In July of 2013 Lydia's Pub in Saskatoon closed its doors forever. It was a sad day for Saskatoon, and a huge loss for the local music community. I had recently moved to the Broadway area, and Lydia's was one of the main contributors to that decision. It closed on a Monday, and I was scheduled to perform at Open Mic Night the day after. I was crushed.
The next day, July 30th, Melissa Gan and I, who comprise the musical duo Wolfen Rabbits, helped to organize a jam on the red benches just outside of Lydia's, and our friends gathered for an informal acoustic jam. People brought guitars and drums, violin and cello, and we sang songs that people kind of knew, and everyone had a great time. Someone brought candles, and it turned into a vigil of sorts.
Nobody was in charge. Nobody hosted or told people what song to play. Someone would start playing, and those who knew the song joined in. It was a community of musicians gathering to say goodbye to a place that we had played at so many times before, and we were determined to have a great night. And when people saw the gathering, they would stop by to chat, or would park their cars and join us. "Open Sidewalk" at Lydia's was a wonderful success.
It was a sad night. And yet I assert that it was the most satisfying Open Mic Night at Lydia's that I have ever attended. We didn't need the building to have an amazing time. We needed instruments and people, and a reason to get together and remember of all of the good times we had in that building.
After some efforts to look into saving the building, it was announced that the Farnham Block that housed Lydia's will be torn down. And many people are upset about this, and I understand that. It has been a place to gather for so many years in this city, and it is where so many of us have made friendships and lasting memories that will carry us long into old age.
But let's not pretend that the venue was a model pub or venue. The unkempt washrooms ensured a balanced ratio of urine-to-stale-beer stench. The layout of the bar in relation to the stage was impractical at best. I'm convinced that they never cleaned their taps, because every beer on tap tasted awful. (I have yet to experience an Alexander Keith's pint that tasted that bad.) And I'm sure most of us have been terrified at the prospect of trying to unsoberly navigate the Stairs of Death. It was not a clean place, nor a well-designed pub, and it would be unreasonable to pretend that it was simply because they're tearing it down.
I think it is important for not to let our nostalgia falsely romanticize a really awful building. It's not the building we will remember about Lydia's. I don't remember having good times with the bricks, or the stairs, or the dirty floor or soapless washroom or the bottleneck between the bar and the stage. We're forgetting why the numerable crappy things about Lydia's were worth tolerating.
What made Lydia's an amazing place to go was the people of Saskatoon, and the incredible music and arts community that gathered within those walls. But those walls don't make us who we are; we make those walls what they are. It was always what those walls contained that made the difference. Those people are still here in the city, playing music, reciting poetry, and there will always be new places to gather. Losing the building will not wipe our memories, nor will it affect our ability to make new memories with the people who are still around.
I am as sad as anyone about the loss of Lydia's, and some of my fondest memories of Saskatoon occurred within its dirty walls. But I refuse to grieve for bricks and wood while the people that made that space matter are still around me, every day, doing what they did, just somewhere else. Let's remember that the spirit of Lydia's was us, the people of Saskatoon, who on the corner that day in July made music together and had a wonderful time. And we didn't need a run-down building to make those lasting memories with one another. We just needed each other.
0 comments:
Post a Comment