I’d started this off as a discursive on Pearl Jam bootlegs–then ran out of inspiration, and gave it up for the night. Instead, I’ve got two time-sensitive points to make:
- Today, Jim Morrison, er, Jeff Martin left the Tea Party, which pretty much means that that’s it for one of the few remaining bands of the mid-90s Canadian rock “revolution” (as it were). I never cared for this band, despite the fact that Martin’s “oot” (or whatever the fuck it was) provided the basis to one of mine and Paul’s #1 all-time punchlines. For that, I lament their demise; for their bombast, their pretentiousness and Jeff Martin’s furrowed brow, I saw “good riddance”. (Jeff Whatley just read that last half-sentence and burst into tears.) Which reminds me: back in 1998, when Jack Irons quit Pearl Jam, Tea Party drummer Jeff Burrows claims he was asked to fill the vacant throne–which contravenes Pearl Jam’s insistence that Matt Cameron was the only drummer they asked to join the band. Since Jeff Burrows isn’t worthy of holding Matt Cameron’s drum sticks, I’ll assume he somehow got misquoted; either that, or he’s a dirty liar.
- Also today, it’s been fourteen years since I saw The Phantom of the Opera for the first time, and I’d still consider it to be the #1 seminal event of my childhood. I resisted the urge to visit the Pantages, er, Canon Theatre today, then drove past it en route to Bri’s house for a late-night shopping excursion. No, this wasn’t planned–and yes, it still felt like the right thing to do. For the record, my original Phantom cast was probably the best I’d ever see: Peter Karrie as the Phantom, Rebecca Caine as Christine, Byron Nease as Raoul (and in case you don’t think I could name the rest of the leads…well, you’re wrong). Also, since we’re talking about it, my seat that night was mezzanine row M, seat 107; if you think I wasn’t sitting in that exact same seat when Phantom played its final Toronto show on October 31, 1999, and that it didn’t require significant haggling with a Ticketmaster employee in order to secure it…well, you’re wrong again.
And you wonder why girls snickered whenever I passed by them in the hallways at Westgate.