More Than Fifty Ways

I spent the week following Christmas cocooning thanks to both public holidays and paid time-off. With New Year's Eve on the last Sunday of 2023, there were likely parties and events in Ottawa. But to be honest, I rarely celebrated New Year's even in Toronto. It was thanks to streaming shows during the pandemic that I actually stayed up past midnight in the last few years.

The success of last year's combination of a live concert at History venue and streaming on Youtube convinced supergroup cover band Dwayne Gretzky to continue this tradition. So I settled to watch my 4th New Year Eve's stream even though I tapped out after midnight at the end of their 2nd set. I caught up with their final set the next morning.

For this year's concert, Dwayne's line-up grew to 17 members with the addition of a horn section. Their presence added a lot of oomph to the arrangements; Dwayne's version of You Can Call Me Al never sounded so good especially with Anh Phung's flute solo. With 13 years of existence, they also reached a milestone in their career. Midway through the 1st set, they played the 800th cover song in their repertoire: Tears For Fears' Head Over Heels. Song 801 came soon after with James Baley's spirited rendition of Love The One You're With.

Set two was also a lot of fun and ended on a high note with Meg Contini's How Will I Know and a full-band cover of Everybody (Backstreet's Back) complete with dance choreography. It was 12:30 am and I needed to call it a night. When I came back the next morning, someone in the chat had mentioned that set 3 was the best one yet. The final hour was wall-to-wall bangers: Jill Harris' impeccable German for 99 Nuftballoons, Lydia Persaud's assured Hold The Line, Contini's soaring Alone,  Carleigh Aikin's blistering Piece of My Heart, and Baley's joyful Freedom! 90.

Though Dwayne has always done "oldies", in the early days it was still a young crowd. But perhaps 13 years later, they have aged out with both Gen Z and the tail end of the Millennials cohort. I barely saw anyone under 40 in the crowd shots. In fact, many attendees were on the other side of the mid-century mark. It didn't help that Dwayne only played 2 songs released in the last 25 years: Backstreet's Back and The Darkness' I Believe In A Thing Called Love for the encore. Even an unhip grump like myself know that "modern music sucks" is a laughable attitude. As professional musicians, they'd probably feel the same but maybe they don't want to alienate their core demographics. Come on Dwayne Gretzky, it's not yet time to play on cruise ships!

So This Is Christmas

I met up with a friend for brunch on Saturday. They were a rarity in that they did not live in the suburbs. Yet despite being relatively close to Tamis Café, they have never visited this downtown filipino restaurant. We were supposed to see each other again after meeting up in the summer, but they were incommunicado through the Fall.

I opted once again for dasilog which has increased to $19. After our orders, we got to talking about their "disappearance". They were busier than usual, partly because the oldest child had joined a challenging high-school program, but also their new role as manager in a different department was frantic. I was glad I didn't need 3 cups of coffee to get through the day. Being a CPA, they were aghast that I've been keeping my money under a mattress. Now I have an investment plan to grow my money. They actively managed their own financial portfolio but I'd rather pay investment fees so someone else handled the work. I recounted about my recent trips to Toronto and my friend expressed an interest in seeing the postponed Retrocity concert next year. We both saw that band when they lived in Toronto. I didn't think their schedule would permit it, but I promised to let them know.

On Monday, I went to my sibling for Christmas dinner. It was a bit shocking to realize that I haven't seen their family since last Christmas. The full extended family was there except for 2 absences: my oldest uncle who was no longer comfortable driving at night and my grandma who felt some joint pain. It was a large dinner spread. Their spouse had prepared a full turkey dinner with sides along with curry noodles and char siu pork. Relatives also brought spring rolls, Vietnamese coleslaw, dried persimmons, and grass jelly desserts. There was also a large tray of home-made cookies (so my Toronto cookies became a gift instead) and my niece tried her hands at a raspberry cake.

My youngest cousins were starting to feel stifled in Ottawa. One was heading to Calgary because a new romantic partner was going there for post-grad studies. I asked why they weren't aiming for Vancouver or Toronto. It turned out that, as a suburbanite, the love interest didn't like crowds. But on a trip to see a band, they realized that The Danforth was not Kensington Market. It was possible to experience peace-and-quiet in the big city. A lesson learned too late but Vancouver was still a remote possibility.

The other cousin was regretting their return to Ottawa in 2020 after undergrad in Toronto. I didn't say anything back then but I was skeptical of their decision. Sure enough, the lack of a nightlife and the unreliable public transit were problems. Could they re-establish themselves back in The Big Hog without a high-paying job? Unfortunately, they were someone with the skill but not the temperament for hi-tech.

This Christmas there was one new member added to the clan. And there will be another next Yuletide because a cousin was expecting their second child in March. But I suspect that will be it for another decade. On the other hand, with the older generation well into retirement now (my grandma is 95 this year), the family could start to shrink in a few years.

60s Minute

Thursday was much colder than previous days. After posting on social media about the allure of Bloorcourt and Bloordale, I headed out along College St. My destination was Barbershop Patisserie to pick up a pre-ordered box of Christmas cookies. I saw that Middle-Eastern café Arabesque was opened so I went in for a bedouin spiced tea ($3). I also ordered an arabesque pizza ($3.99) which resembled a rolled-up pita with stuffing. Mostly I wanted to chat with the owner as it has been over a year since I've stopped by.

He seemed to have aged quite a bit since then, having trouble remembering cities and locales. Since immigrating to Canada, Toronto has been good to him and his family. He spent decades working in auto manufacturing before retirement. The café was just a chill place to hang out during the week; on week-ends he drove his sports car up to the family cottage. His sons had successful lives in the States. But today I found out that, as a young man, he was a jet-setting journalist. Backed by Saudi money, it was the life to fly first class, stay in fancy hotels, and travel all over Western and Eastern Europe, the Middle-East, and even East Asia to report on "human interest" stories.

The topic came up because I was talking about Moroccan shop Mashi Moosh in the East End. It turned out his spiced tea was inspired by his visits to that country. He also had a connection to Ottawa. One of his sons got his doctorate from there and still maintained a house in the area. But as for himself, he also thought that the Nation's Capital was a boring place to live.

At Barbershop, I was tempted by the store display and bought some croissants and savoury pastries in addition to my cookies. I thought about doubling back for pho at Pho Linh due to the frigid weather. But I needed some greens and headed up Delaware to Bloor for a veggie plate at Laziza. I also grabbed samosas at Dosa Mahal though I was tempted to order masala fries.

In the evening, I pondered my choices because there's always something going on in Toronto: Jason Collett's Basement Revue at the Paradise, Jennifer Castle at The Great Hall, or Miranda Mulholland and Michelle Willis at the new Hugh's Room location in the East End. Maybe a showcase of up-and-coming POC comedians (Kulture Shock Comedy) at Comedy Bar or new music (Whisper Gang, Day Jasper) at The Burdock? But in the end, with the cold weather and all the walking over the last three days, I decided to stay in instead. You can't FOMO in Toronto even if you're visiting; it's a no-win situation.

Dark Comes Soon

I flip-flopped about heading out to an event on Wednesday night. But I remembered skipping out on what might have been a great show a few years back. Geary Ave. is more gentrified since then, but there was still room for fun. A small recording studio/event space called Division 88 was hosting a Winter Solstice party.

The industrial space had a hip vibe with wooden benches, graffiti, a wall papered over with comic book pages, and a section filled from floor to ceiling with vinyls. The studio area was partially closed off for the show. It was more house party than advertised event, even if there was a door cover and you paid for beer and wine. I was pretty sure any liquor license for the venue was likely of the nod-and-wink variety.

The two hosts for the evening started with a group sing. While Emily Steinwall accompanied the crowd with the repeated lyrics from Crosby, Stills & Nash's Find the Cost of Freedom, Kyla Charter improvised melody and harmony. With the crowd now engaged, Cheyenne Sapphire (a last-minute replacement for Merival) led folks through some moving meditation involving breath-work, body movement, visualization, and vocal releases (singing, yelling, etc.). She then did a combination of spoken word and performance art with Steinwall adding occasional sax and flute riffs. As this artist offered tantra coaching and related teachings, some of Sapphire's verses and movement got rather spicy. I was in awe with someone so unselfconscious and comfortable with themselves.

Charter returned for a proper set. Using a looping station, she layered a cappella vocals for originals (Doubts, Forest Jam, Thousand Goodbyes) and a wonderful cover of Radiohead's 15 step. When I first saw her, I felt she had a sweet but weak voice even if she sang backup quite nicely. But tonight I was astonished by her range and power. Full-throated Earth Mother was a better fit than sad indie girl. Charter had a surprise at the end for the audience (that included many friends) and her father. She was changing her name to Laila Noel as her current name was mostly a feminized version of her dad's.

I left soon afterwards because I was too old for these late-night events. I also don't enjoy house parties and certainly not an (in-all-but-name) one where I was a total stranger. But listening to Steinwall's album Welcome To The Garden (which won a SOCAN prize) the next day, I think I missed out on a great performance. Well, half a FOMO is better than a full one.