09/12/05

Edmonton was good fun. The Friday shows were only about half full, but still managed to be pretty cool. I was a little uncomfortable in the first show, mostly because the stage is much higher than I am used to, and there is a notably strange echo. By the second show I was back up to speed, and it was all systems go after that.

The Saturday show was like a gift from the heavens. The club was packed to the gills, and the audience was ready to rock. Bill got them fast, and then Howie Miller went up and sealed the deal. This audience was pumped and primed. When I hit the stage, you could feel the electricity in the air, as it snapped and crackled, it was almost as if I had been hooked up to a Vander Graff generator. The audience exploded after the first joke, and I didn't look back after that. They were mine, and they new it.

It's moments like that where you understand why you do what you do. The communication was clear, and the intended receiver got the message. There was no error in the system, no fly in the ointment. For the first time in a while, I truly felt like a rock star. Stand up no longer feels like a hobby I get paid for. It now feels like a career.

Edmonton is a funny place. The people there really are great. (IF you exclude the area that we normally stay in… which can be a little dicey from time to time.) Edmontonians however have some obvious flaws, namely their pesky and insistent love of the Oilers. They cling to what was, and not what is. (But then as a Flames fan I am equally guilty…) But for all practical purposes they are fine people.

The city itself is fairly curious. The main drags are nice enough, but there are a lot of areas that look more like they had just been kinda slapped up. There's barely a lick of paint, or a dash of concrete to lace it all together. It looks a lot less like urban planning, and a lot more like a diorama created by some 6th grade C student (with a bad case of the shakes...) But then again, the river valley is stunning, and the Whyte Ave area is pretty damn funky. You can find what you want in Edmonton, and it seems like a nice place to live, but It's not the prettiest city overall.

The hotel they put us in is okay. In the past, the rooms have been reasonably comfortable, or at least clean (ish). I wish I could say that was the case this time. The carpet was stained, as were the walls. One wall in particular had a bit of a splatter on it. It could have been cola; it could have been blood, either way I'm pretty sure that CSI Edmonton probably should have come to take a peek before they gave me the room.

I did a little bit of shopping while I was there. I avoided the West Edmonton mall in favour of a few much smaller malls with mom and pop type stores in them. There wasn't much around, (Except for some real snazzy knock off hip-hop duds… For only the most frugal of the hard rhyming set…) so I took a jaunt over to a strip mall that had some larger anchor stores. I had the most luck though at Zellers. I found Dickies work shirts there for cheap. In the boutique shops they fetch 60 or 70 bucks. At Zellers, I found the very same shirts for a paltry $15.99. I snapped up a few, so now I'm set for the coming fall.

Saturday night after the show, I went down to Whyte Avenue for a bit. First I hit the Commercial Hotel. There was a blues band playing, but they really weren't all that interesting. (White folks playing the blues rarely is…) I decided to go for a walk down the bar strip. I came across a punk bar. Well really it was a seedy old warehouse that had some bands playing in it. I think the Kids thought I was a narc. I went in to see what was going on. The girl at the door asked me for ID. I gave it too her, and her eyes widened.

Punk Rock Girl: “You're 34…”

Me: Yes…

Punk Rock Girl: Wow… why are you here? Are you looking for your kid?

Me: I don't have any kids… I just like punk rock…

Punk Rock Girl: Cool… It's 3 bucks to get in…

Me: A bargain at twice the price…

Punk Rock Girl: Wah?

Me: Never mind…

And then I walked in. The smell of stale beer and sweat was overwhelming. It reminded me of old cheese. It was more pungent than I normally tend to enjoy. I had forgotten what a punk rock show smelled like. It had been a very long time. (Over a decade for sure.) Someone next to me started to puke, and it was at that moment I remembered why I stopped going. I grew up… It was a happy revelation.

Long gone are the days of hurling myself at high velocity towards the sea of bodies. The memories of poorly tuned guitars and stale punk politics have been replace by a sense of forward motion. The zeal I once had has mutated into something new. Optimism.

I think about the old halcyon days with great nostalgia. But I live in a much cooler place now. I live in a world where I am shaping my own destiny, and following my dreams. Punk rock was the start of beating my own path, and for that I owe something, but now I have out grown it's misguided idealism, in favour of my own newer misguided idealism. But at least it's mine.

I went back to my hotel with a smile on my face. I slept like a baby for once.