Nadia Elkharadly: How I met Bob and other Funny Moments

I’ve been writing about music for a couple of years now, and have attended countless live shows.  Generally I like to take a buddy to this things, as it’s just more fun to have someone to drink with, chat with and sometimes commiserate with, depending on how good/bad the band is.  On one particular December night my show buddy wasn’t feeling well and begged off.  Left to my own devices, I braved the cold winter night and walked up to Dundas and Bathurst to check out a young group of musicians in a bar I’d never been to before.  The venue was the Hard Luck Bar. The band was Courage My Love.

I had corresponded with the band’s manager Nicole up until the gig, and being the sweetheart she is, she recognized me from my photo on Twitter and set about introducing me to people once she discerned that I’d arrived solo.  It was a bit of a whirlwind at first, but there was one introduction she made that I will never forget; the one to Mr. Robert Segarini.  Nicole pulled me up to him and said “You need to meet Bob.  He’s a writer, you’re a writer.  Talk.”  When she flitted away to continue about her managerial duties, I had no idea she had left me with a man that would not only become a collaborator, an editor and a producer to me, but a dear friend as well.

The first thing Bob said to me after Nicole Hughes (seen here with producer Chris Perry) introduced us was “you’re a writer? Do you write films?” I told him I did not, but mentioned that I had a friend who did.  We probably talked the entire night, in between breaks I took to snap photos of the band, and that Bob took to cheer loudly for his indie music favourites.  Even in that loud bar, and after only minutes long acquaintance, Bob managed to tell me one fascinating story after another.  It got to the point that I actually wrote to Emer and asked her to Google him from her computer at home.  I believe my words were “tell me if this guy is for real or not”.  And as I, and I’m sure many of you readers have come to learn, Bob was, is, and forever will be the realest of real deals.

Our collaboration initially began as a three way partnership between Bob, Emer, and myself to work on a movie idea Bob had.  We started having weekly meetings at The Standard on College, a charming restaurant that served delicious food and fantastic wine that flowed frequently during the course of our discourse.  Our meetings were always intended to talk about our film projected, but they usually ended up in Emer and I, chins resting on hands, doe eyed and fascinated by the enigma that is Robert Segarini.  Bob is not only a fountain of information, but an endless supply of stories, memories, and intriguing anecdotes about nearly everything and everyone a music nut like me or a movie buff like Emer had ever heard of.  We were entertained, we were enthralled, and we were in, hook, line and sinker.

One of my favourite things to do with Bob is sit in a bar that’s playing music, and ask him to tell a story about the performers we were hearing.  It generally goes like this:

“Highway to Hell” by AC/DC – Bob:  “Well, there was that time I was in a bar and Bon Scott spilled his drink on me…”

“Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones – Bob:  “Ron Wood owes me 50 bucks for a chunk of hash…”

“Purple Haze” by Jimi Hendrix – Bob:  “Got high with him once in a van parked behind the Fillmore…rolled the worst joint I ever smoked…”

And so on.

His columns are an absolute playground of wonderful stories.  I look forward to my lunch break on Mondays, because that’s the time that I’ve now dedicated to reading his latest piece and catching up with the ones I’d missed.

While Bob is definitely a wealth of knowledge of classic rock and other “past” music, his impeccable taste and forward thinking make him an amazing source for new music, especially of the Indie variety.  A lover of music now and forever, Bob is always on the hunt for fresh and new material, and loves to share what he finds with like minded people.  If it wasn’t for Bob I would never have heard of Rival Sons (Rival Sons singer Jay Buchanan and Bob), or X-prime, or any number of other bands that I now rave about to other people.

Not only am I extremely fortunate to have met and become friends with Bob, I am incredibly grateful for the endless and blush-inducing praise and support he has given me.  His glowing introductions to his endless throng of friends and associates in our little industry have made me blurt “aw shucks” time and time again.

I was thrilled and honoured when Bob asked me to contribute to “Don’t Believe a Word I Say” and I still smile when he tells me he liked, or better yet LOVED my latest column.  It is high praise coming from Bob, and his praise is not given lightly. Bob and the gang at Cherry Cola’s for the Wacker Reunion.

So thank you Nicole Hughes for that first introduction.  And thank you Bob for being a great editor, a great mentor and most of all a great friend.  Happy Birthday, and looking forward to celebrating with you tonight (at the Monarch Pub at the Delta Chelsea Hotel in Downtown Toronto – come join us!)

Until next time,



Nadia’s column appears every Tuesday

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Nadia Elkharadly is a Toronto based writer with a serious addiction to music. Corporate drone by day, renegade rocker by night, writing is her creative outlet.  Nadia writes for the Examiner (.com) on live music in Toronto and Indie Music in Canada.  She has never been in a band but plays an awesome air guitar and also the tambourine.  Check in every Tuesday for musings about music, love, life and whatever else that comes to mind.

3 Responses to “Nadia Elkharadly: How I met Bob and other Funny Moments”

  1. Wonderfully written Nadia! Happy birthday Bob! xo

  2. “With wisdom comes knowledge, with knowledge comes understanding, with understanding comes greatness.” Yea that would sum up how I feel about my cousin Robert. When I was growing up I adored my cousin. He was my all time favorite person as a child and still is. When my parents would tell my sister and I to get in the car because we were going to Aunt Merc & Uncle Johnny’s house, I’d be the first one in the car. Filled with excitement & enthusiastic for the ride ahead, I’d yell out from the backseat window, ” Come on let’s go!”
    One would think I was wired up on sugar the way I bounced around the backseat of our car,constantly asking my dad, “Are we there yet?” having only been two blocks away from our house. One would have to understand why going to Aunt Merc & Uncle Johnny’s house was so exciting for me? Going to their house meant seeing my cousin “Bobby.”
    Each time we would pull into Stockton my dad would ask, ” Do you know where we are at D.J.? I’d wake up from having crashed asleep, rub my eyes, look around and scream with excitement, and shout, ” Bobby’s house!” Mind you we were still a few blocks away but I knew the way to “Bobby’s house.”
    As my dad pulled up to their house, I once again I would be bouncing around the back-seat like a wild child, little did they know I was only preparing for when I got older, the wild child! Once there, I fly out of the car, run up to the house, give my Godmother ( Bob’s mom was my Godmother) a big hug and kiss and before I even asked, would say with a smile,” Yes Bobby’s home. He’s in his room & away I would fly through the house.
    I’d stand outside his bedroom door, knock and than wait with anticipation, to hear those to simple words, ” Come in!” I’d open the door and there my cousin would be, shoulder length black hair, bell-bottom jeans and a t-shirt, sitting on his bed, looking through his record albums. He would look up, see it was me, put whatever was in his hands down and I’d run up to him and he would pick me up, give me a hug and kiss and ask me how I was.
    This was my little piece of Heaven for a time. No parents, no sister, no-one but my cousin and I. He always let me look through his record collections and pick something out to listen to. He was my idol, my hero, my world for a time. My cousin never made me feel like a pesky little kid, never once told me get outta here, never made me feel as if I was in the way. He always showed me love and concern.
    I think maybe he was that way because he knew inside, in his heart, how I felt and knew I needed that extra bit of love and attention. You see, I was adopted and for me that was a very hard time for me. My new family was Italian but I wasn’t. Everyone looked like someone else in the family but me. I didn’t look like anyone. I felt alone, isolated, and yet when I was with my cousin, I felt like I was on top of the world.
    After a time, he would look at me and ask,” You ready?” I’d say yeap and he’d pick me up, put me on his shoulders, walk me through the house, walk outside to the backyard and put me in my favorite tree. His mom’s fig tree! This was our routine. I’d find my spot in the tree, he would ask if I was set, I’d reply and he would tell me, ” One day when you’r big enough I’ll teach you how to climb up there, until than, don’t eat all the fig’s. Leave a couple for me!” And away he would walk.
    I learned a lot from my cousin. He gave me strength when I was weak, he brighten my world when I thought it was grey. I could be me when I was with him. He gave me love and acceptance, just like his mom. Yes my cousin Bobby ( Robert) was and still is, my heart.
    I love you cousin. Thank-you for some of the most wonderful memories. Thank-you for loving that tiny little brat. Thank-you for your wisdom. Happy Birthday! Donna

  3. I could never get away with anything that mushy, Nadia. Bob would have me arrested. But I surely understand the sentiment. He is a unique human being and one I trust (and I don’t trust all that many these days). Well done, Nadia. And I’ll be drinking a beer here, Bob. Not for your birthday, but at least it’s a beer, eh?

    (This message sponsored by Oskar Blues, makers of fine spirits in a can including G’Night ale, Dale’s Pale Ale and otheraward winning brews.) Slurp. Burp!

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