I’ve been reminded that things always happen in threes….the cold from hell has felled me, issues with club bookings and now my f**cking roof needs to be replaced!!!! Actually there’s a fourth, a notice from CRA tells me I owe them a whopping $15.43. I’m finding it difficult to think coherently, my eyes hurt, I’m hacking up a lung, I actually feel like napping and I have to be in London on Friday to drive a pace car in a cancer run. Rant over….let the column begin.
Another week, another childhood music idol walks among the immortal choir. No sooner had we hosed off the glitter and put away our vinyl copies of David Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust” we learned that Eagles founder Glenn Frey had passed from complications related to his dependence on medication to control severe rheumatoid arthritis and acute colitis.
Toronto was a different place in the late 1970’s and early eighties. Although it’s easy to look back with rose coloured glasses, it was, in fact, a watershed time for Toronto musicians. Everywhere you turned, you were surrounded by outstanding music, made by dedicated and very talented players, who enjoyed the freedom to create their art, and make a living at the same time.
Cam Carpenter’s recent DBAWIS column on Toronto venues reminded me of how impressive the city’s music scene was back in the day. In the late 1970’s and early ‘80’s, the city was awash not only in great clubs, but in terrific musicians working six or even seven days a week, entertaining delighted, enthusiastic crowds.
You couldn’t toss a rock without hitting a working musician back then. We were everywhere, making a decent living, doing what we loved to do. Demand for live music was high, and most of us tried our damndest to rise to the listener’s expectations.
When I first moved to Canada I was drawn to the music coming out of Montreal. We (The Wackers) had gone there in the first place to record the follow up to our first album, Wackering Heights as a kind of reward for making such a good debut LP. Our producer, the legendary Gary Usher, had promised to take us somewhere exotic to do the next record if the first either sold a pant-load, or the record was really good. The record was really good. Although I had played Vancouver at various times in different bands, Montreal was a mystery to me. Usher told me, “You’ll love it! They all speak French!” Wow, I thought, we’re going to Europe. Then I looked Montreal up in our huge Rand McNally World Atlas. Oh. We’re going to Canada. Fuck!
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 