Winter Treat

Friday night, I headed to Chinatown to the Cecil Community Centre. I don't know if this building often hosts evening events but tonight Venus Fest was presenting the second album release of duo Ice Cream.

The venue is a converted church so it was a dramatic view inside the auditorium. The airy space had a large chandelier hanging from the soaring dome. The stage was the converted altar, wide and deep, with steps leading up and a staircase on the right side where the artists enter. There was a large, eclectic crowd for this show.

I arrived just as opener Slash Need was getting into their second song. As their music was thumping EDM, it was a bit muddy for the small sound system. While her band-mates twisted knobs on stage, the singer, in black and white face-paint and wearing a pleather suit, strutted among the crowd shouting (and occasionally singing) lyrics. Several dancers were arrayed at the front to help with the performance. They resembled rag dolls with their burlap bag-esque balaclava complete with painted lips and eyes around the face openings.

Ice Cream came down the stairs to dramatic synth. Amanda Crist was wearing a glittery fish-net dress over a white bodysuit while her band-mate Carlyn Bezic wore an off-the-shoulder orange number. But with their assertive stage movement and dramatic stances, it was clear the clothes were for them and not being eye-candy. The first half was a change from their previous sound. The syncopated percussive synth-pop of Banana Split, 0.22, and Peanut Butter had the feel of 80s Prince.

The band expanded for a few songs with Aerin Fogel (Queen of Swords, Venus Fest founder) adding some alto sax on Modern Life and Not Surprising. The latter half of the set got heavier, more Nine Inch Nails, as Bezic played more guitar including an extended solo. They ended the evening with the growling, industrial Bun Roo. But despite sustained cheering didn't return for an encore.

Hail Seitan

On Wednesday, I was at Lee's Palace for a mid-week show. In the crowd, there was a lot of piercings, tattoos, lacy goth dresses, and black clothes with pentagrams, Baphomet, and other wholesome symbols. The merch tables were likewise covered with similar t-shirts, jewelry, and posters. But it ended up not much different from a folky night at The Burdock.

The most devilish act was opening band Twin Temple. The two leads were dressed in black with blasphemous red symbols. They blessed the crowd with liquid from chalices taken from their altar, dual inscribed swords, and a quick Black Mass. But don't expect loud, raucous noise from this group. Backed by organ, sax, and drums, the world's first (and probably only) Satanic doo-wop band took the crowd back to the sock-hop era with catchy tunes. But lyrics from numbers like Lucifer My Love, Devil Didn't Make Me Do It, Sex Magick, and Wicked made it clear they were about defying norms and "hex[ing] the patriarchy". Even with an abbreviated set, they finished by anointing eager participants with bloody streaks on their foreheads.

King Dude had the deep, growling vocals of a Metal singer. But he was a story-telling troubadour, even if his love songs were more depressing than usual (and included some Satanic/Hell references). His brother contributed on a sample pad, not so much percussion, but occasional subsonic rumbles. The last part of his set was based on audience choices and ended with Lucifer's The Light of The World and the bluesy I Want to Die At 69.

Amigo The Devil came on stage to Ray Parker Jr's Ghostbusters. That was a hint that the set, and the performer, will be goofy and funny. Danny Kiranos, the self-described "fat Dave Grohl", had plenty of charming stage presence and banter. But he backed it up with a big voice and guitar. Though some songs were on the jokey side (One Kind of People, Dahmer Does Hollywood), other songs dealt with heavier topics like depression (Cocaine and Abel) and suicide (First Day of The End of My Life). I laughed at I Hope Your Husband Dies including the sing-along intro of Smash Mouth's All-Star, a quick digression to John Mayer's Gravity, and getting the crowd to turn to the back and belt out the chorus at the chatty bar flies. I was on the fence about Perfect Wife with its over-the-top domestic abuse lyrics. Yes, the husband gets his at the end. But the bros near me (who were not demonically attired) sang along just a little too lustily. I'm feeling a Dave Chappell situation with that song. Overall, I can see why Kiranos' murderfolk has a loud, devoted following.

Fast and Furriest

On Saturday, I was at The Baby G for the EP release of the 80s-esque band Rapport. As I waited for the show to start, I realized that this small venue was so named because it was owned by the same proprietor of The Garrison down the street. Sometimes I miss the most obvious thing.

The first band was Pax. They had a garage-rock, DIY aesthetic fronted by a dead-pan, mumbling singer. The songs were short and punchy. I didn't love their set until the lead guitarist introduced some psychedelic riffs into the later numbers.

Bueller had the best set of the evening: all killer, no filler. Their pop-punk was fast and catchy but showed a variety of sounds. From the snarky Bubblegum to a hint of doo-wop in Only You, they kept things lively. They sang about body positivity (the tongue-in-cheek Beach Bod) and an ode to a departed pet dog "chilling in heaven". With 4-part harmonies and fun sing-along choruses ("I can't wait to be on my own"), I'm surprised they haven't gotten bigger. I wonder if Bueller was just a fun side-project. And I regretted that it's been 2 years since I last saw them.

Headliner Rapport gave us a set of 80s sounds and rhythms, updated for the new century. Maddy Wilde (Spiral Beach, Moon King) was the titular lead, although Kurt Marble (Twist) took over for a few songs. That retro-feel wasn't a total surprise as the 3rd member Mike Perreira is also part of Most People, another full-on 80s dance band. Although there were more hits than miss, the duds reminded me that some of the music from the Yuppie decade was paint-by-numbers dull. But at their best like In The Dark, it was sweet satisfying pop. Also, the mediocre sound system at this venue muddied up the layered quality (the hallmark of 80s composition) of their music. Since Wilde had put out the word that there will be a prize for best accessory or hat, a number of people came with boas, princess cone hats, and other amusing head-gear.

The Personal Is Political

Once again, I found myself at The Burdock for an early show after stuffing myself with a veggie roti at Vena's. I had been anticipating Wednesday's show because Taryn Kawaja was playing. I first knew of her when she joined Ben Caplan's band and had a major impact. I kept missing her rare solo sets, usually played before a Caplan set. But after all this time, she was finally showcasing some new solo material.

Kawaja's short opening set with just an electric bass and her on piano was a revelation. The new songs (Hum, Choreographers, Pilot Man, Again We Are Strangers) were snapshots of a relationship slowly falling apart. It was partly the fault of the woman, at least in her view. But it seemed mostly the man's: taking things for granted, engaging in destructive habits. Kawaja played with the pop structure: changing the length of verses, using near or internal rhymes. Combined that craft with a raw emotionality to her singing, it was a wonderful set.

I highlight Kawaja's skill because head-liner Gabrielle Papillon wasn't quite at that level. I'm mostly over love songs (with rare exceptions like the previous set), so I appreciated Papillon tackling other topics such as social anxiety (I Don't Want To Go To Sleep), Me Too movement (Shout It Out), and being true to yourself (New Age Faces). But her metronomic approach of regular meter and on-the-nose rhymes made them sounded generic. I kept imagining them used as background music to fan-edit tributes of popular TV shows uploaded to Youtube. She could write a catchy chorus though.

This was the second recent show where socially relevant topics failed to engage me because songwriters often treat them as speechifying. This Do-You-Hear-The-People-Sing rallying cry approach could sometimes work. But I think Suzanne Vega's Luka is a better model: using a personal story (even if fictional) to illuminate a larger concern.

Consider The Lobster

On Monday night, to satisfy some out-of-town friends' curiosity, we visited Fishman Lobster Clubhouse. Recently profiled on David Chang's Ugly Delicious Netflix series, it doesn't really need the extra publicity. So even tonight the place was about half-full.

The place is designed to give you a feeling of spectacle. You enter a huge open room, something like a cross between an old-time Chinese tavern (the kind in kung-fu movies) grown to enormous proportion, a fancy banquet hall, and a larger-than-life Texas steak-house. The walls were tiered rows of glass tanks filled with crabs and lobsters. When you order your dinner, they bring the selected crustaceans to your table for approval and with that, the inevitable pics of diners holding aloft their still-living meals.

Our set dinner comprised of a 15 lb lobster mountain consisting of 3 lobsters, a 6 lb king crab, some chicken soup and a dish of snow pea tips. We also ordered some fried noodles for the kids who were only mildly interested in the seafood, though they were keen on the french fries and crispy fish chunks mixed into the mountain.

The top of the mountain was good, with big chunks of batter-fried lobsters to eat. Near the botttom, it was more of a chore with the leggy bits, and felt more like eating chitinous chicken wings. The steamed crab provided a nice change from the fried food.

I knew it was an expensive dinner but the $700 or so bill was a bit of a shock. My portion was about $140. In retrospect, I don't think I would have gone if I had known: not even as a one-time experience. I still eat meat though I'm mostly on a plant-based diet. Yet there was something macabre about the whole photo-op situation. Secondly, eating nothing but lobster and crab for an hour became a chore. Finally, for that sort of price, you can have a fancy 10-course banquet dinner at a Chinese restaurant or visit a higher-end sushi place. Both would give you a wider variety of flavour and dishes.

She Said Boom

On a bright Sunday afternoon, I went to a piano recital at Gallery 345. Instead of yet another retread of Beethoven and ilk, classical pianist Sarah Hagen highlighted women composers in a show entitled Wonder Women. She actually had a hard time researching these composers as for the most part, they've faded into obscurity. So in addition to playing their music, Hagen gave short bios on them before various pieces.

It's no surprise that the patriarchal cultures they lived under limited their opportunities during their lifetime and erased them afterwards. Yet under these conditions, some of these women still created a large repertoire. Most of these works are probably lost forever, such as the other 24 sonatas by Marianna Martines, but Hagen is hopeful they are simply gathering dust in some basement archives at European universities. It was interesting that their families were supportive including Felix who published some of Fanny Mendelssohn's work under his name. It was usually domineering husbands who scuttled their career. It was amazing, Hagen noted, that Germaine Tailleferre still believed in the power of love and romance. The other forces were dismissive critics. Cécile Chaminade was popular enough to have "Chaminade [listening] clubs" throughout the U.S. but the unfair label of "domestic music" has tarnished her reputation. A few like Dora Pejačević and Lili Boulanger probably just died too young.

There were many eyebrow-raising (from a modern perspective) details but Hagen tried to keep it fairly breezy and upbeat. As a performer who also has a comical Fringe sketch called Perk Up, Pianist!, she got lots of laughs with her dry wit. Whether it was Toronto's moniker of The 6 was surely "professed love" of 1920s French music or Agathe Backer Grondahl being from the "Holy Land" (Hagen's ancestral Norway), it was enjoyable listening to her banter.

The music itself was wonderful. I was particularly taken with Hermit Thrush at Morn (Amy Beach), the Largo from Sonata in E-flat Major (Marianne von Auenbrugger), the Adagio from Sonata in G Major (Marianna Martines) and Nocturne Op. 6 No. 2 (Clara Schumann). These gentler passages shouldn't be taken as evidence that women write "pretty music", another biased charge against these composers. Hagen pointed out that some of them were "wicked pianists", among the best in their day, and it came through in some of the more fiendish passages. After the show, I picked up a copy of Hagen's new album, Women of Note, that highlighted Auenbrugger and Martines.

It wasn't all sad stories. Clara Schumann had an equal and loving marriage, though given some of her biographical details, she definitely carried the heavier load. She was also likely the first pianist to play from memory, inspiring (positively or otherwise) Liszt to do the same when he heard about her exploits. The happiest people were probably the Martines sister. They remained unmarried and devoted themselves to music; knew and lived in the same building in Vienna with Haydn and Porpora; and hosted soirées where Mozart would drop by with duet sonatas, specially written to be played with Marianna.

And if the modern audience thought that those sexist days were in the past, Hagen told an amusing story about a recent showcase where she played some of Martines' music. A man accosted her afterwards, disbelieving her about Marianna. His source of knowledge? He was from Vienna and would obviously know.

Hot Pocket

With a rare November snowstorm and cold snap this week, I've been cocooning at home since Monday and bailing on several shows. But Friday night, I decided I needed a change and made my way to Lee's Palace.

It was already about 3/4 full for the first opener Grizzly Coast. It was a standard indie-band setup and sound, though there were some interesting lyrics (High Functioning, Zuzu's Petals). But I couldn't concentrate on them because the lead vocals was off-key. If her lower register wasn't in tune I would have entertained the wild idea that the sound engineer was pranking them by feeding a slightly off-pitch vocal track through her monitor.

The highlight of the evening was Begonia. Fronted by Alexa Dirks with aplomb and charm, it was the balladry of Adele meet the sing-rap phrasing of Lizzo. She already had some fans, both Manitobans and non, but Dirks converted the entire room from the first number The Light. After a couple of catchy songs, she cemented it with Hot Dog Stand, an anti-love long referencing Smoke'n Bob's in downtown Winnipeg. This Toronto show was augmented by the harmonies of Jill Harris and Meg Contini (The O'Pears) on a few songs; both Living At The Ceiling and The Beats were gems. From barn-burner Fear to the closing Out of My Head, Begonia got the crowd to cheer, stomp, and demand an (non-existent) encore.

This was the biggest show for local band Fast Romantics so they brought extra stage lights. It was a good fit for them, as their songs tend toward Arcade Fire-esque anthems and sing-alongs from Everybody's Trying to Steal Your Heart to Get Loved. Sometimes the lyrics can be a bit grandiose and bombastic. It was a strange crowd though: there in full number, yet rather passive (compared to their shows at The Horseshoe) except for near the front. Perhaps the promoter, radio Indie88, got some people curious. But there were obviously fans who knew the lyrics all around me. The next year feels big for them: with several years together and being a sizeable group, they need to break through to the next level of mainstream popularity.

Ja Nein

On Saturday, I was with a packed house at The Fleck Dance Theatre for the final night of ProArteDanza's The 9th! Over the years, I have seen pieces from this dance company set to one of the movements from Beethoven's 9th symphony. But after almost 10 years, it was all coming together as a complete work.

ProArteDanza bills itself as a contemporary ballet company. Throughout the evening, that DNA was evident in the melding of modern dance, sometimes even hints of hip-hop/break-dance repertoire, with classical spins, extensions, and lifts. Their other strength of dazzling speed and pairings were also on full display.

Co-choreographer Roberto Campanella wrote that he took some inspiration from images and videos of families separated by the Berlin Wall. That was made literal in the 4th movement by a video projection of a huge barricade made from wooden chairs that slowly fell apart. On stage, the 2nd movement had a row of chairs with dancers moving and reaching for each other across this artificial wall. At the start of the 3rd movement, these chairs became collaborative and positive props that, in some cases, were linking them together as the performers formed chains by holding on to the chairs between them. This middle part was my favourite portion of the work.

It also highlighted the main theme throughout: both sides of unity and individuality. In unity (and often propulsive formation choreography), they found strength and comfort. But there was also oppression and confinement. In individual freedom, the dancers soared. Yet their movements sometimes became disjointed and staccato. It was as if social isolation caused a breakdown of their mental psyche.

The last section was the weakest, relatively speaking, of the work. But it was due to the huge, cultural impact of "Ode To Joy" in the 4th movement. It is simply too difficult, perhaps impossible, to put your own definitive stamp on such monumental music. The 9th! was one of the most enjoyable dance recital I have seen in a while.

Importance of Being Earnest

After eating a filling roti at Vena's, I stopped at nearby The Burdock for an early show. Belinda Corpuz (actress, songwriter) had just finished her first number. Accompanied by Malcolm Connor on the upright bass, she guitar-picked through a selection of emotional songs from her EP including Waiting, June, and Storm. She did a nice cover of Overjoyed by Bahamas where she noted that she got to strum instead.

Emma Priya (also actress, songwriter) took the stage with a strong, driving number called Patterns. She was relatively new to performing music; she has been doing various gigs including open mics around the city. Her goal for this year was to play a show like tonight. With her band, she did songs called Little Girl (an ode to her younger self) and Beyond Borders (after visiting family in India). This Is Love was probably perfect for her friend's wedding but was too saccharine for me.

Perhaps because of their non-Caucasian heritage, Corpuz's grandmother came from the Philippines and Priya is biracial, there was a willingness to explore stories beyond the usual love songs. But this hasn't quite translated into verses that are consistently compelling. Sometimes there was a bit of an official anthem of WE Day vibe. Hopefully, they will continue to develop their craft.

O Canada

Tuesday night, I was at a packed Lula Lounge for Okan's album release. For the occasion, NYC-based pianist Dayramir Gonzalez played the opening set. Being the first Cuban artist to go to Berklee on a full scholarship, his talent was readily on displayed. His sunny disposition charmed the crowd as he explained the many Cuban musical influences on his playing. It was quite interesting when he talked about turning an 8-beat Afro-Cuban rhythm into a "jazzier" 7-beat line before a song. The only drawback to his exciting set was the muddy mix of percussion (congas and drums) due to the under-powered sound system at this venue. Gonzalez was joined on-stage for the last two numbers by the women of Okan: a complex take on the Cuban classic El Manisero (Peanut Vendor song), and a propulsive composition called Moving Forward that was the best song of the set. Many tonight probably hoped that his first time in Canada will result in more visits.

Okan started their set at the back of the venue. As they made their way forward, they pounded hollow percussive poles into the floor while singing. The band on-stage launched into a bright, complex number that got people out of their chairs. Then Elizabeth Rodriguez (violin) and Magdelys Savigne (percussion) called on the ancestors on the title track Sombras for guidance and protection. Though the Afro-Cuban roots as well as their classical music training were strong throughout their set, living in Canada has brought other influences. Quick Stop, a composition by Savigne that provided quite a work-out for Rodriguez, brought in Balkan and fiddle flavour. Their set was the best sort of "world music": full of vitality, organic, and authentic.

Pearl Sits

I managed to get through a vigorous Yoga class on Saturday despite an ongoing cough and lethargy. Combined with an afternoon drizzle, I decided that it was time to get some warmth-generating food. I headed over to Raku at Queen and Augusta.

This location of an NYC-based restaurant is non-descript with no signage. There is just a small menu set in a wall and a recessed door behind some fluttering drapes. Inside was equally small but more welcoming with a clean minimalism: a few tables and a row of seats by the other wall. There may be smaller diners in Japan itself but even in pricey Toronto, this was a small space.

Since their specialty is Udon, I ordered a wakame udon bowl ($13) and some kinpira gobo ($6). Japanese ramen shops are fully established here over the last 10 years. But I can't think of any other Udon noodle houses except for student-haunt Manpuku by OCAD University. So I used that for my frame of reference, considering that a bowl here is 3-4 times more expensive than the latter.

The gobo combination of burdock root, carrot, and daikon was a nice start. It was crunchy with a rich mouthfeel from the oil dressing. As for the soup, at first I wouldn't say you can tell it apart from the cheaper ones at Manpuku. Definitely, the seaweed and broth were fresher and tastier but it was a subtle difference (though the well-balanced richness of the broth became more obvious with each slurp). I actually didn't like their tororo konbu flakes as much; it was a bit of a gooey mess that was unpleasant texture-wise. But when I got to the noodles, there was no doubt as to its superior quality. Thick, slightly flatter than mass-produced udon, it had a wonderful chew. Each bite was fun and enjoyable. It was even better than most ramen restaurants, though it might be an apples-and-orange deal to directly compare them. Raku is a gem of a place even if it's easy to miss from the outside.

Rock In Peace

On Friday, I headed to Lee's Palace for Death To T.O. This 9th edition of Toronto bands doing covers alternating between The Cave upstairs and Lee's itself. The show was on November 1st instead of Halloween like usual but since that night was rainy with gusty winds, it wouldn't have been as much fun without the sold-out crowd.

Compared to previous years, it was a bigger audience right off the bat. But the show started slow for me because the first 4 bands were a bit hit-and-miss: Beastie Boys (Dear-God) was a little shaggy; Twin Rains/Secret Sign played a pitchy Depeche Mode; Eno was all right but let's face it songs like Needles In The Camel's Eye aren't mainstream; Gorillaz (The Effens) did get audience buy-in (Feel Good Inc., Kids With Guns) but they were also kind of rough if enthusiastic.

Vypers finally got the right mix for Billy Idol. They had the 80s outfit and hair and book-ended their set with the hits (White Wedding, Rebel) so even Eyes Without a Face kept the crowd going. They could have toned down the cheesiness a bit and their late start derailed the rest of the evening with each set playing later and later. And I was so happy at that point that a Dan Burke show was on time. With the venue now fully jam-packed, I decided to stick to the main floor instead of trying to get upstairs for Heart (Hot Garbage) and later, Echo & The Bunnymen (Sahara).

Nyssa as Robert Palmer also covered the hits (Irresistible, Addicted To Love) and the lesser known tunes (Johnny And Mary). Her overt hip thrusts were something Palmer likely didn't do but they got plenty of cheers. Kudos to her male band members for wearing little black dresses. The biggest cheers and crowd sing-along was for Céline Dion (Jessica Upton Crowe) and songs like Power of Love and It's All Coming Back To Me Now. If her covert reliance on lyrics sheet sometimes bordered on karaoke, her big voice (albeit in a lower key) did Céline proud. She even managed a wardrobe change between the penultimate number All By Myself and closing ballad My Heart Will Go On.

The upbeat mood turned into non-stop dancing for Vallens' Madonna. Robyn Phillips was fully committed with not just a blonde wig, but the full pointy-bra Blonde Ambition outfit. Their set included mega-hits Hung Up, Express Yourself, Like a Prayer, and Ray of Light. Beautiful Stranger got a rock treatment for slight break in the frenzied dancing. With the show closing in on 1 a.m., I skipped out on Led Zeppelin (Witchrot) and The Shangri-las (Shrinehouse).