Times Changed High and Lonesome, Winnipeg MB

I'm up pretty early this morning. My throat hurts. "Test," I whisper to myself. Crap! I need a hot drink badly. Mort is busy with his political activities, and anxious to get into town to take care of business. After a quick cup of coffee I'm on the road, too. It's not long until I cross the border into Manitoba. I don't know why Kenora and Thunder Bay shouldn't be part of Manitoba instead of Ontario, but that's the way it is. The roads on the Ontario side are crappy, have a lower speed limit, and crawl with cruisers looking for customers. I drive like a funeral director until I hit the line, then: hammer down for Winnipeg. It's a straight shot.

With the Lincoln wound down it doesn't take long to reach the cool streets of Winnipeg.

I spend a couple of hours in an internet cafe and then head over to Times to meet Dave. You did know that Big Dave McLean and I are playing tonight? Nobody else seems to know, and we're not on the poster when I get to the club. It's to be an "early show," with the house turning over prior to the "night show." I'm not sure what that means, but I've been around long enough to wonder. The club is locked up tight, so I lock the Lincoln up tight and try to sleep for a while. It's a busy strip next to the alley. Drunks and solvent sniffers. Last call hookers. All down on the heel, half blind, pounding and swearing their way past. I'm glad for the deep tint on the Lincoln, and manage to drift off for a short nap.

The cell phone wakes me up. It's Big Dave. "Where are you?" he says. I tell him I'm outside the club, and that he's parked right behind me! This is old home week! Soon we're moved in, set up, ready to eat Mexican food and gab. We are joined by Nanaimo bluesman David Gogo, in town to play a show at another venue. Nice shoes, dude! David hangs around to catch the beginning of our set, and then he's off to his own gig. Sorry, David, no pics. It was your shoes. Hell, I just forgot because the jokes were too funny.

Dave and I are, of course, classic. We play some new, some old, and generally manage to pull off a show! Thankfully I don't have to sing the whole night tonight. My voice is just ragged. Pretty much torn to bits in last evenings pub event. I'm usually pretty good at avoiding this— but tonight I am suffering. My vocal chords seem loose, flapping in my throat... Not good, but at least I have a day or so to recover before my next gig. I'm also getting a cold— and that doesn't help at all. I've only had a couple of colds in the last few years, so I'm a little worried about it. Anything that slips past all that vitamin C and D can't be friendly...

Times Changed owner John Scoles gives us great hospitality, wonderful sound, recognition, and a pay packet that was larger than it had to be. Thanks, John. It's a wild, but classy joint— suits you perfectly. Times Changed is THE place to be for a night out in Winnipeg. There's nothin' that ain't cool about this place.

Dave and I outside with our heads on fire. We've talked up next year's Tour: "Bad Boy Blues," and we're excited about it. There is going to be a whole lot of preparation going into this one, and a whole lot of neat stuff around the outside of it. Any way we slice or dice it— big fun. I'm working on it right now. It will probably be a slightly smaller Tour in terms of the number of shows. I'm going to aim for about 50 good dates, and I'm accepting reservations, expressions of interest, bookings, RIGHT NOW!! "Bad Boy Blues." Doc and Dave on a cross country roll. Be there or be square.

Back inside the Times Changed, it's my old pal Washboard Hank setting up for the late show— and he's got another old pal, Frank Barth, playing with him. Now that's neat! We all go back more years than we care to remember— or care to admit here on the Blog. It's a real gift to have survived this long, to be healthy, busy and still at it after all this time. I'm sincerely delighted when I run into old friends this way. Keep at it. Travel safe. Until we meet again, somewhere out on this big Blues Highway.

Dave is for home, but I'm on my way across the block to the Windsor Hotel. There's a R&B singer out of LA there, Lou Pride. We chat for a few minutes on the break. Tim Butler is playing guitar in the band. He's a very good local player whose work I enjoy. I catch a few tunes, watch some friends play pool. The table looks like at least one person may have died on it. Not a pretty death. The floor has obviously died a thousand deaths. We drink wine. Talk, talk, talk. Actually, I can hardly talk at all, and probably shouldn't. Soon it's late. The Windsor Hotel. A classic blues room, but it won't be here forever. I breathe in a last lungful of neon light, lumpy tables and dancing shoes. See ya, Lou. I gotta go. I gotta go sleep. Travel well. Stay safe out there. Good night.