The Grist Mill

Last night, Nathan, Tim Stanley and I headed down to Waterloo for a concert. The folks playing I had not heard of since a few weeks beforehand but listened to a few tracks leading up to the show. We parked several blocks away from the mill, which in reality is a wooden barn, that has fluorescent lighting.

And we walked through the cold night air to the venue, when we arrived there was a number scrawled on our wrists to verify us as paying guests. We stood in the middle off the barn while in the corner different bands and artists did there sound checks, right in front of us. Slowly more and more people trickled into the barn. It was no tlong before noticing we were the only people who were wearing ski jackets, everyone else had on leather jackets or Fleece coats, mostly of a darker gradient. There the three of us are, standing in a circle in the middle wearing bright ski jackets, wearing glasses that were not after the Buddy Holly tradition surrounded by the purists of the music scene. Or so one may be impressed.

Into the act of the first artist, a local guy named Adam CZ, who slammed an acoustic and bellowed out lyrics of youthful confusion and unsure desires, the barn really started to warm up so we decided to ditch the sore thumbness of our outfits and partially assimilate into the crowd by having now exposed the ever popular plaid, baggy t-shirts and solid colours of our Shirts. Finally not to be held apart in the seemingly shrinking barn.

Whipping into the barn as Adam finished was the trio Lemuria who whipped through several songs, while still out of breath because having just arrived. , Lemuria was followed by the Cavaliers, who played huge instrumentals and intimate lyrics. The one notable aspect of this performance I believe was the Bass player who was very jumped up on something the way he smiled and dance around. Overall this band was a good surprise in having very good music.

Imagine heading to the deep south, going to he back woods, digging a hole to reach strata of past generations, compiling all the history of deep southness, sweat &blood, and sunburnt necks, than adding a spark of life to this pile of dust, the result would be Tim Berry .The guy killing his guitar and voice, wailing about life experiences he has had and advising the youth at the show was something to remember. Musically I think he killed the show, build, build, than downward spiral and a thirty something hick swearing by Whisky and caloussed hands played three chord epics of southern life and personal conviction.

Lastly Chuck Ragan accompanied by a talented Floridian on Violin, played out the house.

"We are the ones who carry the guns

to faraway lands with the blackened sun.."

Both lyrically and musically Chuck showed Waterloo in a little barn what music is, denouncing the huge industry and playing from his heart. There was full sound with his acoustic riffs, harmonica solos and Violin ringing. Over all a good show, regardless of the south pushing north.

Also, I reached into my pocket and my wallet was covered in gum from a piece of gum I had put there earlier in the day wrapped in tissue. You can't win them all.