Inspire in me the desire in me to never go home
I’ve been on the road for the last month, backpacking through central and eastern Europe. Internet access has been spotty and despite my best efforts, I missed my mom’s birthday. I feel like poop. And I’m still employment free, so I don’t know if going home for Christmas is going to happen, but being away from Canada for so long has me longing for my prairie home. Saskatchewan is hard to explain to people here, so when they ask where I’m from, I just say Canada and tell them I live near Toronto, which is true. But there’s a little part of me that thinks “liar!” every time I say that.
When I was young, it was drilled into me that where you are from is everything. My grandpa loved paging through local history books that detailed the families in the area and what they did and how many kids they had, how many acres they farmed, etc. He had an encyclopedic knowledge of those things. Whenever I would tell him about a new friend I made whose parents farmed, he’d look them up in one of his books and then, the next time we spoke, he’d go “Say, that Marcotte girl you roomed with, the one who reads the news on the CBC, is she from Southie? I knew her grandpa.” Of course he did.
Travelling has made me a little resentful of the fact that in a sea of foreigners, I feel the most foreign. I am not from Toronto or Vancouver or Montreal, one of the three Canadian cities foreigners seem to recognize immediately. I’m from the huge, expansive middle part, the one with straight sides that everyone says is flat and boring. Even back in Canada, I get the sense that people brush my home province off as if it didn’t matter or was the worst place to be from, so why advertise that fact? Here, at least it is understandable that nobody has heard of my home town. In Canada, I get a little indignant, because Tommy Douglas, the greatest Canadian, introduced the country to universal health care there.
I have to imagine that Library Voices co-lead singer Carl Johnson would understand. He used to be with National Frost, a band that got its start in Estevan, which is the Ying to Weyburn’s Yang.
Regina, which is close by, also has a rep as a place you don’t want to advertise being from. I cannot tell you how many bands I have seen come through the city only to make that stupid, aging joke about the name (city that rhymes with fun/I won’t make fun of your city’s name because your mayor asked me not to, but I don’t want to sound like a pussy/your city sounds like vagina!), perform a mediocre set and leave. Bah, to them! We will make our own bands! And they will rival any of those that have come before! THEN you’ll see!
I’m not sure if Library Voices exactly rival, say, the New Pornographers, but they’re on their way to that! They are a big, sprawling collective (ten members) and they certainly sing kicky, energetic songs with clever lyrics.
And I love them for it. In particular, Things We Stole From Vonnegut’s Grave is special and interesting and sweetly indifferent, just like Vonnegut himself. I love the chanted chorus: “And so it goes…/ And so it goes…/ Until you’re unstuck in time/ Fate’s worse than death/ Don’t hold your breath/ There’s an asterisk before your name” Plus, they quote my favourite Vonnegut saying: We are who we pretend to be, so we must be careful who we pretend to be.
The song is on their debut EP, Hunting Ghosts & Other Collected Shorts and if it seems like they should hurry up and release a new, full-length album, don’t worry. It’s on its way! I saw them play at Hillside Festival this summer, where they had one of THE best sets of the weekend. Everyone loved them and with good reason. Soaring harmonies, complex songs with a variety of unexpected instruments and chords that sound maddeningly familiar. They’re like faces you can’t quite place. You may think you’ve heard them before, but every listen reveals new surprises and twists. They’re also purveyors of my favourite pop-song accoutrement: hand claps.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but they are a band on the way to big, huge, exciting things. Their songs are hooky, danceable and sing-along-able, filled with riffs on all kinds of ‘tures, including pop culture, literature and adventure. And because they are from Saskatchewan, you can bet they have a mom or a grandpa or an uncle or some other relative who won’t let them get big heads about their future success. That’s just the way it is back home.
Speaking of back home…
I love the crush and the rush of the big cities I have visited. I love the insular beauty of the secluded villages I have visited. I keep threatening to move to Europe, because what have I got to lose? But it doesn’t matter how far from Saskatchewan I wander or where I end up living. I will always be from the same place and that place will always be home. Thanks for reminding me of that, Library Voices:
You should know by now
Lost girls don’t find
Themselves over seas
You can never go back to young & free
Just tell story through laptop screens
I can tell you that these lyrics from Love In the Age of Absurdity are true. Because I am writing this on a laptop in a hotel room in Istanbul and I am almost ready to go home with no big revelations about myself other than that I will never take coin-op laundry for granted again.
Check out Library Voices when they come to a city near you, Ontario:
Oct. 27th - Hamilton - The Casbah
Oct. 28th - Guelph - The E-Bar
Oct. 29th - Toronto - The El Mocambo
Oct. 30th - Ottawa - Live Lounge
Oct. 31st - Barrie - The Mansion
You can get their album in any fine record store and on zunior and itunes.
Library Voices - Things We Stole From Vonnegut's Grave: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download Library Voices - Love In The Age Of Absurdity: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download
