Steamy and wet Ottawa

July 8

I am in Ottawa, my week as an international Rock babe superstar continues. The weather continues more than hot, really hot, really really hot. I need a ticket to the show, and a way to get to the show, so I take off out of my lovely hotel room, and walk thru the market area. It is less lively in the heat of the day, the fresh fruits and vegetables wilting in the heat. I duck into the Rideau Center to get some relief, and come across the kiosk selling day tickets, and also the OC transo center, and learn my bus route. Walkeing back, it is a 15 minute slow stroll to my hotel. I spend the rest of the mid day contemplating what to carry to the show. I had my chair, and a blanket, but decided against the rain slicker, hat and umbrella, and refillable bottle, thinking packing light was a good idea. I did not pack light, in bringing all these items all this way, but I ditched them today. Wrong decision.

So, after packing light, I take off on my stroll thru the market again. I am the only on on my bus with a chair, and I start to rethink my decision. I am left off the bus at a stop, next to a desolate open space of urban renewal, or so the sign says, but there are piles of used concrete, and weeds all around. I Walk towards the venue, and I begin to melt in the fierce sun, the air more heavy with each step, not a breath of wind, the walk was ablout a half mile, to the main gate. No one around at all. I see one lady sitting over to the side, I ask if this is the line, turns out she is a local, who attends every show every year, and prides herself on being first. I had been told at the kiosk that the doors open at 4:30, but this lady assures me that they will open at a bit after 5. It is now 3. Hot, unrelenting sun, estimated temperature 35C. I had seen the stage set up, in a familiar pattern, and then a familiar sound, albeit a bit sharp toned and lackluster, lacking vocals began. A bit odd, hearing a song called The voice, without the Voice, but he did get out a few verses, and then it was over.

We continued to wait. Finally at 5:15 we were inspected, and let in. A short jog, and I set up in front of a fence, a few feet from a 5 foot high stage. The Warm up act did a 2 hour sound check, I politely suggested to myself that no amount of sound check would improve her sound, but talent might. Finally met up with the two other of the fans there, and wandered about the grounds. Also appearing that night were Renaissanse with Annie Haslam, at the same time as the Moodies, who planned that? And then Steve Hackett, and the B52’s, cool, and the Bacon Brothers. Hot, I am hot, dirty, sticky, and there is a large looming grey cloud overheard, talking to Someone Else I ran into, who voiced concern about the Band’s electronics, I was concerned that I would be soaked thru. These things happen. The clouds opened up at 7:30, the crew and roadies covering the Farfisa, and Alan’s keyboards with large plastic sheets, I huddled under the corner of a shared slicker, and someone elses umbrella, which tipped, and soaked me a bit more, if possible. I would have done almost anything to have been wrapped in plastic and duct tape with the equipment. I think that I would only get that treatment if I were also packed into crates and trucked from show to show. Since I pack and ship myself, I was also left on my own in the rain.

The clouds parted and the Band went on at 3 minutes before 8, a rare treat, as they had to be done before 9:30, so we knew it would be both an abbreviated and non intermission show. At least me and the Band did.

The Brown Gibson came out to play tonight. I had a bit of trouble arising out of my swoopy chair, using the fence to pull myself up after each song. My sore knee also complaining. They were in good voice, and played beautifully all night, a good effort, too bad that some people do not appreciate hard work. The man behind me was having a reunion with friends, showing off pictures of his girlfriend, eliciting a few dark eyed stares from the blond fellow on the stage. It go warmer after the rain, and being soaked thru did nothing for me, in fact, I learned that my shirt was a bit, well, I made interesting undergarment choices after doing a hand wash in my room, and I am sorry, it was not planned. Et porquoi pas? I have been making a spectacle of myself for years, why not continue? The curly headed one got curlier as the night wore on, the lights on the stage were mercifully less than usual, and it was daylight for most of the show, or as much daylight one can have with rain clouds around, and even with that, there was moisture glistening on everyone on the stage, drippage in some places, I worried about them, in this heavy almost fetid air, as the rare breezes the rain brought faded.
My hair even curled, and I do not have curly hair.

The show was a bit flawed, but in a nice way, they played beautifully, but the extra twiddly bits were missing. Mister Curly and his strut over to the girls in those black Zorro Jeans, Love those, and my view, has been having a bit of trouble getting back to his Mike after the “WHOO” in Singer, leaving the blond one to solos on the next line “How can we understand?” And the best wrong lyric of the night was during NIWS, “Snazing at people” You can snaze at me anytime sweetie, I still love you.

A few winks and smiles, and a nice wave from the blond at the end, but a rushed concert, the old fellow mentioned 69, Viagra and carbon dating, no one told us it was lovely to see us and welcome, but we were told to keep smiling at the end. It was not a concert you wanted to see go on forever, people looked spent, and I can imagine what they thought of me, a glance in the mirror later scared me, who was this tangled spangled mangled and spagetti haired old lady in the stretched out shirt and wet skirt?
The heck with it.


The skipped songs?

The day never came, there was no leaning on anyone, there was no other side of life, and no drifting of anything, wood or not.

The croud was appreciative, when not takling about themselves. I think when you pay a lot of money, you behave better, a casual atmosphere encourages casual behavior.

The facility was great, they offered free water spigots to refill your bottles, to discourage disposal and waste, and all plastics sold there were corn bases, and compostable, and recycle bins were all over the place.

All in all, Jazz fest in Montreal was sleek and sophisticated, and Bluesfest in Ottawa was fun, and both were not to be missed, I will remember them, and try to get back again some day, when my time is not occupied with the demands of being an international rock chick fan for a who are they anyway?