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I spent New Years Eve 2005 seeing the Burt Neilson Band at Maverick’s right here in Ottawa. This show capped off a heck of a year for me, one I had dubbed Coming Alive In 2005 three hundred and sixty-five days previously. I had spent the year getting around to several things that I had been meaning to get around to, like learning to enjoy winter by taking up both skating and snowboarding, finally going to see one of Les Paul’s Monday-night shows at The Iridium in New York City, hiking the Inca Trail, and checking two things off of my list in one gruelling nineteen-day swipe when I visited Newfoundland for the first time on my first-ever cycling trip.
I also finally got around to discovering the love my life when I was introduced to m’lady at a ZZ Top concert six months earlier so like I say, I was bidding farewell to a heck of a year.
And yet I don’t really recall the evening very well – if at all – but that doesn’t matter, I can easily imagine the scene.
Bradm would have been first through the door, and likely with ticket number 1 in his hand, such an avid music fan was he. A search on archive.org proves he was there at least; as of this writing Bradm’s recording of this show has been listened to over 2,000 times. My dear late friend provided quite a service through his taping hobby: despite the fact that I don’t remember a shred of the band’s performance at this show I am listening to it right now (of course it’s awesome) and as long as the internet is the internet I will be able to listen to it whenever I please.
(Thanks Bradm – we all miss you.)
Next, next and next through the door would have been one or another of my good friends, as the Ottawa jamband crowd surely took over the bar like it was our own private party, which I suppose it was. With no Phish tour, nero out of the picture, and with Burt Neilson Band situated as one of Canada’s premier jambands this was the only place for any of us to be, and back in the day there were certainly enough of us to fill the place. So it’s safe to say that everyone in the bar knew everyone else in the bar, and we were all happy to see each other there.
And though I don’t recall, I can promise you that the bar staff treated me (and everyone else for that matter) with the utmost courtesy and respect, and likely to more than a few free drinks. During the nero days my money was generally no good in the place, and even years after the band broke up the bar would still comp my first drink at the very least. I think it’s safe to say that the dudes at Maverick’s generally bent over backwards to keep the whole Ottawa jam crowd happy and who could blame them – we came out in droves, we never got into fights, and we drank like storm drains in a downpour.
I suppose there’s a chance that the fact that I don’t remember much about this night might be indirect evidence of the bar’s generosity. Kinda makes you wonder at least.
And of course m’lady would have been there and no doubt we counted down our first New Years together on the dancefloor, clinking plastic Champagne glasses and smooching in a new calendar that held who-knows-what (spoiler alert: tons of fun things and sustained happiness). Y’know, I think I do remember it after all. And it was exactly (suspiciously?) as described.
As should be expected, I extra-don’t remember (if that’s possible) what I did after the bar closed down for the night, which probably means I went to someone’s house or hotel room* and stood around until daybreak babbling loudly and happily about one thing or another to any number of people (zero included).
So all told, it was probably a pretty awesome New Years Eve. And the very best part is that I’m quite confident I had an even better time than I (don’t) remember.
*Edit: I’ve been reminded that the afterparty was at 40 Main, which makes any chance of remembering anything about the rest of the night – or likely the next several days – very, very improbable certainly a breach of contract.
Todd Man Out 