Cat and Cow

While on holiday in Ottawa, I have been visiting Pure Yoga studio to try and minimize the Yuletide pounds. It's larger and better furnished than almost any studio in Toronto, probably because an equivalent space in Hogtown would cripple the owner in rent. On Friday, I decided to reward myself with lunch after a noon-hour class.

With a few exceptions, Ottawa hasn't done a great job of keeping its old buildings and neighbourhoods, Parliament Hill notwithstanding. So even trendy shops (and ethnic restaurants) have trouble finding spaces to gentrify. But there was room for a handful in the block between Catherine and Gladstone on Bank St.

Talay Thai was tastefully furnished with dark, wooden tables and Asian décor. Looking over the lunch menu, I chose the chicken panang ($9.95). The red curry was nicely presented and the flavour play was subtle but distinctive. This was a good, light touch on a dish that is usually lazily done nowadays.

Then I walked up the block to Moo Shoo Ice Cream. Newspaper articles about evening line-ups reminded me of several such dessert places in Toronto. In the middle of winter, there were no such crowd but there were a few customers in the tiny spot. I got 2 scoops ($5): strawberry and yuzu. The former's flavour was almost non-existent but the latter was strong and bold. But overall, they were a bit too crumbly and gritty for me (with bits of frozen ice). I prefer my ice cream smooth and rich. Since I did not pick the vegan options, I want more dairy in my treats.

Hold Me Now

Thursday night, I was at The Great Hall for the sophomore album of local band Diana, who got some online buzz 3 years ago with dance-pop songs like Born Again. The opener for tonight was Montréal singer Mozart's Sister. She was almost the opposite of the chill cool of the headliner; her dance music was made to get your butt to move. Unfortunately, the early stand-offish Toronto crowd didn't join her until near the end of her set. Though she had a big voice that was unleashed from time to time, Caila Thompson-Hannant preferred to coat it in various effects. She was also fond of odd beats and rhythms. It made for dance-able and interesting music.

It took 3 years for Diana to release their follow-up album Familiar Touch. Since the band (Carmen Elle, Joseph Shabason, Kieran Adams) was formed as a one-off lark, their success caught them by surprised. As a consequence, they felt their 1st album was rushed. The new release was more carefully planned, including bringing in other musicians. As such, their set tonight included a full band including back-up vocals (Gary Beales, Ivy Mairi), bass, rhythm guitar/synth (Thom Gill), percussions, and the 3 core Diana members.

It made for an impeccable set where they all shined. Freed from having to trigger samples and backing tracks, Adams played drums alternating between precise hits on the slower numbers and furious fills for the upbeat ones. Carmen Elle traded beautiful harmonies with the singers as well as plucky guitar licks with Gill. The adoring crowd ate up the updated 80s vibe, especially during Shabason's sax solos. Before the encore, Carmen Elle closed off their set with a joke: "Well, see you all in another 3 years." Well, I'm certain no one in that audience wanted that.

Snark The Herald Angel Zinged

On Saturday, I went to see A Soulful Messiah by dance company Ballet Creole. Similar to various Handel's Messiah shows and The Nutcracker by the National Ballet, this "Christmas tradition" (at least according to the ad-copy) has occurred every year for more than a decade now. Unfortunately, it felt a slap-dash affair. And with the Fleck Dance Theatre being half-empty, I don't think it's particularly beloved either.

First, the music for this recital is woefully dated. When Handel's Messiah: A Soulful Composition came out in the 90s, this African-American composition was rightfully lauded. But almost 25 years later, the production value hasn't aged well. Second, trying to match the dance style to the each song removed any coherent theme and vision as the music spanned multiple genre from gospel to blues. It was like watching a year's end student's showcase: some didn't have time to fully their ideas, others didn't have enough. Third, shoe-horning in a tap dancer was misguided and awkward.

In fact, it was a shame that all the dancers brought so much enthusiasm and skill to such a mediocre evening. The program noted that the original premiere (as part of a larger show) only used 6 songs from the album. It has since grown to include almost all the music. The tap-dancer made his own debut 6 years ago. This syncretism doesn't work.

Metaverse

At Burdock on Friday, 3 bands played around with internal rhymes, stretching and compressing melodies, and other tweaks to the basic pop structure. I thought that solo opener Julie Arsenault did the best job. Her rhymes were subtle and so were her lyrics. You're enjoying her melody and only a few seconds later do you realized she had just casually dropped a line full of pain and unresolved issues. Coszmos Quartette's songs were the most hippy-dippy "we're made of stardust" verses I've heard in awhile. I didn't mind their attempts to play around with melodic changes. But their lyrics alternated between simplistic rhyming and awkward words whose intonation didn't quite fit the meter.

When members of Montréal band Corinna Rose pulled out both a harp and an auto-harp, I wondered if we were going to hear some folkie/pop hybrid of Emilie & Ogden and Basia Bulat. And an audience request for an old song during the encore hinted that the older music of Rose did have those feelings. But the songs of her set, from her upcoming album, were mostly composed of disquieting and eerie layers. Rose's banjo picking translated to complex guitar arperggiation. She seemed to have reduced her lyrics to simple, unadorned phrases. These were only half as successful in holding my attention as her arrangements.

Famous or Infamous

There's hints that Basia Bulat can play big venues. She's always sold out her shows in Toronto, although they were for smaller spots like The Mod Club or Polish Combatants Hall. Her debut at Massey Hall didn't quite fill the large venue, even with the specially reduced ticket price of $18.93. But with a second pop album out this year, bookers was likely betting that she could move to the 1500-capacity Danforth Music Hall.

A sold-out crowd was raucous for the home-town singer, who is currently residing in Montréal. For long-time fans, there was perhaps some disappointment because Bulat only played 2 songs from her older, folkier albums. She has fully embraced the pop sound from Tall Tall Shadows and Good Advice. I'd never thought I'd see raise-the-roof arms at a Bulat show. She is also developing a great pop persona amid a full band, sparkly outfit, and professional lighting. Luckily, it wasn't the awkward dancing of the past few shows. Someone commented that she sounded better live. It's true. The muddy mix of Good Advice doesn't do justice to the range and strength of her voice, her playing chops from piano to guitar to churango, and her charming stage presence.

Bonjay opened the night with a booty-shaking mix of grimey dance music and modern reggae. Though some people gave in to her exhortation to "move!", most didn't seem to know what to make of this force on stage even if they were blown away by her powerhouse vocals.

Ain't Nuthing But A G Thang

On a rainy Wednesday night, I fell asleep after dinner. I woke up groggy and realized I had already missed sets by Fiver and Jesi Jordan at newish venue Baby G. But I willed myself into a quick change to get there for the album release of my favourite indie sister group, Tasseomancy. They haven't made much noise in Toronto lately. I thought it was because one of them had moved to Montreal. It turns out it was further than that: sunny Los Angeles.

I was also taken aback by the size of the crowd. Who were all these people and where were they at previous shows? Looking at their baby (heh) faces, they were hipsters checking out a new venue in a gentrifying neighbourhood. By hipsters, I simply mean attractive, young folks who can stay out late on a week-night; the era of mustaches, beards, and manic pixie clothes has mostly moved on in Toronto. It doesn't really matter because tonight, Tasseomancy did strictly all new material from Do Easy. They still write literary, often elliptical verses, but the new sound has less of that folky, Old World (Eastern European) feel.

Cairo On

On Saturday, I went for an early (8:30 am) brunch at Egyptian spot Maha's. Partly because I'm an early riser, but mostly this busy diner has a reputation for long lines. In fact, by 9, the waiting list had stretched to 30 minutes.

The tiny space can seat 23, but only because tables were squeezed into every nook. You accepted the crowding, since it feels like being in the warm sun-room of a well-traveled and charming friend. This familial atmosphere wasn't far from reality as the main workers were the son, daughter, and matriarch of the Maha clan.

I opted for the Shakshuka ($12) and a side order of Foole ($6). The traditional Shakshuka is a concoction of poached eggs and tomatoes, Baha's version was the African style of scrambled eggs with sautéed tomatoes. In any case, it was soft, fragrant and made tasty mouthful with the pita-like balady bread. Possibly the best egg dish in the city. The foole, a soup made from fava beans, tomatoes, and onions, was equally filling and had wonderful subtle flavour. I came the following week-end for the date grilled cheese ($12) which was even better. This date-stuffed sandwich was closer to a sweet French toast than your typical grilled cheese. Every bite was a revelation.

Maha's deserve its loyal, and patient, customers. One caveat, on my second visit, I was treated to a snobby barista scenario. I had never encountered anything like it and had thought that "scolding coffee artiste" only existed in hipster parodies like Portlandia. So maybe stick to tea if your patience for arrogant servers is low.

Newton's Laws

On Friday, I was at the Fleck Dance Theatre to see dance troupe Pro Arte Danza. This year, I came away with mixed feelings as these offerings weren't as compelling as their interpretations of Beethoven's 9th. The first was a remount of Diversion. In dim illumination and fog, dancers appeared from the back, bodies struggling against each other. They would often be dragged back into the darkness. This push/pull where partners switched between cooperation and conflict played out throughout the piece in various groupings and even solos.

In contrast, Fearful Symmetries, named after the music by John Adams, was all frenetic movement. The main image were the dancers running in place, a Buster Keaton-esque modern rat race for millenials. Interestingly, there was incorporation of hip-hop movement; this group has previously hewed closer to the classical ballet side of contemporary dance. I found the music enervating and stressful, to the point where I considered leaving the theatre. So this was not my favourite piece from this company.

Morgan Le Meh

On Friday, my first choice for lunch had a 45 min wait, so I wandered around the Danforth and Greenwood area and settled on Morgans. This gastropub wasn't busy so the service was brisk. I opted for their classic burger ($10.99) with extra sautée onions ($1.50). The dish came with fries or salad. The ingredients was fresh and nicely presented. The burger was good, thick and juicy, certainly better than my last burger. The onions didn't add much. This was essentially spiffed up bar food. I'd probably consider this spot if I was in the area but it's not a destination place.

Help Me Rhonda

It was a sparse early crowd at Lee's Palace for Montreal band Foreign Diplomats. That was too bad because their modern take on 70s disco/glam rock had some catchy guitar and beats a bigger, more dance-friendly audience might have enjoyed. Throughout their set, I was feeling a bit Miike Snow.

More people heard the second band Curses though they weren't quite as compelling. To be fair, they were a young pop-punk band with a small repertoire of tunes. So their exhortations and hype to the crowd came off as either oblivious or obnoxious, depending on your temperament.

It was a respectable but not sold-out crowd for the album release of The Balconies. So I don't know if it paid off financially for them to put together a special 9-member band for tonight, but their fans had a great time. The Balconies had gone silent for a while after their second album. Their recent show at Yonge-Dundas show-casing music off the new album Rhonda didn't impress me. Tonight they also concentrated almost exclusively on the new music but it worked better this time round.

 There were several reasons: fans who already knew the lyrics to the new songs; a bigger, more robust sound system; and backup singers, synth, and a horn section added interesting layer and texture to their continuing move to a mainstream sound. Though The Balconies have sanded off their off-kilter indie edge, they can still write catchy hooks and refrains on numbers like Money, Money. Jacquie Neville was still a magnetic front-woman with her big voice and guitar chops. The Balconies ended their set with Guilty Pleasures, a worthy sing-along replacement for Do It In The Dark, with its invitation of "I don't want to keep you up all night but I've been drinking".

Sins of the Father

This year at Factory Theatre, they have boldly ventured away from the lily-white Toronto theatre scene with all plays written and mostly acted by persons of color. Some pearl clutching was involved: "Sure that's great but will they be good?" Despite the sea-lioning, the season still needed strong contenders, unfair though expectations may be. Acquiesce by David Yee made an excellent start.

His biracial character Sin seemed to own a pair of magical luggage (calling J.K. Rowling to the courtesy phone). They contained a sink for cleaning up, Buddhist incense for not-so-filial sons, and other odds and ends. He's in Hong Kong to see his cousin Kai (Richard Lee), and to wrap up, quite unwillingly, funeral arrangements for his dead, and estranged, father (John Ng).

As the play progressed, and what looked at first to be flashbacks and interstitials, such as those with his girlfriend Nine (Rosie Simon) become increasingly surreal: a talking Paddington bear, vanishing letters; with scenes and characters intruding and overlapping, there's a feeling that we are actually witnessing a man breaking down and experiencing hallucinations. Perhaps one of the characters, most likely Sin, is stuck in Bardo (the Buddhist's "purgatory").

Though Nine play a crucial role, it's a play mostly about men. But maybe that's the point: toxic masculinity has no winners, and a world without women voices can only have suffering.

Repent

Going to Hey Meatball! for Sunday brunch was a regular occurrence for me. But I noticed that compared to other spots in Little Italy, this diner didn't get much foot traffic. So I wasn't surprised when they finally closed up shop. This past Sunday, I dropped by to check out the new contender: Burgatory. Their burgers were named after the seven deadly sins. I opted for the spicy Wrath burger ($9.99) and added a combo drink and some Himalayan sea salt fries ($3.99).

The meat patty was thick and substantial with good beef. But I thought the blend was a tad on the dry side and could use more seasoning. In fact, without the good condiments and sauce, it would have been on the meh side of the equation. I don't know why restaurants use brioche buns. Maybe cause it looks and sounds "classy". The fries were better than most of these burger joints but not quite at McDonald's level.

This new spot doesn't seem to get much foot traffic either. I feel they're positioned in an awkward spot: too pricey to be a regular take-out option, not upscale enough to be a destination spot. It'll be interesting to see if they can make a go of it.

It's The Real Thing

Toronto doesn't have its own baked pastry but there are a few Montreal-style bagel shops in the city. Then I heard about "Turkish bagel" (simit) and wow, there's a café at King and Niagara offering this interesting treat called Simit and Chai.

Early Sunday afternoon, I dropped by. It was a bright place, in the hipster mold, with a trendy clientele. The café offered numerous Middle Eastern bite-site fares especially sweet dessert (other than baklava). I got the traditional offering of simit, pastirma, asiago cheese, and tomato ($11.50). What came out was a large, hollowing bagel liberally coated with sesame seed. It was a wonderful combination of flaviour between the cheese, tomato, and slight saltiness from the cured beef. The simit itself was toothsome and fragrant. I quite enjoyed this "street eat" though there was a bit of sticker shock since the simit itself was only $2/each if you bought a dozen.

Dance Dance Evolution

3 bands played at Massey Hall Friday night, and each in their own way didn't quite fit with the vibe of this venerable hall. First up was siblings Too Attached. Their low-key synth-pop couldn't quite get the early crowd to respond. There were some cheers for singer's Vivek Shraya coming out as transgender. Next up was noisy indie band Torres. The problem is that I've found that Massey Hall's acoustics (though famed) sound muddy when there are lots of guitar and effects. In this case, Mackenzie Scott's introspective lyrics got buried in the mix.

Tegan and Sara's set was generally fun and infectious in the dance-pop vein. But most people remained seated as per the usual Massey Hall crowd. The new songs off their latest album were undoubtedly pop, but the sisters had also converted most of their back catalogue to be more dance and synth. It was a bit hit-and-miss, some worked while others sounded dull and inane. Their older fans cheered loudly when the sisters brought out a guitar for a 3-song acoustic break. The newer numbers did allow them to finally get the butts off the seats with Closer, Boyfriend, and Stop Desire.

Pokey Man

I was wandering around Friday night before a concert looking for a place to eat. But all the restaurants along Dundas St. between University and Bay had long line-up. I suddenly remembered that there was a recent restaurant craze for the Hawaiian's dish of poke. And there was one just off the strip on Elizabeth St.

As it was hidden near the end of the small street, Poke Guys had mostly a crowd of students. I ordered a Sooo Fresh Bowl ($10.50). It certainly looked appetizing with its pile of seaweed salad, grape tomatoes, watermelon radish, pineapple, corn, and raw ahi tuna cubes. In fact, it was quite tasty. The rice had been prepared in the sushi-style: slightly sticky and with a hint of vinegar. Along with the seaweed, sesame seeds, and fish, it was like a deconstructed maki. But the addition of the other ingredients refreshed your palate. This poke idea is a great culinary tradition.

Dirty Women

Friday night, I was at the first of two sold-out shows by cover band Vag Halen. This all-female, queer-positive band usually does "cock rock" to reclaim the space for women. But these shows will be tributes to the women artists in rock.

A very young punk band called Hex opened the show. The female power trio, graduates of the Girls Rock Camp program, liked to mix things up with tempo and volume changes. Their original material was a bit rough compared to the classics they covered: Le Tigre's Deceptacon and Pattie Smith's Gloria. But the covers showed they had some chops.

Vag Halen came out groovy with White Rabbit but proceeded to destroy the crowd with numbers like Edge of 17, Happy House, New Radio, and Rock Star. The evening ended with a raging call for women empowerment with Yoko Ono's Women Power. Though it was loud and raucous for the bulk of their set, bassist Katie Richie entranced the crowd with the quiet Song for the Siren. But most of the night belonged to singer Vanessa Dunn. She put all male rockers to shame with her high-energy presence, all the while being 8-months pregnant, and letting it all hang out with a metal t-shirt rolled up above her swollen belly, and rocking black undies and pantyhose.

Sweet Harmonies

I was at The Dakota Thursday night for dual headliners Sweet Alibi and Jadea Kelly. Since Toronto was Kelly's home turf, though she moved to Texas about a year ago, Sweet Alibi took the stage first tonight. This trio from Winnipeg and their band had a country twang. But depending on who was on lead vocals, the style of music may be more pop, blues, or country. Their 3-part harmony was the one constant throughout.

Jadea Kelly also had a bit of country in all her songs. But she leaned more toward slow-burning heart-breakers. Let's hope some of those exes were merely imaginary otherwise she doesn't seem to have had much luck romantically. With so many musician friends in the crowd for both bands, a slew of guests came on stage. Sweet Alibi and Jadea Kelly joined each other during their respective sets; Kelly recruited Sarah Burton (who has also left the Toronto music scene for the U.S.) and Lydia Persaud (The O'Pears) to sing back-up; and a parade of singers made appearances including Rose McClellan, Kelly Prescott, Sarah Martin, and Peter Katz.

Full Moon

After seeing Raven Shields at the Mod Club, I headed down the street to the Monarch Tavern to see L Con's album release show. It was appropriate that a full moon hung overhead as Moon Milk is all about Lisa Conway's spacey sounds and ideas take on Italy Calvino's Cosmicomics. Supporting her was James Irwin, who brought a Bruce Springsteen's vibe to his set and Isla Craig, who combined sexy slow jams and folkie introspection. A full band support for Conway tonight made her cosmic musings come alive. Especially welcome was a second guitarist and a saxophonist to handle the solos and odd background effects.

Olio

It was a strange collection of bands at the Mod Club on Saturday. I'm guessing this had to do with the booker. Featurette was a 2-person crew doing 4-on-the-floor dance music. They tried to change things up with eclectic drum patterns and odd lyrics. Unfortunately, the backing tracks were too loud resulting in a set that wasn't subtle. Raven Shields, slender in a wide-collar suit, brought some intriguing androgyny to her mix of country/Americana set. But it was her bluesy Badlands that packed the most punch. Though headliner Paper Lions is known for their high-energy show, I couldn't stay.

South of the Border

I was in Ottawa for the week and decided to get some Mexican at a taqueria called Kukulkan. The interior interesting with figures painted into the tables, decorations on the walls, and even a tiled roof over the kitchen area.

I opted for the guacamole appetizer ($10.50), cactus salad ($11), and two tacos ($4/each). Each dish had both good and bad points. The guac was fresh and tasty but the accompanying corn chips were too hard. The salad was a little too acidic. The tacos and its ingredients were fresh and quite nice. But the portion was on the small side, surprising given how large the other two plates were. Given the area, pricy gourmet tacos may be a hard sell.

Main Dance

Monday night, I was at the Danforth Music Hall to see all-female rock band Warpaint from NY. Knowing that their latest had more pop feel, I positioned myself on the side where I can get more floor space to dance. I enjoyed this performance more than the last time they were in this venue. The shorter, dancier new numbers were a welcome addition to their set. These provided a welcome change of mood that allowed me to enjoy their old numbers better as they tend to run 7-8 minutes of zoned out effects.

Sunday Brunch

I found myself at The Horseshoe on a rare Sunday night show. I missed opener Rivergazer but was in time to catch Japanese Breakfast. Michelle Zauner immediately launched into their big hit Everybody Wants To Love You. None of her other songs were quite as poppy but her fans hung on her words. Headliner Porches played synth pop that carried a 80s sad-sack pop feel. They got my feet moving a bit but they weren't quite engaging enough for me to stay with the work week coming.

Blades of Steel Strings

Over the last 2 weeks, The World Cup of Hockey Tournament has been taking place in Toronto. As part of that, the organizers have set up a Fan Zone near The Distillery District. On Saturday, I headed there to check out the free entertainment.

I arrived just as illusionist Darcy Oake was starting his act. There were locked box body swaps, mind reading tricks, rope manipulation, and ending with a lock-pick escape from a water-filled box encasing his head. Afterwards, super-group cover band Dwayne Gretzky did a set of self-proclaimed "dad rock". Though they have been selling The Phoenix and The Danforth, there was but a handful of people, and mostly kids, for their set. The large crowd for Oake had disappeared between shows.

But DG soldiered on and went through a 75-min set low on banter but jam-packed with music, eventually pulling in fairly large audience. With members taken from various bands, they often need to recruit other musicians depending on schedule. But I haven't been to a Gretzky show with so many core members missing: most conspicuously pianist Robin Hatch (Our Lady Peace). Singer Ivy Mairi didn't try to do Hatch's more rock-and-roll covers like You Oughta Know or Barracuda but her sweet voice was perfect for older classics like Be My Baby and Preacher Man.

Learn How To Fly

Friday night, I went down to Yonge-Dundas Square for the Walk of Fame Festival. Throughout the week, various venues in Toronto had concerts (both paid and free) celebrating established artists as well as promsing newcomers. By what criteria? Beats me. There were also art exhibits and other events.

I made it in time to see one of my favourite band: The Balconies. They've been keeping a low profile since their last release a few years back. Tonight, they showcased all new material off their upcoming album: Rhonda. To be honest, I'm on the fence about this new direction. They've always straddled the line between radio-friendly rock and spiky indie, but sparked by wild-eyed antics of lead singer Jacquie Neville, there was energy in their jangly chords and driving rhythm. The new songs have sanded off that interesting edge.

A bit let-down, I didn't feel like staying around but decided to listen to one or two songs from the head-liner Zeus. What a pleasant surprise. Full of 60s-esque harmony and chords combined with indie wit and humour, both their old and new stuff were dance-able and fun.

End of BOFF

This week-end was the 6th and final year for the Bloor-Ossington Folk Festival due to some funding falling through. Since Saturday was blustery downpour for most of the day, I only ventured out in the evening to catch the last 2 acts of the 1st day: Hooded Fang and Julie Doiron and the Wrong Guys.

First, a clarification on the "folk festival" bit. The organizers used "folk" to mean "people", so bands were usually in the indie or even garage mold, not necessarily soothing ukuleles and acoustic guitars. So a few curious visitors who dropped in with a program guide were quickly driven away by the cacophony: a combination of the bad sound mix and the loud music.

Watching Hooded Fang complete transformation from plinking twee-pop ear-worms to propulsive lo-fi garage is like meeting a nephew who has graduated to piercings and tattoos from Elmos and teddy bears. The new stuff's good, but boy was it loud and repetitive. As for the thrashing Wrong Guys, fronted by the dulcet voice of Doiron, it was a glimpse into an alternate universe where Feist, having blown out her vocals and needing to change her singing style, still decided to keep playing punk rock instead of switching to pop. They announced that they would be heading to the Prairies to finally record their first album.

The Story of O

Thursday night, I was at the Music Gallery for two bands: Ozere and The O'Pears. Both acts were natural fit for the intimate acoustic of this working church. Ozere opened the evening with some "classical folk". Mandolin, cello, violins, and voice evoked Celtic folk, middle eastern scales, and classical harmonies. They also did a few more pop numbers include a cover of Cat Stevens' Doris.

For their debut release show, The O'Pears, normally a trio of singers, has recruited a full backing band. They ran through most of songs from Like Those Nights including Long Winter, Suffering Fool, and Hard Bargain. They also did some "old material", which for these young women was all the way back in 2012. The music ranged from folk, to blues, to even hints of gospel. What tied it all together was their strong and intricate harmony. In fact, I thought their strongest numbers was just them. This was mostly because the mid-tempo pop-ish arrangements for the band were a bit middle-of-the-road and dull.

Young, photogenic, and talented, The O'Pears would probably be more well-known already if they had pop leanings. But if First Aid Kit and Lennon and Maisy can build successful careers, these women should have a good shot.

Let's Go To The Ex

It's been years since I've been to the National Exhibition for the full CNE experience, although I have gone to see live shows at the Bandshell. But I was asked by a squeamish friend to be the partner for her daughter, who was ready to graduate to the big rides at the adult Midway. So we made our way down on Labour Day Monday. Turns out the young lady was game, and certainly braver than myself at her age, even going on several upside-down rides.

Since I did the Midway, I decided I might as well go whole-hog and visit the food building as well. There have been "stunt dishes" over the last several years. I didn't read about any such offerings this year, but there was some buzz for Kanpai's ramen burger.

Apparently there has been long line-ups, but I didn't have a long wait today for the burger ($10.69) and some "durty fries" ($6.19). The fries was the better dish. Well, not the fries themselves as they were typical: gold outside, mushy inside. (Nobody seems to know how to cook fries but McDonald's). But the Japanese-inspired toppings including teriyaki butter were interesting. As for the burger, the patty was actually quite thick and juicy. The mushy ramen buns, however, didn't really add to the experience.

Stuffed

It's likely all cuisine has some sort of meat in a bun dish. So on Tuesday, when I dropped by a new diner in Little Italy called B'saha offering Moroccan street food, I got their merguez option ($8.95) and a side of fries ($3.50). I had previously eaten this middle-eastern spiced sausage was at now-defunct Le Casbah.

The fries was your run-of-the-mill diner fries: golden and looks good but a bit too mushy on the inside. The sub, however, was delicious. Four small sausages stuffed inside soft baguette-style buns. Along with a mildly spicy sauce, it was a good if slightly messy meal.

I returned a few weeks later to try their mix grill ($12.95). The tagines also sound good except, odd for a "street eats" place, need to be ordered a day ahead.

B & B

While in Ottawa for the week-end, I stopped by Benny's Bistro for brunch. This spot is located just off the main tourist area, as well as tucked into the back of the bakery: French Baker. As such, it is more of a "local gem". Is it worth a visit? There's a short brunch menu, with most dishes ranging between $15-20. The portions are a bit small given the price, but comprising of quality ingredients. Given the chi-chi French vibe of the food: crepe, french toast, tuna confit, the décor is surprisingly utilitarian and frumpy. If you add dessert, you're approaching $70 for two which is pricey for brunch.

Fab Four

Because of the 50th anniversary of the last Beatles concert in Toronto, there has been several events around town over the last month. On Friday, I went to Indie Friday at Yonge Dundas to listen to The Massey Hall Band, a collection of sax/horn players with unique arrangements to pop songs. I was quite impressed with their collaboration with Bry Webb.

However, I have seen them here and there since then and it's been a diminishing return. Tonight was part of that downward trend. This is their sound: a drawn-out intro into the song, usually unrecognizable to the average listener; a first pass through the tune, played straight; then one or more solos; a segue into a loud, chaotic breakdown where every instrument improvises; then outro. There's no doubt they are accomplished musicians. But it's curious that though there are several arrangers (all members of the band), they all end up sounding the same.

Mixie Chicks

Tuesday night I headed to The Danforth Music Hall for what promised to be a night of sublime lyrics and harmonies. Opener was Ciaran Lavery, an Irish singer who charmed the audience with his lilting banter about being a Chippendale dancer in disguise. His white man screaming style got a bit old, but he did have a few good songs.

Case/Lang/Veirs stand for 3 powerful singers: Neko Case, kd lang, and Laura Veirs. They came together for a one-time collaboration this year. As such, they sang almost every song from their album, taking turns doing lead vocals or beautiful harmonies. Each brought different sensibilities to the show: lang with her velvet croon, Veirs a wistful folkiness, and Case brought the indie edge. They also included songs from their own repertoire: each bringing a cheer from their own fans. The biggest applause were for from lang's Constant Craving and cover of Neil Young's Helpless. But the revelation was lang rocking out to harder songs by Veirs or Case. I guess her own catalogue doesn't include too many head-banging numbers. Tonight was sublime music from start to finish.

Caplan and the Four Horns

Indie Friday down at Yonge-Dundas Square had mountain man Ben Caplan entertaining the crowd. I was too late to see Taryn Kawaja's solo set. She adds so much to Caplan's set with her harmony, melodica, and piano that I wanted to hear her own music.

Caplan had his touring band, as well as a horn section borrowed from the in-house Roy Thompson Hall band. So they had great success with the audience playing his klezmer pop. It was a fun night though not one of his top show. The anemic sound system (for the huge outdoor space) didn't get across his over-the-top craziness and singing. Speaking of which, Caplan's usual fiddler was absent: his high-energy solos were sorely missed.

L Is For The Way You Look At Me

Most songs are love songs (or lust songs), especially in pop. That's why "protest" numbers and other non-romantic tunes seem unusual. Given this ubiquity, it's saying something to state that Luke Kuplowsky write love songs.

At the Burdock on Tuesday for the release of Luka's 2nd album, with a full band including two lovely backup singers, his prowess was on full display. The songs evoked 50s music, partly from the arrangement, but mostly because of an earnestness and vulnerability that modern male singers won't do. Female divas like Adele might, but though Kuplowsky has a good voice, it's not capable of the usual vocal gymnastics employed in these ballads. So we're left with sharply observant yet hopeful lyrics about love sung softly. But Luka also avoided the equally dreary "sensitive guy" persona with some laugh-out-loud humour and music that often and surprisingly swelled into "rock-out" territory.

Turning Japanese

If the audience for last week's Northern Pikes show was nearing retirement, this week's sold-out crowd at the Horseshoe on Friday leaned toward the just finished high school end. There were also many more women than most indie shows. All due to the fact that all 3 acts tonight are fronted by young women of colour. Representation matters.

The evening started with a solo set by Jay Som. It was a good set, but I didn't find it wholly compelling. The positives: Melina Duerte's deftness on the guitar and her lyrical venture outside the usual love song to sing about issues like young people cobbling together multiple jobs to live. Her main weakness, which I've noticed in several new artists recently, was bland melodies. Japanese Breakfast is a new project for singer/guitarist Michelle Zauner (Little Big League). Her songs were more typical of indie pop, but she was experienced on stage, handled her guitar well, and coaxed high energy from the trio.

Being only a two-piece on tour, Mitski's music was stripped down from her recordings, often played as single-finger barred chords. But with an accomplished drummer, she achieved a Nirvana meets White Stripe aesthetic that kept the crowd amped. The simpler set-up also revealed her forte, Mitski write killer songs. After a towering and raucous "final" number, she insisted that she'll finish the night with two songs instead of going off backstage and waiting for the requisite encore call. She gave perhaps the reason I've heard for not doing these routine callbacks: "Nobody likes to keep going after they've come". Damn, girl.

Dad Rock

On Thursday, I succumbed to nostalgia and went to see long-time band The Northern Pikes. The crowd, the majority of which were in the thinning hair and middle-age spread phase of life, were already there in large numbers for opener Before The Flood.

Appropriately enough, this trio played radio-friendly dad rock with tinges of nostalgia as they sing about "the life I could have had" and "time chasing us". They ended their set with a cover of another long-time Canadian band, Spirit of the West's Political.

The Northern Pikes came up through the 80s and now they're down to a trio. Although like their fans it was grey hair and wrinkles, touring must be good because they looked fit. Only two songs in and they already pulled out their 1st hit from 1987: Teenland. It was a bit strange watching this crowd sing along to this angsty anthem. But their discography is deep enough that the hits kept coming: Kiss Me You Fool, Things I Do For Money, Girl With a Problem. There has always been humour in their music so Blame It On The Song "lamented" being 50 in a band playing Teenland. To keep things fresh they also snuck in snippets of cover songs in solos and bridges. The night ended with a rousing sing-a-long to their classic "bar song" She Ain't Pretty.

Grin and Bear It

Saturday night, I decided at the last minute to see a late comedy show at the Comedy Bar. Headliner Wendy Liebman has been in the business a long time. I don't know how her other shows went but for this last one, because there were less people than expected, management moved us into the smaller cabaret lounge.

So myself and the audience had to impatiently wait while that room cleared out, resulting in about 1 hour delay. That didn't help with the mood. The consensus, at least from the comics throughout the evening, was that it was a tough crowd and the show bombed. That was only partially true.

The local acts were just OK. The dude with only 5-minute worth of material fared the worst. The 2 women comics, both gay, did better. Though perhaps their jokes about being queer might have gone better with a more diverse audience. Liebman's material needed a larger group. She specialized in a non-stop barrage of punchlines. One example: "My step-sons said, 'You can't make me, you're not my mother.' They got that from my husband." These tend to make people smile more than laugh (me, for instance) but grins do not translate well to a live setting. Hence the perceived "uncomfortable silence" in the room.

Strange Concoction

On Saturday, I swung by a spotless Japanese joint called Teara Lab where they "experiment" with food. This mostly comprised of fusion dishes where Eastern flavours meet Western sandwiches. The conceit extended to the waitstaff wearing lab coats. It was a bit sparse but perhaps they'll pick up customers once the school year starts at the nearby University. In any case, I got the Pork Belly combo ($11.99).

The soy-glazed pork belly came with seaweed, avocado, fried onions, along with the usual lettuce and tomato. Though ostensibly a "hot dog", it was too messy to eat with your hands. The meat was possibly the fattiest pork belly I've ever had. The soy glaze was a bit too over the top and disguised the other flavour. The fries were nice and crispy. Overall, a good lunch but didn't blow me away.

Kind Of Grody

After seeing a Fringe show, I headed down the street and dropped by a small and cozy Indian take-out place called Roti Cuisine of India. Though there were a few tables, the steady stream of customers were there for pick-up. I was excited to see that their main specialty seems to be Indian-style roti and ordered a lamb vindaloo roti ($10.99). It was an OK dinner but didn't blow me away. Similar to a previous Indian roti place on College, it was two interesting tastes that didn't seem to go well together. In this case, it was due to the subpar roti. Though smelling freshly baked, it simply lacked the tastiness of a roti from a Caribbean joint. The whole thing would have been better with naan.

Play It Sarah

Friday afternoon, I went to the Tarragon Theatre to see a one-woman Fringe show starring Sarah Hagen. Being a classical pianist, there was a variety of music played. But perhaps inspired by her recent move to Toronto from B.C., this 60-min performance was a retrospective on the moments in her life that has led her to here.

Since she's not an actor, the show felt more like spending time with a talented friend. In between musical bursts, she regales you with stories from obsessive teachers who demand 5 hour practice to the many people she has met over her well-travelled career. This friend also has a fondness for deadpans and groan-inducing puns. If Hagen was a real friend, I'd ask her how much does a place that can accommodate a grand piano rent for? And if she finds the staid clothing of formal performances boring and would rather wear her bumble-bee costume or 70s Club 54 outfit, both of which she wore during the show, then go for it!

Dine on Dundas

Monday night, I met up with a friend for dinner at Enoteca Sociale. He remarked that he had never been to this area of town, despite growing up here. It's a bit ironic since unlike my recent visit to the Hearn Generating Station, Little Portugal is not some far-flung industrial corner of Toronto. But of course we all tend to frequent the places we know. With gentrification over the last 10 years, it's certainly a hipper stretch than it was when mostly Portuguese men sat around local bars to drink and talk about football.

Enoteca, now a "neighbourhood spot", as it was part of the first wave of trendy arrivals, specialize in a short menu of classic italian dishes. So even on a Monday, it was full and lively. I ordered an Arancini ball ($4), in memory of dearly departed Black Skirt, some chicken liver mousse ($7), and an entrée of Bucatini All'amatriciana ($14). The arancini was a nice balance between the fried rice and tomato sauce. The grilled bread with the mousse was perhaps too much, since the pâté was already rich enough. The pasta was excellent, a perfect balance of toothsomeness, sauce, and little bursts of salty richness from the guanciale. The great meal here reminded me that I've been thinking if I should just stop cooking dinner altogether, especially in the hot summer months. Instead, I could just become a regular at a number of restaurants. The only concern is to keep a balanced diet and minimize the heavy sodium and oil of a typical "restaurant flavoured" dish.

End of The Road

For this year, arts festival Luminato has relocated all its events to the Hearn Generating Station, a decades-old abandoned ruin. On Wednesday, I made my way there for a multimedia show called Song of Extinction. But really, I wanted to see a part of Toronto that I've never seen. To be fair, there are attractions in the area like the Portlands or Cherry Beach that should have provided sufficient motivation.

In any case, local transit stops at Cherry and Unwin so I had to walk the rest of the way along the dirt shoulder with greenery and an abandoned railroad track on one side, with the station's smokestack rising in the distance. It reminded me less of a rural area, and more like the sparsely occupied decommissioned military base near my childhood home.

I had arrived right at 5 pm for the day's opening. Unfortunately, my hope of snagging a walk-in spot at pop-up restaurant Le Pavillon, housed inside the control room, disappeared. A last-minute private party booking scuttled many people's plans. I suppose a feel-good "mission statement" about holding at least 50% of the seats open couldn't compete with well-connected money. After entertaining myself eavesdropping on disgruntled (but justified) complaints, I explored the numerous art exhibit scattered throughout.

But none of them could compare with the station itself, a majestic cathedral full of rusted metals girders and decaying concrete. Only the 10m disco ball could compete in scale. It was finally time for the show. The music, somewhat in a "classical pop" mold, was played by Music in the Barns Chamber Ensemble, members of Tafelmusik Chamber Choir, and VIVA! Youth Singers of Toronto. The libretto evoked the environmental catastrophes of the "Anthropocene". It was accompanied by short clips which one attendee dismissed as "derivative". I wouldn't be quite as harsh, but the videos of slow-motion animals (perhaps to imply some sort of sadness or reproach), industrial activities, and snippets of war were a bit "on the nose".

I was quite famished after the show. But the forlorn Biergarten did not entice. After a long wait for the festival's dedicated shuttle, and an equally long drive through congested traffic, I finally made it back to Union station.

Mmmunchies

There's been an influx of Mexican restaurants into Kensington Market though this area has always had its share of Hispanic stores. But unlike the numerous burrito or tacos joint, casual diner San Cosme's specialty is the Mexican sandwich known as the torta. On a sunny Saturday morning, I dropped by for some. Luckily, I came just before the noon-hour rush because the place filled up quickly.

My lunch consisted of conchinita ($10.50), a side order of house chips Papitas con Chile ($3.00) and a cup of watermelon juice ($2.50). Everything hit the spot. The combination of pulled pork and fried plantain made for a messy but tasty bite. The chips were nicely greasy and crunchy, but I might skip the lime and chili sauce, even if that's part of the offering. It was too acidic and hid the chips' flavour. Along with the cool, fresh juice, sunlight streaming through the glass storefront, and people watching, it felt almost as if I was some place much more tropical than Toronto.

Mid-week Madness

On Wednesday, I was at The Monarch Tavern for an early-ish show. This bar doesn't figure prominently on the music scene but lately they've been booking some fairly well-known (in the indie music sense) acts. It looks like they've beefed up the sound system and stage since I was last here.

I have mixed feelings about Dave Bidini's set. As a long-time musician (and a member of defunct 90s group Rheostatics), he's got a wealth of musical and personal experience to draw on. Notably, he had several songs about a musician's life from the nostalgic (Let's Go On Tour) to the slightly macabre (Desert Island Cannibal). Head-liner The Burning Hell wrote about about their first record purchase (Men Without Hats), Bidini chronicled the numerous life-changing concerts he's been at (I Was There). But twice he climbed onto the bar tables and sang acoustically. It was obvious that he did that to to shut down the loud bar chatter. Sorry dude, you have some good songs but if you're pissed because people who were toddlers in your hey-day don't care who you are, that's life.

The Burning Hell handled the talkers with more grace, and these were actual fans. Though they were front and centred, they also kept up a continuous stream of chit-chat and glad-handing. Lead singer Mathias Korn did scream "shut up" (silently and only to his band) once, but only because he forgot the lyrics to one song due to the distraction. It was understandable though as a typical Burning Hell song (Realists, Amateur Rapper) has an album's worth of words. But their set was too upbeat to dwell on a few early negatives. You dance, you laugh at the wry lyrics, and you sing along (such as the offbeat love song Fuck The Government, I Love You). Korn's verbiage may be the defining characteristic of this band, but the other members had immense technical chops, too. There were plenty of guitar, drum, sax and even bass solos to make a rock band jealous.

Monday Music

Tonight, I was at The Burdock for a low-key show. Because of a schedule change, head-liner Raleigh went first. I was slightly disappointed with their set, if only because I enjoyed their oddly structured songs the last time, and I was hoping that the full band would play tonight. Their music sits on the edge of pop music with strange diversions.

L.T. Leif was more in the confessional songwriter mold. She calls her music drone folk and certainly on her album there's a lo-fi tech feel. With just a guitar tonight, it felt like sitting on the couch with a friend as they put their thoughts to lyrics. She added just enough flourishes to her playing to keep the songs from sounding too much alike.

Music On The Street

Although there were bands playing all day at Dundas West Fest on Saturday, it was really too bright and hot for me. This was a surprise because the forecast called for thunderstorms all week. In any case, by the time it was cool enough for me to venture there, I had arrived to see the final band, Montreal-based The Dears. Although with half the band now living in Toronto, aren't they really a hogtown band now?

A while back, they posted winkingly on social media about a survey that ranked them in the top 5 "most pretentious" Canadian bands. It's also true. Like the gig at Lee's Palace, their set comprised of long, symphonic-pop songs with multiple tempo and melody changes. But most of the crowd were long-time fans, and sang along with every tortured verse and crescendo-ing refrain. I liked them more than last time, probably because of, strangely enough, the weaker sound system of a community outdoor stage. Without massive speakers that assault me relentlessly, 7-minute tunes were more palatable.

Charles In Charge

I had a great time at the CBC First Play show featuring Tanika Charles but on Friday, her CD release show was even better. One, the Rivoli is possibly the best-sounding small venue in the city. Two, she had an even larger band this time around including horns and back-up singers such as Janelle Monique. With only 1 full-length release, Charles played mostly from the new album although there were a few older songs like Parkdale. With funky beats, lovely harmonies, and even some coordinated dancing, her set evoked that girl-band Motown/soul sound. But with tunes about stealing a jeep and driving away from a farm (and an imploding relationship), she was firmly set in modern times. Charles had a great old-school presence on stage and kept the energy up the whole night. The music was even better live, and that's saying something. Because they are good enough on the CD to get her a Polaris nomination.

Nelson Munch

It's been awhile since I've been to Kanto the filipino take-out at Bathurst and Spadina. So when I heard they were have a special BBQ event on Thursday, also known as an Ihaw Ihaw, I decided to head on over. It was a mess. They didn't anticipate the number of people that showed up. So both the purchase line and the food line were long, slow, and chaotic. It took me more than hour before I got my special plate ($17) of grilled goodies.

It was good but perhaps not given the effort involved. Best was the pork and the monk fish. The chicken was middling. The squid was underdone and too chewy. Without better organization, it wasn't worth the trip.

Glitter Is Coming

On Wednesday, I went to the Danforth Music Hall to see Miike Snow. Anticipating a lot of upbeat songs, I positioned myself to the side where there was more space for dancing. Sure enough, his set was full of fun numbers that encouraged wild gyrations. Although he played his biggest hit Genghis Khan only 4 songs in, he had plenty more hits for the large crowd. Alternating between synth and guitar, as well as a high falsetto and a regular voice, Snow kept the room's energy and vibe up for the entire evening.

Verso-oso

The Danforth Music Hall was packed for Courtney Barnett. This trio played big and created a lot of interesting sound and rhythm. It's a neat juxtaposition because this Australian singer is also known for her "stream-of-lyricness". Her songs have so many words that they are closer to a rap tune than your typical pop/rock song. Or perhaps closer to a folk song, but even when "Dylan went electric", he never played this loud and heavy.

Luckily, the sound mix tonight was impeccable. So all the clever rhymes and observations in songs like Pedestrian At Best, Avant Gardener, and Depreston still came through in their wryness. But supported by long-haired metal-esque drummer and bassist, Barnett's set packed so much explosive rhythm and sound that I thought the dude in front of me was going to pass out from his air drumming. Every song was accompanied by weird animation loops projected behind the trio. Sometimes things got so trippy and psychedelic it might have been a 60s revival. After a raucous recall, she came back for a 3-song encore including Pickles From The Jar and Nobody Really Cares If You Don't Go To The Party. Yes, her song and album titles are as verbose as her verses.

Big Shiny Tunes 3

On Friday, I was at the 3rd 90s theme show by Dwayne Gretzky, a "supergroup" cover band. Unlike their winter residency at the Horseshoe, Phoenix Theatre is much more spacious so people took their time to get here. Also, the hometown Raptors was fighting for their playoff lives at the ACC.

Though there was a mix of genre in both sets, Gretzky skewed more rock in the 1st and pop in the 2nd. So the first 1.5 hours got us 1979, Spoonman, and My Iron Lung while the second 1.5 hours came with Wannabe, No Scrubs, Always Be My Baby. There were few elitists in the crowd so everybody was into almost everything although some tunes like You Oughta Know and Sabotage got bigger cheers. The lighters came out with a tribute to Gord Downey when they covered Bobcaygeon. With these live shows, the energy from both the audience and band is so contagious that a groaner like Mr. Jones which might get you some side-eye at a party turns into a loud sing-along when it's done by guest singer Max Kerman (The Arkells).

Like the Sheezer show, I finally got a t-shirt from Dwayne Gretzky. But will this also be my last Gretzky show, too? Well, at the very least, I don't want to wait 45 min in line for a possible door entry at the Horseshoe or the Dakota anymore.

Top of the Pops

Folk singer Ivy Mairi had a show Sunday night at the Burdock. Her backup singer opened the night as Blunt Chunks. Though her fuzzy guitar, looping vocal layering, and lyrical snippets gave her set a meditative aspect, her songs were often too qualitatively similar.

For Mairi's set, their voices blended quite nicely on both original material as well as covers such as The Beatles' Julia. With a full band, Mairi explored pop sensibility with several new songs. I enjoyed these the most only because when I last saw her at The Dakota, she promised a full set of pop music. The audience also loved Strange Love with its 80s Whitney Houston vibe. But Mairi couldn't help but dipped into her old material which had a timeless quality. Both in the sense of feeling like an old folk melody but also running into 8 and 10 minutes long! For her encore, she did a great cover of Bowie's Soul Love.

I Dream of Justice

On Sunday, for the last day of HotDocs, I saw Migrant Dreams, a film about the precarious environment of foreign workers in Canada. Unsurprisingly, they are subjected to poor working conditions, exploitation, and predatory scams. The question period with long-time advocates made it clear that the documentary is meant as a call-to-arms for public engagement.

I don't know if this film can be a wake-up call for the average Canadian because it inadvertently presents worker exploitation as "their problem" and not "our problem". First, the main focus on the shadowy and double-dealing recruiter, because of his shared ethnicity with the workers, gives ammunition to the apologists similar to the usual "it's about black-on-black violence" argument. Second, without the power and prestige à la 60 minutes, they interviewed no Canadian employers, leaving them on the hook only for implied mis-behaviour. A short recording of a two-faced HR personnel, and the derision from the audience, suggests that more interviews with prevaricating employers would have gone a long way to cement the primary thesis: that it's the tacit complicity of these bosses that allow for these conditions to exist.

Dearly Beloved

Of the many tribute shows for Prince taking place around Toronto these past few weeks, I decided that the one at Holy Oak on Saturday was likely to be the most "joyful". The same group of local musicians who put together such a memorable Prince night a few years back was organizing the event. The redoubtable Mary Margaret O'Hara won't be there, but some of my favourite singers will be.

I was glad I got there early with the other senior citizens because the combination of a tiny café/bar and the musician count of around 15 alone meant there was barely any room for any one else. Since they recently had a visit from the police, management was adhering strictly to their capacity limit. But the sad truth was (from my numerous times at Long Winter shows can attest) a venue at "capacity" in Toronto is barely half full. Late-comers stared in disbelief at the empty space but had to content themselves with dancing outside to the music coming out through the open door.

And it was mostly dance music with the song selection coming from Prince's funkier output including I Wish You Heaven, If I Was Your Girlfriend, Sex In The Summer, and Money Don't Matter 2 Night. Folk singer Ivy Mairi was over the moon channelling a pop diva for her rendition of I Would Die 4 U while Isla Craig was her usual sexy cool self. Other singers were unknown to me but all were in top form. They excelled because the tight "house band" provided superb musicianship all night, especially Kieran Adams (Diana) who was a monster on drums.

Cancon

I don't go to multiple CMW shows anymore. But on Friday, I did go to Burdock, which was also making its CMW debut. Perhaps due to its of its out-lying location, relatively far from the other venues, it wasn't a large crowd that came out to see the bands playing there.

Opener Merival sang in the folk singer/songwriter mold. I liked that she showed a variety of guitar techniques, useful in a solo performer to keep a set interesting, but I was on the fence with her songs. A number of them lacked a compelling melody so though I appreciated the songcraft I didn't remember much afterwards.

Alana York came from Halifax. Being both pianists, their music usually had several complex layers, backed by pre-recorded percussions. They straddled between atmospheric pop and a new-age vibe. Often times, the combination of wavy synth and plinking piano made me think of Yanni writing video-game music, but in a good way.

Bernice was all over the map for their set. That is, their default mode were compositions where the musicians played in a chaotic way, with little of the typical pop cohesiveness. It wasn't jazz, but certainly invoking that free-form spirit. However, the dual harmony of the singers provided an anchor that kept things from going off the rails.

The High Sing

It was a surprisingly full crowd at The Horseshoe Tavern on Monday. Opener Mega Bog played a solo set with her guitar and the occasional chimes. Over shimmery guitar, she sang about odd and unusual topics. To my ears, there were often too many changes in her song. They sounded incomplete, fragmentary ideas that aren't given a chance to coalesce.

Cate le Bon charmed the audience with her Welsh lilt, in the rare occasion when she spoke to the crowd. That bird-like cadence also manifested in her usual light singing. But with a full band, her music was quite visceral and muscular. She sometimes let loose with her voice, which was surprisingly full-throated and big. She covered most of the material on her new release Crab Day, but also included several "hits" from past albums. The diverse crowd from the heavily tattoed to the silver-haired set seemed enamoured with le Bon, especially the few times she led the band in extended guitar solos.

The Feminine Mystique

Friday night, I went to The Harbourfront Centre to see Re-Quickening, a dance recital by native company Kaha:wi Dance Theatre. In invoking quickening, or the moment a woman feels her fetus move, the piece explored indigenous women's experience. But "re-quickening" itself is a ritual, the Onkwehon:we Condolence ceremony, which is meant to deal with loss and grief by "purging the eyes, ears, mouth so you can once again see, hear, and speak happy sights, sounds, and words."

As such, it had moments of pain including the opening scenes where the 3 dancers wore hoop dresses  and other times when they wrestled with chairs, sometimes worn over their necks like stocks, which evoked colonial oppression. As for myself, I found the scenes where indigenous culture was on display to be the most moving and exciting. There was one particular sequence where each woman mimicked a mythical being culminating in a fearsome haka display that thrilled me. Throughout the show, there was plenty of water and red-ness represent the pain but also the power (birth/life) of the female experience.

Praise The Sun

I was in the Coxwell and Danforth area on Thursday. Unlike the hipper areas closer to the west side, this area still has some rough edges, although I see that there are trendier spots in the neighbourhood. I decided to eat dinner in a non-descript Mexican place called El Sol.

Its bland exterior hid, some might say a hidden beauty, certainly a keen exuberance. The interior was chock-a-block full of decorations: carved Fabergé-like eggs, religious artefacts (or at least tchotchkes), ancestral shrine, and hundreds of wooden suns. I opted for some tacos sonorenses ($14.95). The plate came out with soft beans, crunchy tacos, fragrant rice, and two soft tacos stuffed with chorizo and potatoes. It was home-cooked flavour, stick-to-your-ribs tastiness. Unlike other places, the chorizo wasn't overly salty. El Sol won't be mistaken for a place like Playa Cabana, but I liked its cheeriness.

Hie Pie

Being off the main strip, Yauca's Lounge on Dovercourt never had much traction with the Bloorcourt Village neighbourhood. New spot Village Pizza is aiming to be different. They're off to a good start, earning a spot in Now's Best Pizza issue with their "authentic" Hawaiian pizza offering, complete with spam.

On Sunday, I dropped by for a slice ($5) and a pop ($2.50). With prices like that, it certainly won't be my go-to place for a quick bite. Two-fifty for a can of Coke? Sheesh. The slice of margherita was pretty good, certainly better than anything offered by the Pizza Pizza at the corner. On the other hand, it was pricier for a smaller slice. Yet despite being just out of the oven, it lacked that wonderful baked dough taste and flavour from places like Pizzeria Libretto. Certainly with a standard pizza oven, you can't really expect more. But on price, typically around $20+ for an entire pie, they are competing against these better restaurants. So they'd have to up their game. Will they last? They do have that trendy hipster vibe. But it is a hidden spot that likely won't get much foot traffic or business from the older working class residents.

We Scream

Later on Saturday, I trekked over to Smiling Buddha for some live, mostly electronic, music. Man Made Hill, in a silver mask make-up and wearing luca libre-esque costume, was committed to getting the crowd to dance to numbers like Clown Dick and Hot for Sloth. He mostly succeeded too, even when he sang about the freedom to Double Dippin' (that's not a metaphor).

Scott Hardware was more conventional, sticking to 4-on-the-floor dance beats. Perhaps because of their set, the crowd was expecting more upbeat from headliner Ice Cream. But despite their shiny lamé dresses, the duo's music from their debut LP was more repetitive and trance-y. It wasn't until about half way through their set that the skittery bass, pulsing synth chords, and harmonized chant-y lyrics finally got the audience to groove.

Clap Clap

On Saturday, I was at The Harbourfront Theatre to see Esmeralda Enrique Company present an evening of flamenco dancing called Épocas. The epynomous number opened with the members of the company invoking famous dancers from the past while their images appeared in the backdrop. There were a couple of dances that I thought were interesting. The combination of the familiar tapping of flamenco footwork combined with rhythmic castanets playing in Canción del Fuego Fatuo was quite exciting. Meanwhile, the push and pull in La Caña between Enrique and Rafael del Pino, a guest dancer from Spain, was primal. In fact, the presence of a male dancer in the predominantly female company added a tangible energy to the evening.

Unmodded

Friday night, I was at the Mod Club for a radio-sponsored (102.2 The Edge) show. The nice thing is that these all-ages event end early. But it wasn't quite as fun as the last few live shows. Perhaps I was being primed by the sponsor banner, but both the opening and closing act felt like variations on Hedley. Not the kind of music that I love.

St. Andrews was punchier Hedley with a bit of Arcade Fire thrown in. Ivory Hours was funkier Hedley meeting a bit of pop. They do have a couple of songs that made good sing-alongs (Hello Honey, Mary, Sleep Alone). I liked them well enough although it was a cover, Feel by Bombay Bicycle Club, that got me grooving.

In contrast, middle act Lost Cousins had a fun set. Maybe I've been in the mood for groovy dancing lately but their music with the funky guitar, singer switching between falsetto and "manly", and even some set-the-mood sax solos was the highlight. They just recently moved here from Kingston so hopefully they'll play more local shows.

No Nostalgia

On Thursday, I participated in two events that scored high on the nostalgia factor. But they both ended up being mediocre experiences ... as perhaps all such do. In the afternoon, I went to World Bowl for some 10-pin bowling. At first, there was excitement and fun. But bowling frame after frame became a chore quickly. The lighting and incessant music didn't help. And you end up with sore wrists and shoulders.

Later in the evening, I had dinner at Harvest Kitchen. The place was packed on both the main floor and the upstairs dining room. I believe part of the draw was the feel of a bustling home: both in the décor and vibe and in the kind of food offered (lasagna, local ingredients, etc.) I had the chicken pot pie ($16.95) and a glass of house wine. The entrée was disappointing, philosophically and actually. A piece of crust sitting on top of a stew is not a pot pie; you need all that juicy goodness soaking into the pastry. Also, it was ok as a "home-cook" meal but not the kind you'd offer to guests. You're better off at Dundas Kitchen.

Some Kind of Wonderful

I was at CBC main office at Front and John for a "First Play" session. Amazingly, this was the 3rd show I've attended where I was blown away by the infectiousness and fun of the music. This time around, it was courtesy of Tanika Charles (and her Wonderfuls). I've heard her singing classic Motown with Big Sound and even some of her own music, usually with a small set-up. The one time I saw her play with a fuller band, it was a great night.

This evening topped it all. With an album's worth of new material (Two Step, Soul Run) plus some oldies off her EP (I Am Your Woman, Parkdale), the backing of a full band, and beautiful sound in a professional studio, it was Ms. Charles night to shine. Channelling soul, funk, sexy R&B, and even some raucous rock, her music had me grinning and dancing for the whole set. 30 years ago, she would be a bona fide break-out star. Nowadays, with the fragmented state of the music industry, I hope some good stroke of fortune vaults her into mainstream recognition.

Some Reservations

On Saturday, I was at Ryoji for dinner.  There was cold Mimiga pork ears ($6), fresh Shima tofu ($8), Takoyaki ($7), Nanban fried chicken ($13), Hamachi carpaccio ($13), and a bowl of Tonkotsu ramen ($11). It's a nice venue with the big light globes. The food, as on previous occasions, were about average. Good to eat but nothing truly outstanding.

What stuck out for me was the distasteful attempts to steer people toward less desirable seatings by claiming that other tables were reserved. I was ready to leave before they gave me a good seat, despite the fact that the restaurant was only a quarter full. This happened throughout the night, as "reserved" tables were conveniently freed up if patrons refused the first choice offered. Maybe this is standard restaurant operation, but it made me less likely to want to return any time soon.

I Can Haz Melody

Friday night, I went to Gallery 345 for a violin and piano recital. Violinist Andréa Tyniec had a surprise for the audience. She will be performing on the 1689 Baumgartner Stradivari which she recently got on loan from the Canadian Musical Instrument Bank. But the first piece, a modern composition by Ana Sokolovic, may have disappointed some who might be expecting heavenly sounds from a "Strad". Though it gave Tyniec freedom to explore all sorts of sound-making, it was resolutely contemporary and dissonant.

However, a virtuoso solo piece from Eugène Ysaÿe (Sonata no. 6) and the catchy Le Grand Tango (Astor Piazzolla) with Todd Yaniw allowed more traditional tones. That was one fine instrument. After the break, it was time for Yaniw to also solo with Prelude Chorale and Fugue (Cesar Franck). The evening ended with beautiful playing of Brahms' Sonata no. 3.

Dancing On The Ceiling

I can't recall a show where I danced for the whole night. But it happened at Smiling Buddha on Thursday. Though boyBITCH started slow with an a cappella cover of All Is Full Of Love (Bjork), the rest of his set was ironic, upbeat, queer dance music. Similar to Weaves last week, I took immediately to trio Most People. They had a tendency to swap or trade musical instruments. How did they do it? By playing long songs that were a cross between prog-rock and funk. Their set comprised a mere 4 numbers, but they were all fun and catchy. Headliner Animalia was releasing her new album tonight. Backed by a live (and frenetic) drummer, the beefier sound system (compared to her disastrous show at Honest Ed's) highlighted the driving power of her music.

Chabi Boohoo

Despite the ubiquity of cafés everywhere in Toronto, I thought that french spot Chabichou at the edge of Little Italy had an extra spark. When I visited last Christmas looking for a present, I was impressed with their mousse, selection of cheeses, and other treats. So I went back on Sunday to try more hearty fare.

I was disappointed with the average decidedly average execution. The grilled cheese sandwich ($4) didn't taste different from your typical diner. The beef bourguignon ($9) was more substantial. Though the cubes of beef were tender, the stew overall didn't excite. The flat pasta was a definite dud: not much flavour or mouth chew. Maybe I should stick to their lighter offerings like croissant and pain au chocolat.

No Take-out

I've been feeling too old to stand around waiting for a late show, but the free show celebrating Make Some Noise's 10th anniversary promised to finish by 9 pm. So I headed over to the Toronto Reference Library to watch this showcase of "local bands playing in libraries".

Twist, now a full band, mined the same territory as Alvvays: lo-fi, slight groovy pop-rock. It was a bit hard to hear the singer in the cavernous lobby. Whether or not they get the same traction will probably be a matter of luck. On the other hand, I expect great things from head-liner Weaves. Primarily rhythmic as the funky bass and drum dominated the sound. Even the singing of Jasmyn Burke and guitar (Morgan Waters, former bassist of Sweet Thing) carried the groove. Whether it was a mosh-pit worthy song or a chill-out cool number, it's been a while since I've taken an instant liking to a new band.

Too Schmaltzy

I was in the Eglinton and Yonge area on April 1st and stopped by Touhenboku Ramen. These noodle shops are now ubiquitous in Toronto in all neighbourhoods. But this joint (2nd of the franchise) was one of the few that offered chicken broth as a option.

Since I've only had vegetarian and pork, I decided to finally try the chicken with the light bowl ($10.50). To be honest, I didn't like it. The chicken fat made the broth felt too greasy. I kept wanting to wipe my lips after every slurp. I can't imagine getting the regular, creamy version. The rest of the ingredients from chewy noodles to tender pork were fine.

Eat On The Run

I was in Ottawa for Easter when I noticed a sign on Montreal Road advertising "Drive Thru Pizza". It was the second day for new joint Drive Pie. Aside from their hook for drivers, they also had a few tables inside for walk-ins. The brochure claimed that the owner wanted to bring back his mom's special dough from the old family store called The Pizza Stop. But there was likely some Middle-Eastern background as well since their "open-face meat pie" were obviously lahmacun. Too bad they weren't ready to make those yet.

So I settled for pocket pies at $2.99. Both my choices were the spinach and feta cheese option. The dough was very soft, apparently a specialty. The spinach was fresh and tasty. But there wasn't enough cheese. I'd rather have a smaller roll or pay more to get more dairy goodness. From the taste, I suspect that this was a variation on fatayer.

New v New

On Saturday, I was at The National Ballet for 3 dance pieces. The last piece, Cacti, was a "loving" critique of contemporary dance. Certainly, parts of it were played for laughs including some ridiculous poses and portentous voice-over from a "modern arts critic". But it was the most warmly received for its kinetic choreography as well as some truly humorous passages. Humour is often missing from modern dance, but classical as well.

The first two pieces were from Balanchine. For this evening, they acted as as bridge to the past since Balachine usually used classical techniques in modern ways. So the Four Temperaments felt of a kind with Cacti, in its focus on technique and non-narration. In contrast, Rubies with its evocation of group dances and village life seemed a musty throwback to a hermetic ballet repertoire.

Quel Horreur

On Monday, I had another encounter with younger purveyors of shiny technology. Once again I'm reminded that they can do flash well, but the basic foundation is usually suspect. Lunch at Jules Bistro at Queen and Spadina was the finalizing period to that thought.

To be fair, this French diner predated all this disruption, all the way back to 2000. And their sizzle isn't that dazzling, but their core is certainly creaky. Any spot that calls itself a French bistro and put out a French onion soup comprising of cuts of carrots and thin blobs of melted cheese should hang its tête in shame. As for the sandwich, anybody can do bland chicken, and they didn't disappoint.

Trunk Food

There's always some new eats in Kensington Market. So when I was passing by on the week-end, I stopped off at Grand Trunk Road, a stall that promised Punjabi street food. The 3 guys behind the counter seemed to be still getting the hang of working a commercial kitchen (no matter how small) but the menu promised fresh local ingredients. The only food available is parota (identical to paratha but made with maida flour) with various stuffing. I opted for butter fruit ($5) and a lassi ($3). It turns out butter fruit was spicy avocado, which went great with the various chutney. I appreciate freshness of the lassi but it had too many "herby bits". In fact, the best part was how fresh everything tasted. Those chutney were much better than in Indian restaurants. The downside, without a place to sit inside, these messy eats are better consumed in the summer.

She Bop

Saturday night at The Burdock, a trio of female singer-producers showed us how to play dance-friendly beats with gusto. Nyssa was first on stage. Her music was more upbeat than when she played The Silver Dollar. But tonight, with her strutting the stage like a young Carol Pope singing about "bad girls" and "life is hard, but I'm easy", some of that dark edge seemed to have returned to her music. Petra Glynt gave us noisy, glitchy tunes backed by her insistent drumming. To be honest, with her small stature, baseball cap, and sly grin, she looked like an old lady who was delighted to discover late in life the wonders of electronic dance music. Headliner Princess Century (who drums for Austra) was disappointing visually. With her standing mostly still, playing long synth chords and triggering tracks, there wasn't much to
look at. It was better to simply close your eyes and experience the drawn-out soundscape.

Sportchek

Friday night, I was at The Harbourfront Theatre for Sporting Life, a remount on the 20th anniversary of choreographer's Julie Sasso's first major work. One attendee was particularly ecstatic, declaring that everyone should have the experience of seeing their favourite work again after such a long time.

I wasn't quite as transported away by this episodic composition examining the violence implicit in typical male interactions. But I was intrigued by several set pieces. The male dancers (and one woman) dressed in the standard suit and tie engaged in often competitive posturing through kinetic and jagged dance. Several times, they were literally racing each other around the stage.

It was the accidental juxtaposition or subtext that I found most interesting. As the Asian businessman held down a struggling Black colleague, sometimes under the gaze of a Caucasian coworker, I thought about recent examinations of the role of other POC in the Black Lives Matter movement or the harmful "model minority" myth. When the dancers donned dresses and acted "feminine", the female performer seemed, to me, to gracefully burst free of her constricted menswear. Meanwhile, the men could not "pass", no matter how much they tiptoed or gyrated. Was it because women are trained (or at least expected) to know how to "be like men" but men are ridiculed if they "act like women"?