photos courtesy of Deb Doucette
In 1995, Jed Rached had a dream.
He wanted to put together a band, but not any band. He envisioned a big hall filled with horns, keys, flaming guitars, and ear-rattling percussion.
Sitting quietly onstage with a couple of sidemen wailing the same old blues tunes over and over just wasn't his style.
Jed Rached wasn't just a blues guy. He was a showman.
He talked his idea over with a friend who worked at a local arts newspaper, The Xpress, who listened seriously.
"All you have to do is arranged the gig," the friend said. "The musicians will follow."
So Jed set a date and called up a couple of well known bands, The Hammerheads and the Black Boot Trio. They agreed to let Jed and his band, Rocket Rached and the Fat City Four, warm up for them.
It was all arranged.
Trouble was, the band in his head had never played in front of an audience before.
So he called in a favour at Barrymore's, Ottawa's legendary music hall, and got a spot a month ahead of the big show. He had a couple of weeks of rehearsal with a gaggle of musician friends including The Mighty Popo, an amazing guitarist.
On April 6, the night of the show, Popo called in sick right before the show. He offered up Steve Lauder in his place, and Jed's debut was set. He was nervous, fearing failure.
What else could go wrong?
When he got to Barrymore's, he couldn't believe his eyes. The musicians kept coming in -- 16 in all -- and the band that went on stage had five horns and a five-piece string section.
As Jed liked to tell it, that was the end of the Fat City Four.
The band was renamed the Fat City Eight, and went on to play for more than two decades. It was always fun to guess how many musicians would show up, since the number varied from show to show.
The guys came because they loved Jed. He was a guy who always had their backs.
Before starting his big band, Jed had been a sound man about town, a promoter and one of the founders of the Ottawa Blues Society. He could be found mixing the sound at every festival in town for years. It's where I first met Jed, at the Ottawa Bluesfest when Scott and I were making our documentary, Carnival of the Blues.
He was also a fixture at the Rainbow and Irene's for years hosting the open mic nights, and promoting the talents of many, many musicians who cut their teeth working these jams.
Jed was the size of a big old black bear, but he had the heart of lion. He was smart, sweet, and always rarin' to go.
That heart stopped yesterday, just a couple of weeks after he celebrated his 55th birthday at a big blowout at Irene's.
Jed had been sick for a few years but never lost his enthusiasm and optimism.
I last saw him a few months back when I responded to his plea for a new cell phone.
He'd been a bit down on his luck, and was really feeling the blues, but he had an ever-ready smile, and a bear hug for me.
Maybe he couldn't stand the thought of no festivals, no people, and no hugs.
Maybe he needed to find a new gig in a place where pandemics didn't matter.
In any case, Jed Rached will be missed.
Carry on, my wayward son. For there'll be peace when you are done.
Lay your weary head to rest.
Don't you cry no more.
Comments
Post a Comment