Seasons Change

There's not much update but this is to round off December to an even 12 postings. I finally meet up with some long-time friends for a confab at sushi joint Fusion House on Sunday. Like most sushi places nowadays, this is an all you can eat. The fish at these locales aren't the best, but they were particularly bland here tonight. The better dishes were all non-sushi dishes such as the tempura, grilled skewers, and dim sum dumplings. So somebody should try and corner the market on all you can eat Izakayas, which are all still fairly pricey a la carte.

At dinner, a long-time bachelor friend announces his engagement after a 6 month courtship. According to his own testimony, it was more of a practical decision than a whirlwind romance (in the sense that both parties decided that things were going well enough to take this next step.) This also means that I have no more single friends and have only 1 more wedding to attend. Interestingly, their proposals all fell into two categories: either from relationships that lasted for years or after less than 12 months of dating. As there are no imminent break-ups yet, both approaches seem to be working out.

Muddle Through Somehow

More nesting inside this week even though the weather is remarkably mild for Ottawa. But it is too easy to spend each day noshing, doing some reading, and taking an afternoon nap. Rinse and repeat. Mid-week, there was a Christmas Day lunch at the relatives. The entire clan was there with only 2 missing due to illness. But with more and more members living elsewhere, especially the younger set, I can see these get-togethers either becoming rarer or sparser. After all, it is already down-graded from dinner for the last few years.

I headed once more to Upward Dog for an energy boost. But Saturday's Power Core class wasn't as enjoyable. It was virtually empty with people opting out given the holiday schedule. The casual instructions from the substitute were also off-putting. My own experience with careful, detail-oriented teachers leave me biased against "lesser" instructors.When a class seems to "harm" instead of providing a benefit to new practitioners, I'm not happy.

This time, I had lunch at Murray Street, a charcuterie next to Bite. The tomato soup ($7) and corned hash ($15) caught my eye. The soup was hot and rich, though perhaps a little too creamy. Some spoonfuls felt like slurping up pasta sauce. But overall, the crushed herb kept things fresh and fragrant. For the main, the poached egg was sufficiently runny, the corned beef tender and not too salty, and the potato hash soft and toothsome. I would have played up the onions and cheese, and perhaps add some greens or herbs, to lighten the heavy flavour.

And Mistletoes

I've been nesting this last week. First, because that's the default mode in Ottawa. But also due to a cough and sore throat. Over the last several weeks I've been dressing down, trying to see how I was able to go through winter with only a light wind-breaker back in the day. It didn't feel too bad; you simply get used to being chillier. Ultimately though, turns out you can't hack it when you're more decrepit.

With a sunny Saturday, I needed to venture outside for a bit. The Byward Market really is a beautiful and eclectic neighbourhood. Like most trendy areas anywhere, it is dominated by restaurants and shopping. But there are other businesses to add some variety. The only thing missing is residential spaces, but with the addition of condos that seems to be changing.

To rejuvenate my lethargic system, I stopped off at Upward Dog Yoga for a lunch-time class. The Power Core class concentrated on "non-sexy" poses designed to strengthen the core and not crazy poses for magazine covers. The instructor was good overall, but with most students still struggling over the arm balances, some attention to the minor details would be good. "Have fun, play around. If not today, then maybe tomorrow" is a bit vague.

With my appetite aroused, I stopped over at Bite, a burger joint in a converted house. The inside held a small bar and comfortable Ikea-chic tables. I opted for the $15 Funguy (upgraded to truffle fries for another $2). The brioche bun was a good base, since it had to hold a lot. The overall burger was rich but bland. I wanted a sharper goat cheese, an earthier portobello, and more mouth-feel for the chuck. The fries were typical bistro fare: good quality and flavour but lacking a good crunch. It was a nice lunch but nothing outstanding.

Hark The Herald Angel Sings

Having enjoyed Kith & Kin as the opener for the wonderful The Weather Station show at The Dakota, I decided to attend their annual Christmas wassail on Sunday night. It was at the Music Gallery, a more than appropriate venue since it was a church. The evening didn't start out great though, as the sold-out audience was crammed into the small reception area. With the doors not opened until 15 minutes before the 8 pm show, people were sweating and growing impatient, and several older couples seriously considered leaving. Some goodwill was restored when we finally walked through, to be serenaded with a "welcome song" by tonight's performers standing in two rows along the corridor.

The first set comprised of Kith & Kin, a trio of women who sang traditional Christmas carols (referred wryly as the "Jesus suite") as well as seasonal songs including a few drinking ballads. They were joined by some friends to add banjo, guitar, or other voices. Then we were treated to a troupe of young mummers. These children and teens acted out in rhyming couplets a story about the children of a hard-working couple who were tempted away from the "Green Knight" (who offered simple fun like playing outside) and a figure in red with horns and gold chains who supplied "better" toys such as action figures, dolls, and portable video games. Of course, everybody learned a valuable lesson at the end about the meaning of Christmas.

The second set had Kith & Kin as part of a larger 8-member choir. They followed a tradition of singing (or rather music notation) called shape-note. Perhaps to introduce the audience to this method, most songs began with the melody sung with musical notes (e.g., sol, fa, do) before the first verse. Since there isn't much arrangement in this vein anymore, the songs were older pieces, almost they did showcase two recent compositions. The music ranged from the British Isles (including Scotland and Ireland) to the Appalachians and the American Mid-West. I was particularly taken with a song based on an Armenian folk tune with its touch of Middle-East tones. The crowd was encouraged to join in on two wassails before the trio ended the night with Cool As Day as an encore.

Eat This

My visit to Bitondo's Pizza was disappointing but it gave me an obvious-in-retrospect idea: pile on the toppings. At less than $2 per addition, this would still be cheaper than the gourmet spots. But you need a cheap joint with good dough. If not Bitondo's then where else? I thought Fresca did a good job with the calzone, so I gave them a try on Saturday.

A 4-topping medium pizza here runs about $16. But I was only charged $11. When I tried to pay the difference, the owner gruffly said "pizza special". Perhaps he misunderstood my consternation; I wasn't thinking that I was being overcharged. In any case, the original order would still be worth the money. Ironically, the internet has been abuzz lately with the case of Harvard professor Benjamin Edelman threatening a chinese take-out joint over a difference of $4.

This was rich, gooey pizza, almost Pizza Hut-oily but nowhere near as unappetizing. I suspect this was not just from the abundant cheese but also the special green-onions oil mix they put on everything here. So so delicious. More importantly, the dough was soft and chewy, with a good give when you bite into it. The other ingredients were also tasty. No, I wasn't under any delusion that this was high-end, locally sourced toppings. But the salty whole black olives, crunchy onions, and pepperoni and sausage with strong flavour made the pizza. I think I've found my go-to cheap pizza joint.

Something Borrowed

On Friday, with the snow on the ground from the storm that lasted all day Thursday, I thought it was appropriate to go to another installment of the multi-disciplinary Long Winter. Now in its 3rd year, this all-ages show presents multimedia, art, food, and music. Though most people are probably there for the music and socializing.

Whether the thrill is gone (most of the "big" local bands don't play anymore) or the newer restrictions on capacity at The Great Hall, the venue isn't packed as in previous years. I decided not to wander around the other locations such as the Conversation room (muddy acoustics) or the Basement Theatre because over-zealous security could stop you from re-entering the main hall because of "capacity".

But there was plenty to do here. There were Australian meat pies from Kanga (not recommended) and Hong Kong "Bubble Cake". I tried my hands at Alpha releases of local video games: vs game Super Rookery (Joust did it better), music-based shoot-em-up Beat Warrior, and SimEarth meets puzzle game in Fate Tectonics.

Music-wise, there was a non-Toronto vibe with the first 3 bands all coming from outside the GTA. First up was Animalia (though now based in Toronto, Jill Krasnicki hailed from Australia). This singer combined industrial pop with emotional almost stream-of-consciousness lyrics. She swayed and cavorted both onstage and down on the floor. She would probably have benefited from a later time slot. Animalia was reminiscent of Nyssa, another local singer exploring dark synth-pop. The next two acts were from Peterborough. Sam Conway took the night in another, much twangier, direction. His light country had the requisite long sad titles but his lyrics weren't as clever. However, the interaction between his guitar-picking and chords and his trumpetist's melodies was beautiful. Finally, The Lonely Parade rounded out the "out-of-town" contingent. This teenage punk trio loves to alternate between fast chunky chords and groovy prog-rockesque interludes. The staid Toronto crowd wasn't a good fit at their Sheezer show but they had the perfect audience tonight. It was unlikely the teenagers moshing on the floor had heard of them, but this was music to dance to.

Army Girls had the crowd finally pushed right up to the stage. The drum-and-guitar duo also had the crowd going early with Carmen Elle's furious guitar and tight sync to the percussion. She wryly noted that it was obvious the crowd was into up-tempo music, unfortunately "those were all we had". True enough, the rest of the songs were quieter. But numbers like Give It Up still thrilled thanks to her wistful and sweet voice.

This showcase is still fun but the curators need to do a better job of integrating in other artists. Too often, they are relegated to corners where most people only give them a passing glance. Perhaps something closer to Jason Collett's Basement Revue where non-musicians also get stage time.

Brick-Roll

On Tuesday, I was in the Chinatown area for a fruitcake purchase from a home-cook. I wasn't throwing away good money; this wasn't the store-bought monstrosity packed with red and green bits. In previous years, I have enjoyed their dense but flavourful concoction full of quality nuts and fruit. Although to be fair, this year's edition seemed heavier than usual. But I'm sure it'll still be tasty and not useful only as a blunt weapon.

For dinner, it was off to Rol San. Odd that despite 10+ years looking at the "All Day Dim Sum" banner, I've never actually ordered the excellent dim sum here except during brunch. And dim sum is just a variation of the tapas, izakayas, and small plates trend that are ubiquitous in Toronto. The har gow and siu mai were plump and juicy as usual. Both the shrimp-stuff eggplant and tripe were also good. I was on-the-fence about the deep-fried pumpkin with yolk; just a little bit too greasy and gooey. I also didn't love the one non-dim sum item: the vegetarian buddha's feast with fried noodles. But I'm not a fan of any thick sauce-based Chinese food given the alternative. A good stir-fry, done right at high heat in a professional Chinese kitchen, simply can't be replicated at home.

Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad

After listening to dating stories, I headed over to The Dakota for some live music. Most bars are normally quiet on a Monday night. But with supergroup cover band Dwayne Gretzky doing a last-minute gig here, the joint was hopping. Given that I will likely miss their New Year Eve show at the Danforth Music Hall, I was hoping for some new tunes that have been added to their extensive repertoire.

So it was great to hear several popular hits making it into the set-list tonight including You're So Vain (Carly Simon), Everybody Wants to Rule The World (Tears For Fears), Africa (Toto), and Let's Dance (David Bowie). Of course, there were also perennial favourites like Barracuda or Whole Lotta Love. Since Dwayne Gretzky doesn't play note-for-note, it was interesting to compare the solo styles of the guitarists. One favoured fast fingers and the other lots of tremolo and string bending. A Gretzky show usually runs until the wee hours. But although there were 3 sets scheduled, I headed home after 2 to get some rest for work tomorrow.

Plenty of Dish

Monday night, I stopped off at The Garrison for 416 Dating Stories where both amateurs and professionals can recount their battles. Given that defunct newspaper Eye Weekly had 2 features about dating, Dating Diaries and Blind Date, the average person obviously want to know about other people's juicy details. So the room was full with couples and singles, excited about what could happen.

The show started slow though. The emcee wanted to get some details for the next outing: the best start time, how did people hear about the event, if they want to sign up to present at the next show, should it be a singles mixer as well, and so on. But this book-keeping right off the bat felt too dull as an opening to what should be a fun night. Things improved with Dave Merheje. Being a stand-up comic, he peppered his anecdote with quips and one-liners. His holiday-themed story involved trying to get his crush to like Christmas while living in sweltering L.A. (so technically it wasn't a Toronto dating story.) Next up was spoken word poet Dwayne Morgan with a poem about the idealized man, gleaned from the pages of women magazines. It was amusing but felt like a retread of the Old Spice "I'm On a Horse" ads. Comic Rhiannon Archer was unavailable due to surgery, so her replacement Kimberley gave us some e-mail snippets from a smitten Latin fling.

After the break, local film-maker Anthony took to the stage. He garnered the most laughs and cheers for his 30-minute story. It began with the break-up of an 8-year relationship that started at the tender age of 16. It ended with him singing to a girl in front of her workplace while store-bought fireworks were being fired by his best friend. Anthony even gave the audience a rendition of that self-penned song, including the rap break. Finally, the emcee closed off the evening with her own horror story involving a weird make-out attempt while watching the dystopian film The Road. She compared this rather tone-deaf encounter to Seinfeld's "making out at Schindler's List" episode.

This series could be a hit, as most people were having a good time. But it is definitely dependent on the story-teller. So finding someone who can find the balance between humour, empathy, and give just enough details but not into TMI territory may be a challenge.

She Sings Sanctuary

With Cold Specks being stuck in The Rockies because of a snowstorm, their Friday night set at Lee's Palace was moved to Sunday. But though it was on the eve of the work week, the venue was full for her self-described "doom soul". The impeccable sound tonight, I've never heard a better mix at this venue, did justice to both acts.

AroarA's debut album takes as lyrics the poems of Alice Notley (In The Pines). Married to the wonderful verses were catchy, but trancy, arrangements. Because of their reliance on a drum machine and sampler, this duo often played over repetitive samples and beats. But they were also able to spin out subtle variations with their guitars. Given the occasion, Ariel Engle's clear voice was augmented tonight with backup vocals from Feist and Daniela Gesundheit (Snowblink). This was their strongest performance to date and many in the audience were obviously won over.

It was hard to know how to react to Cold Specks' music. With her assertive "church-choir" voice (with an attitude) and oblique lyrics, you may be tempted to stand and absorb the emotions. Yet they were also anthemic tunes especially from the new album Neuroplasticity. Anchored by driving guitar and furious drums, as well as the rumbling of a baritone sax, these demanded that you move. Most people tonight fell into the congregational mode. At one point, there was such utter silence (no glasses clinking; chatty talkers in the back) that it even unnerved Al Spx as she was tuning her guitar. She also sang a few songs a cappella, none more powerful than Holland from her debut disc. In a wrathful nod to an earlier quip about touring in the U.S. ("That country is fucked up ... somebody should tell the government"), she included along with the verses like "O death, where is thy sting?", exhortations of "Hands up, don't shoot, I can't breathe". It was an electrifying moment that made tonight more than just a pop performance.

On The Second Floor

Saturday night, I was at The Cave for an early show. This upstairs venue of Lee's Palace actually feels more welcoming than the main bar with big cozy booths, line drawings etched in the walls, and a barn-like arched roof. Unfortunately, with the early time slot, there weren't too many people here for Luka and Tasseomancy.

When Luka took to the stage, I recognized some band members who have played for Tasseomancy and Emilie Mover. The lead singer, a sad-sacked dude with a ratty mustache, didn't inspire confidence. His soft delivery about Monkey Kings was a quirky topic, but I quickly grew to like his (mostly melancholic) love songs. He had a way with turns of phrase that conveyed both wryness  ("never write about the women you love") and unabashed hope ("a heart so full of love and sorrow"). Luka would probably do better in coffee-houses than cavernous bars.

The sisters of Tasseomancy are often also a bit quirky. Although tonight, with one of them singing in her sister's bath-robe, might be the oddest. The good sound at The Cave highlighted the folkoric qualities of their lyrics ("Come my darling, it's getting late late and I'm cold"). As always, their drummer Evans with his syncopated percussions and steel drums, anchored the songs and gave them propulsion. There was no bassist tonight but a new synth player added some additional harmonies to their set.

Up In Smoke

I was in Detroit for one day on a business trip. Downtown Detroit does have some beautiful old buildings. Unfortunately, it is also packed with brutal 30 story towers and giant parking garages, as well as 8-lane streets and 4-lane one ways (so essentially the same). This landscape wasn't pedestrian-friendly. I walked down deserted streets looking for a place to have dinner. I finally made my way to Greektown, where there were a few restaurants huddling together.

The interior of Redsmoke was welcoming with a rustic feel. They specialized in dry-rub BBQ, though there was a variety of sauces for you to try. I opted for the Classic Combo ($18.99) and chose Texas brisket, pulled pork, and collard greens. The dish that came out had huge portions that would easily cost 50% more in Toronto. The pulled pork was soft and tender, it went best with the roasted poblano sauce. The brisket was a bit dry and not as tasty. I favoured the honey mustard for its sauce. The other sauces: Mississippi Mud and cherry molasses were too sweet for me. The collard greens were too runny to highlight its distinctive flavour. This was a filling and cheap dinner.

The only negative for the evening was unwrapping the utensils to find the fork encrusted with yellow dry food-bits. I've never encountered such a gaffe before. The waitstaff replaced it, but did not acknowledge the mistake with an apology. I found that unprofessional since it was their job to lay out table settings.

Sorrow and Joy

On Saturday, I was off to the Drake Underground for some live music. The two bands tonight played contrasting styles. Kandle, daughter of Neil Osbourne (54-40), was all darkness and attitude. Despite her sparkly gold dress, her growly voice on songs such as Control Me and Not Up To Me brought a cynical edge to observations about make-ups and break-ups. Her backing band, The Krooks, supplied the swampy bass and decaying guitar.

Fast Romantics, on the other hand, came across like Arcade Fire but less mopey. Every song (Take Me Back, Funeral Song) was up-tempo thumping drums, multi-part chorus, and solid chords. It was all an invitation for sing-alongs and dancing. Amazingly, there were some at the front that broke from Toronto's nodding heads to dance and even wave their arms. Tonight, the band introduced new members Kirty Scholte and Kevin Black (ex-Hands & Teeth). I liked their music but after a while, the relentless cheeriness got a bit tiresome. It was like spending time with an extroverted friend who needs to dial it back now and then.

Secret Ingredient

On Friday, there was another going-away lunch for a co-worker. This time, it took place at a teppanyaki spot called Iron Chef Steakhouse. The interior was all dark wood and chairs. We were seated around a large flat grill to be entertained before being fed.

The chef went through his routine of spinning his spatulas and forks. But I noticed that he did all his razzle-dazzle before cooking, whereas the chef at Prince had a few extras throughout such as cracking an egg by throwing it against the edge of his spatula. In any case, I opted for the sirloin/salmon/chicken combo ($19.95) with fried rice ($2.75). It was an average lunch and a bit on the pricey side as it comes to $30 with tax and tip. In fact, since all three proteins used similar sauces, they all tasted more or less the same with the chicken coming in last. Also, the fried rice was a stomach-bloating mistake. The grill wasn't hot enough to impart the tasty flavour of good restaurant fried rice.

Footloose

During Bry Webb's performance at Massey Hall, he was extolling Gordon Lightfoot's 4-night run where he met the legendary troubadour. So when it was announced that Lightfoot will play this November, I got my ticket. Thursday night, I went down to Massey for the 2nd of his 4 performances.

With such a large oeuvre, Lightfoot did two sets instead of having an opener. The 76-year-old singer/guitarist can teach younger bands about punctuality and scheduling. His 1st set started at exactly 8, though people were still coming in, followed by a 20-minute break ("Be prompt cause we'll start without you", he quipped to laughter), and a 2nd set that ended 2 minutes to 10 pm. His songs were roughly in 2 categories. The first were the story-telling ones, with verse after verse of carefully observed details. The prime example was The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald to close out the first set. The pop songs (Rainy Day People, Sundown, Carefree Highway, If You Could Read My Mind) eschewed the typical melody verse and refrain and often added variation throughout the song. Lightfoot didn't do much banter but sang song after song. He did have a wry humour and a penchant for puns ("Come meet me by the rock pile where I'm bolder").

His voice isn't what it used to be: the light sweetness has been replaced with a strangled delivery in the upper register. So it was sometimes an effort to make out the lyrics. His music was evocative and in my opinion, didn't need the backing band. In fact, with the exception of a few songs, they detracted from the show with mundane, karaoke-esque arrangements. Lightfoot, his well-used guitar, and maybe a guitar lead would have been enough.

Ra-mensch

When I saw ramen on the menu of Jewish bistro Essen, I knew I had to come back to try it. After a week of sudden snow storm and gusty winds, I decided that this chilly Tuesday night was perfect to test this concoction. A table of old Jewish men were debating their choices, but I didn't need to ponder it over: Jewish ramen ($10) and a side order of duck fat fries ($6).

The soup was a cross-over. On the Jewish side, you had carrot cubes, matzo balls, and kreplach. On the Asian side, there was soft-boiled egg and egg noodles. But the combination was less than its parts because there wasn't much "ramen vibe". Chef should consider Eastern veggies like bean sprouts and wood ear mushrooms; the flat pasta didn't have the toothsomeness of ramen noodles; and the eggs lacked that perfect balance between firm egg-white and cooked but still runny egg-yolk. It was my first matzo ball and to be honest, I'm not a fan. But the broth was flavourful and the kreplach was excellent. Instead of the usual boiled dumpling stuffed with ground meat, it was fried and crispy with tasty beef brisket. The ramen was an interesting idea but not well-executed.

The fries were better, more in line with my previous experience here. They were thinly sliced, scalloped-style, and came out toasty and golden. Topped with green onions and dill, this was a delicious side-dish.

Inner Ninji

Saturday night, I went to my first National Ballet of this season: a remount of last year's Nijinski. This ballet by John Neumeier explores the life Vaslav Nijinski. This famous Russian ballet dancer ("Dieu de la Danse") from the turn of the last century had his career cut short by schizophrenia.

At the opening of the ballet, we found ourselves in the ballroom of a hotel in St. Moritz. The elegantly-clad upper crust slowly filled the room, first to schmooze and then to witness Nijinski's (Guillaume Cote) last public performance. They were shocked by his madcap and clownish movements. As a few started to leave, he danced his more celebrated roles. As the applause thundered, the dancer began to hallucinate about his past.

So over the first act, we experienced details about his life: his talented family, all dancers from his mother Eleonora (Svetlana Lunkina), his sister Bronislava (Jenna Savella), and his brother Stanislav (Dylan Tedaldi); his tumultuous relationship with mentor/lover Serge Diaghilev (Evan McKie); and his fiery wife Romola (Xiao Nan Yu). We also saw other "Nijinskis" (Naoya Ebe, Keiichi Hirano, Jonathan Renna) in his famous roles whether as Harlequin, Faun, or Golden Slave. They danced in tandem, in mimicry, or in duet with Cote. They also performed with the ballet dancers of his oeuvres (Les Sylphides, Petruschka, Le Sacre du printemps).

In the second act, the chaotic and confusing hallucinations gave way to direr visions. Interspersed with these performances were glimpses of the horror of the Great War, especially after his brother's deaths. Dancers put on military jackets, thumped and stomped to martial drum beats, and fell down dead by the dozen. By the time we returned to the ballroom, the world has changed for the worse.

Some older mavens were surprised by the material. Given Nijinski's status, perhaps they were expecting limpid classical ballet. But this was relentless contemporary ballet. The classical movements were intertwined with angular, furious modern dancing. Sometimes Cote contorted himself with such abandonment that I was worried about some injury. In addition, there were some crazed vocalizations from hysterical laughter to Nijinski repeatedly screaming "Death" in time to the marching rhythm. There were some small flubs with props and positions. But overall, it was an intense show of physicality and feeling.

Bang-On Brunch

Lamesa at Queen and Bathurst does trendy Filipino to show that "ethnic cuisine" shouldn't be relegated to the cheap eats/student budget category. I enjoyed dinner there, although I didn't love that they tone down some of the more exotic flavours. When I found out that they have a brunch option, I decided to check it out on Saturday.

From a short and simple menu, I chose the Silog Silog Breakfast ($12) with the tradititional bangus (milkfish) instead of the Filipino bacon or sausage. The plate was both familiar and strange. On the typical side, there was an arugula and sunny-side up eggs. Somewhere in the middle was the cassava hash and fried rice (instead of fries and toast). What stopped me was an entire fish, dissected down the middle, and presented whole with head and tail. I don't think you'll see anything half as interesting at any other brunch place.

The milkfish was delicious. It has been smoked, marinated, and then fried so everything was edible, except for the tail. The flesh was salty and fragrant, perfect with salad or rice. The crispy skin (and head) added oily richness. For some tanginess, pour on some Sinamak (spicy filipino vinegar). The cassava was less starchy than potatoes; it had an interesting flavour though it won't replace the tater. I complimented the meal with an extra spicy Caesar ($8). All in all, this was a stand-out brunch.

Sync Or Swim

Tuesday was the first really cold day for November. This might explain the sparse crowd at the Lula Lounge for tonight's music. First up was Retrocity, an 8-member a capella band specializing in 80s songs. They started with Mr. Roboto and sang the gamut from The Cure (Close To Me) and Queen (I'm Going Slightly Mad) to Crowded House (Don't Dream It's Over). Some people loved the arrangements with complex parts while others enjoyed slow ones: hearing 8-part harmony live can be thrilling. They had some exciting news to share. 8 years after their debut album, they are finally recording a second one to be out early next year. Retrocity ended their set with some upbeat CanCon: a Parachute Club 2-parter (Love Is Fire, Rise Up).

The 2nd band for tonight was Synchronicity III, a Police cover band. Fronted by Dylan Bell (Retrocity) on voice/bass, Michael Occhipinti on guitar, and Ben Riley on drums. This was their first gig but they were tight and virtuosic. But it wasn't The Police Greatest Hits though: no Roxanne or Every Breath You Take. The most mainstream covers were Sending Out An SOS and Spirits In The Material World. Otherwise, it was lesser known tunes such as Tea In The Sahara and No Time This Time. Many songs let all 3 "noodle" around with jams or solos. It would be dated and obnoxious for current music, but all is forgiven for retro stuff. Given that Retrocity did a couple of Sting songs in their set, the night had to end with both bands joining forces on Synchronicity II. I'm not sure who did the better guitar solo: Suba Sankaran vocalizing or Occhipinti on an actual guitar. For all their fun with "niche" singing, I think everybody indulged their "play in a rock band" fantasy tonight.

Beast Roll

I wanted to try Branca, a new Argentian grill house near Lansdowne and Dundas, a few weeks ago. But they weren't open on a very rainy Tuesday. However, this Tuesday night, they were available. I was surprised that despite a positive review in the Globe and Mail on the week-end, they weren't busier. Soft padded benches, hip music, exposed brick and wood: all typical mid-scale restaurant décor. The ink collage of naked women stenciled into the stairs going down to the washrooms was an unexpected and tasteless choice though. I assume that the presence of a lasso-wielding gaucho amongst the ladies meant the whole thing was supposed to be kitschy and ironic.

First up was the salchicha parrillera ($11). This appetizer had the best flavour balance of all the dishes: subtle pork sausage, sweet mustard seeds, and toasted corn bread. The main was beef short rib ($23) with harissa and roasted eggplants ($1/each) and a side-order of caramelized endives ($5). I had no complaints about the meat, except perhaps the portion size. Rich, done medium-rare, with crusty ends, it was tasty beef. The condiments and vegetables were too tangy and didn't go well with the entrée. I want my harissa spicy and my eggplant smoky. The base of the endives was juicy and flavourful, better than the tips which had absorbed too much acidity. My dessert was Panqueques ($7): crepes stuffed with dulce de leche and a large dollop of chantilly cream. The warm, sweet dough went great with the cool cream.

Branca is a good restaurant but the price of dinner do creep upward (they have $34 suckling pig and $110 aged beef). Some appetizers and sides have good prices, but it looks like the mains are generally small portions.

Pie-o-metrics

Saturday night, I decided to try one of the "neighbourhood" pizza joints given recent experiences with fancier places. They don't get more old-school than Bitondo's Pizza, at Clinton and College but off the main Little Italy strip. The walls had that slightly faded yellow shade of age, the soft drinks came in a giant, old, top-lidded Coke freezer, and two old men made pizzas in a tiny space by the oven. The cashier knew almost everyone by name and most were obviously regulars. So many people came in and out for a slice or a take-out of sandwiches and pizzas that there was a 35 min wait on my order.

Per basic geometry, the area of your pizza grows hugely with each additional inch of diameter. But I didn't want to get greedy and got a medium (12") anchovies for $11.55. First, a mea culpa. I thought I was ordering the 4-topping option with anchovies on the menu. The cashier thought I wanted a 1-topping deal. I do enjoy this fish, but an anchovies-only pizza wouldn't top anybody's list. So this wasn't going to be a great pizza. Nevertheless, the cheese, tomato, and dough should be able to stand on their own. But sadly, this wasn't any better than your typical pizza franchise. I think people come here for the friendly familiarity. On the other hand, at $1/topping, I could get a 7-8 topping version for the same price as one of the chi-chi variety. For the record, eating the cold leftover slices was pretty good.

Long Form

Friday night, I was at the Dakota Tavern for the new release of The Weather Station. First up was Kith & Kin. This a capella trio admitted shyly performs once a year at a Christmas Wassail (which includes a larger choir). So this set was a special departure for them, prompted by a request from singer Tamara Lindeman. It was odd to hear traditional (and in their words "sacred music") songs such as Bright Morning Stars and Lowlands in a basement bar. Even newer Cool of the Day or In This Heart (Sinead O'Connor) had that hymnal, old-timey arrangement. But it was an new original composition about Toronto Island (done in the folk style) sung with Isla Craig that made the most impact: complex harmony and phrasing that still had that timeless feeling.

The Weather Station doesn't play much as a band. So the venue was sold out ("My first sold-out show" said Lindeman) for the head-liner. In addition to a full line-up of bass, drums, and steel pedal, Isla Craig, Ivy Mairi (Kith & Kin), and Basia Bulat joined Lindeman on vocals. The crowd was hushed but ecstatic for the introspective music both new (Don't Understand, Almost Careless) and old (Everything I Saw, Know It To See It). After Craig exclaimed that she wanted to clap (in appreciation), Lindeman grinned that people don't usually say that (clap-along) about Weather Station music. She dead-panned to laughter: "Usually they wonder is this the rhythm part?" It was true: despite the drummer and bassist, and Lindeman's complex guitar-picking, there was something almost free verse about her songs. But similar to her wonderful Duets show, tonight was about song-craft. In appreciation, the crowd cheered enough for 2 encores.

Return of the Jadea

The Massey Hall Presents series profile promising artists. I dropped by The Rivoli on Thursday night to see pop singer Jadea Kelly. First up was Franco-Ontarian singer Melanie Brulée. Accompanied by a lead guitarist, she played a set that was a bit cabaret and a bit pop (Wonder, Candy Shop). She got cheers for a mash-up Toxic (Britney Spears)/Je ne regrette rien (Edith Piaf) as sung by the latter with an exaggerated French accent and those famous rolled "rrrr"s. I found her verses and rhymes a bit too on the nose/typical to stand out. She was better in French (Obtus, Small Town & The Prey) so it will be interesting to hear her upcoming French album Débridée.

Jadea Kelly took to the stage in a flowy dress and a white feather necklace. Her full band included Tom Juhas (Case Of The Mondays) so there should be some eerie guitar whammies and slide action. She played mostly from her recent album (Wild West Rain, Powell River, Clover): folk-pop songs that were usually languid and layered. Lyrically, her songs also suffered a bit from well-trodden rhymes but had better phrasing and rhythm. There were numerous dedications including a cover of Heaven Is A Place On Earth. Kelly had a natural charm onstage and made perhaps the best merch pitch ever. She had cut up her fingers today making stain-glass ornaments. So she jokingly pointed out that the audience won't find another artist that has merch covered with their own "blood and tears". For her encore, Kelly debuted a new song Mariah which was "her Jolene". The devastating words may shed light on her earlier oblique reference about making 50 demos this year and having an "angry" summer.

Body Of Work

Wednesday night, I went to the Bluma Appel Theatre for the North American premiere of Opus by Australian troupe Circa. It promised to be an evening of circus arts as contemporary dance.

Cirque du Soleil has changed the circus scene. But though each of their show is themed, outside of costumes and sets, their individual acts only really pay lip-service to a grander narrative. Opus tried to play with the feelings and history of the music: Shostakovich's 11th, 8th, and 5th Quartet. As such, there were echos of struggle and oppression in the performers' movements and the various scenes.

First and foremost, it was a thrilling show. From jumps, spins, and handstands to precarious balancing acts and nifty apparatus (hoops, trapeze), this was the 1st dance/theatre performance I've been to where the audience gasped and often cheered or clapped. Yet it was the less flashy moments that stuck with me. My favourite scene had a mischievous pixie-haired girl wandered the stage without touching the ground, thanks to the shoulders, backs, heads, and other body parts of her fellow acrobats.

But there was more to the show than feats of strength and balance. The performers used their skills to tell  stories: romance, conflict, peace, and anger. The Debussy String Quartet not only provided fine music, but were part of the narrative. They did not sit off to one side as background characters. Overall, Opus would be even better artistically with even more dance elements: using a style like contact improv may be a good fit; developing a musical vocabulary that uses repetition and variation; and reducing the big climaxes that require long set-up which break the flow. But these small quibbles aside, the show was a wonderful exploration of the human body and spirit.

In Da Clubhouse

With the terrible pizza from last week, I thought about returning instead to cheap but tasty Fresca Pizza this Tuesday night. But then I changed my mind for meatier fare. Luckily, Clubhouse was in the neighbourhood. Although their triple fried fries was tempting, I opted for a healthier sandwich and soup combo (+$3).

The pumpkin and chickpeas soup came in a substantial bowl. Though tonight is warmer than usual, the hot and buttery puree went down very pleasantly. The chickpeas were soft but not mushy. As for the chicken sandwich ($7), it was delicious. Soft buns held a tasty combination of smoked chicken, pork crackling, and fried avocado. The chimi churrie sauce rounded out the flavour. The only downside: I could eat two.

Slow ... Then Fast

After indie band Forest City Lovers called it quits, singer Kat Burns (as Kashka) quickly puts out two "folkpoptronica" albums. Sunday night, I dropped by The Drake Underground for a special performance celebrating the 1 year anniversary of the sophomore album (and the release of Bones, an acoustic EP).

Kashka's songs are  fun with intelligent lyrics. But Burns' quiet demeanor makes it an awkward fit with the synth music onstage. Tonight, her two sets were much more her style. For the acoustic set, it was an all-female band. Burns had enlisted several friends to do back-up vocals, piano, and cello (Prophet, Lamplight, and new number Repeat). This made the set reminiscent of FCL. But with the more straightforward lyrics and arrangements, this felt more accessible.

For the amped set, it was a full band tonight. She has decided to dial down the synth and augment the guitar parts. Add in a propulsive drummer and bassist, and this was engaging, muscular pop. Again, the "mainstream" material made it less indie and more rock. Burns just need to include some exuberant stage dancing and we'd have a winning formula.

If finances weren't a problem for the music scene, Kashka should be a superband comprising of both parts. They'd be guaranteed of mainstream success (with some luck). Unfortunately, as FCL demonstrated, it's hard to make money as a sprawling collective.

We Can Be Hiros

I don't usually go to movies because of the lack of diversity as well as the rising ticket price. On Saturday, I made an exception to see the new Disney CGI film Big Hero 6 at the Yonge/Dundas Entertainment complex. To get to the theatre, you have to ascend through several levels of stores and restaurants. Since I was already paying a premium, I decided to see it in UltraAVX instead of 3D.

The screen was quite large in this day of shrinking screen size. In fact, the whole movie theatre felt substantial (e.g., a going-out experience) including the reclining seats. I also thought that being able to reserve seats in advanced was a positive (since I was pushing it coming from a dinner in Koreatown).

The film centered around a teen named Hiro Hamada living in San Fransokyo. Although he was smart enough to design winning robots in underground bot fights, his brother Tadashi felt Hiro should apply himself and join his alma mater. After a tragedy killed Tadashi, Hiro joined up with the latter's colleagues to form a "superhero" team. One member of this outfit was an invention of Tadashi, a roly-poly inflatable robot called Baymax. Although meant as a "health care helper", Hiro re-purposed his new friend as an armoured fighter. Well, more or less, since Baymax acted better as a comic to Hiro's straight man.

The "superhero" and fight scenes were run-of-the-mill. The scenes that excelled were the interactions between Hiro and his new friend Baymax, and also with the other "nerds". I appreciated that the main protagonist as well as several secondary and bit-part characters were Asian-Americans, not only on-screen but also with the voice actors. Nothing special was made of their ethnicity outside of darker hair and eyes: no funny accents or fresh-off-the-boat jokes. The locale of San Fransokyo was more "exotic" with signage and buildings. But ever since Blade Runner, nothing says futuristic megacity than flying vehicles and neon kanji. One down side was the weak female characterization, though 2 of them were "kick-ass" but only in the tough-action-chick manner. Overall, this was a fun movie for both adults and kids.

Dance Like No One's Watching

Friday night, I attended a NextStep dance performance at the Fleck Theatre. I have a love/hate relationship with the work from the Toronto Dance Theatre. Some pieces I enjoy, others I can't stop rolling my eyes. Looking over the program called Triple Bill, I noticed that 2 of the works involve improvisional movements. Oh, dear. It's going to be a long night.

The 2nd piece was the most enjoyable. A remount of Early Departures (1992), this work originally looked at gay relationships during the HIV/AIDS era. As such, 4 men dressed in business attire come together and split apart. Each pairing usually involves one man who collapses or falls. His partner(s) attempt to revive, manipulate his body or carry him. Eventually, they give up. This theme iterates over several evolving scenarios. The work was both strange yet compelling.

The book-end pieces Martingales and Pond Skater had dancers create spontaneous movement. With the first, the underlying theory of Brownian motion originally has dancers playing a game of ball in which they twist and spin to throw a ball. Then the movement translates to masses of people who race around the stage: backwards, forwards, in pairs. They never touch but their motions do impact each other. If some begin to spin and twirl, then others eventually adopt these movements.

Pond Skater had a similar approach. But the work was broken into several segments. Within each segment, a particular set of movements predominate forcing the dancers to improvise within constraints. I do admire the body control and spatial awareness needed for improvisation. But I think it leads to safe choreography (nobody wants to fall on their ass) and not much partner work. It was like watching a long and ultimately boring game of "I'm not touching you".

Summertime Past

Summer might be in the rearview mirror, but the bands playing Thursday night at the Horseshoe had music that evoked that feel-good vibe. First up was Only Yours at their first show. But since a few members belonged to recently defunct roots band Great Bloomers, the floor was full for their early set. The Phil Collins t-shirt and Tears For Fear deco on the guitar amp were a clear giveaway. They played synth-heavy love songs (Endless Night, Your Word Is Gold) that were reminiscent of 80s slow jams. Even the guitars were fed through effects to give them that digital sound. Time to snuggle up with your special friend (or accomodating stranger).

Next up was Stella Ella Olla. I thought I had seen them before, but I was wrong. I've certainly heard them mentioned on the local scene. Well, I should have gone to see them sooner because they played great music: jangly upbeat pop, odd lyrics, and danceable. They played through their entire 1st album from Summerette to Peter Sellers, as most songs only clocked in between 2-3 minutes. The lyrics to Proud Mother Stomp ("Once I'm sure you made your mother proud") were modified to reflect the recent election. When the critics described Alvvays music as summertime fun, this (Stella's music) is more what I had in mind.

The Meligrove Band has been around for more than a decade. They reunited and had just finished a new album after a few years on hiatus. The fans were excited to see them back for the release show. Both new and old songs had common elements: propulsive drums, harmonizing guitars, high-fretted bass melodies, and Jason Nunes' slightly plaintive singing. The crowd came to hear the love songs (Our Love Will Make The World Go Round) but also a few new tunes. The band's penchant for numerous musical changes meant that they often created their own "medley" by stringing together several tunes. Appropriately enough, they ended the night with new song Don't Wanna Say Goodbye.

Off With Her Head

I enjoyed eating at Queen Margherita, but this pizzeria's location in the far east end means that I don't make it out there often. So I was excited to hear that a location has opened at Bathurst and Dundas in the past week. Braving the cold autumn rain and construction, I made my way down Tuesday night to try it out.

It's located in a 2-level set-up, the previous site of a carpet store. Right above is Hard Luck Bar; you can hear live music playing faintly through the ceiling. The street level contains a few tables, but the basement is quite large and comfortable. This space is much bigger than its parent though it loses a bit of the cozy trattoria feel. I sat down two tables over from celebrity chef Susur Lee (one of his restaurant, Bent, is just a few doors down). He has just finished his dinner. "Awesome", I thought, "If Lee eats here, this must mean I'm in for a treat with my $29 prix fixe."

How wrong I was. The dinner started nicely enough: an arugula salad sprinkled with goat cheese, dried cranberries, and roasted pecans. I don't like acidic dressing but the saltiness of the cheese and the sweet fruit created a better balance of flavour. The Calabrese came out looking top-notched: generous toppings of sausage and parmigiano and still smoking crusty dough. But after one bite, I couldn't believe how salty it was. I separated out the ingredients. The cheese: slightly salty but typical; the sausage: a little too much so; but even the tomato and dough were too aggressive. Add them up and it was inedible. The pie was just barely tolerable after I scraped off most of the toppings. This was the worst pizza I've ever eaten. The mediocre tiramisu capped off a bad dinner.

The service was no great shakes either. As a non-drinker, I usually expect low-priority service from the waitstaff because I'm not padding out my bill with profitable booze. But even by those standards, I might as well have been invisible. Luckily, there are plenty of other pizzeria options in the west end.

Sidhe No Evil?

Saturday evening, I was at The Storefront Theatre for The Skriker (Caryl Churchill) by The Red One Collective. This creepy play about faerieland would have been perfect for Halloween. But today is The Day of the Dead, so still appropriate. Among the theatre goers, there were people in costumes. After redeeming my ticket, I received a marble from someone in a Jason-esque get-up. A masked girl led us around the back of the building where we gave our marble to a twitchy hag. The usual stage set-up has been reversed so that we sat facing what would usually be the theatre's entrance.

It turns out the hag and other otherwordly creatures including Black Annis, Nellie Longarms were at once both faerie (or perhaps more unseelie) and incarnations of The Skriker. The "main" Skriker (Claire Armstrong) set the scene in a long introduction. Speaking in rambling word associations, it hinted at perhaps territorial conflict between mankind and its own self. Though some of the non-sequiturs made funny jokes, this bowler-hatted creature was no merry leprechaun.

The action centered around the pregnant Lily (Perrie Olthius) and Josie (Suzette McCanny). These young, "lower-class" sisters found themselves in some sort of institution. The former decided that she needed to run away from there. The latter seemed off-kilter due to some private trauma, and insisted that one of the residents was a supernatural creature hundreds of years old. Josie warned Lily to not befriend it, and certainly do not accept its offer to grant wishes.

Both girls escaped separately and found themselves in London. The Skriker, and its various incarnations, attached itself to the women. It tried to ingratiate itself and establish a relationship, whether as friend, cherubic charge, or romantic partner. Each attempt usually fell apart from its simmering rage or alien incomprehensibility. There were obviously strings attached to any promises offered by this mercurial creature.

It was an interesting perspective on normalcy and madness. If your surroundings (as you see it) such as your couch, bed, or TV come to life as disfigured creatures, how would you react? If every person that you interact with (in your experience) is just a different disguise for the same person, can you trust anyone?

The large cast played their role well. But I wasn't quite convince of the coaching directions for Lily and Josie. Sometimes, they reacted to the strange going-ons with practical matter-of-factness; at other times, screeching hysteria. I personally think a normal person would progress from one state to the other (in either direction) instead of this see-saw. The guitar-playing of Andy Trithardt (Kelpie) added to the creepy atmosphere.

Forget It Jake, It's Chinatown

On Saturday, I thought about trying a restaurant in the East end on Queen St. I never made it there but I did end up in Chinatown East. This smaller enclave was less busy than the main one on Spadina and lacked the ubiquitous T-shirt shops. It has also seen some gentrification with a bakery/cafe or two. There were a few sufficiently stocked grocery stores for me to make a few purchases.

I stopped by Rose Cafe. This small Vietnamese sandwich is the perennial go-to spot in any cheap eats article. It was identical to most of these places including Nguyen Huong downtown and Le's Sandwich in the west end: subs, dried goods, and various Vietnamese snacks. Unlike the "high end" banh mi making their ways into mainstream restaurants, the ones here remain modestly priced. In addition to some glutinous rice-based desserts ($1.50/each), I got a shredded chicken sub for $2.50.

Heading East, I noticed a Vietnamese restaurant (Que Linh) just off Gerrard on Boulton. It had a cozy look, being located in a re-zoned house. Could this be a hidden gem? First signs were good: a bunch of cramped tables in a small space, and all occupied; the menu was small; and the prices were cheap. $5 for a small pho? I haven't seen prices like this in years. Also a first: a waitress taking my order instead of me writing it down. I got a plate of pork rice crepes ($5) and a large pho ($6).

The food was good but not excellent. The rolls were thin and nicely soaked up the fish sauce. But the lettuce side was sad; it should be diced cucumbers and a plethora of fresh herbs. The pho noodles and broth were tasty on a cold day. The beef cuts were too thick though and there weren't enough greens. A gem perhaps, but not a diamond. I would visit this place if I was in the neighbourhood.

Still Thrill

With Halloween tomorrow, all-female Weezer cover band Sheezer was holding their 5th annual Halloween bash at Lee's Palace Thursday. As before, they enlisted several female acts as opener. Instead of a graduate of Girls Rock Camp Toronto like in the past 2 years, The Lonely Parade came from Girls Rock Camp Peterborough. This trio played music that was somewhere between punk and math rock, lots of hard-driving chords interspersed with multiple changes and syncopated riffs. As a punk band, they have the noisy chops. But if they are adding more complexity to their music, they will need to be crisper and less sloppy, especially in the interactions between the 3 members. However, songs like Hey Felix show promise.

Petra Glynt is the strangest invitee to a Sheezer show as yet, and tonight's crowd didn't know how to react to her noisy loops and synth. I saw her at a Long Winter show, and was interested to hear her with a better sound system. Her classical voice training came through in a rich resonant tone. But she was more interested in building layers of cacophany sitting on top of primal, driving beats pounded out by her on the bass tom. Her newer songs, which explored more poly-rhythm and less chaotic droning, were definitely more accessible. If you can tap your toes to it, even a skeptical crowd can enjoy avant-garde compositions.

The song Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) signaled the entrance of the ladies of Sheezer. No wonder, since this year their costumes came from Tarantino's kung-fu homage: The Bride (Robin), high-school bodyguard Gogo Yubari (Alysha), Yakuza boss O-Ren Ishii (Dana), and sadistic nurse Elle Driver (Laura). These were attractive outfit, especially Laura's peek-a-boo nurse uniform, and came perilously close to the "sexy costume" trope. This led them to humorously riff on next year's costumes, perhaps a Twin Peaks homage with a "sexy David Lynch".

Unlike other Sheezer shows, there were no later Weezer songs (like Hash Pipe) tonight. It was all Blue and Pinkerton (Tired of Sex, Buddy Holly, Say It Ain't So) much to the delight of the crowd who sang, chanted, and clapped along. With die-hard Weezer fans in the front, even the less popular tunes had a good number who knew all the words. A mosh pit formed now and then, to the slight consternation (fun but scary!) of some less bro-ish fans. Halloween costumes weren't just limited to the band members. So Andrew WK, a tin woman, a mucho libre, and two Airdancers joined them on stage for Undone (The Sweater Song). This led to the delightful scene of the two mascots (complete with flailing arms) who, with the crowd's exhortation, stage-dove and were borne aloft. I don't know if an actual Weezer concert would be as much fun.

Setting: Dance Hall

Entering random contests means you sometimes win unexpected prizes. So I went with my free tickets to the Danforth Music Hall on Wednesday night for some dance music. It was a sparse crowd simply because of the venue's large size. There were 4 acts including 2 DJs. Though there was some dancing, most people were mostly inert for their sets.

The crowd was more welcoming of Chela, a singer from Australia. Armed with a Mac, some synth, and an excitable drummer, she ran through a quick set of dance songs. The arrangement was sparse but propulsive: mostly drums, some bass, and some skittering chords or riffs. Without a lot of melodic backing, she did wander a bit off-key. Understandable since most people struggle to stay on-key without chord accompaniment. Perhaps there are "chord" tracks for singers similar to a drummer's click track.

The head-liner was also from Australia, a duo called The Presets. I was interested to hear "actual dance music" as opposed to the current synth-pop cross-over fad from indie musicians (Austra, Metric, Kashka). It became clear that it was musically less complex in arrangement and beat. On the other hand, it was easy to dance to and simple to mix into a flowing, non-stop set. They covered their hits such as Young Man and This Boy's In Love. It could be dull watching two people fiddling knobs and banging metronomically on synth pads. Luckily, they had an interesting light show.

In addition to the venue's lights, their stage setup included dozens of hexagons laid out in honeycomb shapes. They provided lights and effects for the show including numerous colour changes, moving patterns, and dazzling pulses and flashes. I'm guessing the technology is quite similar to sending graphics commands to a computer monitor and a specialized controller would convert the instructions to coordinate the hexes. It was too bad no one snuck in a video game reference. I was hoping for an homage to Nibbles (the QBasic snake game installed on every PC) or perhaps Q-Bert.

I was probably too old to really love tonight's music. But I did sneak in a move or two, as much as my creaking body allowed.

The Agony of the Eat

I was unhappy with Tuesday's municipal election results. Toronto was still in the grips of right-wing ideologues and its city council remained woefully unrepresentative of its diversity. What to do but drown my sorrow in comfort food. So I headed to Essen, a new diner at Dundas and Dovercourt. True, I'm not Jewish but this spot does offer family-style fare.

The inside was spacious but bare-bones. A few knick-knacks adorned the wall along with a collection of Bar Mitzvah portraits. Similar to most Jewish eateries, the menu skewed Eastern European (Ashkenazi) such as beef briskets and chopped liver. But unusually there were nods to the Middle East (Sephardic) with falafel platters and the use of Israeli ingredients in dishes. There were also fusion entrees including Jewish ramen (with matzo balls and kreplach!) and banh mi.

I opted for some pickles ($5) and a schnitzel platter ($16). First came some complimentary pita and hummus. The pita wasn't fresh from the oven a la District Oven but still good. The dip was light and fresh so I finished the whole thing, even knowing I'll break out in red spots later. The main was quite substantial, I was fairly full at the end. The chicken schnitzel was crispy and nicely spiced. Unfortunately, the cabbage rolls and its rice stuffing needed a firmer hand. It went ok with the variety of pickles (beet, green beans, egg) but was bland on its own (and a bit stringy). Tonight's green was rapini sauteed with garlic and with a spray of chili peppers. A good side dish, but I like my greens bitter.

Essen is a nice spot with some tasty dishes. I'll have to definitely come back for the ramen (which I assume would not use a pork-based broth). It is opened for both dinner and lunch/brunch.

Armed and Flangerous?

Sunday night, I dropped by Lee's Palace for a night of female-fronted bands. First up was local punk-pop outfit BB Guns. They were the most energized of the 3 groups. Songs such as Bang and (She Thinks She's So) Soho were fast and furious, with multi-part harmony and crunchy guitar. There were also lots of bopping around, except for the keyboard player, who was probably 8-months pregnant.

Ex Cops of Brooklyn promised a melding of noise with 90s pop. But they had trouble with their synth. So it was down to a guitar, some drums, and the harmony of Amalie Bruun and Brian Harding. But it was a let-down: an abbreviated set played mostly in the dark. For whatever strange reasons, the house lights were dimmed for this middle set. Without the pop layering of their recording, and not much to look at, the crowd responded with tepid applause.

Dum Dum Girls have definitely gone more pop than surf-punk since I saw them a few years ago. In tight dresses and exhibiting cool mien for the most part, this girl group was a match for their mid-tempo music (Bedroom Eyes, Lost Boys and Girls Club). Lead singer Dee Dee Penny channeled the aloof women of Robert Palmer's Simply Irresistable even at her most plaintive. Their sweet harmony (much more prominent live) elevated songs such as Coming Down. They did reach back in their catalogue for punkier I Got Nothing and He Gets Me High as well as a soft cover of Strawberry Switchblade's Trees and Flowers. Overall, it was an odd vibe for the night. The fans obviously loved the music, and even danced now and then, but there was a distance between the band and the crowd. Even if one pony-tailed dude ascended to heaven after Penny sang directly to him for a few lines, their set felt detached.

Burbs Blurbs

Over the last two week-ends, I spent some time in the suburbs. They were nice enough but only served to convince me that I'm an urban person through and through. Before leaving Ottawa, I visited some friends. We headed to Fusion, an all you can eat sushi place in Kanata. Incredibly, this suburb is no longer at the edge of the greater Ottawa area. Bedroom communities have sprung up in Stittsville and other places.

AYCE sushi has come a long way. They all offer other options including dim sum, Korean dishes, etc. The quality isn't bad. But with prices creeping up to $35, it doesn't seem like such a good deal. Although with kids in tow, there's a good chance you can find something for them. The special dishes here included dessert sushi. These were ice cream stuffed inside Vietnamese fresh roll. We all agreed that if you wanted a chewy ice cream dessert, they might as well offer mochi.

Back in Toronto this week-end, I headed out to Burlington to see other friends. This was only fair, as we always meet up downtown. My first trip on the commuter train was a pleasant one. But during rush hour, it may not be as spacious. Two women spent the whole trip discussing their love life. Apparently, Tinder is where it's at nowadays.

Burlington, or at least the areas near the Appleby station, was quiet. I could see the attraction compared to Mississauga, which combines suburban sprawl with noisy and dense traffic. On the other hand, the teenagers hanging around Appleby Village Mall seemed bored. Dinner consisted of sushi, roast chicken, and pie. Conversation revolved not around the typical topic of raising children but the various drug regiments needed to keep the body going. My takeaway was that Dr McCoy in the Voyage Home was right to compare 20th century medicine to trepanning. We use them as blunt instruments without much true understanding. Take this pill for this problem, then this other pill to fix any side effects of the 1st, and so on. Old age is not looking too pleasant from my perspective.

Dadiji's Kitchen

Expecting to eat a heavy dinner, I decided on a light lunch for Saturday. Now I wouldn't put most Indian meals in that category but I heard that new-ish The Tiffin Box at Bathurst and Bloor may be different. This tiny shop is located a few blocks just north of the subway station with just a handful of tables and a couple of window seats.

The Tiffin Box is literally a mom-and-pop establishment, with an older Indian couple working behind a small kitchen/counter. So one of the drawbacks is the slow service. If there are more than 2 orders before yours, expect a wait. You should still go, but preferably during a non-busy time, because the food here is both delicious and freshly made (with vegetarian, vegan, and even gluten-free options.)

I ordered a dosa ($7) with the unusual choice of butternut squash. I've eaten a similar offering (veggie Caribbean roti) from Vena's Roti so I knew it was likely to be a good flavour combination. It was indeed a tasty choice. A mildly spiced mix of potatoes, butternut squash, and chori beans made a wonderful filling for the crispy lentil crepe shell. Importantly, it was light on the oil and ghee. Even the tomato and coconut chutney were fresh, as evidenced by their coarsely ground ingredients. The only disappointment was the portion size of the sambar that came with the platter. Because a few spoonful of this fragrant soup weren't enough. Next time I'll have to order an extra helping.

Dead-Pan Alley

The 7-9 pm show Thursday night at the Dakota Tavern was best appreciated by those with a dry wit. Both acts specialized in pop songs sung in a sardonic manner, full of funny quips and verses. The opening act (though they played for the bulk of the time slot) was The Burning Hell, who have mostly moved to Newfoundland from Toronto. Fronted by Mathias Korn (who opened with My Name Is Mathias), a smaller version of the wildly bearded Ben Caplan, this trio played fun tunes. Korn told long stories with his music covering topics like fairy tales (Bedtime Stories) and pet euthanasia (Kings of the Animal Kingdom). His lyrics were unusual for pop with interesting phrasing and rhyme. Almost like a good showtune ... or perhaps a dense rap song (Amateur Rappers). But whether it was an eulogy for a robber baron (Industrialists) or a gig gone wrong (Realists), most had 3-part harmony refrains that were pure pop bliss. Ariel Sharrat, in addition to her singing duties, added great ornamentation with her dulcet clarinet.

With less than 30 minutes, Blimp Rock played an abbreviated set. Their songs were also atypical (Lake Ontario Lifeguards, If My Friends Ran The Government, Sensitive Boy). Peter Demakos' vocals had a similar understated irony to Korn's. You could imagine them both winking at you while singing. Since they didn't do their whole Blimp Rock Inc. schtick tonight, I thought they could have replaced some of the jokier songs with more straightforward pop. I missed hearing Monogamy Blues and Dancing On My Own from their Tranzac set.

Fly Me To The Moon

Tuesday evening, I headed to the TIFF theatre to see the newest Ghibli's movie: The Tale of The Princess Kaguya. Although directed by Isao Takahata, luckily this film was not the bleak despair of his masterpiece Grave of the Fireflies. There were some moments of melancholy, but many more scenes of laughter and joy. Tonight, there was a chat session afterward with Now Magazine's movie critic Norm Wilner.

The film was a straight re-telling of the folktale Princess Kaguya. An old bamboo cutter finds a tiny hand-sized baby inside a bamboo stalk. He and his wife decide to raise her as their own. The child grows at a prodigious rate. Also finding gold and other treasures inside other bamboos, he decides to build a grand mansion in the city to befit his child's status as a "heavenly princess". News of her beauty incite several noble men into attempting to win her.

Unlike the typical "anime" style, this film looked like a water-colour painting come to life. But think less Western painting, but more the Eastern style of Japanese scrolls (complete with exaggerated heads). This gave the movie an ethereal quality that matched its slow, quiet story. However, its deceptively simple style will probably not thrill all anime or Ghibli's fans. Though sticking to the folktale, Takahata has included story elements that lent themselves to various interpretations.

We touched on some of these during the chat. The easiest, as pointed out by Wilner, were allegorical references to parenthood and growing up, especially a parent's perhaps mistaken assumption about what was best for their children. Others saw a commentary on Buddhist's teachings of detachment and Samsara (with the arrival of the "heavenly hosts") or a rejection of Japanese traditional values (Kaguya's rebellion against being trained to be a prim princess).

They were mostly wrong. Particularly risible was Wilner's contention that Kaguya was different from the other "moon people" because of the way she was drawn. A casual perusal of Buddhist art would show that many Buddhist "deities" and characters are illustrated with a reference to the "original" Buddhists (namely South Asians). This would make them look markedly different from the Japanese Kaguya.

Takahata was concerned with illusion and change. Kaguya's 5 suitors compared her to mythical treasures. When she challenged them to return with these artefacts, all were shown to be fake; whether fraudulently made or bought by them. Gifted with real treasures, the bamboo cutter used them to construct a glittering falsehood of gentility and nobility for his family. Even Kaguya was deceived. She realized too late that she had forgotten that her goal (when she was living in Heaven) was to experience life on Earth, not fill her mortal rebirth with needlework and deportment lessons.

In contrast, Takahata included a folk song sung by Kaguya's on several occasions. Its verses talked of animals, seasons, the cyclic nature of the world. Her best memories were her time with the mountain folk, who lived according to the seasons. Life is change, life is real; illusion is often static construction. Yet we must also be careful and not be fooled by illusory change. Consider the princess' abode: the Heavenly moon, which changes as it wax and wane, yet is in reality eternal and fixed in the sky.

Lost In Translation

Monday night, I headed over to CBC Studios for a performance from Hey Rosetta!, a sprawling band from St. John's, Newfoundland. Radio host Tom Power was quite excited to introduce them. Being also from that city, he described the pride that Newfoundlanders felt for a band that "made it" with original material and not old folk songs.

The 7 members took to the stage in a circular studio set-up, with the audience surrounding them. Some in the crowd were quite excited to be there, having even brought their own egg shaker. With most members playing multiple instruments, they needed more than 20 mics for the set up. Until they really hit it big, it is unlikely any club or bar venue will give them as good a staging as tonight.

The pristine sound mix highlighted their complex sound palette: layers of guitar, strings (violin/cello), horns (trumpet/french horn), and driving drums and bass. I wouldn't quite describe them as "orchestral" like Power, but they did possess a rich texture. Ironically, this made their set dragged in the middle. Every song stretched to 7-8 minutes but only a handful deserved the treatment. With 11 tunes all following the soft, loud, soft, build-up, fade-out, etc template, I was zoning out after awhile. Long-time fans, though, reveled in every change and transition. The bulk of the songs came from their new album Second Sight (Gold Teeth, Cathedral Bells, Harriet) but Hey Rosetta! also played some old favourites (Bandages).

Hands Off

There were lots of music choices on Saturday: Fleetwood Mac at the ACC, The Wooden Sky at Lee's, and a number of indie bands including Diana and Parallels at Adelaide Hall. As such, 3030 Dundas in the Junction was low on my list. But one of my favourite local bands, Hands & Teeth, was calling it quits. So I decided to go see their last show.

With a number of side/new projects and even an incipient move to L.A. for one member, it was perhaps time for this melodious pop band to end it after 5 years together. Despite their sweet harmony, energetic songs, and physical attractiveness, they never got traction on the music scene. There was a good crowd, both curious listeners and fans, for the show. Hands & Teeth mostly played newer songs from their latest EP (Easy, Not The Same) or unreleased tracks (Kids). The sound mix, rather poor last time I was here, did a good job tonight highlighting their multi-part harmonies and catchy bass. The set ended with their last single, Cactus, released only a few weeks ago and Race To The End, the 1st song on their 2010 debut album. A song they haven't "played in 3 years". Then it was time for a final bow and hugs all around.

Vancouver The Venal

Saturday night, I attended a "live film noir" at the Bluma Appel Theatre. The main conceit of the play Helen Lawrence was the projection of the action, along with some technological wizardry, onto a scrim covering the front of the stage.

After a short visit to an insane asylum in L.A. in 1947, most of the action took place in Vancouver with a large cast of characters including corrupt cops, "coloured" gangsters, molls, and other low lifes. Helen Lawrence (Lisa Ryder) came North to track down Percy Walker (Nicholas Lea), a smooth talker who may have murdered Lawrence's husband and set her up to take the fall. Meanwhile, there was blackmail, double-cross, and other nefarious going-ons in the grimy areas of town.

As some actors played their scene, others operated cameras that projected the action on the "big screen". The marvel was the addition of background, so that the bare stage (with some props like chairs or boxes) was replaced on-screen with CGI-rendered hotel rooms, back alleys, cop cars and hallways. There were also cutaways that had fully realized images of various Vancouver locales.

A fellow patron dismissed it all as "why bother with theatre if you're doing all close-ups?" I enjoyed the play more than she did, but I do agree that it was more movie than play. The whole thing felt a bit like a stunt, similar to those "one-take, live episode" of E.R. or some other TV shows. Its main fault was the unwieldy script, a good half of the cast could be chopped. A film noir should be lean and mean.

The "Hollywood" (real-life vs. cinema) aspect should also have been played up. For example, I enjoyed the contrast between the characters in normal, sometimes colourful, clothes and their black-and-white projections. Was it real or were we on a 40s sound lot? Instead of limiting the cameras to the front and have its operators (as mentioned, also actors in other scenes) in shadows, why not include them with the staging? An actress could finish her lines, and drag a camera into use for a different scene. Over the shoulder shots ... why not? Placing cameras all over the stage might have made the green screening more difficult, but still doable. Perhaps the effects could even be projected directly onto the stage, which is also within the realm of the possible.

Ultimately, Helen Lawrence seemed to be a weak attempt at Tear The Curtain. Kim Collier, who created and directed the latter play, was originally onboard for Lawrence but was no longer involved. Her vision might have saved this production.

Oo Long, And Thanks For All The Dish

Thanksgiving Dinner

Most Holiday dinners that I attend usually comprise a mix of culinary tradition. This year, my Thanksgiving meals were strictly Asian. For lunch, I met a friend for Dim Sum at Mandarin Ogilvie (not related to the buffet franchise in Toronto). This old-school place still had the food carts rolling down the aisles, although the servers were younger than the usual crusty waitress. We ordered the typical dishes: har gow, siu mia, ribs, shrimps, sticky rice, et al. They were all edible but not particularly outstanding. Without the competition in Toronto, little details added up: dumpling shells a little too thick, meat and seafood a touch overcooked, etc. The good news was that my friend has left the Lonely Hearts Club. Which led to a "deep thought". Could something remain a club with only 1 member?

Sunday dinner had no turkey or roast beef. The appetizers were variations of the fresh roll. The shrimp was plump but the shell was left on. That was an unfortunate oversight. The nem (marinated raw pork "ceviche") had a tangy flavour with a bite from the peppercorn. Of course, what completed these rolls were a well-prepared fish sauce dip.

Then came the balut eggs. I wasn't sure that after decades of a Westernized palate I could handle these half-fertilized duck eggs now. Luckily, these were not the 21-day "Fear Factor" version (complete with feathers, bones, and beak) beloved of TV shows. At 14 days, it was a mixture of yellow yolk and (shall we say) tender protein. With a dash of salt and pepper and Vietnamese mint, it was interesting but mostly tasted like egg. I wouldn't say that there was anything particularly distinctive about the flavour. Three hints for any takers: one, crack and eat from the large end; two, be willing to slurp the juice; three, don't eat the egg white at the small end - it has harden into the consistency of stone.

After a few sticky dumplings stuffed with minced tofu and onions, the main dish came out. It was a duck and dried bamboo vermicelli soup. Of course, these Vietnamese soups always come with a mound of fresh and fragrant herbs including lettuce, basil, perilla, and crunchy banana flowers. The only misstep was in the zeal to "eat healthy", too much fat was sliced away from the duck, leaving a broth that could have been richer. After cake for dessert, I was ready to go to bed early.

A Night At The Opera

It was a dark and stormy Tuesday night as I made my way to The Opera House at Queen E and Broadview. It has probably been more than a decade since I was last here for an ABBA cover band. I don't know why I don't visit more often, though this venue does tend to book Metal bands, because the sound was impeccable.

The faux fresco and ornamentation were also appropriate for tonight's music. Both acts played quiet, introspective songs. New Zealand trio Tiny Ruins took the stage at 9 pm. Unlike their mismatched set at the grungy Garrison, the sound mix allowed the complex plucking of guitarist/singer Holly Fulbrook to shine and added depth to Cass Basil's bass and Alexandre Freer's drums. The crowd was sufficiently hushed, with only chatterboxes in the back, to hear her wistful lyrics on songs such as Priests With Balloons and Reasonable Man. They ended their low-key set with the driving She'll Be Coming Round.

Sharon Van Etten came on stage around 10:30. Despite her wise-guy New Jersey accent: "This is a great venue. I feel so fancy", her set comprising of songs from her 2014 album Are We There were marked by raw honesty. Whether on Break Me, I Love You But I'm Lost, or Nothing Will Change, the lyrics were soul-baring and authentic. But I didn't find the mid-tempo arrangements on most tunes very interesting. Van Etten did cover a few older songs including Save Yourself ("I'm playing this for my mother. She always tells me she thinks my old stuff was better.") She ended the night with her most radio-friendly tune, the head-bobbing Every Time The Sun Comes Up.

Coffee Talk

Both Monday and Tuesday night, I was invited to dinner. Generally speaking, a meal made by someone else always taste better. The Monday dinner was a simple but tasty affair of vegetarian spaghetti. Tuesday's was also vegetarian but more elaborate for a dinner party. Warm and fragrant apple and celery root soup was followed by a savoury cauliflower cake, sauteed bean sprouts, lentils with goat cheese, roasted pumpkin, and a dessert of apple crumble and pear sorbet. My favourite was the cauliflower and soup: subtle and flavourful. Oddly, despite its rich colour, the pumpkin was a bit bland.

But the conversations were equally interesting. My Monday host was Jewish so we got to discussing the various rituals, considering that this time of year has a succession of Holidays: Rosh Shashanah, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot. I read an English translation of the numerous interpretations of valid and invalid sukkah (hut) that are to be built. Makes reading a technical manual seem easy by comparison!

Tuesday,  the current political landscape in Toronto got top billing. With all guests of a liberal bent, the saga of the Ford brothers and their continued support was a large source of exasperation. Since it was also part of the 1000 dinners TO event, we also discussed ways to improve the city. Those with children leaned toward daycare and housing affordability. The childless were more into social justice issues including minority representation and gentrification. I would have liked to hear more daring solutions, even if in the real-world they would need to be toned down. I also wondered about the make-up of the other dinners. Were there any that included guests with true differences of opinion, or did we all gathered with like-minded individuals? Toronto describes itself as a city of neighbourhoods, but I often think this is true not just at the physical level. We have not just two but a multitude of solitudes.

Kurios-er

On Saturday, I headed down to the Portlands to see the latest Cirque du Soleil spectacle entitled Kurios (Cabinet of Curiosity). It has been years since I've seen a show from this Montreal-based circus. They are known for having themed and well-choreographed acts.

Approaching the big-top, Kurios had a Victorian-era Steam-punk-esque vibe with its clockwork sign and an ornamented metal arch. Outside, a multi-geared contraption could be pedaled from an old-timey bicycle. Like most Steampunk affectations, it didn't actually do anything. Inside was pure 21st century consumerism though as booths after booths hawk wares from merchandise and souvenirs, popcorn, snacks, soft drinks, and booze. After passing into the inner flaps, we finally saw the set.

A mad scientist of sorts was conducting various experiments. His robot servitors wandered about under his directions doing chores like sweeping the floor. There were more Steampunk inventions including Victrola/typewriter hybrids. Finally, he and us was transported via his flying chair to some unknown location. A steam train rolled into view, and from its front, a gaggle of performers emerge to entertain the us and the absent-minded professor.

Judging from the audience reaction, the most engaging acts were the high-flying ones such as a troupe of fishermen, who revealed themselves to be some sort of gilled undersea creatures. They then proceeded to do ever higher and daring jumps and spins on top of a mesh trampoline that stretched across the circus ring. Those involving objects (juggling, yo-yo) did not get as much love. For the average viewer, it simply wasn't obvious how equally difficult these skills were. The juggler did get cheers for his final trick, as he juggled while suspended 50 feet in the air.

Similarly, the various balancing acts also got the biggest cheers when their tricks involved some height from the ground. One of my favourite was a woman being thrown upside-down and backward into a hand-to-hand handstand. Oh, yes, her partner was himself standing on the shoulders of a 2nd man ... who was standing on the shoulders of a 3rd. I don't think I could stand on one foot without falling over.

I was a bit disappointed with the design. Many performers wore Victorian-inspired costumes; the various "clowns"/handlers were dressed as odd contraptions or robots; and some set pieces were interesting such as the giant metal hand that served as the base for the contortionists. But given its theme, I was expecting some sort of phantasmagoric scene overflowing with gee-gaws. For example, the prop from the Canadian Opera Company's Cosi Fan Tutti, a 2-story giant cabinet of curiosity, would have added some needed oomph.

Tintinnabulation

This dance season, company ProArteDanza celebrated its 10th year anniversary. On Friday, I attended their recital at the Fleck Dance Theatre, a retrospective of their past output.

Act I comprised of a full reprise of their 2010 Dora-winning ...in between... Several vignettes had dancers moving in and out of cohesive movements into disjointed actions. This also occurred as in and out-members of various groupings. The company's style: a dynamic fusion of ballet techniques with a contemporary sensibility was on full display. There were several humorous moments that had the audience laughing including a "follow-the-leader" scene that resembled kids at play. Two large mats made effective props for the troupe: walls for watchers; beds for cavorting lovers or distressed souls; sofas to rest or leap on; even as a "gym mat" for two male dancers to egg each other to ever more daring jumps.

Act II had 9 excerpts from various productions. I had feared that it would not be as engaging with a "So You Think You Can Dance" hodge podge. Though it definitely had the excitement of an "all thriller no filler" show, act II still had meaningful moments. Videos of dance practice projected onto a front scrim in between scenes tied the past to the present. It was also nice to see both the evolution and versatility of the company from the kinetic and angular fractals: a pattern of chaos (2011) and Subsistence (2006) to the classical Unfinished 32 (2005) and Beethoven's 9th - 1st Movement (2009). There were cheers for choreographers Robert Glumbek and Roberto Campanella, who participated in some excerpts including In Full Bloom (2010), a funny examination of aging dancers/men.

Revel Yell

I won some free tickets First Night AGO, a monthly evening art fest at the eponymous gallery. So Thursday night, I headed over to McCaul and Dundas. Since Nuit Blanche was only a 2 days away, there were some "previews". Outside, people were lining up to get their fortunes read at Fastwurm: The Fortune-Teller Machine. But there were no automatons, just people in funny costumes inside a large vehicle. Next to it, there was a "mobile art van" for curious attendees.

Inside, there were more Nuit Blanche installations. People were scratching their heads over Cascade. Inside Walker Court, a group of people (local folks with circus training) were wandering around, twitching and repeating movements. It looked like a convention of OCD or Tourette sufferers. But there were 4 circus ropes hanging from the ceiling. They would calm down if they pulled and contorted themselves up the rope. Elsewhere, if you were dabbed with invisible ink by hazmat-suited personnel, you can head over to Half-Life to see your markings under black light. Finally, at the sound-proof Screaming Booth, you can vent any frustrations or perhaps simply take a short quiet break.

The AGO advertises the big exhibits: Frieda Kahlo, Picasso, and currently Alex Colville. But you tend to forget that new art installations are also done in the main galleries. I was taken with the impressive collection of Native art currently on display. There were historical artefacts, old paintings, and modern take on traditional styles or themes. I enjoyed the "kitschy" room, where humorous art commented on the interaction between mainstream and Aboriginals such as a "Mona Lisa" painting of an Indian "princess" in full regalia. I particularly loved Lifestyles. This set of 4 photos depicted 4 rooms inside an apartment filled to the brim with Indian tchotchkes from the usual suspects: dream catchers and colourful shawls; to Pocahontas t-shirts; fringed suede purses; kitchen stuff; et al. Obviously, this was not so subtle commentary about Native chic (timely with the current fashion trend of wearing feather headdress). But what made the piece was the couple who "lived there", two Native-Americans who were themselves fully bedecked in kitschy Indian clothes. Do they make Native chic cool or acceptable if they embraced it? Ethics aside, this home looked more fun and welcoming than my own. I want to live there, dubious politics notwithstanding.