Bell Orchestre
Luminato Festival. Harbourfront Centre. June 13, 2009.
And all at once, it felt like summer had arrived. Maybe part of it was just making the trek down to Harbourfront, but it just felt seasonally adjusted outside. Harbourfront was pretty packed — Luminato crowds out for Cirque de Soleil and gourmet food booths lining Queen's Quay. Met up with J. & J. and we went for some fancy ice cream before winding our way over to the stage and finding ourselves some spots. Although we were there in good time, the seating area was filling up quickly, with a not-unusual Harbourfront mix of people there to see the band and people hanging out just because there's something free coming up — plus a healthy dose of people who'd came down to see Québecois circus performers and thought this might be part of the Cirque programme.
Things were running a little behind schedule, and by about ten past seven the crowd was clapping and calling for the show to start. J. & I killed time by exchanging Angel Riots jokes, and eventually a pair of Cirque performers led the VIPs onstage. Indicating that this wasn't just your usual night out at Harbourfront, the show was preceded by some speechifying from the heads of Harbourfront and Luminato and the Mayor in person, who went on to mutually admire each other. After putting a pitch in for everyone to call their councillor and get them to vote for the Queen's Quay revitalization, hizzoner introduced the band, somewhat misguidedly — to their later delight — suggesting that everyone get up and dance.
Bell Orchestre took the stage running seven deep and played for about seventy minutes. Their swelling brand of indie rock played with symphonic tools was a good fit for the venue, giving a chance to enjoy moments of both quiet ambiance and rousing crescendos. It might have helped that right as they hit the stage, my drugs kicked in,1 but I was in a good frame of mind to lean back and soak it in. The band was attentive to their arrangements, but relaxed enough to not make it feel too stiff. They took some pains to try and get the audience involved and clapping — and by the end, when the tempos picked up, even dancing.
Meanwhile, after the first number, a certain segment of the crowd grudgingly accepted that this concert wasn't going to include leotard-clad clowns leaping from trapezes and fled the joint. But the seats were quickly filled up by those more keen on the music, including a family that settled in in front of us. Dad was really into the music, and Mom had the Younger Brother on her lap, leaving Older Brother, about seven or eight, to squirm around and see me as an object of interest.
"Hi!" he shouted. I nodded.
"Hi!" and he shouted something else. I gave a vague 'can't quite hear you shrug', so he shouted it again louder. I turned my head and tapped at my ear.
"Oh," he said brightly, "you're wearing earplugs!" And in one of those brilliant bursts of kid logic, he stuck his fingers in his ears, squinted his eyes and shouted "HELLO!" at me. He was honestly confused as to why I'd want the music to be quieter, not louder, and seemed convinced I couldn't hear anything at all.
Such is part of the experience at Harbourfront, just like the party boats going past, booming their music. One big boat going by actually stopped for a few minutes, the decks filled with people standing and listening to the show. The final number was especially affecting, the strings and horns playing off each other just so, evoking a sort of etherial melancholy, well matched by the kid in front of me, who was now a little tuckered out and feeling a bit cranky and ready to leave. The band put down their instruments and left the stage to a looping ambient swirl, before being called back for one more. A hightly enjoyable show, and hopefully the first of many at Harbourfront this summer.
Listen to a song from this set here.
Postscript: in a tidy bit of synchronicity, we ambled away from Harbourfront after the show, and made our way north looking for some eats. Getting out of the subway at St. George, who should be headed into the station but hizonner himself? Small world.
1 On my way down to the Waterfront, I'd stopped in to visit A.'s cat while he's out of town for the weekend. Though I quite like the wee beastie, my allergies came on strong, and by the time I was at Harbourfront I was red-eyed and sneezey, so I popped a pill for it, which always puts a pleasant downer effect on me — "non-drowsy", my ass. Good for langourously focusing on the show at hand, but it put a real crimp in my plans to operate heavy machinery later on in the evening. There'll aways be other tractor pulls, I guess.
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