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When I first moved to Ottawa in 1989 it wasn’t much of a festival town, which was strange given how vibrant and eclectic the local music scene was at the time. The folk festival was up and running and I suppose the jazz festival was already taking baby steps, but once the Ottawa Bluesfest started showing consistent growth festivals started popping up all over town. A small percentage of these persevered and are now among the city’s absolutely thriving festival scene but many of them did not, folding amid bankruptcy after dismal results.
I suspect the Fresh Festival could be counted among the latter; if I recall correctly the festival reared it’s head just this one year so they must not have done very well. It’s too bad; someone in booking obviously knew their stuff as the lineup was stacked with several stars-to-be.
I can’t remember if it was a multi-day festival or not, though the ticket stub suggests that it was. I only went the one day, on July 14, 2000. LeBreton Flats was undeveloped at the time, just a field of grass and dirt a short walk from my apartment. Bluesfest had moved there the year before and would remain for another year after this before shifting to City Hall.
I was there because nero was on the bill. I think I had just started managing them, so recently that the show had been booked before I was involved. Either way I was onsite and helping out with gear and such.
The act before nero was a young girl with a name I had a hard time getting straight. Word was she was going to be the Next Big Thing and I remember watching her and thinking what a ride she was in for. Nelly Furtado was just taking hold and had a phalanx of young fans pressing up against the stage for her afternoon set.
nero went on next and got rid of the kids with their newly-developing instrumental prog-jam, though they still played to what was probably their biggest crowd at the time. It was fun to watch those three fresh faces playing on a proper stage, huge smiles all around.
The only other band I saw that day was another group of up-and-comers called The Roots. They were still more than a decade away from their high-profile residency on late-night television but they played like they already had the gig. This was the first time I had heard proper beat-boxing (I’m not very hip) and I was really impressed. The set was crispy and jumping; these guys were obviously going somewhere.
And so a festival with the kind of foresight to book a future diva, a highly respected funk/roots collective that would come to anchor the Tonight Show, and what was for a brief time the little kings of Canada’s tiny jam scene faded after a single kick at the can, proving that running a successful festival in Ottawa takes more than just good musical sense.
Which is why I’ve never tried to do it.
Todd Man Out 