There are about five repeated dreams that I can actually remember from my many nights of slumber. One of those dreams just recently came true. In this particular dream I envisioned one day sitting across from one of my favorite performers - Mary Margaret O’Hara. Around us would be an array of musicians…incredible musicians, all tastefully playing beside us back and forth, laughing, chirping and experiencing the inner magic that is this marvelous performer. Well, at midnight at our February residency show at the Tranzac this dream became a reality.

For our final two songs of the evening the Lipliners, consisting this particular evening as Marsh on baritone clarinet, Bessen on piano, Moi on guitars and vocals, Posgate on banjo, Holt on the keys, Ollivier on drums, Maynard on bass, Van Tassel on a sampler, Howell on violin, Stacey on a saw, Beth on a mini tuba, and the added bonus of Julien Beillard (from Tusks and the Wooden Stars) on electric guitar were united by the sweetest sounds of a singing angel. Mary Margaret joined in beautifully to sing on “Faith” and a new tune called “A Grin That Makes You Grin”. My mouth hurt for a few days afterwards because I couldn’t stop smiling! I love playing live music. Thank you for listening.
R

Hey, thanks for listening. The next record is coming along along yup
it is. And we will be putting up some new tracks here in
the beginning of March. Some fun shows coming up in Toronto and
Montreal, an awesome music video and plans for touring again in the
summer and fall are brewing. Had some fun doing these little
interviews over the last few months...

"If Joanna Newsom gave birth to Tom Waits' illegitimate daughter and
then refused to breastfeed her, the girl might grow up sounding a lot
like Toronto's Ronley Teper."
http://www.blogto.com/music/2007/12/the_good_weirdness_of_ronley_teper/

CBC Stuff and Nonsense, and Sometimes Y. Listen to audio (scroll
through a little bit to get to Ronley, but the whole show is quite
interesting)...
http://www.cbc.ca/andsometimesy/pastshows.html?s3-ep13

O.k so i've been reading alot of bios lately as i peruse the world at myspace. It's amazing how many people have opened for or shared the or screwed that or ate the same thing as "bigname enter here" But what about the real story the story behind the artists upbringing the VH1 special the the "Making of". So I called my PR person Yelnor Repet and said "my bios shit", please write the truth the whole truth.

So this is my real bio...

Some years ago Ronley was cut out of her mothers belly in a Pretoria hospital in South Africa. After years on the bottle, she learned that she was allergic to milk and that nobooby could understand her bottle talk. After moving to Canada, she quickly learned to assimilate with the help of the English language. She never forgot the bottle and began to experiment with words in both English and Bottle. She is an experimental storyteller, singer, songwriter, joker and friend to those who never had the opportunity to breast feed. She has toured and will be departing again this summer to parts of Europe, Western, Central Canada, and New England.

Alrighty so here i am aka la fille de recollection.
I was on a few planes in December, and did not get an ear infection. I learned that you can say the word cunt in the UK without dirty repercussions. I realized that I can no longer buy a submarine sandwich after days of fresh baguettes in Paris. I learned that it's not the place but the people. The people make the place, and k sera sera (sp?)  I've been reminded that sometimes you have to trust in trust more than in what you feel you must. C'est what?  I don't really know, just letting me head go to my fingertips and then to the keyboard. I played with a fabulous trumpet player named Tom Arthurs in the UK, he is amazing. What else... well i'm home in Toronto, playing with some of the greatest people i could imagine, and we love each other, and we just love to play. New members include animal on conilingus (my spelling is atrocious) Pegster the puppet monster, and Madame 2 litre red.  Who could ask for anything more. Thanks for reading this rediculous moment of reminisce. 

I remind myself everyday.  I remind myself to remind mysef.  I remember.  It's like this, the power of weather.  If it's raining my knee hurts. If it's sunny I hop on my bike and ride around the city streets aimlessly.  Maybe I pick up a Chai and curse myself later for spending five bucks on something so easily makeable at home.  But then I get on my bike again and ride around aimlessly.  Then I go home, and have the eternal struggle of "oh it's so nice outside, I wasting the last few days of nice weather, but I have to practice, I have to make calls, I have to book shows. I have to.  I have to take care of myself. I need to eat better. I need to not oversteam my brocolli.  I need to do nothing.  It's that time of year, the October hustle bustle, the conflicts and resolutions maybe by Christmas.  The light winter jacket, and oh crap time for a scarf. I get back on my bike, but this time with a hat on so my ears don't burn from the windy tunnels that hear the honking of the cars, the chatter of cabbies on cell phone ear peices, the kids coming out for recess, the inner dialogue telling me to go home and practice.  Ode to October. I have a crazy desire for a peice of pumpkin pie.  Yada Yada

Ron

Some gossip for ya... I recently moved to Chinatown and purchased my first pair of silky slippers. Slipping away and bringing me back to the days of littledom when I would dream of Hello Kitty. And this is where the tale gets juicy. The other day I was walking and as I usually do peeked into the windows of every passing shop or restaurant that reflected the passerby's in the window. Low and behold to my utter surprise did I spot the likes of the famous Ms. Kitty. She appeared to be sitting happily at the counter of one of my favourite watering holes. She was illegally smoking a cigarette (as us Torontonians no longer can smoke inside) while knitting an adorable little sweater and sipping on a long island ice tea. A multi-tasker she must be. I really wish I could understand what she was saying when I went inside and approached her to ask for her autograph. She turned to me with a purr and then a hiss and said "Meox meox meox meox!". Without a second glance she turned her furry paws away from me, and started back up on her little kitty sweater. Was she just having a bad day? Did I not greet her with the affection a kitty should receive? Needless to say, Hello Kitty was not so great at saying Hello, and suddenly I became a women. Oh I'm such a joker. See ya Ron