On the night of Monday, May 16th, it was raining around the time I would normally get ready to go to the Tranzac. I checked the weather forecast online and saw that it was predicted that it would rain from 21:00 to 23:00. I decided that I really didn’t want to get wet on the way there, even if it wouldn’t be raining on the way home at midnight. I tried to call Cad to let him know that I wasn’t going, but I didn’t feel like leaving a message. I figured he’d notice that I’d called and call me back anyway. At about 21:20 the rain stopped. I was all dressed to go and my guitar was packed anyway. It looked like the sky had filled its quota early, so I headed out.
Cad was outside the
Tranzac chatting with No MSG. I went inside to sign up and then sat with Andrea
Hatala. Erik Sedore was at the next table. Sara Greene was the host for the
night, but she arrived late, saying that she’d had a “bad headache”. I said,
“As opposed to a good headache.” Then I went into a shtick about pleasurable
maladies. “I’m really enjoying this backache! I’m ecstatic over my ulcer!”
Andrea added, “What about your pain in the ass?” I answered, “Cad’s just
outside!”
I asked Erik about
his job and whether he was saving money. I found out that his goal is to buy a
house in Thunder Bay and to try to find employment there for only three days a
week.
Cad came in with
the intention of sitting at my table, but first of all he had to change chairs.
All the chairs in the Southern Cross bar are of the same design, but some have
a shallow cushion attached. He went to get one of the cushioned chairs and
explained that, “the other one is …” I finished his sentence, “anti-Semitic?”
“Yeah!” he confirmed.
Cad was wearing a
sweatshirt with black and white horizontal stripes. I told him that he looked
like he’d escaped from jail.
The open stage
started about half an hour late, and because of that Sara didn’t sing an
opening number.
We started with
Dark Cloud, who sang one of his own with the title, “Made In Canada”. He
started singing and playing but the guitar was way too loud, so Sara turned it
down. The song lists several things that have been taken from him – “ … I’ve
lost most everything that was most dear to me … but never did I lose my love
for rock and roll …” dark Cloud told us that he wrote the song in Leamington,
Ontario. Someone said, “Heinz Ketchup!” Andrea added, “French’s now!” Dark
Cloud declared, “Things have changed!”
In setting up his
second song, Dark Cloud talked about walking on Bleaker and the other streets
of New York where he told us he’s been many times. One day while walking he
thought he heard someone calling his name, so later in his hotel room he wrote
this song. He said it was called “He Said” and then he informed us, “This is a
poem.” That seemed like an odd thing to say, since all song lyrics are by
definition poetry because they are compositions in verse. “I love this poem and
I have to sing it the way I wrote it.” From the song – “ … I kissed a big oak
tree … I was laughing … I was rambling on a train through Ohio, I asked the
engineer where we all go from here, he said don’t worry, next town we all disappear
… I found America and nothing is free … I was skipping rope on 42nd
Avenue (I assume he meant 42nd Street, as I don’t think there’s a 42nd
Avenue in New York City) … This city aint the same when the sun stops shining …
I was viewing the big silver screen at Times Square … joints passed around,
silence was the sound … He said New York City is a celebration …”
After Dark Cloud
was Robert Labell. Robert said, “I’m just gonna mic the guitar.” Sara
responded, “I think it sounds better that way!”
I noticed that Tom,
the sombre looking bartender, who I’ve heard is a comedian, was back, and the
pretty bartender was gone.
Robert’s first
offering was “William Powell” by Leo Kottke.
As usual, Robert
had a video camera mounted on a front table to capture his performance. He
explained that he does this to coach himself and that it’s an amazing education
to watch one’s own performance in order to see what needs to be improved upon
or what worked.
Robert’s second
cover was another Leo Kottke composition, which he’s done before there, called
“Mona Ray”.
Then came Andrea
Hatala, who went to the piano. She moved the piano bench, which Robert had been
using at centre stage, back to the piano, and said that the Tranzac has a
really nice piano bench. “It does?” asked Sara. Andrea said that it was nice
because it was cushioned. I said to Cad, “Their piano bench isn’t anti-Semitic
either!”
Andrea sang –
“Walking on the bridge over Cedarvale Valley … I wish you could be here with me
…”
Her second song was
“The Bridge”, which was about bridging the communication gaps caused by fear
and doubt in a relationship.
Following Andrea
was Steven Lewis, and his first song was entitled “One”- “ …like dust on a
memory … in a heartbeat you can change my life …”
Steven’s last song was
“Cold Cold Heart” – “ … I sing a song for you that would last forever … a
summer’s dance before that cold came through …”
Next was John P.,
who told us that he’d always wanted to write a hurtin’ song, so he wrote one
while standing in the car license line up – “Well they say you hurt the one you
love, so you must love me a lot … You tried to make me bleed … but you bled
first … I don’t have a script for a life I forgot to rehearse … I really hate
to leave you and I don’t know why, I guess I hate to see you fight with any
other guy …”
From John’s second
song – “ … Flirting’s not a crime, but would it be so bad if you told them your
mind.
The sixth performer
was John’s friend Chas with his electric steel guitar. I didn’t recognize Chas
at first because he was wearing a fedora. Last year it was always John wearing
the fedora but now John had on a black toque.
Chas took a moment
to tell us that there was, “something about this room that has a really good
vibe tonight!”
Chas’s plan was to
improvise, but he offered us a possibility that what he did would “maybe be a
gospel medley, or something else”.
He began with a
slow slide that did have a blues or gospel feel to it. Then he distinctly
started playing “Amazing Grace.”
For his second
piece, Chas asked John to precisely time him for two minutes and 47 seconds. He
put heavy reverb on his instrument and played it with both hands picking at the
centre, creating an effect that was both scratchy and spacey, like one might
imagine an extraterrestrial language. John gave him a five second warning and
he finished.
I offered Chas a
name for the piece: “Alpha Centaurian Love Music”. He said he’d take it.
Andrea had already
excused herself and left, then just as Eric Sedore was taking the stage.
To introduce his
song, Erik felt the need to read us an excerpt from the autobiography of Rick
James – “When I got on stage I saw Prince watching me … A week later … that
Prince cat is copying all your licks … Prince was emulating my Funk moves like
a motherfucker … His band was a bunch of snobs … We had a Come To Jesus meeting
… I figured I’d be the mature one … You’re stealing my shit … He said his band
was preoccupied … I left without shaking hands …”
Erik told us that the first song he would
do, which he’d written just the day before, was from the perspective of Rick
James, and its name was “The Funk Sign” – “I was backstage at the concert when
Prince flashed my Funk sign …What’s mine is mine … We had a meeting at his
hotel … I told him quit or I’d make him cry like doves cry … But he was
stealing my moves again the very next night … It’s hard to watch the next
generation pass you by … I’m not myself sometimes … At a party with my mother,
she asked for his autograph … He said he’d pass … I wanted to kick his little ass.”
When Erik had finished the song, I asked
him, “What is the funk sign?” He said he didn’t know, though he’s been Googling
like crazy to find out.
When I got home I did a search as well.
What I tried is to type the words “Rick James hand gesture” and then to look in
Google Images. Of all the images that came up, the most frequent gesture I saw
Rick James making was the sign of the horns with the hand facing forward, the
thumb and middle fingers folded and the index and pinkie fingers extended.
There was no text to confirm that that was what he considered the “Funk sign”
to be, but he sure used it a lot.
Erik told us that his second number was a
generic folk song about labour rights with the title, “Space Monsters from
Jupiter” – “They only gave me one job on the space station … Swarms of monsters
… They lay their eggs in your chest … There was a big reward for who ever got
one first … I put on my spacesuit … I got lost in the dark .. They caught me
and brought me to see the queen, she spoke to me telepathically … We had more
in common than I thought. We both hated my boss. She gave me an egg and told me
to get lost … It attached itself to his face, and I said, is it a bad time to
ask for a raise?”
Next, it was my turn. I began with “Hang
Up a Ham and a Fiddle in Your Window”, which is my translation of Serge
Gainsbourg’s “Un Violon, Un Jambon”. That didn’t go over disastrously.
My second effort was my song “Paranoiac
Utopia” – “ … I tap politely on the barrier gate, but am riddled with
accusations, as the writhing, blinded beast defends itself from the mirror of
my patience …” I screwed up the chords horribly, especially on the last verse,
which I excused myself and repeated halfway through. I have found that I can’t
seem to get much volume out of my voice while singing that song, perhaps
because the lyrics of each verse are all one phrase and so I don’t have time to
catch my breath. I was disappointed in my performance, but as I left the stage,
John P. gave me a positive response. I decided that I would definitely do the
same song next week so I could give myself a chance to get it right.
The final musician of the night was
instrumental guitarist, Ian. He was wearing a black toque just like the one
John was wearing. I wanted to ask them if they worked on the same dock, but I
didn’t find an opportunity.
Ian started with a classical type piece
that he said was recently written, entitled “A Deeper Fullness”.
Ian’s final composition, and the last
performance of the night, was called “The Ancient Architects Rejoice”. It was a
slower number, played with lots of harmonics.
It was almost half an hour after
midnight. Cad had already left so he could catch the last bus. Erik and I
walked to Bathurst and Bloor together, discussing comedy. I told him that he
could easily take some of his songs to the open mic at a comedy club. I asked
him if he’d ever heard of Steven Wright. He said that I wasn’t the first person
to compare him to Steven Wright. I told him that I didn’t think his writing was
like Wright’s, but just that I thought he might like him. Because Erik is young
enough to be my son, we don’t share the same cultural references, but I told
him about another comedian named Emo Philips and recited one of his jokes – “My
girlfriend complained that I never opened the car door for her. It’s true. I
just opened my side and swam to the surface.” Erik liked that one.
We said goodnight.
There was a thick mist rising from the Christie
Pits as I rod e past. It was a Christie mist.
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