Well, I was going to travel to Truro, my hometown, this weekend for the One Horse Town concert, that the town has won for being, well, an empty town devoid of excitement and decent entertainment. I grew up there and remember when we had a nice little nightlife complete with local bands, several venues and a young demographic that had the streets very safely full of people wandering around having a good time.
Those days are gone. The dissolve of the 1990s grunge music and hippyish kids moved on and left town with the "out west" exodus, that left the town of Truro in a downward spiral. I made several attempts to put together great bands in the area, but nobody would show. For years I've said Truro needs to shut down a piece of town for a party once in the summer, an evening concert. A festival as per Liverpool's Privateer Days or something. But nothing. The Dutch Mason Blues Festival brought back some life to the area but when that left there was nothing—back to sleepy old boring Truro.
Forty years almost of my life in that town failing at trying to start an artistic scene to no avail. I moved to Halifax with the encouragement of friends who work in film in the city. Within three months, I was acting background on three of the major productions being filmed here—a film, music videos, a few commercials—and even had a few things I wrote put in the paper.
So, with my new found love of journalism, I figured I'd trip up to my little hometown and check out the street party scene as I'm not a fan of country music. It's the crowds I like. I want to see the excitement and debauchery of the audience, the wildness. They shut down parts of the streets for this party—a great idea—and I went about asking Facebook friends for details.
It wasn't long before I got a comment about how this was a concert for Truro not Halifaxonians. Well, there you have it. That pompous, world-revolves-around-you Truro attitude that I've encountered so much in my past. You got a concert put on for you by a beer company out of pity for being the most desolate, boring shit-hole in the country and your citizens have the nerve to be snotty about a journalist from the city wanting to do a nice story on your townsfolk? Well, I'm a son of a bitch, an asshole who doesn't give a fuck about that town anymore. I left for a reason. And my little story on your town turned out a bit different, didn't it. —Maybe Not