In a few weeks, I’ll be going to my first show in nearly two years (Mr. Powers at the Dom for NYE). I’m thrilled. Jazzed. Ecstatic. Live shows have been my lifeblood since I was at least fourteen. Nearly every weekend, my friend’s mom would drive us out of suburbia and into the city so we could participate in the then-thriving Ottawa ska scene. A scene which, unfortunately, seems to be pretty dead now. It’s also one that I’ve been yearning for lately, more than I have in years.

I keep thinking about the scene around 2008. Checkered belts and wack haircuts were the style of the week. In the grungy bars of Ottawa, we were having the time of our lives. There was Mavericks on Rideau—still alive and well—with Café Dekcuf upstairs (read the second word backwards, great name). There was the occasional show at Babylon—a favourite club of mine with a now uncertain future. I can’t forget the iconic Rainbow Bistro—which my parents remember going to. Last but not least, there was The New Bayou.

We spent more time at The New Bayou than any other venue. (Its name was apt when I think about how slippery the floor got from the amount of sweat from the audience, ew.) The now-dressed-up basement that is home to House of Targ is such a different landscape than its predecessor. The lighting was abysmal, there were ratty couches—that we probably shouldn’t have sat on—where you could occasionally catch a punk taking a nap (during shows), and all they had for food was microwaved popcorn (but were really cool about bringing your own food in.) We saw acts from near and far play shows put on by local icon, Ska Jeff (a nickname he could never really shake off).

Unfortunately, I was a broke teen at the time. I couldn’t afford the CDs on the merch tables. So, I don’t have a solid portion of the soundtrack of my youth. Fortunately for me, YouTube was already pretty well established, and every friend group had at least one digital camera between them. Thanks to this, small pieces can be found of the local scene, suspended in time.

The Bad News Bears, The Dirty 30s, Tea for the Voyage (Kingston), One Night Band (Montreal), Danny Rebel and the KGB (Montreal) and my personal favourite, The Living Sound System—all popped into memory as I dusted off the ska files in my head. The upbeats, the glorious walking basslines and the sound of brass horns just lift me up when I think of them. Ska is, to be cheesy here, summer in music form. There are the sunny, happy days, and the muggy, dogdays of summer.

And then there was the dancing. For songs that leaned more on the punk side of things, we moshed, but for those classic ska songs—we engaged in a dance called skanking. (Yes, it’s a funny name at first.) I’ve been to plenty of Ottawa shows of other genres where the audience just stood there, too self-conscious to dance, to even sway too much. That was never an issue at a ska show. We danced the nights away. Everyone danced the night away. Yeah, the first time you went to a show, you felt a bit like an idiot—trying to coordinate your arms and legs and look cool doing it isn’t always easy. But the community was so positive and supportive, you forgot that foolishness with ease and just went for it.

I’ve rarely felt that same energy at any other type of show here, barring raves, and now I’m craving it. I miss the ska scene. I miss the energy and good vibes. And I want to figure out how to get that back, or get something new. So, to play on a Fall Out Boy song title: do your part to save the scene and start going to shows (when we can, you know, given the whole pandemic)—but it looks like it’s already on the way back.

Tess

Tess is a long time attender of live music, from someone’s basement with questionable fire safety to sleeping in a muddy field for a week with tens of thousands of others- and questionable fire safety. Her favourite sport right now is parkour.