Somewhat appropriate to the “folk noir” genre in which she places herself, Wendy McNeill’s tour story is about a haunted venue in the small Dutch town of Ottersum, where she opened for Norwegian songstress Ane Brun. 

“It was in an old cathedral that used to be an orphanage,” McNeill begins, “then a place for retired nuns, then it was abandoned for years and years. In the ’60s hippies moved in, but eventually problems with heroin and squatters started to happen, so they all got evicted, and it was empty again for another 10 years. It had this really weird history behind it, and I knew about this history before I was going to play there.

“It was an autumn day, it was windy and raining when we were pulling up—and it was creepy. We had to put all our gear onto this black iron elevator with squeaking wheels, and slowly rattle up the outside of the building, four stories, to get to the main room of this cathedral. As that was happening, I looked down and saw these two ghostlike figures walking out from the trees. I’m totally serious: old, tattered clothes, white, crazy hair. I was obviously very startled.

“And I wasn’t the only one who saw it!” she adds. “We all were like, ‘What the hell!?’

“We started doing soundcheck and there were these strange sounds and drafts of cold air to the point where we’d hear moaning. At first we thought it was feedback, then we’d stop and say, ‘Did you hear that?’ And yep, we all heard it.

“So we were gradually getting more and more freaked out. After soundcheck we go to our band eating area, and we have to go down these winding, dark stairs, and through this place with long cathedral ceilings and narrow hallways, all candlelit—very creepy. And the whole time we hear this ‘Wooooo! Woooo!’, like a cross between crying and moaning.

“We basically lock ourselves into the dining area, and the guitar player—who’s this six and a half foot Scandinavian guy—goes out to use the washroom. We hear this bloodcurdling scream and he comes running in, and looks completely frail. Through his chattering teeth he quickly tries to describe this ghost woman that ended up screaming in his face.”

“Wait,” I say. “It wasn’t him who screamed?”

“It was the ghost that screamed!” McNeill says. “It was a woman’s voice—although he probably screamed too!” She pauses. “Or maybe it was him, and he just blamed it on the ghost. in any case, at this point we were like, ‘That’s it, we’re getting out of here.’

“But the door opens again and the artistic director comes in, and four other ghostlike people come in behind him. In between hearty laughs he introduces us to these people who are actors in residence that were performing a cathedral theme for the month of October and Hallowe’en. So they were just messing with us.

“It was brutal, and totally mean. But pretty funny—afterwards. And then we had an incredible medieval feast, and had a great time with them.

“The joke,” she concludes, “was definitely on us.”

McNeill returns to Edmonton for a sold-out show at the Transalta Arts Barns as part of Night of Artists on April 27. I haven’t heard anything about the Arts Barns being haunted, but then again, you never know... Bring a flashlight, maybe?