontario at this time was to coincide with OCFF (the Ontario Council of Folk Festivals – aka a giant yearly conference that takes over whatever hotel it inhabits for a weekend of music, panels, performances, schmoozing, discussions, drinking, remembering, connecting, meeting, schlepping). I’d never been – such conferences are usually so full of desperation and competition that I do my best to avoid them. But Cris had a great experience last year and convinced me to give it a try. “Things are much friendlier with two” as Piglet says.

So I signed up and wrangled some “guerilla” showcases – while there are a number of “official” showcases that take place, the bulk of performances, the nicknamed geurilla variety, and the ones I liked best, run from 11pm to 3am and happen over two floors of crammed hotel rooms. Closer to the time, Cris had to bail on OCFF in favour of a remarkable gig – recording the score she composed for the CBC mini-series 8th Fire – so in the end I flew solo.

Which worried me at first – at this point in my life I’m still a little shakey legged in returning to work (how long can I use THAT excuse for?! But it’s true!) so I collected encouraging and informative tales from friends and colleagues who had been to OCFF before and did my best to head their advice – “have fun, play to your strengths, stay positive, and take names” as Micheal-Owen Liston put it. Kate Reid also armed me with plenty of good advice – like “it’s a mad dash but don’t get too worried about it” and “make up a cool flyer to slather all over the conference tables”.

This is the front of the postcard I designed (and slathered):

Recipe card – adorable, right? But OMG can you believe the misspelling of Ms. Mitchell’s name made it to print?! Talk about FOLK PAS. Hopefully, the truest and deepest folk hearts of the OCFF didn’t notice (because they were so enthralled with the dashing photo of moi on the back), or at least let it slide. #fingerscrossed

Armed with the postcards and a dash (ahem) of whiskey in my belly, I went downstairs on the first night to check out the first of the showcases. Thank goodness I did. I caught a certain Dave Gunning‘s performance and was utterly charmed, moved and captivated. He was delightful. I loved his songs and performance and was reminded of why I was surrounded by the crowd of hundreds in the first place – music! Music music music! I was also reminded – first at that performance and repeatedly over the weekend – how the folk community is so much more of that – community – than any other I’ve found elsewhere.

Music makes you walk on air. At least it can. And it did for me that night. I’m so grateful for that. It set the tone for the weekend for me, always putting my love for music over my need to talk to or impress the “right” person. And it’s been my experience at these things that the connections with other artists are far more fruitful – opportunity wise – than any “industry” connection. Maybe just because they’re so much more of those connections possible – of the approximately 800 people at OCFF, 600ish are performers.

Here’s Dave Gunning (I went to 2 more of his showcases over the weekend, each as fantastic as the last – I’m kind of a huge fan now):

One of the familiar faces I was especially happy to see was Ian Sherwood – he and I toured with Coco Love Alcorn in 2008. We drove my van into the ground that tour and had a great time sharing the stage. Ian is a remarkable songwriter. He also plays a mean sax. Here he is jamming with Samantha Martin in one of the geurilla showcases:

Other musical highlights were Amy Campbell, Lindy (amazing to be one of ten people in a small room for one of his performances), Peter Katz and  Jadea Kelly. 

And while I only left the hotel for 2 minutes once in 3 days, I did enjoy the stunning view of Niagara Falls every time I waited for the elevator. Holy shit it’s gorgeous.

I left the conference hungover, exhausted and in love with it all. I’m so glad I went. I’ll surely be back next year – The Living Record in hand by then.

From there I returned to Toronto. Some of my dearest friends in the world live there and I was glad to have a week in which to have more than just one date with each of them. I stayed with my darling Lindsay Zier-Vogel. We were brushing our teeth together by the end of the week, such fast and easy roomates we were. I got a tattoo while I was in town – she came and held my hand – and she was the first to hear one of my brand new songs Parasite* (*title subject to change!). Here I am in her living room at that very moment of debut:

Note the Neko Case lyric-artwork on the wall.

I also took in much of imagineNATIVE for my other gig, RPM, while I was in town. The Friday of the festival was especially concentrated – first the discussion with Buffy Sainte-Marie  (read all about it in the article I wrote for RPM here) which left me inspired, lifted. I wanted to leave the theatre to find an instrument and sing, to find some paper and write – I was filled with words and feelings. But I stayed to watch the feature film Samson & Delilah. Film festivals are generally not the place for feel good rom-coms. They’re the home for independent films that tell difficult stories. Samson & Delilah is a beautiful film that rips your heart out. “It’s hurtful” as the director, Warwick Thorton, put it when he introduced the film and it was such a switch to go from the uplifted inspired post-Buffy space to the aching space of seeing this film. The film has remarkably little dialogue and I left feeling entirely wordless myself, so much so that when I answered my cell on the streetcar home an hour later, I was surprised to hear my own voice. It was an incredible film.

I had wanted to write about that night on that night – I sat down to do it in fact, which was Part One of this tale (clearly my speechlessness didn’t last) but I became too tired before I could finish it. So here we are now, and here I am back home in Vancouver as I recall the rest of those days away.

This week I head to Aboroginal Music Week in Manitoba – sure to be another inspired and full few days of music and people. Hoka!

& bisous*
cc

But I think it might be on The Living Record. At least, I’m going to run it past the gang. Despite her years, I feel she could fit in with the new crowd. She’s one that keeps being true for me and I’d love to see her get her dues.

Indeed, where have I been?

This trip, and I’ve been away just over a month now, has felt like a hundred journeys in one. Sometimes on tour each town can blur into the next. But with this past month, each destination, each varied purpose, has been a striking shift from the last and I feel like I haven’t had time to respond, absorb or describe any of them yet.

It started with the ISLAND Hill House residency, those two weeks in the woods of Michigan. The video diaries likely captured the best of it, and the further thoughts I want to shape into words aren’t here yet – they’ll come.

While I was there, this is the office I edited those videos from:

A gorgeous spot.

From Northern Michigan I drove to Flint and crossed the border into Ontario to spend four days with my stepmother. She lives there now, though this was the first time I’d seen her there since she left Alberta after my Father died five years ago. It was also the first I’d seen her since my last son died. I cried a lot. She would listen, nod, and sometimes cry too. She lost her first child, her first husband, her first grandchild (my stepsister’s daughter), her third and fourth grandchildren (my boys) and her second husband (my Dad), so she is no stranger to grief. I think that’s what keeps her speechless – it is my experience that those who have not been touched by deep loss are the ones that always have things to say to me on the subject. Those who know anything about it listen and nod.

From there, a long bus ride rolled me into Toronto. It’s where I’m writing from now, though I’ve been in and out since. From here I joined my Vancouver pal Cris Derksen for five shows – we played Toronto, Peterborough, Ottawa, Montreal and a second Toronto gig. Touring and playing with Cris is tops. The gigs were great but poorly timed – Thanksgiving weekend is not a good time to get people to come to shows! Of course we hadn’t realized the holiday when we booked the gigs, but we delighted ourselves, and, I think, those that were still in town and without family obligations.

Here’s irresistibly cute Cris having sunlit breakfast in Peterborough:

Here I am in the trees of Casa Del Popolo in Montreal:

And here we are, feeling the love at a cozy house concert in Ottawa:

The Toronto gigs were especially full of friendly and familiar faces. The show at the TRANZAC was particularly varied with a  kind of “This is Your Life” cross-section in the audience. I felt overwhelmed facing somewhat disparate parts of my life all in that small front room and Cris played first so that I could sip my scotch and get my overwhelmed-shit together. When I played Cris played with me and singing did what it does best – it both picks me up and out, a protector, and pulls me to the ground, to the present, to the people there, divergent or not, a unifier.

I began this post late tonight and as I’ve typed the clock has tipped into the AM of the 22nd – my birthday. So with that, I shall begin the celebrations by going to sleep.

More soon.

xoc

Something about being alone in the woods, something about finding a way to still connect with the world, something about having lots of time to think – and once I got started, I really liked it.

Which is to say I think I may be a budding video blogger. I may also be a budding nudist. Here are the nine video diaries in a row:

Track listing:

1. In Michigan
2. The Piano Tune
3. Graveyard
4. Naked in the Rain
5. Adjusting
6. Morning
7. Hootenanny for One
8. Making Music and Soup
9. Goodbye

Meanwhile, from the stillness and creative space of the Hill House, I went straight to the busy-ness and constant motion of a tour and in a couple hours from now, I’ll land in the mayhem of OCFF. A quick switch from inward to outward ways of being and I’m looking forward to next week when I can reflect more on my time at the residency.

But for now, business calls. La  la la.

xoc

Since I made my last album, the concept of “pre-sales” as funding has reached a whole new level of awesomeness, for all concerned, as “crowd-funding” has taken off with the likes of Kickstarter, FundBreak and IndieGoGo.

Thus, it is also official: I’ve launched a campaign to support the making of The Living Record. Observe:

Oh yes oh yes! Not just pre-sales of the album, but postcards from me, original posters, t-shirts, songs and even my autoharp could be yours.

Visit http://www.indiegogo.com/Christa-Coutures-New-Album-The-Living-Record for all the info and if you have any questions, just ask (info christacouture com).

I am bringing you this news, and my video editing skillz, from a house in the woods in Michigan. I arrived at The Hill House yesterday and will be spending the next two weeks fine tuning songs, writing, and boning up my chops in advance of heading into the studio. It is beautiful here. Autumn had dressed many trees on the drive through the state, but here it has only brushed the edges:

And I am surrounded by these trees. And the sound of crickets. And wind. And nothing else.

More soon.

xoc