Canada Day in Trafalgar Square
2008-07-15

After living in England for 3 years, I figured it was about time I attended the annual Canada Day festival in Trafalgar square. It had been ages since I had done anything Canada-ey.

I am not a particularly patriotic person, so these government-funded, sickly-sweet "Hooray for Canada" parties usually make me want to retch, but I was desperate. I wanted to get filled to the brim with the hot, hot Canadian goodness and I was willing to put up with almost any cheesy Canadian act to get it.

The English know surprisingly little about Canada, but, one consistent stereotype I hear is that we’re boring. Nothing gets my goat more than that. We’re not boring! We’re into hockey, the roughest sport there is! We drink like fish! We riot during the playoffs! Hell, we even club seals! If there’s one thing we’re not, it’s boring. Morrissey won’t even tour Canada because we are so cruel and barbaric, that’s got to count for something, right?!

I was in a pub just down the road from Trafalgar square imbibing in a pre-festival pint when in walked the first four Canadians I had seen in months. They had side partings, were dressed in polo shirts and khakis and were talking about web design. "Do you have a wheat beer?" the guy asks the bartender. Christ.

The party this year spanned over 2 days with a show (called "Canada Rocks" – ugh) on the evening of the 30th and a full day’s festivities on the 1st that included Canadian music, Canadian beer, Canadian cultural events and a street hockey tournament. "Maybe it won’t be so bad after all", I think to myself, "Maybe this will change those limey’s minds about us being boring. Hopefully, we’ll get really drunk and trash the place".

The first thing that greets me when I walk in are two giant video screens with pro-Alberta slogans splashed across sweeping shots of the Rockies. Aw, I say to my friend Alison, "that’s cool, they’re going through all the provinces showing what each has to offer, that’s a good idea". The Rockies are then replaced by visions of the Alberta badlands and I think, "Wow, that’s where I’M from!" And then pictures of Banff. And then Calgary. and Edmonton. Hmmm, that’s weird, they don’t seem to be featuring any of the other provinces at all.

The Canada Rocks show starts with Canada’s second favourite young CBC presenter, Jian Ghomeshi and a very nervous politician extolling the virtues of all that Canada, I mean Alberta, has to offer. Now, I get as much pleasure out of watching Torontonian Jian Ghomeshi being forced to big up my home province through gritted teeth as much as the next Albertan, but isn’t this thing supposed to be about Canada? There are still 10 provinces aren’t there? Maybe I HAVE been away too long.

I have not heard a lot of Canadian music since I moved across the pond as the English radio stations over here tend not to play anything other than Avril Levigne or Nickelback, and to say I’m not a fan of either would be a touch understated. You’d be closer to the mark if you said I’d rather take an icepick to my frontal lobe than listen to either of them. Chad Kroeger makes me want to stab things.

I can however, get behind a good Canadian folk act so I was excited when I was told that the first act, the McDades, would satisfy my folk-jones. It’s not Ashley MacIsaac, but hopefully they’re another lively Cape Breton act that can get the crowd jumping. They weren’t. They were from Alberta and they were about as exciting as athlete’s foot. Don’t get me wrong, there is some great Alberta roots music, Corb Lund and Lorrie Matheson are just two of a whole host of great acts, but no one does fiddle-folk like the Cape Bretoners. The McDades did not even come close.

Jesse Cook was up next and I had actually heard of him and his apparently outrageous guitar skills. Surely, he’ll be the one to put a foot in the mouths of the limeys! Wrong. Instead of the kickass rock I expected, Jesse Cook treated us to an acoustic guitar wank, the likes of which would have given a Steve Vai or Yanni fan action in the pants. Music more suited to an Air Canada safety movie than on an outdoor stage in the middle of London.

The Trews were next and I KNEW they were a rock band. I hadn’t heard their music before, but I had heard of THEM, surely they’d get the party started. They walked on stage and immediately I wanted to start stabbing things. "That’s odd" I think to myself, Chad Kroeger isn’t on stage is he? They started into their latest single, Paranoid Freak and the singer starts doing that horrible Kroeger-like "growly-push" singing during the chorus. You know, the kind of singing that sounds like he’s in the midst of a particularly painful bowel movement.

I was feeling pretty depressed at that point. I wasn’t feeling very Canada-ey at all. The poutine stand had run out of cheese, the buffalo burger I had just eaten was repeating on me, the only Canadian beer they had on tap was warm Moosehead and Nickelback junior were on stage.

I was just about to write the whole festival off and get on the train back to Nottingham when I saw this as Kathleen Edwards went on stage:

I stopped in my tracks, turned and demanded a photo. Not only did they agree to have their photo taken by some drunk Canadian blogger, but they also flashed the two biggest, cheesiest Canadian grins I have ever seen. God Bless ‘em.

I don’t remember their names and didn’t get them to sign anything (so if this you, please don’t sue me), but in a flash they made me feel Canadian again. If a Nordiques fan and a Flames fan can get together, then there is hope for us all.

Nothing was going to stop me from enjoying the rest of that festival. Not being called a hick by some Calgarian after she found out I was from Brooks, not the bloody "Canadian Tenors" on stage, Not even the five douchebags in red shirts at the gate the following day screaming "Gimme a high-five if you’re from CANADA!" could wipe the smile off my face.

We may be a hopelessly boring lot, with nothing to offer but cheesy fries, bland rock and maple-glazed doughnuts, rolling through life with idiotic grins tattooed to our faces, but after living amongst the limeys for three years, I can say with great pride that it could be a helluva lot worse.

We could be English.