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When I walked into Maple Leaf Gardens on June 25th, 1995 I had no idea that it would be my last time stepping into the legendary and much-storied venue. All I knew is that I was there to see Van Morrison at the request (insistence?) of the lady of my university years, Shannon.
Back in my longhair era I wasn’t the hugest Van fan but Shannon sure was. He was just too laid back for a young musical jumping bean like myself but get a few drinks into Shannon and she would invariably overtake the nearest stereo and curate a one-woman singalong Van-a-thon (with a touch of Bread thrown in when things got too intense), and with every spurned mutiny and/or intervention she would crank up the volume another notch.
And so we took our seats in the lower bowl behind what would have been Bunny Larocque’s home net and settled in for the show. I’m sure I was too broke/cheap to spring for beers back in the day, but I might just have done exactly that at this show because man, was it hot in there.
No doubt I filled the time musing about all the great shows I had seen in the Gardens, which in truth was a pretty short list: Triumph, KISS (without makeup), and Ozzy (without Randy Rhodes), so I probably filled the rest of the time rattling off an endless list of megastars who had played under those very rafters that I hadn’t seen, names like The Beatles, Elvis, Bob Marley, The Who performing their first last concert ever (a show that I had – and sold – a pair of tickets for), Muhammad Ali fought in the Gardens, Duran Duran filmed their Reflex video there (just days before the Ozzy show I saw)…oh I must have gone on and on. And all the while we were both wiping sweat from our brows and looking up at the obviously under-achieving air-conditioning units that hung mutely from the roof.
This was one of those “Evening With” concerts – which basically means the promotors decided not to shell out cash for an opening act – and when the lights came down and Van Morrison took the stage of course he started with a song that was unfamiliar (to me at least). It’s standard concert protocol to start with something fairly weak because you get the boost of the welcoming crowd anyway. Better to save a hit for song number two.
But in this case Van just kept playing songs I didn’t know, and to make it worse we were in one of the few remaining olde-school arenas that were built before anyone considered sound quality a priority, back in the days before venues would drape speakers all over the house for a concert.
Which is to say: the sound was pretty lousy. And with every passing unrecognizable song the temperature in the antique venue just got more and more unbearable. By the time he played something I knew (Wild Night) I was so hot and dehydrated that the only thing that saved me from collapse was the fact that I was basically already collapsed anyway, bored and slumped in my seat sopping with sweat.
There was even an extended chunk in there where Van Morrison left the stage altogether and let his daughter lead the band through a painfully long string of hits not of her father’s making. Sheesh.
I think Shannon managed a good time despite the oppressive heat and her aggressively disgruntled boyfriend, but I walked out of there swearing off of Maple Leaf Gardens as a venue (just in time too, there would be just a few dozen shows left before the Gardens hosted it’s final concert six years later). I don’t remember if I swore off of Van Morrison concerts as well, but if I did it would have been a promise happily broken. Several years later I finally started to appreciate Van Morrison’s greatness and I’ve been fortunate to see him perform twice since then. I enjoyed both concerts immensely and and no wonder…he actually played songs I knew (because now I actually know the songs).
I do remember that after a few starts, stops, and restarts Shannon and I swore off each other. She ended up marrying the brother of my good friend and everyone involved has gone on to live happily ever after. Even Van Morrison, who (as of this writing) is approaching his 79th birthday and still regularly records and performs music.
I guess the only loser is the star of this tale: Maple Leaf Gardens itself, which is now a Loblaws*.
*Okay, there’s a college hockey rink there, but really, it’s a Loblaws. The former centre ice of the world’s most famous hockey house is in aisle freakin’ twenty-five.
Todd Man Out 