Anatomy Of A Thunder Bay Gig

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 2001

Pearson Airport hasn't exactly been a hub of activity since the terrorist attacks on September 11. Because of this, the procedures that we have been subjected to previously went much quicker than they had ever gone.

We arrived at the airport at 10:00am to embark on yet another trip to Thunder Bay to do a three-day engagement at a club called "Scuttlebutts".

After boarding the plane and waiting through an unusually long period of time on the runway for the queue of planes ahead waiting to take off in the cold rain, we embarked on yet another trip to Thunder Bay.

The flight, to us, was somewhat heroing. The weather was bad. Mike and I are bad flyers, and the takeoff was food for our fear. Soon though, the Gravol that I had given Mike in the airport kicked in and he was completely unconscious. When the turbulence began, even Scott was a little un-nerved.

We arrived at the airport in Thunder Bay and put Mike into immediate action. Mike possesses the most incredible negotiation skills, and we employed them to secure the cheapest rate for a rental car. Mission accomplished. The fee: $22.00 a day (as opposed to the initial quote of $38.00).

The club is located relatively close to the airport in an odd end of town. It's very much on the outskirts. Two really great things about the location of "Scuttlebutts" are the close proximity of the club to our hotel (it's right next door) and the eateries that are right across the street. It's a virtual haven for a musician after a gig. You have a choice of "Humpty’s" breakfast-type place (a low end "Denny's") and the beacon of western donut shops "Robin's Donuts" that, in my opinion, is much more tolerable than "Tim Horton's".

Our first stop, however, was the famous "Hoito". This is, in my opinion (and the opinion of many, many musicians who have been to Thunder Bay), the greatest home style-cooking restaurant in existence. It is a culinary landmark in this country. The food is excellent. The service staff is very friendly. The prices are exceedingly cheap and the ambiance is, well, different.

It is a Finnish-owned restaurant located in a basement. The walls are paneled with what could only be described as a shrine to the seventies. Light colored wood panels about 4 feet in width accented by recessed 1-inch baby blue trim between each panel.

The patrons are an accurate cross section of the inhabitants of Thunder Bay. You find many natives, Finnish people (Thunder Bay has a large Finnish population that mostly farm tobacco, I was told), and university students. It is, if nothing else, a great place to people-watch. My meal: $7.00 for an incredible large and delicious hot hamburger sandwich.

Our gig was uneventful. Thunder Bay is way above the Ontario "applause line" (a fictional line Andy Curran created in Northern Ontario above which people are unaware that applauding after a band executes a song is common practice) so we were denied the privilege of being appreciated by the crowd.

Out of frustration, and perhaps boredom, we decided to make the second set an exercise. The beauty of this band is how we can shift on the fly, and that's exactly what we did. The set consisted entirely of songs that we had never done before. Among them was an old Beatles chestnut called "While My Guitar Gently Weeps". It’s a nice little tune penned by guitarist George Harrison that appears on the "White Album". The irony of playing such an obscure number surfaced the following day (as you will read).

That got us back in the groove a bit. It kept us on our toes. After a bite to eat, we were off to the hotel and bed.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 2001

What an awful day. I awoke this morning to the sound of my TV blaring (I like to sleep with the TV on...after a gig, it cuts down the ringing in my ears and helps me sleep...however, by morning it's very loud).

The TV was on a news channel that had a ticker scrolling across the bottom of the screen showing various newsflashes. I put on my glasses to see if there was any significant news. After reading about Aretha Franklin suing a gossip magazine for something or another, I diverted my attention for a second only to see the ticker read "Beatle guitarist George Harrison dead at 58 of cancer".

Whoa! I was in shock. I immediately began scanning channels for a news network, hoping I read it wrong. I didn't.

Granted, I knew he was gravely ill, but I was still so saddened I can't tell you. Poor George; dying such a horrendous death. I called Scott right away to tell him but he was already in the know.

Harrison’s death was a cloud hanging over all of us all weekend. In a strange way it was inspiring. You see, being the big Beatle fans we are, we were graced with many tributes to George on television all weekend. These little video clips served as a reminder of how important music is to us.

Anyhow, we once again made our way to the "Hoito" to eat yet another incredible meal. At this point though, I was beginning to feel stomach pains that hindered the amount of food I ate. After breakfast, it was off to a horrible music store then the "Inter-City" shopping mall.

The trip to the mall is yet another staple of our Thunder Bay trips. Mike has carefully developed a reputation for spending copious amounts of money every time we go there. This time, however (perhaps he was discouraged by Scott and I teasing him), Mike spent very little money.

We eventually ended up back at the hotel where a nap was in order. We made an attempt to fashion a little tribute to George Harrison that night by learning "Something", but soon realized (after much thought and careful arrangement) that the tribute would be lost on these folks. The plan was scrapped in favor of the same old schlock we always play.

The gig, again, was somewhat event-less. We had a great time though. The beauty of "Scuttlebutts" from my perspective is the stage sound. With the exception of the guitar amp I’m provided with (a Fender Twin…which I don’t care for) the vocals come through strong, which I love. Once again, the crowd was mighty and seemed to really enjoy the show. The dance floor was packed, and when we broke into our bastardized rendering of the Ike and Tina Turner classic "Proud Mary" (yes. I know the original was by CCR), they all sang along with the choruses. Let me assure you, as a musician, there is not greater thrill than hearing half the crowd of 500 singing the lyrics to the song that you’re shoving down their throats. But, alas, in typical fashion, we were witness to a graphic demonstration of how silent an audience of 500 can be when the song ended. It gets terribly frustrating.

My stomach pains hindered the whole gig, for me. I soldiered on in spite of the handicap. "I’ve played sicker than this" I thought.

After the gig we had a bite to eat then hit the hay.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 1, 2001

With the pain in my gut getting to its peak, we hit the road early. The order of the day: driving up MacKay Mountain.

The mountain, from the airplane, is the first real landmark that identifies Thunder Bay amidst North-Western Ontario’s dramatic landscape. It doesn’t remind one of a mountain as much as it does a Yuletide log with a flat top. It is this, and the "Sleeping Giant" (a rock formation who’s profile resembles a sleeping native…at least that’s what the natives say) that are the two most majestic sights in this little city.

The task of driving up this mammoth rock was handed to yours truly. At the halfway point however, we were greeted with a locked gate. Soon after turning around, Mike took the wheel and put the rental car through its paces. Great fun abounds with the lethal combination of three men, boredom, snowy parking lots and a rental car with an emergency brake lever. Not much more needs to be said really.

I was beginning to feel the burn set in (I hadn’t slept well all weekend because of my stomach) so I went back to the hotel to sleep while Scott and Mike retired to their rooms.

After a short nap, we went to the club early and set up a slew of future dates, got the contracts signed and got paid early. We made our way over to "Humpty’s" afterwards to divide the money.

"Could we take a table in the corner, away from everyone" I asked a bewildered waitress.

When we took the money out (without disclosing the amount, I will disclose that there were many, many piles of twenty dollar bills) and began to count it out.

"You guys just rob a bank or something?" the young waitress asked as she filled the coffee cups. It took a bit of convincing, but she finally believed the truth.

The only significant event that took place at the gig that night had absolutely nothing to do with the music.

I had brought my camcorder with us on the trip to break the monotony of the days, and I was wielding it at the soundboard while talking to Bogden, the soundman. Suddenly a pair of women approached us.

They were in their thirties, wearing a great deal of make-up and slightly on the heavy side.

"Hey buddy, give us that camera. We’ll take it into the bathroom and put on a little show for you" one said.

"Uh, no. I don’t want to loose the camera," I said, picturing them walking out the side door of the club with my new toy. "Maybe later" I continued.

Later in the evening they approached Mike and I and offered their services again. This time, with Mike’s prodding, I said yes. After insisting that they weren’t gay or weird (which, as Mike pointed out, is just as good as saying you are gay and weird) they walked away camera-less promising to come back, leaving us dripping with anticipation (insert sarcastic tone here) and never returned.

We packed up our stuff (which was much simpler than usual because everything but guitars, drumsticks and cymbals was provided) and went to bed.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 2, 2001

We awoke and packed, then met Bogden in the lobby of the hotel where he gave Mike two guitars to take home with him to sell. We made our way to the airport only to endure the most intense security check yet. Every piece of electronic equipment had to be turned on and inspected. Even Toronto neglected to do check that stuff.

On our way on to the airplane through the "tube hallway", Scott befriended the pilot and we promised to let him in to the club for free if he happened to be back in Thunder Bay in February when we played there again.

AFTERTHOUGHTS

Upon my return to Oakville, I found the pains in my stomach too much to handle. After spending the day in the hospital, I found out that I might have an ulcer. The jury is still out on the exact cause of the pain (subject to more tests) but the doctor theorized that perhaps the stress of flying brought it on (which is absurd…I really don’t mind flying as much as I used to).

Watching the video of the trip, I’m reminded of how much fun the trip really was. Even though I may not have realized it at the time, we managed to have some great moments. I’m glad I brought the camera. The great thing is that none of us are particularly camera shy. On top of that, Scott and Mike (and, I guess, me) are very funny guys. I am truly blessed to play with guys who feel the exact way I do about playing "Scuttlebutts".

Thanks Scott and Mike. Your love and levity is not lost on me. As always, I’m honored to be a part of the Beat Heathens.