Arcade Fire @ Massey Hall

...was awesome. I just wish I could have actually seen them from my crappy seat in the left gallery.

More importantly, though, on this date in 1953, Charles Mingus, Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Max Roach, and Bud Powell gave what is considered one of the greatest jazz concerts ever at Massey Hall. I'm not sure if they'd be proud, but they certainly shouldn't be turning in their graves.

May seems to be the month for concerts - much to my dismay, as I'm off on vacation soon. Laura Veirs plays the El Mo this Saturday, but sadly I've already made plans. (Why can't she be playing her native Seattle when I'm actually there?) The Slip - one of those bands I keep meaning to check out - plays the Mod Club on May 18, but I'll be out of town. Coco Rosie this Monday seems to be cancelled, and I would go see Pony Up at the Silver Dollar instead but I'm seeing the Arcade Fire the next night on the 15th.

I keep seeing banner ads for the Cliks everywhere and their natty attire and punk scowls almost make me want to check them out on the 24th, but I've just bought tickets to see Mother Mother at the Drake on the 25th. And it's a good thing I've already seen the Golden Dogs live or else I would have had a hard time choosing between them; they also play the 25th, at Lee's. Not to mention it's a really good thing that I bought tickets to Joel Plaskett's show on the 26th instead of the 25th, or else I would have really been disappointed about missing Mother Mother yet again. Oh yeah, and if I were a rabid Feist fan it would have really exacerbated the situation; like Joel, she's also booked in Toronto on the 25th and 26th.

The Bravery come to town on the 28th, and I would probably go see them if I weren't already inundated with choices. Aussie blues-folk-rockers the John Butler Trio play the Phoenix on the 30th, and I feel obliged to see them in order to compare notes with a friend.

Then we spill into June, and the Pipettes play Lee's on the 1st. CSS plays the Horseshoe on the 4th, and I'm tempted to see them again in such a small, divey, sweaty venue.

And I thought it was going to be a slow year for concerts.

Sonny Rollins @ Massey Hall

A brief hiatus due to a vacation, a hectic work schedule, and just plain laziness. But with the number of big concerts past and ones forthcoming, it was time to start blogging again before the backlog became overwhelming.

I don't know what's happened to jazz. I would have happily stood up from my seat in Massey Hall last night and danced madly during Sonny Rollins's entire concert (like I suspect I'll be doing next week when the Arcade Fire roll into the same venue). But I'm sure someone would have told me to sit down, especially since we were in the third row from the front. I wonder sometimes if jazz greats miss the days when they weren't famous enough to play huge sit-down concert halls to middle-aged upper middle class folk.

I didn't know anything about Sonny Rollins, although I knew the name, and knew that I must have a few of his recordings on various jazz compilation albums. The friend who'd bought the tickets knew even less, but buys so many show tickets from Massey Hall and Roy Thompson Hall that we got into a "Preferred Members" pre-show event in the lounge where music professor/writer/critic Rob Bowman waxed ecstatic about Rollins for an hour. Unfortunately we missed the beginning, but it was pretty awesome, and not just because of the refreshments. It was great to hear someone talk excitedly about Rollins, because it got us excited about the show.

The comment that piqued my interest the most was that Rollins still swings, and has a great sense of humour and joy despite his cerebral technique and spiritual goals. And he did. The lights dimmed, and this little old gentleman wearing sunglasses and a long coat shuffled on stage. According to his bio, he's 77 (!), but when he played, the years vanished. I was amazed that he could be both atonal and remarkably lyrical. Not at the same time, mind you -- it amazed me that he was comfortable with both styles.

Highlights: the percussionist who specialized in traditional African instruments; the drummer who played with his mouth hanging happily open like a puppy, even during the slower-paced songs; the music nerds (myself included) who clustered around the stage during intermission, gawking at the instruments; and my inability to sit still during the entire show.

Lowlight: the couple who showed up at our row, confused by the people sitting in their seats. An usher took a closer look at their tickets and said, "Oh, those are for yesterday's show." Which was Ron Sexsmith with Amy Millan. I bet someone slept on the sofa last night.

Sonny Rollins website
Sonny Rollins on Wikipedia

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Coming soon: Coco Rosie, the Arcade Fire, the Joel Plaskett Emergency, and a sojourn in Seattle during which I hope to catch some live music. And that's only in the next two weeks!

Jazz Lives 2007

This is third year that Jazz FM has put on their fundraising concert at Convocation Hall, and this is the third time I've attended. So far it has yet to disappoint; there are always acts I've always wanted to see (Emilie-Claire Barlow, Kurt Elling), acts I've never heard of that blow me away (Kenny Rankin, Adam Makowicz), acts I have heard of that blow me away (Pat LaBarbera, Michael Ruby, Amanda Martinez, Kevin Clark, Colleen Allen) and those returning that I'm happy to see (Jeff Healey, Sophie Milman). No Peter Appleyard this year, though.

There was even a Surprise Guest in the programme (my favourite act after TBA), who turned out to be Randy Bachman. He played a couple of songs that made me realize that he's an amazing guitar player as well as a songwriter, and then he and Sophie Milman performed "She's Come Undone".

Some time in the past few years, when I wasn't looking, Emilie-Claire Barlow dyed and cut her hair, glammed herself up, and learned how to hold back. I used to listen to her a lot until I tired of her lack of nuance; although remarkably skilled for someone so young, her singing was like a machine gun going off in all directions. I was pleased that her voice has matured and grown some affectations, and that she still makes it sound so easy.

The other performer I'd been looking forward to was Kurt Elling. I didn't know anything of him other than his distinctive voice and ability to wring meaning out of a lyric without going over the top. Whenever I hear him on Jazz FM, I have to stop what I'm doing and listen.

I was thus surprised to see what he actually looks like -- in my head, I had always pictured a Denzal Sinclaire-like groovy black dude at a piano with dreads and cool glasses. Instead, this guy in a natty brown pinstripe vintage suit and slicked-back hair came out. He looked like an old school Italian-American mobster, and had a bit of a lounge lizard vibe when he spoke. He didn't even play piano. But his voice and interpretation were still grand, and the interplay between his singing and his pianist was tight. That's probably why I'd always assumed he accompanied himself on piano.

The biggest surprise of the night (besides Ralph Benmurgui's dark hair when I could've sworn I saw him on King Street last week fully grey) was Kenny Rankin. I knew nothing about him, had never heard his name before. We speculated that perhaps he was connected to the Rankin Family but he turned out to be an American singer-songwriter in the tradition of Gordon Lightfoot and James Taylor. Despite his age (at least in his fifties), he still had an amazing, pure, young voice that sounded as if it had come straight out of the 1970s. He brought the house down with his rendition of "Blackbird".

30 jazz giants, one stage, one night only. That pretty much sums it up, and I look forward to next year's show.

Hollywood: the Epics @ Roy Thomson Hall

"These are not the seats you are looking for."

A friend called me up on Monday. "Are you free Wednesday night?" he said. "I've got a spare ticket for the symphony."

"Sure, I'm free," I said. "Wait -- what's playing?"

"Not sure," he said. "The theme is Hollywood movies or something."

"Oh," I said. "Well, as long as it's not Mozart."

I haven't been to the symphony in years, and I confess that even though I probably know more about classical music than the average person, I've never enjoyed the symphony. That is, watching a live orchestral performance has never blown me away like I always expect it to.

I always thought it was because I have a hard time reconciling what I see with what I hear. I realized last night that that's only a small part of it. I like music to be a little raw, and human. Symphony orchestras play as a single well-oiled unit, for the sake of the piece. The composition is human; the live performance rarely is.

The other problem with last night is the nature of movie music, or at least the arrangements put together for performances - brief suites or preludes that cobble together all of the soundtrack's main motifs (often running the gauntlet of tempos and treatments) in under 10 minutes.

Anyway, it was worse than I expected. The night was titled "Hollywood: the Epics" -- which meant the most grandiose scores from Hollywood's most grandiose movies. When Stormtroopers greeted us at the door, I suddenly realized that I am a classical music snob. I enjoy the Star Wars films; I enjoy (some) classical music. Putting them together, in my mind, is just plain wrong.

Seeing people get excited about the show also made me a little angry. A five-minute suite evoking hobbits and Sith Lords and Hollywood-style romance only scratches the surface of what orchestral music is capable of. I know it's important to make classical music more accessible, and get younger people in the seats, but there has got to be another way.

There were a few worthwhile moments, though. The overture from Around the World in 80 Days actually made us want to see the movie. ( And it made me want to dance with maracas. ) We also learned that Kubrick had added the classical soundtrack to 2001: A Space Odyssey as a placeholder for composer Alex North -- but after North composed his own original soundtrack, Kubrick decided to scrap it and stick to the classics.

Rosza's "The Lord's Prayer" from King of Kings also surprised me with its rich sound and constantly shifting chord progressions. You would have never guessed it was from a film. And I confess that John Williams' Theme from Schindler's List had a quiet gravitas; unlike typical Hollywood soundtracks, it held back, and the lead violinist performed beautifully.

It doesn't make up for the sappy "Lara's Theme" from Doctor Zhivago or the suite and "My Heart Will Go On" from Titanic. During the latter, I turned to my friend and whispered, "I'm going to poke my eyes out." When Darth Vader strolled onto stage at the end and chased off the conductor after the Star Wars suite, I thought, "I'm turning in my grave -- and I'm not even dead yet!"

So there you go. I'm a snob. But the day the Toronto Symphony Orchestra performs the film scores of Bernard Herrmann, I'm there.

Sebadoh @ Lee's Palace

Sebadoh is the band I would've loved to have seen when I was 18 and hanging out almost every night with my friend Colin. We'd sit in his dorm room and talk about music and literature and people we knew, or goof off in the piano room in the basement, him bashing away at the keys, and me singing. He wasn't a trained pianist and I wasn't a trained singer, but we got by. And believe it or not, there was no sex, drugs, or alcohol involved -- just the exuberance of youth. (We were too young and snobby to go to bars anyway, which was probably part of it.)

That's why I bought tickets to Sebadoh's show at Lee Palace. Not because of the music, but because of the memory of those times. I haven't even listened to Sebadoh for years. All I have are tapes -- tapes recorded off of Colin's CDs, all those years ago. Okay, I do have a secondhand copy of Bubble and Scrape that I bought last year, but -- I don't know. It's just not the same when it's not played off of a paint-spattered Maxell cassette with my writing on it (back when my writing was legible).

Did the music hold up after all these years? It did. Colin always did have interesting taste that bucked trends. The set was typical of what I remembered of Sebadoh's oeuvre: jumping back and forth from raucous, quirky, and introspective. The latter two I had always associated with Lou Barlow, so it was a surprise to see Eric Gaffney and Jake Loewenstein spending equal time at the mic (and taking turns at the drums). It struck me last night that Sebadoh is like the jazz pianist Thelonius Monk, who still swings even though his melodies are offbeat and atonal. Sebadoh somehow still manages to have catchy tunes even though you'd be hard-pressed to hum them in the shower the next day.

I seem to have missed the first opener, The Bent Mustache (which was probably a good thing judging from this YouTube footage, but I caught Flecton Big Sky. I can't find much about them, which is too bad, because they had a surprisingly rich sound for a single drummer and guitarist playing songs in the lo-fi tradition. So the only other things I can say about them is that the drummer was remarkably enthusiastic for a two-piece band, and the hirsute, portly frontman seemed like he would have gladly given you a CD if you bought him a beer.

The person that got the most applause last night, however, was the guy who got up on stage and proposed to his girlfriend. At Lee's Palace. Yeah. That'll never last.

Flecton Big Sky website
Sebadoh website
Sebadoh on MySpace

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Got my mouse finger and credit card ready for this year's Virgin Festival. Like last year, it won't break my heart to miss any of the acts, but unlike last year, I feel like this lineup is worth my $138. And I need an excuse to dust off my swan dress.

And on my calendar for April and May: Brad Mehldau, Sonny Rollins, Arcade Fire, the Joel Plaskett Emergency, and trips to Las Vegas and Seattle, both musical meccas in their own way. It's going to be a good spring.

I wanna take you to a gay bar

You know how every so often the perfect pop song comes along that encapsulates everything that's going on in your life at the moment? I remember tearing up at a Jane Siberry concert, shortly after a breakup, as she was performing "Love is Everything". All of a sudden the lyrics made more sense than they had when I was a teenager. And as a teenager, Sarah McLachlan's "Elsewhere" had such resonance with me that I can still sing you all the words today at the drop of a hat.

Well, now there's a new addition to the soundtrack of my life. It happened a couple of days ago: a guy stopped me in the street and asked if I would like to go get a drink with him at a gay bar.

So without further adieu, here is "Gay Bar" by Electric Six. Who would have known it was so true to life?

(Warning: this video contains comical footage of men in little shorts.)



(And no, I did not go with him to the gay bar. Even if I would have been a superstar.)

Put your right foot forward

Back after a bout with the flu -- and my maxed-out credit card, which is why I couldn't buy Neon Bible yesterday like a good indie hipster and had to wait one whole day to hear it.

Is it just me, or does David Bowie endorse bands that sound like him? (I guess it's normal to like the things you wish you had made.) Both TV on the Radio and the Arcade Fire have received his blessing, and their songwriting could totally pass as his. It's probably the grandiose, reckless, genre-defying and -adopting that does it. But whereas I think Bowie does it consciously, the Arcade Fire does in unconsciously. Like Final Fantasy, they just seem to write songs without any regard for the standards of pop and rock music.

I can't figure out why I liked Funeral. In fact, it took me a long time to like the Arcade Fire, mostly because I couldn't pin them down. It was only when I labelled them as "infectious" and left it at that that I could let it go. Neon Bible will no doubt be analyzed to death via all manner of music journalism hyperbole (I'm talking to you, Pitchfork), and all I will say is this: the Arcade Fire are still infectious, but I miss the enthusiastic abandonment of the singing on Funeral.

Arcade Fire website
Arcade Fire on MySpace
David Bowie and the Arcade Fire performing "Wake Up" on YouTube It's pretty surreal to see the celebrities in the audience rocking out to the song.

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Speaking of enthusiastic abandonment, I am currently hooked on the swaggering synth-and-brass disco-march-rock of the Wet Secrets, thanks to their 8-song EP, Rock Fantasy, being available as a free download on their website. It's the perfect soundtrack for my walk to work.

The Wet Secrets website
The Wet Secrets on MySpace