18 April 2007
Opera House, Toronto
Ah, the sun has come out, and it's all spring-like and optimistic.
Driving a tour bus full of equipment across the border is always a slightly stressful exercise, since Immigration Officials can be known to be extremely officious, and bands tend to have a poor reputation when it comes to organisation and paperwork. But they let us in again.
The papers are all saying that Toronto has run completely out of money. You can't tell. It has the same cosmopolitan, but slightly shambly feel as ever.
The gig is a lovely old theatre, one of those rooms where the sound changes completely between the soundcheck and the show because people come in and cover up the nasty concrete floor. Jim discovers it's hard to hold down the bass part while having a sneezing fit. The audience is excellent, it all just feels very short, like our little journey should go a bit further.
After the show I get the ultimate accolade, when one of the stage hands says he didn't realise I was in the band. "I thought you were Crew, man," he says. I am finally recognised for carrying things like a Professional. It is the proudest moment of my career.
Jim says: "A little backward on the nose; some fresh acidity, but rather hollow, with dry - if not dusty - tannins on the finish".
