Search

User login

SV Calendar

Upcoming events

Art Exhibit: Hope in the Shadows(event)(1 day)
ZY Qigong Class for Energy Healers & TCM Practitioners(event)(2 days)
Enhancing your Fat Burning Potential(event)(2 days)
OPEN HOUSE at Access Natural Healing (event)(3 days)
CONSCIOUS VIBRATIONAL ALIGNMENT WORKSHOP(event)(4 days)
SHAMANIC DRUMMING & DREAMING CIRCLE:(event)(4 days)

Barenaked Bio-Rock

Five ladies and a big green bus

by SARAH ROWLAND

“If I had a million dollars/ We’d take a limousine ‘cause it costs more.”

It’s been more than a decade since five nerdy guys from Scarborough put to music a list of things they would buy if they only had the money.

Well, a lot’s changed since the Barenaked Ladies recorded that 1993 CanCon hit. For one, they do have a million dollars, probably several. Secondly, they are more likely to take a fuel-efficient ride than a gas-guzzling, rock-star cliché.

In fact these days, the group may be putting nearly as much energy into backing environmental causes as they do into their wackysongwriting ways. But this year, they’ve decided to take their eco-crusade to the next level. To support their new album, Barenaked Ladies Are Me, they’re attempting an all-green tour, something they got a taste for during their 2004 excursion with Alanis Morissette.

“We just got the bee in our bonnet,” says BNL lead singer Steven Page about his life-altering experience with Morissette. At the time, the Canadian songstress was one of the first touring acts to enlist the services of Reverb—a Portland-based, non-profit organization that coordinates with musicians who want to reduce the environmental footprint caused by life on the road. (See sidebar on next page.)

“After that tour, we did a lot of talking to the David Suzuki Foundation and went back to Reverb. They helped us with everything from sourcing biodiesel to making sure we have compostable stuff—that is, if we have to use disposable plates and forks—to educating the whole band, crew, caterers, and promoters—the whole deal.” Of course, revamping every aspect of a tour has its challenges, especially when it comes to teaching old roadies new tricks.

“There were certainly lots of jokes about all the recycling bins backstage and we had to keep reminding them to refill their water bottles, rather than just grab another,” says Page, who now tours with two Reverb reps. “But you know what? The crew has been great with it—as much as I was a little nervous that they would be really bad with it.”

And taking a little ribbing from roadies was nothing compared to finding a set of wheels that was both safe for the environment and its passengers.

“Bus and truck companies were really hesitant to work with us, because a lot of the manufacturers’ warrantees are void if you use more than what’s called B5, which is five per cent biodiesel. So a lot of the bus companies were sending out older, less reliable pieces of equipment.

“But we’ve overcome that and now we actually have some good working relationships with these companies. It certainly was an educational process, though,” he says. Along with greening their ride, the other major overhaul was in the catering department, where more often than not, travelling musicians are forced to endure reheated frozen slop loaded with preservatives.

“I hate eating terrible food,” says Page. “I’m on the road six months out of the year. And when I’m at home, I do eat good-quality, local organic food made by me with love. But out here, the food is shit so much of the time. So now we’ve started being very particular about what we eat and what we feed our crew.”

He’s quick to point out, however, that he hasn’t put his hired muscle on a steady diet of kelp shakes.

“It doesn’t mean we’re serving hippie food, because our crew is…well they’re crew. They’re roadies and you still have to give them meat loaf, but I want to make sure that it’s decent meat loaf.”

And it’s not just the band and crew atoning for their environmental sins. BNL has made a special effort to make its audiences feel as though they’re playing a part in making a difference as well. That’s why the band challenges its fans to make their trip to and from the concert a carbon-neutral journey. So, for every pound of carbon dioxide concert-goers emit into the atmosphere, they can offset it by purchasing stickers at BNL shows, with the proceeds going toward new renewable-energy projects, such as wind and solar ventures.

“It’s been awesome,” says Page. “Since the beginning of October, we have offset 750,000 pounds, or miles, of CO2 and just the fans alone are doing that.”

With impressive stats like that, Page feels they’ve accomplished a big chunk of what they set out to do. Next time, however, he’d like to use a higher percentage of biodiesel. He’d also like to see some eco-improvements made at the “front of house” of each venue.

“We’ve had almost zero impact on that,” admits Page. “There’s never any recycling or decent house food. It’s still the same beer and pretzels and whatever else. I think that’s where the audiences come in. When they start demanding those kinds of things, then those things will start changing.”

After listening to Page talk so seriously about his planet-saving mission, it’s hard to believe he is the same kook-meister who entertained thousands of MuchMusic viewers with his band’s wacky antics on Speaker’s Corner. But Page insists the live performances are still as nutty as ever.

“Oh, God. Yes, of course,” he says. “Every night our show is completely silly—full of raps, made-up songs, and goofy dances. I think that’s what keeps us balanced, too.”

Not only does clowning around on stage keep the band from getting totally depressed about the state of Mother Earth (although Page admits he does feel overwhelmed from time to time), he thinks their sense of humour is why so many people are willing to accept their message.

“If I was just earnest about the environment and politics and didn’t have any of the other stuff to go with it, I can’t imagine why anyone would ever want to hear me talk,” he says. “But when you mix it [the message] with song and shenanigans, it kind of rounds out the picture and that’s important.”

The BNL bus rolls into GM Place Feb 3. Check out reverbrock.org/barenakedplanet for more info.

Sarah has spent the last few years crisscrossing the country, writing about music, fashion, and film.

Please email comments to letters@shared-vision.com

The Drum Makers

Ancient tradition leads to a new way to solve battles

by DIANE SELKIRK, photo by Nancy Bleck, Slanay Sp’ak’wus

Hereditary squamish chief Bill Williams stands on the banks of Sims Creek.

Mist rises from the rushing water and fades into the dusky light. Across the river, mountains tower. “This place is called Nexw-ayantsut. It means transformation,” Williams says. Once, long ago, his people had the ability to transform themselves into animals, and deep in these mountains, the Squamish people are once again making this journey of transformation.

In the group are two Squamish youths. They may have heard this legend a hundred times, but still they stand transfixed. Myths have meaning to the Squamish people; the stories help explain their relationship with the land and their role in the universe.

Ten years ago, this moment would have been unimaginable. The Elaho Valley and Sims Creek were at the centre of B.C.’s “War In the Woods.” In 1995, in an effort to educate people about the pending clear-cutting, art student Nancy Bleck and legendary mountaineer John Clarke bypassed the violent protests and brought camping groups into the Elaho to see the vast watershed. Bleck says she and Clarke were convinced that solving our land issues meant “moving beyond protest and finding a new model of communication.”

Williams, the region’s Watchkeeper, heard about the visitors and travelled to observe them. When Bleck noticed him standing apart from the group, she asked who he was, then asked if he would welcome them. He explained that they had already breeched protocol by travelling into the territory without permission. Surprisingly, he didn’t send them away, but offered to join their circle.

Bleck recalls being humbled in this moment. “I realized that, even as an environmentalist, it wasn’t possible to do no harm.” She says that, by not collaborating with the Squamish people, they were perpetuating historical wrongs.

The idea for the Ut’sam/Witness camping weekends grew from this new connection. Williams explains that the idea for the weekends has its roots in Salish tradition, where you are hospitable to others, especially those who are your enemies. He says that, if you invite people into your life and teach them your ways, they may start to respect you.

The camping weekends began with an ancient Witness ceremony, a cornerstone of the Squamish culture. It consists of calling someone to act as witness every time important work is done. The role is both an honour and a responsibility. It requires the witness to listen without judgment, and then to tell the story of all they have learned.

During the next 10 years, all of the stakeholders (not just environmentalists) were invited to the river. Mountaineers, politicians, lumber-company executives, loggers, and families came to the river and sat side by side. Teachers from the Squamish Nation taught traditional skills. Together, visitors learned plant gathering, cedar art, and how to make drums. More importantly, they learned what it meant to witness: to let each other speak, to learn from each other, and to return to their jobs and communities and tell others what they learned.

While many different people came to camp, people from the Squamish Nation were initially absent. “It took years for that trust to develop,” Bleck says. Williams explains that his people “knew the ceremonies and knew the locations to hold them but they were afraid to go.” Lumber company ownership meant they felt “ostracized in their own land.” He says Ut’sam/Witness acted as a catalyst, an invitation, “showing people they had a right to return to sacred places.”

During a final opening ceremony of Ut’sam/Witness, Williams stood with his hands raised in ancient welcome. He explained that Ut’sam/Witness was over. Peaceful discussion between all parties had done what no amount of protesting might have accomplished: Interfor had agreed to sell Tree Farm License 38 to the Squamish Nation.

In a reversal of roles, the Squamish Nation now controls the land and Interfor is the customer. The lumber company now depends on the Squamish band for lumber, while environmentalists trust them with the land’s stewardship. The Land Use Plan is pending approval by the B.C. government in March.

Ut’sam/Witness was a deceptively simple idea that seemed to be about camping in the woods, listening to stories, and learning traditional skills. As the Squamish Nation regains control of its traditional lands, it’s clear there was another lesson: When you take the risk, and invite your enemy into your home to teach them about what you value most, peace can follow.

Diane Selkirk writes about the environment and breathes what passes for clean air. Visit dianeselkirk.com.