On the Wednesday evening of June 29th, I headed out for the last Fat Albert’s open stage until September 7th, but probably my last one until the spring of 2017. There was still construction from Bathurst going east along College and so I tried to bypass it by going the wrong direction up a one-way street before Bathurst and then taking the next right, which was a long distance up the street. This turned out to be a long way around, so I would have been better off just walking until I was past the construction.
After locking my bike, I was going up the
walkway of the Steelworkers Hall and saw Andrea Hatala arriving as well. She
was wearing a visor that was tilted very low over her face. I opened the right
door for her but she almost bumped into the left door. I inquired if she could
see with the cap on but she answered that she couldn’t see that well anyway. I
asked, “You’re not legally blind though are you?” She surprised me by informing
me that she actually is legally blind. I have known her for twenty years and I
didn’t know that.
I was not very late, but since this was
the closing party and since there would be food, there was already a longer
list than usual. The earliest number I could take was nine, but it would be one
song each for everyone but the feature this time anyway.
Mary came in and asked for volunteers to
help bring in food from the trunk of the taxi that was waiting in front, so I
went out and hauled in a cartful.
Martin Owen sat beside me and voiced
again his frustrations with psychiatry. I said, “As long as you’re a nomad you
can’t be mad!”
Later he introduced me to his mother. She
seems like a pleasant little old woman, though perhaps a little sad.
John Reid gave me his email address so I
could send him the pictures I took of him the week before, but when I tried a
few weeks later, the email failed. I’ll have to catch him next year.
When it came time to start, Mary Milne
walked to the front to announce the first performer, but she had neglected to
check the list beforehand, so she had to ask someone to look. Someone called
back, “Charles!” and even though Charles Winder has been the first one on stage
almost every Wednesday night for years, she still had to ask, “Charles who?”
Once that was confirmed, she made a comment about that being one of the reasons
this was her last night of hosting.
Charles Winder did a seven minute set of
flamenco guitar, but as usual, didn’t announce the name of the piece he played.
Next up was Dawn, who sang “It Isn’t
Nice” by Malvina Reynolds – “It isn’t nice to block a doorway, it isn’t nice to
go to jail, there are nicer ways to do it but the nice ways always fail … We
have tried negotiations and the three man picket line, but Mr Charlie didn’t
see us and he might as well be blind, now our new ways aren’t nice when we deal
with men of ice, but if that’s freedom’s price, we don’t mind, How about those
years of lynchings and the shot in Evers’ back, did you say it wasn’t proper …
You were quiet just like mice …”
Then we heard from Naomi, reading her
poetry, with John Reid on guitar and Michael Harrington on drums. John played
an original instrumental piece while Naomi read – “Mellow levels that whisper …
dancing the soliloquy … vision of tranquility … the spider unravels her web …
wants to relinquish and capture song … inoculates the symphony … transposed
like a scented reverie … intoxication, you follow me under your veil …”
After Naomi was Martin Owen, who
performed a cover of John Lennon and Paul McCartney’s “All My Loving”. The song
was recognizable because of the lyrics and some semblance of the melody, he
seems to have come up with his own chords and music for the song, and sings it
like a kind of a chant. He certainly has a unique approach to covering a song.
Jean Claude Sendez sang and played Baker
Knight’s “The Wonder of You”.
Glen put another row of chairs in front
of the room, but for some reason left a space, three chairs wide, directly in
front of me.
Following Jean Claude was Brian Rosen,
who surprised my by singing in French, but unlike when Jean Claude sings in
French and I can understand a third of what he’s singing, in Brian’s case I
couldn’t understand almost any of it. At the end of the night I asked him about
it. What he’d sung was a Cajun tune, but I was surprised again when he told me
that he speaks French and learned it while living in France. He told me he
heard the song from the Cajun band Swamperella. I was able to find out the
lyrics and title later. It’s called “Tit Galop Pour Mamou” (Little Dance To
Mamou) and it was written by Dewey Balfa, and the melody would be familiar to
those who’ve heard Joe South’s “Games People Play”, though the Cajun song was
written before the South composition. – “’Tit gallop pour mamou, j’ai vendu mon
‘tit mullet pour quinze sous, j’ai acheté du candi rouge pour les ‘tits, du sucre et du café pour les veux. ’Tit gallop, ’tit gallop pour mamou, j’ai vendu mon ‘tit
wagon pour quinze sous, j’ai acheté
du candi rouge pour les ‘tits, une yard de ruban pour la vielle.” Here’s my
quick rhyming translation – “A little dance took me to Mamou, for fifteen cents
I sold my little mule, I bought some red candy for the kids, coffee for my
friends and sugar too. A little dance took me to Mamou, for fifteen cents I
sold my small barouche, I bought some red candy for the kids, and some ribbon
for their mama too.” When Brian performed it, Glen Gary on the piano and Tom
Hamilton on the violin helped him out. The fiddle certainly gave the piece some
Cajun authenticity. When I spoke to Brian about it, he explained that “mamou”
meant grandmother, and it really kind of sounds like a word that would be used
in French as a nickname for grandmother, but from my later research I found
that it’s not a French, but rather a Native American word. In the song it’s the
name of a town in Louisiana.
Next came Andrea
Hatala, who did one of her own compositions on the piano, as usual – “There’s a
doll in a china shop, the shelf unreachable … she’ll break if she falls …
Consider me untouchable … It’s cold and it’s lonely but it’s better to stay
there than to open new doors … She wants to soar down, but she knows she won’t
catch her fall … She’s not really lonely, she’s only alone.”
There was a
middle-aged woman in the front row with two late teenagers sitting beside her.
Mary pointed out to me that they were her two grandchildren and her daughter in
law.
After Andrea was
Randy, who did his karaoke bit with a CD player. This time he sang along to
“Piece By Piece” by Kelly Clarkson and Greg Kurstin, which he said, applied to
women and mothers as well as men. – “ … piece by piece he collected me … filled
the holes that you burned in me …”
Then Mary went to
the stage, even though it was actually my turn. I think she wanted her
grandchildren to hear her poetry before they left.
She read “Creating A
Monster” – “Take a simple person, look for magic in their glance, Take a simple
case of like and inflate it to possession, with little chance of not being
demolished by what you built … When nothing about your desired other smells
bad, that’s when you know you’re in love.”
I sang my
translation of Serge Gainsbourg’s “Joanna” – “ … Joanna must be from up in
Zamfara, when she is dieting she just eats bananas … Joanna’s a dancehall
barstool connoisseur, when she sits at the bar she takes up three or four, oh
yeah but Joanna, Joanna, Joanna she sure can dance, lightly, lightly …”
Following me were
Tony and Veronica Hanik, with Tom Hamilton joining them as well. Tony told us,
“If Mary Milne and Doc Higgins hadn’t decided to continue Fat Albert’s in 1996,
we wouldn’t be here tonight.” Then they sang Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” – “ …
You say I took the name in vain, well I don’t even know the name, but if I did,
well really, what’s it to ya? There’s a blaze of light in every word, it
doesn’t matter which you heard, the holy or the broken hallelujah …” Veronica
did high harmony and many people were singing the chorus behind me, especially
Honey Novick, and it sounded quite good.
Next was Heinz
Klein, doing one of his own songs with Tom Hamilton – “The sky’s falling …
Think about tomorrow … There’s no one to help you, no one to pull you through …
You move from bar to bar and you wait for the day when it’s gonna be okay …”
Tom took a solo and really got into it.
Mark Russell sang
the Radiohead song, “Creep” by Albert Hammond and Mike Hazlewood – “ … Your
skin makes me cry … You’re so fucking special … But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo …
I don’t belong here. I don’t care if it hurts, I want to have control, I want a
perfect body … I want you to notice when I’m not around …” I should mention
that Mark sang the censored version of the original song.
Mike Weidman did one
of his own songs, and had Tom back him up – “She’s not pretty … Her eyes are
crooked and her teeth are crossed … like a sideshow display … She’s got a job …
She likes her money … Got a brand new used car … She’s just an ugly ballerina …
She’s just like me … In love with a dream and she don’t stand a chance …
Changes direction, but she’s always in the wrong place, Changes her eyes, but
she’s always in the wrong face … She’s never been in love, so she says, but she
don’t miss it, won’t do any good to befriend a magician.”
Then it was time for
Jeff and Debbie Currie, the feature performers who always headline at Fat
Albert’s on the last Wednesday before the summer break. Jeff plays guitar and
Debbie plays bass.
Throughout their set
they alternated between original material and covers.
Their first original
was a Country song written and sung in a 50s style, called “Waiting For Love
And Looking For Me” – “I have been lonely most of my life … I signed up a
website, I hope it will help me to find my soul mate, but it’s like a lottery
that I’m trying to win …”
Their first cover,
sung in harmony, was Gordon Lightfoot’s “Alberta Bound” – “ … the skyline of
Toronto is something you’ll get onto but they say you’ve got to live there for
a while …”
Their second
original was called “Fingerprints On My Heart” – “ … there’s someone still back
here alone in the dark, All that’s left are your fingerprints on my heart …”
The Curries’ second
cover was “Tennessee Flattop Box”, which is thematically similar to Chuck
Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode”, but the lyrics are basically a life support system
for the little guitar hook between verses.
Next they did
another song they wrote together called “Not Enough Heaven” – “We struggle
through our days and we worry through our nights about things we don’t have the
answer to … Every day it’s a fight for basic human rights … There’s not enough
heaven for what we’re going through …”
To sing their cover
of Travis Tritt’s “Put Some Drive In Your Country”, Debbie joked that she
should have worn her leather chaps – “ … I made myself a promise when I was
just a kid, I’d mix southern rock and country, and that’s just what I did …
Damn, I miss Duane Allman, I wish he was still around …”
Jeff and Debbie had
planned on doing two more songs, but they were told they had only time for one,
so they played Mary Milne’s favourite: “California Dreaming” by John and Michelle
Phillips – “ … You know the preacher likes the cold, he knows I’m gonna stay …”
Tom played violin and sang on this one.
The Curries put on a
professional show and though their covers do not have new and interesting
arrangements, they are made somewhat unique by Debbie Currie’s vocals. She has
a very good, husky voice that rings like a nostalgic siren call to a long gone
era. Jeff is a good guitarist and the husband and wife team harmonize well with
their vocals. Their own songs are all right, but most of them don’t have the
same umph that the covers they do. “Not Enough Heaven” is probably the only one
of their own compositions that could, if promoted professionally, possibly move
upwards on a Country and Western sales chart. They would also probably have
more success with a fuller band behind them. Debbie’s bass playing is merely
adequate but somehow I doubt if she would give up playing the bass in their
shows.
At this point a cake
and a card was brought out to honour Mary’s years of service to Fat Albert’s.
She repeated, as she often does when telling the story of how she became the
hostess, that she did not volunteer. She had asked who was going to host, and
the organizers just said, “Why don’t you do it?” Mary was also surprised to
find out from Glen that she had not actually been the mistress of ceremonies
there for twenty years, as she’d thought, but rather twenty-five years.
Continuing with the
open stage, first up was John Stroud, who sang a cover of Paul Simon’s “Sounds
of Silence”, with a lot of people in the audience singing along on the chorus –
“ … my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light that split the night and
touched the sound of silence … Fools said I you do not know that silence like a
cancer grows … But my words like silent raindrops fell and echoed in the wells
of silence …”
Next was Elizabeth
Block, who usually doesn’t use a microphone, but because there were so many
people in the room, Honey Novick called out and encouraged her to use the
microphone.
Elizabeth sang
acapella “The Word of God” by Catherine Faber – “ … We gaze upon creation where
erosion makes it known, and count the countless aeons in the banding of the
stone, Odd, long vanished creatures and their tracks and shells are found where
truth has left its sketches on the slate below the ground … Long ago when
torture broke the remnant of his will, Galileo recanted, but the earth is
moving still … By stem and root and branch we trace, by feather, fang and fur,
how the living things that are descend from those that were … We are kin to
beasts, no other answer can we bring, the truth has left its fingerprints on
every living thing … And we who listen to the stars or walk the dusty grade or
break the very atoms down to see how they are made or study cells or living things,
seek truth with open hand, the profoundest act of wisdom is to try to
understand …”
As usual, Bridget
sang one of her own songs, with the help of Tom Hamilton – “All the things that
really matter are left unsaid … they’re jumbled inside my head … We can
reconcile, though it’s been a while …”
Carole Farkash and Paul Nash, instead of
singing one song, sang a medley of short snippets of several songs made famous
by the Everly Brothers: “Bye Bye Love”, “Love Hurts”, “Love of My Life” and
“All I Have To Do Is Dream” by Felice and Boudleaux Bryant; “Crying In The
Rain” by Richard Greenfield and Carole King; “When Will I Be Loved” by Phil
Everly; “Till I Kissed You” by Don Everly; and “Let It Be Me” by Mann Curtis
and Gilbert Bécaud.
Mary
commented that she saw the Everly Brothers three times but they played and sang
like machines.
Michael
Hooper played his song with help from Bob Cohen on ukulele and Tom Daniels on
bass. He introduced the song with a story about how after moving to Montreal in
1969, he lived downstairs from a gentleman named Jessie Winchester, in whose
band Bob Cohen later went on tour.
Michael
sang Winchester’s “Yankee Lady” – “I lived with decent folk in the hills of old
Vermont, where what you do all day depends on what you want … She rose each
morning and went to work, she kept me with her pay, I was making love all night
and playing guitar all day …”
Mary
introduced Glen Gary as, “The poor pitiful soul that I am deserting!”
Glen
brought up Bob Cohen, Tom Daniels, Tom Hamilton, Wayne neon on flute and Ruth
Jenkins on harmonica, as he once again played “Mystery Train” by Junior Walker.
Everyone
stayed on stage for Jillian Barrisford’s song, but Bob Cohen and Wayne Neon.
She brought up Elizabeth Knowlton and gave her and Ruth Jenkins each a lyric
sheet so they could sing along with K.D. Lang’s “Wash Me Clean” – “Swim through
my veins, drown me in your rain …” Jillian sang with a voice very similar to
that of K.D. Lang.
Bob
Allen had help from the two Toms, plus Glen Gary on piano when he sang and
played “North To Alaska” by Mike Phillips.
Lillian
Kim was accompanied by the two Toms on a brand new original song – “Could you
take back the words that you say, and let your mind get in the way … I wish I
could go back to ask you to stay …” At this point, Tom dropped his bow “ …
Where are you now? Can you start a new start …” She stretched out the song to
give Tom Hamilton two solos “ … lies that pull things apart …”
Marianne
Peck was about to begin her set, with help from Glen and the two Toms, when a
woman announced that she’d just discovered it was John Stroud’s 95th
birthday. After the applause, Marianne sang Ian Tyson’s “Four Strong Winds”.
Vicky,
who had complemented my song “The Next State of Grace” a couple of weeks
before, read her poem, “Fractile Flashbacks” – “Purple velvet jackets … burnt
bra liberated … pink nipples … Moving in the wind of a new age, curved air
breeze … Phantasmagorical demonstrations … Marmalade skies … Your astral
projection floats above the place where you sleep … Boutique bohemian …”
Isaac
Bonk was called to the stage, but he was gone, so that meant it was Glen
Hornblast’s turn. Tom Hamilton and Wayne Neon joined Glen, who stood to play
for the first time that I remember.
Glen
reminisced briefly about the old days at Fat Albert’s. He said, “Mama D was
there, but she wasn’t called Mama D then.”
Glen
sang a variation of a Van Morrison song in honour of Mary’s retirement – “Have
we told you lately that we love you …” Tom Daniels joined in halfway through.
Tom Hamilton’s mic dropped and was dangling from its chord, so he knelt forward
to play his violin for the remainder of the song.
Neil
Trotter, with his guitar and harmonica and with help from Tom Hamilton, sang
“Strange Boat” by Anthony Thistlewaite and Michael Scott – “We’re sailing on a
strange boat, heading for a strange shore … carrying the strangest cargo that
was ever hauled before. We’re sailing on a strange sea, blown by a strange wind
… carrying the strangest crew that ever sinned … We’re living in a strange
time, working for a strange goal … turning flesh and body into soul.”
Jim
Amar, with the two Toms, sang Robbie Robertson’s “The Weight”, while Veronica
Hanik sang harmony from her seat in the audience.
Peter
James, with his guitar and the two Toms, sang “We Are The People Our Parents
Warned Us About” by Jimmy Buffet – “I was supposed to have been a Jesuit priest
or a naval academy grad … I couldn’t fit the part, too dumb or too smart … When
they tried to draft me, I earned a college degree … I got a guitar, found a job
in a bar, played acid rock till I was numb, tell me where are the acid
flashbacks they all warned us would come. We are the people they couldn’t
figure out, we are the people our parents warned us about. Hey, hey, Gardner
McKay, take us on the leaky Tiki with you … Don’t tell me I ought to get
rolfed, cause I love Cajun martinis and playing afternoon golf …”
Wendy
Chairnstrom invited Tom Hamilton to accompany her as she sang Joni Mitchell’s
“A Case Of You”. She began to sing but Tom just stood there without playing.
About halfway through she urged him to play, but he said that it was fine as it
was. I wonder if he just couldn’t find a way a way in without other musicians
playing along – “Just before our love got lost you said, ‘I am as constant as
the northern star’ and I said, ‘Constantly in the darkness, where’s that at? If
you want me I’ll be in the bar’. On the back of a cartoon coaster in the blue
TV screen light, I drew a map of Canada, Oh Canada … I could drink a case of
you, darling and still I’d be on my feet … I’m frightened by the devil and I’m
drawn to those that aint afraid
Wayne Neon reunited
the two Toms and Glen Gary after their long hiatus from the stage. In
introducing his song, he began speaking of “caustic regret and bitter
recriminations” and then he broke a string.
Glen – “Is there a
guitar in the house?”
Wayne – “It would be
a remarkable coincidence if there were another guitar in the house!”
Glen – “It needs to
have six strings, parallel to one another!”
Jim Amar offered his
guitar.
From Wayne’s song –
“She had a 67 Mustang … I spent my whole life working on a single job, the
company folded up when the shit hit the fan, they cancelled my pension and my
medical plan … I paid my taxes, I had to get the government to get off my back
… What was I thinking …”
Scott Rogers did
some good picking on Scott Mayhew’s “It’s A Sin To Tell A Lie” – “ … Be sure
it’s true when you say, ‘I love you’. It’s a sin to tell a lie …”
Mama D enlisted Tom
Hamilton’s help on her song – “Hung up in Texas, strung out in Tennessee …
Poison really got me good … The only thing I cared about is this guitar in my
hand … The only place I wanna be is never comin down …”
Glen told us that
everybody needed to play their songs at 78 rpm in order for us to finish in
time. He mentioned the song “Start Movin”, as sung by Sal Mineo in 1957.
Ruth Jenkins came to
the stage with the two Toms, and suggested they do a “mindless jam”. Glen came
up, saying, “I hear my name being called!” and went to the piano. Ruth did “You
Can’t Always Get What You Want” by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards – “ … I went
down to the demonstration, to get my fair share of abuse … I saw her today at
the reception, in her glass was a bleeding man …”
Brian Wilcott sang
an original song about the music industry – “ … You won’t be sad if you like
the way she wiggles … Mrs. Giggles, she laughs … Look, there’s Giggles on the
bench … It’s a rock and roll morning.”
Audrey, with Tom
Daniels on bass and Wayne Neon on flute, sang Sarah McLachlan’s “In The Arms Of
An Angel” – “ … Memories seep from my veins, let me be empty, oh, and
weightless … Fly away from here, from this dark, cold hotel room, and the
endlessness that you fear. You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent
reverie … The storm keeps on twisting, keep on building the lies that you make
up for all that you lack …”
The final performer
of this final Fat Albert’s until September was Elizabeth Knowlton. She invited
the two Toms to help her on her original song, while Glen sat in the front row,
recording her with his phone – “I’m too rough for you hon … I see too much … I
play for keeps … Just don’t believe what you hear on the news … You don’t wanna
know where I’ve been, you don’t with matches around gasoline … It’s expensive
in here, but the pleasure it’s deep and you’re too cheap.”
After helping put
the chairs away, I went over to Mary and gave her a big hug.
I left the building
with Carole Farkash and Mary. Carole told me she like the African song I did
and told me to do more. I told Carole I had a name for her duo with Paul: “Nash
and Farkash”, but Mary said, “Farkash and Nash” would be better. I thought
about it for a second and agreed. I’ve
heard someone that they thought Carole is a retired professor, but I don’t know
in what field.
As I was riding home along Dundas, there was a panic
of sirens and the other side of Bathurst was stuffed with fire trucks as a
thick stream of black smoke was punching out of the side of a building just a
block or so in. I went south to avoid the mess and a hundred meters later dove
into a thick choking wall of sooty air. It was still there as I turned on
Queen, and it was only after riding several blocks west that I was free of it.
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