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Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Opening lines

Help me out here. My whole life, I’ve been one anecdote short of a good conversation starter.

I used to go to a lot more concerts than I do now (thanks a lot, two small children!) One of the things I really used to enjoy was listening for the concert’s opening line.

Here’s the scene:

You got your tickets weeks ago. Tonight, you arrived early, and have been waiting in a hot, pressing crowd for ages. Finally, the lights dim. The band walks on stage and takes up their instruments. As the cheering dies down, the lead singer steps to the mic, leans forward, and says…

Well, I have two great examples, but I need a third. Here are my two:

1) New Model Army, at The Trasheteria in Guelph, Ont., 1993.

NMA is one of those energy bands, even better live than on disc. Their music is raw and melodic, politically edgy, angry and sad both.

I drove to Guelph to catch their show with a couple of friends from Trent University. The Trash was (is?) a dark, hole-in-the-wall sort of affair, with a giant fake lizard affixed to the black ceiling. We waited for at least an hour in the middle of the crowded room, sliding into a good spot behind the mixing board.

The roadie who manned it was wearing the band’s Thunder & Consolation tour shirt. Staring at his back, we read off the names of the previous stops on the tour: Frankfurt, Berlin, Amsterdam, Paris, London, New York, Chicago… we got lucky to catch them here.

Finally the band takes the stage. Lead singer Justin Sullivan, who sometimes goes by the name Slade the Leveler, is not a pretty man. Lank hair, tattoos and jewelry, scowling eyes, English teeth.

He straps on his guitar, steps the mic, and surveys the crowd. Pauses. Obviously he’s thinking of the concert shirt locations too, because he says only this (in his working-class English accent) before launching into a barrage of guitar distortion:

"Guelph...... at last!"

2) Art Bergmann, at Call The Office in London, Ont., 1995

Art Bergmann is no pretty boy himself.

I have a thing for rock ‘n rollers who really look like they’ve earned a rock ‘n roll living, and Art has cred to spare.

From his early days with the K-Tels and the Young Canadians to his later solo years, Art lived hard. He was a drunk of the Shane MacGowan school and has the same hard-bitten look and sharp eyes of NMA's Sullivan.

The tour I saw was for the What Fresh Hell Is This? disc (his "I've just kicked heroin" album).

My J-school buddy Mike (now at the Globe) dragged me out to see Art at Call The Office – a good place to see bands, though it was decidedly better-heeled than the Trash; the lights were bright, the crowd orderly.

Except for up on stage. Somehow, Bergmann has managed to already take exception to someone near the front row before the show even started. Without warning, and without his band, Art stumbles up to the mic and points and accusatory finger.

Art is not a young man, and he’s not in good shape, but he’s ready to ditch the concert and start a fight. As his band scrambles to get the music playing and restrain their singer, Bergmann turns to the crowd and says:

"If buddy wants to fucking go, I’m fucking ready!"


Priceless! But if I had a third anecdote, it’d somehow feel like a legit topic instead of two mildly interesting memories.

So, until I get back out there on the scene, tell me yours. Remember any good concert opening lines? Witty banter between songs? Highlight-reel moments? I want to hear them!

2 Comments:

At 9/08/2006 10:30:41 PM, Anonymous said...

Hey Paul, Dave here. Interesting topic. I also have a Bergmann example, although not as funny and profane as yours.

I saw him on a later tour at The Generator, a run-down place in west-end Toronto. No band behind and the opening act was Len, a bunch of amateurish kids who at that point hadn't yet written their hit Steal My Sunshine. They played a bunch of mostly crappy songs. When Art finally ambled on stage, he saluted them with his beer and said, "Len -- my new favourite band." Later (and this off-topic from your post) a crazy Ramones-looking chick who kept yelling "Hamilton sucks!" wandered up to Art mid-song and asked him to sign her beer. He stopped, looked at her, shrugged and said, "I normally do this after the show" but signed and then continued on, ragged, drunken and quite great.

 
At 9/12/2006 12:01:58 AM, Paul Gorbould said...

Hi Dave, glad you stopped by! And I'm glad others have similar Bergmannesque memories - your anecdote is better than mine; I had sort of figured and hoped there would be great ones out there.

My new favourite is this insane rant:
http://www.productofneglect.com/rant20.html

Sign my beer? Ouch!

 

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