Tag: Greg MacPherson

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Greg MacPherson :: Dropping Fireball on the World

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by Matt Williams

Winnipeg’s own hardest working man in showbiz, Greg MacPherson, will release his sixth studio album, Fireball, on October 29. The album combines MacPherson’s lightning-in-a-bottle live show energy with the skills of award-winning engineer Cam Loeppky and the razor-sharp, heart-pounding drums of Rob Gardiner. Stylus caught up with him over some expensive rum between painting his basement floor and an early-evening photo shoot. Continue reading “Greg MacPherson :: Dropping Fireball on the World”

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Nova :: Midnight, Midnight and the beauty & frustration of Winnipeg

by Darcy Penner

Of the many ways one usually expects a band to form (from the ashes of previous bands, high school friends jamming with beer stolen from their parents, the side-project that was only supposed to be about fun, etc.), Nova’s inception has a unique flare to it: a release for workaholics bonded by their love of, and commitment to, Winnipeg. That, and two-thirds of the band didn’t really play their instruments. Continue reading “Nova :: Midnight, Midnight and the beauty & frustration of Winnipeg”

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Disintegration Records :: Building a Formidable Indie Community in Winnipeg

Greg MacPherson
By Sheldon Birnie
Winnipeg-based Disintegration Records officially launched this past September, with the release of Greg Macpherson’s Disintegration Blues. The tightly knit label is also home to local acts Nova, Haunter, Slow Dancers, and Cannon Bros, whose full-length Firecracker/Cloudglow is Disintegration’s second release. Continue reading “Disintegration Records :: Building a Formidable Indie Community in Winnipeg”
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Hillbilly Highway – Back on the Nowhere Road

There is a road that stretches back in time, back beyond the interweb, beyond compact discs, cassette tapes, vinyl records and gramophones. It winds between hills and hollers, follows riverbanks and lakeshores deep into the woods and across tall grass prairie. It picks up from quays and travels back across seas, crossing itself time and again in backwater voids, where wind whips dead branches against nothing and scavenger birds craw out in vain.

This is the same road Steve Earle and Dwight Yoakam sang about in the 80s, same road the Boss, and Dylan before him. Before them all, Hank Williams sang about this Lost Highway. The sands of time have largely obscured the names of those who sang about it before ol’ Hank, but their numbers are legion and their ghosts walk the road still.

This is the Lost Highway, the Thunder Road, Highway 51, Route 23. The Hillbilly Highway, the Nowhere Road. The low road. Maybe you’re walking it now, following your dreams up and down Pembina Highway or Portage Avenue, Highway One or 17.

I been on many of these roads, myself. I just cruised down a gooder: west on provincial Highway 2, with a south turn at Holland onto 34. 34 hits a stop at 3, then heads west again to 3A. Now you’re in country country.

The tiny village of Clearwater, MB has hosted the perennial Harvest Moon Festival for the past ten years. Formed as “a celebration of the harvest season, local food production, the area’s rich cultural heritage, and the bond between rural and urban folks,” the festival is like no other in Manitoba. A strong community dedicated to surviving against the economic and political forces that are draining people and money from the prairies, Clearwater is itself a beacon of potential for any community struggling to remain viable in the 21st century.

And the music is fucking good too. Highlights, for me, this year were the Deep Dark Woods, CKUW favourite Greg MacPherson and Ridley Bent’s Good Looking Country Band. Each delivered to-notch performances in weather bordering on frigid. Many other acts performed throughout the days, including Bog River and the Reverend Rambler, names to look for on the hillbilly highway in the months and years to come.

Keep your eyes on the road. It has a way of winding somewhere strange.

– Sheldon Birnie

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Review: Greg MacPherson – Mr. Invitation

greg_macpherson’Peg City favourite son Greg MacPherson is now onto his sixth album, and with Mr. Invitation he scores big points for once again keeping it all very real. G-Mac doesn’t really fit into any neat musical categories, and that is most likely by his own design. We the listeners are the benefactors of this rather iconoclastic stance. As usual, urban angst looms large in the songs. MacPherson has the keen ability to write delicate songs, dug directly from his own first-person experience, and make them keenly universal in scope. Whether he’s riding a bus in “West End,” considering geographical relocation in “Visitor,” or just taking stock of his situation in “Traveling Style,” the songs are usually about some kind of forward motion. The heart-on-sleeve attitude that MacPherson delivers isn’t a weakness either. This is a guy that allows difficult emotions to simmer to the surface and then deals with them with consideration—something that the alpha males of the species should be advised to try once in a while. MacPherson’s band deserves special mention, especially nimble-fingered guitarist Steve “Batso” Bates and thinking-man’s percussionist Jason Tait (of the Weakerthans). Both these cats understand that MacPherson’s music is about understatement buoyed by the strength of conviction, and that is exactly how they play. Bates’ playing comes off like daubs of colour in a sometimes-grey bleak landscape, while Tait actually “plays” his kit rather than just banging away at it. The album sounds good, too. The production is airy and bright and even when the band is kicking out the jams a little bit it always sounds clean and present. MacPherson deserves all this at this stage in his career. He has worked long and hard getting to where he really needs to be to attract an even wider base of fans. This album should get him there. (Smallman Records, www.smallmanrecords.com) Jeff Monk