Author: Peter

Sometimes things just fall into place. Take the gorgeous spring day Monday turned out to be after an early-morning thunderstorm: the perfect day to drive home with the windows down, followed by a walk to the Thames and back, all with my music player on random.

The drive home started with Come Sweet Audrey by Barenaked Ladies, which would have gotten my spirits up even if it hadn’t been such a great day. The rest of the short trip was to what I’ve discovered is one of the best driving songs I know: Kristin Sweetland’s O Leander.

Up next, while I swapped my third-generation company jacket for something cooler, was White & Nerdy from Weird Al Yankovic’s new CD; the line I wanna bowl with the gangstas had me chuckling extra hard as I thought of Matt’s story.

By the time I hit the lobby Al’s song had ended and Spirit of the West’s Heavenly Angel came on. While some might consider that a case of iPod whiplash, today it worked: I walked out into the brilliant sun just as John Mann sang the words Heavenly Angel for the first time.

As I approached Galleria, one of my favourite songs by one of my favourite singers started: Saturday Night, by Claire Jenkins. It’s a story song that resonates really strongly, although the specific situation is one that’s foreign to me. Claire’s lyrics say it all: it’s one of the tunes that makes me feel right.

Short, panting, pseudo-canine breaths quickly identified the next selection, Nellie McKay’s The Dog Song. It’s pretty safe to call me a dog person, and her song is one of those pieces I can’t hear without cracking a big dumb grin. I don’t associate the song with the dogs I had growing up — it’s not their style — but it reminds me of all the fun we had with Tags, Blackie and Sandy.

Barenaked Ladies again (Maybe Katie), and Crash Test Dummies (Here On Earth (I’ll Have My Cake)), took me the rest of the way down Dundas Street from the market at a pace to match the upbeat tempo. B.A. Baracus Band’s lo-fi cover of Video Killed the Radio Star got me from the river back to the old courthouse and the new apartments being constructed at King and Ridout.

Lenni Jabour’s New York started as I walked up King past the market. Her snapshot of a late autumn evening in New York City is one in which I find a different meaning or truth almost every time I hear it. It’s ostensibly about Lenni’s experiences of being — and being — in New York City, but it struck me today that it was also about being in London on this early spring afternoon. It’s hopeful, and sad, and comforting, and uplifting.

The Barra MacNeils’ We Celebrate and Melanie Doane’s Waiting for the Tide continued my newly reflective mood until I made it back to the apartment. As I walked up to my building at 6:17pm, with the sun still high above the horizon behind me, I saw an LED sign that showed the temperature to be 22°C.

If this is what spring is going to be like, I’ll take every second of it!

I realized this evening, while watching Loreena McKennitt‘s Nights from the Alhambra, that despite their vastly different musical styles, there are certain elements that she and Lenni Jabour have in common which make them my two favourite musicians.

The main similarity, strangely enough, is also a difference. Both Lenni’s and Loreena’s concerts are what I can best call immersive: their performances are very dramatic, reflective of their backgrounds in the theatre, and all-consuming, from the first note to the last harmonic. Loreena’s has a sense of scale and history befitting her (neo-)traditional music and multi-layered orchestration; Lenni’s, on the other hand, is intimate and charming, as if she’d invited you into her third-floor apartment for tea one afternoon and oh look, all her friends came over to play.

Loreena and Lenni also surround themselves with some of the most talented performers to be found, and both artists have a core group with whom they share a sense of loyalty. Lenni’s got The Third Floor, primarily long-standing neighbours Rosalita Whyte, Drew Birston and Alex McMaster (for whom I must write a post of her own, instead of always mentioning her in passing). Loreena’s mainstays include percussionist Rick Lazar, guitarist Brian Hughes and avant-garde violinist Hugh Marsh (who plays everything from Amazing Grace to Purple Haze to The Swan, and writes great tunes like Little Miss Big Kiss along the way; I’m a fan).

Seems I need to read my email more closely and/or promptly; Saturday’s post was needlessly cryptic, since Lenni had spilled the beans herself last Tuesday:

In more other news, today was the first day in studio recording the long-awaited Lenni Jabour: Greatest Hits. The record will be finished for early summer release. A sneak-peek piece of info: the marvelous Juno-and-Grammy nominated Jane Bunnett lends her particular Cuban-esque sax-magic on our salsa version of Cruel Summer. The record features the amazing Drew Birston on double bass and Mark Mariash on drums, as well as guests Adrean Farrugia (piano) and Michel Vequevevo (percussion)…quel excité, darlings!

This recording is different from Lenni’s previous releases in almost every way, yet at the same time it remains entirely in character and spirit. And if, like me, you can’t wait for early summer, Lenni and Alex McMaster are playing at Heliconian Hall tonight at 8; there will almost certainly be a Greatest Hit or two interspersed among many of Miss Jabour’s own lovely songs.