Posted on June 18th, 2015 | by Leslie0
Day 18/27 – Lorne Allan
You know him well, my friends, and if you’ve only heard him once you’ll remember the melodious (and rarely melodramatic) Lorne Allan.
Lorne is a man with a voice that qualifies as dulcet, a claim few can rightly make. He can quiet a crowd just by starting to sing, and his meticulous guitar picking style has the same effect. You have to become still to hear him, not because you cannot otherwise hear him but because you cannot do otherwise.
Lorne, Rob Birmingham and I quickly became the 3 Amigos at open mic nights. We’d sit at the corner of the bar together and listen, sing along on harmonies, and affectionately heckle our friends. To each other we’d speak nothing but sarcasm. (Believe me, it was hard to write this in a sincere tone. I feel like I’m breaking our rules of engagement.)
In the time we’ve known each other Lorne and I have performed on the same bill and the same stage, and we’ve learned one another’s songs. On my album he plays acoustic guitar on a track we’ve played together often. He’s as complimentary a musician as you’re likely to find, humble as they come. He hosts the Songsmiths at the Moonshine once a month, showcasing singer-songwriters from far and near (next one: Wednesday, July 22). He’s an all-round talent.
Lorne, (let me reset the proper tone here) you’re the oldest man I know, constantly in need of mending. You can almost – and I’m being generous with “almost” – keep up with me at the bar. And your long and frequent absences from Tuesdays are almost as unforgivable as mine. Why Rob remains friends with either of us, I don’t know. If you haven’t fallen apart by the 27th, I’ll meet you on stage and we can rock the house, ever-so-gently. For your ruthless injection of camaraderie (in all sincerity), thank you.