La Isla Bonita

Saturday evening, I headed over to La Cubana on Roncesvalles. The owner had previously opened French-Cuban bistro Delux on Ossington. But she wanted an authentic Cuban diner to honor her family history. The long diner bar beckoned with its retro appeal, but the day was too hot to sit near open flames. Like most restos in Toronto, this one had a patio; in this case, a small one in the backyard.

With the heat, I decided that a minty mojito ($10) was in order. The combination of bitterness and acidity was refreshing. For the entree, I got the Molasse Roasted Pork Shoulder ($15). The first bite or two was a tad salty, but that must have been some random seasoning accident. The rest of the tender pork was not so aggressive and complemented the rice and beans. The soft slaw made a nice contrast to the crunchy tostones (fried plaintain). It was a tasty meal, not quite as generously portioned as other Latin-American joints, but had subtler, more sophisticated flavour.

Northern Heat

During a blistering Saturday afternoon, I stopped by Yummy Yummy Dumplings (Huron and Dundas St. W) for lunch. The northern-style dumplings arrived to downtown Toronto via popular Mother Dumpling (now with a 2nd non-Chinatown location on the Danforth). But I was given information that YYD was better than both Mother Dumpling and Dumpling House. This basement joint, down a flight of stairs, was definitely not handicap accessible.

Inside was a small space with some modest decorations such as a pair of steppe bows. I ordered rolled beef pancakes ($5.99) and northern whole wheat dumplings ($6.99). Wrapped in aluminum foil to preserve the heat, the greasy fried dough and the hoisin-flavoured beef reminded me of my current favourite "chinese burritos" place (Qian He). A good eat but I prefer the cheaper and more substantial Qian He's. The dumplings here came as boiled, pan-fried, or steamed. Mine was steamed in a bamboo basket and arrived in a tasty mist. The whole wheat wrapper gave each dumpling a chewy toothsome-ness, and the stuffing was good, but I really couldn't distinguish turnip from shiitake. I enjoyed my lunch except that the dumpling came in orders of 10 (!) limiting my ability to pick a larger variety without being a glutton.

Fight For Your Right

My summer of free concerts continued Friday night as I headed down to World Pride to catch a show. I was curious to see Carly Rae Jepsen, but that stage had a line-up 5 blocks long. At another location, there was a good crowd but no queue. This showcase was entitled Decades and would profile some veteran bands important to the gay community.

Blurred Vision fitted in with that mold. Though a modern band, they mined the same 80s territory of guitar solos, rock ballad, and vaguely inspirational lyrics. This classic rock sound was pleasant to listen to but didn't leave much of an impression with me.

The next two bands were long-time queer pioneers on the Canadian scene. It was interesting to see their different approaches. Lorraine Segato (and the Parachute Club) was the activist. Her reminiscence was about the marches and fights. Her songs such as Rise Up and Boys' Club, addressed inequality and rights. The poly-rhythmic latin-flavoured arrangements were upbeat and held up well, sounding modern and not dated. Carole Pope was the challenging lesbian, bringing a voice to non-hetero sexuality. Not surprisingly, her call-outs were for all the bygone bars and clubs. Her music was a big hit-and-miss: some was of their time and has lost the edge. I oved the comedic wit of the elder stateswoman that she brought to new song Lesbians of the Forest, with a cameo by Peaches, in which she skewered the popular portrayal of lesbianism as just drum circles and tofu dogs.

The sound was loud but impeccably mixed. Along with the light show and a competent stage crew, it was one of the best technically managed concerts I've been to in a while.

Let Me Roll It

Friday night, before heading out for some live music, I dropped by Ebi Sushi at Bloor and Ossington. This sushi joint took over from a long-time Greek social club where old-timers sat around smoking and talked the day away. The interior was spacious with dark wood tables and large paintings of cherry blossoms in bloom. It was a bright, airy space.

I started with the Tako Wasa ($3.99) appetizer. A small dish came out with baby octopus and wasabi, with a sheaf of seaweed squares to wrap your seafood. It was crunchy, a bit slimy, and packed a good punch from the fresh wasabi. For mains, I ordered the Dynamite roll ($8.95) and Spider roll ($9.95). Both maki came with substantial rolls made from good-quality sushi rice: a hint of acidity and looseness. The ingredients: crunchy tempura shrimp and crispy crab were average as befitting the price. Overall, I thought it was good sushi. With the exception of old-school Rikishi, Ebi stands above other area joints: Mazz Sushi, Tokyo Sushi, and Gobo Sushi.

Dance Me Inside

Despite the club name of Tattoo Rock Parlour, Saturday at this NxNE showcase was all about dance-able music. In fact, its big sound system and crazy lighting was perfect for the genre. I had RSVP'd to sponsor Red Bull for a spot on the 1 a.m. secret show. But upon showing up for the 1st act, it gave me entry without paying a cover charge.

The early 9 pm slot had a respectable showing (most were probably staking a spot the head-liner) for Paradise Animals. Many did dance to the band's mix of groovy tunes with some introspective lyrics. Any band with a cowbell (used judiciously) is one to watch. Things slowed down for Laurel, a 19-year-old blonde from England who has been compared as the next Lana Del Rey. Lovelorn lyrics backed by piano, cello, synth, and drums gave a quiet chill vibe to her set. Clad in a white babydoll dress, she seemed astonished at the packed crowd. Things sped back up with Ark Analog, a duo all about synth effects, heavy beats, bass, and Maylee Todd's high voice. Tonight, she added tireless dancing to the mix. It's probably why she's packing that flat six-pack stomach.

Finally, Future Islands came on stage to the roar of the crowd. Ever since their appearance on Letterman, they've been on a roll. It was also mostly due to lead Samuel Herring, who seemed to be some sort of Frank Sinatra punk rocker, alternating because sweet croon and deep growls and screams. Their performance was both better and worse than expected. Herring was true to form: dancing, stalking, emotive. Several times, it looked like he might kick or punch somebody from his antics. That didn't happen, though they were likely sprayed with the sweat pouring down his face and drenching his shirt. Yet the wonderful sound mix for the other bands was abandoned to volume. With Herring's voice and the regretful lyrics lost in the noise, the tunes weren't much better than any middle-of-the-road band.

Id and Ego

NxNE also puts on free shows at Yonge-Dundas Square with well-known acts. Not only is this good on the pocketbook, it allows teens to attend the all-ages events. But they might have been wondering Friday night who was the "Dad band" on stage.

The old geezers were the re-united noise band Swans. Over the next hour, they proceeded to pound out songs of crescendoing repetition, effects. Only the slight changes in drums or bass signaled any evolution of the noise wall they put up. The lead singer yelled, sometimes sing, and often shouted obscenities. He also acted as a conductor, directing the others in shaping the sound. From some of the reactions, and subsequent reviews, many were enamoured with the set. I was bored myself and if I wanted to zone out on cyclic music, I'd listen to the complex and interesting gamelan playing.

If Swan was about "play what you like", then St. Vincent was about "rational mind" with her precise guitar picking. The show was carefully choreographed where she played the role of a robot musician (with her signature wild mane tied down in corn rows), perhaps as a nod to the virtual hologram performers (Hatsune Miku, Tupac, Michael Jackson) that are starting to show up on stage. She either played in unison with her backup, or skittered around the stage as if her legs were on wheels. It gave an oddity to her songs: the emotions within the lyrics in contrast with the "automaton" performing. Like all good sci-fi conventions, the robot broke down during the encore, collapsed into a heap after increasingly wild and out of control gyrations.

Wind Up

A music festival like NxNE could be a time to discover a slew of new bands. But two good bands were playing at The Rivoli on Thursday night. With its impeccable sound, this is one of the best venues in Toronto. So I couldn't pass up the chance to check our their early time slots.

Along with the great sound mix, there was a lighting dude mixing things with strobse, lights, projectors. He did a nice on-the-fly job supporting the musicians. It was perfect for Fevers and their dance-pop music. Though the first song was more introspective, it was followed by energetic numbers like Pray For Sound and Dance Cry Dance. Even a slow burner like the final song (Angélie) got amped up by the end. It was too bad their 8 pm start meant a sparse crowd. But those who were there did shake their booty.

With the short gap between sets and their complicated set-up, Sidney York was 15 minutes late. But they made up for it by eliminating almost all banter or gaps and played one upbeat song followed immediately by another including Weird Like You, Mile High Love and Dick & Jane. They did chatted with the crowd when they covered new songs (ElectroLove). It was also a popular set with the much larger audience. But the pace meant they had less time to highlight their unique instruments like bassoon and french horn.

Hannah Epperson wasn't quite as dancey, though with an accomplice manning the synth drum pads, there was an element of slow electronica to her music. This singer/violinist liked to layer and loop her playing to generate rhythm, melody, and chords. Somewhere on the classical/pop border, it was a music of arpeggios and pizzicato picks, as well as bits of discordant chords or effects. Sometimes loopers can be predictably dull: lay down a track, loop it, lay down another, and so on. Epperson added snippets, brought them back in different contexts, and in general made her songs (Shadowless, Cat's Cradle) flowed dynamically. An excellent set but a rather reticent stage presence.

Mmmm 'Kay

On the last day of the Luminato Festival, I headed down one last time for local singer Stacey Kay. I saw her last summer at Emma-Lee's Case of the Mondays. I was curious to hear her pop songs backed by a full band. Although mostly within the pop realm, she did borrow bits of other styles from reggae (Island Girl) to speed rap (Take A Ride). Her choice of covers also ran the gamut: Beyoncé (XO/Partition) to Ceelo Green (Forget You) to Etta James (At Last). She had a versatile voice from gritty urban to torchy ballads. But what sold her performance was Kay's ease and assurance on stage, no doubt helped by her other gigs including being cast member of a touring version of Godspell. Some of her fellow tour-mates, as well as various family members, were on hand to cheer her on. At the end, she did sell a good amount of her debut EP. It's fun to sing to your trendy peers. And a senior audience won't stand up and dance. But they will buy merchandise.

Easy Does It?

My plans for the last few days all changed when I woke up Thursday morning with a slightly tender back. After a seemingly ordinary morning cardio workout, I came home to a frozen one. It had seized up so much that all movement including sitting, standing, and walking generated sharp jabs of pain. Everything took 10 times slower to do, including the excruciating task of dressing and putting on shoes. Things improved on Friday after an uncomfortable night. But for the next several days, I had to take every task gingerly and with care, lest I provoke flare-ups. This glimpse into an inevitable future of age and infirmity was not promising.

By Saturday evening, I felt sufficiently well to shuffle over to the College Street Festival. This street fest has stuck to the magic formula of food and booze. Sure, there were still street performers and rides for the kiddies, but it was mostly kiosk vendors and local restos hawking their munchies. The latter also took advantage of the closed-off street to vastly expand their patio, taking up not only their sidewalk space but the curbside lane as well. With Italy playing England in the World Cup tonight, every patio was packed with patrons drinking and cheering at the TV screens. Though all nationalities were present, Italian-Canadians were the most prominent. Some of whom, usually the younger ones, apparently took Jersey Shore not as a warning but as a model. Most were happy with the 2-1 final score, except for a few lonely U.K. folks.

Call Me Al

There's no point skipping out of free concerts. So Wednesday night, I went down for my 3rd Luminato event. I was surprised at the sparseness of the crowd for Alejandra Ribera, given that she sold out The Royal a few months back. Perhaps the threat of pouring rain kept everyone home.

This Canadian-Chilean songstress sang in English and Spanish, with a smattering of French thrown in. Her English tunes were pop, with hints of Jazz in the scat and arrangements. Her Spanish numbers had more traditional Latin rhythm but still had her distinctive phrasing. She looked totally committed to her material, often seemingly transported away. At first, she reminded me of Bjork with the rolled consonants in her singing, her gangly arm movements, and a scattershot approach to stage banter. But ultimately she was a cross between the ethereal alto of Sarah McLachlan and the throaty bray of Shakira.

The second act wasn't quite so magnetic. The intro to Keys In The Street sounded good: noted classical pianist Angela Hewitt collaborates with urban dancers. But the execution was poor. The repertoire started with safe choices including Claire De Lune (Debussy). But that was preferable to the bulk of the material which was The Goldberg Variations, a puzzling choice for both a mass audience and urban dance styles. The exact and finicky Bach pieces did not fit with dancers. Only the pop-and-locker with his body isolation and glides seemed in touch with the pieces. The performance seemed disjointed since the dancers only wandered on stage now and then in between long stretches of piano. Added to that risible projections: starts, swirling spirals, and actual cards denoting the current style (freestyle, hustle, etc.) and the whole thing felt like a high school assembly demo. This seemed like it was created by a committee of "squares" looking to engage the "yutes".

Full Moon Rising

Tuesday night, with a full moon coming up over the horizon, I headed to my 2nd Luminato concert. The legendary Cree singer Buffy Sainte Marie was holding court to a capacity crowd. She opened her set with one of her hits Up Where We Belong. Switching between digital keyboard and guitar, her song rang the gamut from country, rock, pop and everything in between. There were plenty of love songs including the evocative Until It's Time For You To Go. But it was on her protest songs like Universal Soldier and Left My Heart At Wounded Knee that she let her fire show by letting loose with Indian whoops and chants. In between, she reminded the audience of all the political fights, past and present, for all or of special concern to indigenous peoples, that needed to be done. She gave pointers to necessary readings including The End Of War (John Horgan) and The Female Brain (Louann Brizandine). It was a lesson in popular enlightenment for the masses. But it wasn't dour lecturing, there was plenty of humour, too. When somebody asked her about her bodiless guitar, probably expecting some obscure artisan, she replied with a wink: "Yahama". And followed it up with a "it's like this so there's never any feedback. Now if only I can find a man like that."

Raise Your Hands

With the Luminato festival and NXNE starting, the season for free concerts has begun. Sunday afternoon, I headed over to David Pecaut square to see The Hidden Cameras, a "collective" of indie players since 2001. A number of the artists including Laura Barrett, Reg Vermue (Gentleman Reg), and Owen Pallett have gone on with solo careers. Most of them have re-united recently for a number of shows. But the ring-leader has always been Joel Gibb, penning what he calls "gay church folk music".

It was an apt moniker as the band numbered at 12 people with back-up singers, a full band, harp, and cello. Numerous songs started with organ-like chords and ended with exhortations, chants, or swelling choruses. It was clear why this outfit is fondly remembered as an indie darling. In an alternate timeline, they might have taken the place of Arcade Fire. Onstage and off, both the older members and fans have brought their young children along. With choreographed moves and catchy arrangements, their music went over well with the little tykes. An intermittent drizzle kept most people seated and covered up but at the end, after Gibb exclaimed "We're working so hard up here", he finally got the crowd to stand up and join in on the fun.

Thunder From Down Under

On Saturday evening, after the free outdoor concert hosted by The Garrison Bar, I headed inside to check out the line-up tonight. To my surprise, the support act had already started their set. The Beaches are named after a well-to-do neighbourhood in the east end. But belying their sleepy origins, the all-girl band played a loud and excitable punk-pop. Constantly in motion and hopping around, they were engaging but couldn't quite get the reserved crowd to join in, except for 1 dude in the front.

From Australia, The Preatures have been building a fanbase and winning awards with their 80s-inspired songs Is This How You Feel and Better Than It Ever Could Be. Live, they had a louder, more rock edge to their music. It was a mixed result: it did light a fire under some of the songs and yet they didn't particular stand out as a "rock" band. Luckily, lead singer Isabella Manfredi was just as magnetic in person as in the videos. Dressed in white jeans and a Pretenders tee, she strutted, danced, and hopped maniacally around the stage. Her signature was to stare intently into the crowd. But accompanied by an ever-present grin, it was more of a playful dare to get into the music. And a good portion of the audience did, dancing and clapping along.

Weezerpalooza

Recently, the Dundas Street Fest has joined the plethora of street festivals in Toronto. They all start big and then shrink after a few years. But this one was still on the upswing. This year, local bar/venue The Garrison wrangled a long line-up of local artists to play its outdoor stage. The "headliner" for Saturday was the all-girl Weezer cover band Sheezer. Since I was heading there from another event, I knew I was going to miss their 8:30 pm set. But they haven't started when I arrived at 8:50. Irritating when you're already there, but thank goodness for late start times when you're rushing.

This set had a couple of firsts for Sheezer. As bassist Laura Barrett pointed out, it was their first outdoor show. So there was almost a festival vibe to it. It was also their first all-ages. And judging from the crowd sing-a-longs, young teenagers knew Weezer lyrics as well as bearded hipsters. One lad was so excited he not only fell down dancing during one number, he pretty much lost his voice by the end. An older Chinese woman, impressed by the "hard-rocking chicks", came on stage to present them with flowers. Finally, it was quite a a large and engaged crowd for a free street show and kept growing through the set. By the end, they were flushed against the stage and dancing enthusiastically.

28 Days Later

On Saturday, I headed up to Richmond Hill for a Muen Yuet dinner, a celebration of a baby's first month. This particular feast also included a naming ceremony. I was leery of the distance but the combination of Toronto subway and York region buses was pleasantly quick (for public transit). Not surprisingly, Emperor Fine Chinese Cuisine sat in a strip mall surrounded by subdivisions.

Because of various dietary and other food concerns, there were actually 3 different menus depending on your table. I sat at a family-friendly one. The downside was no exotic dishes like duck but the upside was speed of service, to cater to cranky tykes. There was a recent article that interviewed the latest-it chefs in Toronto. They all marvelled at the speed of a Chinese restaurant's kitchen. Emperor was no different: dishes for all tables came out fast and continuous.

All were delicious, nicely seasoned, and tasty. A few were really just filler such as the mixed veggies, sauteed beef and spring rolls but were done well. The wonton soup had plump shrimp dumplings and a light broth. I'm always in awe of good fried noodles and rice; must be the authentic high-heat wok set-up which is impossible to replicate at home. The highlight for me was the fried chicken and the lobster. A whole bird was fried with impeccably crispy skin. The blander white flesh popped with a sprinkling of seasoned salt. I'm not usually a fan of lobster Chinese-style but this was a good dish. The sauce was mild and not too clingy allowing the lobster, toothsome and not over-cooked, to shine. There were a lot of food left but as I was heading to another event, I couldn't take any leftovers with me.

All That Glitters

Friday night, I went to the Danforth Music Hall for First Aid Kit. It has been almost two years since these Swedish sisters have played in Toronto. Last time, I thought they were good but there was a lack of fire in a lot of the songs. I was curious to hear music from the upcoming album: Staying Gold.

Their fame must be increasing because it was a packed house tonight. Almost half were already there for opening act Willy Mason. This singer alternated between two guitars throughout his set. Though he couldn't quiet the barflies in the back, most of the crowd was engaged with his mix of country-blues with hints of Gospel music. Songs like Pick Up Truck, Carry On, and Show Me The Way To Go Home had simple but interesting lyrics and arrangements.

Against a huge gold sheet, lit through with sparkling lights, First Aid Kit came out decked in flowy gold dresses. All they lacked were flowers in their hair for the complete hippie look. With a professional light engineer and also a sound tech (who was their Dad), it was a well-synched and evocative set with excellent sound. The reverent crowd loved favourites like Ghost Town (sung unamplified along with the audience), Lion's Roar and especially encore Emmy-Lou. But some new tunes also got enthusiastic reactions including The Waitress Song, Cedar Lane, and Silver Lining. Johanna and Klara only endeared themselves more when they revealed that they had wander through Kensington Market that day, though the latter sheepishly admitted they stopped off in a Swedish café (Fika).

I enjoyed the show but wasn't transported away like some of the people around me, especially the young women. Most songs were mid-tempo though there was some variety in drumming and steel pedal. Their covers of America (Simon and Garfunkel) and One More Cup of Coffee (Bob Dylan) highlighted their own callow lyrics. With Johanna playing the bass line on her Nord synth, it lacked the complexity and personality of a live bass player. This feeling of canned rhythm didn't give enough impetus to the music.

Opa!

Another co-worker was leaving for the bright lights of the downtown financial district. On Friday, we trekked over to Big Fat Greek Buffet for a farewell lunch. On the one hand, a Greek buffet was a nice change from the usual Indian/Chinese ones. On the other hand, this particular location has been a revolving door for eateries of all sorts.

The venue was large, which may account for previous demises. The buffet itself was on the small side, compared to the large ones that dominate the Mississauga/Brampton market. But I was pleasantly surprised by the novelty and variety. There was the usual french fries, pizza, and salad bar. But the interesting items included chicken and pork souvlaki, grilled beef and vegetables, and fried calamari. Venturing further afield, there were meat-balls, stuffed spinach pastries (spanakopita), and a sort of a pasta lasagna called pastitsio. All were calorie-dense but for a buffet, reasonably seasoned and had good flavour. But it wasn't a packed lunch crowd, and I fear for this latest incarnation.

Red Songza

On Sunday, I had two choices in music. The first was a tempting a capella evening where Retrocity and other groups would support celebrity singers Alan Frew, Dan Hill, and Lorraine Segato. But I decided that exposure to new music at the Danforth Music Hall would be better than listening to "classic hits" all the time. Ironically, the new music of UK singer La Roux (Elly Jackson) draws inspiration from 70s and 80s dance and pop.

In photos, with her flaming hair draped over one eye, the 26-year-old presented as androgynous and coquettish. Live on stage, with it gelled up in a semi-pompadour, and wearing bright jacket and pants, she came across more as an icy Tilda Swinton. Though some see David Bowie in her, her falsetto on numbers such as I'm Not Your Toy and In For The Kill reminded me of Prince, especially with that 80s sound. On new songs from her upcoming 2nd album (Uptight Downtown, Sexoteque), she stayed with her lower, natural voice and only used the falsetto for emphasis. Both old and new material had driving dance beats, so it wasn't a surprise that the drummer was placed right up front. The usual metal railing was absent, allowing fans to stand and dance right up by the stage. This allowed for lots of high fives and hand clasps from La Roux. There was only one iffy moment with a drunk dude and his inebriated girlfriend. While the bro was happy with a brief hand-to-hand, the girl held on to Elly Jackson's leg and had to be pried off.

La tête et le coeur

On Saturday night, I attended the 2nd of the series, Live At Massey Hall, where up-and-coming artists get to play at this historic hall. Their fans can purchase tickets for the symbolic, and cheap, price of $18.94. The crowd came early for opener Bry Webb.

A member of The Constantines, he had assembled a folk-country (pedal and steel guitar) backing band for tonight including Anna Ruddick (Ladies of The Canyon) on upright bass. Eschewing the loud raucous style of The Constantines, Webb's music was slower and more languid. Informed by his parenthood and "elder" rock-man status, the songs were contemplative about social injustice and other matters not related to love and romance. He also made several dedications: to his half-brother Will, who as an usher had sneaked him into several Massey Hall concerts; Gordon Lightfoot, for one of those performances; and his wife Katie Ewald. Webb joked that tonight was the CD release show for his 2nd album Free Will. Based on the audience's reaction, it was a hit.

Coeur De Pirate (Beatrice Martin) is a bona fide star in Quebec and France. She also sells out in Toronto so I have been unable to attend her shows. But from reviews, it was perhaps for the best, as her solo turn on the piano is usually diminished in a noisy club setting. Tonight, with a full band, the impeccable sound system, and a quiet crowd, it should be quite special. I was unmoved by the first few songs, which had a generic pop vibe. Only after she took to the piano and the band toned down the volume did Martin shone. The softer arrangements highlighted her light voice and the particularly French knack for poetical turns (Place de la Républic, Saint-Laurent). She also did a few songs in English: two new tunes and her theme for the video game Child of Light. Her set ended with the catchy done-me-wrong number Adieu. During her encore, the moment and the cheers finally overcame her. Martin wiped away tears as she thanked the crowd for embracing "this French-Canadian" who five years ago "played at the Dakota Tavern". Nothing left to do but to end the night in a sing-a-long to Comme Des Enfants with its hooky refrain ("Et il m'aime encore, et moi je t'aime un peu plus fort").

California Dreaming

Before the ubiquity of online restaurant reviews and food blogs, it was a bit of a thrill to find in an out-of-the-way place. So it was that I first discovered California Sandwiches years ago as I wandered through the modest homes in Little Italy south of College St. I made my way back there on Saturday to see how it was doing. Tucked away on a side street, this Italian sandwich shop was still just as busy. Times have changed as a row of gleaming modern townhouses, all blue-black bricks and dark wood trims, now faced one side of the location.

The customers were still more or less as before, with some "hipper" additions. But they were mostly beefy guys arriving in trucks doing a run of 5-6 sandwiches. I ordered a hot veal for lunch ($8.75). It was just as messy as ever; not only is the sandwich wrapped twice over, but you get a pile of 7-10 paper napkins. Simple in execution too: a pile of breaded and fried meat, slathered with sauce, stuffed inside soft buns. Two heads-up: one, don't order hot unless you really like spicy; two, let it cool for a bit to bring out more flavour. In the end, it was a good and serviceable meal. Nostalgia is great but the truth is that new joints, like Red Sauce on Clinton, offer the same food but with more finesse and execution.

The Good Life

Perhaps in anticipation of tonight's concert, I woke up Friday morning from a dream where I encountered friends from 20 years ago. It left me bemused the entire day.

At Lee's Palace, all-female Weezer cover band Sheezer was putting on a special show. They do have the odd concert during the year, but Sheezer is primarily known for their annual Halloween appearance. But this May was the 20th anniversary of Weezer's first release (The Blue Album). Given that Sheezer only plays Blue and Pinkerton, they obviously had to organize a special Spring Fling this month.

First up was Wax Atlantic, who played a psychedelic folk-pop best exemplified when the 4-part male harmony came to the forefront. The lead singer's voice with its plaintive upper register was ideal for their dreamy, slightly stoned, arrangements. Oddly, So Young made me think of feminist Weezer. On songs like Bad Kids, they too chronicled the same sort of slacker disengagement. But singer Paterson Hodgson also tackled topics like sexism (with a dismissive "boys and their guitars") and date rape ("it don't matter if they don't make a fuss").

Instead of elaborate costumes like their Halloween gig, the women of Sheezer came out tonight dressed either all in black or wore bold print sheath dresses. It only took a minor encouragement from Laura Barrett for the packed crowd to start a friendly mosh pit. They came for the classics and they got every song from Blue and most of Pinkerton (except for Across The Sea, Pink Triangle, and Butterfly). These weak exceptions were replaced with better B-sides (Susanne) and newer material (Hash Pipe), even if they were in Laura's words: "outside of Sheezer's mandate". But only a few Weezer purists refused to sing or dance for these tunes. Everyone found several favourites to sing, dance, and even engage in some (worryingly accurate) air-guitar.

Sheezer was in excellent form tonight. Dana Snell and Laura Barrett were, as usual, dynamic on drums and bass. Alysha Haugen, who could be a bit rushed on a few solos at previous gigs, was effortless and light. Robin Hatch, in addition to her keyboard/harmonica, has taken over quite admirably the guitar duties of departed member Megali Meagher. It was in fact Robin's birthday and she was treated to both a "Happy Birthday" serenade and a dedication from Dana on The World Has Turned And Left Me Here. During the encore, they played their finest rendition of Only In Dreams to date. By the time the harmonized guitar riffs were joined by Dana's furious drums and cymbals, arms were raised, fists were pumped, and heads were banged.