I didn’t getTwitter for a long time. I’d go there and not really see the point. In practical terms, I didn’t really understand how anything of value could be provided in 140 characters. And there was all that talk of people just tweeting about what they had for breakfast.
Now, though, I’m addicted.
I initially signed on based on a friend’s advice to do so just to get a good Twitter-name, even if I didn’t do much with it right away. Turned out she had a point; most variations of my name and my most commonly used web pseudonyms were already in use by others. But I did find an available combination.
Twitter has a bit of learning curve to it. I started by just following a small number of people and trying to figure it out from there. I soon learned that a lot of power is in the link; sure, you can’t say that much in 140 characters, but you can link to those details. (And to photos. And to videos.)
But when I’m say addicted, it’s not to tweeting itself, which I remain a little gun-shy about. (Apparently I have tweeted 28 times in total.) In fact, I’m still not completely clear on who sees what when it comes replies, direct replies, direct messages, retweets, private message… ? All in all, it’s easier to just listen, most of the time.
Currently I follow 59 accounts, some of whom haven’t tweeted in two years, some of whom tweet so frequently, I don’t know how they stay employed.
Among my favorites are the following.
@Elizabeth May: A lot of the politicians I follow tweet mostly dull platitudes, toeing the party line. Elizabeth May (federal leader of the Green Party, but you knew that) tweets more like a real person would. I particularly enjoy her tweets from Parliament Hill, which give insight into things that wouldn’t necessarily make the media:
I had planned to make a statement marking Remembrance Day. I am shocked the CPC has blocked my chance to speak.
They didn’t like the point I was making. 40 years 1913-1956 closure used 10x; in last 40 days, 7x
Conservatives keep limiting debate. They have the votes. Not sure why everything has to be forced thru.
Ban asbestos motion. First vote to keep asbestos trade, our PM.
John McCallum asked Tony Clement about an answer by tweet! Twitter seems to be Clement’s only forum 4 G8 $ Q’s. Baird takes all Qs in QP.
Though must say it’s not exactly improving my opinion of the Conservative Party of Canada.
@simont400000: He being Simon Townshend, the much younger brother of one Pete Townshend, and who also tours with Roger Daltrey. Been kind of fun “following” him on tour:
Great show in Vancouver. Smokin’ crowd! Two shows left on tour and the TCT charity gig in LA. Come along… 2.5k a ticket. Rock n’ Roll!
And his random tweets are also kind of funny:
@Kimmittable: I’m a real fan of your earlier work.” I said that to Joni Mitchell once and she told me to Fuck off. True!
And if you’re wondering what it’s like to not be famous yourself (though he is himself quite a talented composer and musician), but hanging with the very famous:
Getting home from tour is strange… no daily sheet, no room service, no living from suitcase or doing laundry – no gigs. Not being a pop star
@dizzyfeet: This being the moniker of Nigel Lithgow, producer of American Idol and judge on So You Think You Can Dance. It’s in the latter capacity that I’m interested, but I don’t follow anyone else connected with that show. Nigel’s feed is just hilarious as he so frequently engages in public battles with those who reply to this tweets. There’s a whole “Moron” meme running through his feed that you’d have to read back on to completely understand.
RT @Clamanity: @izzyfeet Emmy voters are morons. [I KNOW. I’VE BEEN HANDING OUT #MORON NUMBERS ALL NIGHT. HA, HA!]
He’s also satisfyingly blunt (not mean) in posting his opinion. He’s recently been listed on “Recommend people to follow on Twitter”, so I’m not the only one to notice the fun to be had here. His response:
Welcome to all my new followers. Thank you#NewYorkPost I felt truly proud. Bring on the#Morons.
But her feed covers a great deal more than the goings-on at Waterloo City Hall. She comments on Waterloo news in general, federal and provincial politics, food, family… An eclectic mix that very often seems to jibe with my own interests.
And I’ll leave the last tweet to her.
Oh Twitter, you are such a procrastination-enabler.
Not sure why, as Halloween’s not a big thing for me, but got a yen to put this together. Not claiming these are the ultimate Halloween songs—just which of my songs are most “Halloween-y”. (And I wasn’t aiming for 50 songs. That’s just where it landed.)
Angel Main Theme (the Sanctuary Extended Remix) – Darling Violetta – Live Fast, Die Never (Music from the TV Series)
Another World – Joe Jackson – Night And Day
Ballad for Dead Friends – Dashboard Prophets – Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Radio Sunnydale (Music from the TV Series)
Bat Out Of Hell – Meat Loaf – Bat Out of Hell
Beware Of Darkness – George Harrison – All Things Must Pass
Boris The Spider – The Who – Meaty Beaty Big And Bouncy
Brain Damage – Pink Floyd – Dark Side of the Moon
Buffy Main Title Theme – The Breeders – Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Radio Sunnydale (Music from the TV Series)
Clap For The Wolfman – The Guess Who – The Greatest Of The Guess Who
Comfortably Numb – Pink Floyd – Pink Floyd The Wall
Cry, Little Sister (Theme From The Lost Boys) – Gerard McMann – The Lost Boys
Dangerous – The Who – It’s Hard
The Devil You Know (God Is A Man) – Face To Face – Buffy The Vampire Slayer: The Album
Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me – Roger Daltrey – The Lost Boys
[A darker—and, I think, better—take on the Elton John song]
Down in the Park – Foo Fighters – Songs in the Key of X: Music from and Inspired by ‘the X-Files’
End Of The Night – The Doors – The Doors
Funhouse – P!nk – Greatest Hits…So Far!!!
Ghost Story – Sting – Brand New Day
Ghost Train – Elvis Costello & The Attractions – Get Happy!!
Keep Myself Awake – Black Lab – Buffy The Vampire Slayer: The Album
Lost In The Shadows – Lou Gramm – The Lost Boys
Moonlight Drive – The Doors – Strange Days
On the Run – Pink Floyd – Dark Side of the Moon
People Are Strange – Echo & The Bunnymen – The Lost Boys
[The original Doors version would also do. This cover isn’t much different.]
Phobia – The Kinks – Phobia
Rest In Peace – James Marsters – Once More, With Feeling (Buffy The Vampire Slayer)
Rhiannon – Fleetwood Mac – Greatest Hits
[Though Rhiannon isn’t a very scary witch]
Science Fiction/Double Feature – Richard O’Brien – Rocky Horror Picture Show
Showdown At Big Sky – Robbie Robertson – Robbie Robertson
Something’s Gonna Die Tonight – The Doughboys – Tribute to Hard Core Logo
Spooky Girlfriend – Elvis Costello – When I Was Cruel
Sympathy for the Devil – The Rolling Stones – Beggars Banquet
Tear Off Your Own Head (It’s A Doll Revolution) – Elvis Costello – When I Was Cruel
Thriller / Heads Will Roll – Glee Cast – Single
[I don’t have the Michael Jackson original, but I do like this mash-up]
The Time Warp – Rocky Horror cast – Rocky Horror Picture Show
Transylvania Concubine – Rasputina – Buffy The Vampire Slayer: The Album
Under a Raging Moon – Roger Daltrey – Under a Raging Moon
Under Your Spell / Standing (Reprise) – Amber Benson and Anthony Stewart Head – Once More, With Feeling (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)
Unmarked Helicopters – Soul Coughing – The X-Files: Songs In The Key Of X
Werewolves of London – Warren Zevon – Excitable Boy
[A recent acquisition. Ah-oo! Werewolves of London]
Wicked Annabella – Dave Davies – Rock Bottom Live At The Bottom Line
[So good I’ve included it twice.]
Wicked Annabella – The Kinks – The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society
[One list I saw had Apeman by The Kinks as a Halloween song. What? Nothing Halloween-y about Apeman at all. This one, though, is about a scary witch who snatches away naughty children who refuse to go to sleep. Clearly composed by an exhausted parent.]
Witches’ Song – Marianne Faithfull – Broken English
X-Files Theme – Mark Snow – Songs in the Key of X: Music from and Inspired by ‘the X-Files’
X Files Theme (Remix) – P.M. Dawn – The X-Files: Songs In The Key Of X
You Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth (Hot Summer Night) – Meat Loaf – Bat Out of Hell
[“On a hot summer’s night, will you give your throat to the wolf with the red roses?”]
It was a long piece, but I knew if we could get to the “Listening to You” chorus, we’d be all right. We’d have them.
—Pete Townshend on performing Tommy
The raison d’être for Roger Daltrey’s latest tour—apart from his continued desire to keep performing for as long as he possibly can—is to present the Tommy album live in a way The Who never did: Playing the entire thing, in order, with the full complement of harmonies and keyboards and everything included on that iconic album.
Witnessing this Friday night, it became clear that there are a few problems with that approach. The original album is sequenced a bit weirdly, both story-wise and musically. And even with the dropping long, instrumental “Underture”, it’s quite long. So while you would certainly build and gain momentum through some sequences: 1921, Amazing Journey, Sparks, Christmas… Or particularly, Pinball Wizard, Tommy Can You Hear Me, Smash the Mirror… Momentum would then somewhat be lost by the necessity of then performing a lesser track like Sensation or Sally Simpson.
(“Is this still Tommy?” Jean asked, about three-quarters of the way through.)
That said, there was still plenty to enjoy about the live performance of this opera, and it wasn’t all the expected stuff. Like, for example, seeing Roger Daltrey, for the first time (that I know of) taking on the villain’s roles in “Cousin Kevin” and “Fiddle About”. He seemed to really relish those two roles (maybe nice to finally not be the in Tommy/victim role), and sank his acting chops into the interpretation. I can honestly say I’ve never enjoyed either of those songs more.
30 years after being under Cousin Kevin’s boot, Daltrey finally gets to turn the table
Another surprise was just how enjoyable the silly little “Tommy’s Holiday Camp” song was—possibly because it is perhaps the only giddy moment in this rather grim little opera. It was totally fun.
And the songs you expected to be great… Really were great. Last time I saw Roger in concert, the microphone twirling was very limited and approached rather gingerly. But clearly the old man’s been practicing, because it was whipping around like nobody’s business during “Pinball Wizard” and the finale. It was impressive. See:
And speaking of that finale… I’ve seen many videotaped versions of The Who leading the crowd toward what seems an almost religious experience after Roger Daltrey sings the “See Me / Feel Me” chorus for the last time, and then everyone joins in on the “Listening to you / I get the music” chorus. But I’d never participated in that. And this crowd was fantastic. The second that moment came around, everyone was on their feet, rushing the stage, pumping their fists, singing along… It looked, sounded, and felt amazing. The ovation at the end was huge. Daltrey appeared really touched by it.
But how was the voice?
Last time I’d heard Daltrey perform, two years ago, the voice was not good. He’d even had to cancel some performances. So I felt grateful to have seen him perform at all. But that whole show, he was singing through a thick, nearly hoarse, rasp.
It was much, much better this time out. This isn’t to say it was perfect. Despite the humidifier going, the water, the tea, the strictly enforced smoking ban in theatre, the voice did crack on some of the high notes—for example, on the See Me / Feel Me part of “Christmas”. But it sounded beautiful on others — for example, on the See Me / Feel Part of “We’re Not Going to Take It”. And in the lower ranges, there were no issues at all.
(By the way, entire tour performances available from http://www.livedownloads.com/. I hear can now confirm that the Altanta show was particularly good – no voice cracking. )
The concert, Part 2
The second half of the show featured a variety of songs among the now rather large catalog Roger and his band have rehearsed. And where the Tommy had some unavoidable lulls, the second half was nothing but highlights, including (but not limited to):
A bluesy version of “My Generation”
A lovely take on my favorite Who song, “Behind Blue Eyes”
The Simon Townshend spotlight song, “Going Mobile”
An incendiary version of “Young Man’s Blues” (which Roger seems to love the irony of singing, now that he is the old man with all the money), complete with some highly showy microphone twirling, and integrations of the relatively rare Who track called “Water”.
Also fun was his solo track, “Days of Light”. And on “Baba O’Riley”, when he unbuttoned his shirt all the way (as the Toronto Sun’s [female] writer said, “it was an impressive display.” It’s not normal to get even more fit and muscular as you age, is it?), raised his arm, and his full head of hair was backlit, you were definitely reminded that this was the iconic rock God of the seventies, right there, right now, still.
Still a rock god
We want to be on stage, but we don’t want to be on a pedestal. We’re like you. I’m like you. That’s what this song says to me.
— Roger Daltrey, Toronto, September 30, 2011
Since I knew that the playlist for the second half varied from night to night, I was trying not to get my hopes up about any particular song being performed. But in truth, there is one I really wanted to hear: “Without Your Love”. [Because I’m a sap!] I was not to be disappointed on that front. He did a lovely job with it.
After that, he explained that they had a strict time limit for this particular performance, and performed one last song, the lovely “Red Blue and Grey”. I was feeling slightly miffed at apparently getting a shortened show, but you know, the thing started before 8:00 (with a quite good opening act), Roger and band took the stage somewhere between 8:30 and 8:45, and it was nearly 11:00 when it was over. No breaks.
I supposed 2-2.5 hours is a reasonable length of concert for a 67-year-old man who just had throat surgery.
Our seats
Though I tried not to fret overly much before attending this concert, one thing I did wonder about a bit was just how good our seats were, really. Turns out, they were really very good. We were in the fifth row, and though not right in the center, you could see everything really well. The only problem, really, is that is not very good seats for taking pictures and video. There was always a light right behind Roger’s head, which just washed out his face on film.
One photo that didn’t turn out too badly
Fortunately, there were hundreds taking pictures and video there, so I’m not going to be deprived of that.
We did get talking to people before the show started. The guy beside us was kind of funny, as he didn’t seem entirely sure what he was about to see. And his question about how much the seat cost confused me a bit as well. Maybe he won his in in a contest? But, turns out he’d bought tickets from a scalper minutes before, so that explained that. He was a very friendly American from Florida, who’d last seen The Who perform around 1979.
And the people in the row in front us of turned out to be from Waterloo as well. But they’d bought their tickets on Tuesday! This Tuesday! Ticketmaster, I bought my tickets the day they went on sale. Why did these people get better ones, four days before the show? (They said it wasn’t from a reseller or anything.)
[Almost forgot about some lady behind us—apparently not such a big fan—who was nearly freaking out at having been told how long the show would be. Kind of funny.]
Anyway. The important thing is I was really close to Roger Daltrey again, and in fact, even managed to go stand right in front of the stage by evening’s end. (Even though we didn’t make eye contact this time.)
The band
The set list was actually somewhat similar to that of the 2009 Use It or Lose It tour, but it sure has acquired a professional sheen on this tour. In introducing his band, Roger said that they were “the best band I have ever played with.” Now, I don’t know if he’s including The Who among the bands he has played with, but there is no denying he has assembled a fantastic group of musicians here. They provide beautiful backup harmonies throughout, and completely solid musical accompaniment.
I also kind of met them before the show. As I was asking Jean if he remembered seeing what was likely Roger Daltrey’s limo drive past us when were walking over to the Orillia show two years ago [he didn’t], a big limo bus pulled up to the stage entrance of the Sony Centre. So we ambled over to see who would get off. Clearly, we did not meet Mr. Daltrey, or even the young Mr. Townshend. But we did see the keyboard player, and the drummer, and musical director and lead guitarist Frank Simes was particularly nice with all the fans.
The famous-only-by-association Frank Simes
Our buddy Frank on stage
The crowd
I’ve already mentioned them a few times, but it was a great crowd. (The place looked sold out to me; I don’t know if it actually was.) Mostly boomers, of course, but a number of them brought their teenage kids, so that made for a nice younger contingent. I could sense (and hear, in all the singalongs) a real diehard Who crowd. Jean, who didn’t have such a constant laser focus on the man onstage, spent more time actually looking at the crowd and enjoying how much they were enjoying it.
And I’ll leave the last words to Jean.
You know, I didn’t hate that. I didn’t hate that at all.
In preparation for Tuesday’s concert by one of those Queen tribute bands, I re-watched my Queen Live at Wembley DVD, otherwise know as The Last Concert Ever by the Original Four Members of Queen.
Talk about going out on top. This late in their career, it’s just wall-to-wall hits… so many they can’t include them all, since they also want to include some surprises as well. It’s the end of a long tour, so the set is well-honed; they sound fantastic. The massive crowd is adoring and lively.
Most awe-inspiring: The part where Freddie does these solo gymnastics with his voice, teasing around his highest register, demonstrating why he’s the best rock singer ever. Then followed by Brian May pyrotechnics on guitar. Then “Brighton Rock.”
Most fun: When all four members of the band gather at the front of the stage and swing through a medley of early rock classics: “(You’re so Square) Baby I Don’t Care”, “Hello Mary Lou (Goodbye Heart)”, “Tutti Frutti”, and “Gimme Some Lovin’”. Then BoRhap.
Most heartwarming: The crowd singalong during “Love of My Life”. I love the British fans—unlike the North Americans, they know all the Queen songs, not just the greatest hits.
Most chilling: Freddie, the only man in the room with an inkling that this might be the band’s last concert ever (he hadn’t yet told his band mates of his HIV-positive status), explaining how rumors of Queen’s breakup are highly exaggerated, and that the band is going to be together “until we fucking well die—I’m sure of it!” Then launching into “Who Wants to Live Forever?”.
And then for something completely different…
Jean and I watched Lisztomania, director Ken Russel’s 1976 or so film, very loosely based on the life of pianist and composer Franz Liszt. Definitely one of the weirdest movies I’ve ever seen. It starts as a kind musical comedy-romance, then gradually becomes this sort of gothic horror movie with vampires and demons, and then there’s kind of a bit with war and Nazis, and finally there’s a space ship. And some singing.
It’s hard to believe this thing was ever made, because it’s not some B movie thing. It’s a high-budget picture with cinematographers and famous people in it. Must have been some really good drugs in the 1970s. And so, while it’s certainly not a good movie, it’s definitely an interesting failure.
Most awe-inspiring: Awe-inspiring? Geez, I don’t know. When Listz sprouts a giant penis for the four ladies to ride? When Richard Wagner sprouts vampire teeth and drinks Listz’s blood? The demon-worshiping scene with all the naked girls and the candles? So many options…
Most fun: The opening scene really is hoot. Liszt and the contessa’s fun romp to the ever-increasing beat of a metronome is rudely interrupted by her sword-bearing husband, leading to duel featuring chandelier-swinging, banana-eating, and a quickly improvised loin cloth made of sheets.
Most heartwarming: Well, the Chaplinesque scene where Liszt thinks back on his romance with the contessa actually is kind of sweet.
Most chilling: You know, when the dead Wagner rises as a zombie Hitler and starts mowing down the Jews—that really is kind of chilling. Especially as it’s intercut with Liszt being tortured, then killed, by his daughter, wielding voodoo pins on a “tiny daddy” doll.
I’d like to begin by wishing the man who almost shares my birth date (his is one day and many years prior) a belated happy 66th. Thanks for taking care of yourself, dude, so that you’re not only still with us, but still look pretty damn good. Glad the tour with Eric Clapton is going so well.
I could say more, but I don’t want Jean to disown me.
As for my own birthday, it was pretty low-key. We were just back from Timmins and Jean spent the day and night before in London (ON) on business, so not much time for grand celebrations. I did get myself a pie, and we did go dancing that night—our regular ballroom dance class. But I finally mastered—or at least, stopped freaking out over—the previously dreaded “fan and hockey stick” step. (Actually, not that hard.) We even got through a new step, the big top, and at least made an attempt at the more complex sliding door step. Whew.
We are planning a joint birthday dinner next weekend at Peller Estates. They’ve discounted their five-course dinner from $80 to $50 for most of March, so that’s not a bad deal. We just have to find a place to stay now.
As for presents, I’m pondering a new iPod. Just because I’m getting a bit low on space, and I don’t like to do the swapping out thing; I want all the music in one place. And I know there are devices—cheaper ones—other than iPods, but I have invested rather a lot of time in iTunes-specific playlist-building in the past five years. Don’t relish trying to re-create that elsewhere.
All that said, there’s no big rush, though, as I still have slightly over 2 GB of space left—Jean would point out that’s half the total space available on his nano. And I think I’m going to explore the refurbished / eBay market. Classics are up to 120 GB now; I really don’t need that much space. Plus, there’s a freakin’ waiting list for them at the moment, which is just irritating. I’d rather get 80 GB now (or whenever I decide to go ahead) than sit around waiting for 120.
Billboard Magazine has compiled a list of the 50 sexiest songs of all time. It’s Billboard, so the criteria is sales—the more of those, the higher the position in their chart. And which songs qualify to be counted? Apparently, those who subject matter is sex (even with oneself, as “She Bop” makes the list). So the results are kind of bizarre, unless your idea of great romantic evening is listening to Olivia Newton’s John “Physical” (number 1!), Anita Ward’s “Ring My Bell” (number 17), or Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” (number 37). Topped off with “She Bop”, I guess (number 49).
We aren’t doing too much for Valentine’s Day this year—just dinner at home, probably with some nicer wine, and a dessert featuring chocolate. But if we can tear ourselves away from the Olympics for a bit, we may put on some “mood” music. Which would not include any of the above songs (or other entries like “Smack That”, or “Sledgehammer”, or “Afternoon Delight”), but might—iPod shuffle willing—include the following (links to YouTube videos of song, where available):
Featuring an intensely erotic vocal performance by Michael Hutchens, possibly the sexiest rock star ever, only highlighted by his charismatic video performance.
Her Bourbon-soaked voice ideally suits this classic, poetic Joni Mitchell song. Blew me away completely the first time I heard her do this (on her husband’s show).
“And I could drink a case of you / And still be on my feet”
An oldie but a goodie, with another sensuous vocal performance. (Background story is apparently that Ben E King was wheelchair-bound and could not dance with his wife himself.) Doesn’t hurt that it was used as the prom dance soundtrack for Justin and Brian on Queer as Folk.
“But don’t forget who’s talking you home / And in whose arms you’re going be”
I do find Roger Daltrey’s husky-to-sweet-and-back-again voice kind of sexy (big surprise, I know), but The Who sure isn’t one for uncomplicated songs of love. Or lust. So it’s kind of refreshing to hear that voice wrapped around one (as I’d probably find it too mooshy if sung by anyone else).
“I could forget my home / Be like a rolling stone / But what would it mean, without your love?”
Known mostly for quirky tunes like “Mimi on the Beach” and “Everything Reminds Me of My Dog”, Siberry is probably one of the last artists you’d think of coming up with something so sensual. But from the opening, whispered “gimmes”… wow.
“You call that rough? Well it’s not… rough enough”
I know, I know. This one is weird. It’s a completely un-sarcastic song about a guy so taken with his car, he doesn’t want or need a girl. (Or a boy.) But with its driving 6/8 beat and the sheer passion behind Roger Taylor’s singing, it’s just, somehow, very hot. (Much hotter than Queen’s actual songs about sex, like “Get Down, Make Love” or “Body Language” or — God forbid — “Fat Bottomed Girls”.) I don’t think cars are sexy, but this song makes me understand that other people do. They really do.
“When I’m holding your wheel / All I feel is your gear / When my hand’s on your greasegun / Oh, it’s like a disease, son”
So this was a Sunday of firsts. Not only my inaugural viewing of a Superbowl half-time show, but also my first attempt at cooking one of those big, big hams with the bone in it.
I’ve always been a mystified by ham-like meats and their various grocery store names—why is one a “sweet pickle roll” while another is a “steak” and that one there is “smoked hock”? But anyway, whatever the actual name, the big ones with the bone, that are not precooked, were on at a very good price at Sobey’s this week, so I decided to take a stab at cooking that. How hard could it be?
I had assumed it would be like other big hunks of meats, in that you flavored the outside somehow, then stuck it in the oven at a certain temperature for 2+ hours, until the middle part reached the acceptable temperature. To my surprise, though, the package for this thing said it was to be cooked on the stove top in water (for 2+ hours).
Well, thank goodness I still have that huge pasta pot I received as a wedding present and have rarely used since, because it just fit in there. The wrapper then instructed me to remove the wrapper before I cooked it in the water. Boy, what kind of an idiot does this wrapper think I am anyway, I thought, as I removed the plastic and discovered that the meat was in this other mesh-like wrapper. Was I supposed to remove that one?
“Jean! Help!”
Jean called for reinforcements. Since his Mom left the mesh on, so would I.
The instructions then said to cover the meat in cold water, then cook it over low heat for 2 to 2.5 hours, til it reached 71C. Seemed easy enough, so I did as told.
An hour later when I checked, the water was warmish but not bubbly or anything. That seemed a bit odd, but what did I know? Another half hour later, there was some simmer going, and I started working on the scalloped potatoes (which I actually know how to make).
As those went in the oven, I got the bright idea of actually sticking a meat thermometer in the meat to see how it was doing. It was nowhere near 71C. It was at, like 27, or something. And here I was, kind of hoping to eat this thing today.
I now did what I have to assume I was supposed to have done in the first place, which is bring the water to a full boil, then reduce heat to a nice simmer. That did get the temperature moving up a bit quicker. But not really quickly enough.
As microwaving didn’t seem to be much of an option, I was at a bit of a loss as to how to accelerate the cooking time.
“Jean! Help!”
Jean’s suggestion, which I had sorted gleaned onto also, was to cut the big hunk of meat into smaller hunks, figuring each would cook faster that way.
And faster it did go, finally finishing about 3.5 hours after starting, and about 0.5 hours after the scalloped potatoes and braised cabbage with cranberries were done. But that wasn’t so bad. And everything was really very tasty. (Thank goodness, because I think we’re going to be eating the leftovers for the next week or two.)
So in the background of this kitchen drama, as of 6:45 or so, was The Superbowl. Muted. (Yes, I have a TV in my kitchen. Doesn’t everyone?) So I was able to look up to it every once in a while, between fretting about meat temperature, to see the first two quarters count down.
Though I needn’t really have worried, because as the second quarter wound down, I got not one but two calls informing me of the impending halftime show. It’s so nice to have people in your life who care! And who actually want to watch The Superbowl. And by then, we were actually done eating dinner (though not putting away all the leftovers).
I went downstairs where the PVR lives and put it on Superbowl channel. Only the sound was all broken up. That wasn’t going to work. So I tried other Superbowl channels – CBS, maritime, BC. Then other, non-Superbowl channels.
Basically, the sound was a fubarred anywhere. With about 2 minutes left in the second quarter, the PVR needed a reboot.
So while it reset itself, I watched the countdown on the kitchen TV. With about 10 seconds left, the PVR was back, sound restored to normality.
I then sat with the remote, planning to hit the record when The Who actually began their set. Only, it had been so long since I actually recorded anything playing live (I normally preset everything I plan to watch), I didn’t really know how to do that. Which I only realized as their set began.
“Jean! Help!”
Jean managed the highly complex [not] process of recording what was currently on (and we later remembered that it actually tapes everything from when I first tuned to that channel, so I actually have the whole thing).
And then we watched The Who—me a little more closely than Jean.
Jean [during Baba O’Reilly]: Is that all they’re doing of that one? Me (feeling weirdly proud that he now knows when Baba O’Reilly is shortened): Yeah, it’s medley.
The set list was utterly unsurprising. They only have 12 minutes. Of course they’re going to play all the CSI themes, somehow. It certainly would have been nice to hear more of their catalog, and it might have been interesting (or an interesting disaster) if they’d actually tried to “mash up” some of their songs (and come to think of it, they used do that very thing, live … quite brilliantly). But again… 12 minutes.
Jean [during Who Are You]: You must disappointed he’s wearing a shirt. Me: Yeah, and no wardrobe malfunctions this year.
The outfits: Though still in remarkably great shape for nearly 66, I don’t actually think Daltrey should still go out in full bare chest-al glory anymore. So the jacket was fine, but that scarf? I don’t really get his fondness for scarves, unless he feels having a warm neck actually helps with singing, or something. (And some bloggers are complaining about seeing Townsend’s “white tummy” far too often—which I can’t say I particular even noticed!)
Jean: [during Won’t Get Fooled Again]: Wow, I’m impressed how fast they set that stage up. Me: Did you know The Who pioneered the use of lasers in rock concerts?
The staging was pretty awesome. The light show, the fireworks—it looked great on TV, it must have looked fantastic in the stadium.
As to the overall performance? Though a bit sloppy at times, I thought they were pretty good, generally. Mind, I wasn’t expecting them to sound like they did in 1971. It was fun to hear the big stadium singing along with them. Knowing that Daltrey’s voice is a thing of wonkiness these days, I was actually tense waiting for him to attempt the “Won’t Get Fooled Again” scream. But to my relief, that was great! (Though it may well be the years of doing that scream that has reduced his voice to what it is now…)
I did a bit of review reading afterward. What I found most weird were the accusations, at Rollingstone.com, that they lip-synced the entire performance. (This is not in the review, but in the dreaded comments section.) I’m with those who said, you know, if the whole thing was pre-recorded, don’t you think it would have been a little… better?
And my favourite review is the fairly poignant one in the New York Times, some of which I’ll quote below:
Instead, for what was probably its biggest one-time viewing audience, the Who chose repertory from Townshend’s increasingly ambitious late-1960s albums and afterward, when he was already taking a grown-up’s point of view: “Pinball Wizard” and the gentle “See me, feel me” snippet from his 1969 rock opera “Tommy”; “Baba O’Riley” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again” from the 1971 “Who’s Next”; and the title song from the 1978 “Who Are You.” If there was a 21st-century attention-span paradox in having the man who wrote rock operas and concept albums compress his life’s work into 12 minutes — well, Townshend said beforehand that the medley was Daltrey’s idea.
They were songs about prowess, determination, desperation and rage at how revolutions fail: an arc of verbal frustration defied, and explosively overcome, by musical assertiveness, with the power chords that the Who made ring worldwide. They were songs that expected, and got, large audiences at the time. It was music born to be heard in arenas and stadiums, and the halftime show might have been these songs’ last airing on their accustomed monumental scale.
…
The Who did its best to punk up its songs again, even amid the Super Bowl’s fiesta of corporate branding, and “Won’t Get Fooled Again” — the song that got the fullest airing — still had a good part of its old ferocity. But it was a line in “Baba O’Riley” that touched on what kind of milestone this brief, happily unkempt, late-career performance was for the Who. “Let’s get together before we get much older,” Daltrey sang, looking directly across the stage at Townshend.
PS – I also quite liked this blog post [link no longer valid, unsurprisingly], which (despite not containing nearly enough information about ham) nicely made the point that while The Who’s Superbowl performance was mostly fine, they’re just doomed now by having once been the best live band. Period. I especially liked this line: “The Who are probably the most underrated band that many people consider wildly overrated.”
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
This is how Jean explains the fact that we were in Orillia this weekend:
I got back from my canoeing trip and Cathy says, “You need to book November 6 off work. Because we’re going to an adultery concert.”
So I said, “Ah, is there something you’re trying to tell me, honey?”
But see, she meant Roger Daltrey—you know, from The Who?
So, that’s why I can’t do woodworking / go canoeing with you / stay any later at this party. Because we have to drive to Orillia this weekend, to get the pre-sale tickets at the box office, so we can get the good seats.
Which is a good little anecdote. Amusing. Not quite how I remember it, but some of the facts are there.
I did indeed find out, while Jean was away, that Roger Daltrey was touring (for the first time in 25 years), and that his only Ontario date was at the casino in Orillia. Of course I wanted to go—not like there are tons of opportunities to see him perform in relatively small venues—but Orillia struck me as a slightly annoying location, as it wasn’t so far away as to be impossible or terribly expensive to get there, but not so close as to be able to just buy tickets and worry about the details later.
The Who’s official website talked about this 2-day pre-sale (available only to Who fan club members—$50 US for that), including meet and greet packages. That all seemed cool, but there were no price details, and I wasn’t sure how many tickets I’d be needing, and… I fretted, but let those 2 days pass.
Which turned out to be a great decision, since Orillia was excluded from all that—no Who fan club pre-sale, no meet and greet packages on offer. (And by the way, it’s $350-$400 for that meet and greet stuff. Rather a lot for what would likely just be an awkward, 2-minute conversation with a stranger, eh? Like, what would I say to him? “Mr. Daltrey, I’m a big fan of your work. What a great voice. And what a great chest. Really, thank you so much for not wearing a shirt for most of the seventies! I really appreciate that!”
I’m sure that would have gone over well.)
Anyway. Pre-sale tickets for Orillia were set for August 16, so I had about a week after Jean got back to talk him into it. Because, see, Jean doesn’t particularly like going to rock concerts, as a rule, and while he has nothing against The Who, you wouldn’t call him a big fan, either.
I waited a day, then launched my pitch. I started with a joke about researching casinos because I thought I might take up gambling, but that fell a bit flat, so I just went into the facts, “and I know it’s a three-hour drive, and it’s Thursday night, which means you’re on call, and…”
“Well, find a friend to go with you and I’ll drive you. We’ll stay overnight, right?”
Say what now? “Yes, we’d have to. And I don’t know that any of my friends would be interested, but I don’t mind doing the concert part by myself.”
“Well, if you’d be alone, I’ll go with you.”
Say what now?
My second bout of fretting now deflated, I turned to the matter of getting tickets.
I called the casino and asked what the deal was with this pre-sale. Which was that, first of all, you needed a casino card. It was free to get one of those, so fine. But secondly, you had to take yourself and your casino card to the box office in Orillia, in person, and get the tickets there.
I concluded it just wasn’t reasonable to drive six hours in a day (there and back) just to get tickets, but then I fretted that they’d be all sold out in that two-day pre-sale.
Jean sighed. And then suggested that maybe we could make a weekend of it, spreading the driving over two days.
I started cooking him all his favourite foods.
But, you know, Orillia turns out to be quite a nice little town (and really only a 2.5 hours drive), apparently not drained of its life blood by its casino. It’s right on the water, and it was a beautiful weekend, so we quite enjoyed the beach and the marina. Downtown had an exhibit of classic cars, which was kind of interesting. Our reasonably priced Inn room had a little kitchen, living room, king-size bed, and two TVs! We ate in this neat restaurant set up in an old train, and went to see a musical revue about golf. (Which, OK, was a little weird, but it did fill up the evening.)
And, I am now the proud owner of two tickets in the seventh row, just slightly to the right of center stage.
On the way home, we stopped at Michael’s Statdlander’s new bakery in Singhampton. Best ice cream ever!
So now I can stop fretting. (But Jean can keep telling his anecdote.)
From 1974 interview with Roger Daltrey:
Q: Will you still be doing this in your 60s?
A: Sure. Why not? Singers only get better with age.
Q: Would you play Vegas?
A: I don’t know. Maybe.
Q: You won’t get fat like Elvis, though, will you?
Destinations: Quebec City, Charlevoix, and points between
A British magazine called Classic Rock that counted down the top vocalists of all time. Number one choice of fans, critics, and musicians alike? Freddie [Mercury], natch.
Blueberry honey from the Musée de l’abeille. Honey that fresh is so different from the stuff you get at the supermarket, it might as well be a different food altogether.
A crazy amount of Québecois cheese. Among them: la Sauvagine (from the source), cèdre de lune, le migneron, and le ciel de Charlevoix (from that source), and the 1608, made from a rare breed of Canadian cow dating from that time. (Hey, did you know you can freeze cheese?)
A Medieval-style red and black dress that seems slightly impractical but that I was talked into on assurances that it really suited me.
A used copy of Roger Daltrey’s Ride a Rock Horse LP. Not CD—LP. Really, I wanted the cover.
Chocolates ranging in flavors from ginger to chai to marshmallow. None of which I’ve actually tried yet, but they look and smell great.
A fat British movie magazine called Empire. Because in Britain, apparently, the Internet has not killed the movie magazine business, as it has in North America.
Items I won’t detail from La boutique Kama Sutra. Oh, and some batteries.
Free-range duck products in many forms—magret, foie gras, paté, confit. (Yes, we travelled with an electric cooler. Otherwise, the smell of cheese might have killed us.)
A copy of the Ryerson Review of Journalism. The one magazine I haven’t read yet.
An original art work by a young Québecois artist, done in pastels, about 16 by 20, featuring a woman bathing. Quite striking.
Sparkling cider products from the cidrerie at l’Ile aux Coudres.
An art book featuring the work of Laurent Lafleur, one of whose original paintings we already own, and whom we got to meet on this trip.
Two bottles of Rosé from a Prince Edward County winery, meant to distract us from the astounding Chardonnay we tasted but didn’t purchase at another Prince Edward County winery, because that one was $42. Didn’t work—we spent the next half week mooning over that Chardonnay, until our taste buds were cleared by an astounding Cotes du Rhone (with meal).
MoneySense magazine, which has advice on how to save money. Which I probably need now.
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