Modern Muse

My recent enthusiasm (sort-of) for Ottawa outings continued on Friday. I was back at The NAC but not at Fourth Stage. I had to make my way down to the Canal level to get to the larger Azrieli Studio for a night of indie music ($34). On the way, I passed by other studios. It was impressive considering The National Ballet's Four Seasons didn't have similar facilities. Too bad the main stage of Southam Hall was an indifferent venue.

The opener Orchidae (Yolande Laroche) was a local from Gatineau. Normally a "back-up" musician with bands like Pony Girl, she has decided to explore solo musicianship. Sitting at the baby grand along with a synthesizer, Laroche played a set of self-professed "sad girl" music. Certainly, whether it was about the problematic love of an ex or the unconditional one of a pandemic pet, the set was about slow beats, sustained chords, and wistful vocals with reverb and delay. I preferred Laroche's lower register which was richer in tone.

When head-liner Charlotte Cornfield came out with her band, I expected folks from The Royal Oak Family Singers like Stephen Foster since Cornfield often played with them. But this 4-piece roster from Toronto were all new faces including lawyer and bassist Kate Palumbo. Then again, though I do go back to The Big Smoke several times a year, I was no longer a regular to its music scenes. Despite a discography of 6 releases, Cornfield only sang a few older songs, with the rest of the set comprising of music from her latest album Hurts Like Hell.

This was all right with me as the tunes were uniformly strong. She spoke admiringly of seeing Bonnie Raitt this year. Well, the country-tinged music, combined with Cornfield's concise, witty rhymes and evocative lyrics was Raitt-like. They were the viewpoints of someone, slightly older and wiser, fondly looking back: a missed connection at an indie show (Squiddd), the hodgepodge lifestyle (and love life) of a 20-something (Long Game), or the sad antics of a faded musical hero (Lost Leader). Cornfield related wryly that the verse of that number ("There are too many dudes in the room") was too ironic on her recent UK show in a record store. My favourite number (and the crowd's) was the final (pre-encore) song Kitchen. They loved it because of the chorus ("it [love] could come natural/grounded and factual/passionate and actual"). I loved it because the verses described haunts from my old neighbourhood like Wise Bar and Dufferin Grove.

I don't know her current fan-base size in Toronto because I saw Cornfield early on or as a back-up singer or drummer. But there were around than 220-250 people tonight (Azrieli would be full at 300). Along with close to 20 folks waiting at the merch table after the show, it should be a good payday for the band.

Celebrate Mood Times

About a week ago, I went through Rothwell Heights to the Beacon Hill mall. The new development scheduled for this genteel neighbourhood haven't started yet. For visits last year to The Hill Bakehouse, I stuck with samosa and Jamaican patty. But with a hankering for cheap Chinese food a la South Pacific, I went back to a small fried rice ($5) and 2 chicken nuggets ($0.50/each). The nuggets were ok but the rice was only passable. Despite being directly off the wok, they lacked wok hei and were a bit tough. I think the combination of being cold from the fridge (food safety rules) and insufficient heat during cooking made them subpar.

On Sunday, I went to visit some friends. I was again pleasantly surprised by the speedy transit. Although speedy still meant an 80 minute trip. They were once again hosting a birthday lunch for another friend who lived nearby. But we ended up with a lot of food because the latter and their family couldn't make it. Earlier in the morning, her dad was admitted into the emergency room and might need surgery. They spent several pandemic years building a multi-generational home. So it would be a shame that they might only get to share it for only a short while.

The food, all home-made except for the filipino sausages, was a generous spread of crab dip, two delicious Malaysian mains of grilled chicken and beef rendang, a rich peanut sauce, and some garlic fried rice. With the bad news, we also talked about our own family situation. Luckily our parents were still healthy though they have certainly slowed down. I shared that I might have some property left by my father back in the old country. But I haven't pursued it yet because there were likely some messy legal knots with other heirs. The wife related how her late mother gave a house overseas to a new nephew because her kids didn't need it in North America. This was still a sore point for my friend. The husband may inherit some ancestral properties from various aunts and uncles, but they would mostly be ruins in a remote village.

With only one teenager around for lunch this time, I asked about his graduation plans for next year. He was keen on pursuing medical school but his father cautioned him that he must be prepared for disappointment. Many people fail to get an acceptance including a mutual friend some few decades back, who finally settled for a military career. About 12 years ago, my own cousin also failed several times to pass the interview process. They were now a bureaucrat, like many in Ottawa, with a family out in the suburbs. The teen seemed undeterred and why should he be? Young, optimistic, with no aching back and wonky knees, the future was bright.

Requiem for a Dream

Recent Ottawa outings were pleasant so I planned for more this week. Ticketmaster pushed ads for folk singer Anna Graves at Club Saw but it was too rainy mid-week. Finally, I came across a show ($25) at the NAC Fourth Stage with pianist Sarah Hagen. What a surprise since I have seen her several times in Toronto starting back in 2013.

This recital was originally for April of 2025. It was the first to be cancelled due to the pandemic and the last to be rescheduled. During that lock-down, ensconced in PEI, Hagen finally decided to tackle The Goldberg Variations. Something that, she joked during the intro, she thought to save for her 80th birthday celebration.

So on Friday, more than 35 years early, we heard her take on this famous J.S. Bach composition. First came the Prelude from Johann Gottlieb Goldberg, although it likely was written after the Variations. Then Hagen gave a short intro. The popular story that Bach wrote them so that Goldberg could soothe Count Kerserlingk's insomnia is believed to be false. She thought that the perennially poor Bach owed Goldberg money because J.S. is best-known for being "Baroque". The punchline to this extended joke got groans from the audience. But Hagen did impart some useful info for a newbie like me. There were only 3 variations in a minor key: the 15th which marked the first half and the 25th that "ended" the composition. The last 5 was the hopeful resolution. That gave me markers for her uninterrupted recital.

It was an enjoyable show, especially those minor variations, that I listened mostly with my eyes closed. Though I was sitting near the back, I did have a clear sightline to her hands. So on the faster, complicated passages, I marveled at their speed and precision. The opening aria and its reprise at the end was instantly recognizable in popular culture. Her encore was a shimmery prelude by Rachmaninoff.

During the talkback, Hagen continued to charm the audience with her wit: Her 30 art collages, displayed around the stage, were created with each variation playing on a loop; this was a challenge auditory-wise on the short 1-minute ones; her favourite variation was number 13 for its beauty and "easy to play"; of all versions she heard before she started practicing, Lang-Lang's was the best as, in her opinion, it truly escaped from the shadow of Glenn Gould's; the ones with accordion or sax quartet, not so much; his team replied to her inquiries about their gear when she recorded hers but the $100,000 mic set-up was not doable; if she could talk to Gould, she'd ask him what drugs he took and if they expanded his playing. The woman who asked that question told a story of her own. As a 19-year-old working at Hampton Court Hotel, she spoke regularly with Gould who had a residence there. She had no idea who the ramshackle man was until a friend clued her in about 1 month before his sudden death.

That April concert would have been music from women composers. I saw it at Gallery 345 late in November 2019 before the world shut down. Hagen opined that she might still do that showcase in Ottawa. Considering that her next album will be the music of Cécile Chaminade, that could well happen.

History Repeating

On Friday, I went to another show ($53) since the previous one was enjoyable. The group that owned History in Toronto opened another one in Ottawa. Not to bury the lede but this one was so good that I might return despite it being a Ticketmaster-affiliated venue. It was right downtown besides the Rideau Mall instead of out in a far-flung neighbourhood. Better yet, instead of "airport security" and long lines, I walked through the scanners and inside in less than 20 seconds. Located inside a former Chapters bookstore, History Ottawa was more in-line with Concert Hall in size than its larger sibling. Yet the smaller space still had great sight-lines and sound.

Boy Golden hailed from Winnipeg and his band The Church of Better Daze mostly came from out west including (Western Rock Artist of the Year) Fontine. However, I noticed that Torontonian Dani Nash (The Pining) sat behind the kit. The latest stuff was languid country while the early songs were high tempo honky-tonk and rockabilly. Boy Golden was less about cowboy stoicism than being socially progressive (Suffer) and emotionally available (I Wanna Know). It was an engaging opening set from a gregarious performer.

I saw Afie Jurvanen a few times before he got big as Bahamas. His "good ol' Canadian boy" personality went over great with the crowd and got cheers and laughs. He reminisced about Ottawa venues like Zaphod (now 27 Club) and Babylon, referred to his songs firmly tongue-in-cheek as "soft rock ballads", and humourously posited the new material as being obsolete since computers can write music now. With 8 albums, Bahamas did keep the latest to a minimum and played from his whole catalogue. His songs were a little too punchy to be "soft rock" even if ironically the most popular ones (Lost In The Light) were close to that genre.

I actually came for Christine Bougie (guitar) and Felicity Williams (back-up vocals) and they did not disappoint. But Jurvanen was no slouch on guitar and vocals. Him trading licks and chords with Bougie was what kept the songs propulsive and grooving. Though he usually sang higher up, the biggest cheers came whenever he switched to falsetto (All The Time) and let his voice with Williams' even higher soprano soar. His dad jokes persona kept going through his set. When he saw that someone in the front row was on their phone during one of his segue, Afie launched into an impromptu cover of On The Road Again that his band quickly picked up. With a career now at 17 years, and his audience approaching retirement age, Bahamas came on at 9 and finished at a quarter past 10 pm. I appreciated the early wrap since I was no spring chicken myself