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!