I Just Read About That…

SOUNDTRACK: RHEOSTATICS-Double Live (1997).

After mentioning the two live shows that comprise the majority of this disc, I figured I’d mention the disc itself.  Rheostatics are a great and engaging live band: Dave Bidini has wonderful repartee with the audience and Martin Tielli’s live guitar work is amazing. The band sounds tight but not stiff and there are a number of tracks here that are goofy (but not throwaway) like the acoustic version of “Bread, Meat, Peas & Rice” and the weird and wonderful “People’s Republic of Dave.”

The songs that were taken from the two Bathurst Street concerts have been professionally mixed and mastered (of course) so even if you’ve listened to the bootleg concerts, you’re going to hear a different quality (and mix, as boots tend to be recorded from one side, usually missing some aspect).

My only gripe is something that they’d never really be able to accomplish live anyway.  It’s in “King of the Past” which is one of my favorite Rheos songs.  On the album, after the break, there’s an electric violin (or something) that plays a really cool dramatic melody.  But live they never play it like that, they rely on Tielli’s guitar.  The guitar sounds fine, but that majestic string section provides such a great contrast that the live version lacks just a little.

On the other hand, the live version of “Horses” is stunning.  As are “A Midwinter Night’s Dream,” “Palomar,” and “Christopher.”

[READ: February 8, 2011] Tropic of Hockey

I bought this book when I was in Toronto sometime in 2001.  I was pretty excited to get another book by Dave Bidini.  And then I proceeded to not read it for a decade.  Hey, these things happen.

But I have to say in many ways I’m glad I waited this long to read it.  The book was written pre 9/11 and as such it has a kind of sweetness about international travel that I miss now.  And I can appreciate it all a lot better with a decade’s distance from everything.  As of 2011, I know that I never want to go to the UAE, but reading Bidini talk about the UAE circa 1999 it sounds like a really fun place to go.

So anyhow, this book, as the subtitle suggests, is Bidini’s attempt to find hockey in weird places around the globe.  Bidini has gotten tired of the NHL: it is bloated, is it full of obnoxious rock anthems during stoppage and the spirit of the game has been overwhelmed by the Almighty dollar (specifically the American dollar).  And so, he wanted to see if he could find people who played hockey the way he and his pickup team play on the weekends: for the love of hockey.  And he was amazed to find hockey fans in these four unexpected places: Hong Kong, China, The United Arab Emirates and Transylvania.

The book is really three things though: it is the story of hockey in different places, it is a chance for Bidini to play hockey in these places and write about the experience and it is a history of Canadian hockey.

Bidini traveled to those four locations with his hockey gear bag in tow.  The book makes it seem like he just happened upon a lot of tournaments, but I’m sure he (more likely his long-suffering but very supportive wife) had done enough research that he knew these games were going on.  But anyhow, it is written as if he flies into the UAE and happens upon a hockey tourney that is just starting.  Which makes for good writing, I must say.

He marvels at these exotic locations, and can’t believe that people who are not “typical” hockey players (ie not-Canadian or Eastern European) can embrace the game as much as they do.  But he’s also amused (and impressed) at their devotion to the sport and their attempts to create hockey in weird places.  In Hong Kong and China, their rinks are in malls (one of which is jasmine scented and beautiful).  There is a tournament going on and the two rinks in the tournament couldn’t be more different.  One is Olympic-sized while the other is practically a third of the size ; you can shoot from your own blue line.

But regardless of the quality of the rinks, the quality of play is great.  For although these are players in countries that barely know anything about hockey, they play like it is their favorite sport (and for many it is).

Probably the weirdest place was the UAE, with ice hockey played in the middle of the desert (inside, of course).  In 2011, we know a lot about Dubai and the excesses of buildings and nonsense that went on there.  But in 1999, I’m not sure how well-known the extravagance of Dubai was.  Nevertheless, it’s easy to imagine that the first hockey rink there must be a marvel for, as Bidini notes, most people don’t have regular access to water and yet here are people freezing it to skate on it.

I didn’t know that Transylvania would be an unlikely place for hockey, but indeed, the location he goes to features the most fascinating story: a team under the shadow of Romanian oppression, a team made up exclusively of Hungarians, who never received funding and who play a spirited (and valiant) game against the Romanian army team.  The tension is palpable, and Bidini does a great job capturing it.

As for Bidini’s play, he has wonderful sections about what it’s like to play hockey (something I’ve never done and likely never will, although I do ice skate).  He talks about the thrill, the adrenaline and the amount he plays hockey (his poor wife hardly ever sees him at home–he has games 4 nights a week).  But he also talks about some of the negatives about hockey (and why he stopped playing it when he was 13).  In a nutshell, jock assholes.  And these same jock assholes play in his league too (often topped off with some heavy beer drinking).  Unfortunately they seem to be everywhere around the world, too.  Of course, the good news is that not everyone is like that, but there’s something about hockey and beer that brings out the worst in men. Both on and off the ice.

Bidini relates some incidents from his home games when anger has gotten the best of him (and he is a pretty mellow guy for the most part) like the time when another singer and he got in to a huge violent rivalry in the ice.  And you have to think, there’s adrenaline and then there’s being out of control.

But mostly Bidini talks about playing in these foreign countries.  He enjoys the scrappy players of all ages (especially the old men who seem like they can barely move, yet once they strap on skates often leave him breathless and beaten).  And he gets a real thrill playing with people whose language he doesn’t understand.  (They all speak a universal language of hockey names, of course, but he does get to try out some international curses).   And he talks about how awesome it is to score a goal in Hong Kong!  (Which even I admit sounds pretty amazing).

The last aspect of the book is a sort of lament for the current state of hockey.  He speaks longingly of when he was younger and hockey players were honest about their play (and their dislike for each other).  They got in fights and didn’t apologize.  But they also had pride in where they were from.  When the Canadiens had a majority of Quebeckers on their team.

It is kind of funny that while Bidini regrets his on-ice temper, he really seems to prefer the days when men had major on-ice temper fits.  Although mostly he reminiscences back when a game could really bring out civic pride.  The Leafs-Habs rivalry meant that when the other team came to your place, you painted your face and maybe even your car.  Unlike now when the last Leafs-Habs game he attended he could actually buy tickets at the door.

Really the shame is that, as many argue, hockey has been co-opted by greed.  It has turned into just another professional sport with loud music, stupid promos and new rules designed to bring in new fans (while alienating old fans–and really, not bringing in new ones anyhow).  Those of us who don’t follow sports are not surprised by this, but evidently hockey purists long for the days when the crowd was noisier because of the hockey not because of the sound system.

Bidini is a wonderful travel writer.  He is pretty much an average guy who marvels at the weird things he encounters (like the bathrooms, or lack of, in China–a harrowing scene for writer and reader), he also has a lot of stereotypes in his head (he expects to see turbaned men in camels at the Dubai airport) but he is amazed by and open to all of the unexpected aspects of cultures that he comes across.  He is a warm and receptive traveler, an excellent resource for those of us who haven’t been somewhere.

And of course, his love of hockey (and the underdog) makes for scintillating reading, even when the team that he (we) wants to win doesn’t.  This is a great book if you like hockey.  And even a non-hockey fan could probably appreciate the fascinating aspect of seeing men in formal Arab dress on ice skates.  But there is a lot of hockey.

I’m really looking forward to Bidini’s other travelogues.