I’d never have believed it if I didn’t have a friend there to witness it as well, but the same suit-wearing old guy from last year’s Lee’s Palace showcase was there last night, joining the crowd of university-age kids in front of the stage for The Pigeon Detectives. I couldn’t tell if he stunk this year; he was too far away to smell, and the kids were enveloped in a cloud of too-sweet-smelling colognes.
Surreal, yet awesome.
I said I wasn’t going to drink. I said I had to work the next day. Only one of those statements is still true today. Ugh.
Last night was Misteur Valaire, The Details, The Cansecos, and The Russian Futurists, splitting time between Rancho and Sneaky Dee’s. I got my fill of dancey techno indie-pop stuff (note: The Details are not this - they are some ‘Peg rock good peoples). No complaints from me - my show review will be forthcoming ASAP. Tonight will be a hazy shoe-gaze affair, it looks like.
Incidentally, I ran into Nate from the Schomberg Fair at the St. Lawrence Market today. He’s got a very amusing story about Road to Avonlea. I can’t really tell it, but if you see him, it’s worth asking about.
Picked up our media passes yesterday with Dan. The registration and media events are being held at the Royal York this year, instead of the Holiday Inn. Apparently this venue change has signalled an equivalent ante-upping of dress and demeanour as the Royal York media area was in full-on banquet mode - well-dressed old people in suits, very few indie-rocker types, and lots of white tablecloths and puff pastries. This is what CMW means to people who’ve forgotten what music sounds like.
Dan and I were not particularly impressed, so we went to Harvey’s instead and I had a burger that made my stomach hurt for 3 hours.
Note to self: ask Dan why Rancho is not serving beluga caviar
Tonight: Sneaky Dee’s
Having just received mostly-official confirmation of my accreditation as a member of the press for CMW, I look forward to this weekend. It begins early, on Thursday night, in complete disharmony with my workweek which ends, conventionally, on Friday. This begins 4 solid nights of intoxication and further reduction of audible frequencies through repeated trauma.
And a whole shit-load of bands.
I can be somewhat critical (wait, hear me out) but last year’s CMW was rather enjoyable (apart from a somewhat confusing appearance of a 50 year old man in a suit showing up at Lee’s Palace stinking of incredible body odour who didn’t seem to notice he was the only person in the room smoking marijuana, and who, of course, had to stand right beside me). So I have high expectations for this year - no pun intended.
I will accept nothing but quality entertainment, dammit.
I wake up to CBC Radio’s Music and Company every morning, and today, at 7am I am promptly greated with the news that Jeff Healey died. The news is somewhat surprising, even though I have no personal stake in or specific love for his music. I guess he just seemed a bit young, and he was. 41 years - complications from cancer.
As I said, I have no particular love of his music, yet he’s been in my mind for a long time. My aunt collected his records, and there’s Healey’s down on Queen and Bathurst. I think it affects me because he seemed, and was, a very genuine person, full of warmth and love for music. It’s always going to suck when people like him go.
And CBC played him performing a cover of this song, My Blackbirds are Bluebirds Now. I can’t find a version of Healey playing it, but I liked it so much I’m posting the next best thing.