Great Concert. Big Fun. Sea of No Cares.

Great Concert. Big Fun. Sea of No Cares.

It was all present during Great Big Sea's outdoor concert at Safari Niagara this past August. The boys sailed into Stevensville, ON and delivered their trademark energy sending waves of elation to wash over the cluster of fans. Anyone who listens to Great Big Sea's music probably wonders if singer and guitarist Alan Doyle is as crazy and spirited in concert as he sounds on CD. And of course, like most multi-talented musically-reared musicians, his passion and energy comes across tenfold live. This is a man who obviously loves to perform and engage the audience. The entire band has always succeeded in doing that. Regardless of how many times I hear Sean McCann belt out General Taylor, with or without the heartbeat drum accompaniment, it always gives me chills.

The name of this tour is XX. Twenty. 2013 marks the band's 20th Anniversary of getting people on their feet and sharing in the craft of traditional and contemporary music. Upon reflection, I realised I've actually been immersed in their artistry for probably that long. The first time I saw them was many years ago - sometime in the  mid-90's. I was visiting my parents for Christmas, and a close friend of mine invited me to a concert at the Delta Hotel Ballroom in St. John's. I didn't recognise the name of the band but he assured me I would enjoy it and he never steers me wrong so I accepted the invitation. Great Big Sea was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. I wasn't a big concert goer back then, and growing up in a small Labrador community didn't expose me to a whole lot of musical diversity. The concert was standing room only which didn't matter because nobody would have been able to stay seated anyway. I became intoxicated by the exuberance of the crowd and the passion of the performers harmonizing their lyrics and alternating instruments as effortlessly as we alternate cutlery. I was enthralled by the buzz of the crowd who gleefully sang along and somehow knew that the sad introduction to the story of Pat Murphy wasn't really going to be that sad of a song...

I still can't confirm how far back that concert occurred because my original ticket stub doesn't have a year on it!!! It just has Friday, Dec. 27th at 8:30 pm. But that's OK. I'm just glad to have been there as well as many more of their concerts over the years. And following the 2013 concert where I took this picture from the grass of Safari Niagara I was proud to purchase their anniversary tour t-shirt knowing that I was singing along to Mari-Mac long before anyone else in Stevensville, ON was doing it! That is, if they even can!

Current Swell

IlluminAqua - July 5

Because I love music, I had secured the opportunity to volunteer in the green room at a recent IlluminAqua concert in Welland. I had the pleasure of working with two charismatic women who made it their plan to spend Friday concert nights in that well-appointed office. It was the first leg of the folk festival, and we were tasked with ensuring a comfortable space for the members of Street Pharmacy, Jon and Roy, and Current Swell.

There was magic in my air that night.  I loved that all three bands were collaborating in a board room cleverly disguised as a dinner hall! I imagined the conversations they must have been having: Street Pharmacy sharing stories about their host town, all the reminiscing about various concert tours, and everyone exchanging ideas about their wonderfully expressive chosen profession.  

It was intriguing to observe the artists up close and relaxed before the show... a guitarist nonchalantly strumming around the corner, the strings behaving like extensions of his fingers to reveal the melody... sketching out schematics to illustrate their ideas for the lighting technician... and kicking around the hackeysack which seemed a fine outlet for connecting and blowing off steam before a show!

Close up, they were all polite - genuinely appreciative of the space and amenities provided to them, mellow and down to earth. On stage, they exploded out of their quiet personas to properly occupy the entire floating stage and engulf the entire block in music! It's awesome what a microphone and some well-timed lighting can do to amplify talent.

The boys appreciate their fans. I spied the lead singer of Street Pharmacy occupying the merchandise booth, happily signing CD's and t-shirts. Current Swell acknowledged those audience members they knew came from Ridgeway, from Sarnia, and from as far away as Boston to see their show. They then proceeded to play a song so many people were requesting and thrived on eliciting outright elation among them!  They acknowledged those people taking in the show from their kayaks, a sweet benefit of being afloat in Welland! 

At the end of the evening, I walked home with a smile on my face and some great new CD's in my purse with a complete set of autographs adorning them. There was no question about whether I would do it again. The WRCC was thanking me for volunteering, but I kept thanking them for the opportunity to be a part of it all!!

Spellbound at Massey Hall, January 30, 2013

This was the scene at Massey Hall about fifteen minutes before Wynton Marsalis and Jazz at Lincoln Centre began their seduction of divine artistry and expressive passion. As we settled into our seats and surveyed our surroundings, it was clear this wasn't going to be "just another Wednesday evening"!

There was a great buzz in the air - sashaying across the red floors and swirling up the black support beams and skipping along the seat backs - rendering the crowd tipsy with anticipation. This is one lush, historic venue, well-versed in the hosting of serious music lovers as they delight in their genre of choice.

This vantage point provided a different angle of this grand space. While the view from the back of the theatre puts the scalloped ceiling on display, this view from the side showcases the tidy seating levels and stained-glass windows high above. From this angle, one can not only revel in the antics of those on stage but also in the reactions of those gleefully under their spell.

As the artists occupied the stage, the star trumpeter assumed his position at the back of the ensemble, and maintained it right up until the encore. Wynton Marsalis even retained his seat for his solos, revealing much about his modesty and his support of the other performers. The intention for this band is to promote jazz. Mission accomplished.

This concert solidified my existence as a jazz lover! My jaw fell open as I absorbed the first number and it pretty much remained there for the duration of the show (and judging from the honest vocal reactions of other members of the audience, I wasn't the only one captivated). I marvelled at the performers' ability to interpret the music, knowledge of their respective instruments' capabilities (and ability to push those limits wholeheartedly!), and razor-sharp communication between and during sets.

I delighted in the genuine expressions of enjoyment amongst the performers. I think musicians must be at the top of the "work that doesn't feel like work" ladder. The pianist was absolutely giddy as he arched over his keys, his fingers fluttering proficiently along each one, his smile radiating out into the air. The drummer, the only performer not wearing a suit jacket (who rocked his suspenders) was also beaming like a kid at Christmas. The bassist lavished sweet attention onto his bass, passionately devouring its neck at one moment , and softly plucking its strings the next.  

It was great to observe performers who held an obvious level of admiration towards one another's instrument of choice. They would turn around during their break to drink in another's performance, perhaps learning a little something along the way, perhaps reaffirming a sense of gratitude for sharing their craft.

There were a few performances at centre stage, including a sexy and very physical guest trombone soloist, a smooth and charismatic baritone sax feature, and a trio performing an exquisite and impossibly delicate rendition of Mood Indigo.

Everything about the experience sang to me. I even loved that when the ensemble played 42nd and Broadway, I remembered that I once stood at that very intersection! But I guess that's part of the interpretive power of music: its tendency to evoke memories and stimulate emotions that are unique to each and every person drawn into its spell.

Blue Rodeo at Safari Niagara July 20, 2012

My favourite Blue Rodeo album is Casino. I had bought the cassette tape back in 1991 after falling in love with the black and white video of the guys playing Trust Yourself  in the snow. I still think that song is fabulous, and so different from anything else the band has created. As I played that tape endlessly, side after side, I would find myself singing What Am I Doing Here throughout my work day, and I lingered over the emotions of Montreal and After the Rain, the latter probably getting the most airplay in my little cassette player!

Although these and many other Blue Rodeo melodies became part of my soundtrack of growing up, I had never experienced a live performance of theirs - I was starting to feel like the only Canadian ever to utter such words! It just never ended up working out for me.

Last year, while we were enjoying a Sarah McLachlan concert, Greg Keelor appeared before us on stage - a complete surprise to us - to perform the haunting Dark Angel. Then this past May, I was a member of the open air audience at The Jim Cuddy Band's performance as part of the revered Illuminaqua Series in Welland. And at that time, I was already the proud owner of tickets to see Blue Rodeo perform at Safari Niagara.

It was a neat venue, spread out like a huge grassy bowl that offered a fine view from any angle. The calm air was warm and comfortable on that Friday night, mercifully less humid than on its surrounding days.

It was a fantastic show, as masterful and satisfying as I expected it would be. I enjoyed hearing Greg Keelor's unique raspy voice and harmonizing. And Jim Cuddy's still got it: that great head of hair and that unbelievable vocal range. He repeatedly rendered us spellbound not only by hitting those high notes we're used to hearing in songs like Try, but by surpassing them!

I think my favourite performance of the night was delivered when he snuck back to the piano and weaved his melodic mastery on After the Rain. He didn't just sing it, he used his voice as an instrument and delivered a solo performance that was no less mesmerizing than the guitar solo on Diamond Mine or the unexpected piano solo on Five Days in May. I don't know if it was this expression of talent, the syncopated lighting that accompanied it, or my sheer love of that song, but I was quite certain I never wanted it to end!

But eventually, of course, it did. The band finished the evening with the romantic Lost Together that lingered nicely in our minds as we lay back onto the grass relaxing contently as the herd of people filtered out into the parking lot.

On Jazz

There was a time when I liked the idea of jazz more than the music itself. To my untrained and mostly unexposed ear, it always sounded like a disorganised explosion of notes coming from a collaboration of spirited musicians all wanting to do their own thing in spite of one another. Everything I heard as a child, from my Mom's easy listening to my Dad's classical, made melodic sense to my ear. And I understood and appreciated music in general, even spending many years as a piano student with the Royal Conservatory of Music.

In my twenties, I made several concerted attempts to get excited about jazz because to me it was the soundtrack of the charismatic urban existence that decorated my dreams upon moving to Ontario from Labrador just after high school. But I was too much of an ingenue who fell into a state of awe at the turn of every new corner to take any of it seriously. And this was before I even made it outside of Welland's city limits! And just as I couldn't picture myself finding my way around any city with a population greater than the 12,000 back home, I also couldn't properly navigate this complex musical genre. I kept getting tripped up in the mosaic of seemingly unrelated sounds set to a seemingly arbitrary beat that my foot just couldn't seem to follow.

This curious mystification simmered inside of me and has only approached maturity recently. I found myself increasingly seeking out 91.1 Jazz FM, easily intrigued by Ella Fitzgerald and Emilie-Claire Barlow, Oscar Peterson and Frank Sinatra. But it wasn't until I joined the audience of a Ravi Coltrane concert at Brock University several months ago that I learned to really love the style of jazz I mentioned above.

I became drawn in by the passion of the performers, their obvious rapport, their confidence and masterful manipulation of the instruments, their ability to interpret the music as it was being woven. The musician who really made an impression on me was the young man who pivoted on his heels as he danced with his double bass, his raven dreadlocks falling parallel with the strings that were being devoured by his fingers like five-legged spiders. During the post concert interview and question period, his quiet manner free from arrogance was appealing and further revealed himself as a dedicated musician.

During this same interview, Ravi Coltrane talked about how "jazz is not about imitation". He acknowledged that borrowing the standards and learning them note for note, and striving to play in the exact same style as one's idol is an important step in learning the genre. But that eventually, a musician should be courageous enough to venture out on his own to craft something that nobody has ever heard before, trusting that his own voice and ingenuity will resonate with and captivate the audience.

These days, I listen to jazz because I love its intricacies and I believe it is some of the best music for dancing, etc. Even amidst the standards, I frequently pull something new out of it...  and I still become entranced by Coltrane's air of sophistication, even if my foot doesn't always find the beat.

ILLUMINAQUA IN BLUE SEPTEMBER 2, 2011

I thoroughly enjoyed sitting on the grass absorbing the energetic and uniquely artistic Ashley MacIsaac experience. I was close enough to see the strings dancing on the end of his bow and to hear the time keeping pulse of his foot.

His delivery was a little restrained compared to what I was expecting, an opinion echoed by the performer's own acknowledgement of the absence of his previous revealing, kilt-flying antics. But he did not disappoint in any sense of the word. Not only did he and his band explode off the floating stage expertly relaying his stylised version of an already mesmerising musical genre, but he began and ended the show with an intimate and breath arresting solo performance. He proved, especially with the final set depicted in my photo, that he is capable of putting a rock spin on a folk circle.. and also of making his well worn fiddle sing the way it was meant to sing. He started off melodic and mystical and, with the precise timing consistent in Cape Breton music, he increased the tempo and got everyone else's soles helplessly tapping the concrete amphitheatre steps in unison. No drum required.

I should explain that the misty air you see above isn't the by-product of a well-positioned smoke machine nor is it a blush of fog from MacIsaac's birthplace. It made its way to the stage from the many iron pods of fire-burning wood that dot Welland's recreational canal every few Fridays in the summer. The combination of fire, water, music (and another facet that they don't mention in the event's marketing but should: the desirable smell of burning junks of wood!) culminate in a stellar way to spend a summer evening close to home!!

As I was leaning back on my hands in the grass, taking the occasional picture, I kept thinking that I should make my way up against that frame of stone blocks that lined the edge of the bank. I'm so glad I did it for his last set! Perched against the stones with my camera, I was in awe of the reflection cast by the calm canal water that separated me from the stage.

Once Upon a Wine Vault

On the road to Fort Amherst, along the 'other side of the harbour', far below those massive white Irving Oil orbs that I always see from Water Street, there are caves. I counted at least eight of them along the route, unassumingly nestled within the Southside Hills, all sealed up and padlocked and keeping their secrets to themselves. A cave such as the one pictured above would no doubt have quite the flavourful collection of yarns to spin if it could: as the story goes, these caves served as storage for port wine cargo from ships that had been steered off course by pirates back in the 1600's!!

And as romantic and adventurous as it sounds to imagine getting past those derelict, haunting entrances, each one with its own personality, I'm not sure that I would ever have the nerve to venture in, if given the opportunity! But it doesn't matter because one cannot access the halls of these caves. 

But you can get inside The Newman Wine Vaults, located across the harbour on historic, eclectic Water Street. Reportedly among the oldest buildings still standing in St John's, the vault's curved ceilings also looked down upon large batches of port wine. Port was regularly shipped over from Portugal specifically for storage back in the 1800's, and was carried through these doors regularly for years. Now the building is protected and cherished as a Provincial Historic Site, retaining its historic interior but enclosed in a more modern, but stylistically aligned exterior. And it continues to store Newman's Port wine except now it is not stored merely awaiting a return shipment to Europe; it is stored as it awaits individual local purchase, often for immediate consumption!

I was fortunate enough to savour some of this sweet crimson wine for my very own palate when I joined the audience of an intimate and spell-binding evening with The Once. I originally wasn't familiar with the group, but knowing the friends who had invited me to go, it promised to be at the very least, an intriguing evening! But it was kilometres ahead of my expectations. This local folk trio is some of the most unassuming, genuine talent I've ever encountered.. in concert or not.

Andrew, Geraldine, and Phil assembled at the front of the room and instantly commanded the attention of the delightfully modest audience with their authentic instruments, melodic mastery, and vividly haunting lyrics, some original, some traditional. They even weaved a few Leonard Cohen tunes with exquisitely crafted arrangements paying fine homage to songs that have seen more than a few covers over the years.

I remember sitting in that rustic environment, the heels of my boots working their way into the crushed stone flooring as my feet unwittingly tapped away to the beat of the bodhrán, and thinking that a Newfoundland musical experience couldn't get much better than this. Every facet of our environment - the exclusively candlelit lighting, the acoustic and frequent a capella song treatments, the raw brick and stone walls - was wonderfully woven together creating a magic that was only surpassed by the razor sharp harmonies of the performers. Geraldine's lead voice was unbelievably pure, with a delivery that ranged from soft and delicate to fierce and insistent, effectively evoking the range of emotions that is inherently characteristic of Newfoundland music.

But I think the coolest part of the show occured during the performance of one of their own songs, Sail Away to the Sea. Shortly after Geraldine began conveying the lyrics, I began to hear echoes of her words flowing around me. The majority of the audience had obviously heard the song once or twice before and were very much enjoying hearing it performed in their presence. Now I know that it's not unique to be sitting in an audience and hear everyone singing along with the musicians. But it was the band's reaction that blew me away..  these guys were sincerely and utterly enthralled by the treatment...  almost surprised by it! It was, as one of my friends commented, almost as if they were just now realising that they've made it. I wouldn't doubt that everyone else in that dimly lit room knew it too. Artistry as honest as this, and as deeply rooted in Newfoundland as the wine caves in the Southside Hills is real and relevant and deserves to be shared and revered and performed again and again. But you don't have to take my word for it... check them out, and if you have the opportunity to see them live, anywhere, don't hesitate to venture in.

http://www.myspace.com/nowtheonce

Bloor Street, Scallops, and Red Shoes

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

It's fun to think that Holt Renfrew's visual merchandisers knew that we would be strolling by their massive Bloor Street store the day after an intimate evening with Sarah McLachlan and as such, ensured that her contribution was added to their whimsical Accessories Event window display just for us. And even though that is not the case, it was an ordinary little miracle that punctuated a weekend escape to Toronto quite nicely.

Arriving at Massey Hall with mere minutes to spare after feverishly but patiently navigating Friday evening traffic was also a miracle. As I finally relaxed and settled into my well-positioned seat, my own piece of auditory history if only for a few hours, I looked around at the majestic pillars rising out of the burnished wooden mezzanine. My gaze floated upwards and I studied the scalloped beams and soaring ceiling, noticably weathered from, among other things, a century of being tapped and stroked and pounded by every note and chord imaginable.

Sarah's contribution to these auditory archives was delivered with exquisite character and passion, and did not disappoint. She is a true performer, not only when accompanied by instruments and back up vocals (more on that in a moment!), but she is very personable, engaging us by answering questions submitted by the very audience for whom she was performing. I think we were all rooting for the guy who had the courage to ask her out for drinks and was lucky enough to have had his slip of paper find its way into her grasp as she was reaching into her hat for the next question!!

In addition to having the opportunity to bask in the Sarah experience, we were also introduced to three of her backup musicians: Butterfly Boucher, Luke Doucet, and his wife, Melissa McClelland (the engaging owner of the title shoes whose Segovia continues to leave me spellbound, via my iPod) These performers provided an unexpectedly enjoyable addition to an already terrific concert, and it was so refreshing to see a headlining act switch places with her backup singers, and let them shine as she assumed an accompanying microphone. But I suppose it isn't at all a stretch for a musician and lyricist from Canada's East coast who admits to the world (ok, to Toronto) that she is unable to live without music in her life. That's just the kind of person and performer she is!