Free Bird

On Monday, I was at The Mod Club to hear a mostly instrumental set by Donna Grantis. I first encountered this guitarist when she played with Hill And The Sky Heroes while some in Toronto probably remembered her jazz trio. But most people first heard of Grantis when Prince called her to form a backing band with him called 3rdEYEGIRL. That call changed her life and she subsequently played at some of the biggest venues in the world in front of screaming fans. Grantis herself has since settled permanently in Minneapolis and on this new solo outing is returning to her jazz roots with a touch of rock.

This set left me feeling ambivalent. The band on stage was immensely talented but they didn't gel for me. I have written before about my own negative reaction to endless jazz solos. So that was already a turn off for me. Secondly, a lot of the extended ones came from keyboard player James Hill. His love of complicated, atonal solos didn't seem to fit to songs that were more rock or funk. Suphala's fine tabla playing seemed almost an afterthought. Local outfit Autorickshaw does a better synthesis of jazz and Indian drumming. So I appreciated the more straight-forward, rock numbers including during the encore when Grantis invited local friends to sing including SATE.

But other people obviously enjoyed the show more than me. There was one gentleman who yelled his appreciation almost non-stop between songs (and sometimes during them). Others were less obnoxious enthusiastic but still thrilled with the music.

Be Art Her

On Saturday, I was at Handlebar for 2 female-fronted bands who were unexpectedly surprising in different ways. This place is perhaps one of true dive bars left in Toronto if we go by the state and graffiti-evidence of the washroom. It, and the venue The Boat across the street, both cater to a younger crowd.

With the entire band in glitter make-up, and lead singer/guitarist Hannah Bussiere wearing a full sparkling outfit, it was expected that Luna Li would play some dreamy, slightly twee, indie pop. There was some of that with songs like Silver Into Rain, and especially when Bussiere did a solo turn where she layered both guitar and violin riffs. But they also book-ended their set with some hard-driving numbers. This material perhaps hint at a more propulsive direction for them.

Parisian band Halo Maud drove all day from Québec to end their World Tour here in Toronto. It must be slightly odd to play a much larger venue in Montréal a few days ago to doing a set in a small, seedy bar tonight. But they played an impressive set that got several converts lining up for some merch after the show. With her sharp cheek-bones and equally sharp vocal attack to the end of some words, Maud Nadal reminded me of Olivia Merilahti (The Dø). Her simply structured lyrics (both French and English) was reminiscent of some 60s French singers like Christophe. She also showcased a nice variety of guitar techniques. But sometimes Halo Maud would segue from an ethereal sound into an extended prog-rock sonic jam back-ended by their powerful, technical drummer.

Move Your Hips

On Wednesday, I was at The Drake Underground for a solo release album by Lydia Persaud. Opener Mikhail Laxton met Persaud via Instagram and the two have since collaborated when she found out this Aussie musician was currently living in Toronto. With his gruff beard and black outfit, I was expecting some country or americana. But Laxton had a powerful voice that inflected R'n'B. Most of his recent material (Streams, Hurricane, Maybe It's a Good Thing) revolved around an unfaithful ex and his new wife.

Similar to her December show with her folk band The O'Pears, Persaud has gone all-out tonight with a full band, backup singers, and a string quartet. The crowd danced to groovy bangers like More of Me, Honey Child and Well Wasted. She could also do slow-burn ballads like Would You Believe (an ode to love-at-first-sight, something Persaud had previously pooh-poohed), and Low Light where she was joined by her O'Pears pals Meg Contini and Jill Harris. It was interesting to hear about the genesis of each song from the mundane (subletting a bare-bones apartment) to more revealing (not having the energy to invest in a relationship). This was the sort of music that should be played on mainstream radio, elevating pop with superior songwriting.

You Know Something Jon

On Wednesday, I stopped off at Garfield Eats at Bloor and Dovercourt for lunch. This recent take-out spot has generated online chatter and articles, mostly not positive. It is certainly an odd endeavour: an officially Garfield licensed diner, the only one in North America (and Dubai), offering "bad pun" food like Garfuccinos and rewards like goupons. There was no place to sit here. Most of the former laundromat has been turned into kitchen space, with the rest of it devoted to Garfield merchandise.

You immediately notice how pricey the menu is, given the lack of amenities and admittedly kitschy feel. It being Garfield-related, I had to order the spinach and mushroom lasagna ($17.99). It wasn't a very large lasagna given the price, but I liked it compared to people balking online about the orange sauce on the Garfield pizza and so on. There was a good crusted cheese on top and the pasta had a nice mouth-feel. The spinach and especially the mushroom were thick, substantial, and high quality. Maybe their claim of being farm-to-table, sourcing from local vendors, wasn't just marketing speak.

But it wasn't a full lunch and thus hard to justify the price. The farm-to-table aesthetic is welcome and unexpected. But all the custom packaging, oddly thick and durable, with Garfield comic strips and other design elements  must have a high cost overhead. Despite the re-box instructions, I have a hard time seeing who would actually re-use the cheese and oil-covered package as a tissue box. And would anyone actually turn those fancy pizza boxes into paper plates?