Rheostatics moments

Robin's Rheostatics moments inspired me to write down my own. They are retold as truly as I can remember them.

[1]

1992 or 1993: I was at my girlfriend's apartment in a highrise on Richmond in London, near Western. The place where my car got broken into -- twice. We were getting ready to go somewhere, and while I was brushing my teeth or something, this weird video came on the TV, which happened to be on "Video Hits" or "Muchmusic" or whatever you call it. I never paid that much attention to it, but I noticed this strange video with a skinny guy on a frozen pond (licking the ice?) and this weird, jagged song sung by the strangest voice. Rheostatics? Hm... I filed that away for later. Of course, it was "Record Body Count", and to this day I've never seen the video again.

[2]

Maybe a week after moment #1. During my usual Saturday downtown jaunt I bought cheese curds and Guatemalan coffee at the market as always, but this time I also stopped into Dr. Disc on Clarence, and remembered this weird "Rheostatics" band. In the bin I found a Rheostatics tape with a big fish on it called "Melville", which I believe was the only one they had.

I probably stopped into Novacks for a few minutes on my way back to the market parking lot, and then hiked up back to my car that was parked there. (Not sure why I drove -- I must have lived at Adelaide and Huron then. The horror, the horror...)

Anyway, I unwrapped the tape and put it in the stereo of my '82 Civic (RIP -- sniff). I remember two things. Bink! That chord! "Joey pulled himself..." That voice! And then the bonkiest snare I'd ever heard. We didn't hear too many snares like that in those days.

I think I listened to most of the record in the car, and it only took a couple of tunes before I had this strange feeling: "This is the music. I knew it was out there, and I've found it! This music was made for me." It sounds stupid now, but I distinctly remember a feeling of... what? Connection? Timeliness? I mean, it sounded great, but I recognised something in there. It made a deep and lasting impression.

I listened to that tape a lot.

[3]

[This isn't really a moment, but more of a time span.]

Got the rest of the albums as they happened. Became huge fan. Went to all the shows at Call the Office, and wherever else. After seeing a few shows, learned that this band was to be responsible for some of the best and worst shows I've ever seen.

There were a couple of times when they seemed disinterested, almost sullen. The music was never bad, but there were one or two shows where it seemed like they were at a basement rehearsal that they didn't want to be at. They weren't even aware of the audience and didn't respond to or engage us at all. Those shows were bummers.

And a couple of shows that were just transcendental.

[4]

A minor one, but they were playing at Althouse College in London. If I remember right, Dinner is Ruined opened for them, which was pretty cool. I can't remember the show much, but I remember getting there a bit early and sitting down in the lobby with a friend, and Bidini came and sat beside us, and was writing in his notebook. As the cliche goes, I remember wanting to have something to say, but I really didn't, and so no words were exchanged. That was probably best anyway.

[5]

I'm too lazy to look up when it happened exactly, but this is the show at the Bathurst Street Theatre -- probably mid-nineties where Ron Sexsmith opened for them, solo. This was the first time I'd heard Ron, and he was awesome. I remember thinking a couple times, in both his singing and his guitar playing: "oh no, he's not going to make it!" But he always did; that beautiful, lazy voice fluttered up to the note he was going for, and the crowd loved it. He sounded fabulous.

Rheos were great that night too. That was one of the transcendental shows. Martin was in fine form that night; playing and singing like there was a fight to the death in his gut between an army of angels and one of devils. If I remember right, he might have affixed some black tape to his shirt to form a crude exclamation sign. Hm... that sounds made up. Maybe it didn't happen like that.

Awesome show, anyway. I think the CBC recorded that one.

[6]

October 20, 1994: this might well have been before moment #5, but whatever. This was a stressful night, since I finished up work in London, drove to Toronto, and broke up with my girlfriend. (As it happened, the same one whose apartment I'd first heard this band.) It wasn't a particular awesome breakup, and nobody left it feeling that great. But for some reason it was a warmish night, and I distinctly remember putting "Introducing Happiness" in the tape deck of the Prelude (again, RIP, sniff -- that car was awesome) and just cranking it. Speeding down the 401 back to London, leaky sunroof open, stars above me, singing along with Vesely one of the happiest Rheos tunes ever written.

As an aside, I haven't read a lot of reviews of Rheostatics albums, but I get the feeling that Introducing Happiness isn't viewed as one of their better ones. It sure is ambitious, and a bit wanky in places, but I think there are some gems on there.

Anyway, I won't forget the feeling of relief and optimism I had listening to that record speeding back to London on a warm October night.

[7a]

[Yes, these are hopelessly out of sequence.]

Bought Whale Music. Blown away by Self-Serve Gas Station and California Dreamline. These songs are still magical to me all these years later.

But -- I would get to Shaved Head and fast forward the tape, as we did in those days. I would skip Shaved Head. I would listen to the first few bars, and not get it: this is a boring, slow, two-chorder.

[7b]

I really heard Shaved Head for the first time, and cried.

[8]

Saw Rheos in the UW Humanities Theatre with Inika and Eric, which to me is worth mentioning only because I think it's the only time I've ever seen a show with my brother. It's also remarkable that we actually made it to Waterloo and found the theatre. No more details available; those two know why.

Also, Paul McLeod opened that show, and blew me away. He makes a lot of music up there for being just one guy.

[bunch of years pass, I get old, etc]

[9]

March 29, 2007: Horseshoe Tavern. It's the Night Before The Big Night: some penultimate rock before the last show at Massey Hall. There with a friend (who a couple years earlier had turned into a rabid Rheos fan; I like to think I helped.) Good show, but I thought I noticed something. Hmmm.. Martin's struggling a bit...

[10]

March 30, 2007: Massey Hall. The Last Rheostatics Show. It was great. There was so much love in that room for that band. I can't imagine what it must have been like to be up there. Martin sang his guts out, but his voice had largely deserted him. A bummer, but he fought it out every step of the way. Clarkie came up and played on Northern Wish, which was a highlight for me. It felt like a homecoming. The fake snow that fell during When Winter Comes. The jam in the middle aisle after the house lights went up, with kids running around, waiting for their parents to wrap up their last show.

I was there.