Earlier in July I determined that I didn’t want all of summer to get away without me doing anything (given that we don’t take the “big” vacations in the summer, something the rest of the world seems to find odd), so I made a list of things I wanted to do:
Swim in a lake
See a play at Stratford (or somewhere)
Visit Toronto
Somehow, in the weeks these activities all got slotted in, other things also came up, so relatively speaking (that is, not compared to the parents and the workaholics, but for me), I’ve been pretty busy.
The weekend after my mother-in-law and sister-in-law visited was the long weekend, which began with a nice long lunch with the girls at Verses. Then on the Sunday and Monday (we couldn’t get reservations on Saturday), we went up to Tobermory. Sunday was mostly about getting there, but we did also visit the little town which was, of course, packed. They have a nice art gallery, but most of the stores are a little on the cheesy side.
We stayed and dined at the Grandview Inn, the only place there listed in Where to Eat in Canada. It was nothing fancy, but it was good food, well prepared, and with a very reasonably priced wine list. The only thing is that the food prices didn’t seem quite as reasonable, with entrees from $27 to $32. On the other hand, I can’t say I wouldn’t eat there again. When in Tobermory, where else you gonna go?
The next day we had a very enjoyable hike in Bruce Peninsula Park.
It seemed a bit chilly for swimming, though, so we moved on to Sauble Beach for that. Though not the hottest day of the summer, both the air and water were warm enough to make that fun.
On the way home, we tried a new restaurant in Goderich: Thyme on 21. This one we were really impressed with—creative seasonings and all. Would definitely eat there again.
The following weekend, I went to see The Tempest at Stratford, with a couple friends. We dined first at The Waterlot in New Hamburg, which was quite enjoyable, then took in the sold-out Shakespeare performance. It was very good! I hadn’t realized that it wasn’t a tragedy, so all the comedy of the first half was something of a surprise! The cast, led by Christopher Plummer, were very good, with the woman playing Ariel particularly impressive (apart from Plummer, but I expected to be impressed by him).
The next day we had a 120th birthday party to attend: a couple who were each turning 60. Although we didn’t know tons of people there, it turned out to be a nice gathering. And Jean finally got to hear the violin he had helped build be played. It sounded very good.
This past Tuesday I had the ladies over to discuss The Best Laid Plans, our book club book and also Waterloo Region’s One Community, One Book selection this year. I would recommend it, though it doesn’t have too much competition in the Canadian comic political novel category.
Then Friday and yesterday, we went to Toronto, by train (which happily didn’t go on strike on us). Weather was quite cooperative in being sunny and warm, but not insanely warm. We visited the Distillery district for the first time, admiring the many art galleries (one of which actually had an original AY Jackson. Just beautiful, and only $551,000!). We had an OK dim sum lunch at Pearl Harbourfront (I think Cameron in Kitchener is better) and a more enjoyable, though not spectacular, dinner at Vertical Restaurant on King West. And we stayed at the uber-cool Pantages Hotel.
Saturday we met up with Joanne and Jon, finally seeing where they live. Quite a nice condo. And after we spent a bit of time at Harbourfront.
Next weekend, the calendar looks clear at the moment. And that’s just fine!
Another thing I like is having Good Seats when I go to any kind of live performance. It’s to the point where I will avoid going completely if I Good Seats aren’t available—or are outrageously priced. Because I’ve tried, and I just know that being too far from the stage really does diminish my enjoyment.
Hence it was that we ended up at a performance of Norman last night.
Norman was playing locally as part of the Magnetic North theatre festival. I had never heard of this festival before, but apparently it’s been running for a number of years now. Every other year it goes to a new Canadian city; otherwise, it’s put on in Ottawa. This year is Kitchener-Waterloo’s turn.
When I heard about it, it sounded like something interesting and that I wanted to support. I was especially excited that Rick Mercer was doing a show as part of the festival. But when I finally remembered to try to get tickets for Rick’s show, the seats just weren’t that Good. Row M, kind of off to the side. It was dimming my enthusiasm.
So I looked through the program for what else might work, and Norman sounded interesting:
Most of us grew up with the work of Norman McLaren. Between slick Saturday morning cartoons or on clunky classroom projectors, McLaren’s mesmerizing work slid unexpectedly into the lives of generations of Canadians.
In the internationally acclaimed Norman, ground-breaking projection technology allows a performer to physically interact with the cinematic universe of award-winning Canadian film pioneer Norman McLaren. Join us as they delve into the vaults of Canada’s National Film Board to combine technology, animation and theatre in an unforgettable visual experience.
Seats were not actually being assigned for this, which made me think they weren’t expecting a big crowd. Smaller crowds always greatly enhance your chance of Good Seats. So I got tickets for that.
The performance was at 7:00. We arrived around 6:35 to find the Centre in the Square looking eerily empty, with maybe 10 other people there at that point? So yeah, no problem getting Good Seats!
As the performance approached, fortunately, more people showed up. The crowd was still one of the smallest I’ve seen at the Centre, but at least had swelled to filled all the best seats in the house (though all the bad ones were empty).
I wasn’t terribly clear on what we were about to see, Jean even less so—he had no idea who Norman McLaren was, and had been telling people he was going to something called Daniel that night. After a short announcement, which concluded with the reminder to turn off your cell phones, the lights dimmed, all went quiet, and…
Someone’s cell phone started ringing. Couldn’t believe it!
That is, until I realized that this was part of the show. The single performer, dancer Peter Trosztmer, talked on the phone on his way to the stage, then addressed us about his obsession with Norman McLaren.
The 90 minutes that followed are really hard to describe, but were completely riveting. Peter would talk about McLaren, show parts of his films, but also interact with them in dance movements. He would dance between the intersecting lines. He would bat away the assembling and dissembling balls. He pulled away Norman’s chair in the well-known Chairy Tale, then interacted with his own. He became one of the dancers in the beautiful Pas de Deux.
I don’t know how they did it all, but it was absolutely brilliant.
Intersected with these film/dance pieces were documentary bits, in which holographic images of various people who worked with McLaren spoke about him. Also shown were some interviews with McLaren himself. It all gave me a much deeper appreciation of McLaren’s genius, particularly his skill at making music visual. It makes me want to go watch a bunch of his movies—which, fortunately, the NFB makes easy to do. (And isn’t it fabulous that staid old Canada funds a film board where an eccentric genius can spend a lifetime producing abstract short films?)
Much as I was taken with the whole thing, I wasn’t sure how Jean would react, but I needn’t have worried. Though he opined that it could perhaps have been a tad shorter, overall, he was in awe. He loved it.
So thanks to all you people who quickly snapped up the Good Mercer Seats, thus leading me to one of most intriguing live performances I’ve ever seen.
Back in Grade 3, my teacher was a nun. (Catholic school system, natch.) Over lunch, she’d play music. Some French stuff (it was also a French school). Some religious stuff. And an Elvis album.
Now, Elvis (I’ve since learned) has done a lot of gospel, but that’s not what she played. She played his rock’n’roll stuff. I didn’t find it odd at the time, but thinking back on it now, it does seem a bit odd. But it also says something about his mass appeal (pun not intended, but there it is).
Anyway, of all the music she played, this was the only bit I really cottoned to. I liked me some Elvis. I started bugging my parents to get me one of his albums. Eventually they did—one of the greatest hits things, I guess. I would play it, studiously looking over the cover art, the song list.
But not that long after, I moved on to my next musical love, the Bay City Rollers. (Eight-year-olds are so flighty.) And I never really got back to Elvis. I did and do appreciate that he’s a very influential figure in music history. I watched Jonathan Rhys in the really good Elvis miniseries, and thought that was a very poignant story. But I don’t really listen to him much, and can’t really call myself a fan.
So I had no particular expectations walking into the latest Electric Thursdays concert, Elvis: The Way It Was. But the few I had were immediately shattered when the band walked out to join the KW Symphony. Hey, where’s Peter Brennan? Where’s the Jean’s’Classics band?
Turns out that this was to be the first-ever Electric Thursdays concert to not be scored by Brennan. Instead, conductor Daniel Warren took the honours. In fact, the whole thing was his idea.
Stephen Kabakos as Elvis
The part of “Elvis” was played Stephen Kabakos. In look and sound, he was a reasonable facsimile of “The King.” But he didn’t pretend to be Elvis. He referred to himself as Stephen, and said he was just playing tribute to his favorite singer.
The show was structured according to various famous Elvis appearances: The Hawaii concert. The movies. The Ed Sullivan Show. Vegas. The comeback show in ’68 (hey, I remember that one from the Jonathan Rhys movie!). This required a certain number of costume changes, and you could definitely feel the energy drop when Kabakos wasn’t on stage. But it was fun to get kind of a “tour” of his career highlights.
The sound mix was a bit dodgy at first—we couldn’t hear the backup singers at all, and could just barely hear “Elvis”—but fortunately that was quickly resolved. I can’t really comment on the quality of the orchestration, as it really felt like it was taking a backseat to the whole Elvis show most of the time. But certainly the arrangement of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” stood out as particularly beautiful and effective.
Kabakos was in good voice, and was charismatic and funny. “Know why Elvis walked the way he did? To get the hair bounce just right,” he said, demonstrating a “normal” walk with no bounce, and the Elvis swagger, with bounce.
“Why do I always end up sitting in front of a guy?” He asked, during the “sit down at the edge of the stage and sing right into the audience” portion of “Love Me Tender”.
“The men are always dragged kicking and screaming to an Elvis show. The women are like, ‘We’re going to be late’! But guys… The suits are available for rent. Totally worth it.”
To an audience shout that he “take it off” when he commented that the leather outfit was very warm, “You have no idea how long it took to put it on!”
All in all, a fun night out, and a worthy tribute.
The KW Symphony’s latest Intersections concert, Bon appétit, was on the theme of music and food. It was one of the most enjoyable concerts I’ve ever been to.
Held at the small Conrad Centre for the Performing Arts instead of Centre in the Square, acoustics were sacrificed but intimacy was gained. It proved a good trade-off.
Principle conductor Edwin Outwater introduced the evening by outlining a fact he’d only recently learned, which is that symphonies first came together as a way of accompanying large feasts in the 15th century. Then he read some of the items served at these feasts (didn’t sound too bad), along with the instruments combined to accompany each course.
Then the Symphony played their first number, Raymond Scott’s “Dinner Music for a Pack of Hungry Cannibals.” (Not the KW Symphony, but here’s a YouTube link.) A lot of Raymond Scott’s music is used in cartoons; this was one lively and fun work.
Up next, Natalie Benninger of Nick and Nate’s Uptown 21 restaurant was introduced, as Edwin explained there would actually be food as part of this concert. (We were also allowed to bring wine to our seats.) She introduced the next piece, the lyrical “Pastorale” from the film Babette’s Feast, the soundtrack to the big meal in the film. It was lovely, but I have to admit to being distracted by the appetizer being distributed while it was being played. And to the fact that Jean and I didn’t get any. It was apparently a salad of endive and blue cheese from the film, and quite delicious. (I suppose I should add that it wasn’t only Jean and me who didn’t get any. For whatever reason, there seemed to be enough for only about half the audience.)
At some point—maybe here—we also did a video link up to Nick, toiling away back at the restaurant. In his first appearance, he talked about the type of restaurant it was, and the focus on local foods and changing menus. And then the next piece played was Shostakovich’s “Tea for Two”, a variation on that tune that he (Shostakovich, not Nick) wrote on a dare. It was a lot of fun. (Look, you can hear that one on YouTube also.)
Nick appeared again, commenting that he was more of a Rolling Stones guy than a classical music fan, but that he did appreciate this particular concert. Then he asked Edwin about food, to which Edwin expressed appreciation for Italian and Japanese cuisine, and his sense that chicken was a highly overrated food item.
The final piece of the first half was by a living Canadian composer, John Estacio. It was one movement from the Farmer’s Symphony, called “The Harvest.” It was quite grand, and was served with an appetizer of cornmeal in a honey sauce. (For everyone, this time.)
Before we broke for intermission, John from Art Bar spoke about the wine he’d been drinking during the performance, which was a red blend from Southbrook Winery, and how different characteristics of the wine came to the forefront with the different styles of music. Edwin then asked concertmaster Stephen Sitarski what music would best accompany Pinot Noir. He thought a relaxing smooth jazz, whereas a Bordeaux would require something more intellectual.
At intermission, I bought a glass of the Southbrook red. (I’m highly suggestible.) It was quite nice.
Part 2 led off with Ralph Vaughn Williams’ “March Past of the Kitchen Utensils”, which somewhat sounded as titled. The next number, which featured mezzo soprano Megan Latham, was an orchestral version of the Cole Porter tune “The Tale of the Oyster,” arranged by Edwin Outwater himself. This was a hilarious little number about an oyster who longs for the high life—and finds it on a silver platter. (YouTube) And Latham has a beautiful voice and a very expressive manner.
Nick then introduced a video of a competition between himself and Latham, as to who could make the best version of Julia Child’s Gateau au Chocolat. Quite amusing (and no winner declared). We then moved into Lee Holby’s Bon Appetit, which is an episode of Julia Child’s program, in which she makes that Gateau, set to music. You can definitely picture Child as the piece proceeds. And most happily, we didn’t have to imagine how the gateau tasted, because we all got a piece. It was one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.
And, they gave us the recipe in the concert program. I think I might try it. Heck, it’s only 6 oz butter. Practically diet food, for Julia Child.
Anyway. The last piece was a real change of pace, an adaptation of 60’s band Strawberry Alarm Clock’s “Incense and Peppermints.” Though orchestral, it was very much in tune with the psychedelic original, complete with phase-shifting vocal (in technical terms, Latham used this gizmo to make her voice echo and layer). On the last verse, Edwin joined in the singing as well. And then he thanked us for “coming out for something we’ve never done before, and that I’ve never even heard of before.”
Though the joke was that the near-capacity crowd would then all head to the 54-seat Nick and Nate’s for a nightcap, we just headed home at that point. But we were smiling all the way.
OK, so instead of owning the podium, we just rented the top floor.
I have to give a CP reporter the credit for that quote.
Wasn’t that fun? The Olympic withdrawal is going to be tough. It’s been the framing device around all events for the past two weeks. Furthermore, that’s been true of almost everyone else. What else does that anymore? Not the Oscars, not the series finale of Lost, not the Superbowl, not even the Stanley Cup.
Big eating weekend
I described last weekend (Feb. 19–21) as my “big eating weekend.” For the Friday, well ahead, we had arranged to meet up with friends at Verses. They were particularly pleased to have meat there. “We’re coming off a month of veganism,” they explained. “If you think vegetarianism is hard? Try veganism.”
Then on the following Saturday, our neighborhood association held a wine tasting dinner at Solé. Solé generally does an excellent job with these, and the featured wine was from Rosewood Estates, which we really like. So we had to sign up for that as well. We ended up sitting with the owner of the winery, who proved to be a very interesting guy, with rather strong opinions about wines of different price points, and the marketing strategies of various regions.
And it was a great meal. It started with their Sémillon, which I judged reminiscent of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, so was pleased when informed that’s what they were going for. It was delicious, as was the smoked trout served with it—amazing stuff, the food highlight of the meal. The main course was chicken with wild mushrooms, and it was served with a Meritage wine. (I was hoping to get their Pinot Noir again, but the 2007 is apparently all sold out.) Dessert featured honey wine, served with an apple caramel tart.
Olympic-wise, that was a pretty quiet weekend. That’s when there was all that grousing about Canada’s performance being somewhat disappointing, which I mostly found irritating. But since we don’t really know our neighbours (and besides the wine people, that’s who was there), it was very handy to have that to talk about.
Shall we dance?
Despite some moments of mild panic—me on the “hockey stick” step (seriously, that’s what it’s called) of the cha-cha, Jean on the intricate shaping of the slow fox—we’re fumbling our way reasonably well through our ballroom dance classes for people who had taken a seven-year break. This week’s class coincided with the Russia-Canada hockey quarter-final, but late arrivals reported on the already lopsided score involved there, and we stopped worrying about that too much.
But our dance instructor wanted to talk about another sport: ice dancing.
This was the theme of our latest Jeans’n’Classics concert: The Music of Fleetwood Mac. Our original guests had to bow out, so we attended with Camie and Frasier instead. As with the previous concert, and despite some lobbying for the new Mexican place (Margaritas), we went to Uptown21 first.
Once again, they did a great job. We all went for the day’s three-course prix fixe menu, three of us with matching wine (Camie had Shiraz). The first course of duck confit and wild mushroom was fabulous. The other option, grilled shrimp, also looked very nice. Next up was either a root-vegetable soup, which got some raves, or a salad with apple, sugared pecans, and cheddar in a balsamic vinaigrette. Very good. And the main course choices included lamb with vegetables (Jean), trout with vegetables, a vegetarian option, and something I can’t remember. But my trout was well prepared.
We also enjoyed the company. We discussed Austen (the author, not me misspelling the city), university funding, travel plans, the joys of home renovation, the Olympics, and the last time we’d listened to Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors. Though not necessarily in that order. They managed to get us out just before 7:00, and we commented that it would be nice to go again sometime and not have to rush through dinner. And maybe also try the Mexican place.
There was the usual insane number of people looking for parking when we arrived, but this time we did manage to get a spot at the Kitchener Library, which is pretty nearby. And as a bonus, their parking meter machine was broken! It was a near full house again.
The concert featured Rique Franks, Katherine Rose, and Neil Donnel on vocals. They explained that it was a new show, and it was a little rougher than usual, with some lyrics and vocal lines and song dates mixed up. But overall it was very enjoyable. Kind of a reminder of the many hits they’d had in the 80s there, all of which I knew at least by chorus, and a good selection from Rumors, which I pretty much know inside and out. I especially liked that some non-single but excellent songs from that classic album, such as “The Chain” and “Oh Daddy” were included.
The music in general was well-suited to the orchestral approach. Jean developed an insta-crush on Katherine Rose based on her husky speaking voice. And Camie noted that it was nice to have the speaking and singing duties distributed among three people.
We’ve had varying success with recent weekend activities.
Failures:
Ben Heppner, who failed to show for the Grand Philharmonic’s performance of Edgar’s The Dream of Gerontius. If you’ve never heard of this work, don’t worry; neither had we. I don’t know if having the big star there would have made a difference, but we had to conclude that we aren’t necessarily fans of all great choral works. Cause we seemed to enjoy this way less than the rest of the audience, though the quality of performance was clear.
Avatar, because it sold out before we got there. Seven weeks later and it’s still that popular, eh? Guess for next time, we’ll order our tickets online in advance.
Successes:
Up in the Air, well-attended but not difficult to get into, and quite a good movie, to boot. No 3-D extravaganza, but a clever script and compelling characters.
The Waterloo anti-prorogation rally! Yes, we went. Pleased to see a good turnout. Hadn’t been to a political protest in decades. Wasn’t sure what would happen. Mostly, we politely listened to speeches of varying quality. Found the whole thing kind of heartening.
Participated in an unofficial canoe club gathering around the Banff Mountain Film Festival. Only we skipped the Film Festival part (one grows weary of watching short films about people doing risky stuff outdoors) and just joined in on the preliminaries of a hike and dinner. Made for a good day in this surprisingly mild January we’ve just had.
Upcoming:
Sigh. Though I’m kind of grumpy about it, I feel somehow compelled to watch next Sunday’s Superbowl halftime show, to see how The Who does. I’ve actually never watched any part of the Superbowl before. Obviously I saw the Janet Jackson thing afterward on YouTube, and I’m a bit sorry now that I didn’t take the time to watch Prince’s half-time performance, but there you are. This will be a first.
So now I have to figure out things like, when is half-time, anyway? (My husband is absolutely no help in these matters.) OK, I do realize it’s a live sporting event, so the exact time halftime begins will vary, but around when will it be? Online TV guide has some pre-Superbowl thing happening from 2-6, with the game from 6-10. (And here I thought the game was actually played in the afternoon, not at night.) So am I naive to think halftime will be somewhere around 8:00, then? And they aren’t going to interview Townsend and Daltrey during the pre-Superbowl thing, are they? I really don’t want to PVR that whole thing, nor do I want to lurk in front of the TV all day.
Ah well. I suppose if I somehow miss it, I can still catch it on YouTube later…
… And that’s pretty good for me. The key, I’ve found, is trains. And given what’s currently happening at airports, more of us may be taking trains. At least take comfort in knowing it’s good for literacy.
… even though, I have to confess, two of the three books were consumed in Audible form, on my iPod. That way you can also watch the scenery. And the snow-covered trees were really pretty.
OK, the most important thing about finishing Oryx and Crake is that I’m no longer in the embarassing position of never having read a Margaret Atwood novel. Yes, I know. You’d be amazed at the great authors I’ve yet to read. Though, to be fair, I have tried reading Margaret Atwood before. I just had to give up about a third in, due to incredible lack of enjoyment. (Not even sure what book that was, anymore.)
But Oryx and Crake, I found really interesting. It’s an Apocalyptic future kind of tale, taking place in a globally warmed future where a single remaining homo sapien coexists with “Crakians”, genetically engineered humans who lack humans’ more destructive impulses. A lot of the realities of the book—the bizarrely genetically engineered animal hybrids, the smart technologists locked away in compounds away from the “plebe-lands”, the reliance on medicine to treat everything—seemed somewhat plausible, only a little beyond what is actually going on.
So it was an unpleasant yet somewhat familiar world, and it was fairly engrossing uncovering the mystery of what led to this point.
I had seen and enjoyed the movie, so I got curious about the book, which I did actually read, and without the benefit of train motion. Julie Powell had a blog that covered her efforts to make all 524 recipes in Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking, in one year. Though a personal strain (these are not easy recipes), the blog became very popular—ultimately becoming a book, then a movie (obviously).
Watching the movie, I somewhat related to Julie. She and I both like to write about food, for example. She and and I both cook from written recipes (as opposed to just whipping up your own thing, which is a whole other talent). She and I are both in a long-term, childfree marriages to really sweet guys.
And reading the book, I found even more similarities. Like—I kid you not—her total obsession with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. One of the most dire crises of the book is when CBS wants to interview her on the night of the very last Buffy ever!
So part of my brain thinks, geez, why didn’t I think of blogging about making all of Julia Child’s recipes in a year so that I could get a book deal, and a movie deal, and get to write another book?
But then I’m reminded that there are some key differences between Julie and me.
She’s much more open than I about writing about personal, embarrassing stuff, for example. And that is a big part of the charm and appeal of the endeavour, which made it a success.
There’s also the fact that she was really dissatisfied with her secretarial job, and her difficulties in getting pregnant, both necessary fuel for taking on and maintain this crazy project of hers. (Along with occasionally copious amounts of alcohol, cigarettes, and expletives.) Me, I don’t have quite enough angst to take on making boeuf bourgignon until 2:00 in the morning, sustained only by nicotine and rum.
And most particularly… Frankly, I would never do classic French cooking. Reading the book, even more than seeing the movie, made me realize I have no interest in this type of arduous cooking: Digging out bone marrow, making gelatin from a calve’s hoof (seriously! apparently smells like a tannery), chopping up a live lobster (all the parts squirm, it appears), boning an entire duck.
This was the return trip audiobook. I had downloaded Fahrenheit 451 as well, but that was starting to seem like a little too much apocalypse for one trip, so I dug around and stumbled upon this one, the first Sookie Stackhouse mystery. OK, vampire mystery. But the vampires are still incidental, even though I realize this is the second time they’ve been mentioned in this post.
And also, that all three books are from a single individual’s point of view.
Anyway. In this case, the point of view is Sookie Stackhouse’s, a telepathic bar waitress in a world where vampires exist and have just attained legal status. Sookie meets Bill, a vampire who sets her small Southern town a-twitter by deigning to live in it. She’s intrigued because she cannot read his mind; this comes as a major relief. But their path to true romance hits stumbling blocks in the form of the murder of women who have a sweet spot for vampires.
Jean declared this too much of a chick book for him, though not too much for him to listen from start to finish.
I found it diverting enough, but I’m not sure I’m compelled to read any more of these. Sounds a bit weird to say given that the main characters are a vampire and mind reader, but there were more supernatural elements introduced later in the novel than I wanted. Made it a bit harder to believe in the world. Sookie was a fun character, it had some nice sexy bits, and I was curious about the murderer’s identify. But it’s not something I’d say you’d have to go out of your way to read.
(In case anyone was wondering, I haven’t yet seen True Blood, which is apparently based on, but very different from, these novels.)
The day after the concert began with breakfast at the Day’s Inn, which turned out to be rather better than these continental hotel breakfasts usually are, thanks to the available waffle batter and waffle iron. They did run out of coffee, but we were able to save that one by making a pot in our room afterward.
After checking out, and getting the word of mouth that general notices on the concert were good, we headed to the hottest spot in Ontario—the Flu Clinic! Seriously, we decided to go see if Orillia flu clinics were being run any better than Waterloo Region ones. And boy, were they ever. Very short lineup, everyone in it quickly assessed as to whether they qualified (Jean did, as a healthcare worker; I didn’t even try—I do have some morals) and given a time to expect their shot. In our case it was so soon, and the weather was so fine, we just stayed in line until it was done. The whole thing, including the 15-minute after-shot wait, took half an hour, 40 minutes, maybe.
Oh, and Jean had no after-effects from the shot, other than the expected sore shoulder muscle.
After that triumph, we headed to downtown Orillia to see what might be interesting there. We spent some time in a kitchen store (weirdly, perhaps, Jean likes kitchen gadgets as much as I do—maybe even more), and got ourselves a few things, and some Christmas stuff. We also traded casino concert stories with the owner, who had apparently seen a very awesome Santana show there. (Actually, it did sound great.)
Next was a clothing store that had some used, some consignment, some remainder items. So really great prices, and stuff for both men and women. Jean tried on this leather jacket that fit him really well. And this almost never happens—he’s just not an “off the rack” size. So at $19.99, that was pretty hard to resist, so we didn’t. He also got a leather belt, while I picked up three tops. The grand total was under $60.
It was around lunchtime at this point, and we were hungry, so we decided to go to the “restaurant in a train” place that we’d been to on our last visit to Orillia (to buy the tickets). We had the same waitress! It was an enjoyable enough meal. In particular, my scallop appetizer, in chili and cocoa, was quite nice, and Jean enjoyed his main of lake trout (or some local-ish fish like that).
We now figured it was a reasonable enough time to head toward Singhampton, where we had bed and breakfast and dinner reservations. The drive was just fine, and we had spotted the B&B on the way up, so no trouble finding it. It’s called the Avalon, and while not the cheapest B&B ever, it’s really nice accommodations. You get a whole downstairs (not basement) area to yourself, with huge windows onto a beautiful view. The owner also toured us around most of the rest of the 5000 square foot house, all very open and festooned with stained glass. And interestingly, it uses geothermal heat (and cooling).
The grounds are also huge, and we took a little walk around those next, and got some photos (as above). Then it was nap time, as neither of us had slept that well the night before. Then up to get ready for dinner at Haisai.
This would be Michael Stadtlander’s new, cheaper (though certainly not cheap) restaurant. And the room is very characteristic of him and his wife Noboyu, with a crazy festooning of pottery and all natural wood furniture. Noboyu recognized us from our stop in August and generally made us feel comfortable. We were a bit surprised to see that the restaurant was not sold out on this Friday; it was maybe two-thirds full. And they were having fireplace issues, so it was a little cool in there.
But, everyone wants to know about the food right? It was a 10-course tasting menu. I made a point of writing down what we had that night.
Single New Brunswick oyster—I forget how seasoned. But very nice.
Smoked hock (from their farm, smoked for six months) on whole-wheat bread made there. The meat had really lovely taste and texture not quite like any other “ham” kind of thing I’ve had before. (And I do mean that in a good way.)
Jerusalem artichoke soup with shallots and smoked pickerel. This man is really a soup genius; I couldn’t believe the creamy, wonderful taste and the contrast with the shallots. You almost didn’t need the fish.
Georgian Bay lake trout (caught that day) in wasabi butter with blue potatoes. Definitely a highlight, the fish was meltingly good, and the sauce was so amazing, it was difficult not to lick the plate after. And the potatoes tasted pretty remarkable, too.
White fish on a sauce of beet, chervil, and carrot, with spinach puree. Also a great combination of flavors.
Salmonberry (or maybe some other kind of berry?) sorbet on wild apple. He’s also quite good with the sorbet.
Roast piglet with wild mushrooms and cabbage. The meat was mouth-watering. Mmm, fat. Of course the mushrooms were good, but the cabbage also tasted just amazing. Because, I think, it was cooked in the mmm, fat.
Duck breast with roasted carrot, squash, turnip, parsnip, and a squash ravioli. The most interesting thing here is that the duck, while good, was actually the least of this plate. These vegetables tasted amazing.
Three kinds of Ontario cheese—goat, sheep, and gouda—served with pear and walnut cranberry bread. Ontario, it turns out, also makes good cheese.
Tarte tatin with rum ice cream.
The new restaurant has a wine list, all Ontario. We enjoyed our first five courses with a lively Frog Pond Riesling, then switched to a glass each of Stratus Red. That’s an expensive wine, but it did taste fantastic. We have a bottle here, and now I’m dying to open it. With dessert, we had Earl Grey and mint tea, both well above average.
We came in quite hungry, and ended feeling satisfied but not stuffed, which is perfect. And we slept really well that night.
Onto Saturday now, which began with the breakfast part of the B&B. While we’d met the wife more the day before, today it was the husband who sat and talked with us while we ate our apple starter, delicious coffee, fresh baguette, and frittata. He was quite an interesting guy. He told us about how they’d ended up moving from Toronto to this location, the whole process of designing and building the house extension, the mechanics of geothermal.
They made Creemore sound like an interesting little town, so we decided to head there after checking out. And it is pretty cute. We spent some time in a bookstore, and I wanted many things, but decided I really needed to catch up on my reading first. At an antique store, we bought new stools for our breakfast bar—not antiques, those, they were new. They do look a bit snazzier. (Can’t say we’re not doing our bit for the Ontario economy.) And at the 100-mile shop, we bought a bunch of Ontario cheese, including some we’d had the night before. Fifth Town Cheese Company from Prince Edward County—try them out.
Then we headed home, so you might think this travel diary is done, but no… We decided to keep it going.
That night, we ate out at Art Bar. Once again, the food was quite good, holding up surprisingly well to our recent experience at Haisai. But once again, we seemed to be left fairly close to curtain time. I still don’t understand why they have such trouble getting us out in two hours. But anyway…
We had tickets to Cirque de la symphonie, which was the KW Symphony playing various pieces while, during most of them, circus performers did their thing. This was riveting! I couldn’t believe how fast the two hours (or so) went by. Particularly notable was this beautiful trapeze artist who did a really spectacular set on a rope in the second half. And then there was the gorgeous man who did this act with a big square (I find this stuff hard to explain) in the first half, then, shirtless, did this Icarus act in the second, jumping and flying around with a white sheet flapping behind him.
And the finale were these two guys, all in gold, one of whom can balance on the other and get into the most amazing poses. OK, my whole description of these performances sucks, but trust me, they were wonderful to see. (And thankfully, the Centre was very full for this show.)
Anyway. We both ended up very satisfied with this little November getaway. And Jean also had a great paddle (canoeing) on Sunday. It was a beautiful day, wasn’t it?
I wanted to start by explaining why I’m doing this.
First of all, it’s just to get off my ass. Because singers with a fat ass… You don’t want that.
Secondly, it’s to keep the vocal chords lubricated. But it’s not like a guitar—you can’t just add new strings.
Finally, I just want everybody to have a bloody good time!
— Roger Daltrey, 5 November 2009 (quote probably not exact, but you get the gist…)
Neurotic
I’ve given up trying to figure out exactly what it is about Roger Daltrey, but let’s just say, I was really looking forward to this concert. Wanting anything that I can’t 100% control always feel a bit dangerous to me, and my mind skittered over all the possible occurrences that could prevent me from attending (weather, illness, death, fire), until it seemed almost almost miraculous that I’d ever gotten myself to any concert anywhere.
In the weeks leading up, H1N1 became the main focus of my fretting, and the difficulty of accessing the vaccine led me to shielding myself (and Jean) with an elixer of hand sanitizer and vitamin D, hoping that would keep the virus at bay.
I’d also been following the tour virtually since it began in late October. The digital age has changed everything, hasn’t it? After each show there were not only written concert reports but lots of photos and quite a bit of video. And reports were generally rapturous, until… the Cleveland show.
Chicago, by all accounts, had been a huge triumph. Cleveland was the next day, 2 days before the Orillia concert (with a day of rest in between). And in Cleveland, his voice gave out. And he had to cut the show short.
This was so not what I was hoping to read before my show. And if I’d been operating on fairly low-level neurosis before, it now kicked into high gear. Having managed to keep both Jean and I free of not only flu but also colds and food poisoning and any other ailment that could possibly keep us bedridden, I was now gripped with the fear that laryngitis would force a cancellation of the Orillia show.
“You should have been sending Roger Daltrey the hand sanitizer and vitamin D,” Jean pointed out.
Getting there
The night before the concert, there was no cancellation notice on the Casinorama website, and then I decided, I didn’t want any more news. From anywhere. Since I had to work the first part of the day, and since I have to use the web to do my work, that was trickier than you might think, but I managed.
We got away at exactly the time we’d hoped to (3:00) and although it was a fairly wacky weather day, switching rapidly from sun to rain to hail to light snow and back, the drive went really well. At our check-in at the Day’s Inn, just down the road from the Casino, it was clear that the concert still wasn’t cancelled. It finally felt safe to just get giddy about the whole thing.
The venue
When I would mention this event to people, the reaction would either be, “Who’s Roger Daltrey?” (and it’s very difficult to resist the temptation to just say, “Yes, that’s right” to that comment), or the comment that it was a bit sad he was playing a Casino.
I’m not going to comment on that aspect, but this is was playing a Casino (versus the smaller music clubs he was otherwise performing at on this tour) meant:
No Meet’n’Greet, first of all. At every venue on this tour (including some of the other casinos, actually), you had the option of buying very expensive tickets that gave you both good seats and a pre-concert meeting with Roger Daltrey. And from reading reports of these short encounters, he’s apparently very sweet, very generous about ignoring the “he will only sign one thing” rule, smells great, and is smaller (shorter, thinner) than you’d think.
Cheaper ticket prices. I don’t know the economics of these things; I just know that Orillia was one of the cheapest stops on this tour.
On-site amenities. Ten restaurants on site. While these may not be the best restaurants ever, some are pretty good, certainly better than anything on offer at a hockey arena. And an attached hotel, although because Roger Daltrey was staying there, room prices were jacked up to $450. And up. (Maybe they think rich people won’t bother him.)
No tour merchandise. Normally I don’t give a flying flip about overpriced tour merchandise, but this time, I did want the damn T-shirt. Now I’ll have to order it online and pay shipping. Which is sort of irritating.
No opening act. I don’t know if that’s a general rule at Casinos, or just because his opening act on this tour are apparently only 18-years-old, and therefore not allowed into an Ontario casino, but there was no opening act. As I hadn’t heard anything too incredibly wonderful about them, I wasn’t too sad about that.
No teenagers. You have to be 19 to attend concerts at Casinorama. And since The Who still has a surprising number of teenage fans, it’s too bad their youthful presence and energy was absent.
It apparently wasn’t a sold out show, but let me tell you, it had to be pretty close to that. (The venue holds 5000.) That was a big crowd. Age skewing toward baby boomer, I’d say.
The announcement that photography was strictly forbidden was not enforced and was completely ignored by everyone.
Our seats
Our seats were excellent, at least in terms of sight lines. We were in the seventh row, very close to the center, so pretty much in line with the lead guitarist. The stage was raised enough that you could see over the heads of tall people. There were large screens on either of the stage, but we didn’t really need them. What was less excellent (per Jean) was that the seats weren’t the most comfortable ever, and they were packed pretty closely together.
But one other aspect of casino shows that I discovered is that those of us in the good seats are allowed to go stand in front of the stage, if we want. I hadn’t realized that we were allowed to do that, though, until I saw a bunch of other people doing it. “I want to go stand there,” I told Jean (who’d previously told me if I “rushed the stage”, he was leaving). “You go,” he said. “I’ll watch your stuff.”
So after the opening number (“Who Are You”), I did. And there I stayed. Right up close to Roger Daltrey.
The voice
So how was his voice, after all that? Well, not so hot, really. Pretty hoarse. Actually, I can let him tell you:
The thing is, I barely noticed that. I was actually sort of stunned, afterward, listening to the video Jean that had taken, to hear how hoarse he was actually was. It just didn’t sound that way to me at the time.
I can point out that it became clear pretty fast that standing right up close to the stage does not give the best auditory experience of the event. For example, I was still pretty much right front of the lead guitarist, most of the night, and where from my seat the guitar just blended in with everything else, from closer up it sometimes drowned out other instruments, like the harmonica.
I could certainly hear Daltrey sing, though. But it’s like I couldn’t really assess the quality of what I was hearing.
Or, quite possibly, I was just too excited to be seeing him up close to care what he sounded like.
At any rate, the voice also forced the show into being a little shorter than it usually is, with Jean and I both sort of stunned when they were wrapping it up. Which of course was a little disappointing, but if the worst you can say about a show is that you wished it had been longer, that’s pretty good.
The set list
I made no effort to retain exactly what was played in what order, but it certainly was mostly Who, with just a side order of Daltrey solo. And of course, some of the big hits were done: a very exciting “Who Are You” to start; great harmonies on “I Can See for Miles”; a very fun “Squeezebox,” albeit without the hip thrusting that apparently accompanied the “In and out” chorus back in the day; and a truly rousing “Baba O’Riley”, featuring full shirt opening and the night’s only incidence of microphone swinging.
As I knew would be the case, there was no “Won’t Get Fooled Again” (great song, but I’m actually kind of sick of it anyway), nothing from Tommy (the girl in front of me who kept piping up “Pinball Wizard” all night obviously didn’t get that memo), nothing from Quadrophenia. He explained that they’d tried to drop “Behind Blue Eyes” as well, but the protesting there was too great. So instead, they’d rearranged it, and presented that version. It reminded me of the way he’d done in it in his wonderful 1994 Daltrey Sings Townsend concerts, with the “When my fist clenches, crack it open” part rendered nearly a capella:
I was surprised to hear “My Generation,” but this was the “My Generation Blues” version (as featured on the Maximum R&B video), and it segued, through another song that I forget, into a fantastic version of “Young Man’s Blues”—giving one to ponder on how the once young and hungry Daltrey is now transformed into “the old man—who has all the money.” Nothing accidental about that song choice.
But another thing he wanted to do on this tour was bring out some of the more neglected songs in The Who’s canon—like “Pictures of Lily,” which had been dropped along with Entwistle’s vocal range; “Going Mobile”, sung by Simon Townsend (yep, Pete’s little brother, who does sound very much like Pete); and one of my personal favorites, “Tatoo.” They also indulged a request for “The Kids Are Alright,” despite Townsend commenting that it might have been better if the band had learned the song first, and some debate about what key it was actually in. Keeping in mind the wonky state of my brain and hearing that day, the song really sounded great to me.
From the solo oeuvre we got a couple of very fun numbers from his quite good Rocks in the Head album: “Walk on Water,” dedicated to President Obama (“Those Americans don’t know what they want, do they? First they love him, and now… I mean, give him a chance!”), and “Days of Light,” which he explained harkened back to his days as a sheetmetal worker, a pretty crap job that made the weekends all the sweeter: the “Days of Light.” And a couple numbers I didn’t know, but still enjoyed.
As the set list hasn’t exactly been fixed on this tour, I don’t really know what numbers normally performed were left out in the abbreviated set. I think “Naked Eye” has made a number of appearances, and we didn’t get that. Nor did “Boris the Spider,” which would have been cool to hear him do. And he has done the beautiful “Without Your Love” a few times, but I suspect that one would have been beyond him this night.
Except for the afore-mentioned Simon Townsend, I don’t think anyone in his band is well-known. But they did do lovely vocal harmonies and quite a credible job of re-creating the Who sound. There was a drummer, a bass player, and a keyboard player. To my surprise, Townsend didn’t play lead guitar, but accoustic. As well as handling all the Pete vocal parts in the songs. The dude I was standing in front of most of the night, apparently recently named band musical director, ably handled the lead guitar parts.
It should be noted that Daltrey also played guitar on a lot of numbers, as well tambourine and harmonica. And ukelele.
The glitches reported on some earlier tour dates were not in evidence this night. No forgotten lyrics. There was only one request for monitor adjustment: “It sounds all horrible and basey. Or maybe that’s my voice.” (Someday I’ll have to find out just what a monitor is.) No complaints about excessive cool, drying air (it was hot in there). No giving up on songs partway through. He did seem to have to keep readjusting his earpiece; that’s about it.
The man
Let’s get the shallow stuff out of the way first: up close and in person, Roger Daltrey looks really damn good. He’s growing the hair out a bit (and there’s certainly still a lot of that), he seems to have dyed it blonde again, he’s tanned, he’s fit and muscular, his face still unremarkably unwrinkled. I’m about ready to drop the “for his age” qualifier from the “he looks really good” comment. (He’s 65.)
And, he seems to be having a great time on this tour. I have recordings of his 1985 and 1994 solo tours, and a lot of DVDs and recordings of Who tours over the years, and I have never heard him be as verbose on stage as he has been on this one. He was funny and charming and entertaining… yeah, kind of sexy.
In introducing “Tatoo”, for example, he explained that he wanted to do this song because it illustrated how much had changed, culturally, since the era in which it was written (1967). Back then, he said, only men got tatoos, and only a certain kind of man at that—a criminal sort, really, that he’d decided he didn’t want to be, and therefore remains untatooed to this day. (The song, by the way, is all about the singer and his brother deciding to get tatoos as a mark of their manhood.)
But now, Daltrey continued, it’s women who get all the tatoos. “And they get them in these places… That you couldn’t imagine you’d want a tatoo…”
Later, he talked about working with The Chieftains, and convincing them to do a Who song in return for his singing a couple of their songs. Their version of “Behind Blue Eyes” got picked up by radio and led to the album being a great success and them winning a Grammey.
“But I didn’t get a Grammy,” Daltrey complained. “I wanted one, too! By the time I finally get one, they’ll be called the Grannies.” (Now doesn’t the fact that The Who have never won a Grammy just make you think that there’s something terribly wrong with the Grammy’s?)
And after “Baba O’Riley,” he explained how he didn’t do encores. “We never did them in the Seventies,” he said. (And agreed that “smashing all your gear” was a good way to avoid them.) “But if we had, I could have used that 10 minutes to have some fun. But what good is 10 minutes to me now? That’s bloody useless. Now I need a whole evening! Sometimes two!”
My favorite part
Standing in the “pit” was generally a congenial experience, but there was one guy who kind of getting on my nerves. It was a little bit that he was just standing there instead of joining in on the singalongs and clapping, a little bit that his height occasionally interfered with my sightline, but it was mainly that as a people got tired of standing and moved back to their seats, he didn’t move over closer to Roger. Instead, he just left space there. And because he was beside me, that meant that I couldn’t move over closer to Roger.
Until finally… For the last three songs, he did get out of my way. Now I was more in between Roger and the lead guitarist instead of just in front of the guitarist.
Then Roger started in on his Johnny Cash medley (much to the delight of some dude behind me who’d been asking for “Johnny Cash” all evening, only to get weird looks from everyone around him). He explained that he was kind of worried about attempting these with his wonky voice, and that he might have to stop if it seemed too brutal. But he did want to pay tribute to this great singer.
And then he looked at me. I mean, right at me. And he smiled. And of course I just beamed back at him.
Then he said that if he got through it, the last number would be “Ring of Fire”, and he’d split the audience into men and women. And he’d have the women sing the chorus on their own, “because that’s really sexy.” And then the men would sing on their own. And finally we’d all sing along together.
So he did get through them (and sorry, I’m not enough of a Johnny Cash fan to know what songs he did), and he got to “Ring of Fire”, and he said, “Now all the women,” and he looked right at me again, through the whole chorus. And know what? It’s both intoxicating and intimidating to be singing about your “burning ring of fire going down down down and the flame getting higher” while Roger Daltrey is looking at you.
“Blue, Red and Grey” is this lovely little ballad on The Who’s underrated Who By Numbers album. Pete sings it, and Roger said he’d tried for years to get Pete to do this song in concert, but Pete refused, feeling he’d look like completely idiotic standing there with his ukelele.
Whereupon Roger, now alone on the stage, posed with his ukelele.
Even when in good voice, this one is challenge for Roger to sing—it’s in his upper range, it requires you to go from low to high notes in a beat. But I know he’s been performing it all tour and I’m delighted he attempted for us as well.
It was certainly a struggle for him. As his voice broke on the upper part of the second verse, he commented, “Makes it rather poignant, doesn’t it?” “You sound wonderful, Roger” somebody shouted, and as he did a fairly credible job on the last verse, the applause was very warm.
While we didn’t spend a lot of time talking to other people there—we aren’t very good at that—from what I overheard, it wasn’t just me who really enjoyed this concert. (Jean said it “wasn’t completely awful.” That’s actually pretty good, from Jean.)
So as to goals of this tour:
Fat ass avoidance—check!
Voice exercised—check! (I’ll trust this particular workout won’t have done any lasting damage.)
Having a bloody great time—check and check!
“He made me who I am. I owe him a lot and I love him.” — Pete Townsend on Roger Daltrey
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