It’s that time of year, dagnabbit! As many of my favourite network political comedy series go on hiatus until next year, and Keith Olbermann calls it quits on his Youtube Resistance series, it’s harder than ever to find the funny in the funk.
And at this point – if it didn’t happen and get reported in the last 24 hours, it’s old news anyway.
Rather than spend hours sadly and fruitlessly seeking out something positive on the political front, I’ve decided to turn my powers to good, and bring to your attention some worthy local musical talent.
After all, Christmas is coming, and what better way is there to show your love -and incredibly good taste – than by sharing a delightful, hot off the press, musical slice of Canadiana?
December 2nd was the official release date of critically acclaimed songwriter and local delight, Arlene Bishop‘s, new project, Arlene Bishop & The Spirit of Adventure – Together Tonight
In the Spring of 2013, a nascent concept, based on the visual memory of a 1920’s photo of a group of Harlem musicians, started to tickle Arlene’s fancy. Would it be possible to connect with others in her community, to gather a group of like minds to share ideas, music, and food, and blend those voices into something stage worthy? she wondered. But that first impulse remained undercover until late 2015.
“I had a mission statement that was clear to me: I wanted to sing with nice people. I knew I wanted to bring good people together. I didn’t realize that I was lonely and felt disconnected from my community. I’ve always battled depression. In the past when I was comfortable in bars it was easier to deal with. When I changed some habits I stopped going out very much. Money was a challenge, crowds were uncomfortable, dramas were unbearable, so I ended up isolating myself. I had a small circle of friends I would socialize with but the rest of the world was in social media. I connected from a distance. Except at Christmas time when I hosted a casual non-traditional carolling party at home and chums would come over and we’d sing together. I loved it. I loved singing in a different way. I loved all the voices. The carolling inspired me.”
The project she was considering was of a voice orchestra .. a vorchestra. In a bold move, Bishop reached out on social media to anyone who might be interested in joining her steadily growing group of potential vocal ‘instruments,’ and even prepared a video, a sort of home tour, to give the volunteers an idea of what they could expect to encounter at rehearsals.
I was intrigued when the list of worthy vocalists who’d signed up began to unfurl; some of the best known and unknown vocalists in the city were clamouring to join Arlene’s ambitious project.
Names like John Alcorn, Allyson Morris, Bunny Brown, Meryn Cadell, Tory Cassis, John Copping, Scott Dibble, Hotcha! (Howard Druckman, Beverly Kreller,) Heather Morgan, Adam Faux, Fergus Hambleton, Terra Hazelton, Jane Harbury, Caroly Lawson, Debbie Lillico, Jen Long, Katharine Gray, Marc Merilainen, Michelle Gold, Nanci Jandrisils, Rosanne Baker Thornly, Blair Packham, Sue and Dwight Peters, Joanne Ingrassia, , Robert Priest, David Sereda, Jennifer Schaffer, and Julian Taylor.
Lotsa good names, there.
I will confess that I was dying to be part of her movable feast. However, I was a little shy, and living in Scarborough. The travel time alone would have been horrendous.
Still wish I’d done it, though. Sometimes I can be a real wuss.
Anyway, back to the CD. Like Topsy, her modest idea grew and grew, until it had outgrown the original parameters she’d thought it would encompass, and it became necessary to outsource some of the roles – administrator, videographer, arranger, fundraiser, planner, web designer, ticket seller – that she couldn’t personally fulfill while still being the ‘lead singer’ and conceptual artist.
Miss John Copping was enlisted to be the conductrix, while photographer Scott Murdoch thought he’d like to try his hand as chief videographer. Scott Dibble offered to help execute Bishop’s vision on stage , Lauren Atmore was brought in to help with executing the concerts, and display artist Sheila Wolicky worked on dressing the venue. And last but not least, Arlene’s mum chipped in money for a little pre-performance pampering.
“Owen Walker jumped in as a runner. James Paul took technical considerations of recording off my shoulders. Yawd Sylvester, my partner and keyboard player, was preparing food for the rehearsals. My son Owen was shooting video and carrying gear. “
Once the players were in place, it became necessary to find funding to pay for all of the elements to be put into place.
“… I set out a personal goal to not have anyone work on the project for free. I’m tired of musos being undervalued and underpaid and I wanted to fix that in my little world. “
No stone was left unturned. Through Patreon, donations were triggered whenever a new video was posted … and since part of the process involved making a video documentary, new videos were posted regularly. Private sponsors chipped in to feed and water the singers, while IndieGoGo was the crowdfunding choice for the manufacturing and presales of the CDs.
After months of hard work, all of the preparation led to an incredible evening at Toronto’s Hugh’s Room, on Nov. 14, 2017, when Arlene and her collection of 30 guest singers and band, collectively dubbed The Spirit of Adventure, gathered to record the performance, live, in front of an appreciative audience.
Which brings us to December 2nd, and the official release date of Arlene Bishop & The Spirit of Adventure – Together Tonight.
The CD, complete with audience reaction, and Arlene Bishop’s trademark quirky humour, is available on BandCamp http://arlenebishop.bandcamp.com/album/together-tonight
CD Baby https://store.cdbaby.com/Artist/ArleneBishop
iTunes https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/arlene-bishop/id14082633
And for more information, be sure to check out her page at https://www.arlenebishop.com
The CD is a terrific listen. Treat yourself to a truly Canadian musical feast – you deserve it!
“Fly” was written right after the presidential election. “‘Fly’ is kind of at the crux of the album, ” Saliers explains. “A murmuration of birds is practically inexplicable to scientists, but it’s a very powerful thing to watch, and I see it happening in our country in an amazing way right now. From Black Lives Matter to the Women’s March to Standing Rock, there are all these grassroots movements starting to coalesce, and I take great comfort in the way people are instinctually moving together to fight injustice and hate.”
Trip and jitters aside, I still found the time on Friday afternoon to drop in on Greg Godovitz at El Mocambo‘s pop up shop, Prohibition (66 Kensington Avenue,) where I bought a couple of rocking t-shirts for my western family. Then it was off to the media launch at Tom’s Place, (190 Baldwin) where local luminaries, including a texting Mayor John Tory, the dashing Richard Flohill, and chanteuses Molly Johnson and Genevieve Marentette, along with Celine Peterson (daughter of Oscar) and a host of others, gathered to celebrate the beginning of the fest.
To my hippie ears, his new CD has a sort of new age-y updated feel of Mike Oldfield‘s Tubular Bells, played on this fascinating Persian instrument.
Toronto’s favourite son and perennial Energizer bunny, Danny Marks, will be playing at the Hotbox Cafe (204 Augusta) from 1:00-2:00 pm, ($12. at the door) and then at Prohibition from 4:00-6:00 pm (Pay what you can.)
The Ex holds less appeal for me every year. I’m still mourning the loss of the Alpine Way, and my ears still keen to hear the dulcet tones of the barker demanding that we come to see the “Gorilla Gorilla Gorilla GURL!”
What did we do all day, I asked myself recently. How did we fill all of the hours when we weren’t minding the brat, fishing, picking berries, tending the smoky fire, or reading soggy comic books and True Romance magazines? Mostly we talked, for hours at a time, about our dreams, hopes, and fears. Some days, I’d make Marianne laugh so hard that she’d pee her pants. If I was in a mood, I’d keep it up until her week’s worth of undies were all strung up on nearby branches.
king seat belts! And off we’d go, the gang of us, with maybe a dog, and a musical instrument or two for company, headlong down the steep road, high as kites, heading for the dam so that we could continue the revelry, at least until the purple micro dots wore off and/or the sun came up.
I wonder what ever happened to Donna, the dreamy blue eyed beauty that loved the Monkees as much as I did, but chose a hardscrabble life mucking out barns instead, determined to stand by her longhaired, drug dealing, man. Is she still living in rural Canada or America, amidst macrame pot holders and peace symbols? Or did she wake up one morning and realize in a horror stricken panic that she could have been and done anything she wanted to, had she chosen differently?
Because, it is implied, even if the art is not Louvre-worthy, that people of colour, and the inner city poor, should at least have the opportunity to feast their eyes upon such statuary. That the monument honours a man in support of slavery and a slave trade that treated the park’s attendees ancestors as human cattle, is a mere peccadillo in their eyes.
Make no mistake; the decision to remove the statue was a democratic decision. The reasoning behind the removal was sound, fiscally conservative, and sensitive to ALL of the residents of the city, not just those who wanted it to remain.
As a young woman, growing up in Alberta and Quebec, I loved drama. I yearned to be on stage, wowing the audience, making sweeping gestures that would evoke memories of Judy Garland or Isadora Duncan. I wanted to wear fabulous clothing, clothing so stunning that people would stop dead in the streets to watch me as I sashayed along the pavement with my scarves twirling in the breeze, and my skirts trailing behind me like a bridal train.
My goal was to be a Diva, a Drama Queen whose whims and pronouncements were acknowledged, and even accepted as truth. Who wouldn’t want to be the one whose outrageous outfits and still more shocking antics kept others talking about her in hushed, and often respectful, tones? I wanted the power that comes from being predictably unpredictable.
To be the Diva, the Queen, the one that must have all of the attention all of the time, requires an exhausting amount of maintenance to ensure that the public remains engaged in following even the most mundane of acts. It’s a hard position to maintain, requiring a persistent but oblique scrutiny of those expected to slavishly serve, and a constant pulse-taking to ensure the attention never flags. And of course, to keep the interest fresh, it requires that new and ever more shocking behaviour be always on display.
The Diva is having all the fun. Oh, they may occasionally frame a petty or inconvenient moment of discomfort as being equivalent to a circle of Dante’s hell, but it will be made clear that they alone are emotionally capable of suffering the tortures of the damned. Your job loss or cancer diagnosis pales at the spectre of their badly timed broken fingernail. Your real job is the alleviation of the Diva’s melodramatic – and often imaginary – pain.
That need lies at the heart of every power struggle in human interaction in history; the only difference being in how far that desire for control is taken.
But we humans also need stability, security, and the comfort of habit. Most of us embody Newton’s first law of motion – sometimes referred to as the law of inertia. “An object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force. ”
In some situations, chaos is welcomed, at least for a short period of time. Long term frustration and anxiety over things we believe cannot be changed can lead to a need for a saviour, for a liberator who will kick over the traces of what has been, the disruptor who will fly in the face of what we’ve been told is ‘just the way it is.”
We all have ears. Why do we not all hear the same way? Barring physical anomalies, all the parts of the ear are standard in pretty much every human. Male or female, an ear’s an ear, right. Or is it?
Sorry … that was to engage the other side, guys.
ations as a Venus fly trap.
“Perfect pitch (also referred to as absolute pitch) is the incredibly rare ability of a person to instantaneously identify or sing any given musical note without a reference pitch. It is estimated that 1/10,000 people in the USA are born with this cognitive trait. 
you may have discovered the downside of ‘”if it’s too loud, you’re too old.” Professional musicians are about 57% more likely than non-musicians to suffer from tinnitus (constant ringing in the ears,) and suffer noise induced hearing loss four times more often than other people. Neither of these afflictions are fun, just to be clear.
eers. It’s integral to creating societies that can come together as one, to move civilization forward.
Music is a universal language, but in order for all to hear what is said, there must be a generosity of listening, and that can only happen in a calm, open, giving environment. When everyone is being compelled to think and feel the same, you get a lot less ‘moon in June‘ love songs, and a lot more marches and songs glorifying dying for the Fatherland, eventually leading to the sounds of silence.
The Na-Me-Res (Native Men’s Residence) lucked out with the weather for the annual traditional Pow Wow held Saturday, June 24th, at the Fort York historical site. The day was sunny, yet breezy, and very well attended.
We’d run into Vicki and Bill Wood (the Woodies, Eye Eye) on our way in to the Pow Wow, and spent some time chatting with them. Now it was time to begin our walkabout through the 50 craft vendor and information booths on site, chatting with old and new friends.
With lunch on our minds, we were happy to see our friend Shawn Adler‘s Pow Wow Cafe was represented with a food booth on site. From the moment the Cafe opened, the foodies were lined up for blocks; the food IS that good. So we were lucky to see the multitalented artists, Annalee Orr and Nancy Beiman, close to the head of the very long line up for his Indian Tacos. They asked us to join them, and with little persuasion, and some apologies to those we’d line cut, we did, and soon had our plates of bannock smothered in beef, vegetables, salad and sour cream clutched in our hands.
Dancers in full regalia drifted through the crowds, brilliant visions of colour and sound as the jingles attached to heels rang.
And it is always a joy to encounter David DePoe, community activist, retired teacher, and Kensington Marketeer, best-known for his activities in the late 1960s as an unofficial leader of the Yorkville hippies, and founder of the Diggers movement in Yorkville.
When we sold the house last fall and moved into a suite of rooms, it was with the fervent hope that we could stay put for a while. But it was not to be … a girl needs her kitchen and her ‘things’ around her, and my poor cats were traumatized by the presence of another cat in the residence. It was all too much.
And with all of the stress around packing and moving, rehearsing a reunion of the cast of the musical “Hair,” and the putting together of the Segarini Riddock Band to debut today (Sunday June 11th) for a dear friend’s memorial/wake, my health decided to take a left turn, requiring a stream of doctor’s appointments. With rehearsals literally every second day, I was a tad pressed for time, but I handled it all with grace and … oh, who am I kidding?
On the plus side, the Hair gig was a joy on the day. The original Toronto production of the musical Hair began in 1969, and ran for a sold out 52 week run. The Tribe, which included original cast members Paul Ryan, Clint Ryan, Kid Carson, Frank Moore, Jim Peters, John Stainton, Harriet Teear, Amber Wendelborg James, and Shelley Somers, was filled out with vocalist Debbie Fleming and myself for this incarnation.
Everything was everywhere, and on top of that, whatever boxes I’d carefully set aside to be safely brought to the new place by car, somehow wound up on the truck and under hundreds of other heavy boxes.. And so I spent another week in flip flops, unable to find my shoes … or my orange clogs … or my hair dryer …
It is Day Eleven of the move that will not die, and we are still tracing a crooked path through an obstacle course to get from the front to the back door.
But right now, it’s a rat’s nest. Here’s my view from my desk chair.
Please join us if you can – it will be a rockin’ sendoff to a good guy gone too soon.
It’s such a treat to just walk up the street to a good restaurant, or to pop into a local bar to hear friends playing. I no longer have to pack my purse with overnight supplies before heading out to do groceries, or to visit my chums in the downtown core.
a comfy place for those who’ve been bruised by life to relax, meet other people of like minds, or to simply sit quietly, knitting or colouring, without fear of being asked to ‘move along.’
Musical Director Peter Kashur brought together Bob, Drew Winters, and a motley crew of Kid Carson, Craig Riddock, Connor Walsh, Annette Shaffer and myself for a rollicking 45 minute set that grew, like Topsy, into an hour and a half of bluster and blather.
The singers, ably accompanied by pianist Michael Shand, performed for an appreciative crowd in a private home in the Annex. These salons are a wonderful way for musicians to make a living, performing in a comfortable setting, where the attendees are fans, grateful for a chance to capture an intimate moment in time with their musical icons, and even have a conversation with them after their show at the reception.
I haven’t been to the parade in years, though I did get to be one of the rabbit stole wearing girls waving from the back seat of a convertible many years ago as the “Miss Irish St Augustines,’ in Montreal.
as well as Catholic. Prejudices ran deep in the north and could be seen in newspaper cartoons depicting Irish men as drunkards and Irish women as prostitutes. Many businesses hung signs out front of their shops that read “No Irish Need Apply“, or “NINA” for short. The initial backlash the Irish received in America lead to their self-imposed seclusion, making assimilation into society a long and painful process.” 
ey stumbled off the boats, fleeing famine and political strife. Many of those marching in St Patrick`s Day Parades today have no interest or stake in the politics of modern day Ireland, but the urge to celebrate their heritage remains strong.
frustratedboomers 