Robotron 2011

Friday night at the Rivoli back-room, there was a comic-book fund-raiser. Attendees got a nifty poster showing some local indie bands in super-hero mode. The first act, Foxes In Fiction, opened to a sparse crowd. They were supposed to have been part of the Smashing Pumkins tribute but couldn't make it. A one-man band that was augmented to two for the night, they played slow-tempo tune with lots of effects.

Next up was Nightbox, a band from Ireland that relocated to Toronto about a year ago. It was quite a 180 turn-around. All their songs are fast with a driving beat, reminding me of U2 meets Tears For Fear. Following the current trend of melding rock with electronica, the member who was playing with the samples added that dance element. But the rest of the band kept it in the rock genre. They had a couple of local fans, or at least young women who were impressed by the combination of dance beats and alcohol. Their songs were catchy and danceable, though some of the lyrics were a little bit precious.

The main act is a drum-and-synth duo called Lovely Killbots. Their music was synth-heavy with lots of jazzy, syncopated drums. They also had a collection of psychedelic sci-fi clips projected over them, sometimes giving them funky patterns and images on their bodies. The sound mix failed them though. The male drummer often did the harmony part, but his voice was usually not discernable. That left the female singer with a thin melodic voice that sometimes clash with the chord arrangements. They were at the best singing together over more straight-forward electronica such as Hello My Dear.

There was a final band called Adverteyes scheduled to perform afterward. But I had a 6:45 am train to catch and had to head on home.

For The Love of Todd!

On Saturday night, Wavelength 11th Anniversary Festival (1 louder) had a show at the Great Hall. This venue at Queen and Dovercourt has a large stage, standing room on the floor, and seats on the second level. With an vintage architecture style, it feels like you stepped back in time to the 40s.

First up was Grimes. She's a petite one-girl-band channelling 80s Madonna, Kylie Minogue and a bit of Bjork. With a synth, drum machine, samplers, and a mike she's her very own dance party. It's danceable music except for 2 caveats: Clair Boucher likes to switch up several times in a song which tends to kill the groove, and her stage experience is weak: songs tend to die off abruptly followed by some mumbled apologia. She is going on a US tour which hopefully will hone her skills.

The 2nd band was Eric Cheneux Electric Trio which actually had 4 members, the percussions and drums were split between two people. The percussionist was the happiest performer I've ever seen. He spent the whole set with his eyes closed and a beatific Buddha smile on his face the entire time. Eric was the singer and guitarist who seems to fuse jazz, blues, and folk music together. His songs had wonderful lyrics and melody but the 3 minute odd, atonal guitar solos left me cold. To be fair, the lead guitar mix the whole night had a hard, shrill metallic tone.

Little Girls was an punk band who hook their instruments to a laptop so we can see a digital visualization of their playing. All pedal effects and reverb, it was a bit hard to make out what the singer is singing. They had a lot of energy on stage but their music actually sounds better on CD, where it's easier to hear the mix, than live.

One of the highlight of the night was the penultimate act: Maylee Todd. I didn't know what to expect from this Jamaican-Chinese singer when she came up on stage in a fuzzy white felt suit, half of her face painted like a Maori warrior, with super-elongated false eyelashes. The rest of her band was practically sedate, having only a bit of face paint. When she strapped on a small harp, I thought quirky Bjork. In fact, her first 2 songs (and almost all of the tunes on her debut CD "Choose Your Own Adventure") were quiet, complex and dreamy. As it turns out, Maylee has done a 180 since her CD as evidenced by the last song on it "Aerobics In Space", which she also sang live. Channeling Aretha Franklin and James Brown, she went into full soul/funk mode (check out her new song Hooked) and did all new material. A James Brown who also sometimes like to break out into tribal dance a la Ballet Creole and boogie with a tooth-shaped mascot. The crowd ate up her performance and music, culminating in a Soul Train line dance on the floor. My first encounter with Maylee won't be my last, she's a great act to watch for in the future.

The other highlight is the final band: Hooded Fang. They always put on a good show and I was glad they got a good venue and great sound mix. Although ostensibly the head-liner, the crowd had thinned after Maylee because it was approaching 1 am. No matter, those of us who stayed got treated to catchy, danceable pop songs with lots of opportunities to clap along. They also did 3 new songs, one of which had a great 50s doo-wop feel. I think that one sealed the deal for the two drunk strangers slow dancing next to me. Doobie doobie doo, indeed.

Wayfarer's Rest

Chicken Pot Pie at Woodlot (c) James Chatto

On a blustery Friday night, I checked out Woodlot, a new-ish restaurant that has opened at Palmerston and College. On the ground floor was an open kitchen next to a large wood-burning brick oven. In front of the kitchen was a large communal table for walk-ins. The entire space soared to the roof of the building. The smaller, reserved tables were up a flight of stairs on the mezzanine, which overlooked the main space. Nestled underneath this second story were the bar and bathroom. With the layout and the exposed brick and pipes, I felt like I've entered into some sort of medieval inn for elven hipsters.

I started with some fresh sourdough and a Hendrick's gin. The french onion soup was dark and rich. Though like all restaurants serving this filling soup, there was too much of it. I wouldn't mind a 5 spoon mini-serving. The terrine went well with the bread, but I like a little more earthy organ-meat taste to my pâté. The duck cabbage rolls looked more like wrinkly green tea ice cream scoops and was accompanied by a bed of sauerkraut. It wasn't bad but the duck could be a bit fattier. The potato gnocchi was a bit bland, but the home-made pappardelle with wild boar was delicious. The chicken and ham hock pie, additionally stuffed with winter root vegetables, and topped with a crunchy pastry top was tasty and filling. It was much nicer than the 50-cent-for-two frozen mini meat pies I had back in the 80s. For dessert, the apple tarte tatin came with caramelized entire apple slices and vanilla ice cream; I liked the apple, not so much the ice cream. There was also some sort of giant marshmallow with a creamy filling and wild berries. This particular dish did nothing to change my mind about the culinary mistake that is the marshmallow.

Woodlot serves good food, but not particularly innovative, in a convivial atmosphere. It's a little pricey for a regular haunt if you order multiple items. But if you limit yourself to a main entree, then it'd make a nice place to drop by for dinner if you're not up to cooking that night. That is, assuming you can get a table because everyone is dropping by Woodlot.

Midnight Confession

On Friday, Alliance Francaise did a special cabaret for Valentine's day. With only love, though not necessarily happy, songs, the show had the provocative name Chansons Sur L'oreiller (pillow songs). It was an intriguing premise, but the night turned out to be a dud.

First, I missed out on my free glass of plonk. The usher didn't tell me that you had to get your wine before sitting down. Second, instead of the cute pixie girls with the buttery Parisian accents, a middle aged woman sat next to me. It wasn't her age that bothered me, but rather the way she plopped her purse and coat in the next seat and when queried by a harried usher, baldly lied that she was reserving it. In my head, proper French women would not be so gauche. Finally, the singers didn't have the pipes for the show.

A bed was set up on the slightly raised stage. Two couples, who started the evening snuggled up in bed, led us on a journey from first love, passion, to betrayal, indifference, and finally the inevitable break-up through 22 songs. Sophie Perceval served as MC in the Rive Gauche cabaret and joined in for a song or two. In this one, she was the female vocalist and sang about half the songs, alternating with the male singer. Unfortunately, she's an average singer, about as good as any bathroom crooner, who tends to be a bit flat. Mitch Smolkin sang the other 12 or so songs. He's got a stronger voice, given that he is a musician, but it was still (as Randy Jackson would say) "a bit pitchy". Denis Schingh provided the piano accompaniment.

The problem was that with just piano and voice, a singer needed the power of a balladeer or a broadway singer. You don't have to have a "good" voice to do rock and roll, see Bob Dylan, but you do in a cabaret. After the first couple of songs, I was ready to leave but didn't want to draw attention in the small but packed room. With 22 songs in the set, I was hoping that there would be an intermission when I could have snuck out. No such luck

Song List: Les mots et les gestes; Ce matin-la; Les mots de rien; Reste avec moi; Je ne sais pas ou tu commences; Une nuit sur son epaule; Attention fragile; J'me sens bas belle; Le grand sommeil; Sarah (Georges Moustaki); Il n'aurait fallu; Le lit; De l'amour a l'amour, In der Finster (Dans la noirceur); Fuir le bonheur de peur qu'il ne se sauve, By the Time I Get to Phoenix; Je t'ecris; La chanson des vieux amants; Nous dormirons ensemble; Paper Thin Hotel; Ne me quitte pas; Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye

My Funny Valentine

(c) Victoria Fernandez-Gabica

Wednesday night, I made my way down to the Drake Underground for a very special wedding. Allie Hughes was getting married to her beau Chad. In fact, it was a live music performance posing as a wedding. Two rather tall drag queen took my money. If only all weddings were so cheap. The seats and bar benches have been set up like pews in a church. I sat down after grabbing a beer. Ah, drinking at a wedding ceremony. This is getting better and better.

It took longer than expected for the crowd to fill up, then comic Chris Locke stumbled on stage as Allie's drunk "uncle Ned". Ned provided a hit-and-miss rambling about love, marriage, and sex. I think he should have tried more pick-up lines on all the "hot chicks". The opening band was Henri Faberge and the Adorables, a 6 member band from a ostensibly "commune". Two of Henri's wives had rather hairy legs and chests and were booted off the stage to dance in the front row. How odd, it looks like his "wives" on drums and bass/synth are Dana Snell and Robin Hatch of Sheezer. Lucky guy! The Adorables play a variety of music, all danceable with nice harmonies.

Then Allie Hughes got ready for her ceremony, dressed all in white and veiled. She sang sweet love songs accompanied on harmony by her bridesmaids and a backing band of Cupids, Eros, and Valentinos. Chad came on to exchagne rings and do the duet Not The Stars. But by the end of the song, he left her jilted at the altar. Devastated, Allie went into full diva with her pain, rage, and regret. Here's a quick 9 min compilation shot by the wedding videographer.

The crowd loved every moment. I'm quite impressed with her. It was only about 1 year ago that I saw her a few times singing weird songs, with a band that was quite rough, to a sparse and indifferent crowd. She had a big voice but no act. Since then, she has fine-tuned her show. Her songs are a little more pop but still retain their quirkiness and the band is tighter. Most importantly, she has found a good persona to present her schizoid (in a good way) musical style. Allie might have lost her man but she could have a bright future in show business.

Even an interrupted wedding needs a reception. So the cover band Dwayne Gretzky came on. Hey, is that Chad without his blonde wig? In any case, they covered the Beatles, Billy Idol, hits old and new with a lot of enthusiasm and talent to the delight of the dance floor. The bride even came on for, what else, "I Will Survive". Like other weddings, the combination of music, booze, and loneliness got some in the crowd to check out who's available. I headed home at around 1:30 thinking, "This is the best wedding I've been to!" If only it had an open bar.

Rise Of The Machines

On a snowy Saturday night, I made my way to see some live music at the Garrison. Little did I know that since Jenny Omnichord was stuck in Guelph, the first act was pushed back past 10:30 pm. Finally, Alphabot! came on. A young singer with a strong voice, he was a one-man band. Playing all the instruments: synthesizer, drum machine, violin, and guitar, he laid down some danceable loops. In fact, by the end, he had the sparse crowd up and grooving. But even better, he had various props on the stage including an old TV looping over TV samples, blinking robot heads made from cardboard, and even a lighted apartment building. Best of all, his songs were about robots and other weird topics. It's one of the most enjoyable act I've seen lately.

The only thing weirder than Alphabot! was watching a late 40s/early 50s man making out with an early 20s girl after the set. Before the tonsil hockey match got going, I thought it was a dad chaperoning his daughter to a "dive" bar.

The second act, Spookey Ruben, took forever to start. I think the management realized the crowd wasn't there tonight and just let things slide. There's no excuse for letting a 3-piece band take over 30 min to set up. Unfortunately, it wasn't worth it. There's nothing wrong with the band led by a Bob Hoskins look-a-like. They are technically capable but they just sound like 80s Genesis or Level 42 with the slap bass, guitar, and rock beat. I had more fun watching his hammy short movies being shown on a side wall.

I would have stayed for the head-liner, Wax Mannequin, but by the time Spooky Ruben finished it was already past 12:30 am. Time to head home. I did pick up his recent CD called Saxon. It would have been nice to hear him live because the album contains a number of  interesting melancholic tunes with very dense lyrics and imagery.

Southern Comfort

Near the corner of College and Rusholme is a stretch of storefronts, 974 College St has been a restaurant in two previous incarnations: The Pantry - a prepared food store and a tea and crumpets place. Neither one inspired me to stop by more than the one time. Recently an Italian restaurant called Black Skirt opened there. It specializes in Sicilian and Calabrese fares. This restaurant used to be on the Yonge strip and got fairly lukewarm reviews.

Wednesday night, during a giant snowstorm that was more of a mild one, I decided to drop by to check out the food. The restaurant's decor is going for the rustic feel. They had retained the clear display case to sell some prepared dishes as well as cheeses. Dark wooden shelves stock pasta and sauces. Two large communal tables dominate the front while a row of small tables run the length of the open kitchen in the back. A gate is bolted in the back to suggest a backyard and toilet supplies are stored in wooden crates in the washrooms.

The complimentary bread came in a smooshed brown paper bag accompanied by a sicilian dip in a wood pestle and mortar. The olive oil,  basil, tomato, and garlic mix was a tasty start. For an appetizer, I had a pani cunsato. It was panini-like affair, stuffed with salted anchovies, sundried tomatoes, basil and parmigianno cheese. I enjoyed it, though it was a tad light on the filling. For the main, I chose a Domenica penne. The penne came out in a separate dish from the veal, meatballs, and italian sausage topping, though you are encouraged to just pour the toppings onto the pasta. The veal was hit and miss: the first piece was soft and tender, but the second was overcooked and tough. The meatballs were dry and had to be improved by mashing them up to mix with the tomato sauce. The italian sausage was lightly spiced and delicious. The quality wasn't quite as good as Enoteca Sociale but the portion size was satisfyingly full. But the heavy touch on the meat makes me unsure if it's worth it to try the more expensive meat dishes like osso bucco or the rack of lamb.

There was a good list of wine from which I picked an earthy Italian red. I was too full to try the dessert. There was pizza on the menu but the pizza oven wasn't ready yet. The menu also included panini and other italian sandwiches. Overall, not a bad addition to the neighbourhood.