UPCOMING GIGS

  • Aug. 5, 2017 Private Party, Carnarvon, ON
  • Aug. 4, 2017 Music by the Gull, Minden, ON
  • Aug. 2, 2017 The Nice Bistro, Whitby ON
  • May 17, 2017 The Nice Bistro, Whitby, ON
  • April 29, 2017 Minden Cultural Centre, Minden, ON
  • March 24,2017 The Old Mill Toronto, Home Smith Bar
  • Feb.26,2017 San Pancho Music Fest. Mexico
  • Nov.5, 2016 Radio Hall, CanoeFM, Haliburton, ON
  • Nov. 2, 2016 le Nice Bistro, Whitby, ON
  • Sept. 4, 2016 The Red Umbrella Inn, Minden, ON
  • July 26, 2016, Head Lake Park, Haliburton, ON
  • Jan. 29, 2016, The Home Smith Bar at the Old Mill, Toronto
  • Oct.23, 2015 Gate 403
  • Sept. 9 The Nice Bistro, Whitby, ON
  • August 22, Gate 403, Toronto
  • August 14, Music by the Gull, Minden, ON
  • July 29 Hugh's Room, Toronto
  • June 13, Gate 403,Toronto

Wednesday, December 25, 2013

A BLUISH CHRISTMAS

As I say, it's bluish, tending to aquamarine.

Christmas Day, and the power is still off in my house (big ice storm), but I am very blessed and lucky, and been warmed and fed (and had my hair dyed), by friends and family.

Merry merry to all



and this was my look only hours before.....how Canadian, eh?  jammies with feet in them covered by hocky-playing moose.





HAPPY NEW YEAR, TOO.  WE'LL BE PLAYING AND SINGING OUR HEARTS OUT.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

OOT AND ABOOT

I do occasionally get out, but honestly, I'm not very inclined to do so in this extremely early winter weather.  Forty pounds of clothing reduces the spring in my step...
But Monday night I got over to Hugh's Room in Toronto for the Etta James tribute show, and what an amazing group of singers were there paying tribute.  A wonderful show, and here are some pics:
Sabrina Weeks; Andrew Galloway (Electofi Records); Shakura S'Aida

As above and Ross told me to get in there too

Dawn Tyler Watson in full swing

Cheryl Lescom and Sabrina Weeks

Again, but this time on stage with Carolyn Fe

Dawn, Shakura, Carolyn, Cheryl

Jesse Whiteley on piano and organ

meself and Dawn (no flash)

Dawn sings while Shakura tries to read her shirt



I seem to have left out a picture of Carolyn solo, maybe because it was a little blurry, but i'll bring it next time.
Cheers, and great job, everyone, including the band.

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

ALL IN GOOD TIME

and I'm all in, after my good time in Europe.
you can read all about it on my other blog:
zosogo.blogspot.com
Here and now, I'll just post the pictures of me singing in Barcelona at a great club - Jazzsi, with a fabulous band (i have a live clip which i'll post later).
and I'll mention the New Year's gig I have, although it's at a private party, so sorry to all my public who are wanting impatiently to see me perform.
i'm flippin' out....

i don't know why the computer switches these photos sideways

some of the crowd and stage

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

STILL CRAZY AFTER ALL THESE YEARS....

I know Paul Simon was the originator of that line, but not of the phenomenon. Many peoples is crazy for long times (i won't bore you with the story of my evil neighbours - but they're crazy in a non-fun way).  Me, i like to enjoy life, so....

Got a new video up on youtube:
http://youtu.be/jLFUPMXV1ws
Check it out and build up the viewing audience while you're enjoying the music and pics.

and don't forget the gig:
Nov. 14   9pm at
Gate 403
403 Roncesvalles, Toronto

always fun

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

OCT. 29

a birthday for many, probably, but also for someone i knew a long time ago.

and today, here where i live, it's cold; seems to have frozen my brain, and i'm all out of witticisms.

so i'll try to warm myself with pictures of the lovely weather we had back on Thanksgiving (mid-October in Canada).  Me in the sun of the north country, then piano time with a young relation at the family dinner.











NEXT GIG:
THURSDAY, NOV.14 9PM TILL CLOSE
GATE 403
RONCESVALLES AVE. TORONTO

DO JOIN US

Thursday, October 10, 2013

TIME KEEPS ON SLIPPIN' SLIPPIN'.....

What can I say?  it's been a busy time.  emotional upheavals; house painting; idiot neighbours; and finally some fun times again with my man, and a gig, and recording my radio show.
a great Italian meal the other night too, shared with that special man.

here's a couple of pics from the gig:
Julian yarrow, keys; tony cohn, drums; ron Johnston, bass; zoe, vocals; john deehan, sax

Julian, ron, zoe, john


and here I am in the canoe fm studio:
 

listen the last Saturday of each month 10pm canoefm.com

oh, and why not see my lovely newly painted room:
 
red and gold regal, n'est-ce pas?


and some past past-times in the country - looking pensive & serious; then being crazy on the bass, and finally - les marshmallows by the fire:




ok, that's it for now.  got another gig next week, but it's private.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

MUSIC MUSIC MUSIC

Nobody's dancing close to me, but still, it was a fun night on Saturday.  Music has the power to take me out of myself and all my worries.

It was the audience crowd that was up dancing, and they had a lot of fun.  The band always has a good time, and for this gig, we had a surprise extra player, Greg, who came on board that day (he was visiting Ian, our bass player).  Turns out he is a fantastic piano player, and was a very welcome addition to the already stellar line-up of musicians:
Paul Chilco, guitar
Greg Dechert, piano
Jake Fowell, sax
Paul Greco, drums
Ian Pay, bass
Here are a few pictures:
Jake

Ian, sideways (I did correct this on my computer...)

Myself (same story with the side view, as below, with me and also Paul G.


tout le band

Paul G

Greg, Paul G. Ian, Zoe, Jake, Paul C.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

GIG ON AUG. 31

Every time we've done this gig, the band members say they've never had such fun playing.  And of course, the audience loves that and they're up dancing and enjoying the night.
This time it's celebrating not only dance and the joy of music, but also the release, in Haliburton, of my CD 'Hook, Line, & Singer', and the inevitable end of summer. 
We have a great line-up of tunes and performers, so if you're in the area, come on out.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 31, 2013   8PM
THE MINDEN LEGION
HWY. 35 AND ROAD 121
HALIBURTON, ONTARIO

There will be photos of the whole gang and all the merriment later, but in the meantime, here's one of me on my recent birthday morning, a little happier than the last picture.
 
P.S.  if you can't make the gig, listen to my radio show on
canoefm.com
10pm to midnight on Aug. 31
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Monday, August 19, 2013

THE POPPIES GROW....

Even when people die, and times are difficult, those beautiful flowers are there....
A wonderful woman, a friend, died last week, and I just came from the visitation; pretty much everyone in the county was waiting for an hour to get into the funeral home and pay their respects.  A musical and fun person, who touched many lives.
This picture of me, taken last night,
looks worried, worn, and sad, and I guess I am.

Thursday, August 15, 2013

THERE'S HOPE

Riding the Toronto subway last evening, and saw this colourful message.
And obviously, Main Street anytown is where we all travel at some point on the rocky road of life, so there it is for anyone who needs it.  You're welcome.

Saturday, August 10, 2013

MUSIC BY THE RIVER

A gorgeous evening, and two wonderful musicians to accompany me - Paul Chilco on guitar, and Carl Dixon - of Guess Who fame - he was the lead singer for them for many years - Carl played drums for me.
Here are some pictures:






Tuesday, August 6, 2013

OUT STANDING IN MY FIELD

Can't help it.  I said I wouldn't make my personal life public, but it has to come out, otherwise it all turns sour within me.  So the poetry or the music pushes its way out of the birth canal, and I, as mother, have to express the nourishing milk - of human kindness - to myself? to anyone who hurts me? to the gods for making life thus?  Or just to anyone who will listen?

Early yesterday morning, the cold of the night met the warmth of the sun, and the resulting fog over the fields and in the trees made me think of "a grand soft day," which in turn made me think of someone I know, and that made me sad, and I had to just stand there, out in my field, and hope for grace, or love, or some spirit to infuse me enough to face the day, the 10th one of my grieving.
But at least I was out in the beautiful air of my northern Ontario town - one even farther north than Neil Young's, where all his changes were.  I'm going through some changes now.

I walked towards the woods and just kept going down the old logging road from many years ago.  The woods have a way of healing you, with their light and their green, their sweet sounds; and their silence.  Pretty soon I was humming "Davey Crockett" to myself, - since there are bears about.  It was a nice change from Guy Mitchell's "My heart cries for you", and all the other sad songs of love that flood out of my subconscious as soon as I awaken.

The day went on, as days do, and as they always will.  I'll get by - walking the woods, watching the waves, writing my words, and weaving my woe.  It doesn't lessen any pain, but it makes me feel part of a wider, ongoing picture of life, and I have to feel like I'm part of something larger than myself, just as I have to remind myself of the much worse sadnesses and horrors that are experienced by many in this world.

We all need to heal.

Friday, Aug. 9, 2013  6:30pm to sunset
Music by the Gull (Minden, Ont.)
Saturday, Aug. 31, 2013  8pm
The Minden Legion, Hwy 35
with the Dance Band
p.s. pictures from the Nice Bistro gig July 31:
Danny McErlain on piano; Zoe on vocals

Une rue en France; Zoe avec la bicyclette

A pensive moment


Saturday, August 3, 2013

A CONSTANTLY SURPRISING REFRAIN

I have a big unhappiness in my personal life these days, so I can't talk.  No words.
However I'm happy when I sing, so the gig last Wednesday was a good respite, (I'll upload pictures later), and I look forward to these ones coming up:

Friday, Aug. 9, 2013  6:30pm to sunset
Music by the Gull (Minden, Ont.)

Saturday, Aug. 31, 2013  8pm
The Minden Legion, Hwy 35
with the Dance Band 
 
Meanwhile, about a month ago I wrote this piece, called "LIVE THE DREAM".  Courage to those who will.

Ever wonder what you would have been if you'd lived another life, or if the events or circumstances, or people in your life had been different?
I was walking through an upper-middle class neighbourhood in Toronto the other night, on my way to an old-fashioned neighbourhood movie theatre.  I looked at the stucco and flagstone-faced homes - exteriors added on to the original brick buildings.  The lawns were shrubs and flowering bushes rather than grass; the entrances were all distinctively modified and diverse.  As I passed by with my straggly hair and black t-shirt and tights, my keys and Fox 40 whistle jangled on the lariat around my neck.  It was stamped with the logo of the music organization I belong to, and was my only "jewelry".
I walked along the street, and the early summer evening reminded me of times I'd spent in the city before I knew anyone, or anything; before I made any choices.  It made me nostalgic for the awakenings and newness of leaving home.
I looked at the neat, comfortable houses that spoke of achievement and confidence; of worlds foreign to me, and I tried to envision myself as mistress in one of those homes.  I would be married, no doubt - a state I had always studiously avoided - married to a lawyer, perhaps, with three or four lovely children, and a housekeeper.  I'd have a very good executive job with a very profitable company.  We'd have lots of good friends in high places, and we'd entertain below the chandelier and up at the cottage (in the family for years).  I would smile with pleasure and fatigue each night as we curled up with each other and dropped off to sleep.
"Don't forget that political meeting tomorrow night, darling.  It's an early start."
Then one night I'd dream a crazy scenario of myself singing onstage with a group of fun-loving musicians. I'd see me wearing a sparkly stage outfit, my hair long and straight like it was before the kids, and I'd experience this amazing rush of excitement and emotion and power that seems so real that it wakes me up.  I'd lie there looking through the curtain sheers at the full moon, and have a sense of sadness, almost, that the joy I'd felt had simply evaporated.


I'd watch the moon glide in the sky and wonder, thinking what would my life have been if I had gone a completely different route?  What would I be like?
Eventually, I'd get drowsy, and just before falling asleep again, I'd remember my hair appointment the next afternoon.



Tuesday, July 23, 2013

TO FETCH A PAIL


Here’s a little piece I wrote a little while back, when I arrived up north, and never got around to posting.  Very short summer reading.

TO FETCH A PAIL

Time, sunshine, opportunity – and life, really.  It all seems wasted on me.  I’m here on a beautiful beach, facing the western sun as it splashes itself over the lake and the sand and the other people here on this mid-July day.  Four in the water, six on the small beige stretch – including me.  Other folks may be just finishing their workday here, or in the city.  I shouldn’t have a care in the world, but I’m alternately pissed off or weepy.  Even the toddler running back and forth shouting “I’m gonna getcha” as he chases his parents, doesn’t cheer me up; or the cheer is fleeting.

What is it with me?  Come on, wind.  Blow the smell offa me. Blow me back, back, and back some more to a place in my soul that can breathe.  The sun is hot when the wind dies; the lapping water calls me then.  Come in. come in. Forget your miserable life and feel something real.  I just stare into space.

And then, suddenly, I’m aware they’re all packing up to leave, and it’s just empty beach; quiet; soothing; waves rocking.  I sit, like the abandoned metal pail a few feet from me.  It waits; I wait.  For someone to fill me; to carry me; to carry for them; I wait to be lifted; I wait to swing with movement; to shape a castle; to inspire play.

I finally get up and go to my car. I know from life that waiting for anything or anyone is a waste of time, that i must be my own activator.  I get my bottle of water, my fifty-cent samosa from the city, and my bathing suit.  As usual, I’m motivated by food.  On the way back, I pick up the metal pail, and place it on the sand beside my chair.  I put the water bottle in.  Champagne and hors d’oeuvres lakeside.

the knots of life

Looking inward is dangerous sometimes
Some people are walking on the road behind me, clapping, hooting.  If they’re trying to get my attention, they’re failing – other than having themselves immortalized in words.   I won’t look at them.  They pass, as all things must.  And meanwhile, in front of me, the waves pass.  I watch, and wonder where the thoughts that I brought here are.  I imagine their floating out from my head when I first arrived, and then being carried off by the water far away – perhaps to the next town by this time.  It gives me satisfaction to think that people by some other shore have my problems now.

Around the world they go.  And myself, like an ancient ancestor, wishing them godspeed.

There was a huge dark cloud a few minutes ago, blocking the sun.  That too has passed, and now – hot samosa inside, hot sun out – I’m feelin’ hot, and pressured by my brain urging me to go on! Be spontaneous! (spontaneously contrary to my own lethargy, at least).  Do something today.  Change the channel.

Here comes a speeding boat – silver dart; black silhouette; fading buzz of the motor carried away on the wind and overtaken by the sound of a car stopping on the road.  Voices get closer to me, and then the two of them come into sight as they walk, mother and daughter, circling a small area, searching.  My hand drops over the side of my chair, protectively hovering over the metal pail.  “Did you lose something?” I ask, standing up.  I play with my bathing suit, as if I was going to put it on.  “Her shoes.  Pink crocs,” said the mother.  “Haven’t seen them,” I say, “and I’ve been here for over an hour.”  They leave.  “Maybe some of your friends took them for you,” mom says to her dejected child.  A metal pail wouldn’t make her happy, I think.

 And then, honestly, I can’t explain.  One minute I’m watching them walk away, and the next, my nose is skimming stones and I’m watching the waves’ shadows on the lake’s bottom.  And I’m pushing my way to the surface, and backstroking along the shoreline, watching the tall pines of “Tall Pines Road” against the white clouds and blue sky.  The universal solvent dissolves; resolves.

I lie face down on my towel, and let the sun dry me, panting a little and letting my shoulders sink into the sand.  Those problems must be well on into the southern lakes by now.

Go on, fly, little birds