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Kim Mitchell is a living emblem of the Canadian musician who found little or no success outside of this great country of ours. I mean, try and find a Canuck who has never heard of the boy named Kim or his great, vastly underrated band Max Webster. At the same time try to find an American who has.
Okay, maybe there are plenty of Canadians around who don’t know much about the original Toronto Tonto, but back in the ’80’s and early ’90’s it was a different story. Back then if you weren’t hip enough to be up on your Max Webster you at least knew the MADD anthem Go For A Soda, the icky but strangely attractive Patio Lanterns, or what should be considered Canada’s greatest rock song without intelligent lyrics, Lager and Ale.
So it was with glee that I drove to the Moncton Coliseum on June 19th, 1992 for my fourth Kim Mitchell concert.
Prince Edward Island’s Haywire opened the show, a band that is probably most famous for being sampled by Meastro Fresh Wes (“Drop the needle!”). Amazingly enough, Haywire had opened for Kim Mitchell when I had seen him in the very same venue six years earlier. I’m sure they put in a fine set on this evening but I’m not sure I was paying too much attention from my seat in the lower bowl.
(Haywire had rocked my socks off the last time I saw them opening for Kim but that show had been GA and I spent it pressed up against the rail just feet from the stage, so adrenalin was probably playing a significant role.)
Kim Mitchell is a damn fine guitar player, a fact that is largely overlooked. Just ask any serious guitar player, they’ll tell ya. And with the remarkably talented Peter Fredette beside him on stage playing bass and guitar and singing all those magical high notes there was a good deal of talent to absorb.
I soaked it in as best I could, rocking and swaying from way back in the seats. I nearly burnt my thumb off from the lighter I held lit during the entirety of All We Are. After the show I would go out to the parking lot (I never appreciated free parking at concerts back in the day like I should have) get in my old blue Buick and drive home sober, exhausted, and rocked to my core with Canadiana Rock & Roll.
(I feel compelled to add that I bought possibly the ugliest tour shirt of all time at this concert. I am wearing it as I write this. The front has a very dark black & white image of grotesque faces eating sandwiches but it’s the absurd over-thickness of the, is it vinyl? on the front of the shirt that makes it extra horrible. I swear the front of the tee is probably bulletproof. On the back it reads “Aural Fixations: Stick It In Your Ear!” in large, purple block letters, which redeems the shirt a little, but not nearly enough.)
Todd Man Out 