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On July 14th, 1996 I woke up from a fairly decent sleep in my little tent and greeted the day. I was at Mosport Speedway, about a half-hour west of Peterborough and it was the final day of a short-lived three-day festival called Eden Fest.
I had arrived the day before with some forgotten acquaintance’s girlfriend; I had traded a free ride to and from the festival in exchange for a free ticket. Shortly after I stretched and started my day her tent started to rustle and soon she and her new ‘friend’ emerged and sheepishly started their own days.
The guy left in pretty short order leaving just me, my friend’s girl, and a giant elephant at our campsite. It was pretty uncomfortable with the three of us squished into such a small space so I didn’t stick around much longer either.
I strolled the festival grounds with nothing to do and still somehow managed to miss Ani DiFranco’s set. Perhaps I just skipped it thinking I could see her anytime which would have been pretty dumb. I think I’ve only ever seen her once.
I did catch some (all?) of Catherine Wheel but that has become irrelevant, as I don’t remember anything about it. I can recall bits and pieces of Howard Jones’ set, which was quite good. My ticket binder tells me that I also saw the Doughboys (remember Shine?), James Hall, Pluto, Goo Goo Dolls, and the Spin Doctors, who I actually remember a little bit.
But the highlight of the evening was The Mighty Mighty Bosstones even though once again I can recall just a small portion of their set. But what I do remember was awesome:
Halfway through their set the Mighty Mighties played a killer note-for-note cover of Spirit Of Radio by Rush (I’m pretty sure it was Spirit Of Radio. There’s a tiny chance it was Closer To The Heart…no, it was definitely Spirit Of Radio). Of course, anyone that knows me knows I am a huge Rush fan, and to hear such a well-played one-song tribute to my boys at a festival that was virtually in their backyard…well, we were all Rush fans for about six minutes (not the girls of course…) and it was awesome.
It was certainly much more awesome than the drive back to Ottawa the next morning after another night of immoral tryst, during which my passenger spent the entire four-hour journey awkwardly begging me not to tell her boyfriend on her. I don’t remember what I told her, or whether I told whomever her boyfriend was, and I don’t care.
It was a ride-for-ticket deal; no reason for me to get snared into some ethical house of mirrors but still I’d like to apologize either to him for not mentioning that he was dating a cheating hussy or to her for being a rat. I now officially wash my hands of the whole affair.
Pun intended.
Todd Man Out 