Hey pals!
I’m writing you from my old hometown of Longtan, Taiwan. I’ve been here three nights already, and it still feels utterly surreal. I arrived Tuesday morning after a sleepless night flight from Melbourne via Singapore, watching awestruck as we floated over the whole island: the turquoise waters around the southernmost peninsula’s white sand beaches, the green mountaintops of Alishan and Yushan protruding from a thick sea of clouds, and the sprawling cityscape all up the western plain. Then zooming in as we descended toward my old stomping grounds in Taoyuan County—the flooded rice paddies, the gleaming rooftop water tanks, the ochre dirt, the rusted rebar and concrete, the neverending construction, the maroon temples and shrines, and all the flowering trees in bloom.
Robby—an Arizonan who’s been here for more than half his life now—hooked me up with a scooter rental, a helmet, and a reminder that the laws aren’t as lax as they used to be, and suddenly I was off, driving through a maze of memories, finding my way to my old house and some old haunts along routes I used to know, marvelling at how much things have changed and how much they’re still the same.
When I first came to this town twenty-five years ago, I wouldn’t have believed how deeply I’d fall in love with this country, let alone that I’d be back here after all this time. I remember my first boss taking me on a little tour, showing me the central “dragon pond” from which the town gets its name, the massive Shimen Dam nearby, and a statue of Guanyin, the goddess of mercy, looking down at us from the thickly-treed mountainside. She’s the Chinese version of Avalokitesvara, the Indian Boddhisattva of compassion, who’s usually depicted as male and sometimes many-armed. Here she’s tall and thin and androgyne, usually standing atop an open lotus and pouring out a vase of water to symbolize her compassion for all suffering beings. Her name means the one who hears the world’s sounds.
Before long my boss helped me buy a used 50cc scooter, and I went crazy exploring. On weekends or even breaks between classes, I’d rip up into the mountains. I tried finding Guanyin several times but kept getting lost on the little winding roads, sometimes even chased by dogs. On my first fruitless attempt I came up with most of a song called “Guanyin” that ended up on my first album. It sprung from a wish to be more merciful and humble in the world, and it’s written from the perspective of somebody who still thinks he’s going back home soon.
I never found her.
On my first morning here I resolved to go looking again. I’ve been making a point of not driving with GPS lately, just looking at the map beforehand and memorizing where I want to go, and it seems to be reawakening my powers of observation. Having seen the map, it still took me a couple attempts to find the right road, including a false start up a dirt track only to be chased back down by an angry dog in full sprint. It also took me knowing how to read her name in Chinese, which I couldn’t do back then, but eventually I made it to the park she’s in, hiked up the hill and found her, looking down over the valley all the way to Taipei.
I met a group of three Taiwan blue magpies along the way, and stood awhile marvelling at their lilting aerobatics, long striped tails and quirky songs, and wondering at how oblivious I was to birds back when I lived here, never even knowing the name of the myna birds with all their crazy vocalizations.
Places change when you change. I mean, I was into nature and learning Chinese back then, but getting bent, taking risks, and meeting gals sure took up a lot more of my mental space. Nowadays the world feels realer, and way more interwoven. I have less time to live, more to lose, less to prove. And the island feels way bigger than it did then. Later that day I found my way into Taipei by following the Da Han River, picked up my stored CDs from the warehouse, and bombed it another hour and a half back along my old route. My butt was sore and the sky was dark by the time I got to Longtan, but it reassured me that I’m still up for another 1500kms or so around this rugged, beautiful country.
My first show’s tomorrow in Beipu, Hsinchu County, at my friends Mike and Samantha’s new forest sanctuary Wonderwood. It looks gorgeous. My old high-school and Anglers bandmate Tyler’s gonna play lead guitar on a few songs. I booked an afternoon show so any of my old pals from around here can make a day trip of it, even bring the kids if they want. The next day I’m playing another afternoon show in Taichung, and by Monday I’ll be well into the mountains.
I can’t believe I get to do this.
Sat Mar 28 • Beipu, Hsinchu County • Afternoon show at Wonderwood w/ Mike Mudd opening
Sun Mar 29 • Taichung City • Afternoon show at The Frog
Thu Apr 2 • Kaohsiung City • Black Dog Pub
Fri-Sun Apr 3-5 • Jialeshui, Pingtung County • Spring Squawk at Shady Tree (I’m on Saturday)
Sun Apr 5 • Taitung City • Uncle Pete’s Pizza
Fri Apr 10 • Hualien City • Salt Lick BBQ w/ Mister Green opening
Sat Apr 11 • Wai’ao, Yilan County • Drifters Pizza Pub
Sun Apr 12 • Taipei City • Vinyl Decision
If you've got friends in Taiwan, I'd love to meet them. As always, all the details are on www.scottcook.net. Afterwards I’m headed home for the first time since August. Pamela and I are only playing one show—a house concert at my friends Logan and Paige’s place in Calmar, Leduc County, Saturday Mar 2—but I’ve got plenty to do on the home front and the album front before we head back across the pond for a few dates:
Thu May 14 • Lønstrup, Hjørring, Denmark • Lønstrup Festival
Fri May 15 • Gjerlev, Denmark • Kærby Mølle
Sat May 16 • Borre, Denmark • Café Borre
Sun May 24 • Sheffield, England • Café #9
Tue May 26-Fri June 5 • Scotland bus tour
Tue June 9 • Montrose Folk Club, Angus, Scotland
We’ve got four great Canadian fests on our summer calendar: North Country Fair in Driftpile, Alberta June 18-21, Wild Oats and Notes in Tofield, Alberta, June 26-28; Starbelly Jam in Crawford Bay, BC, July 10-12; and Folk On the Rocks way up in Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, July 17-19. Pamela grew up in Yellowknife, but I’ve never been, and I can’t wait to see it. Keep an eye on www.scottcook.net for fall duo dates across the prairies and out to Ontario, then solo dates all over the Central and Eastern States.
Australia recap
This last little run around Australia turned out pretty miraculously, given the circumstances. I’d planned to tour and record an album with my longtime collaborator, upright bassist and songwriter Liz Frencham, but Bell’s palsy struck her out. It was a harsh reminder of how tenuous everything always is, and how particularly precarious independent music is as a way to earn a living. She’s made lots of progress since then, but we’re still sending her well wishes and extra oomph.
Luckily, my friend Robyn Martin was available for all but one of our gigs, and we were able to pivot the recording session to her hometown of Candelo, New South Wales. It’s my favourite Australian village, home to a ridiculous percentage of musicians including my old pal David Ross MacDonald, who agreed to co-produce the recording.
The new combo’s first show was at Cobargo Folk Festival, the fest that started it all for me in Australia. On my first tour in 2014, my new friend Enda Kenny managed to talk them into adding me as a last-minute addition to the program, and they let me play two sets in a little shed that now serves as instrument lockup. For my fifth time at the fest, we got to sing to full houses on the biggest stages. I was especially grateful to see so many familiar faces among them—folks who’ve stuck with me and helped me out in innumerable ways over the years.
Thankfully, I didn't get sick or lose my voice at the fest, because the following week was our only chance to record the album. Dave had already spent a couple days borrowing equipment from far and wide to set up a temporary recording studio in the barely-used Kameruka Church, an old stone building perched on a hill in the rolling pastureland outside Candelo. I’d sung inside that church once before, eleven years ago, when my friend Bill Brown brought me there to record a video of my song “If He Showed Up Now” and a magical thing happened: the sun that had been streaming through the stained-glass windows ducked behind the hill just as I played the last notes.
The church doesn’t have a bathroom, so Dave rented a porta-potty. Robyn hauled her tent trailer into Dave and his partner Rae’s front yard for Justin to sleep in, and I van-camped in their driveway. Rae lined up the food, and they set up a little camp kitchen outside the church. There were sheep grazing all around, cockatoos and kookaburras coming by with bits of song, and some incredibly loud donkeys that Dave had to ask the neighbouring farmer to move so you wouldn’t hear their braying on the record. We dug in for the week, reimagining and recording the bones of twelve new songs that’ll form the next album after Troubadourly Yours. I’m thinking it'll be antipodean-themed, with side A being Australis and side B Borealis.
photo by Robyn Martin
Incidentally, it was Dave who gave me the inspiration for “Pass It Along” all those years ago, when he told me he was just borrowing his guitar from the next guy who’d play it. He’s a killer songwriter and fingerstyle guitarist in his own right, but he’s also a drummer, best known for his work with The Waifs. He brought rhythmic and other arrangement ideas I never would’ve thought of, some of which I even resisted at first, that turned out to be brilliant. We burned the midnight oil a couple nights after Justin and Robyn went home, and we were still recording right up ‘til I had to split to get Justin to the airport on the last day, but we pulled it off. Now I’ve just gotta finish the liner notes for the album ahead of it!
We had two house concerts in Melbourne that ended up being the highest-earning gigs of the tour, and I know I say it a lot, but I couldn’t be more grateful for the people who open up their homes to host live music. They saved me from losing all my spark playing bars in the early days, and they made the difference between a profit and a loss on this Aussie tour.
We closed it all out at Yackandandah Folk Festival, another fest that’s played a big part in my Australian story, set in another of my favourite towns. This was my sixth time, and we had wonderful audiences for our shows and my songwriting workshops on both Saturday and Sunday. Best of all, my phone wouldn't work there, so I'd make a point of getting in an hour of email each day but otherwise just let my thoughts unwind without opening that little blue-lit window to elsewhere.
photos by Caz from Shadowboard and Les Thomas
I camped beside Yack Creek in our beloved campervan Hector for four nights in a row, listening to the creeksong, staring up at the southern stars and counting my bittersweet blessings. On the last morning I tore off my wristbands and drove into Melbourne to hand off Hector to Dave, who'll take care of him in Candelo while we're away.
My monthly new song deadline for my Fellow Travellers on Patreon's fast approaching, but thankfully I've got an idea. I'll let it bounce around in my head as I wind my way through the Taiwan mountains tomorrow. It's gonna be an eyeful.
Love and luck from here,
s