catherine:
i thought this was a very cool story. thanks for catching it. i was a
little nervous reading it; as it began i thought it was going to document
bad behaviour by joni (which we have heard of, though mercifully rarely).
but this was great, righteous anger in a righteous cause. the kind of joni
story you end up treasuring, just as spider robinson did.
for the record, spider robinson is a very successful, though somewhat
midlevel science fiction writer. he's mostly known for a series of short
story collections taking place in and around 'o'callaghan's saloon', a
fictional meeting spot for humans and aliens in a far future. high humor
quotient. very entertaining.
he also wrote, with his wife jeanne who was a modern dancer, a series called
something like the 'stardance' series. the near-future premise is that a
character, a talented dancer who can't continue her career on earth for some
medical reason, emigrates to the satellites (most near-future sci fi assumes
we'll have satellite colonies) and founds the first zero-gravity dance
company. this somehow becomes important when aliens come to the solar
system; apparently dance is the only communication. or something like that.
i don't remember the series well, but i do remember beautiful writing about
dance, which is extremely rare in every corner of literature i've sampled.
even sci fi, go figure <big grin, there>
subject veer to facelifts. i'm glad that so many are sure that joni hasn't
had work done, and treasure her for her true face. i don't either, and i
treasure as well. but just two years ago when there was a cool new york
times sunday magazine article about her, there was so much negativity and
trauma about the blunt, true-to-her-age photo that accompanied it. i
thought the photo was gorgeous, but i do have to say, we certainly are a
schizophrenic list. sometimes...
patrick
np - toby twining - shaman
>-----Original Message-----
>From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]]On Behalf Of
>Catherine McKay
>Sent: Thursday, February 22, 2001 10:57 PM
>To: Jonilist
>Subject: Joni and Tim - Spider Robinson column, Globe and Mail
>
>
>Here is an item that appeared in today's Globe and
>Mail. I don't know about people named "Spider", but
>this is kinda cool.
>
>Follow the link, or see text copied in below.
>
>http://www.globeandmail.com/gam/Commentary/20010222/COSPIDER.html
>
>Ballad of the rude Canadian
>Jean Chritien's recent travels may have confirmed
>Canada's genteel stereotype, but the first Canuck
>I ever met was a holy terror
>SPIDER ROBINSON
>
>Thursday, February 22, 2001
>
>
>I've been waiting more than 30 years for an excuse to
>tell this story in print. But perhaps I'd better just
>get it told, because who knows whether I, or its
>protagonist, will wake up tomorrow?
>
>Our Prime Minister's recent visits to China and the
>White House were marked, by all accounts, by excessive
>politeness. Members of his Team Canada party even
>applauded when Chinese officials carted off some
>Canadian students who used the occasion of the visit
>to protest against conditions in Tibet. "That's not
>the Canadian way," the visitors explained. For the
>zillionth time, we were reminded that most of the
>world knows Canada only as The Place Where They're All
>Polite. And this reminded me, as it always does, of
>the first Canadian I ever met, telling a crowd of
>admirers they were lower than weasel smegma.
>
>I'm guessing it was 1968. In those days, there briefly
>existed on this planet a phenomenon I despair of
>explaining to the modern consumer, called "folk
>music." Before it all blew over, it offered sporadic
>employment to people such as Tom Rush, Tim Buckley,
>Phil Ochs, Fred Neil, Judy Collins, John Koerner,
>James Taylor and Bob Dylan, some of whom went on to
>become legitimate musicians.
>
>One of the best songwriters in folk was Tim Hardin.
>He's not the above-mentioned first Canadian I ever
>met; he was American. His biggest commercial success
>was a song called If I Were a Carpenter,a hit for
>Bobby Darin. He wrote the folk classic Reason to
>Believe,and a haunting jazz ballad called Misty Roses.
>He was one of the best performers of his songs, with a
>smoky, fragile voice and guitar playing as crisp as
>breadsticks. He seemed poised to become one of those
>rare folksingers to earn a living. Then someone gave
>him some heroin.
>
>By the time of which I speak, Mr. Hardin had already
>flamed out at least once -- he'd actually fallen
>asleep onstage at the Royal Albert Hall. Now,
>chastened and fresh out of rehab, he was ready to try
>a career-reviving comeback. A tour was booked that
>brought him to my large state university. A humble,
>low-key folkie tour: just Mr. Hardin, and an unknown
>solo singer for a warmup act.
>
>I may as well confess this like a man: I was a
>folksinger myself, in those days. I've been completely
>rehabilitated through a 12-step program -- swear to
>God -- but back then, I was one of the first on line
>for Tim Hardin tickets.
>
>Then, before the concert actually happened, everything
>changed.
>
>Not for Mr. Hardin, but for his warmup act. Lightning
>struck, and set her ablaze. A shy folkie with the
>obligatory long blond hair, hailing from some place so
>nowhere it wasn't even in the United States, she
>unexpectedly became a pop star overnight. So when Tim
>Hardin's big evening finally arrived, the house was
>packed . . . but nearly everyone had come to hear this
>Joni Mitchell chick.
>
>She was wonderful, of course, and held the huge crowd
>spellbound, in the palm of her hand, and when she was
>through, the standing ovation seemed to go on forever.
>Then Tim Hardin came out on stage, and Ms. Mitchell
>left . . . and so did a good quarter of the audience.
>
>The doors of this dark gymnasium, enormous ones, were
>on either side of the stage, and the lobby outside was
>brightly lit. So the policy was to keep those doors
>shut while someone was performing onstage. Otherwise,
>you were shining a big light into the audience's face,
>wrecking the ambience. Those wishing to enter or leave
>were required by ushers to wait until the
>song-in-progress was over.
>
>This is good policy when only a few people want to go
>through the doors. When many people try to leave at
>once, however, the result is large milling crowds on
>either side of the stage.
>
>As far as they were concerned, the show was over. The
>star had already performed, and this blockage at the
>door was just some temporary screwup. They made no
>attempt to keep silent -- didn't even bother keeping
>their voices down. Some shouted, the better to be
>heard over that guy onstage nattering on about
>carpenters and tinkers. Cigarettes were lit, some
>containing tobacco; raucous laughter rose above the
>general hubbub.
>
>Tim soldiered on. He finished his first song, to a
>smattering of applause, watched the doors open and a
>flood of people race to escape his music. He began
>another song, watched more chattering crowds form at
>his left and right as he sang, and flee the moment
>they were allowed to. He started a third tune; same
>result.
>
>He stopped in midsong, unslung his guitar, leaned
>closer to the mike, said, very softly, "How would you
>like it if somebody pissed in your canteen?" and left.
>Some folks didn't even notice.
>
>But they sure noticed when an avenging angel swept
>down from the bleachers, trailing blond hair like
>fire. Ms. Mitchell sprang onstage, grabbed the mike,
>and for the next five minutes, she cursed that crowd.
>We were barbarians, pigs, reptile excrement; she
>profoundly regretted having performed for us, and
>would tell every act she knew not to come here because
>we didn't deserve to hear music; she maligned us and
>our relatives and ancestors until she ran out of
>breath, and stormed offstage. Leaving behind hundreds
>of baffled people . . . and a handful like me,
>cheering even louder than we had for her songs.
>
>Mr. Hardin cut that tour short and went back to
>heroin. His performance at Woodstock the following
>year was cut from the movie. It took him another 10
>horrid years to die, at 39. At his final gig in 1979,
>they say he just played one song -- Hoagy Carmichael's
>Georgia -- over and over.
>
>I've been waiting 33 years for a chance to thank the
>first Canadian I ever met for her magnificent rudeness
>-- not to mention her astonishing command of invective
>-- and now I've finally got it done. If there's ever
>anything I can do for you, Ms. Mitchell, I am yours to
>command.
>Spider Robinson's CD Belaboring the Obvious, featuring
>original music and readings, is available at
>http://www.spiderrobinson.com; his story collection By
>Any Other Name has just been published by Baen Books.
>Get your free @yahoo.ca address at http://mail.yahoo.ca
