Month: July 2005

I don’t like Idol

Despite my best efforts to avoid the program in every respect, in the last few days I’ve had two unrelated Canadian Idol experiences:

First, a guy named Shane opened at El Mocambo on Thursday night; apparently he was a finalist on the show a while ago, and his cadre of middle-aged female screamers were out in full force. He’s got a reasonable voice, I’ll grant that, but reeked of the lounge-lizard banter and vocal stylings that typify the program for me.

Second, this evening I received e-mail on one of my dormant accounts soliciting votes for a current contestant so she won’t be bumped from the show this week, complete with a logoed wallpaper image so I can be advertised at all day from my very own computer screen. Thanks, but no thanks.

Go John Go!

Friend and coworker John is competing in today’s Lake Placid Ironman.

Looks like a good first 5:30; I’m sure he’s immensely pleased to have the swim behind him (under his last posted training time, no less), and from the first split I think he’s pretty close to his speed target on the bike leg.

The bike is over, nothing left but to run. By my math his average speed over the last leg was just over 29 km/h, which must be pretty good if it let him overtake 200 people!

Missed the run split and the finish, but now the result’s there for all to see: 11:57:04, which sounds darn good to this couch potato. Congrats on m-dot #1, John!

Garden State

I just finished rewatching Garden State, as well as the combined commentary by writer/director/star Zach Braff and Natalie Portman. It’s a great movie: Braff’s got a real gift for storytelling, and he and Portman hit just the right notes developing their characters’ relationship.

It’s also a film I’d love to recommend to a particular friend, except for the fact that the core event of the story is far too close for comfort to an experience in her own life. Perhaps it’s just a matter of introducing it properly beforehand so it’s not a shock, or maybe I’m worrying too much on her behalf; either way, I haven’t mentioned it so far, and given the time of year I’m not going to broach the subject for at least a couple of months.

Day off

I do not really like vacations. I much prefer an occasional day off when I do not feel like working. When I am confronted with a whole week in which I have nothing to do but enjoy myself I do not know where to begin. To me, enjoyment comes fleetingly and unheralded; I cannot determinedly enjoy myself for a whole week at a time.

Hot town, Sunfest in the city

Sunfest is one of the great free festivals in London, and this year’s 11th edition had as good a world-music and jazz lineup as I’ve seen. Alfredo Caxaj and the rest of the organizing committee deserve a lot of kudos for bringing in acts as diverse as The Mighty Popo (fresh from his Live8 performance in Barrie), stride piano virtuoso Michael Kaeshammer, madcap circus jazz group L’Orkestre des Pas Perdus, and Scottish-Latin mergers Salsa Celtica to name but a few. Apparently Saturday’s performances generated the largest attendance for any event in Victoria Park ever, no small feat when you consider the draw of the ten previous Sunfests, 30+ Home County Folk Festivals, and events like Queen Elizabeth’s 1997 visit.

Another indication of the wide-ranging audience the festival brings in: I actually saw people I know at a London festival. (In the crowd, that is, since I’m friends with several performers who show up at the Home County Folk Festival.) I ran into at least four people from work, plus always-friendly Stephanie G. (with her boyfriend) and Jessie S., a once-close friend who I last saw two years ago almost to the day.

With the bouquets come some brickbats, unfortunately. The first is for the sound tech at the jazz stage (a well-known local musician whose name I won’t print) who gifted the amazing Michael Kaeshammer trio with not one but two full non-consecutive sets of constant, loud, high-pitched feedback. (That also led to the funniest moment of the weekend, though: bassist Marc Rogers doing some subtle editorializing with a vamp on the theme to The Mickey Mouse Club during the second set’s extended sound check.) The same tech also neglected to turn on the trumpet mics for at least two sets that I was present for; with Duane Andrews’ group the problem was fixed by the third song—too late for the folks at the back to hear the nice muted solos, sadly—but it took at least half of l’Orkestre’s set to give Maxime St-Pierre sufficient volume to hear him at all over the rest of the brass group.

The second big raspberry is for the total disdain the administrative body for the city of London has for the arts, shown by two facts:

  • City council sponsored the festival with $7000, which happens to be the exact amount they charged for renting the park.
  • Council issued a permit allowing the Pride Parade to encircle the park in the middle of today’s festival performances.

Just as the François Bourassa trio was starting into a nice, quiet piece, around the corner of Richmond and Central came the deafening noise of a gay pride anthem from the lead float… and when it passed, another blaring song from the next float… and again, and again. Only after a full third of the trio’s alloted time had been wasted were the streets quiet enough to continue, and even then there was a constant stream of people walking through the area in front of the stage while the band played. Emcee Barry Woodey apologized profusely to the trio and exhorted the crowd to express their displeasure to the city councillors who approved the obvious conflict. Mayor Anne Marie DeCicco, Deputy Mayor Tom Gosnell, and Councillors Rob Alder and Joni Baechler are going to get a few well-deserved earsful tomorrow morning.

(In case it’s not evident from the above, my problem is with the stupidity of council’s approving a parade route that brought the parade by the park, not with the Pride organizers having a parade in the first place. There’s more reason now to celebrate gay and lesbian freedom than any time in the country’s history, so good on them!)