Then, in late March, I set out on a four-night run: Nakusp, Fernie, Cranbrook and Trail.
Now, see, way back in the '70s I used to play around Gastown, in Vancouver, and the odd coffeehouse in other towns, and people used to tell me I should be on the "circuit". What circuit? Well, the coffeehouse circuit. Well, how do I get on this circuit? Nobody could tell me. Nobody could even tell me who to talk to, how to find out. This "circuit" was, well seemed at least, fairly well hidden. I finally gave it up and for me the circuit became a myth.
So, on March 29th, 1995, on my way up to Nakusp and the first night of a four-night cafe run, I happened to look down at the piece of paper in my hand where I had written the names of the cafes I was going to play, and it hit me, like a solid blow: So THIS is that mythical coffeehouse circuit I used to hear about but couldn't find. I had to create the damn thing myself. I realized that I had in my hand the thing many musicians were looking for: a ground-level curcuit of venues where a person could play, pass the hat, sell tapes, and seek out their audience. If I kept on playing cafes and kept a list of them all, then other musicians like me, who had no agents, would be able to book themselves at least some kind of tour. And there would be music in the cafes. A real, old-fashioned, honest-to-god folk music scene.
Over the next couple of years I played all over the south of BC, right from Elkford in the Rockies to Squamish at the coast, from Revelstoke and Golden in the north right down to Troy, Montana. I kept up my list, drew maps and photocopied them, handed them out to musicians wherever I went. I was interviewed in newspapers and on radio stations all over the south of BC, and I got mail and phone calls from musicians requesting copies of the list. I sent it to them all. In the end, my map was even handed out to all the musicians at the Cowichan Folk Festival.
In the Fall of 1996 I started trying to take the singer/songwriter thing into pubs, thinking the odd paid gig along the cafe trail would be a welcome thing for musicians, and thinking it'd be really cool if we could start a whole new kind of scene in pubs around the province. But, regardless of what the pub owners said or how sincere they might have been, a pub is just a bar in the end. Drunks are drunks. They want to hear the big rock'n'roll band sound. I would go into these places with just my guitar and amp, and stand up there all night playing my original stuff, blowing on my harp, and I could rock for sure, and nobody slashed my tires and I never got stabbed or shot, and I even made a few fans and friends, but in the end I couldn't keep it up.
I quit the road in March of 1997 in favour of staying home to write and record. Since then the circuit has pretty much died. At its height there were probably a dozen or so musicians out working the circuit. There was even a website and we were getting email from all over North America and even England, from cafe owners asking us to put their cafes on the circuit. I guess it was up to me to keep the thing alive, but I really thought at the time that it had taken on a life of its own.
Now, in 2003, I'm starting to think about going back out. I miss the road. I miss the people. And I know the circuit is still there. It's just highways and cafes. That's the body of the thing. All it needs to come back to life is a pulse. The life blood of the circuit is the musician.
Anyway, these pages are all about those couple of years on the cafe trail. Pictures and stories.
