Canada, again, People.
The shows at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre in Toronto were great. It’s a weird venue. It seems very late sixties, early seventies. Not much personality to the place and kind of musty. Slightly modern haunted vibe. More abandoned than haunted actually.
I had played there before but it took me a minute to put that together. When I saw the stage I knew. I had a vague recollection of a struggle on stage. A small one that I’m sure only I noticed but I just remember not being totally keyed in.
I corrected that this time. On it.
The highpoint of the festival for me was sharing the venue with Maria Bamford. We alternated showtimes over the two nights. She went early the first night and I was able to watch her whole set. More than able, I got there early to do so. I’ve always loved watching her. I hadn’t seen her work in years. It is so inspired and deep and purely funny. There really isn’t anyone like her and there is no one doing comedy better. She is above and beyond anyone currently doing standup. Or even anyone in the last decade. It was a real treat to watch her and get the deep laughs in.
Flying out of LA I was in the Air Canada lounge. It’s not great. There isn’t much there but it’s quiet. While I was getting some food at the buffet I noticed an older guy at the coffee machine who looked familiar. It didn’t take long for me to realize it was Stewart Copeland, the drummer for The Police. I know the band’s music. I was there when it started. That first record was great and so were a few others. I wasn’t a huge fan because they all seemed so affected and pompous. Annoying. Sting. Andy. All of them. Stewart seemed to have resting bitch being. Though his soundtrack for the film Rumblefish was amazing. I’m sure he’s done a lot of amazing work. He still annoys me and I didn’t want to say ‘hi’ or ‘big fan’ or ‘that Rumblefish soundtrack was great.' I just watched him drink his coffee with his face.
A woman came over and said something to him. He got up and she walked him over to someone. A little-ish man with a bucket hat, mask and sunglasses on with a little man bun poking out of the back of the hat. He had a guitar case with him. They hugged and took selfies but I couldn’t make out who the guy was.
While waiting to get on the plane at the gate I realized the guy in the hat was Geddy Lee of Rush. Now, I grew up with Rush. There was no way to avoid Rush in my teen years. I was not a Rush guy. I have said as much for years. Though after I watched the doc about them there was really no way for me to not, at the very least, respect them. True originals.
So, again. I was in an awkward position. I didn’t want to say anything to him because it would be disingenuous. I didn’t want to take a selfie because I don’t really do that. So, I just looked at him when I got on the plane and watched two flight attendants try to strap his bass into a seat. Yes, it has its own seat. We were both in first, as was the bass.
He was directly in front of me walking off the plane so I took a pic of the back of his head. After thinking about it hard and wondering if it was intrusive and wrong I decided it was funny and I posted it on IG with a somewhat snarky paragraph about it. I did give Mr. Lee the praise and respect he deserved. He responded in the comments! I shared a story with him about the time I worked for a caterer that catered the Rush show in Albuquerque in the late seventies. Alex requested a fan for his dressing room so my boss sent me a half hour away to his house to get him a fan. I resented the whole band since.
Geddy responded again and thanked me for Alex. It was all very funny.
Today I have a pretty amazing, fast-paced talk with Tony Gilroy about Michael Clayton… and other stuff. On Thursday I talk to Jann Wenner about Rolling Stone magazine and music and cultural stuff. Great talks.
Enjoy!
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
Love,
Maron
Its Own Seat.
