There was a guy who worked as a roadie in the early days. He was a friend of the bass player’s. He liked this position probably because it came with some power. He was from a more difficult upbringing than the rehearsed sneers and torn jean jacket wearing leaders of the group. If graduating from  upper canada college means street cred, they were rolling in it. The job entailed delivering the equipment, setting up the equipment, being around during the show to respond to any problems, from a broken guitar string to an inebriated fan. There was a dead-fish-eyes-look in people who had heroin problems, he had those eyes. At a certain point he was let go,  disposable, even though the success of the group could not have happened without people like him providing all the rescues and fixes and extra help they did. He was on call 24/7.