In the middle of the new documentary, Nash the Slash Rises Again!, a former roadie describes how anyone alternative was treated by the rockers and rednecks of 1970s and 80s Toronto: “They’d call you fags!”
Never mind that the abusers were wearing Queen t-shirts and adored Judas Priest: for a gay violinist interested in drum machines and horror movies, being near the Canadian mainstream was a potential hazard.
It’s no wonder, therefore, that people ask whether Jeff Plewman adopted his Nash the Slash persona as a way to disguise himself. On the evidence considered by the producers of the film, the best answer is no. Plewman created Nash to embody his love of old horror movies and bring forward the imagery. He wasn’t hiding himself; he was using himself to keep the flame burning for “the children of the night.” If breeder bullies didn’t like it, then too bad for them.
That helps to explain Nash’s appeal to outsiders: the man in the bandages was one of them. A one-man band, armed with keyboards, mandolins, drum machines, and violins, all channelled through guitar pedals – Nash avoided guitars and eschewed the cliches of North American rock. He performed covers of The Who, Rolling Stones, and Jan & Dean, but subverted them with his unique set of side-chains.
The documentary features contributions by Gary Numan (who discovered Nash by chance and immediately invited him on tour), Steve Hillage (who produced an album for him), Youth (who played shows with Killing Joke, on the same bill), and Danielle Dax. There are also stories from close associates, including lyricist Toby Dammit and Plewman’s brother. The picture that emerges is a complex one: Nash blew everyone’s minds with his creativity; but Plewman could be volatile (and sometimes violent). The film doesn’t shy away from addressing this dialectical relationship.
There are plenty of Toronto celebrities to spot in the clips found by the producers: Sam Sniderman, J. D. Roberts, Michael Williams, Jeanie Becker, Robert Vanderhorst, and Valerie Buhagiar all get cameos. The most Canadian thing in the story, however, comes near the end of the film: a friend of Plewman’s describes breaking into his living space and drinking the last of his beers.
The film includes a library of material from Nash’s live shows to feast on. Bathed in psychedelic lights, or backed by movies, Nash knew how to perform at the highest level. He was a perfectionist who demanded perfection from others. When they didn’t measure up, he let them know. That made him a difficult person to get to know; but, through his work and the memories of his cohort, Nash the Slash Rises Again! goes a long way to address that.
The film is a masterful music documentary. It is clearly a labour of love, brought to the screen by the affection of the outsiders and misfits Nash collected and inspired – in his life and in his art.