I Just Read About That…

SOUNDTRACK: RHEOSTATICS-Copps Coliseum, Hamilton, ON (December 11, 1996).

This is the 22nd night of the 24 date Canadian Tour opening for The Tragically Hip on their Trouble At The Henhouse Tour.  This is the last date of the tour (so far) for which there are recordings.

The show opens with a great “Midwinter Night’s Dream” followed by a rocking “Fat.”  As the song ends with the “bye byes” Dave save “see you in the next song, Martin.”

“All the Same Eyes” is a rocking good time.  And then, after a little riff, Martin starts “Motorino” which sounds great.

Dave says, “Hi we’re the Rheostatics, not to be confused with The Howl Brothers–they couldn’t make it.  But we’ve got their jackets.”  He mentions that they have a new album out, “get it before its reduced to clear.”

During “Bad Time to Be Poor” after “feeling winter through a crack in the door,” Tim goes brrrrrr.  More Tim on “Claire” with some great soaring harmony vocals before Martin’s rather grunting solo.  Although at the end, instead of spelling C-L-A-I-R-E, Tim seems to be singing Steve L.A. yea yea yea confides in me”

The set ends with two scorching tracks.  A terrific “California Dreamline” and a roaring “Feed Yourself” (with a really intense ending).

As the feedback fades, Dave says, “Thanks to the Tragically Hip.  God bless.”

It’s a nice way to end the tour–but maybe someday we’ll hear those last two shows.

[READ: April 9, 2019] “The Unexpected”

This was a darkly amusing story (yes, it is Joyce Carol Oates) that I had to wonder if it was in any way autobiographical or just horrifyingly possible.

The story is about a writer receiving an honorary doctorate of humane letters from the community college near her home town in update New York.  She left and never came back, but has been writing about her home town for much of her career.

She is awkward from the start, “Thank you for the honor.  I am very–honored.”

She receives applause–not thunderous, but polite, even warm .  But her speech seems to fall flat (if it can even be heard over the fighter jets).  But when she is finished, she pauses and the response is enthusiastic and she wonders “Is there where I belong now?”

But that warm feeling doesn’t last.

After lunch she is brought to the small city where she grew up.  She will be honored as Yewville’s Most Distinguished Literary Figure.  It all looks the same–so little has changed.  The water tower is still there, of course.  She recalls the senior boy who fell off the tower to his death.  Useless memories.  But some things have changed–local businesses are now office parks or chain stores .

And then she remembered a girl small, frightened, poorly dressed, snarled hair, hounded by boys.  A vivid memory right on that bridge there.  What was her name, Olive?  Olivia?

She also recalls that Yewville was contaminated by waste material from Niagara Falls.

As she drives through town she sees a woman pushing what looks like all of her possessions in a shopping cart.  Is the woman homeless?  Worse, does she the woman?  Is it a relative?  No, she has no more relatives here.

She gets to the public library which looks completely unchanged and wonders what this place means to her anymore.  She has no relatives here, no friends.

Then she sees that the the sign in front says the event has been canceled.  She is surprised more than hurt until she learns that too many people wanted to come.  The assistant librarian said something about “fire code and “fire marshall.”

When she enters the library she sees how much it has changed inside.  The reading room–her sanctuary as a child–is now a computer reference room (of which they are very proud).   The tour ends in a small room where a dozen or so fans have gathered.

There is no podium, no place to stand.  She is more self-conscious than at the ceremony.

It turns into a kind of Q&A with many of the questions being about writing (for surely they are all writers)–advice for getting an agent, overcoming writers block, etc.

When one woman asks if she has children she says no and the woman follows up with “Are you sorry about that?”  She replies cleverly, “It would depend on the children,” but that does not go over well.  The woman seems particularly offended, “None of us knew what our children would be like.”

She thinks that maybe everyone in the room is a former classmate, but she can’t recall any names.

Finally the questions get nasty.

Are you proud of yourself exploiting your past here in Yewville?

A woman–Olive?  Olivia?  even tells her that she remembers things wrong. That she was the girl on the bridge, not Olive.

Finally the assistant librarian sneers at her that she herself didn’t abandon her family who needed her.  She got a degree in library science and came right back. That was good enough for her.

The author remembers that she had once considered becoming a librarian or a teacher and staying in Yewville.

She feels like she should apologize but what is there to say and no one seems to be paying attention anyhow.

This story descends into a psychological mind fuck.  Woah.