Taking it All Back, Now (Austerity Measures): four free songs by Betty Burke
Taking it All Back Now: photo by Jennifer Rowsom
“No Drums No Masters!”
It’s not an ideological slogan- it’s a sign of the times. Musical austerity measures. Forgo the rehearsal space and cars that real drums require, and just lay it down with some cheap beats from a rented drum machine. As usual, the songs are all based on true stories. Low Budget- even lower than last time! But rich with imagination.
About the photograph: Jennifer Rowsom took this shot. I pitched it to her as a “feminist art project.” I’ve also re-enacted this shot with my theatrical collaborator Stephanie Markowitz. I love the musical genealogy of the original image by Daniel Kramer. In staging this version, I hoped to pay proper homage to the roots of each of the songs and to my artistic community, as well as to place the songs in historical context. Radioactive fallout is still a concern, but now the cover story on the magazine is about peak oil and climate change. On the mantle Bo Diddley, the originator, presides over all of the music that descended from his inspired playing. Beside Bo, there is a piece of art by Will Munro. Will passed away around the time I wrote “When the Wind Blows,” and the song reflects upon time spent with both him and with the writer Adam Gilders, as they were each dying of brain cancer (Adam died in 2007.) Will’s Vazaleen and Peroxide parties were the well from which my own musical community sprang. Among the records on the floor there is one anchor piece from the original album cover we’re aping (a special thanks to my father David for finding that, it’s rather rare!)
For more of Jennifer’s work:
jenniferrowsom.com
Songs (c) 2010, 2011 by Maggie MacDonald (SOCAN)
Recorded and Produced in 2011 by James Bunton at his home studio
Mastered by Matt Smith
The Players:
Jo Snyder: Guitars
Maggie MacDonald: vocals
Sheila Sampath: keyboard, shaker
Paul Mathew: Bass
with backing vocals by Jo Snyder, Sheila Sampath
Thank yous: Cribbing from Fugazi we’re going to leave it at a simple “Thank you.” Imagine how many friends Fugazi had? We probably don’t have as many, but, imagine?
1. The Man in The Middle
This is an imaginary duet. At our gigs Gentleman Reg often sings this with me.
2. No Sympathy
When I’m feeling down, I throw on Between the Buttons. Picture it, track one- Let’s Spend the Night Together. And it’s skipping. Then the phone rings…
3. When The Wind Blows
Every era has it’s plague. I knew a guy with a lot of friends, then pestilence came. Some friends became activists and caregivers, others walked away.
The lesson of the plague is that the person with the pamphlet doesn’t always “answer the call.” Very often it’s that seemingly apolitical person who, when called by thoughtless, selfless “brotherly love,” does the right thing at the right time.
I know a guy, he’s got a lot of friends
Now let me tell you about his Problems
pestilence comes and grabs him by the collar
Who will come running when he Hollers?
Guilt is a cargo with no value
Competing regrets shout and argue
I pull my weight in Guilt and I press on
Slowed by my doubts and questions
Caught at the crossroads, watching
My mistakes shake, resonate
Making waves until the bridge breaks
If I cross, will I be saved?
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
Then you will know
Only then you will know
I stop in my tracks to read me a letter
From 79, signed “Pliny the Elder”
Sayin’ “Things will get dark before they get better
Don’t look back, at your creator
He told of a hole where a servant died
With Caligula’s stamp by the seaside
Best laid plans dissolve in Messianic time
When the lava runs down the rock No one can hide
The song of the wind I mistook for wise laughter
The sound of the leaves, an accident of matter
The angel of history only sees looking back
The debris of catastrophe is piling up fast
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
Then we will know
Only then we will know
4. The Giver and The Taker
You can outrun punishment, but you can’t outrun the judge.
Solo show Tuesday May 15 at Toronto Fluevog Store
I’ll be playing two sets as myself, Maggie MacDonald, at the Toronto Fluevog Store on Tuesday, May 15th. Jo Snyder will be backing me and also playing a few songs of her own too.
Come by the store anytime. The music is free, and it’s John Fluevog’s birthday so there will be balloons and other surprises!
xo
Maggie
twitter.com/MacDonaldMaggie
Solo set tonight at The Gladstone
Hello!
I will be playing a solo set tonight, backed by Holly Andruchuk and her main collaborator Simon Elliot, as part of Not So Soft, presented by The Crush Project. It will be a short set, with a Q&A. Lisa Bozikovic, Vag Halen and other talented people will also be playing sets.
Vag Halen is an AMAZING new band featuring the talents of Stephanie Markowitz and the proprietors of the Hen House, as well as a guitarist who is basically a young female Marc Bolan, minus the wizard look. Wow.
Here is a link to more info about the event:
http://www.blogto.com/events/48888
Perhaps I’ll see you later at The Gladstone (1214 Queen Street West). Prepare for a Saturnalia sing-song situation.
Yours,
Maggie
Stevie Wonder in the vitamin aisle
Tales of Toronto’s Yorkville neighbourhood feature all sorts of musical collisions: Neil Young and Rick James in a band together- wearing yellow, the ghost of Richard Hovey mingling with the memory of Joni Mitchell before the fame.
It was a different world 30 years ago. Now it’s the site of four star hotels and high priced boutiques where movie stars shop with sunglasses on. Every now and then mystical forces get their fingers mixed in the threads of time, and the past and future intermingle, recalling the spirit of those storied days. My DJ friend Mizz Brown was in the Yorkville Whole Foods with Dr. Bertram, when such a slit in the universe opened, and light from a parallel world struck her eye.
Chewing on a sandwich, Mizz Brown raised her head. Directly in front of her, Stevie Wonder was browsing the vitamin aisle.
“When he spoke, it was as if his voice was coming from a parallel world. We hugged, and it was like we’d hugged before… I felt as if two dimensions were crossing, and it was the most natural thing, as if he’d always been there…”
He wore a black silk shirt with “Just be You” embroidered on the pocket, both in Latin alphabet and in Braille.
“I’m your biggest fan” she told him.
“Oh no, you’re not” he said, feigning modesty- or perhaps the man is truly modest.
This was no ordinary celebrity encounter. If it were, it wouldn’t be in this blog. This is the story of two worlds colliding- the world of inspiration and the realm of the real. Stevie Wonder is a material being, yes, but his endless creativity is beyond worldly, and his materialization in the vitamin aisle is a testament to the ever-imminent possibility of a mystical encounter, just beyond the sandwich in your hands.
The photo above is Mizz Brown with Mr Wonder, taken by Dr Bertram.
Mizz Brown spins at the monthly BORN TO RUN DMC night at Parts and Labour in Toronto.
More soon,
Intials B.B.
In the studio with James Bunton
It’s been a few weeks since our last post, so what have we been up to? BB has gone underground- into James Bunton’s basement studio- to record a few songs. We’ll let you know when they’re ready to share.
In the meantime, I’ll soon post a true story about my friend Caitlin’s encounter with a visitor from a parallel world.
Thanks for checking in. See you again soon!
BB
BB’s “Suede” to screen at Ottawa International Film Festival
People sometimes ask me how I know so many musicians from Ottawa. As a punk and fanzine writer in Cornwall in the 90s, attending shows in Ottawa and hanging around the zine rack at Five Arlington, was an important part of my life. Though I am not “from Ottawa,” I was more than a tourist/less than a resident to its music scene, and I continue to be friends with many of the great people I met in those years.
Ottawa-born Jeff Miller’s Ghost Pine zines and book are a big influence on Betty Burke. I consider Ghost Pine’s guiding principle “All Stories True” to be words to live by, and reading Jeff’s tales about friends and fellow musicians taught me that you don’t need science fiction to have a good time.
Ottawa has given me friends, literary influences, great music, and a distinctive accent. But that’s not all: this summer, Ottawa is giving Betty Burke a film screening! The Ottawa International Film Festival (OIFF) is happy to include Cornwallites in their definition of local filmmakers. It is just a hop, skip & jump; a jump away, after all! So this local filmmaker will be having a big screen debut on Sunday, August 21st at the Babylon club on Bank Street, as part of a music video program that runs 6:30 PM – 9:30 PM. The film of Betty Burke’s “You Can’t Wear Suede in The Rain,” a collaboration with Joseph Clement, will be shown along with other music videos from the Ottawa area.
There is a lot of talent in the valley, and I am proud to be part of a festival that celebrates this rich little land of storytellers, musicians, and film and video artists.
– MM
Got the power of the AM
When I was sixteen, my friend Margaret Ann and I decided to take a wild road trip down Highway 2 to Belleville, Ontario. We had friends living there, but didn’t know their phone number or address. Somewhere around the Quinte Mall we stopped at a sandwich shop to exchange worried looks and twiddle our thumbs. The green haired fellow behind the counter started up a conversation with us, brainstorming ways we might find our friends. His name was Ian, and it turned out we knew some of the same musicians (Shotmaker of course, the best band in Eastern Ontario in those days). Ian welcomed us to stay in the sandwich shop as long as we liked.
Our mood had already lifted when the door opened, and in walked three of Ian’s friends- a girl in a powder blue polyester suit, and two guys, her henchmen, if you will. The girl’s name was Michelle Kasprzak. She had a fat cigar, and a tweed cap, and was clearly the ringleader of Belleville’s motley youth posse. We exchanged mailing addresses, and when I got back to Cornwall, I sent Michelle a package- or did she send the first? We were penpals for two years.
Michelle was obsessed with Glenn Gould at that time. She sent me a mixtape, and a photo of the magical scarf-and-glove man, in one of her decorated envelopes. I sent Michelle zines, and mixtapes too, it was 1997 afterall.
The limited number of highways in Canada means that most people travel either East or West, so it’s no shocker that I’ve had several unplanned run-ins with Michelle over the years. Now she is living in Europe, and I haven’t seen her since the morning after a show at which the Arcade Fire opened for The Hidden Cameras– which should give you a sense of how long it’s been!
Michelle’s career as an artist has taken off over the years, and another member of her Belleville posse, Daniel Cockburn has found success as a filmmaker, recently winning the prestigious Chalmers Award. Growing up in Belleville is probably a lot like growing up in Cornwall, and maybe just a little bit like being young in Espanola or Weyburn too. Teenage artists and art appreciators have the internet to connect with now, but in the past, we met by chance along the East-West highway.
Echoes of other places were always traveling to us though, through the night, on the other side of the dial. No gloom of night can stay the power of the AM radio, for which the signal is only stronger in more isolated places. As Jonathan Richman sings in Roadrunner, “Don’t feel so alone, got the radio on…got the power of the AM…rock & roll late at night…”
Michelle Kasprzak’s beloved Glenn Gould also praises the power of AM radio; in the 1974 essay “The Search for Petula Clark,” Gould describes a stretch of Highway 17 on the North Shore of Lake Superior where the AM radio reception is especially clear, bringing Petula to his ears from thousands of miles away. In the documentary No Direction Home, Bob Dylan speaks to the power of the AM signals that reached his ears at night, in his boyhood home in Hibbing, Minnesota, where the furthest headwaters of Superior trickle down towards Duluth. Drifting over hills and prairie, the songs of Hank Williams and Elvis were carried from stations in Memphis and New Orleans, to the children of remote towns and outposts who spent their solitary hours of darkness by the radio.
Distance and isolation amplify the power of music, radio resonating loudly in the hearts of the lonely, transforming anonymous lovesongs into transcendental breakers, slicing through the everyday to that other realm where parallel worlds ring together in a single chord.
Imagine yourself driving West on Highway 17, alone in the dark, with Lake Superior to the left, and ragged rocks to the right. You hear an oldies station, but do not recognize a single song. The announcer makes reference to the biggest artists of the 50s and 60s, and the names of the dead are spoken of in present tense: Otis Redding and Buddy Holly, two old men in America.
The news isn’t all good, however. Slight variations in the government, wrong turns in a war, floods where the well is dry, all of it adds up to a warning of what could be, what will be, and the temporary and delicate state of what already is. In that other world, there is no Highway 17, because the North Shore is just a sprinkling of mining pits. In that other world, Lake Superior is dry, because something had to be drained to keep the wheels turning. That other world is close enough to touch you through that break in time, the AM station so faint it can only be picked up on remote roads, when you’re all alone. And through the news from that other world, our own world is reflected- the systems and powers we behold and obey as permanent fixtures are only as strong as the belief that they’re endless. And the song of the distant station tests that belief, shaking its foundations with the vocalization of a lonely announcer, who faithfully waits for better days, and spins old 45s to comfort the world in the meantime.
Though we’re far apart, and we may live in isolation, we can pick up these signals and hum along to the songs that shake the foundation of the everyday, to let in the light of another, better future.
Yours,
Maggie
Thank you for braving thermageddon
An extra special thanks to all of our friends who braved thermageddon to attend Thursday’s show.
It was the hottest July day ever for Toronto, the hottest day of the year so far, and close to 50 C with the humidex. But not our “hottest day ever” – which some forecasters had been predicting. We were 2 degrees shy of that landmark.
Ian Daffern remarked on the smell of asphalt rising in the air- not typical in Toronto. Rarely does a wall of heat so heavy sit on top of our city.
Considering the above, I was impressed with the number of friends who managed to make the trek to the Gladstone to catch our set. Thank you for braving the extreme heat to share a night out with us.
See you again soon,
MM
P.S. The next BB blog post will be a mini essay with reference to Glen Gould, Northern Ontario, and Adorno, and our next show will be August 14th at the Summerworks Festival.
Free Betty Burke Show Thursday with Lisa Bozikovic- Blocks Thursday Confidential!
Wondering what to do this Thursday, July 21st? Betty Burke and Lisa Bozikovic are playing a FREE “Blocks Recording Club Thursday Confidential” show at the Gladstone, and I think you should join us. Your support might be required if things get rowdy.
The last time we played the Thursday Confidential, all sorts of mayhem broke out.
It was a crisp fall night, and we were warming up the crowd for our Blocks comrades Tomboyfriend. The drummer (Roland 880 beats trapped in an iPod) was chugging along relentlessly, and we were in the middle of a feverish testimony, when a man in a suit brought a round of drinks to the stage. We’re not big drinkers, but we love free things, so it was appreciated. Tomboyfriend were also treated to a round.
As the gifts were sipped, the man came to the front of the stage and shouted in my ear, “I’m a drummer. I play with Bruce Springsteen. I’m the guy they call when Max Weinberg can’t make it.”
[Pause.]
“What?”
“Let me get up on that kit.”
[Pause.]
I looked over my shoulder at the iPod, which was keeping pretty good time. Since John Power left for Newfoundland, and Dana Snell isn’t available (despite my persistence, roses, telegrams, etc.) the Roland 880 has been our little drummer, saving us a great deal of money. Drums are expensive to transport, and require a studio rental for rehearsals- important considerations in this age of austerity. Roland never makes mistakes, gets drunk, argues, or flirts with the wrong people. But I’m always waiting for lightning to strike and illuminate the gloomy night of everyday life. So I decided to put the unexpected offer from Max Weinberg’s replacement in the hands of democracy.
“Dear audience, should we let this man get on the kit? He’s never heard us play before, but our songs are pretty simple…”
The show of hands was nearly unanimous, so I let him up. As a precaution I kept Roland going, as a guide for Max Weinberg’s replacement. We rolled into our easiest song.
But the replacement couldn’t keep up. We tried to pass him a tambourine, not too much room for embarrassment there, but he insisted on sitting down at Tomboyfriend’s kit, and stepping on the kick pedal. Now and then. As randomly as the brakes of a TTC bus, he stepped and didn’t step, then double stepped. I tried to nod and hit my knee, pointing out the beat like an angry pedestrian pointing at a red light, well after the driver that sped through is gone.
“Ok, thanks, ok that was fun, ok, bye-ee…” I tried to give him the Ottawa Valley heave-ho on the microphone- but he wouldn’t go! Sheila found him rather creepy, I just thought he was rude for not leaving when politely applauded away.
Tomboyfriend’s actual drummer, Dan, owner of the kit, was at this point quite anxious- and reasonably so. I called “How about a real drummer?” and waved him up. He rushed forth and played the Weinberg replacement off, with a nudge, a push, and a sit, the way one might chase a cat from a chair by slowly bending and descending with a look-back of menace, then switching to a full and sudden sit. The replacement came crashing forth between Jo and I, yelling, and knocking over the drinks he’d bought us. His musky waft mixed with the sweet smell of booze, and his odor cloud lingered with sweaty face at the edge of the stage. “You’re terrible! You’ll never learn to play!” (His words.)
Dan picked up Roland’s beat and we all went in for the last number. I was feeling rather awkward about letting the replacement sit at Dan’s kit, a remarkable lapse in etiquette on my part. Meanwhile, the replacement retreated to the bar to write us a filthy note on the back of the receipt for the rounds he’d bought and spilled, and another suited stranger waltzed forth, chest forward, asking, “ladies, is everything alright?”
Actually, everything was great. I apologized to Dan profusely, who was good humored about the whole episode, and Jo, Sheila and I marveled at the Weinberg replacement’s booze-receipt poetry. The editorial committee chose to reject his submission to the journal of Betty Burke studies, but we remember his antics well, at the Gladstone Hotel. He was infamous, though his name was unknown to us.
Once the musk wafted off into the night, Tomboyfriend took the stage, dressed in fall foliage. Actual foliage.
The Thursday Confidential is full of surprises.
If there’s room in your calendar for a free night out with us, please swing by the Gladstone on July 21st. But in case you’re wondering, we’re not looking for a drummer.
Yours,
BB
Here is a taste of Lisa Bozikovic:
And here is the facebook invite:
https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=209701455739535
Betty Burke 
Summerworks Sunday: Betty Burke plays closing party- FREE!!
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Pretty soon Betty Burke will play a show that charges admission, but this Sunday you have another chance to see us for zero dollars. Since we have taken on austerity measures (see the post about Max Weinberg’s replacement jumping on stage), we are able to pass on a significant savings to you, the music consumer. All we ask is that you laugh at some of our jokes- and support the Summerworks Festival!
In revoking Summerworks’ Heritage grant at the last minute, the federal government has given the fest a whole lot of community goodwill from audiences that aren’t usually drawn to theatre. I like to be optimistic about these situations, so I wonder, could this be a moment that politicizes an art form that has been… low on activism… in recent years? My friends in the orbit of the notorious Vinge & Mueller theatre circle might protest, but I am speaking of the Canadian context. I don’t doubt the confrontational cred of the creatures currently inhabiting Berlin’s Volksbuhne. Their last Ibsen show caused a national debate about arts funding in Norway.
In any case, art is a route to the truth, and if it offends on occasion, that’s further proof that we have witnessed something greater than mere entertainment. Here’s to Summerworks for giving us more than entertainment.
We hope to see you at the Summerworks closing party, this Sunday, August 14 at 6 PM in the MOCCA parking lot, 952 Queen Street West, Toronto. We play early, so don’t doddle!
Yours,
BB
Written by bettyburkeband
August 10, 2011 at 6:20 pm
Posted in Political commentary and current events, Upcoming Shows and Events
Tagged with Ida Mueller, Summerworks, Vegard Vinge, Volksbuhne