Posted by 
July 2nd, 1998 was a pretty big day for me.
I had recently started booking concerts in Ottawa and this was perhaps the third or fourth show I had booked. I was very interested in getting a good crowd out to the small lecture hall in Carleton University’s music department. Luckily the headliner was Bob Wiseman. Not only does the guy have a built-in crowd that is guaranteed to show up no matter what, he’s also a very understanding businessman and he is loathe to see anyone lose money in this game.
I made some posters and stuck them up around town, making sure to hit all the record shops and music stores. I got some press and got on the concert listings on every radio station in town. I still had not learned that Ottawa crowds simply don’t buy advance tickets and I was biting my nails right up to the wire.
My relationship with Bob was one of jaw-dropping adoration; I had seen him several times before and he was the first guy I ever booked. Truth be told, I was such a fan that I booked the initial show just so I could see him play. He is just such a remarkably talented and thoroughly engaging performer. He can make you laugh and cry in a single verse with insightful songs of life, death, social justice and injustice. You might even learn a thing or two – he has written very wordy and catchy exposés on Bhopal, Doug Christie and Pepsi to name just a few.
If wracking my nerves watching the gate receipts wasn’t enough, I was opening the show supporting a young guitar student of mine named Jane Radmore. She had come into her third or fourth lesson and told me she had written a song.
“Let’s hear it,” I said, not expecting much. As a guitar teacher I get this a lot.
And then this cute little nine year-old kid sang me a three-chord gem called Mary, Queen Of Scots that was based on her interpretation of the movie Braveheart and I was flabbergasted. Then she asked me if I wanted to hear any more before going on to play me a half-dozen three-minute pop miracles. I was flummoxed.
“Would you like to start a band,” I asked her.
This was probably one of our first gigs and I was anxious for it to go well. It did, Jane won over everyone in the room and the second act that Bob insisted I have on the bill came on, an acoustic-based group from Toronto called Us & Wilbur.
The thing that stands out for me about their set was how it started. The drummer held up a brush and started flicking it in the air. In the small, quiet room we could all just make out the steady woosh woosh woosh woosh of the brush and that’s how the band counted in their first song. I thought it was very cool. I asked the drummer about it afterwards and he said it was completely impromptu and the first time he had ever done it.
After their set Bob went on and slayed us all. He played his acoustic guitar and tore our hearts apart then he told wrenching stories that glued them roughly back together again. He played the music department’s big old Bösendorfer grand piano and made the walls sing with enharmonic vibrations in a piece called Breaking Philip’s Glass. It was all completely breathtaking, as his shows usually are, and I was pretty proud to have brought such great music to town.
And in the final count the room had almost sold out so everybody did pretty well financially too, which is pretty important and encouraging.
After the show all of us (except underage Jane) went to the James Street Feed Co. for a few drinks. Bob was in a good mood and telling great stories and the Us & Wilbur guys were really friendly too. I was pumped that the night had gone so well and was happy to have my girlfriend in town from Toronto for the Canada Day weekend to share it all with me.
A month or two later she dumped me for Us & Wilbur’s lead singer who had started emailing her after that night, so as I mentioned, July 2nd, 1998 was a pretty big day for me.
Todd Man Out 