Anyone who has visited a music venue in Saskatoon has probably experienced Jill Mack’s work, even if they didn’t know her name.
Mack, 32, was one of only a few female sound technicians working in Saskatchewan when she passed away March 13 after a battle with melanoma. She wasn’t famous in the traditional sense, but her name was integral to the Saskatoon music scene.
A staple at venues like Amigos Cantina, Mack spent time on stage and behind the board at shows across the province.
When the pandemic “eviscerated” the music industry, Aryn Otterbein and Mack were among those suddenly without work. Otterbein, who works at the Broadway Theatre, said she and Mack were setting up for a broadcast of the 2020 Juno Awards when they got the news the show was cancelled due to the pandemic.
Otterbein remembered she and Mack looked at each other as they heard the news come through the radio. A round of laughter came from the audience at Mack’s memorial service when Otterbein’s eulogy mentioned Mack’s reaction.
“She shrugged and said, ‘Beer?’ This was Jill. The world was collapsing around her, her career was gutted, and she handled it with grace and the utmost of chill-down energy,” Otterbein said.
“She was really kind and easygoing and she never really got flustered, ever,” said Karen Gwillam, who praised Mack as exactly the right kind of person to work in the high-octane music scene.
Gwillam said she and Mack were the only two regular female sound technicians in the main Saskatchewan scene.
“Jill never liked to make a big deal out of that,” Gwillam said.
Funny and smart, Mack was Gwillam’s first choice to work with, she said.
Barrett Ross said that as a woman in an industry largely made up of men, Mack faced a lot of harsh treatment from some people. But it never stopped her.
“I know she felt it, but she didn’t let them know,” Ross said. “She didn’t seem to let certain stresses bother her.”
Ross, who runs a live sound production company, said Mack was one of her favourite techs and “easily one of our favourite people.” They met through audio work, and Ross would hire Mack often for festivals, shows and private recording.
“She was tough. She worked hard. She was really good at what she did,” Ross remembered. “Everywhere she went, everybody wanted to be her friend.”
Friends remembered Mack performing — always with a confident, wry smile — with her bands Dump Babes or Go Bwah.
“I think it was cool for me to see another woman in the sound industry,” musician Ellen Froese said. “Finding a woman who also loves to nerd out to the extent that I do, I think that really solidified our relationship.”
The two were “instant friends” after meeting at a house concert hosted by Mack’s former roommate, where Mack was jamming and recording sound.
Friends and co-workers remembered Mack as the kind of person who volunteered to help build a friend’s fire pit and then cleaned out their deck just because she was there, or showed up at a friend’s front door with sourdough waffles heaped with whipped cream and fruit for no particular reason.
Ross said Mack’s way with people was “uncommon.” The two bonded over having both lost their mothers to cancer.
“I would not have dreamed that a year later I’d be dealing with the same thing for Jill,” he shared.
Mack had beaten cancer once before, but her health deteriorated quickly after her second diagnosis.
Otterbein said she was able to spend Mack’s final days with her in the hospital.
“She is a rock star and she’s a fighter. It was a lot of laughing and, even when she wasn’t feeling her greatest, she was a joy to be around,” Otterbein said.
Mack left her mark on the Saskatoon music scene and those who knew her.
Froese called her innately reliable, and said she was able to work with anyone in any genre, unwilling to judge and always at her best.
Gwillam teared up while describing Mack as kind and “larger than life.”
“Every stage she was consistently at is going to miss her. Every band that she was in already misses her. People that knew her in passing are going to miss her,” Ross said.