Massey Hall is perfect. Why fix it?
If something is perfect why change it?
Massey Hall is a living legend. It is a breathing antique. If you have a valuable antique, the patina is part of its value. If you refinish it, it loses its value. For me, visiting Massey Hall was always like visiting your eccentric, dowager aunt. So what if the load-in was a little awkward and the crew mumbled and grumbled? For me, that was always part of its charm. But the room itself was flawless. Why change that? Why change timeless perfection?
I keep on hearing about the stained glass windows that are going to be restored to their previous glory. But that sounds like a huckster’s con. We are suckers for shiny trinkets. And removable floor seats — are you kidding me? Massey Hall has been the best room in Canada for 124 years. Doesn’t that mean anything? Playing in that room, looking out across the floor, to the two balconies that are so close you can almost touch them, the over-lacquered red walls and black poles? This room stands in witness and testament to all the greats who have performed on its stage.
Performing in Massey Hall is a dream. All shows should be that great. It is intimate and transcendent. I know I’m a stick in the mud, but there is something arrogant about these prophets of change with their hollow reassurances and encouraging smiles that betray the faded elegance of this Victorian mansion. A big part of the charm of the gig was to sit in those old dressing rooms (which have already been demolished) and to know that all the greats had sat in those same rooms. From Miles to Dylan, Neil to Dizzy, Coltrane to Gord, sitting in those quirky dressing rooms, sipping a cocktail or getting high before a show — that was as much a part of the gig as anything. That sense of arriving, the “if these walls could talk” vibe. The backstage was as much a part of the show as anything.
Don’t get me wrong. I love the programming that Jesse Kumagai has introduced the last few years. Of having newer bands double-billed for more affordable shows. Bills expanding accessibility to the room for audience and bands.
But there will be something missing in the years to come. I wonder if it will be as amazing as promised. I don’t see how you can improve on perfection. The visit to the old eccentric aunt with her outdated manner and custom, her eccentric ways, her dusty furniture, her quirky rooms and manners, and so, as it is said: all things must pass.
But I for one am very sad to see this high-collared anachronism go through the indignity of a modern makeover in the name of profit and progress.