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Waiting for the final round of the #HRDerby to begin and — apart from dealing with the soul-crushing angst generated by that fact — I’ve just been reminded that Bryan Adams is in town...
I’ve seen him three or four times but I’ll never forget the first. Back in the pre-internet I’d make long lists of song titles before going to review shows, just so I’d get them right (hell hath no fury like a super fan slighted by a critic’s ignorance)...
If I was running late and hadn’t prepped, I’d stop at a Polo Park record store to jot down at least a few titles and then hope the tunes were played...
Anyway, I had this long list in my notebook, then Adams took the stage and I didn’t need to refer to it other than to check punctuation or apostrophes.
I realized I knew every song and almost every word to every song — and I didn’t own an Adams album. If you listened to FM rock radio in Canada in the ‘80s, you knew Bryan Adams’ songs, too, without even realizing you knew them.
Canadian content regulations helped, of course. But his stuff was consistently catchy, album after album (quick, name more than two Hineymoon Suite tunes off the top of your head) and he was legitimately a worldwide star. He played Live Aid in Philly in ‘85, remember.
Then, of course, Waking Up the Neighbours ran afoul of MAPL rules (interviewing Bruce Allen at the time was kind of like pitching to these home run hitters — one question and he was off for 20 minutes with great stuff) but by that time it didn’t matter.
That album went five, six singles deep. Everywhere. While I’ve never loved Adams, I’ve always respected that amazing 10-to-15-year run he had. I bet everyone at the rink tonight knows every song title, too. Even those who only went because they ‘had to’.
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