A few nights ago we had the chance to see Old Crow Medicine Show. This province isn’t a place that I’d think would normally be on their map, so it was a pretty nifty thing for myself and my friend. At the end…
The encore had ended, you could tell there’d be no more music because the earplugs had come out, and the audience began leaving fairly quickly. Roadies started disassembling the stage, and one of them threw something way up high and out towards us. I looked up, it might not even have been seen by many others, and thanks more to luck than skill the yellowish-pale object — could it be a rag, a headband? — landed in my left hand. A crumpled piece of paper. Three guys behind me said, “What did he catch?” and I decided not to look. We left. Out in the street, our ears blocked with music, and under an old-fashioned street lamp near a building that went up in 1847 and which has stones springing out from the exterior, but is finally the object of long-delayed restoration and repair, I uncurled the damp ball. Here’s what it was:
Cool. Everyone in front sang along to this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axIVVxsGOsY
Jeff Bursey is a literary critic and author of the picaresque novel Mirrors on which dust has fallen and the political satire Verbatim: A Novel, both of which take place in the same fictional Canadian province. His newest book, Centring the Margins: Essays and Reviews, is a collection of literary criticism that appeared in American Book Review, Books in Canada, The Review of Contemporary Fiction, The Quarterly Conversation, and The Winnipeg Review, among other places. He’s a Contributing Editor at The Winnipeg Review, an Associate Editor at Lee Thompson’s Galleon, and a Special Correspondent for Numéro Cinq. He makes his home on Prince Edward Island in Canada’s Far East.