CAVALIA: HORSES AND MAGIC

The horses are laying on the plain, no saddles or bits, some quiet, some rolling to find pleasure on the soil, some solitary, some entwined with a companion. People move among the horses, observing them, quietly talking to them, caressing them, but letting the animals have the day, happy to share in their freedom ....

The horses are running, circling the hill, their riders spinning and standing and flipping themselves around the bodies of their mounts, circling the plain, joy in the motion of the people, joy in the motion of the horses ...

A figure appears at the top of the hill, a woman mounted on a horse, both in silhouette; they stand for a long moment then begin to move, the rider still on her seat the horse mincing, moving, a delicate hoof raised, a sideral motion, a dance of rider and human ..

This is the world of Odyeseo, by Cavalia. This show has been described as Cirque de Soleil with horses and that is not too far off the mark. There is a lot going on here: Music played by a 5 piece band and singer, African drummers and musicians, tumblers, ring work, ribbon dancers .. and horses. Lots of horses, 62 in all.

The horses run, the horses dance, the horses have people who stand on them and flip off them and even flip all the way around them. Sometimes they just roll around on the stage. Other times they are controlled by their trainers with just the lightest flip of a quirt and hand gestures and body movement. Groups of four horses mirror the movement of a single human, let around by simple shadowing.

This is a show all about stunts. Stunts by humans and stunts by the horses. There is not really a story and sometimes it seems a bit disjointed. Most of the music is a Cirque-like European vaguely Celtic melange .. then we have the Africans with drums and traditional stringed instruments. Thematically it doesn't seem to coalesce but it doesn't matter much, it is so stunning and original you forget that it may not make much sense.

The staging is almost as impressive as the performances. The stage, under a custom constructed big top, is about 27,000 square feet, allowing the horses to run at will and achieve full gallops. The back of the stage raised up, creating a hill with an enormous wall behind it on to which is projected a wide variety of background. There is an enormous carousel that is lowered from the ceiling where numerous acrobats perform balancing and pole work

There were many things we had never before seen. We've watched many shows with suspended ribbon dancers but I've never seen the dancers lifted off the back of a horse or spun by riders on horseback. I've never seen dozens of horse, inside a tent, on a stage, running through 2 foot deep puddles of water.

The show is about 2 hours long but it seemed much briefer. That's always a good sign. Most of the time was literally spent on the edge of my seat. Also a good sign. My report on this show will be brief (I know, it's shocking, shut the fuck up) because I don't know if my words can do justice to what we saw and honestly, words sometimes rob the memory.

Odyesso was a unique experience. It was a fine example of art and athletics blending together. Of humans and animals working as one. Of music and magic. All under a tent in the middle of my city.

THE ANGEL WHO FLEW US TO MONTGOMERY

There are moments in life, sometimes if not oft times that take us to a new level, that catch us by surprise, that transcend.

Last night at the Bonnie Raitt concert at Massey Hall,  we experienced one of those moments. We love Bonnie. We have for years; chances are if you love this singer/guitarist you have been carrying on this affair for years as well.

Her show was flat out wonderful. Her band, many of whom have been with her for 25 years was of course spot on. And she demonstrated that her voice and guitar playing are as effective and moving as ever they were.

Bonnie Raitt's slide guitar is sensual, sexy, expressive, dirty, fat and full of feminine kickassery. Her voice is something special, full of depth and and heart, it is fluid and smokey and rich and silky; it can be quiet and it can be raunchy and it's always powerful.

Ms Raitt has recorded the John Prine classic Angel from Montgomery several times and it is a staple in her show. She's been singing it since the 1970's. I have always loved this song, it is one of my Prine favorites and it has been successfully covered many times.

But last night, from the very first note, I knew something special was about to happen. Several times Bonnie talked with a glow admiration and even adoration of the venue in which she was singing. Massey Hall is a very special place. It is hands down my favorite place in which to hear music. Almost every musician I've seen there have seemed in awe of the place.

Last night Bonnie Raitt expressed her awe of this Victorian venue in the way only a true singer could.

What she did with Angel From Montgomery was magical. I mean that. Magic is something unexplained that takes you to an unexpected place. It transports you. You transcend.

I don't know if people were breathing as Bonnie sang this song. She is obviously familiar with this song but she is more than familiar, she feels it and last night every iota of that feeling flowed out over us in the audience. It is a sad song but there is also a hint of rage in it but a quiet rage, a defeated rage and that makes it all the more sadder. Bonnie knew what the characters in the song felt, she respected those feelings and through her interpretation so did we.

It was more than a special moment. And it reminded me why I see live music.

Ms Raitt gave us another special moment. The first song of her encore was one of her biggest hits, I Can't Make You Love Me, another incredibly familiar song. One of those songs that casual fans gravitate towards. You wonder if she's sick of singing it. Bonnie's career is so long and multi dimensional I wonder if she almost resents being pigeon holed by this song and a couple other of her hits

After last night, I would have to say know. Bonnie sat on a stool, not holding her guitar, spotlighted softly, her nimble band playing softly. She did not just sing this song, it poured out of her, it came out of her, and it rolled over us. It's a sad song. It is an incredibly true hurtin song and my god ... this woman just sang it in a way that I will remember for a long time

Bonnie's opening act was Marc Cohn. Marc is a long time favorite of Collette and I. We saw him many years ago, in a small venue (now defunct) on the Danforth on his first Canadian tour. We have seen him a few times since but not for a long time.

We were happy to see that Marc's voice and his piano playing and his endearing honesty have all remained over the years. He is heartfelt and he is funny and he can just damn sing. We all knew that Walking In Memphis was coming. In the early years he almost threw this song away. It is the song for which he is best known but there is so much more to him; as I did with Bonnie I wondered if he almost resented the song.

Nope. Not a bit.

Marc's version of Memphis last night was moving, it was fresh, it was lyrical in both words and playing and it brought him and I back to those moments in Memphis many years ago that not only inspired the song but most of his career.

Another moment that surprised, that moved, that lifted.

That transcended

WALK WITH FOUR FEET AND CARRY A BIG STICK

Border Collies are over achievers. Seriously. They are of course known as sheep herding dogs. They also herd cattle. And they're used to shoo geese off beaches and runways. And space shuttles, they're trained to herd space shuttles. When more border collies began to go into TV commercials and the numbers available for herding became reduced, that's when NASA cancelled the shuttle program.

Border collies are one of the most successful Frisbee sport dogs. And agility. And obedience. And tae kwan do. Border collies excel at this traditional Korean martial art, to the extent that most predict that border collies will dominate the tae kwan do events at the Olympics. Why do you think North Korea is developing nuclear weapons.

As I mentioned, border collies have become very popular in Hollywood. They are all over TV commercials, one co starred with Jeff Bridges in the movie A Dog Year. Many breeds of dogs are used in movies but what border collies really want to do is direct. I understand Martin Corsese may be retiring.

Then there is Miss Terra. She can't be satisfied with fetching a humble old stick. Oh no, not my border collie. She wants to fetch logs, trees, the beams of Spanish galleons, most of the Amazon rain forest ... all at once.

All of which means it's been a while since I've done a Terra video so I took our little Panasonic point and shoot camera to the dog park.

Here you will see my dog assembling material to build the world's largest dog house. It will have four stories, a two car garage, hot tub, eat in kitchen, space shuttle launch pad

Fucking border collies.

Oh, this video will give you a perfect opportunity to play Spot the Typo. Because I'm not an overachiever.

Fucking border collies.

THEATRE REVIEW: YOU MUST GET LOW BEFORE YOU CAN GET HIGH

How weak is our flesh. How strong is our heart. How devote are we to our beliefs. Alone at night with our darkest thoughts and with the knowledge of our guilt and our shame, which offers the more powerful succor; belief or a flight into chemical solace

These are some of the issues addressed in High, a play currently showing at the Royal Alexandra Theatre.  I admit that as we entered the theatre I knew almost nothing about this play or its author Matthew Lombardo. Our main impetus to view this performance was its female lead, one Kathleen Turner.

Kathleen Turner is a movie star. Body Heat, Romancing the Stone, Prizzi's Honor ... a long list of strong performances in good movies. A performer known for her strength, her sensuality and of course for that smokey husky voice. When we had the opportunity to see her in a small three person play of course we jumped at it.

High is a drama with a capitol D. Ms Turner portrays a nun, a recovering alcoholic with a dark and shattering history who works in a drug rehab centre of a church. Sister Jami is a drug counsellor and her newest case is Cody, a gay hustler and heroin addict who may or may not have raped and murdered a young boy during a particularly nasty drug binge. Yes, drama indeed.

Father Michael is the sister's boss and although Cody is not normally the kind of case with whom the church deals, he insists that Jami work with the young man. The reasons behind this insistence become complicated, personal and at times pushes the envelope of credibility.

This indeed is a large D drama, there is conflict within conflict, the plot lets nobody escape unscathed and the issues dealt with are all dark and powerful: Addiction, rape, murder, guilt and guilt and more guilt .. after all, this is the Catholic church we're dealing with.

There were times when it was difficult to feel that some of the story's plot points were not installed for simple shock value. And some of the story revelations are delivered with a fairly heavy hand, you can see them coming 20 minutes before they show up on stage.

The play works best when it examines the cause of addiction rather than its results. Guilt works heavily on all of the characters and its through interaction with one another that the guilt from their past is revealed. Ms Turner addresses the audience in several monologues but these speeches prepare rather than reveal. The revelation comes as each character confronts one another, as it should be.

After seeing and thoroughly enjoying such "big" performances as War Horse it's nice to see a "small" play, three actors, a couple of very simple sets, where the words and the performances become the focus. For me, this is the essence of theatre.

As to the performances: Timothy Altmeyer as Father Michael is very effective. The early part of his performance is nicely balanced as the character uses a combination of humour and discipline to compel Sister Jami to handle this difficult case. The last part of the play forces a character change on Father Michael that seems jarring but this is more a deficit of the story than of performance.

Evan Jonigkelt as Cody is a bit disapointing. His twitchy, sniffly, gesticulating junkie is predictable to the point of stereotype.

But the reason we came to see the play was Kathleen Turner and in that regard we were not disapointed. Profane, humorous, calculated, impassioned ... Turner gives her nun depth and humanity. The husky voice is of course there; the joke is you can't really tell if Kathleen Turner has a cold but I think she really did  but that did not hold in back in a performance that is equally physically and emotionally draining. Her monologues were spellbinding and during a moment where her character has to deny another the emotional support that he needs, a simple turn of the head and raised hands said more about the Sister's emotional fear than any amount of words.

Lurid plot points aside, there is some real satisfaction in High. How does one deal with horrible events in our lives, why do we get high, why do we need to get low before we get high. Sister Jami looks up at the sky and the stars that she saw as a little girl and wonders why she can't touch those lights. Why can't she be high.

I'm not sure if I would reccomend High the play to a lot of people; it is dark and there are no happy endings. Some of it rang incredibly true to me, some of it seemed contrived. Overall I was happy with it. I was extremely happy with Kathleen Turner's performance and would recomend it for that.

HE SHOPS, HE SCORES!

I am not a hockey fan. But I'm Canadian.

That statement means something. As much as we may want to fight the cliche, hockey really is something that is part of the integral fabric of this country. And I'm not talking NHL here. I'm talking hockey.

You don't have to think very hard to come up with the names of people close to you, who are involved with hockey. I have a brother who plays hockey. I have a brother in law who plays hockey. I have nieces and nephews who play hockey. I have friends who's kids play hockey.

When I was travelling across rural Quebec we passed these tiny little towns, at night just a small collection of lights in the darkness but they all had two things in common: A church spire and a hockey arena. I won't speculate which structure was held the most holy.

I can remember when I lived in Kingston, when I was going to college, I had been late at the library, and I was on my way home passing through City Park. It was late and it was winter; it was cold that kind of cold that seems to change the timbre of sound. It was too late for the lights to be on in the small outdoor rink but I could hear it as I approached: The sound of steel on ice, that scrape that only a skate blade can make and the hiss of the wooden sticks, the breathing of the players. It was just two guys, the rest of the teams gone home but there was still something in them, some energy that needed to be dispersed. So they were skating in circles, sticks on the ice, no puck, no game, just centrifugal motion of their need to connect to the whole thing: Rink, ice, sticks, blades.

That's hockey.

So, I'm not a hockey fan but I grew up with it, I'm surrounded by it. I live in a city that wishes it had a big league hockey team .... yes, I live in Toronto.

I'll give you a moment.

Take your time.

OK, moving on.

So I have some familiarity with the NHL. I listen to sports radio when I'm driving around as background, they do cover baseball and the UFC, the two sports I watch from time to time. And they mention hockey .. just a little. So I know who some of the players are.

I know that violence and fighting in hockey is still as contentious as it ever was, perhaps more so. Especially concerning blows to the head, concussions, etc. A very real and a very serious concern. I follow this debate as a spectator a few times removed .. until today.

Today I found myself thrown first hand into the realities of hockey violence.

I wasn't in a rink, I wasn't on skates, and I wasn't holding a stick. I was in Costco's, I was wearing hikers and I was pushing a grocery cart. I was moving forward, in the neutral zone, about halfway between the entrance and the meat counter. Suddenly out of nowhere a player from the opposing team checked me into the boards ...

 OK, actually he just crashed into my cart. Good thing he didn't actually check me in the body because I'd likely have a new limp. Because the player in question was Darryl Sittler, former NHL player and former Toronto Maple Leaf. I'm not certain how old Mr Sittler is now but I pretty much experienced a biological eclipse ... dude is big.

I think it was a cheap shot. Should have been a whistle blown. I was about to pull jersey and go knuckles .. but I looked at that scarred visage and the hands the size of cooked hams and just said "Excuse me Mr Sittler."

Darryl just shrugged and smiled and said "Sorry"

Damn, when will the violence end!

THE LISTENER I AM THE PLAYER I GET

Looking back on some of my posts I realize that I've been a bit remiss in some of my topic selections (I know, me thinking about things is a shock to us all) I've gone on and on about movies and books but really haven't talked much about music. And I've been known to listen to music .. obsessively at times. So let's try to make up for that in one fell swoop. Here's some stuff I've been listening to lately




Jack White Blunderbuss:

A blunderbuss is a weapon, a muzzle loading firearm with a huge barrel that sailors used to employ to clear decks. They would load it with all kinds of shrapnel, anything that would spread out over a short distance and cut up whatever was in its path. It's a very apt name for Jack White's first official solo recording

I can't say that I was a big fan of the White Stripes, the band Jack had with his sister but in the last few years he's been very busy as a producer and writer for other people and I've appreciated the results. It was why I was inspired to buy this CD and I have not been disapointed at all.

This is a rock album, in that it features real instruments, including White on guitar but it covers a few kinds of formats. I hate when people ask "what kind of music does he do" Musical categories are pretty much the creation of radio station programmers and record company PR men. They serve no real purpose. Let's say this music is raw, funny, sometimes emotional and a little odd

Inside the rock pervue there are a few styles covered here: Punk, funk, even a taste of dubstep, all informed by White's blues/rocks roots

White is a surprising vocalist. His voice is rough and untutored but he can emulate vintage punk artists from the 80's and sometimes sound so much like a later stage Robert Plant that it gives you goosebumps.

His guitar playing is terrific, be it choppy electric or lyrical ballsy slide. The guy can play and the guy can write. He has a point of view all his own; he's odd and that works in a musical sort of way



Bonnie Raitt Slipstream:

Bonnie's first CD in several years. It's a Bonnie Raitt recording. If you like Bonnie you'll like this, if you don't like Bonnie please get up now and run fast as you can into the nearest brick wall. When your vision clears, give your head a shake.

Bonnie is another artist who defies categorization. There is blues in her music, in her sultry assured voice and her sinuous slide guitar, there is also "country" in her self effacing and inner gazing lyrics, there is pop in the slick production of the music and what was once called blue eyed soul in her delivery of the material.

Bonnie's voice has held up quite well over the years, there is a touch of huskiness to it now that serves her quite well especially on the hurtin songs of which there are several. The guitar playing is not only as limber and effective as usual it may actually be getting better. A scary but welcome thought.

Speaking of the blues ...

Gregg Allman Low Country Blues:

Did you hear the one about the southern band fronted by a couple of brothers who grew up on Delta blues and were once so dedicated to the effects of the peyote button that they each had an image of the plant tattooed on their legs ... Yes that would be the Allman Brothers.

Duane was the guitar player in the band and died too long ago and way too young. Gregg was the organist and vocalist and his road has been a somewhat bumpy one including a liver transplant and the over glammed and publicity driven marriage to the entity called Cher. Let's not dwell on that.

Low Country Blues is Allman's first solo recording in about 14 years. As the saying goes it ain't the years it's the mileage but in relation to the blues, mileage is good. And this is indeed a blues album. It's produced by T Bone Burnett and for me, that's pretty much a sign on a CD that declares Don't Question What This Is, Just Buy It, It's Going To Be Awesome. And it is.

Allman and Burnett are a pair of tremendously knowledgeable blues fans and they dip into the well here with songs like Rolling Stone and Little By Little. But Allman is far more than a student of the blues, he's a genuine blues man. He not only knows this music, he loves it, he feels it, and it's expressed in his beautifully worn voice.

Speaking of worn voices ...

Leonard Cohen Old Ideas:

This really is becoming an "old artists making new music" post but what the fuck, these are some exceptional old artists. Cohen is an artist who I put on the same status as Tom Waits: Totally unique, driven by impulses that have nothing to do with commerce, lyrically advanced, musically playful and as haunting as any music I've ever heard.

The voice of Leonard Cohen. What can you say about it. It's an instrument. It's not fluid, it's not delicate, it's not melodious. But it has always been expressive, it has always been so entrenched in his lyrical point of view that even though many others have sang his music and done so beautifully (can we say Rufus Wainwright singing Hallelujah) they always seem somehow right when Leonard sings them.

On this new recording the instrument is shaded as never before. It's often a whisper, sometimes a growl, it's moving and shivery and along with his complete command of music and lyric it pulls you in, deep into Leonard's rich and sensuous and mysterious world.

Of course there is passion in these songs and a world weary point of view that has been Cohen's trademark since the very beginning; yeh, he's seen it all and he's seen more than you could ever imagine. But there is also his humour, much of it self deprecating.

From the song Going Home: I love to speak with Leonard, He's a sportsman and a shepherd, He's a lazy bastard, Living in a suit

Besides the lyrics I've always loved the arrangments of Leonard's songs. Amen is a soon to be classic: A sad trumpet, a wistful violin, a reflective brush across a symbol, Cohen's sad and insightful voice ... these are the things that make me happy.

Speaking of dudes named Cohen ...

Adam Cohen Like A Man:

This is Leonard's son but you don't need the surname to tell you that, the voice gives it away. It is not the master's whisper, it is robust and nuanced but there is no doubt it is the voice of a Cohen. There is also the Cohen turn of phrase and full command of irony. It's a very mellow CD, sparsely produced which generally works for it. It does miss Leonard's command of instrumentation and his knowledge of musical style in general but it is not a Leonard rip off. Similarities exist, but Adam is his own musician and one worth watching.

Suzie Vinnk Me & Mabel:

I've written before about this CD. I've been a fan of Suzie a long time, I've been lucky enough to see her play live many times and have maybe three of her other recordings. Live, I know Suzie as a blues musician but her CDs cover a broad range of musical styles.

On Me & Mabel, Suzie for the first time in her recording career goes deep into her blues suitcase. Not only does she address blues standards like Walking By Myself and You'll Be Mine, she does so in a largely acoustic fashion; many of the song are just Suzie and Mabel, Mabel being her acoustic guitar. I've always known Suzie to be an accomplished instrumentalist but the guitar playing here is a revelation. As always, her voice is beautiful, poignant, ballsy, wistful and tough.

OK that's my music post. Please acknowledge. Now you may retire.

NEW YORK CITY MUSINGS

It's been a while now since our trip to NYC. I've posted blogs that reflected what we did there, what we saw etc with accompanying videos. Now it's time to do a little reflection on the trip and some of the impressions of that city

New York City is the City of the Hustle. Everyone there hustles. From kids on street corners trying to sell you their rap CDs by putting your names on it, to outright panhandlers, to the Empire State Building where they make you have your photo taken in hopes you'll buy it as a souvenir later on. The hustle was everywhere, from the pedicabs to the Central Park horse drawn carriages to waiters to cabbies. The hustle is persistent but it's not aggressive. If you met it head on it was easy to deal with. It was a sport that I mostly enjoyed.

New York is a city that appreciates its past. While here in Toronto one sees countless cranes constructing yet another condo, NYC was clad with scaffolding as they refurbish on of its historical buildings. Of course New York went through its condo phase, it's famous for it, but even something like the Chelsea Piers, a gentrification project that laid waste to an old neighbourhood, not only put in a great deal of public facilities but also maintained some of that historical feel. That just doesn't happen in Toronto. We loved all the Victorian and turn of the century buildings in the city and we could not get a clear picture of Carnagie Hall (which was next door to our hotel) because of the scaffolding

Toronto is a city of neighbourhoods but NYC is the city of neighbourhoods. Chinatown, Little Italy, Greenwich Village, Chelsea, Harlem .. famous neighbourhoods, all of them with long histories and their own distinct personalities. I liked the fact that every neighbourhood had its own park or square, some more than one. I particularly enjoyed Madison Square Park. With its trees, its chess tables, its sculptures, its mosaic tiles, it really was this little oasis of calm in the middle of the city. There were more locals than tourists, enjoying the unusual warm day in March, taking a moment to pause and breathe with the city all around them

New York City:

On the street you can get hot pretzels, fresh fruit or chicken gizzards on a stick .. what more could you want

People wave to you from bridges as you pass under them on the rivers. Homeless guys give you advice, and good advice, where to buy a real deli sandwhich. The Carnagie Deli, as it turns out

There are a lot of dogs in Manhattan. Like a crazy amount of dogs. But you can't let them run free in Central Park. And the fenced in, off leash areas that we saw were about the size of a postage stamp and filled with indoor/outdoor carpet. Terra would go in there, give you the border collie head tilt as if to say "No, really, this is funny but where's the park .. no, really dude, where the hell is it."

People were friendly. Yes we stuck mostly to touristy areas but even as we wandered off track, residents were more than helpful. On our one sojourn into the subway a young woman was very helpful to us in our confusion. The same could not be said of the ticket seller himself. When in Chinatown expect even the subway employees to not only be Chinese but to be .. well .. really Chinese.

Things move fast in NYC. The people, the traffic, the taxis, it really does just go like bats out of hell. Jaywalking is a major contact sport but I understand why. The blocks are short, the red lights frequent and you feel like you can never really make progress. The traffic is startling. Traffic lights are merely suggestions, apparently, and New Yorkers creativity is expressed on their ability to make lanes wherever they go.

There are bicycles in New York but unlike Toronto they know how to keep to their places, ie bike lanes. Yes I saw bikes in the streets but most people seemed to grasp the concept that bicycles are for bike lanes, not traffic.

It really is a 24 hour city. I heard more traffic sounds at 3 am than I did at 4 pm The subway also runs 24 hours a day.

We found a discount liquor store. You could buy a bottle of Jose Cuervo that would cost you 60 dollars in Ontario for 20 bucks. I know why there are so many taxis in Manhattan.

Oh and it's not pronounced Man hat tan. It's pronounced Man hat in

Just so you know