Play It Sam

On Thursday, I went to The Paradise Theatre for my first musical event there. Since its renovation, The Paradise is hosting live shows as well as movies. To accommodate this, the first few rows of seats were retracted into the floor leaving standing room for attendees. But tonight, no one took advantage of that space to be up close to the stage until the end. Likely most were reticent to block the views of those seated in the front rows.

The sound quality of this venue was excellent. But it sounded like the technicians limited the music to the two small line array speakers above the stage and some front speakers instead of using all the speakers in the theatre. All the bands tonight benefited from the clear sound mix.

High-schoolers Pascal and Brighide of Moscow Apartment started the first set. Some audience members expressed surprise that such young performers displayed both maturity and musical chops on songs like Be You, Two-timer, Meredith Palmer, and Orange. Their line-up tonight included a female drummer making for all awesome all-women band. They were the only act that engaged cheerfully with the crowd beyond a few mumbles.

I was worried that Bernice would be too quirky and experimental tonight. But their new songs from an upcoming album (Groovelation, Lone Swan, Personal Bubble, We Choose You) straddled nicely the line between accessible groove and strange electronica. Robin Dann's evocative vocals and lyrics were a highlight but the various bloops and bleeps were too loud and unbalanced. I'm not sure if it was the sound tech or the musicians, but what should have been a melodious soundscape was occasionally jarring and unpleasant.

I have only seen Twist in various small venues with poor sound. So I have never been too taken with their music. But tonight's excellent sound gave shape to their jangly indie rock with a hint of California vibe. Propulsive drums and bass guitar, accompanied by shimmery guitars, supported Laura Hermiston's reverb-heavy vocals. They could rock too as their last few numbers including closer Waves finally got some folks out of their seat to dance up front at the stage.

Maybe Any

The Thai restaurant in the strip mall just south of Victoria Park and Sheppard East finally closed late last year. Its lunch crowd was sparse because its offerings were merely serviceable. A sign advertising an Indian restaurant went up for a while.

On Wednesday, I headed over to see the new challenger. It turned out to be Biryanis, a chain with locations mostly in India but looking to grow in North America. They had renovated the inside and put in cheery diner booth seating. The menu was the usual variety of tandoori and curries. There were also some South Indian choices including Uttapam and Dosa, although these were not yet available this week. I guess this is the "and more" part of their slogan.

I looked over the extensive Byriani options and opted for Ulavacharu mixed veg ($10.99) with horse gram (water), vegetables, and spices. It was a large portion of rice that came with a spicy chutney and some raita-esque yogurt. I've never had horse gram so I'm not sure how it should taste, but the dish was nicely spiced with fragrant and delicate rice. The only problem was that there were at most 10% veggies. So it was more a dish to be shared family-style with other entrees. On its own, it didn't satisfy as a complete meal.

The restaurant may want to offer a "meal-style" biryani option for the lunch crowd. I was reminded that when I first moved to Toronto, there was a small Indian restaurant called Biryani House tucked in a laneway (Roy's Square) at Yonge and Bloor. Chef Debu Saha's biryani selection was stuffed with veggies and boneless chicken pieces. It was my weekly ritual that first year to visit them for a Saturday lunch before checking out the latest Hollywood flick at an afternoon matinee. That hidden cluster of shops have long been replaced by a towering condo since 2008. But Mr. Saha continues to cook in the city.

Free Your Mind

On Tuesday, I went to The Comedy Bar for Gender Outlaws. This monthly showcase spotlighting trans, fluid, and non-binary performers started about 9 months ago. For the new year, they've expanded their scope to welcome other comics as well.

Hosts Bee Bertrand and Alice Rose were affable hosts between sets. Their love of reality shows from Extreme Cheapskates to Doomsday Preppers gave them fodder for their banter. Near the end of the show, in the spirit of Marie Kondo, they gave away old, personal mementos to trivia participants ranging from a high-school trophy to a half-full bottle of 25-year-old perfume.

Ashley Cooper came out 3 years ago. So her set was about the reactions from her family, friends, and strangers ranging from bafflement to pseudo-scientific talking points. She pointed out that some people are more accepting of dogs ("Is it a boy?", "No, it's a girl", "Who's a good girl?!") than transgender folks. Bobby Summers was a cynical gay man stuck working in a Starbucks kiosk and despairing about modern romance. The gender fluid Kelly Sanchez did impressions of their small-town parents that were Maria Bamford-worthy. They also chronicled their disastrous foray into dating men after a lifetime of dating women.

Head-liner Melanie Dahling started her set imitating the New-Age chatter of a Kombucha brewer, though she did later admit that she did actually make Kombucha at home. As a 35-year-old with precarious jobs from working retail in malls to being a nanny, she had plenty of existential angst. This also included her lapsed veganism and SAD. She often switched to a Mid-Atlantic accent to emphasize a point or punchline.

All the performers had their moments but I thought Sanchez and Dahling were consistently funny. The former had a manic quality like a friend bursting with thoughts. Her mortifying visit to the gynecologist went over like gang-busters with the women in the crowd. The latter nicely played up the contrast between fast-talking dame and modern ennui. The Kombucha maker bit was perhaps a little too low-hanging fruit to go on that long.

Annamaya Kosha

Monday night at The Burdock, Maya Killtron had two shows. I skipped the earlier show for the kids and arrived there for the 9 pm one. Since it was being recorded live, 6 pro-am cameras were set up throughout the small venue. It wasn't a large crowd so there was still seating for everyone.

It was an odd show overall. There seemed to be a disconnect between performers and audience that never resolved. It was a short set of 7 songs: 2 originals (Middle from the upcoming Fired Up EP, Red Dress from the Never Dance Alone album) and 5 covers: Stay (Rihanna), Because You Loved Me (Celine Dion), Dancing On My Own (Robyn), a 70s mash-up of What A Fool Believes, and a short outro taken from Romeo + Juliet (Everybody's Free To Feel Good). Yet the show ran more than one hour because she told a number of stories and asides between numbers. They were often rambling and sometimes polemical. Definitely the kind of musings between an artist and her fans and friends or family. But with only half the audience being at that level of familiarity, the response was often silence. Killtron's natural wit, amply on display at her last show, did generate a few laughs. But I think she also felt that distance tonight.

Backed by a string quintet, as well as playing her violin, Maya Killtron wielded a strong voice over some interesting arrangements. I still liked this juxtaposition of classical versus pop but not quite as much as last time. My recent show with Mingjia has whetted my appetite for some truly innovative "chamber pop".

B Seeing Ya

Last Saturday, on my way home from a show, I stopped by a decades-old favourite for a late-night slice. It has been on probation for its recent inability to keep regular hours. But the congealed cardboard that I ate finally landed it on my no-go list for next 6-8 months. So this Saturday, I decided that I need to try a quality pizza place.

Tav's (Gnocchi and Pizza Bar) recently replaced an outpost of Pizzeria Libretto at College and Clinton, right next to its older sibling Taverniti Trattoria. Because this Libretto location only did take-out, I never bothered visiting here since it took over from A3 Napoli. I guess other people felt the same as it barely lasted 2 years.

The new spot offered sit-down dining that felt more comfortable than Napoli. The menu was old-school Italian dishes including gnocchi, arancini, pasta, and a variety of pizza. This was a throw-back as Little Italy now resembled more Little Pan-Europe and East Asia.

I chose a Taverniti salad ($13) and a Quattro Formaggi pizza ($18). Overall, it was decent food except for a few details that would bump up the score. The southern Italian salad had a nice mix of arugula, crunchy fennel, olive oil, and tiny salt flakes. But the orange slices were tasteless and watery. That they still managed to enliven the dish made me wonder what better quality citrus could do.

The pizza was a good-sized pie with a nice, gooey mix of mozzarella, gorgonzola, asiago, and brie. There were 2 problems though. First, the brie simply over-powered everything. Second, the crust lacked that wonderful freshly baked aroma. More importantly, it was oddly bland and under-salted. That was only a minor issue for the parts covered with cheese but was noticeable in the end-crust. So much so that I began slicing off small portions such that I could eat the end-crust together with the cheesy bits.

Unfortunately, this wasn't top 10 pizza in the city. The mostly take-out Maker Pizza makes more fragrant ones, and they have regular ovens instead of the fancy brick dome found here. So I won't return to Tav's for their pizza but I might try their home-made gnocchi. Given that's in their name, I hope that those dishes might score a better grade.

All The Kids

The snowstorm during Saturday had abated by the time I headed over to The Monarch Tavern for a "Class of 2020" show. The sidewalk and intersections were a mix of packed snow and slushy melt. But there was a still full crowd at the venue tonight from the first act.

Spirit Josh had a folk-rock indie vibe on numbers like Neighbourhood Boy. Though Jonn Lewis' laconic voice was front and centre, most songs were a group sing. There was a hint of twee-pop like Hooded Fang a decade ago on some newer tracks.

Basement Revolver alternated between indie riffs (Johnny) and plaintive (Romantic at Heart). It was moody music to sway to although a song like Dancing with its power bass and drums did get people to move.

ROACH raised the energy of the bar with their emo power-pop though they did dip into weirder chord progressions. But with beefy numbers, especially backed by drummer Carly Harris, they were about getting those feet moving. Lead Violet De Rege Braga cheekily passed out condoms near the end of their set, though they were probably not merchandised.

Head-liner Luna Li started just a little past 11 pm. This show wasn't quite as good as their support of Hollerado late last year. With a longer set, they started strong with a funky number but then indulged in shimmering but slow songs a little too long. Catchier songs like Opal Angel didn't make an appearance until more than half-way through. Their last 3 songs including Need a Lil Love and Star Stuff were propulsive and showcased their musical chops. That satisfied existing fans but I noticed that a number of curious listeners had already left the stage area about 15 minutes in and the chatter at the back got increasingly louder. Luna Li need a few more high-energy songs or at least arrange a better set list.

Meater-less Child

On Saturday, I prepared to visit an early Lunar New Year Celebration near the Pearson airport. With my experience from last year, I knew that travelling to the location via Lawrence West station was a better option than using the UP airport express. The forecast also called for a snowstorm just like the previous year. This route would take me past a vegan eatery I have wanted to visit. So in case my travel got too arduous, I could always choose plan B.

The day was calm when I left my home. But by the time I reached Lawrence West by subway the wind had picked up and flurries have started. As I sat on the 52 bus making my way across Lawrence, things were looking grim, and there was still another 30 minutes to go. So as Black Creek Drive came into view, I decided to spend today at Mama Tofu instead. It was a good choice because after my hour at this strip mall, the snow was piling up ankle-high and the wind blasted heavy flakes into my face.

First, I got some groceries at the Superking Supermarket next door. I was pleasantly surprised by its spaciousness and produce selection. As I paid for my groceries, I was confronted with a first in all my time in Toronto: a photo gallery of "banned thieves".

Mama Tofu is a tiny Vietnamese vegan spot. Most of its business was likely take-out of prepared food since there were only 4 small tables along the wall. But they also had made-to-order entrees including pho. I opted to have some fried noodles ($10) for lunch and a few to-go dishes including spring rolls (4 for $1), tofu with stir-fried pickled mustard green ($9) and some lemongrass chicken ($2.50).

The noodles were fried crunchy before it was piled with veggies, tofu, and sauce. The sauce softened the noodles so you had the choice of eating crunchy, soft, or somewhere in between, depending on how much noodles you want to mix into the sauce. The various tofu approximated different meat flavour including a mild take on liver. This was no-fuss, "home" cooking without pretense.

Swinging Nod

Thursday night, I was back at The Burdock for another Pianofest show. It was a solo outing for Cuban pianist Dánae Olano García. My first encounter with García was at Gallery 345 and then at various Okan shows. So I knew it was going to be a show full of rhythm and swing.

She profiled a number of Cuban composers both modern and from the 19th century. It was interesting to hear the transition to "Latin rhythm" (what a casual listener associates with Latin music) from passages of classical harmonies. She also had original compositions including Mother and This City which came out of walks around her new hometown. Her improvisations had a strong rhythmic element. It was inspiring to hear the complexity but sometimes it felt overly constrained by her need to maintain the Cuban jazz feel.

García encouraged the crowd to clap along to the last song Big Alice with its simpler Bo Diddley beat. It was one of the only times she interacted with the audience. I hope she will develop her stage presence. Though she was focused and transported during her set, you can often hear her sub-vocalizing during her improv or play long passages with eyes closed, her muted banter created a distance with the listener. I remember how the cheeriness of Dayramir Gonzalez invited the crowd into his playing.

Sweety Mod

On Tuesday, I went to The Burdock for a show in their annual Pianofest series. The baby grand installed on the small stage was a perfect vehicle for Mingjia. Given her previous shows, I thought it was likely to be a fun intersection between Jazz and experimental music. But Mingjia turned out to be an accomplished pianist too.

Her playing was as eclectic as her singing. There was off-kilter, syncopated bass lines; jazz chords that teetered between harmonious and atonal; and shimmering, cinematic runs. Often within the same song. Mingjia also displayed a variety of singing techniques: jazz scats, wordless soprano experimentation, and full-bodied pop and musical theatre. Her verses were likewise eclectic but carefully observant.

The quartet that played with her (Adrian Irvine, Meghan Cheng, Clara Nguyen Tran, Jill Sauerteig) added rich layers. They weren't there to play whole-note accompaniment but to provide complex counterpoint that also ranged widely from pizzicato noise to orchestral harmonies.

With a joyful demeanour despite being sick, Mingjia cheerfully led us through interesting arrangements (Lee Meadvin's Waking Up) and original compositions (Star Star, Floatwalking). Given the set-up, she might be categorized as chamber-pop. But as I sat there, enjoying this first show of 2020, I was thinking of Tori Amos meets Free jazz meets Sondheim.