|This was as close as we wanted to get|
|Matt made us gourmet sandwiches|
With another fine stay in our parents’ basement complete, we returned to the 401 to venture south. This time our destination was Windsor to spend the night at Greg’s uncle’s house. Uncertain of what to expect of Detroit’s sleepy Canadian satellite, we took to the road for our longest drive yet. Upon arrival, we were greeted by a Greg's uncle, Earl. He proceeded to cook us yet another steak dinner after which we desserted on Molson Canadian.
Three of Earl’s friends joined us. he night began as a lively room Jam, but Janet was blown away by an acoustic version of Alexei Martov’s nightdrive, especially Greg’s improvised violin playing. As the Argyles plan for quiet evening quickly subsided, Earl’s friends found impromptu venues for us to perform at. Soon enough, we embarked on our own little tour of the bar circuit.
|Jamming in the living room|
The first bar—the Queen Victoria Tavern—we were greeted by stares and whispers of its patrons, a diverse group of white middle aged loyalist biker-gang types. Could the Argyles and Alexei Martov win over this new demographic? We took to the stage for a stripped down set of sax, tambourine, and guitar. We tried all of the classics: headfull, life of Fridays, and blackjacks, but nothing could penetrate the rock hard exterior of these local rubes. Shortly we were told to stop.
|My dancing failed to win to bikers over|
We departed for the second venue with our tails tucked between our legs. It was going to be tough to win over this Windsor crowd. Fortunately, Janet had had an idea: she would sing, Greg play the fiddle, and our new friend Rick on guitar and play a set made up of covers. The onstage chemistry was undeniable, but it failed to draw a crowd outside of our little group. But Rick seemed to enjoy himself all the same. He thanked us afterwards and once again we departed, with Greg and Janet walking a bit behind discussing his future plans for music.
|The third and most awesome venue|
Our last venue was the Walkerville Tavern where Greg and Martin Bradstreet performed for another small crowd of middle aged but seemingly more sophisticated onlookers. This time, they really rocked it: after another rendition of nightdriver and other Martov originals, they moved into the covers, Greg specialty, while Martin accompanied on the melodica. The audience was tapping their glasses, swaying from side to side, and one came up and sang along with us. The barman even gave us two free pitchers of beer.