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At some point I’ve got to come out and admit the great regret I feel about the fact that I actually forget a good many of these concerts. Like, completely and utterly forget. It’s hard for me to believe sometimes (most times), and my lapses should in no way reflect on the quality of the band(s) in question (sometimes very much in question). Indeed, I have found notes in my own hand that describe concerts I’ve completely forgotten in raving terms about both how great the band was and how great a time I had. In a file-retrieval sense these shows are sadly gone – lost through any one of many mistakes or bonks on the noggin or perhaps too many vaccinations or not enough; I don’t know – though I suspect these experiences must live on in my subconscious. Which I suppose in turn means they are still part of my mental makeup, so there’s that at least.
July 14th, 2017 is one of these, a night of music that I have quite simply forgotten quite completely. If not for my relentlessly remindful ticketbook I would never have known that I saw Jack Semple and Andersson .Paak at the Ottawa Bluesfest that night. And though this isn’t one of those forgotten shows that I’ve found notes for (for if there are indeed notes I’ve forgotten where they are) I am quite confident that I was quite blown away, as I’ve since become aware of Andersson .Paak’s oeuvre and I think he’s quite good. To be honest I’d have to google Jack Semple to find out who he is and I can’t bring myself to, lest I discover more greatness that bounced off my 2017 brain like it was Teflon.
My only saving grace, my ace-in-the-hole is the possibility that I have forgotten the performers because I spent the evening socializing with a myriad of friends. This is an ample possibility as I am privileged to know a lot of people that make it out to these sorts of things and I am a pretty social drinker who likes finding reasons to drink, but if this was the case why did I leave before the Eat a Peach Gregg Allman tribute band on the River Stage? Surely everybody I knew that was onsite would have been there and at the smaller stage everyone would have been easy to find.
I can only guess that it started raining or something, or perhaps my distaste for tribute acts got the better of me, I forget. But then I already told you that didn’t I?
Anyway, suffice to say that I wish deeply that I could remember it all. But there is just so much to remember. I’ve been to lots and lots of shows, man. Like, I think I can remember every time I went scuba diving, or every time I went to Disneyworld. I can certainly remember every NASCAR race I’ve been to, because I only went to one. It could be that my concert memory bone is simply over-saturated.
If that’s the culprit then no regrets, and bring on the next show.
Todd Man Out 