As you read in my last post, I became a music fan at an early age. In the years following 1995, my musical sphere expanded exponentially, thanks to the magical apparatus known as satellite TV.
It was January 2001, and my family had just settled in southern Alberta a few short months before. We were thrilled at my parents’ decision to get a satellite dish, and once installed, our eyes grew wide as we stared into a universe of channels and choices. One of those choices was the now barely recognizable MuchMusic. Suddenly, music took on a whole new dimension. It was a feast for the ears AND the eyes. For the awkward and lanky 13-year-old that was me, this was revolutionary. It was like the radio was black and white and this was colour.
For the next five years, my afternoon routine was the same: get home from school, drop my bags and turn on Much. For hours, I would watch music videos, listen to video jockeys banter with each other, and watch interviews with the musicians I deeply admired. This was heaven. It was while watching Much that I was introduced to one of my favourite bands: Alexisonfire.
It was 2004, and the Canadian screamo-punk band had just released its sophomore album, Watch Out! Being the moody, emo teenager that I was, I loved the gut-wrenching screams delivered by George Petit, only to be offset by the soothing, angelic vocals of Dallas Green, who, in 2005, would begin to forge a successful solo career under the stage name City And Colour. Over the next three years, I followed both acts.
As I began college in 2006, life got increasingly busy with classes and new adult responsibilities. Music had shifted to my mind’s background, but it was always there, waiting.
One day, in the spring of 2008, a college classmate heard of my love for City And Colour and told me that a local radio station was giving away two complimentary tickets to a show he would be performing at Lethbridge’s University Theatre. All I had to do was email the station and tell them why I thought I deserved the to go.
Instantly, my heart and mind began to race with excitement. Dallas Green? Here? In Lethbridge? After admiring him from afar for years, there was no way I was going to pass this up. I had to try. At my soonest opportunity, I went to the nearest library, sat down and furiously poured my heart out via email. I explained that I had always been a fan, and if the station was kind enough to give ME the tickets, it would be my very first concert, and my life would be complete. After I hit send, it took less than 10 minutes to get this simple two-word reply: “They’re yours.”
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I just stared at the screen, eyes wide, mouth agape. It was like I had won the lottery. After the shock wore off, I called a my friend Brent, who also happened to be a super fan, and we agreed to go.
Twelve years later, the events of that night are burned into my brain, and I can see it like it was yesterday. Sitting in the very top row of the theatre, looking down on the stage below, entranced by the full-bodied sound bouncing off the walls and into my ears. At one point, the only sound in the auditorium was that of 450 people clapping in rhythm to the melodies we all knew so well. And, just like that, music had suddenly revealed ANOTHER dimension to me: the live experience. This was the new heaven.
After the show, Brent and I made our way toward our car in the theatre's back parking lot. On the way, we ran across members of the opening band Sleepercar, and struck up a conversation. After awhile, one of them told us that Dallas was inside, and if we waited, we might get a chance to meet him. We instantly agreed. How could we not?
We sat outside the theatre doors excitedly for about 45 minutes. During this time, members of Sleepercar would come in and out, telling us that he would hopefully be out soon. Whether this was true or not, we couldn’t be sure. But, we had come this far, and what better to do at 1 a.m. on a warm May evening?
As news of our intentions grew, a small crowd of other concertgoers began gathering with us. We chatted excitedly among ourselves, completely unaware of how crazy we looked. We were lost in the moment.
Suddenly, a figure rounded the corner of the building and emerged from the darkness. It was him. Right in front of us. He greeted us with a surprisingly casual “Hi, I’m Dallas.” With that, we introduced ourselves, spewed the usual “we’re big fans” line, to which he responded with class, grace and kindness. He would spend the next 45 minutes in conversation with us, answering our many questions, and asking his own, as if he genuinely cared. We talked about the tattoos on his knuckles, the fact that I shared his hometown of St. Catherine's Ontario, and joked about me being a cyborg thanks to the large amount of metal in my body (another story for another day).
After a while, he asked me if I wanted an official City and Colour t-shirt. After I replied with what was probably a little-too-eager “yes!” he disappeared, soon re-emerging with two choices, telling me to take my pick. I picked a flowery design on a white background, and he proceeded to sign the back with the only words possible, given my ramblings that night. I still have that t-shirt today, hanging in my closet, rarely worn to preserve the special message it contains.
Finally, he would spend our last few minutes together posing for group photos and signing Alexisonfire albums we had.
During our encounter, I remember Dallas being laser-focused, listening and sharing with genuine enjoyment. He even offered to assist Brent with getting me back into our car. He was kind and humble: a true Canadian. Because of this, it was one of the most memorable and wonderful nights of my life. Coming face-to-face with an artist I spent years listening to had added yet another amazing dimension to my musical love affair.
After that, I was bitten by the concert bug, and have been fortunate enough to attend more than 20 concerts in the past 12 years, including City And Colour twice more.
Although we never met again, I can’t help but wonder if he remembers the skinny cyborg whose life he changed all those years ago. If he does, I hope his memories are as great as mine.
Have you ever met someone famous? Comment below!