On a night when Metallica thundered in Toronto, the real heavy metal — the kind forged from blood, sweat, and the purest Canadian rock spirit — was roaring in Kitchener. Over 4,000 fans packed the Kitchener Memorial Auditorium not just to see a show, but to become part of a living, breathing piece of rock history.
Headpins opened the evening like a lit match tossed onto dry brush. Celebrating 45 years of turning it loud, the band unleashed an electric set that made it crystal clear: this wasn’t some nostalgia trip — it was a defiant battle cry. Kat Lawrence, with a decade of pipes honed for this very mission, commanded the stage while Anthony DellaCroce wrestled powerful riffs out of Brian MacLeod’s resurrected red Fender Strat — a guitar with its own mythos. Alfie Galpin, a 28-year veteran of the Headpins’ lineup, anchored the sound with layers of keyboards and rhythm guitar, while charter members Ab Bryant and Bernie Aubin weren’t just keeping time — they were time itself, tying the past to the now with every pulse.

When April Wine took over, it was less like the changing of bands and more like the passing of a torch in some sacred rock ceremony. Marc Parent, chosen by the late Myles Goodwyn himself, strapped on Myles’ guitar — an instrument that seemed to hum with memory — and sang with a grace that turned loss into something beautiful. Whether launching into “Roller” or tenderly shaping “Just Between You and Me,” April Wine sounded urgent, alive, and larger than memory.

Then, the house lights dropped again, and it happened: the unmistakable sound of Bachman-Turner Overdrive pulling into gear.
Randy Bachman, at 81, didn’t just show up — he showed everyone how it’s done. Seated on a stool, he looked like a grand chessmaster of rock, calmly moving pieces across the board, all while conjuring the primal spirit of an entire generation. Each musician stood atop their own area rug like it was a launch pad, with KoKo Bachman — Tal Bachman’s wife and the band’s fearless new drummer — delivering a performance that smashed any preconceived notions. She played not like a “new addition,” but like she’d been born with drumsticks in her hands.

Behind them, a massive portrait screen cycled through images of BTO’s storied past, as if the music itself was bending time, showing us where we came from and where we were going. When Randy shouted to the crowd, “Looks like we got a house full of rockers tonight!” you could feel the floor vibrate with pride.
One moment that cemented the night into legend: Randy introducing “Not Fragile” with a grin, saying, “In England they call it heavy metal… with an accent. In Canada, we call it heavy metal… with a Canadian accent, eh?”
The stage detonated. It was heavy. It was proud. It was ours.
Another flash of pure magic came when the band dove into a Guess Who tribute set — Randy reminding everyone that before BTO, there was a little high school band that changed everything. When Tal launched into his own hit “She’s So High,” the crowd became a swirling sea of voices, lifting the song into the rafters. It was a heartfelt nod to legacy, the past and future folding together like pages in the same book.

And just when you thought the energy had peaked, Randy cracked a mischievous smile and said, “Time for the surprise.”
Cue an avalanche of rock classics: “You Shook Me All Night Long,” “Satisfaction,” “Old Time Rock and Roll” — an encore that felt less like a setlist and more like crashing a private jam session thrown by the gods of rock themselves.
“We’re your backup band now!” Randy roared. “This is your party!”

The night closed the only way it could: with the eternal anthem “Takin’ Care of Business,” a song that felt less like a hit and more like a living national treasure. Arms were raised, voices shredded, faces shining with sweat and joy. BTO wasn’t just taking care of business — they were taking care of all of us.
Bachman-Turner Overdrive














