Josh Ritter and Halifax.

So, it's been over three months since I flew to Halifax to see Josh Ritter, and I haven't really written about it anywhere. I'm not even sure if anyone is curious anymore, but I feel that it was an important enough event for me to have some sort of record of it somewhere.

This turned out to be much longer than I had imagined it would be when I began to write. I tried to write as honestly as possible, and as a result, I've sacrificed any attempt I could have made at feigning nonchalance. I am a dork, but I am a happy dork.

I left St. John's early on October 20th, with nothing but the clothes on my back, two Josh Ritter tickets in my pocket....and a 70 litre hiking backpack filled to bursting. I don't know how to pack light. I am well aware of this. The flight was relatively uneventful, and since I have flown to Halifax myself before, I managed to locate my luggage and hop an airporter bus into the city with no trouble. I arrived at the downtown Marriott around 9:30, which left me with a few hours to kill before I had to locate Elizabeth's house for our long awaited reunion. Excitement level: 3.5.

I found a bookstore, and a Starbucks and settled down for a while to read, like a good little bookworm. Since I had made it that far into my first day without any problems, I was feeling pretty overconfident about finding a bus to Elizabeth's house, and I waltzed into the tourist information booth in the Scotia Square Mall, politely declined any assistance, and unfolded a bus route map. After standing stone still for 15 minutes or so, unable to make any sense of the sprawl of colored lines that lay before me – other than, I am here...Elizabeth is somewhere else... – the lady working behind the counter again asked if I needed any help, and this time I swallowed my pride and accepted. With her assistance, I made my way up out of downtown, and headed toward 2677 Robie Street. Evidently, 2677 Robie Street does not exist, and I spent a good deal of time wandering a small stretch of road between a Honda dealership and a Frenchy's store searching for a house that I was convinced defied the laws of street numbering – I am from St. John's, after all. Eventually, I found my destination at 2667 Robie street (Agh!), and rejoiced. I dropped off my (HEAVY) backpack, and Elizabeth took me on a quick tour of the Dalhousie Campus before she headed back to class, and I walked along Springgarden back towards downtown. Now, despite my earlier misadventure, I actually am semi familiar with downtown Halifax, so I browsed and shopped and froze my little fingers off as I gallivanted around the city for the day. Excitement level: 5.6. After a disappointing trip to Freak Lunchbox – no peach penguins to be had! – I bussed it back to Elizabeth's house for spaghetti and movies and sleep.

The next morning, Elizabeth headed off to work, and I headed back downtown for some more wandering, a little juggling, and scoping out of St. Michael’s church, where the concert would be held later that night. Excitement level 7.8. Now, I don't consider myself to be a highly strung person, I'm usually decidedly calm in the face of most things. That evening however, I was pretty much a basket case of excitement. I couldn't eat, took at least two hours to get dressed and ready, and when the bus that was to get me downtown was 15 minutes late I nearly had a flipping heart attack. I had allotted myself a generous amount of time – some would say excessive, and they wouldn’t be wrong – to get to the venue, so you can imagine my shock when I got within eye shot of the church and saw a line had already formed! Luckily, before my jangling nerves could allow me to burst into hysterics, I realized that there were only six or so people in that line. No problem, I could relax, as my chances of getting a good seat were still intact. My relaxation period was short, however, because almost immediately after I settled against the churchyard fence, Josh Ritter himself came out the front door to say hello to us all, and – I assume – grab some dinner or something before the show. Now, I'd like to be able to tell you about my appropriate greeting and clever remarks which incited camaraderie from my fellow line mates and everlasting love and approval from Josh, I really would. In reality, it was all I could do to remain upright and smiling with some appearance of sanity. It is safe to say that my excitement level at this point was completely off the chart of determinable excitement levels.

Then came the waiting.

Honestly, it was fun for the first 45 minutes or so. They say that anticipation is half the delight, and there is definitely some merit to that statement! However, once the line began to lengthen, the sun began to set, drizzle started to fall, and creepy street people began to question me about why exactly all of us "god damn protestants" were lined up outside of a church – I eventually had to pretend to strike up a conversation with the person next to me, when I realized said creepy street person was carrying a rifle shaped bag…—the novelty wore off. I was cold, anxious, and yes, worried about how my hair looked. After about an hour and a half of waiting, the doors opened! To my abject horror, I realized that there were two different door people taking tickets at two different doors, and the line in which I had so diligently waited was breaking up haphazardly. I am not proud of the way I shoved my ticket at the bewildered doorperson and sprinted up the aisle, nor am I proud of the way I snagged a seat out from under a group of friends who were taking TOO LONG to decide where they would all sit, but I attained a front row seat, and that's all that matters!

Now, if you've ever been in Cochrane Street church in St. John's, or any church similar to it, you have a pretty good idea of the layout of St. Michael's. It was not a huge church, by any means, so that meant that I was literally four feet away from the mic set up on stage. I couldn't have asked for a better spot! I settled in for another wait, though this time considerably less stressed. The venue was absolutely packed, and evidently someone had inadvertently left the background music in repeat mode – ever listened to "A Boy Named Sue" fifteen times in a row? I have. – but that's all I really remember about the time between when I sat down, and when the concert started. I'm pretty sure that I was just focusing on not passing out all over the man seated next to me. Richard Julian opened up the show, and he was truly fantastic. His CDs got confiscated at the border, unfortunately or I definitely would have picked one up.

After a short intermission, and amidst thunderous applause, Josh Ritter finally took the stage. Almost immediately, an enthusiastic chorus spread through the crowd from the balcony, regaling Josh with an heartfelt rendition of "Happy Birthday." That's right, not only was I getting to see Josh Ritter in a beautiful intimate venue, but I was getting to see him on his 32nd birthday! I honestly had no idea. He seemed genuinely taken aback at all the singing, and lay down on the stage, laughing, until we'd finished. This was a solo show, and while I'd definitely be into seeing him with a band, I'm glad that it was just him that night. He opened with Monster Ballads, and then – not in this order – Girl in the War, Thin Blue Flame, Snow is Gone, Wolves, One More Mouth, Kathleen, Good Man, Harrisburg, Wings, Me and Jiggs, Bright Smile, You Don't Make it Easy Babe, To the Dogs or Whoever, The Temptation of Adam, Empty Hearts, Stuck to You, Springsteen's The River, and a new song which I think may be called "Time" or something like that.

Early in, it became apparent that the man has a fantastic stage presence. He had this huge genuine smile on his face almost the whole time, which made it look like he was enjoying every second he spent on stage. Between songs he'd often tell stories, or make jokes. One involved the voice in his car's GPS system, another implored us to wish America luck in the upcoming election and expressed his condolences on the outcome of ours. At one point, he said that he felt like he just needed to shout, and got everyone in the audience to scream, yell, and let out whatever along with him.

All of the songs he performed were excellent, but I think my favorite moment was in the middle of "Empty Hearts" when he stopped in the middle of the song and decided that we should make use of the church's balcony, a la Romeo and Juliet. He got everyone to stand, then asked the people on the balcony to sing the chorus to the people on the floor, and then the people on the floor to those in the balcony. Standing in a group of enthusiastic strangers singing "don't let me into this year with an empty heart, with an empty heart" to another group of enthusiastic strangers was one of the most enjoyable things I've done at a concert. Tied in second place for my favorite moments are his performances of "Wings" and "Kathleen". For "Wings" he asked the tech guys if all of the lights could be turned off, and he performed in a darkness illuminated only by exit signs over the doors. In the middle of "Kathleen" a small pocket of the audience began to sing along, and as everyone joined in, he stopped playing and began to conduct. It was pretty priceless, and I later came across a video of it on Youtube!




At the end of the show, he thanked us and exited to stage left. As time passed, I resigned myself to the thought that he wasn't going to come back for an encore, but he soon came running up from the back of the church, laughing that the stage door had locked itself and he couldn't get back in.

Then came the portion of the evening about which I was most apprehensive. I had come to Halifax with a mission, which I would soon be able to complete. I brought a copy of Ian Foster's CD Room in the City (it's great, go buy it) to give to Josh, with the hope that he'd decide that it would be a good idea to come back to St. John's at some point. We have an enthusiastic and diverse musical community here, and more than a few Josh Ritter fans. As the audience trickled out I began to worry that he'd break his tradition and not make an appearance after the show. So, I scribbled a note, with the intention of leaving it with the CD on top of his guitar case if all else failed. My fears were unfounded, fortunately, as he strode out from the front of the church, ignored my outstretched hand, and gave me a big hug. I am quite proud of myself for remaining calm and articulate -- much more than I had anticipated, truthfully – as we chatted about the show, Bob Dylan, circus and Newfoundland. He signed my copy of The Animal Years, and between then and our goodbye, somehow managed to hug me twice more, and kiss my hand. Ahhhhhh.

Needless to say, I left St. Michael's in a state of happily bubbling shock, and called a cab to take me back to Elizabeth's. The cab driver had just driven someone else from the show, and asked me how I found it. I'm sure I managed to mumble something to him, but I had used up the last stores of my coherency while making conversation in the church. At Elizabeth's place, I packed and we ate pizza with her roommate and his friends before I collapsed into a deep sleep fueled by the exhaustion of maintaining such a level of excitement.

The next morning, I awoke at the punishing crack of dawn, said my good byes to Elizabeth and walked to catch the last city bus of my journey. I transferred from that bus to an airport shuttle, and arrived at the airport intact and punctual. It turned out that my flight was delayed, so I used the extra time to enjoy a Tim Horton's breakfast while jotting down everything I could remember about the concert in my notebook. I may have looked like a disheveled, sleep deprived crazy person on the outside, but internally I was thoroughly satisfied. I couldn't have asked for a better concert experience, and I'm so glad that I made the last minute decision to make the trip. I can only hope that when Josh finally decides to return to St. John's, I'll have even more fun surrounded by friends and all the Josh Ritter fans in this city.