It was a lavish evening as three separate acts performed at last weekend’s Safety Meeting concerts held at the Central Cariboo Arts Centre Friday and Saturday.
On Saturday, March 19, the evening opened with a clever introduction penned and delivered by musician and teacher Brent Morton.
As he stood at one of the microphones on stage, Morton described each of the acts, often drawing laughter from the sold-out audience.
Describing Sam Tudor as a “man genius from Big Lake,” Morton said he wanted to dispel any rumors of Tudor as the type of band leader who forced his band members to like Sam Tudor videos on YouTube.
Morton suggested Colin Easthope’s band represented the “vanguard of 21st century masculinity.”
“Joining Easthope on stage will be some local alpha males serving up a souvlaki of folk meat, marinated in a country-fied rock sauce, grilled just so,” Morton said.
He then went on to say North Vancouver’s Tegan Wahlgren, with the stage name Walgrin, was a performer of rare note.
“Hers is a delicate balance of discord and beauty,” he said.
It was hard not to agree with Morton’s assessment of Walgrin as she began performing her one-woman show.
Playing her violin, and using recorded vocal and violin loops she created right then and there. Her performance was captivating.
She has one of the biggest vocal ranges going and it’s beautiful.
Easthope, playing with his brother Kevin Easthope, Morton and Brandon Hoffman, sang both originals and some covers.
Colin is a great story teller.
One of his songs calls on various saints to come to his aid.
“St. Anthony put me back in my place,” he sang.
To close the evening Tudor, was accompanied by his brother Harry, who drove from Vancouver that afternoon, Wahlgren and Jasper Wrinch, also from Vancouver.
Billed as Sam Tudor and the Shimmering Biscuits they performed songs from Tudor’s last CD Modern New Year and some new songs he’s recording.
One of his new songs is about trying to be truthful and not wanting to be useful. It’s easy to predict the song will be a hit.
By request, Tudor sang a song he wrote in Grade 9 or 10 with friends for a talent contest at school about nobody being perfect.
“That song is the bane of my existence,” he said as he reminded the audience to remember he was young when he wrote it.
By the time the group’s last notes lingered in the arts centre, it was already 11:30 p.m. For the nominal price of a ticket, the audience had been treated to three hours of great music in intimate surroundings.