East of Main - Amanda Bordrup Interview.

Jan 13

Picture taken by me after the Interview at The Heatley.

Hello friends! This is a bit of a longer one than what you may be used to on my website here, but I didn’t want to cut anything out from the Interview or from the evening I had at the Lido watching the Film. So sit back, relax, and enjoy!

East of Main: A Love letter.

Thanks for sitting down to talk with me today, Amanda. So, yeah, it's kind of a loose sort of format, but my plan was to kind of do it in more or less two parts. Talk about the documentary itself and then about yourself as a creative person, you know? What is it about Vancouver that made you decide to stay here?

Big questions today hey? Well I came because I was bored. Very bored. Unemployed, and lacking in every creative avenue and personal avenue in my life. I was just like, I need drastic, drastic change. And thought, let me move as far away as I can. Vancouver, great, I know the language, why not? I came with a suitcase, I didn't have a job, I didn't have any friends, I didn't know anyone yet. Didn't have a home. Anything. I had my suitcase and like a few thousand dollars, that was it.

What was your first day here like?
I arrived at like 3 AM. It was like a Wednesday at 3 AM.

Everything closed.
Everything closed. But I remember taking the bus from the airport into the city. And seeing the skyline and I was like: Damn, I didn't know what Vancouver would look like at all until I came. It was like whoa, okay. Found a hostel and I was like, hey, can I stay? And then three weeks later I moved into an apartment and lived in that apartment ever since.

Right on!
Right on, very lucky.

Yeah, I was gonna say, that's I will say that's not generally most people's first rental experience here.
And I haven't had a rent increase or anything. I'm very lucky! But I was originally gonna just be here for a year and then move on. But after a little while into being here, I met a guy, I fell in love.

As one does!
As one does! And he brought me here and brought me to Forastera vintage next door and introduced me to people here, and I think the first show we ever watched was the Spank Williams show. And I was like, what? The fuck?

Who is this wild man!
I just became really enamored with that scene, and I was like, this is fucking incredible, and thankfully my partner at the time was just as keen to go out all the time as I was. So we would just like: go out and see all these shows, meet all these people, talk to all these people. Him and I broke up eventually. But at that point, I was so nested in this that I was like, I really don't want to be without it. For the life of me. So I'm gonna stay and just commit my time to this, even though he and I broke up and he probably wants to also hang around a little bit. But I made it a mission not only to stay in Vancouver, but also just root myself here. So that's kind of a way to summarize it.

Very well said! Now “East of Main” is described by you on its official Instagram page as: This documentary is my love letter. It's a community that took me in and taught me what the feeling of kinship can do. It's my love letter to country music. To the East Van art scene, to immigrants and to myself. I feel like you touched on that already a little bit but… was there a specific moment where you thought to yourself: Alright, well, this is this is it. I found my community. Like in those goings out and everything, was it at that Spank Williams show, perhaps?
I don't think it was that early on. I think a lot of it has to do with Courtney next door because she actually hired me.

She's the owner of Forastera?
Yeah! She hired me, and her and I grew an immensely close friendship that has well surpassed my relationship with that man. Her and I are best friends now. And because of her, I was kind of brought in on a deeper level and got to know all these people because of her that have since become really good friends. But I remember very specifically being at a show with her. I don't remember what show, but I remember just being at a show with her, no one else. And just being like this feels right. It feels natural. It feels like this is where I'm supposed to be.

I've had many, many, many nights since then, where it has had the same feeling. But I remember her and I just smoking outside some venue, and it just feeling like home. I really don't remember what venue or what show. But it was with Courtney. Like she's a big part of my love for Vancouver and my love of the scene.

You know, I was gonna ask you about that as well, I believe she's one of the people that's featured in the documentary itself. Can you give her a little introduction to our readers?
She is the owner and curator of Forestera Vintage. She is an incredibly hard working woman. Not only does she curate the shop and pick items for the shop, she also does events, and like, she's just incredible. She works so hard. I showed her specifically for the documentary because I did not want it to be just a music documentary. I wanted to really highlight the people that worked for the scene, and for the community, that's not like on the stage. She does all the background work that no one recognizes, and no one really talks about. Courtney puts in so much time and so much love in the community to provide a space, for example, Where people can feel nurtured and fostered. Which I think is really important in community work. We love having the Heatley. We love having Forestera, we love having Green Auto. We love having spaces that nurture relationships, and that's what Courtney does really, really well. She nurtures relationships with people, she builds people, she builds relationships and like that's what she does best, honestly. That's how I will describe her.

I think that's a very good description!
We gotta support the homies!

But you know, it's so true. From my perspective, I was somebody kind of grew up when punk was the movement in the city. Then I left, moved to Germany for a number of years and came back, and it now seems like this is the new supportive community that has grown up around it. The community is greater than the sum of its parts, and there's a lot of people behind the scenes providing what they can to make it work. Who are some others that you've featured in the documentary that you would like to give a shout out too?
I mean, always big shout out to Vanessa Dee. Wonder Woman. She is a booker here, also bartends here, and has her own record label. She is on the board of the Wise Hall. She is a singer, she has her own band. She does so much. Like that woman never rests. And she has really not only mentored me, but just accepted every idea I've ever thrown at her and said, let's run with it, let's do it. With success! And like we've actually, like managed to create a bunch of stuff, and Vanessa was one of the first people to really take the documentary seriously. She was the one who offered the Hatley for the premiere. Like she's incredible. She just does so much for the community. Like we would not have anything, if not for Vanessa. Big, big shoutout to her.

Elliot C. Way. He's like an icon. He's been here for what, 25 years? He's done so much for not only the scene but the city, big shout out to him.

His performance of “Dead Flowers” at Keithmas, That was fantastic.
I love him so much, He does so much. He's done… like we could make a documentary just about him. That's how much he's done. He deserves some credit. Bob Sumner deserves so much credit. I mean, all of them really. There's so many people I wish I could feature to, but time, you know?

Well hey! Plenty more for the next documentary then, eh?
Oh my goodness hahaha

Speaking of which, that brings me to my next question. You are a photographer, poet, author of one book of poetry and a soon to be published book of essays, and now: Documentary filmmaker. I'm curious, what made you decide to express your love of this community through film in particular? Was it just you thought that might be the best way to catch lightning in a bottle?
Honestly? It's so funny cause again, me and Courteny were… who the fuck knows what show it was? We were somewhere. Courtney says Green Auto, I believe we were at the Wise Hall. And I remember telling her: Dude, no one I fucking know across the world. In the city. Knows about this community existing. It baffles me that no one recognizes this, because to us it's so vivid and so alive, and no one. No one really talks about it. Like it just feels like our little secret. And I was going on this whole philosophical talk, and Courtney said: Someone should make a reality TV show. And I went home that night thinking, that's not a bad idea. And I have a big tendency to have a little seed grow in my head, and then I become obsessed with it and cannot let it go.

That's what lit the fire.
Yeah, and then a couple of days later, I proudly announced to everyone at the Heatley and on Instagram: “hey, I'm doing this thing.” I had no equipment, no plan, nothing. I was just like, I'm doing it.

It's happening!
It's happening! I’m making a film of… some sort. I don't know why it became a film. It was probably because Courtney said “Reality TV show.” And I thought, I can easily get a camera. And like, I had this idea of filming my friends and it was like, ha ha, funny. But then it grew, like immensely. Like I'm sitting here with you now, talking about it.

That's, that's how it happens, right?
That's how it happens, yeah. Cause I mean, have you seen the camera it's shot on?

I was going to ask you about that.
I used a five-dollar thrift shopped camera, like a Fujifilm camcorder.

What was your creative process? What did your creative process look like in uh, making and filming the documentary? I know that it is a combination of interviews and live performances. But was there a kind of greater narrative that you had developed prior to filming everything? Or did that sort of come later?
It kind of came later. Initially when I started the project, I had no creative vision. I didn't know what I wanted it to look like. I was just kind of like rolling with it, and you know, putting feelers out to see what would stick. I drafted a list of people that, like this is like the people I would want to feature. And this is the list of “dream people” that are never going to do it. They all ended up doing it, but at that time, I was like, they're never going to do it. And just started reaching out to people. My first interview was Max: Spank Williams. It felt so right, and he was also just in on the project from the beginning, and that really drove me to take it seriously. Then I booked all the interviews, and I started to reach out to more people who were not related to music, and then I kind of had this draft in my mind. It took me a very long time to get it on paper or like my computer or anything. It was just always in my mind that I wanted it to look and feel homemade. I wanted it to look like, you know, those old school like 90s music documentaries from the grunge scene?

Yeah! I love those.
Yeah just like something that feels like camcorder style, it feels like it's shot from people within the scene. Like it's like that's what I wanted. Very specifically. “And I was like, how the fuck do I do that?” And it has a very specific kind of grainy, gritty film that I really fell in love with, and then I just went to a fuck ton of shows. Like five a week easily. And just filmed. Became better. Practiced different angles and learned lighting. Cause I don't know shit.

Learning by doing!
Learning By doing! I have no experience in film. I cannot state enough that I did not expect it to grow that much. But I just had to finish it, you know? So I went to fuck ton of shows for like six months straight. All the time. And just filmed and grew a habit of always just having it in my bag. So, whenever anything happened, I just filmed it. I filmed Courtney constantly. And that just had, that became a habit. And then a picture of the film began forming.

At that point, I'd also just interviewed a bunch of people, traction had begun to really spread, and I was doing a lot of marketing for it, and then it kind of just naturally grew into something. But it was because I was just occupying myself with it all the time, filming constantly, interviewing constantly, researching. I didn't begin editing until like a month before the premiere. Which everyone will tell you: do not do that.

Oh boy, that must have been something!
Yes, I worked 18-hour days for a month straight.

I feel like you captured, from what I've seen from what you posted on Instagram, like just a sense of authenticity, right? And I think that when people talk about how this is the hidden secret of Vancouver, I think that's one of the aspects that would appeal to people if they saw it, you know? In other kind of films and things like that, and I understand why, it's like a commercialized product sort of thing, you know. Meant to reach a wider audience and everything like that. But how important was the Authenticity of it to you?
It was my number one priority. I never gave the camera out to people unless it was my immediate circle. Because I wanted it to be just like, it has to be from my point of view. It has to be my vision. It has to be as authentic as possible. Many, many, many, many, many times, people didn't even know I was filming. I would just set it up, like next to me and just film whatever was going on around me. Because it was really important to me to showcase that this is kind of like… I explained it to my mom when she saw it, and she was like: so this is like how your life looks. Basically. And I was like, yeah, it kind of is! This is just how things are. There's nothing fabricated

No window dressing, this is as I lived it.
No dressing, this is as raw as it gets. Obviously, the interviews are little bit more curated, but all the footage is just from real time, and that was very, very important to me. Because otherwise it's not gonna be like an authentic, you know, portrait of this scene. Which really values authenticity and values people really loving stuff, and putting their all into stuff. Being themselves is really highlighted in the scene. And one of the reasons I've always felt so welcomed and kind of found my home here, is that there's no… You know when you walk into places, and it feels like everyone there is putting on a persona to please the crowd?

Yes, like a mask of some kind.
Yeah. In some sense, like: “oooh I enjoy this music!” Even though they don't. Or “I enjoy this hobby!” Even though they don't. But here that just doesn't exist. Like you're allowed to be whoever you want, which I find beautiful. So it was important that the documentary reflected that. And I feel like it did.

Do you think it's something specific about country music in general, that allows this kind of community… Well, not necessarily allows per se, but why do you think people have kind of rallied behind that particular genre of music? Is it just a bunch of people: friends, like-minded individuals supporting each other in the right place, right time? Or is there something more than that?
That's so funny, cause I asked similar questions to all the interviewees so I have formed an opinion based on theirs, and there's like, without offending anyone, there’s kind of like the new school and the old school people. And the old school people have definitely, you know, perfected that craft in terms of country music. They've loved it forever, even before it was cool. And to them, it's like their whole lives. It's one of the only things in their lives that makes sense, and that's really beautiful.

But then there's a new school of people like Spank and Janky and various other acts that have kind of approached country music from a wider sense. But what they have in common is the love of the progressive outlaw, anti-oppression angle. I think one of the reasons country is really big right now, and speaks to a lot of people, is that it's a genre of music that really fights against the system. At least if you look at outlaw country acts.

Good Ol’ Waylon!
Waylon! Johnny Cash, Merle, like all them, David Allen Coe. Cause that's the music of this community I would say more. That's where everyone has found a shared love. And they’re all: Anti-oppression, they're all anti negative things. And if there's anything we can agree on across nationalities, genders, races, anything: is that the world is fucking horrible right now. It's shit. Everyone's depressed, inflation is horrible, like it's just difficult to live right now, and it's much easier to identify with music that speaks to that. That makes you feel like that's okay to feel that. And it's the same with punk. Punk is rising up again because of that anti-authority narrative. And it's the same with country, and I think people are also just yearning for more.

Tired of the Status Quo and disappointment.
Yes, exactly! And they want real, genuine people's experiences and feelings towards things.
I think that's why it's coming back. And I think that's why a lot of people are really hopping on board with it.
But Country is like such a freaking wide umbrella, it really is. Like Janky is not the same as Elliot C. Way.
Or Bob Sumner. Like they're totally different, but they still have bonded over the same things. They still consider each other friends because of that . So to answer your question, I think that's what is happening right now with country music, both internationally and in Vancouver.

Maybe it’s returning a little bit closer to its roots as the people's music, as opposed to, you know, a commercialized product to sell tobacco. Or Cars, Trucks, Beer. All good things on their own!
I mean, we love trucks and beers. But we also love anti-racism and other progressive politics.

Another thing I wanted to talk about is Vancouver as the backdrop of the documentary itself. In fact, I know you've written about it extensively on your substack blog. In one post in particular: “The spirited world of gazing”, I was particularly taken by this passage. If you don't mind, I'll read it quickly.

Yeah!

“I know of many who cannot give more to the city than what they have already given. They have lost and reconciled with their losses again and again because of this city’s propensity to throw reminders of our financial struggles, burdensome romances, and fragile housing situations at us at any given point. Venues are lost, spaces are demolished, money is spent, relationships fall apart, houses become unlivable, rent is too high, and friends move away.
The collective grief of not being in a city that prioritizes diversity and wants to sustain all kinds of lives has been heard throughout Vancouver for decades. I know this from the ongoing friendships I built in this city. I know of the losses they’ve carried and the pressures felt from the top of the hierarchy that take their livelihoods and opportunities away. It is the general consensus that Vancouver struggles to be an inclusive city where dreams are achievable, and because of this, the abundant poetry I’ve found secretly scattered across the city is not only understandable, commendable, and appreciated but also foundational to my recently new perceptions of the long list of places I frequent and have found a sincere symbiosis with.”

I think that, honestly, as somebody whose “born and from here”, I don't think I've ever read somebody encapsulate in such a succinct kind form, the feelings that people have at large about this city. I want to know from your perspective, how do you navigate that collective grief? What keeps you here in spite of it all, and is it that community?
It really is that community. A lot of it. But I mean, I have a life outside the community, too. I have a job. And friends and things like that. I know I've written about this in my substack before and I've told so many people, but when you move to a place. Not even if you're an immigrant, just if you move somewhere, you have to learn everything from scratch about that place. Learn its history from way far back. We learn the indigenous stories of this land. I came here not knowing anyone, and I spent so much time just wandering around being like, “what is that?”, “what is that?” I feel like I know a lot of this city based on what I've just walked around and looked at.
All the poetry talked about in that piece is random things I just come across on a walk. Or like initials carved into a tree, or someone putting a little poem up at the coffee shop or something. And it's like, that need that I've seen in Vancouver to not only create but also share your art, is very apparent. And that makes me feel like I'm in a place where people understand what I wanna do, because this is my really controversial opinion: But Europe? we have it so good in Europe. Like so fucking good. We have it so good, we have nothing to complain about, yet we do it constantly. And it's like, our struggles that we claim to write about or make art about? They're not fucking real. Like, it's not a real struggle. People here? If you're not part of the top one percent, you struggle here.

Ooooooh yeah.
And that makes real art, it makes real connections, it makes real spaces. Because you need to gather people to make them feel safe, feel valued, feeling included. Make their art feel appreciated, and the more people that don't have outlets, the more they're gonna create. And that's what I find so beautiful about Vancouver in this scene, and other scenes. And artworks, and just like everyone I've met in the city, have struggled in some regard. Which has created beautiful, creative ideas and projects that I'm like “yes, I want to stay and see it.”

I want to be a part of this.
I want to contribute to this. Exactly. And I feel like a lot of people share that, because there's not a lot to stay for, to be honest. It's not inclusive housing, it's not like there are jobs, like we all in some ways hate living here. Everyone fucking hates living here, but we stay for the communities and for the art and for the relationships we build. That’s the only thing that keeps us here.

I almost feel like we're sort of developing like a “New York in the 80s” sort of personality about ourselves. Where we're like, we all fucking “hate” the city, but we love it! It’s out of love! Because we know what it can be, right? We see the beauty in it when people come together, and so it's like, you know, that hatred and that those complaints that we have, are because we're like “come on! If only rich people would just… if only we can figure this out!”
And for hope too. We stay for the hope that things change.

Yes. Hope dies last.
Hope dies last. Literally.

Okay, What do you hope that audiences take away with them when they see your documentary?
I hope they take away… That there is real talent in the city. I hope they see how fucking hard people work for their dreams. And I hope that they take away what the community can really do. That's like my big hope. I don't care what they think of the editing, what they think of the cinematography, what they think of all that. I want them to take away what the community is capable of doing. Because the documentary focused so much on community and how things would not have been able to happen, if not for other people. and not for the help of the community. And that's really important because I think a lot of people lack community.
I think if more people find community, in whatever shape it is, really great things will happen, I mean, it happened to me. This is, as I said, like you said, it's my love letter. Like, I want to portray what everyone has made me feel. And hope that it relates to someone that then can seek out and find their community.

Well, I'd like to get your perspective on this. I like to ask a lot of people who come here to Vancouver to stay.
I'm someone myself who has “lived” the immigrant experience. I moved to Germany. So, I understand what that's like to have to find yourself again. Especially when it's like, oh, this isn't my first language, this is a completely different culture. But, you know what? There's a “German Richard” that exists, you know? How does Vancouver kind of compare to the other places that you have lived? As we talked about, you know, people are famously lonely here. They exist in their cliques or with their work contacts, and you have relationships that are sort of I don't know, they're surface level, right?
Yeah.

What's your advice to people that are looking for this sense of community that you found here?
It's it's difficult being an immigrant, and it's difficult being someone who moves here, even if you move from fucking Winnipeg! It's still difficult. And even more difficult if you don't really know the language, like, I totally get it, and I've been so fortunate. I've never had to struggle to find friends. I've had friends from my first week here. But I think it has to do a lot with willingness. Because you can't expect Vancouverites to want to be your friend, if you don't show them first if you wanna be a friend.

You're right.
I say we as if I'm one.

You are!
I kind of am. I'm not born and bred, But I am a Vancouverite. But Vancouverites are not just friendly. We have enough in each other. We don't need something new. So if you're gonna be that new thing? Like one of the first things I did when I moved here was just going on Instagram, and I wrote people in Vancouver poetry because I love poetry. And I want to be around people who enjoy poetry. The first thing I found was Vancouver poetry house and I was like, great, I'll go there. And I went and I yapped up everyone and I was like: blah, blah, blah, blah.

And you have to be okay with the rejection that comes with it.

You gotta be vulnerable.
You gotta be vulnerable. Be okay with the rejection. Keep trying. Keep using alternative methods. Like I went on dating sites to find people because I was like “hey, hang out with me!” And that provided me with a lot of friendships that then built, you know? Because you know someone, and then they will introduce you to someone. Then they will introduce you to someone. It's like a chain reaction, and you gotta be the first chain in that reaction of chains, you know? That's my biggest advice. Just go. talk to everyone. Talk to the people on the street. Like, who cares? Just get it going. You can't be shy. And I know that's so rich if you're an introvert, I'm not. I'm an extrovert. But if you are an introvert? Much more difficult, but you just cannot sit and be like “Vancouverites are so flaky and it's so difficult making friends!” Yes, it is. But it's worth a fight. That’s my advice.

Tell me about the Vancouver poetry collective. You started it, correct?
Yes, I did. I started it the same month I started the documentary. I was very productive in May.
I used to be involved in the Vancouver poetry house. Which I believe no longer exists. I'm not sure. Where I've met a ton of poets that are still some of my best friends to this day.
I've been a poet for 10 years. I've published a few times in Denmark, in Danish. And I have always loved it so much, and I need to have it actively in my life. I need to have people who read it, and can talk to me about it. I need to have space to share it. I just need that wherever I am. And was involved in that scene that sort of dismantled, and I was like: well, fucking hell, I'll just fucking make my own then!

DIY!
DIY always! And was like, where should I do it? And I discussed it briefly with Courtney and Forastera, and I was like, I wanna do this. And she was like: You can do it here. We had our first night in May, which was very poorly attended, but then we just kept going, kept going, kept going, and the six month anniversary was actually sold out. So it keeps growing, but that's a very important thing in my life. Not a lot of people know about it, but it's something I cherish deeply, because I love poetry so much. People who write in any regard. I wish more songwriters would come, or people will write novels or essays, or whatever. It's not just poetry. Like, I'm not trying to scare away people. You can come to share whatever you want!

Poetry is kind of like the selling point because people like going. But you can basically go up there and tell a joke if you want. Like, I don't care. Just come, talk, engage, share something. That's why I made it.

I feel like consistency is key, you know? And maybe that's some other advice that we might be able to impart to people. Just keep showing up, keep being vulnerable, keep putting yourself out there. You never know what can happen, but you won't find out you don't unless you do it.
Exactly. Like you really don't. If you can just stop doing it, you can always give up. And I don't wanna sound like someone who's just throwing out motivational quotes, I mean it. but I don't wanna sound like that. I don’t wanna be pious. I just came here, found some friends, that's it.

You're a human being, having a human human experience, expressing yourself.
Literally, yeah. For the record haha

Are there themes or ideas that seem to resonate most with the members of your collective? I have to imagine that when people come together to share things like that, certain subjects must come up, right? Love, loss.
With Vancouver poetry collective, it's actually interesting. Because the main crew, I would say, the people that show up every time. It's so different from what it's like with my own poetry. I write almost exclusively about nature, love, paganism, trauma, stuff like that. And then we have someone like Eric, who is the lead man of Daisy Garland. Great local band, you should go see them.

He writes almost these like short prose stories, where it's like “I caught a fish the other day…” Even though we know, he did not catch a fish the other day. But it's like the perspective of someone else, which is like storytelling, which is very interesting. And then people will come in and have like little poems they've written about their Grandma. I like that it's not specified.
It's unexpected what you'll find, which I really like. At every other Vancouver poetry event, there's always gonna be one kind of…. Like poets and love having a prompt. They looooooove having a prompt. Every writer loves having a prompt, and I'm sick of going to evenings where it's like tonight's theme is: I don't fucking know.

Capitalism!
Or oppression. It's something, and I'm like, no. I'm here to hear our different stuff. And it's really important to me to keep the collective. It's just like, we are here to share. Who cares what it is? There's no prompt, there's no competition, there's no fee, there's no nothing. It's just like come here and just fucking talk. Which is really exciting.

You also have a Shop Forastera Instagram. What is the “Big Bloke” look, and how would you define it?
Hahaha I don't know. The big bloke look is um…It's very cocky. I don't know. Honestly, that whole thing was a joke again between me and Courtney. But she wanted me to do styling. Just play around with it. And I was like, what do I style? And I just picked pieces that looked really silly together. And then it kind of worked, which I think is the big bloke thing. But big bloke is also like one of my trademark names. My friends called me Big Bloke. Because I used to live in Australia. And when I first got here, it was very difficult for me not to say bloke all the time. Then it just became a thing.

I also saw on your Instagram, you're publishing a book of essays that will be released spring 2025.
20 men, 20 dates, 20 essays. Why essay’s?
Because back in the spring and summer of 2024 when I was newly out of a relationship.
I went on a fuck ton of dates in order to move on. I went on a lot of weird dates and would always tell Courtney, like, this weird guy… and this weird thing happened. And she was like, go write a book. And I said, hm good idea!

Well, you have dated abroad, what is your impression of the dating scene her? How do we stack up?
Honestly, that's my personal experience. I know a ton of people who have had shitty fucking experiences here. I've had a fuck ton of fun dating in Vancouver. I think Vancouver dating is so fun. It's like weird and unexpected and fucking random, and men are really weird here in in like a very endearing manner. Australian men they suck, but I was also engaged in Australia to be married, So I lived there for so long and like, I only dated one man.

So I don't really know. But dating in Copenhagen? horrible, worst thing ever. Like it's a coldness. It's like that standoffishness. It's like: “no, don't don't expect me to have feelings for you because you are a human being. I don't have feelings. I go to my job and I go home.” And people in Vancouver? they're down for fucking whatever. Which I really appreciate. Like it's so much fun. And Courtney was like, you should write a book. Honestly, and she probably meant it as a joke, but she should know by now, don't tell me stuff, because I would just make it a thing. And now I'm publishing a book. Today I just released the details of my 30th birthday. Chase Coulee, Daisy Garland and Lava. Great bill!

I was gonna say, I saw you are putting that on. Is that your first foray into promotion?
It's my first big thing, I would say. I've done stuff with Forastera. I've done stuff here (at the Heatley), I’ve done it at the Lido. But this is my first, really big thing. Where I'm like in charge of everything, but I want to move in that direction. So it's great practice. I've done it in the past. But I haven't done it in like 10 years, so it's weird to get back to, but I think it is my calling. I did it my entire teens, and now I'll be in my 30s doing it again.

One of the reasons why I wanted to interview you is that my impression from, looking into and reading your work, is that you're somebody that cares passionately about contributing to that scene, but you're also somebody who cares about the behind the scenes, right? So, thank you for taking the time to sit down with me.
Oh my god, of course! And honestly? I respect so much when people do what you do. Because we need to recognize the people who are like, growing themselves.

I couldn’t agree more! And thank you.

Left to right: 1. Just before the start of the show. 2. Joe Abbot and his band serenading the crowd. 3. The crowd dancing.
Photography by yours truly.

Honky Tonk Heroes at The Lido:

The next day, I went to the screening of “East of Main” at The Lido. It was my first time there, but I could see immediately why it was chosen as the venue. An intimate stage with charming decor. The lights were dimmed for the premiere, and the hanging canvas of greenery provided a cozy but artistic atmosphere. I grabbed myself a beer and talked with Dave McCormick and Victoria Black about their band Dead Flowers and their upcoming show this Sunday at The Pearl. Vanessa was also in attendance and kindly gave me some stickers for the “Cryin’ Time Steel guitar festival” that she and others in the community are putting together February 6th-9th. Be sure to check out the details on their official Instagram. You are not going to wanna miss this one folks. I’ll see you there!

As I took my seat at the front where me and Dave chatted a bit more. As fate would have it, we met at that Rich Hope show last year at Green Auto that became my first review. Dave plays steel guitar himself and is an accomplished trial lawyer by trade. I had to ask him how he became a part of this community, and I suppose I shouldn’t have been too surprised by the answer. About a year ago, he went to one of Elliot C Way’s “Hot Country Nights” shows and was just blown away. And then he went to another show, and another, and things just went from there.

Then it was showtime. The documentary was fantastic, and I recommend you see it yourself at Amanda’s next screening this month at The Slice Gallery on January 17th. The film takes place in 2 parts, and without giving anything away, I was enthralled in the first part by the personal stories from Étienne Tremblay, Ben Arsenault and others about how they have navigated the fine line between making their art, making a community, and making a living.

The second half continues with more stories from artists like Kalvin Olafson (AKA Chase Coulee), Spank Williams, Daisy Garland and many more. It touches on the important role that local businesses play in supporting a scene that is accepting and inclusive. The Heatley, The Wise Hall, The Lido in particular. Local artists like Madeline Perry talk about how much the support of the community means to her after the lasting effects on the economy from covid had affected the markets where she would sell her work. Those are just a few brief highlights.

But my favorite moment of the Documentary was something I wanted to single out here. John Evans talked about his experiences and paid tribute to his friend: Colin Scott Ruloff. Colin released an album in 2019 called “Doxology” before he passed away, and I really recommend you give it a listen. Ever since I did while heading home from the review, it’s become my favorite album to listen to. Every single track is incredible. From the upbeat and humorous “Going to the Garden” about finding some peace of mind, to “Busy Body Blues”, a song about love and life’s struggle that I personally identified with immediately. To “Blanket of White”, a touching slow ballad about conflict in a relationship.

I thought it was important to mention because one of the documentaries overarching themes as Amanda alluded to in our interview, is that it’s a tough fucking world out there right now, to put it lightly. Everyone is doing their best to survive and make their art not just to express themselves, but to process this harsh modern reality we find ourselves in. Sadly, sometimes tragedy happens. This scene resonated with me because not too long ago, one of the nicest and most talented musicians I knew, Cameron Latimer passed away. And I’m sure there are many other Colins and Camerons that have been lost over the years. Their art and impact on the community won’t be forgotten.

After the documentary, Joe Abbott took the stage and him and his band were just incredible. Backed up by aforementioned John Evans on pedal steel, Noah walker on guitar, Alex Hallbom on bass and Paul Townsend on drums. They absolutely killed it. This is another example of the magic of what’s happening right now. On any given night, you can go to a country music show and hear a band you have never heard before, just blow you away.
Joe’s music lends itself to making people sway and dance to end the night. Go listen to “Six more weeks of winter” and you will see what I mean. Be sure to catch him January 30th at Forastera.

Sometimes, one of life’s great pleasures is to bear witness to great art. It has been my pleasure the last few months doing that. But don’t take my word for it. Come on down and see for yourself with me. The Instagram pages of The Heatley, The Lido, The Wise Hall and everyone else mentioned here are always posting about the great things they have going on. The country western wear is optional, but if you are anything like me, I bet it won’t be long before you take a shine to it as well. Thanks for reading, folks.