By Lionel Beehner

OH, OH CANADA! Pride was abundant on Sunday, and not just among gays. Canada Day was celebrated in Central Park, despite the fact that Canada Day isn't officially until Thursday, July 1. Our northern neighbors celebrate their independence three days before Americans do, while Canadians in America celebrate their independence four days before the Canadians in Canada celebrate theirs.

Confusing, yes, but of little consequence to the hundreds partying along with their favorite bands from the Great White North. The concert—billed as the "annual musical birthday party for our music-loving neighbors to the North"—was sponsored by the Dutch beer Heineken, and the grub served was American: hamburgers, fries, Coke. The crowd though, as courteous as Ritz-Carlton bellhops, was decidedly Canadian.

"Welcome to Canada Day!" said a peppy girl at the entrance handing out buttons, pointing me toward the most polite, subdued crowd ever assembled in New York City. It was a sea of Canadian red and maple-leaf tattoos, with guys wearing polo shirts (collars up) and girls looking more Neko Case than Avril Lavigne.

Canadian music is for driving, not dancing, so hips swayed, but not too much; some feet were seen to tap, but only occasionally. There were no mullets, no marijuana, just the Calgary Stampede Rodeo and at least one famous CBC broadcaster. "She's Canada's Tom Brokaw," I was told. Oh, I thought. Wow.

It took an hour before the Canada jokes rolled out. "How do you spell Canada?" the emcee asked. "C, eh? N, eh? D, eh?"

Another zinger: "Apologies to the Strokes, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and the No No Nos, but rock 'n' roll lives in Canada!" Hmmm.

Most of the music was dull and predictable, particularly the songs of Sam Roberts, whose Warren DeMartini hairdo and three-chord tunes were as tired as his antics ("Put your hands in the air! Okay, now, just the ladies!") My Canadian friend told me that bands hate playing Canada because the crowds are so reserved. (No argument there.) But at least they, not unlike Russians with Pushkin, know the songs by heart. Blue Rodeo's "Hasn't Hit Me Yet" turned into a concert-wide sing-a-long minus the cigarette lighters. If aliens had passed through at that moment, they would've left thinking Blue Rodeo were the Beatles.

At the end of the day, the garbage was collected and people filed out in an orderly fashion. I was left with mixed feelings about Canada. They're a great neighbor, with the friendliest people this side of Mexico, but I'll take New York's noise, rudeness, crowds, traffic, piss-poor trains and pollution any day. Like Sam Roberts sang, "I think my life is passing me by." Sam, move to New York.

On second thought, just stay put. o