Recording: Tasseomancy

Artist: Tasseomancy

Songs: Missoula (feat. Brodie West) + Jimi Infinity

Recorded at Toronto Public Library – Yorkville Branch (Live in the Stacks), April 29, 2017.

Tasseomancy - Missoula

Tasseomancy - Jimi Infinity

It brings me great joy to see the Library's program of presenting live local musicians in the stacks continues. I last dropped into the lovely Yorkville branch to see Jennifer Castle play, and this set from Tasseomancy felt like it was connected by some sort of thread. Not only in the presence of their common guest-stars Brodie West (alto sax) and Ryan Driver (flute), but also in the sort of drifting travelogues and domestic details they feature in their songs. I hadn't seen the band play for a while, since the songs from last year's Do Easy album were making their way into their live set. By now Sari and Romy Lightman have a firm-but-relaxed grip on the material (just as the philosophy of "do easy" might suggest) and there's a surprising amount of lushness coming from the pair and collaborator Evan Cartwright.

Recording: Tasseomancy

Artist: Tasseomancy

Song: Blue Crystal Fire [Robbie Basho cover]

Recorded at The Silver Dollar Room, January 23, 2015.

Tasseomancy - Blue Crystal Fire

Playing as a trio sans keyboards, Tasseomancy kept their night-opening set at the shorter end, but still managed to conjure up the right mood as the mystical yin to the evening's glamrock yang. This Robbie Basho tune has been in their setlists for a little while now, and feels right at home next to their own material.

Recording: Tasseomancy

Artist: Tasseomancy

Song: Wiolyn^*

Recorded at Jam Factory ("Feast In The East 40"), August 14, 2014.

Tasseomancy - Wiolyn

Full review to follow. It's quite fascinating to watch Tasseomancy continue to evolve — while Sari and Romy Lightman continue to be the driving spirits behind the project, growing roles for drummer Evan Cartwright and keyboard player Johnny Spence are expanding the sonic possibilities. This one has a witch-y Stevie Nicks sort of feel, which is then taken in an inneresting direction by Cartwright's spoken bridge.

^* Thanks to a commenter for passing along the title to this!

Recording: Tasseomancy

Artist: Tasseomancy

Songs: Black Milk + What Life Must I Lead?

Recorded at The Drake Underground ("Elvis Monday: Dorian's Birthday"), January 6, 2014.

Tasseomancy - Black Milk

Tasseomancy - What Life Must I Lead?

Full review to follow. Although Sari and Romy Lightman have kept up work on their band in between bursts of touring the world (as members of Austra), I hadn't checked in for a little while, so it was exciting to realize that they had not only a setlist chock full o' new tunes, but have actually put some of them out there on an already sold-out tape release, which I can only imagine will also form the spine of their next album. Musically, it seems like they've let the sunshine in a little bit on the new tracks compared to the goth-gloom that pervaded Ulalume, with a corresponding brightening of their sonic palette. They've been experimenting with steel drums for a while now, but Evan Cartwright's deployment of them here really gives these songs a distinct feeling.

Recording: Tasseomancy

Artist: Tasseomancy

Song: Diana

Recorded at Rivoli, February 12, 2011.

Tasseomancy - Diana

My notes for this set can be found here.

Gig: Rebekah Higgs

Rebekah Higgs (Tasseomancy / Laura Barrett)

Rivoli. Saturday, February 12, 2011.

It was surprisingly well-lit when I walked into the Rivoli's backroom, finding a couple dozen people on hand, most filling up the tables along the room's west wall. As a compilation of reggae covers of popular hits played over the sound system, I saw the night's headliner and opener wandering the dancefloor, conspiring on how to create the right sort of atmosphere for the show. In the end, they grabbed some extra tables and set them up in front of the stage, reinforcing the notion that this was going to be a sit-down-pay-attention sort of gig. I stepped forward to help pull the tables in place — not so much out of gallantry as to be able to plunk myself down in a prime spot.

There were a few more bodies on hand as the lights went down, but not a huge crowd. Billed as a pre-Valentine's Day special, this was a rather under-promoted event. In fact, I came across it only by chance while flipping through the show listings, and no one that I mentioned it to had heard of it — not even those who would have been eager to have a too-rare opportunity to see expat Laura Barrett back in town. Temporarily relocated to Vancouver, Barrett led off some questions about dislocation in "Wood Between Words": "So, where are you bound this fall? Will I see you around? Where will you be moving on to?"¹

After that, though, came some interesting surprises, with Barrett putting down her trademark kalimba and switching over to autoharp for a new song that might be called "No Money at All". Although the same voice and smart songwriting shone through, that certainly brought a different edge to the song. She then moved over to the keyboard for another new one — this is less of a surprise for anyone that's seen her playing in The Hidden Cameras and so on, but unusual for her own set. Having adapted the kalimba partially as a means to stand out amongst a crowded field of singer-songwriters, it was a heartening sign to see that Barrett won't allow herself to be limited to her most identifiable shtick.

And thank goodness for that confidence on stage, for between the extra instrument swapping and the new songs, things were a bit awkward with some technical gremlins poking their heads out. That led to the tantalizing tease of Barrett teaching the crowd the refrain of "The Humble Fawn" (then unreleased, now available on the National Parks Project) before realizing there was a tuning problem and not being able to undertake the song. That leaves it as one to wait for.

The crowd stayed on-side despite the problems, or maybe even to some extent because of them — when an artist has such an easy rapport with their audience, things-going-awry feel less like gaffes and more like the sort of shared experiences between friends that you can laugh about and bond over. And here the seated, easygoing crowd was attentive throughout, praised by Barrett as "the best audience of the year".

There was a lot of banter about Valentine's day — Barrett had called "Ferryland" her only love song, but the set ended with "Deception Island Optimists Club" which has something of a Valentine's wish embedded in it.

"We're Tasseomancy... we're playing a Valentines Day show," said Sari Lightman (or, possibly, her twin sister Romy). "We played one before. [beat] It didn't go so well."

"No, it didn't go over so well," said Sari (or, possibly, Romy), completing her thought in that mildly-unnerving, possibly-telepathic we're twins! way that the sisters speak. Still, they did their Valentine's Day best, trying to relate the holiday to songs like "Anubis", which deals with hearts in a more visceral way. Think organ-consuming gods ripped from the pages of The Book of the Dead.

In fact, if some bands write songs that are like snapshots vividly capturing one instant of day-to-day life, think of the Lightmans' efforts as being more like rambles through dusty old books of arcane lore and soul-menacing occult secrets. Taking the stage with a spooky moan issuing from a record on a turntable, the band asked for the lights to be lowered until they were nearly in complete darkness before launching into the the expansive "Diana", a sort of song that exists inside its own elaborate world and pulls you into it, like a series of illustrated tableaux coming to life.

Stretching more than seven minutes, the song requires a bit of investment on the listener's part. "Ashkelon", running a bit longer, works on similar principles, but with less of a sing-song motif to cling to, it's dronier in a way that you're either going to have to surrender to, or possibly otherwise tune out. Still, despite the heavy motifs and unsprightly pacing, the Lightmans' magnetism pulled me into the songs. And in between, they maintained their chipper sense of humour, finding ways to relate the rest of the songs to Valentine's Day.

Although they've experimented with more expansive lineups, here it was just two voices, guitar and mandolin, and as they finished with one look to their older material (back to when they were known as Ghost Bees), "Erl King" was accompanied only by heavily-delayed mandolin. Even with only four songs, it was still a half-hour set, and quite arguably the strongest I have seen from the pair.²

Listen to a song from this set here.

More in line with ever-popular music and V-day topics of love and heartbreak, Rebekah Higgs, now based here in T.O., showed off her Halifax roots in leading off with a cover of Eric's Trip's "Behind the Garage". And though that's sure to warm the dusty cockles of any indie-loving Canadian heart of a certain age, that song, with a straight-ahead rock arrangement (Higgs on guit backed by bass, drums and keyb) didn't particularly show this unit in its best light. As I'd noted when I saw Higgs a few months previously, she's taken big steps forward from the pleasant-but-undistinguished work on her 2008 debut. The biggest strides have come sonically, especially in the manner she's appropriated some of the tricks from her Ruby Jean and the Thoughtful Bees dance-pop side-project. But without the extra textures, the more straight-ahead songs feel a little generic.

The contrast was made clear on the following "Lazy Morning", which slowed things down and embraced some more nuanced flourishes, such as bowed glockenspeil and effective vocal layering with the use of a looping pedal. The latter would be the key element of the bulk of the set, filled with songs from her now-released sophomore Odd Fellowship album. And there were some interesting variations in the arrangements — "Stick & Poke" ended in an accelerating spiral, like a teenager heading home drunk from the bar and trying to recreate the giddy childhood sensation of twirling around 'til you fall over.

Higgs seems to be aware of the delicate balancing required here: too much of the straight-ahead rock can be unremarkably same-y, but too much of the looping pedal and so on can get precious — but at the sweet spot in between all that, Higgs shows definite talent. Plus, she has an ear for no-doubt pop hooks, displayed on the fab "Little Voice" or "Gosh, Darn, Damn", which is a simple trifle of a thing, but with a chorus that can get stuck in your head all day. As long as Higgs can keep working out the mechanics of combining catchy-simple and intriguingly-textured — and perhaps upgrade to a drummer who can provide the material with the oomph it deserves — she'll definitely be doing work worth listening to.³

Listen to a song from this set here.

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¹ As of this writing, it appears that Barrett has returned to T.O. There's no word right now on any pending shows of her own stuff, but I do note that she will be alongside her friends in Sheezer when they reprise their annual Hallowe'en party — this year at Lee's Palace — on Friday, October 28, 2011.

² Indications that the band have truly hit their stride abound on their Timber Timbre-produced full-length Ulalume, out now from Out of This Spark. The band will be playing an album release show at The Great Hall on Thursday, October 20, 2011 and will also be opening for Austra (with whom the Lightmans are touring members) at The Phoenix on December 1, 2011.

³ Celebrating her new album, Higgs has a couple local dates coming up, including a return to the Rivoli on Thursday, September 15, 2011 as well as a show at The Drake Underground with Katie Moore on Sunday, October 2, 2011.

Poor Pilgrim Island Show 4: The Legend of Snake Island (Part II)

Poor Pilgrim Island Show 4: The Legend of Snake Island (feat. Tasseomancy, THOMAS, Daniel Romano, Alex Lukashevsky Trio, Drumheller)

Toronto Island. Sunday, July 18, 2010.

Read about the acts from the first part of this day here.

Organizer Matt Cully, keeping one eye on the weather forecast, had been shuffling contingency plans back and forth, worried not only about the possibility of rain, but of keeping things on time so everyone made it home on the last ferry. Although it would have been possible to stay inside at the church following Snowblink's set, it looked like the rain was going to hold off enough to confidently move on to Snake Island. Located between the yacht club and Algonquin Island, I'd never crossed the bridge over to the somewhat-obscure island. One of the less-developed areas, there was only a fairly rough path that led northward, opening up at a beach with a fantastic view across to Toronto's skyline. And by design, as THOMAS began to set up against a bluff of trees, the day's light began to fade. Magic hour.

Geez, context means a lot. Given how lukewarm I was towards Thomas Gill's group the first time I saw them, I was rather surprised by how much I was digging it here. Gill, with his guitar, was standing slightly apart from his band — this time out with sax, two keyb players (one of whom appeared to be playing his instrument through an old radio) and Felicity Williams. Perhaps its the presence of the latter that has done something to win me over, as I'm sort of astounded every time I hear her singing and have come to recognize Williams as a member of that class of enthusiastic collaborators who shows up with a lot of different artists and always makes them sound better.¹

Whatever it was, suddenly, the whole thing made a lot of sense. Playing softer-than-soft rock, Gill sang in a breathy voice floating on his gentle guitar lines and the fluffy synth tones — and sitting on the sand as the sun went down, it worked. Already doing material beyond that on his Self Help album, the group played one of the shorter sets of the day, just four songs including a KD Lang cover. But enough to have changed my mind.²

Listen to a track from this set here.

And then, the whole audience basically rotated ninety degrees to look over the water for Tasseomancy. The duo (twin sisters Sari and Romy Lightman) were sitting on a picnic table, a beach fire on the ground in front on them for the crowd to settle in around and a spinning dream machine-like sculpture giving some light. Behind them, there were occasional bulbs of lightning blinking in the far distance of the postcard view of the city visible over their shoulders.

Well-established under their former moniker Ghost Bees, the pair have recast themselves with a name that better expresses the elliptical, mysterious darkness their music explores. And though with that name change has come with a shift toward a more nuanced, layered sound — check out their recent 7" now featured on their myspace — here we just had the stripped-down pair. The surroundings did help to add some textures to their songs, however — during the first song, a plane came in behind to land, its buzzing hum adding a surprisingly-fitting low note that was perfectly timed with a pause in the music. Their hushed songs had an adequately spooky edge for this environment.

As they wound up, Matt Cully passed the hat, asking for some change to give in thanks to St. Andrew-by-the-lake church for their earlier hospitality. It has to be noted that this was the only time, all day long, that the issue of money came up. To restate that: Matt Cully put on this show for no compensation, not even asking anything to cover his expenses³, and ditto for all the artists, who paid out of their own pockets for the ferry and everything to play for free. It's admirable and mindblowing when you think of it.

The next set was billed as a solo spot for Daniel Romano, but it was very much a collaboration with Misha Bower's indispensable backing vocals.⁴ Romano — of rock unit Attack in Black and folk music triple-threat Daniel, Fred and Julie — had recently released his very fine solo album Working for the Music Man, and the world-weary folk/country vein he has been mining there was front and centre for this set.

With planes still landing in the background, the pair lead off with the hauntingly sad "She Was the World to Me". Although his album was still pretty new, Romano was already playing newer material, including one possibly called "Lost as Long as I Live". If there's a model for what Romano's doing (the mournful tone, the consideration of the wages of sin, the pining for some lost love), it might well be Gram Parsons' "Sin City", which isn't a bad place to start from, influence-wise. Those not enamoured with the country music form might find this a bit too much of a lament-fest, but the darkness did give way to a crack of light, the set closing on a positive note with "Never Grow Cold", a George Jones/Tammy Wynette tribute to persevering love. In formal terms, this might have been the least audacious set of the day; that didn't stop it from being one one the best.

Listen to a track from this set here.

And, interestingly, while the Alex Lukashevsky Trio used the same tools as the previous set (a single guitar, female harmony vocals) they were employed in a strikingly different way. Lukashevsky, an agile guitar player with a singularly-skewed lyrical vision, always brings to his songs the feeling of a worldview slightly torqued out of sync with everything around him — "does anyone have an extra guitar to throw on the fire?" he asked as he looked at the flames in front of him. His accompanists for this set were Daniela Gesundheit and Felicity Williams, both of whom, like Lukashevsky, had performed earlier in the day.

The set was originally planned for Ward's Island Beach, which probably meant that Lukashevsky was planning his set with a south-facing view in mind, but with one trip being cut in the interest of time, he made do with the Snake Island surroundings. Overcoming a few weird bursts of distortion coming from the mic at the start, the focus was mainly on newer songs from this year's Prints of Darkness album. But the stripped-down format gave room for a lot of inventiveness in the vocal arrangements, with the singers standing in for the string sections and other adornments found on the recorded versions. There were some dibby-dibby-doo style vocal harmonies, like an avant-garde Andrews Sisters, but the voices were used more creatively that that, tossing in little bird-calls and other animal noises here and there. Even with Lukashevsky's world-weary lyrics, the songs felt bright and cheerful.

The set closed with the aqua-appropriate "I Smoke by the Ocean" from the Deep Dark United catalogue, the three voices joined by stereophonic seagulls screeching in the background, and then it was time to head out from Snake Island, the rough path now cloaked in inky darkness.

Listen to a track from this set here.

From there, the day's last walk was over to the Ward's Island dock, where Drumheller played while the assembled crowd waited for the last ferry back to the mainland. With rain once again feeling immanent, and flashes of lightning growing closer, the band weren't sure if they should try and cram inside the little gazebo by the bike parking, but in the end just played in front of the gazebo, with a minimal, quick set-up — Nick Fraser had just a snare plus a cymbal sitting on the ground.

Including a couple musicians seen earlier in the day, this illustrious collective⁵ plays jazz that is both straightforward and undercuttingly deconstructionist. The straight-up elements are undermined, say, by Chenaux's spindly guitar figures but the sound is never too analytical not to swing. And having played together for quite awhile — since 2003, in fact, releasing three albums along the way — these guys knows how to work together and how to serve the compositions. Instead of a standard solo on lead-off "Porch", all the other instruments dropped out as West and Tielli meshed on an interlocking, decelerating dance. Things came together very strongly on "Drip Drop March", and it felt like they could have cooked for awhile.

The band managed three full songs, and was a couple minutes into their final one when the ferry arrived. As it pulled into the dock, the roar of its horn was echoed by a blurt from West's sax and things were quickly wound up as everyone headed over to get on the boat. Still, we got about twenty-five minutes worth of delicious music, ending the day in style. I'd been aware of this show for a couple years, but for one reason or another hadn't followed through. Now I can't wait for next year's edition.

Listen to a track from this set here.

And what a day it was! Looking back, I would have to say this was one of the best shows of the summer. Massive praise is due to Matt Cully for putting this together, as well as all the artists who took part.

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¹ The material on her myspace, part of her "Al Purdy project" setting that poet's words to music is pretty inviting too. Do check it out.

² THOMAS has a couple local shows coming up, November 25 (with Donlands and Mortimer and Charlotte Cornfield) at The Garrison and December 9 (with Sunparlour Players) at The Music Gallery.

³ On top of that, Cully also served as soundcrew and roadie all day, humping around the PA system on a cart behind his bike.

⁴ The busy Bower is also Cully's bandmate in Bruce Peninsula.

⁵ There's an interesting chart to be made showing who else each of these guys work with, but for now, here's the straight facts:

Brodie West - Sax

Nick Fraser - Drums

Doug Tielli - Trombone

Rob Clutton - Bass

Eric Chenaux - Guitar

Gig: The Wilderness of Manitoba

No Shame Presents: The Wilderness of Manitoba / Ghost Bees / Casey Mecija

The Garrison. Thursday, January 21, 2010.

Out on a Thursday night to check out this No Shame presentation at The Garrison. Nice to note some little signs of things "settling in" there. The famous blank red walls are now broken up a bit with some non-art — black, fabric-covered squares looking like Velvet Elvis paintings yet unborn. Plus, I noted a strip ad in eye's clubs page lending a sense of established permanence to the place and alerting the larger world a bit more to its existence.¹

I arrived in a bit of a haze, heading over after a rather baffling film and spent my first few minutes there staring blankly off into space trying to sort it all out in my head, dizzy with idea of reincarnation or eternal return or the universal similarity of human experience. Or something like that, I think. Fortunately K. — a bit sad for having a connection for some Dinosaur Jr. tickets not come through — showed up and re-focused me on the present.

In a weird, back-to-back sets coincidence, the first artist of the night, Casey Mecija, was also the last I'd seen at the last show I'd been at. This time out, things were even more stripped down, with the bulk of the set being a truly solo affair, just Mecija with her guitar and kickdrum. Different enough to make it feel like I wasn't just getting the same set twice, and a nice chance to hear the new material again and let it sink in a bit more. She led off with two of the same new songs heard at the Daps show, and then was joined on a few songs by Jeff Debutte (from The Acorn) adding some sympathetic, understated guitar lines and backing vox for a couple more new ones. The night's chatty crowd was a bit of a bother during the set, although with the venue still filling up, it wasn't too bad at the start. A gap to change tunings amped up the chatter a bit, though, and from then it didn't really abate, even when Mecija launched into the much-loved "The Otherside".² The set ended with another run through Nathan Lawr's "Barking at Your Door" — "I wish I'd written this one," Mecija told us.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Somewhat to my surprise, by the time that Ghost Bees were on stage, the place was packed. And folks were getting a little restless waiting for the set to start, not helped by a lengthy wait for the band to get everything plugged in and ready to go. Definitely a bit of a rough set-up day for the band — sometimes that just happens, but the slow start and frequent gaps between songs didn't help things along. Once things were underway, they started with one of those zither-y songs, filled with the close harmonies of twin sisters Sari and Romy Lightman accompanied by their uncanny looks directed at each other (implying "we're communicating telepathically!"). The band's effectiveness was being undermined by the loud music from the front room making its thumping presence felt over the delicate sounds on the stage, which seemed like a lack of care on the management's part towards the punters trying to watch the show.

Meanwhile, of all the gigs that I was expecting to see a steel drum solo, a Ghost Bees show might have been near the bottom. But there it was — an interesting idea, it was sort of played with a melancholy edge as a segue while the band's "secret" guests took the stage for a trio of songs. Although masked, John O'Regan would probably stand out in any crowd. The hooded keyboardist, meanwhile, might have remained shrouded in secrecy until beginning to sing — Katie Stelmanis' lovely, distinct voice quickly giving the game away. The four-piece played a slow, dirgeful tune that lumbered along a bit like a sleepy golem.³ The final song with the expanded lineup was a little more animated and showed the potential here, as the twins traded lines back and forth with Stelmanis and O'Regan, like an excerpt from some creepy opera.

But overall, I'd file the set under "not wholly successful experiment". Certainly the venue and crowd had something to do with the somewhat difficult reception this engendered in me, but part of the problem could also be gleaned when the twins came back out, unaccompanied, to play (as a slightly-unearned encore) their signature song "Sinai" ("You came tumbling and I was sorry") — which has a bit of something catchy to it, something you could hum to yourself afterwards, while the other material, well, not so much. I guess I'm glad that Ghost Bees are challenging themselves and their audience, but for myself, I need a bit more of a spoonful of sugar to make the medicine go down.

Although the last time I saw the Wilderness of Manitoba I found them pleasant but not compelling I knew I'd be seeing them again for further evaluation. As K. found a chair to sit a bit between sets, I told her that this would probably be down her alley, what with it featuring banjo and curly-headed boys and all that. Tired, she stayed sitting down as the band emerged at about quarter after midnight, but had moved up to where I was standing after a couple songs, giving a nod of approval. The band's central elements remain in place — the rootsy sound backed with harmonies and singing bowls, but it did seem tightened up some over the past few months. Plus, the set included some new material, such as "St. Petersburg", "Orono Park" and "White Water", the latter featuring a very fine string intro from Stefan Banjevic. The new songs seem like a nice extension of their original burst of material. Of those, "Evening" still works pretty effectively, and showcases why no small number people are utterly convinced by this band.

But not everyone, I guess — the crowd was still chatty during this set. Less so than during Ghost Bees, but still enough to be a distraction. As for me, on our way over to the bus stop after, I admitted to K. that there's still something about the band that keeps me from totally buying in. She promptly told me I was crazy and wrong, so take that under advisement. Still, I would yet like to hear the band in a fully sympathetic environment.

Listen to a track from this set here.

In the final analysis, this show was... okay. Maybe it was just in the wrong venue — the same bands playing at the Music Gallery, say, or Holy Oak would probably have gone over much better. It does make one wonder — what can the Garrison do to facilitate quieter shows? It's mildly amusing that in a venue that was quickly becoming famous for overwhelming volume that the bands were getting overwhelmed by crowd noise. But it's probably a good thing that bands playing quieter music didn't just have the volume knob cranked up — which'd probably just lead to people talking louder anyways. The biggest part comes from the atmosphere and culture being created at The Garrison. Is this just going to be a — ugh — hipster hangout, or is this going to be a place where people come to listen to music? I wonder what would happen if, for a show like this, the venue simply set up a few rows of chairs in front of the stage — would that be enough to get people to settle down and pay attention?⁴

Regardless, kudos to No Shame champion Lauren Schreiber, who packed the place out on a Thursday night with home-grown talent. I bet there were touring acts with higher profiles passing through town this same week playing to less crowded rooms, so it's worth celebrating what was going on here. The next step is being able to hear it as well.

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¹ The admirably minimalist website, however, could use a slightly sharper eye at the controls, this show being listed as the sic-inducing "Wilderness of Manaitoba + Ghost Bees + Casey Macida".

² In a more just world, there's be a roadie at the ready to hand Mecija a different guitar for a seamless transition.

³ It was, however, a chance to see that O'Regan unleasing his inner Wyrd Visions, showing off some hitherto undemonstrated guitar skills in unfurling melancholy minor key folk lays.

⁴ My first idea — roving docents with cattle prods issuing escalating warnings to the yapping folks — is, admittedly, probably a non-starter.

Gig: Baby Dee / Timber Timbre / Ghost Bees

Baby Dee / Timber Timbre / Ghost Bees

Over the Top Festival. 6 Nassau St. Thursday, May 21, 2009.

I'd gone to a film last year, but had never attended a gig at the Over the Top festival. This year I was interested, but scanning through the list of gigs, it was pretty much all stuff I was unfamiliar with. Unsure of what to see, I took the plunge and bought a wristband and resolved to try and take in as many previously-unseen bands as I could. Decided to start off with this Baby Dee show, not only from some vaguely-remembered plaudit for her unique stagecraft, but also to check out Timber Timbre, recently in the news for having signed with Arts & Crafts.

So headed off to the mysterious 6 Nassau Street. The venue had a bit of the feel of a speakeasy, largely because of its hidden, look-in-the-alley entrance. A largely unfurnished room, maybe a dozen yards square, with the bands set up in one corner. And not a lot of air movement on what turned out to be the year's first hot day. This meant that once it began to fill up, it got a little stifling in the room. Fortunately it was a sit-on-the-floor and soak it in kind of show, so perhaps smoggy lassitude was contemplative observation's midwife.

First up and establishing this vibe well were Ghost Bees (now T.O-based, but via Halifax) a duo of twin sisters Sari and Romy Lightman (guitar and mandolin) backed by Maya Postepski (percussion — also of Katie Stelmanis' band). Ghost Bees' music is wide-eyed folk, two gorgeous voices intertwining in eerie mysterious-twin synchronicity. Throughout the performance, the sisters watched each other carefully as they unfurled stories about witches and tea-leaf readers, giving a sort of private world folie à deux vibe. In the wrong context, I think this could all come off as too precious, but live, in this room, it was quite lovely. For their last two songs, the musicians pushed away their microphones and unplugged their guitars, singing unamplified to the rapt crowd. A good start to the night.

During Ghost Bees' last song, someone from the venue opened the side door to let in some air, and once the set ended, much of the crowd staggered outside to cool off, a living diorama of hipster types in the alley watched over by the staff in a Spadina restaurant's back door with some wry curiosity. Soon it was back in and a fairly full house settled down to hear Timber Timbre.¹ The band began with a rising ambient wall sounding like bird calls before guitarist/vocalist Taylor Kirk began to weave tales of haunted dark places. The band — lap steel, saxophone, violin — was well-constructed to add colour and texture more than rhythm. The songs were like a gothic mansion, all stately and roomy enough to explore around in. And possibly occupied by ghosts. A sharp set was capped by "Trouble Comes Knockin'", the excellent final selection, which felt like it was built from a pile of bones dug up at that crossroads where Robert Johnson did some business. Not recommended for use while operating heavy equipment or while trying to inspire the hopes of a young generation, but surely worth hearing.

A recording from this set can be found here.

And then, after another cooling break in the alley, a fair amount of turnover in the crowd — the numbers were reduced a bit, and now it looked like several of the cohort from the previous night's Katie Stelmanis had come along. Meanwhile, the harp and organ were being pulled into place for Baby Dee. I'm staggered in attempting to reduce this force of nature to mere descriptions. Imagine circus-ground organ and a quivering croon but also soft, melodious fingers on harp strings — two sets of tunes that were a little far apart, yet totally synthesized somehow in a way that made sense. I tended to enjoy the organ songs more — they put me in mind of British Music Hall tunes, like a bawdy George Formby, and were filled with viciously witty lines.² The harp songs were less immediate, though lovely in their own way — and it's a relatively unusual experience to see a harp in action, especially in the hands of a singer. This was a totally singular experience and a great set. Overall, a very good night, making me feel good for having taken the plunge.

A recording from this set can be found here.

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¹ Pronounced timber TAMber.

² Most amusing moment of the evening: one of those cooks from across the alley stepped into the room to see what all the fuss was about and looked around slightly suspiciously, like he thought the crowd were all putting him on by sitting around and listening to Baby Dee. He departed and, a few minutes later, brought a co-worker in with him, as if to prove his point about how crazy we were.