Friends in Bellwoods say goodbye to the cottage

“We wanna party tonight because we got evicted from our house and we wanna tell our landlord to fuck off. Excuse my language,” said Casey Mecija, the pint-sized lead vocalist of Ohbijou, to gales of laughter at Lee’s Palace.


“And there’s no better way to do that than with orchestral music,” she said, beaming in a canary yellow sweater and purple pants on stage at the Friends in Bellwoods 2 release party on August. 28th.
Although it was slightly off putting to hear profanity with a grin from Mecija, it’s understandable given the fact that the Bellwoods cottage where sisters Casey and Jennifer lived, performed and recorded in collaboration with local bands recently closed down on Sept. 1. Apparently mold set into the dwelling where the first compilation album, Friend’s in Bellwoods, was recorded in 2007 to raise funds for Toronto’s Daily Bread Food Bank.


Skirting Trinity Bellwoods Park, the former haunt for intimate basement shows and collaborative recording sessions with indie bands such as Forest City Lovers and The D’Urbervilles may have passed on, but something will live on from it.
“I think having the compilations has made having to leave the house a little easier,” Mecija sighs. “The first compilation represents a very youthful, uninhibited time. Fast-forward to the compilation now, and everyone is in different stages of their lives, and they have different priorities and have been traversing the music industry in different ways. We don’t see each other as much, but it’s not as reckless — beautifully reckless. It’s not like that anymore. But having these compilations has actually made it less heartbreaking for me,” said Mecija in an Eye Weekly interview.

It’s almost fitting that the curtains close on what NOW once wrote was “the new epicenter of T.O.’s indie rock community,” as they release round 2 of Friend’s in Bellwoods, a 40-track double-album set of work from a slew of independent Canadian musicians.

Four bands featured on the album are playing tonight to a full house at Lee’s. Wee icicle lights cascade over speakers at the edge of the stage like layered petticoats and Kat Burns, lead vocalist of Forest City Lovers takes the stage in a pink one-piece dress with a tiny v-pattern. Her hair is tied back low, layered bangs falling over her face and a pale pink and blue guitar that is reminiscent of a 50’s malt shop rests against her form.

She pours out vocals both sweet and strong, like a shot of gin and liquorice burning down your throat. Butterscotch coats her vocal chords, melting in sugary dollops, a candy apple with a dark, toxic layer buried deep in the centre.

One minute the set is all New Orleans rhythm, voodoo magic and sway and then their tempo slows with a deep, haunting trio of violins rising and falling as members of Ohbijou join them on stage with strings and vocals harmonizing.

When the founding sisters of Ohbijou eventually clamber on stage amid a hodgepodge of instruments and the rest of the band in tow it seems like the crowd gets what they came for. Its also apparent that Casey isn’t letting an eviction notice get her down.

Jennifer Mecija stands with a violin perched on her shoulder in a dress of vibrant blossom print, her short hair framing her face with a clump of bangs lying above her eyes. Beside her Casey steers the helm of the band with an orange guitar in hand and her childlike crooning voice that meanders like a breeze amid clusters of trees, or the sweet sounds of her band mates.

Members of Forest City Lovers and Evening Hymns join them for a song and then in a wild flurry of instrument and body arrangement more than 16 musicians jump onboard the packed ship of a stage that Casey leads like a lighthouse on bustling sea. In the swarm of bodies, about four to a microphone, drummer James Bunton becomes hidden in the back of the crowd.

The second last song of the set, “New Years”, from their latest album Swift Feet for Troubling Times is the riotous climax of the evening. It starts with a simple guitar melody and then Casey blasts the last line, “Lover come grab your guns. I know that you want some. Maps in flames, I'll follow you, while you lead the way.”

Tim Fagan, an indie multi-band contributor joins her on stage in a hooded red plaid jacket, unceremoniously undoes his pants with his back to the stage and about 20 seconds later, in the middle of a passionate stanza they are down around his ankles. Casey gives an amusingly flummoxed look at his black briefs and continues to play as he does a quick two-step and falls to his knees before her, hands clasped prayer-like over the microphone.





The pants-less performance continues as a bemused Casey turns away from the sight and Tim eventually struggles to pull the fabric up again. In the middle of a high-emotion, thunderous beat, hands clapping performance a public change room session takes place.

The bitter sweet violins rub achingly against the inflamed voice of Casey, who jumps along to the beat and Tim, who bends over releasing strangled bursts of lyrics. The symphony of instruments and voices charge along at breakneck speed and then Tim walks over to band member Heather Kirby, grabs the back of her neck with one hand and blasts his words in her face, almost as if he could infect her with his passion.

The whole crowd seems caught up in it, the frenzy of a song that speeds along without rhyme or reason. It takes on a life of its own, utterly ridiculous, yet beautifully reckless. Before it’s over Tim de-pantses again.

Potter puppet time

Theresa Andersson performs at The Rivoli

When Theresa Andersson sings it seems less like vocal chords producing sound and more like a sweet bubbling hot spring, or a magician concocting a magical formula of notes and musical arrangements.

This one woman show performed at The Rivoli in Toronto on Friday, August 14th during her first tour in Canada with David Martel after releasing her album “Hummingbird, Go!” about a year ago.
With influences from both her homes, Sweden and New Orleans, Theresa has created a completely unique blending of many sounds which sound as natural and fluid as spontaneous thoughts when playing live.

In red pumps and a white V-neck dress of black and red flowers Theresa conducted her orchestra of one, with two microphones at her helm, a violin hanging below them, two stringed instruments to her left (one being a guitar) a tambourine at her feet and zebra striped drums situated to her right. With what looked like effortless skill she moved from instrument to vocals, recording sounds cued by foot pedals at her feet and then playing them on repeat. One moment she was emitting a series of jazzy percussion-like noises, including claps and cheek popping sounds, and the next she was emitting robust lyrics to her own organic beat.

“Birds fly away. Find shelter. Trees stand strong,” she sang, clenching a raised fist as her eyes flashed below a thick chunk of tousled brunette bangs. Her enthusiasm was infectious as she picked up her tambourine and danced across the stage, her hands and feet a flurry of motion as she stomped and smacked the jangling instrument against her palms, her hips or slammed it down on the drum before her. As she crooned “do, do, do, do, do, doooo,” her arms raised to the ceiling, and her body swayed, a joyful expression lighting up her face. Her childlike excitement and energy absorbing to behold.
As each song began to unfold it was fascinating to watch her layer tunes together, releasing one strand of sound and then overlapping it with longer, higher or lower notes that build and become a thick stew of interwoven harmonies. She lays out each tone like an ingredient from a memorized recipe on her kitchen counter, stirring with enthusiasm and adding zesty new flavors with gusto.

Despite her complex coordination of nimble footwork and instrument manipulation everything runs smoothly from the first note to the last, every sound fitting snuggly into the tapestry with no competition for prominence.

Theresa’s voice always does manage to soar dizzyingly above her homespun melodies, with a powerful vocal range that can croon in light, ethereal tones, sultry rich shades or emotional climaxes of sound.

Her style of recording and repeating sounds during her performance lends itself perfectly to spontaneity and she encouraged enthusiastic audience improvisation from the beginning of her set.

During one rambunctious number as the crowd had started to dance and clap along she bent forward suddenly, flinging her hair over her face and stopping the music abruptly. Unsure of whether the song was finished we emitted a few yells before pausing in anticipation. Through the curtain of her long wavy tresses Theresa beckoned us on with a hand gesture and the room burst into a frenzy of jovial hooting and hollering as she sprang back to life.

This woman who looked like she would be right at home in a meadow of wild flowers began emitting her own pre-recorded voice from the speakers with her hands outstretched and palms splayed. Then she began to scat, explosive, bursting sounds that stormed rapidly out of her lips with barely time for breath, the intensity rising to a fever pitch.

When Theresa returned to the stage for her standing ovation she thanked David Martel, who she met in Nashville, for inviting her on this tour. Her final song puts her in mind of the heavy trials that New Orleans has recently faced. She notes that the city has learnt to respect mother nature. It starts simply, with two phrases sung in a delicate strand. “Find the cost of freedom buried in the ground. Mother earth will swallow you, lay your body down.” She places a fresh stanza over that one, like laying a second pale sheet upon a bare bed.

The words remain the same but she adds deeper tones, and then another, only higher, stretching certain words and sounds. Soon the threads begin to weave through one another, with powerful soprano notes leading the chorus, as the choir-like refrain gains momentum and emotion.

As she finishes the mantra of voices fade away, and all that remains is her solitary voice, which has dropped to her last low and soulful key.

"Sister Suffragette" Mary Poppins

"Womankind arise!" This always brightens my day.

Ponyo hits theatres this Friday

I am super-super stoked that the world finally gets to see Hayao Miyazaki’s latest masterpiece, “Ponyo on the Cliff”, or Disney’s title, “Ponyo”, this Friday, August 14th.

It’s true that a lot of the emotion and some of the meaning may be lost in the translation of the English dub, but at least a new generation of kiddies will be exposed to Miyazaki’s environmental, feminist, socially conscious animated stories, instead of another pack of stereotypes and gender norms that the typical Disney movies spew out for consumption.

I watched the original Japanese version with subtitles on youtube at the end of last summer following its debut release and it really is an adorable film with great messages and breathtaking animation. It’s wonderful that Miyazaki’s genius has been recognized globally and that Disney contributes to this through their production of English versions of his work, but there are a few things about Disney’s handling of “Ponyo” that really irk me.

The first involves their selection of voice actors. Don’t get me wrong, there are some talented actors lending themselves to this film, such as Tina Fey, Liam Neeson and Cate Blanchett, but then we get into Disney-spawn-produced territory.

I’m talking the freakin’ Jo Bros. That’s right, it’s come to this. Frankie Jonas, a younger brother of the Jonas Brothers (how many bloody kids do they have?) and Noah Cyrus, (you guessed it) a younger sister of that beloved glittery Disney slave Miley Cirus, are providing the voices of the main characters, Sosuke and Ponyo.

Disney even went so far as to have these kids make a kiddie-rock-pop version of the theme song for the film, available for your ears in all its disgusting glory below. My gag reflex kicked in because this honestly sounds like a brutal sacrilege of Miyazaki’s original vision. It’s the twisted “Americanization” of Japanese animation at its best folks.

If you want to compare here is the original Japanese version, which sounds reminiscent of the theme song from “My Neighbour Totoro” in my opinion.

Maybe the kids legitimately have the perfect voices for this role….or it was a form of free babysitting in the Disney sound studios…who knows? It’s just upsetting to me that the empty star power of Disney babes has to be associated with genius like Miyazaki as a flashy gimmick to boost box office sales. Then to top it off they completely warp the theme song into some Jo-Bro-Cirus Frankenstein’s monster.

I guess these are the flaws that fans just have to live with when dealing with the dubbed-for-every-American versions of Miyazaki’s work. The movie will surely still be marvellous, and as long as Disney doesn’t tamper with the original art they are still honouring the contract they signed in 1996 to produce and distribute English versions of certain Studio Ghibli films.

I love Miyazaki’s storytelling and animation style and hopefully he continues to create meaningful, beautiful films for a long while yet. Anyone who loves his past work will probably enjoy this film, despite the Disney-brats who happen to be along for the ride.

Au Revoir Simone- Black Cab Sessions "Trace a Line"

Au Revoir Simone from Black Cab Sessions on Vimeo.