The night of Wednesday, May 4th, I went to Fat Albert’s open stage, but because the Steelworkers Hall had booked the room to another group, the doors wouldn’t open for us until 21:00, as opposed to the usual time of 19:00. That gave me time to actually have dinner and to even watch an episode of Gunsmoke before heading out at 20:15.
When I arrived,
there were a few regulars gathered in the area where the security guard usually
sits. It looked like there were two large union meetings going on, but they
might have been related. A big, bearded guy in his early middle age and with
tattoos telling an incomplete story that stopped at his rolled up sleeves, came
carrying a box out of the nearest meeting and apologized for bumping our event.
He told us that he plays guitar himself, so he sympathizes. John Stroud,
perhaps in his 80s, was sitting behind the desk, and asked him why he’d never
brought his guitar to Fat Albert’s. The union man explained that he doesn’t
live in Toronto. John asked him if he’d heard of Fat Albert’s before, but he
said that he only remembered an animated television show by that name from when
he was a kid. John told him that Fat Albert’s is the oldest Folk coffee house
in Canada and that this is its 49th year.
The union man dumped the contents of the
box onto the desk, and with the help of a couple of assistants, began counting
ballots. Once the vote had been decided, he laughed when John Stroud said,
“Don’t tell me Trump won!” then he went back into the room.
I noticed that the
sign-in sheet for the open stage was on the desk. I put my name down at around
number ten. Brian Rosen, who was sitting at the desk next to John, remembered
that I’d told him the week before that I was writing a review. He wanted to
know who I write for. I told him newz4u.net. Another guy who I’d never seen
before, a big man who calls himself Dark Cloud wearing a black pork pie hat and
looking something like a slightly younger than Hank Kingsley version of Jeffrey
Tambor, asked me which open stages I review, and wondered if I do the one at
the Free Times. I told him that I didn’t like the Free Times and wouldn’t go
there again. John Stroud wanted to know why I didn’t like the Free Times. I
told him that I think the person who owns the place is a pushy, greedy and
tyrannical control freak. John said that he doesn’t go there either but it’s because
of the open stage and how it’s run without consideration for the performers.
Brian wanted to know if I review people’s CDs but I told him I don’t.
Peter James came in
as the union group were reciting a set of vows. He began to mock them, for some
reason, though out of earshot of the meeting.
They were wrapping
up the union meeting. The bearded guy that seemed to be in charge came out and
gave us what was left over of their pizza and their cardboard encased jugs of
Tim Horton’s coffee. As he addressed the members in the other room, he
encouraged them as they left to thank us for our patience. So as the people,
mostly women, and mostly African Canadian women, came slowly streaming out of a
room we weren’t even waiting to use, most of them did as the shop steward
suggested and apologized for keeping us waiting. I told one woman that said
goodnight that she was welcome to stay, but she told me she’d been there too
long already. Another that I’d invited stopped to ask what kind of music we
play. I said that it was mostly Folk music, but that wasn’t what I do. She
left.
Once we were in our
room, Glen Garry got things started right away without setting up any
electrical enhancements. It was going to be a night without guitar pick-ups or
microphones, and because of the late start we would have only one song each.
As usual, Charles
Winder set the atmosphere with some Spanish guitar. It was a sad, slow and
sombre number that fit well with the close of the day and that evoked the
vision of a tired ride on horseback through the moonlight.
When Charles was
done, Brian Rosen let out a loud whoop of appreciation and Charles walked to
his seat wearing an unfamiliar grin.
The second
performer was Isaac, who was at Fat Albert’s for the first time, but who I’d
heard sing and play at the Tranzac two nights before. Isaac sat down on stage
looking puzzled, then asked if he would be plugging in. Glen told him not
tonight, and that it would be an old fashioned night of music, like New York
City in 1908. Isaac sang – “Oh girl, what did she become, her father, the
beast, he’d sit and drink his rum … he tore off the clothes she would wear …
Now out on the street, she’s making ends meet …
When Isaac was
finished, Glen suggested that since we were unamplified that we move the performance
area off the stage and closer to the audience, for a more intimate set-up. We
agreed, and so the next performer, Wes Ayew (I don’t know if this is how his
last name is spelled) sat in a chair halfway between the stage and the front
row. Like Isaac, Wes was a young guy, probably in his twenties. Unaffected by
the lack of a microphone, with a strong voice, he sang a slow, original song
entitled, “War and Peace” – “ … a history played on repeat … I’m searching for
release from this war and peace … The same disguise covers the truth about fear
… I have cracked through the looking glass to a future born of the past … a
voice can change the world and freedom is in our speech …”
After Wes was Dark
Cloud, who said, “It’s nice to be back at Massey Hall in a sold-out show!”
John Stroud called
back, “You will receive a sitting ovation!”
Dark Cloud laid out
some lyric sheets in front of him and told us that he was going to do a poem
that he wrote eight or nine years ago. When he began to sing, there wasn’t a
lot of volume and so I couldn’t make out much of his lyrics. He got louder as
he warmed up – “I’m looking for a new woman … a woman always within sight … to
love and hug and kiss all night long … Touched by arms of grey fire … When
silence echoes, amplifiers explode …” His song was very very long, with a
repeated chorus about looking for a new woman and several verses of the poem in
between. The song that I planned on doing was about seven minutes long and I
had been slightly worried that the duration might be excessive, but Dark
Cloud’s ditty dragged on for about ten minutes, so I didn’t feel so bad about
mine.
Then it was time
for the feature of the night, Paul Mack. Glen helped him to the performance
chair and Paul directed his guide dog to lie down under it. Paul sat down with
his foot on the leash, but I don’t know if that was intentional or
coincidental. Paul asked if he was facing everyone straight, and when that was
confirmed, he apologized for not having come to Fat Albert’s for the last few
weeks. He added though that the upside of his recent absences would be to make
his repertoire seem fresh.
Paul set up his
first instrumental composition by explaining how the title came about. He told
us that his employment counsellor sent him a message about a potential job at a
place called “Tangled Arts” but his computer’s reading software spoke the name
as “Tangled Darts”, so he thought that would be an interesting name for a
guitar piece he’d written, and then he played it for us. It reminded me of some
of Bruce Cockburn’s instrumental compositions.
Paul’s next piece
was a cover of Sam Beam’s “Naked As We Came” – “ … I’ll keep stealing,
breathing her … one of us will die inside these arms … one will spread our
ashes round the yard …”
Paul told us that he
felt obligated to play a Neil Young song, since Glen referred to him as a
“young” musician in the media announcement for that night, even though he’s
fifty-three years old. He sang “Needle and the Damage Done” – “ … I sing the
song because I love the man, I know that some of you don’t understand, milk
blood to keep from running out …” Paul picked the song in pretty much the exact
same way as Neil does.
Paul’s
fourth offering was a Scottish song that he said was written by Sir Walter
Scott and he said Dick Gaughan called “Jock o’ Hazeldeane”. I think that Paul
must have meant that he’d heard Gaughan sing the song. He didn’t have anything
to do with writing it – “ … A chain of gold ye
shall not lack, nor braid to bind you hair, nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk, nor palfrey fresh and fair. And you, the fairest of them a' shall ride our forest queen.' But aye she loot the tears down la' for Jock o' Hazeldean …” I had to track these lyrics
down later because Paul was singing them in an affected Scottish accent and I
couldn’t figure out most of what he was saying.
Paul then did an Irish song. This one was Tommy Makem’s “Four Green
Fields” – “ … I
had four green fields, each one was a jewel, but strangers came and tried to
take them from me. I had fine strong sons, who fought to save my jewels … my
four green fields ran red with their blood, said she … I have four green fields, one of them's in bondage, in strangers
hands, that tried to take them from me, but my sons have sons as brave as were
their fathers, my four green fields will bloom once again said she …”
For Paul’s last
song he played another of his own original instrumental compositions. He
explained that the title of this one was inspired partly by Stephen King’s
“Dark Tower” and partly by his own memories up until 1999 of having sight. The
piece was entitled “I Still Remember the Face of My Father” and I think it was
Paul’s best offering of the night. It was well composed and he played it well.
I think that Paul
Mack should have only done his own work for his feature at Fat Albert’s. The
two originals that he did play were the most impressive of his set. Of the
covers that he offered us, while sometimes he did an adequate job vocally, he
is a much better guitarist than he is a singer. Of the Neil Young cover, he did
not add anything new to what Young had already done, so he should have left it
alone. An entire set of Paul Mack songs however would have made for a stronger
overall performance.
Returning to the
open stage, we started with Peter James, who did, “Stand Tall”, which could be
considered his signature song – “ … you can’t do it all, it’ll bind you … you
can’t see it all, it’ll blind you …”
Next was Dawn, who
sang and played “One Less Bell to Answer”, which I remember Marilyn McCoo
singing back in the 60s. I’d never really thought about its authorship, but as
I listened to Dawn singing it I could tell that it had Burt Bacharach and Hal
David written all over it, and I was right.
Brian
Rosen followed Dawn, singing Thomas Moore’s “Believe Me, If All Those Endearing
Young Charms”. He told us that Moore’s wife’s face had been badly scarred by
smallpox and had shut herself in to hide her disfigurement. The story goes that
Moore wrote this song and sang it to her in order to draw her out – “Believe
me, if all those endearing young charms, which I gaze on so fondly to-day, were
to change by tomorrow, and fleet in my arms, like fairy-gifts, fading away,
thou wouldst still be ador'd as this moment thou art, let thy loveliness fade
as it will; and, around the dear ruin, each wish of my heart would entwine
itself verdantly still …”
Then Glen called me
to the stage. I told the audience that the last time at fat Albert’s that I’d
done the song that I was going to do it was in another century and it was also
when Fat Albert’s had been in the catacombs deep beneath Bloor Street. I sang
“Instructions for Electroshock Therapy” – “ … We’ll strap their legs and their
arms for shock therapy, they can’t do any harm without their memory, shock
therapy, and if you think someone’s insane then drive some lightning through
their brain, they won’t remember who to blame for shock therapy …” When I was
done, Glen quoted a line from the last verse, “refer to CURRENT literature”,
and because of the play on words told me, “Very good!” I did put that in the
song because of the play on words, but it didn’t come entirely from my
imagination. It actually said, “Refer to current literature” in the manual that
I found, though I doubt if the author of the instructions picked up on the pun
he or she had made.
After me was
another young man, Neil Trotter, who said he was going to do a Neil Young song,
but not the one that Paul Mack had done. I said, “I think he’s written a couple
of other songs.” He sang and played “Winterlong” – “ … You seem to be where I
belong, it’s all illusion anyway … waiting to follow through the dreamlight of
your way …”
Neil was followed by Jean Claude Sendez, who covered,
Gordon Lightfoot’s “Second Cup of Coffee” – “ … If I don’t stop this trembling
hand from reaching for the phone I’ll be reaching for the bottle before this
day is done…”
Next was Paul Nash,
who told us that he was going to do a Buffy Sainte-Marie song. He informed us
that she was banned from airplay in the United States for a few years because
of some of her protest songs. I know that she thinks that she was blacklisted,
it may be true, and I wouldn’t put it past the U.S. government, but Buffy’s
never produced any real evidence to prove her claim. The Sainte-Marie song Paul
did was “Until It’s Time For You To Go”.
I remember seeing
Buffy perform on Canada Day at Harbourfront back in the early 80s, and she was
great. What really stands out in my memory from that concert though was the
young and unknown comedian who opened for her. He was very physical, and did
amazing, sometimes with just his face rather than his voice. I was most
impressed though when he stopped talking to the audience, got down on his
stomach on the stage and began engaging with the little kids that were standing
and watching nearby. I wonder what ever happened to Jim Carrey?
Paul stayed up
front without his guitar and was joined by Carole Parkash. They sang the
Charlie Chaplin, John Turner and Geoffrey Parsons song, “Smile”, the melody of
which was based on Puccini’s “Tosca”, and they interwove it with the Johnny
Mandel and Paul Francis Webster song “The Shadow of Your Smile”. They began
with “Smile”, sang “The Shadow of Your Smile” and ended again with “Smile”.
After Carole was a
young man named Sean Patterson, who told us that he’d just moved to Toronto
from Kingston three days before. He did a very animated and heartfelt
performance of Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic” and even danced a bit as he
played and sang – “We were born before the wind, also younger than the sun … I
wanna rock your gypsy soul, just like way back in the days of old, and together
we will float into the mystic …”
Ruth Jenkins quite
often arrives at Fat Albert’s early, but she seems to deliberately sign up
late. Maybe she likes to think of everyone else as her opening act.
As Ruth was getting
ready to do her song, Glen asked her jokingly if she wanted some piano
accompaniment. She said he could do some air piano if he wanted, and then
suggested that he belly dance. He assured her he could do it and I said that
I’d like to see that.
Ruth decided that
since this was “kind of a home spun night” she’d do a Pete Seeger song. She
sang, ”Where Have All the Flowers Gone”. Pete Seeger did write it, but Joe
Hickerson is the one who arranged the song so it would end where it began. Glen
picked up his guitar and played along, at first while standing off to the side
and then while sitting in his chair. A lot of the audience were singing along.
She gave herself a harmonica lead, opened up a space for Glen to do his stuff
and then finished with a shorter harmonica lead.
When Ruth was done
she thought the night was finished, and was surprised when Glen started
introducing someone else. “What? Someone’s trying to upstage me?” she asked.
Next was Igor, but
Glen pronounced it “Eegor”. We corrected him that it was spoken as, “Eyegor”.
Ruth said “Tomayto, tomahto!” as she left the stage.
Igor sat down to
begin reciting the lyrics to “The Mary Ellen Carter” by Stan Rogers – “She went
down last October in the pouring, driving rain …” But then he stopped and told
us that he couldn’t do it. He started a different poem – “You fill my every
waking hour … I know that you’ll devour me in the end … time … got enough to
fill though we know we never will … time is heavy like a stone … gnaws away
while the moments last for years … time is wasting me … self pity drips like
iodine on this wounded heart of mine …” I couldn’t find this poem in a search,
but I don’t know if Igor wrote it.
Then came Mama D,
who I’d noticed left the room while I was performing. Her song asked the
question, “What are you gonna do with that pain inside of you?”
After Mama D, Glen
asked us to please welcome Glen Garry to the stage. He sang and played Steve
Goodman’s “City of New Orleans”, but in the lines “passing trains that have no
name, freight yards full of old Black men and the graveyards of rusted
automobiles …”, for some reason Glen substituted “tired old men” for “old Black
men”. With a change of two words, Glen put a lot of elderly African Americans
out of work. About halfway through, Ruth came walking up beside Glen, while
playing her harmonica, and she sang along on the last chorus.
Following Glen was
Elizabeth Knowlton, who sang one of her own songs – “ … go under the stars … go
down to the river where everything is ours … Politicians are caught between the
people and the rich, they’re afraid to be J.F.K.d … All of your suffering has
always been to open the door of your heart so you can walk in …”
The next to last
performer was Audrey, with probably an original, since the lyrics didn’t come
up in a search – “No matter the tears life has stolen … it doesn’t matter how
you move from stern to bow … no finer lesson have I than you …”
The final performer
was Zoe Henderson, who only had a guitar to play this time and who told us that
she only knows one song on guitar, so she sang her own “Wallaceberg”. Glen
joined in, and when she forgot the lyrics she gave him a lead break while she
tried to remember them – “ … the wind is picking up outside, it tore that stop
sign down”.
I
think that when I helped stack the chairs, my guitar pick got stacked between
them. I didn’t realize that until I was walking to my bike, but there was no
point going back to look for it. I had a black one at home, though I made a
mental note to replace the purple one as soon as I could.
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