Shameful Penis

           

            When I arrived at the Tranzac on the evening of Monday, July 4^th, there was a show going on by Terry Jones and a couple of other musicians, including Bob Cohen, on electric lead guitar. When I walked in to the Southern Cross bar they were playing “Going Back” by Gerry Goffin and Carole King – “ … I’m returning to those days when I was young enough to know the truth … Thinking young and growing older is no sin … Let everyone debate the true reality, I’d rather see the world the way it used to be.”

            The room was fairly full, but I found a table against a wall by myself, near the stage.

            Both Terry Jones and Bob Cohen had shaved heads, glasses and white shirts. The bass player broke the charm though by not following the bald, white shirted, myopic trend.

            They sang another King and Goffin tune called “Wasn’t Born To Follow” – “ … Wander through the forest where the trees have leaves of prisms that break the light in colours that no one knows the names of … If you think I’m ready you can lead me to the chasm where the rivers of our visions flow into one another …” Bob used an effects pedal as he played.

            Terry mentioned that the song was in the film, “Easy Rider” twice.

            I thought I heard Terry Jones say that the next song was a “Tear Jugs original”, so I concluded that Tear Jugs was the name of his group. Maybe I misheard or he was mumbling and what he really said was that it was a Terry Jones original. He sang at times in a fake southern United States accent – “ … I know I was wrong to come on so strong …”

            Terry said of Bob Cohen, “Bobby’s taken music and dragged around.”

            He was wondering if there was time to do another song. “Time has no meaning! Give me your watches! Is anything happening after us?” I called out that there was an open stage, so Terry decided to do just one more song.

            They did “4 + 20” by Steven Stills – “ … A different kind of poverty now upsets me so … I walk the floor and want to know, why am I so alone … Morning comes the sunrise and I’m driven to my bed, I see that it is empty and there’s devils in my head …” A woman danced her way up to the microphone. I thought to myself, “The open stage is going to be starting late!” She stood behind an unoccupied microphone, began playing a shaker and singing, either too softly or maybe her mic wasn’t even on. The band took an instrumental break and as they played, were looking at each other as if they were sharing an amusing private story that only they could relate to.

            Terry announced that they would be there on the first Monday of every month.

            I started tuning my guitar. Terry struck up a short conversation about digital tuners, with his conclusion being that it’s ultimately better to tune by ear. I told him that would take me hours, and these things have saved my musical life.

            Chris Banks began setting up the sound for the open stage.

            I was trying to run through my songs, but I couldn’t hear myself against the music the bartender was playing, everyone’s conversations combined into a blabbering hum, plus Isaac Bonk playing his guitar nearby. My chords sounded all wrong, so I went outside, where they were okay.

            No MSG arrived and mentioned that it was the fourth of July. I told him that I don’t understand why they call it the “fourth of July” when it’s really an eighth of July, while the eighth of July is closer to being a fourth of that month. It’s very mixed up.

            We went inside.

            Chris Banks started the open stage at ten after the hour, and the first name on the nine-person list was Isaac Bonk.

            Isaac sang two new songs that were extremely derivative of Bob Dylan’s early sound.

            The first was a lament about the recent shooting in Orlando – “Way down in Orlando town is fifty people gone … Fifty people lost their lives in an hour or less … So who did condone the sale of arms to this man? I tell you it’s our leaders and their crooked, twisted plan … People getting scared of what they do not know … But their deaths will not be in vain if you don’t know by now … Justice will be found for this evil, hateful crime … It won’t be tomorrow when we all stand as one … It’s a never ending battle with ideas not our own … The pride in religion drove this man to kill …”

            Isaac’s second song was very reminiscent of “The Times They Are A Changing” – “Oh come all my friends, my foes, awake from your sleep, there’s a new dawn to meet … this land beneath us is shifting … The burning flash will put to flames the sash … Choose your own side now my friends … now as the water dries from that shallow well …”

            Next was Matthias, who introduced himself and said, “I am from Chile! Hello!” He was very particular about the sound set up before starting. He sang both of his original, upbeat songs in Spanish, and his strumming was very good. During one of his instrumentals he threw in some bits of “La Bamba”. I wonder if it was really part of his composition or if he was just playing it for our benefit.

            I was after Matthias. I started with my translation of Jacques Brel’s “Le Moribond”, the melody and basic theme of which is known to the English speaking world as “Seasons In The Sun”, but I didn’t mention that – “Goodbye Emile, old friend of mine, goodbye Emile old friend of mine so true, We sang and laughed the same red wines, we sang and danced with the same girls, we sang the blues the same bad times. Goodbye Emile, I’m gonna die, and it’s hard to die in the spring, you know, but beneath the blooms I’ll have no strife, and since you’re pure as a white slice I know you’ll take care of my wife. I hope you’ll laugh, I hope you’ll dance, I hope your fun’s out of control, I hope you’ll laugh, I hope you’ll dance when they put me in that hole …”

            I began to introduce my original song by telling everyone that I haven’t written very many love songs. Andrea Hatala, who was sitting directly in front of me and who I’ve known for twenty years, responded with, “That’s because you never fall in love!” I argued, “I have the same feelings that human beings have! I just don’t give them the same names that other people do!” She said, “Sorry!” but there was no need to be because I wasn’t offended. I continued by saying that I’d written a love song for someone that I’ve known most of my life, but not because he needs to hear it, because he knows that I love him and I know that he loves me. Sometimes it’s important though to let the world know – “I love my penis, I love it so, I love to squeeze it, love to please and make it grow, but the church of my penis, needs a priestess, don’t you know? I love my foreskin, every vein, I roll it back, a sharpened wave fellates my brain, but the tide of my foreskin, needs a shoreline, to was away …”

            When I was done there was almost dead silence in the room. The only person that seemed to like my love song to my penis was Andrea. When I sat down, No MSG leaned over to me and told me that I was “very brave”. I didn’t quite get it. Why would it take courage to sing or speak about genitalia? Human beings are strange apes in being the only species that doesn’t overtly display their genitalia as a primary form of communication. I think there’s something missing in our race because of that. The audience’s reaction reminded me of a story that the brilliant poet and songwriter, Sahara Sprachlan, told me back in the early 21^st Century, about how she’d gone to Clay Tyson’s open stage at the Cameron and sang a sexually explicit song about how much she liked getting fucked by her boyfriend. The asshole son of Ian and Sylvia was so uptight that because of her song he actually banned Sahara from his event.

            I hadn’t sung my “Love Song” for many years, but had done so before on more than one occasion in front of poets and it had gone over well. People thought it was funny back then, but it seems that songwriters are expected to be ashamed of their genitalia. Maybe I’ll start an ironically named band called “Christian and the Shameful Penises”.

            Andrea Hatala followed me. From her first song – “Nothing keeping me here … The place where I’m going … it’s better than where I’ve been …”

            Her second song was called “You’re So Cold” – “ … I know that life is a circus but does it have to be so worthless …” When she was done, No MSG called out, “I enjoyed that!”

            The name “Chuck” was read from the list, but he wasn’t there, so Chris called for Mike Field.

            Mike told us that he hadn’t played guitar and sang onstage for ten years because he had been playing jazz trumpet. His first song was called “The Mechanic” – “I’ve been living on the moon for days … When I was young my parents sent me to the next planet over … Rents were too high so I moved up to the sky … I am a mechanic/electrician by trade, I fix all of your rockets …”

            Mike’s second song was called “It’s Alright By Me” – “ … Why live life the hard way when you can take it easy …”

            No MSG called out, “Make sure you register that with SOCAN! It’s gonna make some money!”

            Pepe was called to perform, but he said he was waiting for his friend, Joe, who went to put money in the meter. Chris told him that one doesn’t have to put money in the meter after 21:00.

            So Stavros came up for his set with his guitar and his looping pedal. He began picking in the style of old English ballads, and then began strumming heavily. He laid down a bass melody, and then he looped it and began to play on top of that. He began to sing, but not in English.

            For his second piece he did technically the same sort of thing with different music. He also sang, either in another language, or “nonsense” as he claimed he was singing the last time he was there. It sounded pretty organized though, and the verses rhymed, so perhaps it was Greek.

            Then Pepe Pareno was ready to play. He said he thought his twelve string was in tune, but things could change when his capo is applied.

            Pepe’s first song was called “Careless With You” – “Baby got a little white dress on and little white shoes … She got me so low down and feeling blue …” He accidentally hit the microphone as he was playing and said, “Well, Blues is traditionally violent!”

            His second song was entitled “Ella May” and he sang it in the fake southern US accent – “Ella May, are you lonesome? Are you sad and blue? All the way from Ponoka to Kalamazoo.

            Next was Joe, with an electric guitar and a piece of foot activated equipment that was much bigger than Stavros’s looping pedal. It took him a bit of time to set up, and then he sang a song called “Check Point Man” – “Used to travel without a passport in the US … See that fence on the border, rising as high as the eye can see … I can see that check point man with the sword and the pistol in his hand …”

            Joe’s second piece was an instrumental with the title, “The Ghosts of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg”. His apparatus also produced a looping effect. The music sounded something like klesmer.

            After Joe came No MSG, and as usual, he needed the lights turned off for his performance.

            A guy who was drenched with cologne came and sat down at the table next to mine.

            No MSG didn’t sing for his first piece. He started playing the piano in a very upbeat style and then he slowed it down at the end of the short piece.

            His second offering had more comical playing and he began to scat – “Hey a ba ba bo bo ba pa bayay a bap ba ba hey … I know that I might not sing like Pavarotti tonight … I’ll find my imperfect rhyme.”

            The final performer of the night was Quesi (pronounced Quayzee). He was the guy with the cologne. He started with a cover of the reggae song “Everything Nice” by Andrae Sutherland – “I’m feeling high, champagne fly … Thugs a proll out, girls a roll out … Hennessy pack up, refill ya cup …” Then Quesi stopped and couldn’t finish.

            He started something else, and I think it might have been an original – “ … I wish … great big space on the hill … get our fill … You’re in my eyes so nice …”

            Before I left I went to the washroom. On my way out, as I passed by the open door of the Southern Cross Bar, I heard Chris saying to the bartender, “I don’t want to want to censor anybody!” I got the impression they were discussing my love song to my penis.

            When I got home at about 12:30, before I unlocked my door, my down the hall neighbour’s visitor was just leaving. It was obvious that he was new to the place like all of Greg’s visitors seem to be, because he tried to open my apartment door to leave the building. Maybe he was flustered because he hadn’t expected to run into anyone on the way out, but he kept trying my locked door. I said, “Hey! Hey! You’ve got the wrong door!” He apologized, saying, “It’s my first time!” I assured him, “It happens to everybody the first time they’re here!”