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On July 9th, 2013 I went to see the Burt Neilson Band at the Black Box in Toronto, an aftershow that became an afterthought due to afterweather. An explanation:
M’lady and I (and basically all of my friends from both near and far) were in Toronto to see Phish at the Molson Amphitheatre down at Ontario Place. To say that we were all excited would be a dramatic understatement, for this was to be the band’s first show outside of the United States in over thirteen years, since the last time they played in Toronto at the same venue (on July 6th, 2000). Something I can tell you from much personal experience: crossing the border makes any road trip astoundingly more inconvenient and anxiety-ridden. Heck, for lots of people it makes going to shows an impossibility for a myriad of reasons. Suffice to say: for us Canadians Canadian Phish shows are extra-special.
So the city was crawling with Canadian fans from all over and a bunch of border-curious passport-holding American friends were in town too, and like I say we were all very, very pumped to be there. Pre-parties abounded and aftershow options (like the one purported here) were vast. M’lady and I and a small Ottawa contingent departed our Toronto friend’s suburban wonder-house of hospitality nice and early on show-day headed for our chosen pre-bash which took place at a different Toronto friend’s loft pad in one of the city’s new super-trendy areas. It was the first and only time I was there and man, what an amazing place they had! And due to the special circumstances the large, gorgeous space was packed with great people, littered with astounding snacks and hors d’oeuvres, dripping with an extensive array of frosty beers and high-end liquor bottles, and brimming with ecstatic, wide-smiles from exposed-brick wall to exposed-brick wall.
I remember I was standing in the kitchen area when a tall stack of extra-large pizza boxes were brought in by some late-arriving revellers. I had just reached for a slice when phones throughout the room started buzzing and ringing all at once. “What?!?!”
“No, it can’t be…”
“This must be a joke…”
It was no joke, not by a long shot. The Phish concert had been cancelled. It was 5:30pm – a mere two hours before showtime – and the concert had been called off. This was the first time in Phish history that a concert had been cancelled on the day of. And why? Inclement weather, and on a beautiful sunny day no less.
Y’see, Toronto had experienced torrential rain for the previous few days, so much that many of the streets had flooded, including a section of the Don Valley Parkway directly outside of the Molson Amphitheatre. Apparently the road getting to the venue was unpassable or at least deemed not safe to pass. Regardless, the show that we were all in town for, the concert we had all spent the last few hours prepping for was no more. There was nothing left to do but reach for another drink (and another and another) and drown our newfound sorrow with much libation and lamentation.
Well, pretty soon the pre-show drinks had all been drunk and we started in on the aftershow drinks. When those started to thin out we somehow had the wherewithal to call a delivery service. And so it was that by the time the afterparties were set to begin we were all pretty…um…revelled out.
I recall sitting on a stoop outside of the Black Box watching a large group of staggering familiar hippies amassing. At the best of times the Black Box is set up for extreme drinking; in place of having a permanent bar the large, square room is lined with folding tables backed by heavy-pouring quasi-bartenders bent on emptying as many liquor bottles as possible, and here we all were on a mission to bitter-drink the bar dry (I’m sure it wasn’t just me). I’m pretty sure we did.
So while this might very well have been my last-ever BNB show it hardly counts any more than the Phish concert did. Not that I don’t remember it – I actually do – but I wasn’t paying any attention whatsoever to the band. None. You’d think I had paid $15+fees for a front row ticket to the bar table.
(Phish played a makeup show in Toronto a couple of weeks later and in a heart-wrenching twist of irony we couldn’t be there. It was on my suggestion that m’lady and I had purchased tickets to the entire second half of Phish’s summer tour that year [along with a few interesting pickup concerts along the way], which started in Chicago ten days after this aborted Toronto date and took us all the way to the Hollywood Bowl in LA and back again. So by the time Phish returned to Toronto we were already well on our way, sitting in the State Theatre in Minneapolis seeing Steve Martin, Edie Brickell, and the Steep Canyon Rangers.)
Todd Man Out 