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The week before this gig, Nash had the flu. There was a good chance both gigs this weekend would be cancelled. Nash decided to cancel the Friday gig in Peterborough so he would have the strength to do Ottawa. Doing both gigs was out of the question, and the club in Ottawa had invested a lot of time and money in advertising. It would also be the first Nash gig in Ottawa in over twelve years. I'm going to miss seeing my pals in Peterborough, but I've never been to the Nation's Capital before. I hear they've got some mighty huge lawns where important things happen. Nothing more important than a dump. This is the home of Tom Green, and Nash is thinking of taking a photo of me dropping a huge one on Parliament Hill with the flag rising above my head in the background. We'll send it to Tom if it happens. Ottawa is so far off the beaten path it's a miracle anyone bothers to perform there. Once in Ottawa, there is nowhere else to go except turn around and go home. Nash is prefers the string of gigs on the 401, the QEW and surrounding areas, all within two hours of home. Ottawa is a dead end. Even the highway is named for the dead. The Canadian forefathers decided that in order to keep the Americans from ever invading Canada again, or ever being interested in Canadian affairs, they would put the centre of Canadian government in a hostile climate, remove it from any mass cultural influence and make it depressingly boring to reach. All of which defines politicians in general. We stop along the way to pick up Nash's friend Ron, who will be helping with the set up and driving. Ron is also a musician, and he and Nash talk about gear and the music biz while I crash out on the back seat. It takes five hours to get to Ottawa from Toronto, and the last hour is spent driving on a newly-widened, 4-laned blacktop called The Memorial Highway. It is dedicated to the memory of War Veterans, living or mostly dead. There are no gas stations and no signs of civilization by the roadside. There are no long-established homestead farms or any "sights of interest". Nothing but trees and swamp for 100 kilometres. It's like having the ugliest gravestone in the ugliest part of the cemetary. Beyond this, lies Ottawa. The War Vets deserve better, let alone the living who have to drive on this highway to the beyond. Call it "Never Cry Moose Express" or "The Alan Thickeway". Give the War Vets a well-used roadway in Toronto if you want to remind the living of the sacrifices of the dead. The club we're working is called Zaphod Beeblebrox2. It begs the question, what the hell is a "Beeblebrox" and why are there two of them? Couldn't they think of a better name? Nash informs me that before my time, there was a popular book and TV series called The Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy, and Zaphod was this guy in another galaxy who helped design the planet Earth for the mice. Zaphod liked doing the fiddly bits, so he specialized in fijords. Norway was one of his creations. However, he never owned a bar and if he had, he probably would have called it "Moe's" for easier conversation on planet Earth. The owners of this establishment do have another bar called Zaphod Beeblebrox 1, and not wanting to make life any simpler for their new patrons, decided that an evil twin was better than a fresh new-born. This follows the beaurocratic human logic that pervades Ottawa, don't fuck with a bad thing. The load-in is up three flights of stairs. There are helpers to carry the equipment up the stairs, and it takes a while. Nash comments that none of the gigs in Ottawa are ever on the groung floor. Is this some kind of city ordinance? Nash has played at Barrymore's next door many times, and it too is up a flight of stairs. Nash is going to start to refuse gigs that are not at ground level. By the end of the night, the helpers all seem to disappear or are too wasted to be trusted carrying valuable equipment down the stairs. The club itself is well laid out, with comfy sofas for me to curl up on while Nash and Ron set up the stage. The dressing room is situated at the rear of the stage so my job of security will be easy tonight. Before the show, Ron and Nash take me out for the ritual dump 'n doob. We go across the street to a parking lot where I do my usual, when all of a sudden Sirhan Sirhan comes running out of the pay booth screaming in some middle-eastern tongue that I had desecrated his parking lot like a caravan of camels. Expecting to be skinned and roasted in a clay oven (approximately 6 hours, basted occasionally in a savoury garlic sauce), I got the hell out of there while Nash and Ron negotiated to pick up the dung and hand over two goats. What a crazy city. The show starts early at 9 pm. The club likes to present the show as a "concert" and then have dance music at 11:30 pm. There is a good crowd of Nash die-hards. The new material is well received and both sets go down very well. Ron is out amongst the crowd selling CD's between sets and before you know it, they're all gone. This is the first time that Nash has sold out of product at a gig. There are a few disappointed customers who want the CD but hopefully they'll drop a line to Cut-Throat. After the performance, Ron begins the tear-down while Nash meets some old faces. The dance music is now playing, and typically, the DJ is trying to be louder than Nash was on stage. The bass frequencies are so disturbing that Nash has to go out into the back hallway to talk to people and relax. What a racket to listen to after an evening of Thrash! We have a long drive back to Ron's place, so there is little socializing at the end of the night. With this throbbing dance thud, I wouldn't be able to hear anyone say "Digger wanna frenchfry?" anyway. I had been out visiting the staff at the beginning of the night and met Matt, the sound tech, Simon the lighting tech and Angel the assistant manager. Life was much more relaxed before disco. For Nash, this gig is weird. The venue is a dance club up three flights of stairs, the city is a drag to get to, but the audience is fantastic and will go anywhere Nash plays. They are so receptive and appreciative. It would be great to find a venue where the University kids hang out and the older fans would go as well. If Nash could introduce the younger crowd to the enthusiasm of the older crowd,it would be magic. Until then Ottawa, "So long, and thanks for all the fish". Digger |
