A Pilgrimage of Fire - Rammstein Live at US Bank Stadium

I’ve been a fan of the German metal-adjacent band Rammstein since the Rare Hipster introduced me to them in the late 90s (via a mixtape he gifted us on a road trip to Gettysburg as I recall).

It is probable you have never heard of this group - their days of being introduced to new fans through their stylish and powerful videos on stations like MuchMusic or MTV have long passed, and you don’t get a lot of the genre they call “nieu Deutsche harte” on commercial radio.

But those of us who like it, like it a lot, as it turns out, and that includes both of my lovely daughters, who have been listening to this raw, crunchy yet immensely danceable music since before they could walk.

Rammstein’s translated lyrics and titles run the gamut from the banal (“Du Riecht So Gut” (You Smell So Good)) through the bizarre (“Buckstabu”,an invented word) to the horrifying (“Mein Teil” (My Tool) based on a true story of cannibalism), but when younger listeners asked about the words I either feigned ignorance, was genuinely and willfully ignorant, or simply declined to translate the more disturbing lyrics.

I fully believe the quality of their videography remains unequalled, and three years after its release, I also feel that “Deutschland”, directed by Specter Berlin, is simply the best music video ever made (your mileage may vary, of course).

But much of Rammstein’s awe-inducing and terrifying reputation comes from the scope and spectacle of their live performances. They borrow heavily enough from the shock-rock ouvré that, as much as it pained me, I refused to take either of the girls when they made their sole appearance in Edmonton to date back in 2011.

In fact, Glory recently confessed that she was not just miffed or a little put out by her exclusion but was actually angry at me for some time afterwards. Thankfully she forgave me after seeing concert footage that included the finale of a giant phallic cannon shooting foam into the audience. (“It’s fine Dad - it was the right call.”) 

If you are at all curious, there are two concerts currently viewable on Amazon Prime, at least in Canada, Rammstein: Paris and Rammstein in Amerika  - Live from MSG, but be warned:  the Paris concert contains the graphic staging of "Buch Dich" that got the lead singer and keyboardist arrested on obscenity charges on the 1998 "Family Values" tour!

Last year, when Rammstein announced the resumption of the tour they’d postponed in 2020 due to Covid, I knew it presented a singular opportunity. For the very first time, they would be taking their renowned stadium-sized stage show to nine lucky cities across North America.

There were no shows nearby and only two scheduled before their school year started, so we picked Minneapolis, intending to drive there and camp along the way. But the scheduling was too tight after all so we ended up buying plane tickets in April and using Air Miles for a hotel stay at the IHG MSP by the airport (and a Hilton in Toronto for the 11-hour layover two days before the concert).

I have no fear of flying but I am an extremely apprehensive traveller. I know I can be forgetful and I am a worry-wart by nature, so I keep lists, documents, shortcuts and multiple copies of confirmation emails. I downloaded the ArriveCan app and uploaded both our passports and our vaccination records to Air Canada when I checked us in.

We endured a brutal night’s sleep in Toronto thanks to the noisiest AC unit I have encountered to date and clearing customs and security the following day took a staggering two hours. But our Minneapolis hotel gave us easy access to the city's convenient Blue Line trains, and Saturday night we found ourselves in surprisingly good lower bowl seats of the modern and monolithic US Bank Stadium, eagerly anticipating what might literally be a once-in-a-lifetime show.

We grabbed the obligatory commemorative shirts and I had a hard time choosing between the standard design with the tour dates on the back and the first venue-specific shirt I've ever seen, which replaced the generic building with US Bank Stadium. (In the end I got the tour shirt because two sides are better than one).

Even without lights or musicians, the stage was an architectural and engineering marvel; a castle or fortress-like structure requiring an immense 1350 tons of equipment, and combining art deco and brutalist elements. There were also two separate floor areas to incorporate a "Feuer Zone" in close proximity to the stage.

The opening act was a surprise as well; two lovely French ladies in sequinned dresses (Duo Abelard) bashed out powerful and moving acoustic piano covers of Rammstein songs.

But a little after 8:00, smoke began to fill the stage, and the band’s cross-shaped logo (the “Rammkreuze”) begin crawling up the center stage tower, accompanied by Handel's fanfare "Music for the Royal Fireworks" (so apropos!). Once it reached the peak, there was a massive set of explosions and sparks, and the band emerged to play “Armee Du Tristen,” the lead track to their most recent album, Zeit (“Time”).

It took the 30,000+ fans in attendance a little while to really get into things. The music was powerful as always - simple, brutal guitar melodies masterfully executed and backed up by dazzling synth counterpoints, and dramatically staged lighting effects.

Then some of the older songs came out and enormous red banners with the Rammkreuze on them unfurled around the stage. A sizable chunk of the crowd obligingly sang probably the only German words they know into the outstretched mic held by intimidating lead singer Till Lindemann, which you could tell pleased him to no end.

And later in the show, during "Sonne," it felt like everything caught fire.

Enormous flame jets erupted onstage in time with the chorus “hier kommt die Sonne” (here comes the Sun), accompanied by massive - and I mean immense - pillars of flame rising from three enormous towers situated on the stadium floor. And in a covered stadium no less!

As the saying goes, "Other bands play; Rammstein burns."

The heat was like what you would feel opening the door of an oven preheated to 450, and this occurred repeatedly in each chorus, to the delighted screams of everyone in attendance, including the three of us.

We stood on our feet for most of the show, including two encores, the girls dancing, singing along and banging their heads in time to the percussive guitars.

We marvelled at the climax of their best-known song, “Du Hast” as Till used a multi-barreled launcher to fire flares into the upper reaches of the stage, which in turn launched fireworks at the stage towers, which then fired a veritable salvo of pyrotechnics back at the stage which finally exploded and showered sparks everywhere. 

(skip to 3:30 to see the fireworks!)

(Wider view of the launch from about 3:42)

Honestly, it felt kind of like being in proximity to an airstrike or something from the Old Testament, and a gentleman on the train back to the hotel said he loved the show but joked it may have given him some degree of PTSD...

We gasped as an enormous pram with a horrific animatronic doll in it was set ablaze during “Puppe.”

We marvelled during "Mein Teil" as keyboardist “Flake” Lorenz took cover in an immense cooking pot, as Till, in a blood-covered leather apron and filthy chef’s hat, brought out larger and larger flamethrowers to threaten his bandmate with, finishing up with a wheeled fire cannon that would not have looked out of place in a game of Warhammer 40,000.

But we laughed then too,and again as Till took a break and most of the band came out to dance (poorly!) to guitarist Richard Kruspe's club-style remix of “Deutschland” in light-up suits that made them look like stick-men.

They brought back Duo Abelard for the first encore, singing a stripped-down version of “Engel” on an island stage across the stadium from us, then the entire band boarded three inflatable boats (a concert staple but usually only featuring Flake) and let the crowd carry them back to the main stage.

One of the best effects came near the end when Till strapped on an ominous-looking backpack before singing their eponymous track, "Rammstein," inspired by the 1988 Ramstein airshow disaster from which the band takes its name. In the early days, Till would sing this song while wearing a jacket with the back and sleeves fully engulfed in flames. On this tour he escalated things by using his rocketpack to create a huge fan of flames around him in a fiery starburst, or as the girls called it, "the fire peacock."

I took a handful of generally low-quality photos and videos, partly due to my increasingly unreliable memory, but also to commemorate the occasion. It was the loudest, biggest, craziest and wildest concert I had ever attended, and I was there with two of the people I love most in the entire world, and they were enjoying themselves as much as I was.

Before leaving for Minneapolis, I had expressed disappointment that Audrey hadn’t chosen to join us as she appreciates the band but wouldn't describe herself as a fan the way the girls and I do. 

Looking at our faces in the selfie that Glory had somehow managed to capture with her fancy new iPhone though, with our broad grins in the foreground and a fiery conflagration in the background, I realized Audrey was right to let us go on our own. So we could fully revel in this strange, powerful, almost atavistic spectacle as fans absolutely delighted to be there.

I hope the latest album, recorded spontaneously during the pandemic, isn’t the band’s swan song. But they aren’t getting any younger (Till is turning 60 next year!) and the closing track for the album and concert is entitled “Adieu}, so part of me wouldn’t be too surprised if they hung up their axes after this colossal and no doubt exhausting tour.

But even if they do, the girls and I can say we saw their biggest show, in an incredible venue, during an extreme thunderstorm that we could barely tell was happening. And when people ask me how it was, I will think not only of the sound and the spectacle, but its significance to the three of us and the travails we endured to get to the show, and I can say this truthfully:

I have never enjoyed a concert more in my life.

Pulpitations - Whose Words In Our Mouths?

So, yeah, the lectionary was a bit unforgiving this week in terms of my being compelled to address controversial topics to an audience who might take nuanced views on the subjects discussed. I was pretty nervous throughout (and it was already pretty warm in the church, and the children's hymn had actions) so it made for a sweaty morning.

But I tried to be honest and clear, and got complimented afterwards by two theologically-inclined fellows after the service; a former Anglican priest I had met when he visited our booth at St. Albert Pride, and a retired gentleman in town for the Blues on Whyte Festival who is returning to theological studies in hopes of becoming a chaplain. And still no raw produce thrown before or after, so I am chalking it up as a win!

SAF

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An IQ test I took in seventh grade asked me the difference between law and justice - I struggled with my answer, saying that justice is what people want and law is how they try to achieve it. Looking bad, I think it is a fair starting point, even if I probably cribbed it from the Batman comics I devoured so voraciously.

Rule of law - I believe in it!

But this obedience cannot be a given - what about when laws are demonstrably unfair? If laws are unjust, they should not be obeyed.

This is not a new concept; there is a long tradition going back to St. Augustine of Hippo: ("nam mihi lex esse non videtur, quae justa non fuerit") "for I think a law that is not just, is not actually a law"

Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. said “One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws.”

But how do we discern injustice from inconvenience? How do we sift justice from simple preference? We can look back with confidence at Rosa Parks, sure, but what about people who try to block pipeline development? Or shut down abortion clinics? Or defy vaccine or mask mandates?

Canadians have a right to protest, but Albertans can be arrested if their protest compromises infrastructure. Is this Justice?

Or consider John Calvin - son of a prominent Hamas leader who attacked him with a knife when he discovered he had converted to Christianity, and who came out as gay to his father over the phone while in Canada as a refugee. But in 2014 he received a letter of deportation from our federal government, leaving it a tossup as to why he would be killed where he came from - for his apostasy or his sexuality. Deporting him may have been the law, but was it justice?

Everyone seems to have a different idea about what makes a rule or law unjust. Earlier this year we saw scores of transport vehicles paralyze our nation’s capital in response to what they thought was an immoral curtailing of human freedoms, but which the actual majority of Canadians felt were reasonable safety standards during a global pandemic that had killed over 5 million people at that point. Where some people saw a Freedom Convoy standing up to an oppressive state, I saw a ‘Flu Trux Klan’ exerting unreasonable pressure on a city and nation’s capital in an attempt to change the elected government.

Last week former Governor General Adrienne Clarkson called out these same folks for what she described as the “desecration of the War Memorial in Ottawa and the defilement of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.” In an opinion column in the Globe and Mail entitled “Canada’s War Memorial is a reminder of selfless sacrifice, not a vaudeville stage for loud-mouthed ignoramuses,” she writes, “That the memorial to the selfless sacrifice of over 100,000 Canadians in two world wars, Korea, the Balkans and Afghanistan should be a vaudeville stage for loud-mouthed ignoramuses using the word “freedom,” when they are actually taking away fellow citizens’ liberty by occupying and fouling community space, is repugnant.”

I am probably biased, but to me, those sound like words God has put in her mouth.

In the case of Jesus, he gets called out for healing a woman on the Sabbath, a proscribed day of rest that no work should be done on. But Jesus calls out the hypocrisy of his accusers, saying they would not hesitate to lead an animal to pasture or water on the Sabbath.

Jesus clearly places the helping of others ahead of even well-established behavioural rules, and Luke underscores it here to reinforce the rightness of Jesus’ actions. Throughout his gospel, Luke emphasizes Jesus’ works and teachings and takes steps to ensure Christ is depicted as a teacher rather than a magician. In this story, his defiance of the rabbis takes centre stage, not the miraculous healing or expulsion of demons. Why is this? Maybe because most of us don’t have the skills to exorcise evil spirits or heal folks, but we are all of us able to call out hypocrisy and stand up to unjust rules. You might even say we have a responsibility to do so.

The Hebrew scripture we heard today from Jeremiah has the author trying to avoid the authority and responsibility God is giving him, but to no avail. In the end, Jeremiah is told in no uncertain terms that the messenger is not as important as the message God has given him. As the Creator puts it, “‘Now I have put my words in your mouth. See, today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant.’”

Now, the downside of passages like this one is that it can potentially be used to justify all manner of bad acting in the name of doing what is “God’s will” or “right” or just.” And working out precisely what is just and fair and right, as we all know, can be a tricky proposition fraught with peril and opposition!

But nowhere in our scriptures are we told that there will be no consequences for the things we say and do, even -or sometimes, especially - if they are done in God’s name. Jesus tells us in John’s Gospel that “If you were of the world, the world would love you as its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you. Remember the word that I said to you: ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you.”

St. Augustine is said to have excommunicated himself prior to his death as an act of public penance and a show of solidarity with other sinners.

Martin Luther King Jr. wrote one of his best treatises on civil rights while in jail with other protestors for refusing to obey a blanket ordnance prohibiting “parading, demonstrating, boycotting, trespassing and picketing.” King famously said “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere” and that “any law that uplifts human personality is just. Any law that degrades human personality is unjust.” He was also fully aware of the potential consequences and risks of such actions and eventually paid the ultimate price for his stand.

Our theology is much more about unsettling questions than it is about comforting answers, so accordingly there is very little precise guidance in determining if a law or rule is unjust.

But there is a good chance you feel it in your heart. And if you feel it in your heart, and your head nods in accordance and your hands clench or your fingers fidget as you wonder how best to act, then it is possible you are on the right path. If you are acting for the well-being of strangers, that is another great indicator.

If you take the time to discuss, to reflect, to investigate, and most importantly, to listen for the small, still voice of God, the way may be clearer, and the path to change may be shown. You may say you are unready or unworthy, like Jeremiah, but Let God put his words in our mouths.

The comfort of the status quo can be stagnating and stultifying, and must be continually re-examined. Our own United Church must proceed cautiously in this regard; remember that while we were standing up for the rights of sexual minorities to participate in church sacraments and even ordination, we were still involved with Indian Residential Schools! Even today we vacillate between standing up for environmental stewardship and preservation and refusing to address racist national policies in the middle-east.

And how ironic is it that our denomination was once called “Canada’s mainstream Protestant church” and had the ear of multiple national governments, grew out of what was itself a protest movement (hence the name!) and which itself grew out of a faith that began as secret cult and persecuted sect!

Like a lot of scriptural proclamations, today’s readings prompt more questions than answers, but Luke’s example of Jesus healing a woman despite the objections of those who maintain the sanctity of rules over human compassion gives us a clear illustration of our responsibilities as Christians: to look after others.

Going back to John Calvin’s story, there was a time there when it looked like churches in the Edmonton area might be asked to offer literal sanctuary to John Calvin in order to prevent his deportation and likely murder. This meant someone might have to stand at the door of a church and tell the authorities that they were not welcome, and face the very real prospect of arrest and incarceration.

I had never had a cause appeal to me strongly enough to risk such an outcome, but imagining this poor guy just trying to live his own life in a way that felt morally consistent to him and facing death at the hands of his own family for doing it? I told myself that if they called for volunteers I would do it.

Who knows if I would have actually had the courage to follow through or not? John Calvin fled to the US instead, where he was granted asylum in New York City, which he still calls home. But for a brief and glorious time, I was finally ready to put my actions firmly behind my beliefs. As the saying goes, “if they don’t cost you anything, they aren’t really principles.”

Populism is a notoriously poor guide to what is truly just, but perhaps we can still take heart in the spectators in Luke’s story - after admonishing his critics, we are told “the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing.”

There are hard miles ahead on the path to Justice to be sure, but here’s to all of us working towards a fair and joyful future, like the one Jesus has outlined for us in his teachings!

Amen

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Jeremiah 1:4-10

Jeremiah’s Call and Commission

Now the word of the Lord came to me saying, ‘Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.’

Then I said, ‘Ah, Lord God! Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy.’ But the Lord said to me, ‘Do not say, “I am only a boy”; for you shall go to all to whom I send you, and you shall speak whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, says the Lord.’

Then the Lord put out his hand and touched my mouth; and the Lord said to me, ‘Now I have put my words in your mouth. See, today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant.’

Luke 13:10-17 

Jesus Heals a Crippled Woman

Now [Jesus] was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, ‘Woman, you are set free from your ailment.’

When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, ‘There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day.’

But the Lord answered him and said, ‘You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?’

When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing.

Whitney Lakes - Beaches and History

I am always partial to camping in the mountains, but when I asked Audrey where she might want to go this year, she said due East. When I looked for provincial campgrounds with power that weren't too far, Whitney Lakes Provincial Park fit the bill. Ready access to a number of beaches, a town with a decent grocery store only half an hour away, and with fuel nearly $2 a litre, a 3-hour drive suited us just fine.

Our campsite at Ross Lake was the last one in the loop and remarkably well treed, which meant not having to make awkward eye contact with your neighbours everytime you got up from the picnic table or what have you. Tragically, I had gotten saturated with rain while loading the trailer on Monday morning and by Wednesday had symptoms consistent with bronchitis (hey, at least it wasn't covid again, right?).

It was a nice campsite that I tragically neglected to photograph, but between the trees and our 10 x 10 sun screen, it made for a very nice spot. We strung up a line for Canéla so she spent much less time getting tangled than last year, but the abundant squirrels near to drove her mad anyways.

We spent a fair amount of time doing as much nothing as possible, but still found time to take our tubes to the Whitney Lake beach on a hot day, explore Heinsburg and Alberta's last standing wooden water tower, and stumbled across Journey North Cider Company while taking a giant loop around the area and seeing Bonnyville and Kehewin Lake - beautiful country, and taking it in from an air-conditioned vehicle with Glory at the wheel was just the thing for my post-bronchial recovery.

Two historical highlights stood out for us though. The first was visiting the interpretive centre at Fort George/Buckingham House. We would not have known about this amazing site at all had it not been for the blue roadside attraction sign we saw on the highway as we drove to our campsite the first time.

I was honestly expecting a self-guided bit of signage showing the site of competing outposts from the Hudson's Bay Company and North West Company which predated Fort Edmonton by almost a decade, but we instead found a gorgeous interpretive center with tremendous displays, a good amount of artifacts and a perspective that did a great job incorporating the indigenous perspective.

It is ideally set up for young learners and school groups, but the three of us had a great time there - should you find yourself around Elk Point or Heinsburg, make a point of checking it out!

We also took a trip out to the Frog Lake National Historic site. If the same sounds familiar, the Frog Lake Massacre was a key event in the 1885 Northwest Rebellion/ Riel Resistance, and here, signs and a memorial cairn are all that stands to mark the event, but the signs do good work.

They present the facts in a context that invites an objective appraisal of western history, starting with  Rupert's Land being sold outright to the Dominion of Canada three years after Confederation.Such a sale was something the indigenous leaders had literally no concept of - land ownership was as foreign an idea to them as any science fiction idea you might come across today. By 1876, most Cree tribal leaders had signed Treaty 6, but not Chief Big Bear, who stalled and resisted, sure that the treat would be broken and warning others against signing it. He finally relented in 1882, but was reluctant to choose lands for his people's reserve. 

In the winter of 1885, the government cut off promised food rations in order to force Big Bear and his people to move into a reserve where they faced brutal conditions. In March of that year, news of the Métis victory at Duck Lake reached Big Bear, and despite his protestations, his war chief Wandering Spirit, his own son Miserable Man (AKA Little Bad Man) and six other men went to Frog Lake intent on moving the white settlers from there onto the reserve.

Tensions ran high, the Indian agent who had denied the Cree rations was killed, and when the dust settled ten settlers were dead - it is their stone cairn that stands at the site to this day.

Prime Minister John A. MacDonald breathlessly announced the Frog Lake Massacre in the House of Commons, which galvanized the government to send both militia and North West Mounted Police to apply a heavier hand to the resistance. The rebellion was put down, and the eight Cree were tried without legal counsel and hanged in Battleford, then buried in an unmarked grave.

Children from the nearby Battleford Industrial School (an Indian Residential School) were brought to watch the hangings as a "warning," but this may have backfired, as Howard Adams wrote in his book, Prisons of Grass: 

Every member of the Indian nation heard the death-rattle of the eight heroes who died at the end of the colonizer's rope and they went quietly back to their compounds, obediently submitting themselves to the oppressors. The eight men who sacrificed their lives at the end of the rope were the champions of freedom and democracy. They were incomparable heroes, as shown by their last moments.

This grave was forgotten about until 1972 when it was rediscovered by students and eventually a simple headstone naming the eight men was placed there: Wandering Spirit, (Kapapamahchakwew) a Plains Cree war chief, Little Bear (Apaschiskoos), Walking the Sky (A.K.A. Round the Sky), Bad Arrow, Miserable Man, Iron Body, Ika (A.K.A. Crooked Leg) and Man Without Blood.

Big Bear, despite the testimony of both settler and indigenous witnesses describing his efforts to prevent the killings and keep Wandering Spirit and the others on the reserve, was convicted for them anyways as chief, and spent three years in prison, dying a year after his release.

I've forgotten so much of what I learned of the Red River and North-West Rebellions - names of battles and people like Batoche, Cut-Knife, and Gabriel Dumont are still with me but diminished in significance. I was grateful for the opportunity to re-learn a bit about it.

I was surprised to learn that Glory's curriculum had included almost no mention of these events ( I swear we covered them on three different occasions over junior high and high school) and I mused as to why this might be.

"Maybe they knew how angry it would make people like me," she said earnestly. Her sense of injustice had been especially provoked by the juxtaposition of the memorial cairn for the settler victims and an unmarked grave for the Cree.

That was the day we took our long drive, quietly appreciating the beautiful country and letting the lesson we had learned soak in.

Ideally, a vacation should promote feelings of joy and relaxation, not anger at injustices from a century ago, but we were only too willing to trade a little enjoyment for a bit of enlightenment, and hopefully some wisdom too.

And the lake was still waiting for us when Fenya joined us on Friday, and the rain stopped early Sunday, so the trailer was dry this time when we packed it. All in all a great vacation!

Masked Melancholy Crooner - Orville Peck at EFMF 2022

The highlight of this year's Folk Fest was an artist I hadn't heard of when the lineup was announced back in May, which wasn't too surprising. The fact that masked retro cowboy crooner Orville Peck has captivated our entire household in such a short time is maybe a little less expected. 

One of the few out performers in country music, Orville Peck (a pseudonym) has a tremendous baritone voice and a repertoire of rusticated songs that sound at once out of step with modern stylings and yet timeless in their painful honestly about loneliness and loss; a true antithesis to modern pop country. 

Self taught on guitar and keyboards, he released his self-produced debut album Pony in 2019 and an EP (Show Pony) and follow-up album Bronco since then, alas well as a tremendous assortment of well-produced music videos.

Bronco got played through a few times while we camped out ot Whitney Lakes at the end of July, but Glory had already bought her first Folk Fest ticket well before then. I met her near the gate a little after 7 pm and enjoyed watching her take in the spectacle of one of Western Canada's largest music festivals. 

We enjoyed Trinidadian ex-pats Kobo Town on a side stage before settling in on The Hill to watch The War on Drugs, the lantern parade and finally, Orville Peck himself. 

Resplendent in a classic cowboy ensemble featuring a barbed wire motif in addition to his signatuire fringed mask, he captivated the thousands in attendance for over an hour. His deep, powerful voice seemed to strengthen with every song, hitting incredible sustained notes on C'mon Baby, Cry and The Curse of the Blackened Eye. His 4-piece band are a solid bunch of accompanists as well.

Staying until the end of his set shortly after midnight was not the brightest move for either Glory or myself, with her needing to drive an hour out of town immediately afterwards to meet some friends for a visit, and my volunteer shift needing me back on-site at 6:30. But it was a wonderful and joyous performance (despite the innate sadness of many of the songs, like Kalahari Down) and neither of us had any regrets. 

In fact, I am pretty confident that the next time Orville rolls through town, the whole family may be in attendance.

If you don't like country, Orville Peck probably isn't going to change your mind. But if you have any appreciation for tremendous vocals, passionate songwriting and a bold showman who has hollowed out an incredible space in that thin overlap between sincerity and irony, he is certainly worth checking out, and his videos are top-notch.

Daytona Sand - weirdest, funnest, does his own stunts including surfing an 18-wheeler

C'mon Baby, Cry - live on Jimmy Kimmel

The Curse of the Blackened Eye - twangiest, strong contender for weirdest, Norman Reedus guests

Let Me Drown - amazing vocal showcase

Legends Never Die - duet with Shania Twain (!)

No Glory in the West - stripped down melancholia and brilliant scenery

Road Cider Attraction - Journey North Cider Co.

This year's camping trip saw us turn away from the mountains and head east to Whitney Lakes Provincial Park. northwest of Lloydminster. The park itself has secluded campsites and multiple lakes with clean beaches, which was enough of a draw for us. But the area also includes a number of historically significant sites which made for some great day trips. On the way back from one such trip we made another great discovery - Alberta's northernmost cidery and taproom.

Friday was a hot day of 30, too hot even for a dip in the lake, so Audrey, Glory and I took a tour of the area and visited the Frog Lake National Historic Site. My misreading of Google Maps then saw us take an extended sightseeing trip north to Bonnyville, but on our way back to the campsite, I saw the familiar blue roadside attraction sign for Journey North Cider Co..

I became very excited, having only first encountered Alberta's newest cidery about a month beforehand. I had noted Bonnyville on the label but then put it out of my mind, so this felt like a very fortunate opportunity indeed. I love taprooms and the tasting of flights, and talking with the people who produce them, but as the only beer drinker in the household, it is not exactly a family outing. But we all like cider, so I excitedly directed Glory to pull into their spacious parking lot.

The air-conditioned taproom was its own reward in many ways - clean, spacious, and overlooking the farm and orchards backing onto the building, with an upper level reservable for parties and events. 

We took three seats at the bar where Angela, the taproom manager, welcomed us and told us that flights were currently on for $10. I ordered a selection of four (crisp. cranberry, hopped grapefruit and blueberry rosé) while Audrey and Glory split another, swapping out the grapefruit for a cherry instead. There were also a number of local-ish beers on tap and their own version of snakebite (cider and lager) they call "Lakebite".

The ciders were uniformly amazing and covered a broad spectrum of flavour profiles. Blueberry rosé had the most wine-like characteristics and would not feel out of place alongside a chardonnay on a hot day, while the hopped grapefruit was even more refreshing and a great gateway cider for beer fans, but at 6.3% abv was not exactly session friendly.

The flagship crisp was delightfully dry, as Angela explained that they were trying hard to differentiate themselves from the sweeter ciders already on the marketplace, such as Okanagan and Growers. Cranberry was undoubtedly my favourite though, bringing just a bit of pucker to the party.

While we drank them, Angela related the trying prospects of launching a business during a global pandemic (October of 2020!), and how helpful it was to win the local Chamber of Commerce's Perseverance award the following year. It came with advertising funds at a time when their ad budget was zero, and let them start spreading the word a little more effectively. 

Now the taproom has a number of local regulars who drop in, but also gets holiday wanderers like ourselves. "Putting up that blue highway sign is the best thing we've ever done!" Angela laughed. Their ciders have won a number of awards, and Journey North has also been recognized for their educational efforts. Certainly Angela was able to talk very comprehensively about almost all aspects of the ciders we tried.

On our way out, we made sure to grab some of their ciders from the cooler (including Mythic, a gamer-inspired cider made with butterfly pea flowers and no longer available on tap), and Glory grabbed a pair of sweatpants with their logo as well.

On our way back to Edmonton on Sunday we stopped in for Sunday brunch with Fenya, and enjoyed breakfast poutines, stuffed brioche French toast and huevos rancheros (tragically, they had already sold out of their amazing-looking breakfast charcuterie). It was all delicious, and now I hope we have a chance to return sometime to try the other food offerings - and any creative new ciders they may have come up with in the meantime!

Should you ever have cause to be around Bonnyville, all four of us can highly recommend stopping in at the Journey North taproom.