Full Metal Jacket

Made from denim, the "jean jacket" was the uniform of rockers (who couldn't afford leather) back in the 70's and 80's. I wore mine conservatively; no giant hand drawn Rush or Led Zeppelin logos or album art on the back panel (I remember a guy in high school who painted an amazing Caress of Steel album cover onto the back of his jacket). Instead, I wore just a handful of my favourite band patches and pins across the chest. Let's see, there was Rush, The Police, Van Halen, AC/DC, and Led Zeppelin... my bands of choice at the time. Some of my favourites looked like this:

I also had a jacket dedicated to Rush, which I wore only to their concerts. It was one of those olive drab army things from the local military surplus store, a style that was popular back in the 80's. The jacket is long gone, but I've kept every one of the buttons, pins, and embroidered patches that used to adorn the jacket. There are stories behind many of those collectibles, how I hunted them down and sometimes happened upon them unexpectedly. And here's what they look like:

There are a couple of non-jacket items in there: the red Toronto Airport luggage tag bearing the YYZ code that inspired the song of the same name; and the key ring-fob to the right of the luggage tag. 

Oh, and the seemingly unrelated Eraserhead movie button to the left of the red tag.... well, real Rush fans will know the connection there. Alex Lifeson wore that same button onstage back in the 80's. So now you know.

Funny how the wearing of patches and buttons dwindled in the 90's but then seemed to resurface in the 2000's. Or maybe they were always there but I simply didn't notice. No, I'm pretty sure I'm right about this. A fashion cycle, maybe? I now see young people wearing buttons and occasionally a patch or two. It seems there's a more minimalist approach now, whereas back in the day, you'd see jackets absolutely covered in buttons and patches. It was often pretty gaudy, but hey, especially for metal-heads, putting your band loyalty on display was tantamount. 

From Mop Top to Hippie Hair

Summer 1981. Beatlemania was in full swing. Wait, you say, didn't that happen about twenty years earlier? Well, yes, the real Beatlemania hit the North American shores in 1964 and drove legions of girls to hysterical fits for a couple of years. But the musical stage show, a tribute to the Fab Four, originally a Broadway production, went on tour from 1979 to 1984. And I caught a show midway through this amazing condensed recreation of the careers of the lads from Liverpool.

I was seventeen years old at the time, and though I'd travelled to The Big Smoke - AKA Toronto, Canada - a few times with family and friends, this was my first solo trip from small town (more like small city, with a population back then of about 21,000) to massive metropolis. It was a little intimidating taking to the streets of Cabbage Town (so many nicknames for T.O. - oops, there's another one) by myself, but I had a general idea of the layout of the downtown core. The streets are nicely laid out in a grid pattern so that it's hard to lose your bearings and get lost. Or at least get lost for very long. I think I did a little confused zig-zagging that day as I tried to locate the O'Keefe Centre but it all worked out in the end. And once inside the venue, all worries dissipated.

My friends in early high school weren't sophisticated enough to know anything about the legendary Beatles, who called it quits in 1970, when I was still playing with trucks in the sandbox. No clue about music back then. Anyway, I only knew one person at that time who would have enjoyed Beatlemania as much as me, and he wasn't even available that day. Ah, crumb!

So intrepidly I ventured out from the backwoods into the seething city streets. It was all pretty exciting, nervousness aside. And then the adrenaline surged again when the curtain went up on that special evening, and the sights and sounds of the 60's washed over me for a couple of hours. The musicians onstage struck similar enough appearances to the real Beatles that I really felt like I was in the presence of rock'n'roll royalty. The passing of time and the growth of the group was aided by frequent costume changes. From the skinny suits and mop tops to beards and bell-bottoms, all of the phases of the Beatles' career were brought to life once again. Images from that magical mystery decade were projected behind the band, loaning context to the music through establishing shots and funky graphics of major social, political, cultural, and economic events of that era. Anything newsworthy - it was tied into the performance to create the ultimate multimedia show.

My Beatlemania T-shirt is long gone, but the souvenir program lives on (pictured below).

From She Loves You to Let It Be, the vast catalogue of influential Beatles hits transported me to another time and another place. It was a little sad when the show finished. I felt like it could have gone on for hours more, working through the dozens more songs that changed a generation.

Axe Man

When I was in my early teens, I took it into my head that learning to play guitar would be good for me. Perhaps to increase my coolness, and thus my popularity, with both the guys and the girls. That didn't really pan out, since I eventually became a bit of a guitar nerd hanging out with like-minded string-benders, talking about fuzz boxes and neck action... those are guitar terms, by the way. Cough.

It was in my even younger years when I first spotted Beatles movies and the Monkees show on TV when the guitar made its first impression on me. I think it's like that for just about every boy as he moves beyond comic books and puppet shows. Music is the next logical step. The great twang of Last Train to Clarksville and the catchy riff of Day Tripper served to inspire me on the instrument. Now mind you, the first guitar I got to play was one abandoned by my mother, who still swears that that was a quality instrument. Hey, even back then I knew it was a piece of crap, but at least it had become my piece of crap for the duration of my self-teachings. It was an unforgiving and likely hastily-assembled acoustic, surely slapped together on an assembly line by Chinese children and housewives. Hey, the sticker I saw inside the soundhole read "Made in China". So don't judge me!

 I bought a handful of books on beginner, and not so beginner, guitar. I didn't exactly track my progress to see how quickly I was picking things up, but there was marked improvement. Probably over the course of a few years, I'd learned to read sheet music not too terribly, but I still struggled to speed up my playing with those more difficult pieces. The books never had anything better than folk and gospel songs, but that was about to change. I reconnected with a childhood friend, who just happened to be a bit of a guitar wiz. Even though he could have sat me down and schooled me further on theory, he instead made my homework fun by showing me how to listen to music and learn to play by ear. That was my most valuable set of lessons ever. Now I could simply play records and tapes, and copy the chords and licks on my guitar. 

What made that early training even better was that my buddy owned a beautiful - but heavy - Gibson Les Paul. And he had a massive Traynor amplifier. Man, I felt like a guitar god when he let me jam on that thing. He had a little drum kit that he'd bash on while I'd push myself through some actual rock songs, the first of which was Rush's In The End. Powerful chords and simple, short riffs helped build my confidence and gave me fuel to practise more and more at home, even if that practise was to be on my stiff, finger-slashing acoustic. 

Time to become cooler.

One day another friend at school offered me his old electric guitar for a nominal fee. What was it... fifty bucks, I think? I didn't know much about guitars at the time but even this truly ancient Kent 12-string looked like a jewel to me. Its tone was kind of listless on first play, but I learned the magic of the distortion and flanger effects pedals (on my jamming buddy's set-up) in conjunction with a killer amp. I set the guitar up as a six-string since this would be easier (not to mention cheaper) for a neophyte like me. 

The one problem with all of this was that I knew my parents could never find out I had this electric guitar. Solution? Easy.... hide it in my closet, behind my clothes. That worked for a while, but after my parents' annual Homeland Security inspection of my room, I was hauled into the interrogation centre for some serious de-briefing. Dad would never understand any of this; I knew that from day one... he hated music - period. Correction: I recall him listening to some bagpipe strangulation techniques on a tape player one day. Does that count? Regardless, he was not a fan. "Turn down that damned jungle music!" was his most uttered line during my teen years. 

In the end, there was nothing to be done. I'd bought the guitar and I guess it was decided by the local authorities that I could keep the device as long as it never interfered with their quiet time. Luckily, my cheap, worn-out little amp (also courtesy of my mentor friend) had a headphone jack so that I could practise privately without disturbing the man upstairs (I had a basement bedroom as a teenager). 

Naturally, Smoke on the Water (or part of it, anyway) became a part of my repertoire. This was back before that song became a cliché for guitar beginners. I was on my way. There's more to this story, but this is a convenient place to wrap up part one. Stay tuned for more later.

Here's that crazy Kent guitar, which now lives in my brother's storage area across the country from me. There's a great story behind this guitar now: when I moved out of my parent's house, I left behind the creaky China acoustic and sold the Kent electric to a friend of my brother. That fellow trucked that guitar around the world, even settling in Japan for a spell. The guy eventually handed the guitar over to my brother, who then informed me that it was in his possession. I'm sure there was a gleam in my eyes when I heard that. I doubt I'll ever see the Kent again, but it's not impossible. I don't know if I even care to see, own, or play it again, but it was charming in its own primitive way back then. But if the guitar ever did come back to me, maybe I could finally throw twelve strings on it and see what it can really do!

Big chunky pickups, a beast of a bridge, and slider pickup selector switches

Teenage Bed-Head

Wow, look at those freaks!

It was in my second year of  high school - 1979/80, I believe, that Frankie Venom brought his punk rock act to the stage of our gymnasium. Teenage Head hailed from Hamilton, Ontario, less than a day's drive from my hometown, forming in '75 and carrying on in various incarnations for many years, with varying degrees of success. The songs the band played at this gig were all great fun and happened to be the first punk-ish rock I'd ever heard. Rock radio beamed into my neck of the woods focused on arena rock for the most part, so non-mainstream bands nearly never got airplay. 

The overall show is pretty much gone from my memory, but the odd detail remains. For instance, Head's regular guitarist Gordon Lewis was out sick at the time, and Toronto record producer, songwriter, and musician David Bendeth took over axe duties for that evening. I'd heard of Bendeth before; his name came up on Q107 radio's music news now and then; he must have had a band in the metropolitan area at the time. Apparently he's gone on to become a multi-platinum award-winning record producer with a huge list of credits. Look 'em up. Oh, and he happened to be the dude who did the mixing on Teenage Head's new album. So....

But back to the concert: the fairly reserved-looking Bendeth performed with flair, an interesting contrast to Head's regular line-up of scruffy punks. Venom snarled and sneered, hurling himself about to the gnashing guitars. The band was touring in support of their Frantic City album (which went gold in Canada!), so we were treated to rowdy new hits like Let's Shake, Infected, and Disgusteen. Even though I no longer own any of Head's music, those particular songs are still old favourites that I would happily stage dive to. And I am certain that Picture My Face, off the debut Head album, was part of the set that night. 

Years ago, I had a 2-fer cassette tape with both Frantic City and its follow-up Some Kinda Fun on it. A fun raucous bunch of tunes, but sadly, the tape disintegrated decades later. My only remaining souvenir from that high school gig is the ticket stub pictured below. Who knew it would ever come in handy again?

Scorpions Inflict Stinging Solos

These bad boys are running a bit wild....

The German metal meisters Scorpions came to town on a hot summer day back in '84. I was home from college and had to talk a friend into driving us down to Toronto for the show. I had to push a bit for he just wasn't into metal the way I was. None of my friends were, really. But I succeeded in securing tickets and a ride for the big day. He showed up on his motorcycle on the morning of the concert. That didn't impress my parents. I wasn't so enamoured either since I'd never been on a bike before, and I was terrified that I was going to fall off the back as I tried to hang on for dear life as we tore through city streets to John's place. Once there, my heartrate calmed down, and we traded motorbike for his mom's car. Whew.

The 80's heavy metal scene was all about craziness, and the Scorpions' 1984 Rock and Roll Hurricane tour definitely fit that bill. But wait, this wasn't just another concert - this was a mammoth, day-long, outdoor metal fest, featuring some of the most insane and popular bands of that time. The Scorpions' album Love At First Sting hit the stores that springtime, and we were ready for a big show that summer. 

It was a hot weekday (I skipped work, much to the annoyance of my dad) in Toronto, Canada when fans clad in leather, denim, and spandex (!) converged on Exhibition Stadium. A massive stage filled a good portion of the football field. Lots of room for the Scorps to run laps. The show started in the afternoon. 

The first act was Canada's Kickaxe... I can still picture the lead singer running around barefoot, which he was known to do. Why did he do that? Kickaxe entertained us with their hit Heavy Metal Shuffle and an assortment of their other goofy, fun hard rock. Next up was hairband Helix, who had made a splash with recent hits Heavy Metal Love and Rock You. They turned up the volume a little further and got the crowd going. "Gimme an R...!" 

When Quiet Riot hit the stage, the skies were darkening, helping to cool off the hundreds of sweaty, fist-pumping metalheads. We had seats in the stands, shaded from the blistering sun, and we enjoyed a perfect centre-stage view as the lightshow got into gear. DuBrow and company played hits like Cum on Feel the Noize and Mama Weer All Crazee Now. Quiet Riot was riding a huge wave of success after, in 1983, becoming the first heavy metal band to have a top 5 hit song and a #1 album in the same week. 

Next up - the headliners, the Scorpions. These near-legendary hard rock/metal masters were high on my list of favourite artists at the time. Right up there with Rush, Iron Maiden, and Judas Priest. The Scorps did not disappoint; in fact, their performance that night still ranks among the best rock concerts I've ever seen. The sheer energy, musicianship, showmanship, their light and effects show... it was all done with precision and volume. A wild, loud rocking good time. The drum riser really rose - up high! Ramps and platforms everywhere allowed singer Klaus Meine and his manic guitarists to run all over the stage while gnashing out riffs and crushing chords. And of course, the Scorpions were all about wicked guitar solos, which Schenker and Jabs delivered with maximum intensity. 

We stomped, clapped, cheered, (sort of) sang, and punched the air to tunes like Rock You Like a Hurricane, Lovedrive, Animal Magnetism, and Blackout. A visually and aurally stunning concert.

Yes Men

Serious musicians... no smiling allowed

It was in late 1987 that I saw the progressive rock giants Yes for the first time. I wish I'd witnessed one of their legendary theatrical masterpieces back in the 70's or even earlier 80's. Ah well, that time machine hasn't come to be yet. This incarnation of the band was what I like to call The Trevor Rabin Band. Even though guitarist/singer Rabin was an extremely talented artist, I believe he took over and changed Yes just a bit too much. This Yes's 1983 album 90125 was a stroke of pop-rock genius, melding melodic strokes with masterful technicality. Rabin had a lot to do with that, but at the expense of the subtler and more explorative guitar stylings of ex-axeman Steve Howe (who I have always revered as perhaps the best all-around guitarist ever). But no worries, Howe would enter back into the fold one day.

The album that this concert tour supported, Big Generator, while still carrying the familiar stamp of Mr. Rabin, lacked the Top 10 kick that the previous album packed so heavily - 90125 hit #5, and six of its songs made the top fifty on North American Billboard charts alone. Big Generator only peaked at #15 and its singles Love Will Find A Way and Rhythm of Love reached numbers 1 and 2 respectively... not too much else beyond that.

The real attraction for me was to see some semblance of Yes perform old classics like Roundabout, Wondrous Stories, and I've Seen All Good People. Even with the newer line-up, the band delivered and then some. The Trevor Rabin Band was a tight unit, energetic, and fun to watch. The air was electric when veteran Yes bass master Chris Squire performed his magic; sadly, his talents were on a leash on the newer songs, but he shone brilliantly on early Yes tracks. Tony Kaye was extremely animated on keyboards as he contorted around his very minimalist set-up (compared with studious former piano wizard Rick Wakeman). Though Rabin sang well on recent material, it was when diminutive Jon Anderson stepped forward on vocals that my spine tingled with the thrill of classic Yes music.

I would go on to see Yes in various forms (nearer to the 70's line-up, thankfully) on two more tours, but I'll chat about those experiences another time. I snapped up some merch at that '87 show, though, including the buttons pictured below and a tour T-shirt that I wore until it was rags (I gave it a decent burial).

You Give Music a Bad Name, Mr. Bon Jovi

The year was 1987 and I stood with my friend (and brother-in-law to be) at some ungodly hour of the morning, holding down a spot sort of near the front of the line for Bon Jovi tickets. No, we weren't big fans... not really fans at all - okay, so I had their Slippery When Wet album, big deal! I was doing this for my girlfriend at the time, who was an avid supporter of Bon Jovi, but not enough of one to get up before the crack of dawn and stand in line with me. Grumble grumble.

Anyway, with tickets in hand and some time passed, it was concert night. Glammy rockers Cinderella opened the show; I was indifferent. There might have been one or two of their songs I didn't mind, but they were quickly forgotten. Hell, even Bon Jovi was quickly forgotten. Yes, they penned some catchy tunes (can't beat that funky riff from Livin' on a Prayer, though I hear that same riff in other songs, both older and newer, all the time) that are still sort of fun to revisit, but truth be told, they never made an impression on me. Bon Jovi were lightweights and their popularity, especially among the ladies, seemed based almost entirely upon their looks... or at least those of ringmaster Jon Bon Jovi. Whoop-de-doo.

Anyway, I got that over with and life went back to normal. Until Warrant came to town. Doh!

Late Night With Larry (Gowan)

Back in the 80's here in Canada (perhaps not so much outside of our fair country) the rock sounds of a young man named Gowan ruled the airwaves. Lawrence Gowan, born in Scotland, but a Canadian citizen, enjoyed much commercial success with his albums Strange Animal and Great Dirty World, and to a lesser extent Lost Brotherhood (which featured guitarist Alex Lifeson of Rush fame). But it was Strange Animal that really put Gowan on the map, garnering several Juno Award nominations... and two wins! The title track and A Criminal Mind were huge in '85. The year I actually got to see Larry onstage at Toronto's Diamond Club.


By this time, I not only owned Strange Animal (on untrustworthy audio cassette tape, pictured below) but also Gowan's lesser known eponymous debut album. And Canada's MuchMusic (our answer to the States' MTV) rotation of videos from '85's Strange Animal imprinted Gowan's distinctive look and moves on our youthful minds.

A college buddy (who actually resembled Gowan at the time) and I, both fans of the real Gowan's song-writing, vocals, and piano skills, scraped together our pennies for tickets to see the man perform in concert. This was all very last minute. I recall us tear-assing from Brampton (a Toronto suburb, so to speak) to the downtown core, where we would search for the venue.

Since we relied on public transit to get there and back, we were at the mercy of the subway and bus schedules. And sadly that meant that we had to leave before the concert was over. Gowan put on a mighty fine show while we were there, pounding on the piano keys with theatrical flair and leaping atop the instrument to continue playing from every conceivable vantage point. Pianists aren't usually known for their acrobatics, but this king of the keyboard turned his performance into a sweaty workout. One particularly impressive bit was when Gowan took us on an instrumental journey through the history of music... a little bit of Mozart (I think), something like ragtime, 50's rock'n'roll à la Fats Domino, and right up to modern day. Nervous glances at our watches eventually led to us tearing out of the club and praying as we ran that the subway and buses would get us home before shutting down for the night.

The concert was incomplete for us but what we saw and heard was still entertaining and memorable. Though Gowan's fame waned into the 90's, he did eventually find permanent residency as lead vocalist for 70's rock legend Styx. Not a bad gig, if it keeps you on the radar.

Cassette tapes... a sign of the times

Metal Queen Stalking a Stage Near You

Foxy lady, indeed

Back in the 1980s, there was a young lady who actually provided some fierce competition for all the boys in the hard rock/heavy metal camp. A little history: her name was Karen Greening when she was asked to join a local Belleville, Canada band called Lee Aaron. She adopted that band moniker as her own stage name and in 1982 she released her first album, The Lee Aaron Project (pictured below in the form of my ancient audio cassette tape). That album featured backup musicians from a variety of Toronto area bands: Moxy, Riff Raff, Santers, and even Triumph's Rik Emmett.

Aaron's Metal Queen album of 1984 cemented her status as the leading lady of metal. I was a fan. I saw her perform at Spanky's nightclub in Brampton, Canada right around that time. It was a full house, mostly guys, all crammed as close as possible to the stage. I wonder why. Her good looks aside, the leather-and-furs-clad vixen possessed a powerful voice that brought her some fame and fortune. I don't think this music has aged all that well, though. What little I've heard all these years later sounded pretty cheesy to me. But she made her mark at just the right time.

After the 80's, Lee Aaron failed to register on my radar. She had softened her sound into something more glam-rock than anything else, and I had moved on to heavier waters that included the likes of Metallica and Megadeth. And I even heard a CD of her singing jazz, of all things, several years ago. 

But those good old days are still locked in my memory banks. Good times.

Hot Time in Toronto That Night... with Triumph

Two necks are better than one!

Triumph's Allied Forces tour show in Toronto, 1981, was my very first arena concert, the biggest thing I'd seen besides bands playing in my high school's gym. And it just happened to fall on New Year's Eve, and was probably my most memorable New Year's Eve ever, especially since I was completely sober that night. That sure helps in the memory department.

I was in awe of the masses of people funnelling through the doors of Toronto's Maple Leaf Gardens, and spilling out into their arena seats before the lights went down. There was a strange aroma in the air. Hmmmm. My best friend at the time accompanied me to see Triumph, one of our favourite Canadian bands at the time. The guy sitting next to us (not a friend) was eating pumpkin seeds throughout the concert, and he was nice enough to share them with us. Heh.

My trusty old Stages cassette... this live

album was released a few years later, 

after the studio follow-up Thunder Seven

Toronto-based power trio Triumph was one of those bands that was really big mainly because of the exceptional talents of just one member - at least in my opinion. Rik Emmett, guitar hero, was who we were really there to see. Emmett was a great vocalist (singing AND performing his guitar magic), songwriter, and showman. The light show blew me away. The big BIG sound captivated me. Rik raced around the stage like a maniac, all the while pumping out his exciting brand of guitar rock. And we all went nuts when he took his extended guitar solo in the midst of the song Rock And Roll Machine. The stage went dark except for a few beams of coloured light aimed directly at Rik, as he played an array of musical pieces, all strung together seamlessly.... from mesmerizing classical guitar to mind-shattering electric soloing and rib-rattling heavy chord riffs. Favourites were Lay It On The Line, Allied Forces, Magic Power, and Hold On.

I had hoped that Rush would be my first big concert, but since that didn't happen, this was the next best thing. Pictured below are some of my souvenirs from that night all those years ago.

Concert souvenirs: tour program, ticket stub

and logo button

Headline: Police Dominate Stadium Concert!

Don't stand so bloody close to me! You're crowding...

One of my favourite bands in my early concert-going days was The Police. After their Ghost In The Machine album was released in 1981, and I heard about the Police Picnic Tour in '82, I knew I had to be there. 

A friend and I got our tickets, then we made up a big banner for the concert. This was among the largest shows I'd ever seen with a turnout of about 45,000! My buddy and I attended the Toronto gig, held at the outdoor Exhibition Stadium on a beautiful, sunny summer day. 

This was pretty much a day-long event, with opening acts The Spoons, Flock of Seagulls, English Beat, Joan Jett, and The Talking Heads. This was all music that I enjoyed at the time, though I knew little about English Beat. A very 80's festival, full of fun and bopping  tunes. 

Naturally, everyone was stoked to see The Police, and when the band finally hit the stage, the crowd went nuts. They energized us even more with their infectious reggae-pop, even jazzing up some songs to make them nearly unrecognizable (other than the lyrics). The Police loved to play with sounds in a live setting and took the liberty of interpreting some of their songs in new and funky ways. They knocked out all the hits like Roxanne, Walking On The Moon, Don't Stand So Close To Me, and new songs like Spirits In The Material World and Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic. 

It was all great rock music, presented with first-class showmanship, Sting inviting the audience to sing along: De Do Do Do De Da Da Da

Police goodies: tour program, ticket stub & buttons!

Victim of a Harlequin Song

Yikes!

Yes, this is how most rock bands looked back in the 70's. Pretty, huh? Maybe not. Especially the Canadian quintet Harlequin, who I had the good fortune to enjoy at a live performance onstage in my high school auditorium. Harlequin played a brand of hard rock that has remained rather timeless, at least to my supposedly sophisticated musical tastes. The band could get heavy and whip up a party mood (Love on the Rocks), yet they could turn on a dime and weave a dark and atmospheric composition (Superstitious Feeling). All with a sophisticated flair and sound. They were, after all, produced by Jack Douglas, who also worked with big names like Aerosmith, Cheap Trick, and Blue Öyster Cult.

I'm hazy as to the details of this gig... it was a hell of a long time ago... but I believe it was in 1982 and I definitely remember loving the music. Love Crimes, Harlequin's second album, was already secure on the charts, and the follow-up One False Move was either imminent or fresh on store shelves. This was among my first ever "concerts", and my first exposure to Harlequin; I was totally on board after the show. Later, I was able to identify their hit songs as they reeled out of the FM radio speakers in the family room, courtesy of the mighty Q107 (whose Toronto signal carried strong and clear all the way to my hometown up in cottage country). Not exactly flush with money, I opted to record a lot of that music off the radio rather than buy a lot of vinyl. That horde of cassette tapes survived for a few decades, but I eventually ditched them, fearing that to attempt to play the tapes would merely shred them to pieces. 

If you can believe it, I actually still have the ticket stub from that high school concert... and a Harlequin guitar pick which was thrown into the audience - and caught by yours truly, both pictured below.

I'm happy to say that I still get a blast listening to Harlequin's greatest hits. So much nostalgia of such an innocent time in my life - early high school. Their smash hit Innocence, still a staple on Canadian rock radio stations, continues to speak to me both melodically and lyrically. That blend of searing guitars and swelling synthesizers holds up amazingly well after all these years. 

Take your pick....

My Big Best Summer with Kim Mitchell

Kim Mitchell entertained me for a good chunk of my life, both as frontman for Max Webster (in concert a few times) and as a solo act (saw him many times). By this time - in 1984, I believe, I had only seen him twice, once with Max and once solo at another hometown nightclub. This evening's gig was in support of his Akimbo Alogo album, which eventually went on to reach platinum sales status.   

We were treated to the new tunes, and many of his Max classics, on that warm summer evening. Mitchell rocked the house down, blasting out his good-time party music for the revelers crammed into the little bar at The First, a rickety club on the outskirts of Orillia, Canada. 

Mitchell's super-tight backup band hit all the right notes, hammering out every song like there was no tomorrow. Especially hot that night was bassist Peter Fredette, who showed off his pipes when he joined in on vocals on several tunes. 

It was especially cool to hear the handful of songs from Kim's first solo effort "Kim Mitchell", a mini-EP that seems to have vanished off the face of the earth. It was never released on CD, but glory day, a few years back, some kind soul digitized his vinyl record and gave a copy to me.  At this show, the crowd went wild for the EP's songs "Kids In Action", "Miss Demeanor", "Big Best Summer", "Tennessee Water", and "Chain of Events". 

New hits like Go For Soda, That's A Man, and Lager And Ale got everyone in the mood for more suds. When Mitchell whipped out some Max Webster riffs, he really lifted the roof off the joint. Here Among The Cats is one of my favourite Max tunes, along with Beyond The Moon, Lip Service, The Party, Gravity, Paradise Skies, and Check. Even though I don't remember details of this evening (I celebrated quite a bit!), I'm positive these classics were on the setlist. 

At another earlier gig (at The Pav in Orillia) I even snagged two of Kim's guitar picks right off his mic stand before leaving that night - really nice souvenirs! The picks and newspaper ad for the show appear below.

What an amazing showman! Mitchell has toured relentlessly for years, honing his musical skills to a "T", not to mention his fun and friendly "drinking buddy" on-stage banter. A working musician through-and-through, Mitchell has definitely earned his stripes as one of Canada's best-loved rockers. 

Within the next year or so, I caught Kim Mitchell yet again, this time at Spanky's, a club in Brampton, Canada. Another terrific show! The "I'd rather go for soda" bottle cap button and the ticket stub pictured below were from that evening. And I saw him again and again and again after moving to Ottawa, still within the province of Mitchell's birth. He loved to give his home province fans plenty of face time, great PR guy that he was.

Souvenirs of the good old days....