Newsletter 5 We Get Mail

Hi Everyone

I just got back to the hotel after our show at the Birmingham Symphony Hall. This venue is spectacular and new. NEW! An anomaly in a place that treasures everything old…………okay, stop it. Not funny.
We’re starting to get some feedback from Tuesday’s show at Royal Albert Hall . Here’s an excerpt from a review sent to me. I don’t know which paper it was in.
“I cannot help but be in awe of the artist, the songwriter, the band and the venue. As Lightfoot and his band leave the stage, I do not hesitate to rise, from my seat in the Grand Tier, to my feet to join the adulation bestowed by a solid core of tonight’s audience.”
Tonight I walk busy Broad Street in Birmingham with a smirk, a swagger and an attitude…… “Dig this! In London I be adulated”
Might as well have a sign on my back that says “Do something for England. Kick the crap out of this guy”
In response to my laundry anecdote a few days ago, Al, an Air Canada Captain and veteran road warrior like myself offers a few tips. The idea is to get the maximum usage from a suitcase of clothes reducing the need for laundromats. Al says you can get four days from underwear if you turn them inside out. Two days per side. For god sakes Al, tell me I read that wrong.
The impropriety of comparing myself to a dog with four balls has been discussed. I left it up to you, the readers, to decide whether this referred to fetched or licked balls. Mark, you’ll remember, if you’ve been paying attention, thought it important to clarify the issue and to explain how it underscores the whole trip.
“Why are we doing a major concert tour in the UK and Ireland?……………Because we can”
This isn’t the New York Times Sunday crossword. This is do-able. Send me a “Yo-Dude” and a few words of relevance if you understand.
Slept on the tour bus again, four hours, all the way from Southend on the Sea to Bristol. Sitting up. Mouth open. Drool stained T shirt. Four days left. I need that shirt. Quick! Google: Removing stains from dark coloured clothes. Apparently it’s easier to wash out blood than saliva. Another laundry crisis…..……..what a life. I’m living the dream folks.
I’m back at the hotel now after the Bristol concert. Great show, very appreciative audience. Our final concert in England as tomorrow we make our way northwest across the Irish Sea to Belfast.
My cousin Barbara, who still occasionally sneaks up behind me and musses up my hair (harassment is an act of endearment as well as empowerment for her, she works with high profile politicians in Ottawa) has written to defend the National Arts Centre that I was mercilessly taking shots at last week. Well, just one shot really. I implied that the audiences at the NAC were Zen-like.
She said “don’t forget, the one hand clapping was mine”
I was stunned. It was too deep to comprehend all at once. Such a Zen answer! She wasn’t even at the show!
By the way Baba, we’re back at the NAC in November, and I don’t care if one of your cabinet ministers needs a sympathy hug, I expect your usual perky, hair mussing self to be there this time.
Something I’ve been doing less and less of over the last few years is going down to the hotel bar after the show and having a few beers with the guys. But occasionally there are people visiting who I’ve gotten to know over the years and because I seldom attend the meet & greet at the venue, this is a way to say hello. Or, sometimes I just need a buzz which is why I ventured down tonight.
There is a film currently being produced about a unique family experience that is using our tour as a way to drive the narrative. A little more clearly, the family workings and politics are played out as they follow us around the UK and Ireland and attend the shows. They’ve been looking to interview me since Liverpool. Tonight, shortly after I got to the bar, I was approached by one of the characters in the film who is also one of the producers. She’s a very cute brunette from Israel with sparkling eyes, a soft gentle voice and a smile that would have reduced me to a stammering, incoherent half-wit thirty years ago (who am I kidding, it almost happened tonight). She suggested that we do the interview right away and free up the afternoon tomorrow in Belfast in which I had tentatively agreed to be available. Just off the lobby of the hotel was a room with cameras, audio and technicians ready to roll. A WTF moment if I ever had one. I mean, how’d they know? We sat down with me facing the main camera and her off about 45 degrees to my right. We got the cue to begin and she said something like:
“Hello Mike, how are you tonight?”
Most of you who know me can guess what happened next. Eventually, when the camera batteries ran out of juice and the crew were nodding off she said “I think we’ve got enough”.
“I’ve got more stories” I objected
“No, please, we have enough”
“There’s a good one about me falling off the stage in Toledo”
“But we have enough…….”
“One time I played ‘Danny Boy’ in a bar in Ireland as they rioted outside”
“Are you kidding? That’s not even a real Irish song! You’re lucky they didn’t tar and feather you for being so trite”
Living the dream……

What are these black keys for?