More than a decade ago, I was in the eighth grade during what I like to call my “grunge years.” My friends and I shopped at vintage stores, dyed our hair pink with bingo-dabbers, and listened to the coolest-of-the-cool Canadian underground indie and grunge music, usually in cassette form. Like other “grunge muffins” living in the Niagara Region in the nineties, we swooned and melted to homemade mix tapes, we head-bopped and swayed to acoustic singer-songwriters, we moshed and thrashed to local rock bands, we smoked DuMaurier cigarettes, and got into bars and live music venues with our older siblings’ fake IDs.
Things weren’t much different then. Going to see live music was pretty much the reason for every weekend outing. And one particularly cold wintry night was definitely a special one. My friends and I were off to The Hideaway Club (which has since closed down, R.I.P) via a ride from my mom. But this time, I told my mom to drop us off a block from the venue so the “older kids” couldn’t see me get out of her Chevy Cavalier. Hipster teenagers were lined up down the parking lot waiting to get inside to sneak a peak at Hayden – one of the biggest artists coming out of the Toronto area at the time. He had just released his album, Everything I Long For, through his own independent label Hardwood Records, and young indie kids had been going wild for his throaty, depressing moans and acoustic guitar and piano melodies.
The Hideaway was packed and after fighting through a few chilled-out acoustic songs over top of a loud audience, Hayden made everyone sit on the floor, a common request from the folkie singer-songwriter. With candles lit on the stage, Hayden silenced the rowdy crowd with his soulful, true to the heart, catchy tunes. I left the show hours later with a smile, and like every other night, went home to listen to my favorite track from the album, Bad As They Seem, over and over again on my ghetto-blaster while reading the lyrics from the CD booklet insert. Ah, the life of a teen.
Flash forward to now, 2008.
Hayden is coming to play a show in Melbourne, Australia, where I’m currently living. I venture down to the Northcote Social Club with two other Canadians-in-Oz Hayden fans. We’re riding the Smith Street tram, feeling giddy like little school girls. We arrive far too early and are feeling a bit too eager. There wasn’t a lengthy queue of teenagers like the time before. But, instead a large group of twenty-something music lovers filed in quietly with beer in hand, and instantly sat on the floor, as if they already knew the drill.
After a short opening set by Hayden’s Aussie friend Jonathon West, the acoustic superstar came out on stage. People listened quietly, occasionally singing along to old classics like We Don’t Mind and Street Car. Switching between guitar and piano, Hayden added in clever little antidotes that reflected his calmness and comfort of being on stage. More than ten years and nearly ten albums later, Hayden’s sound was more mature; his songs more complex, artistic, and unique. We were was enthralled.
Pre-show, I chatted with Hayden about our hometowns and The Hideaway. “Ah yeah, The Hideaway was a great venue,” he said. He told me that he used to drive his car all over Canada, playing songs and selling his records, each one produced and recorded independently (and still are). “Times have changed though,” Hayden sighed as he glanced around at the dimly-lit dive bar. “I don’t usually play these small rock clubs anymore.” This short Oz tour was added in to a pre-planned personal holiday to Sydney. And upon his return to the Great White North, he’ll be going on a major tour of the U.S opening up for fellow Canadian indie superstar, Feist.
So, all of his hard work has paid off. Perhaps when I see Hayden ten years from now, he’ll be at Neil Young status. Either way, I’m sure his audience will continue to sit in silence on the floor, listening intently.
