Emma Brender, better know as Party Time, ceases to play the guitar for a moment, at the sound of the cell phone ringing plaintively and audibly. She looks down near her black sneakers and announces, laughing, “Oh, its this phone, that’s funny.”The crowd gathered at Tranzac on a Saturday night, for Ladyfest’s solo-artist concert seems to think so as they erupt into sporadic giggles.
Emma smiles uncontrollably explaining, “Its not my phone, but I should have turned it off, duh!” She has a short, boyish haircut and wears a navy tee and jeans. When she starts strumming the same tune again most of us seated in clusters can’t contain our laughter. The turn out tonight consists mostly of women, but you can detect a few men seated amongst the tables of tiny flickering candles in the darkness.
“Don’t laugh!” Emma pleads, playfully, and stops singing again. At this point she can’t stop from giggling either, and bends over to retrieve the phone that hasn’t stopped ringing. Apparently it’s her friend’s phone. “Andy, work’s calling. They really want to talk to you.” By now the laughter is unstoppable.
Emma has a very candid way of talking, that’s refreshing and disarmingly cute. She seems used to poking fun at herself in a good natured way. She’s the first to take the stage tonight, as part of a line up of 5 talented, female musicians. Unfortunately I don't get the chance to hear Heather Sita Black and Rae Spoon play. After her first song she tells us that her first set was supposed to make us “rowsy.”
“Rowsy?” she repeats, covering her face with her hand and laughing. “I was going to say rowdy, but I was thinking drowsy and that’s what came out,” she explains, matter-of-factly, smiling.
Accompanied only by her guitar chords, Emma’s voice takes on lark-like capabilities, as well as deeper tones that resemble the pebbles brooding underneath a cool, clear mountain stream. Her lyrics are sad, thoughtful, playful and hauntingly true. Her song “Joy,” touches a chord. “The things you said the last time we spoke, make me want to light a matchstick, give it a little flick, and watch you and I go up in smoke.”On her myspace page she describes her music as so sad its funny. In some cases this is definitely true. One of her new songs, which she is hesitant to play because she’s afraid the words will escape her, is a perfect example. She introduces the song by explaining that, “love is infinite,” stretching her arms. “But monogamy is limited, and limiting, and I’m limiting it. Right now.” One endearing quirk about Emma is that she often appears embarrassed with herself for being so forthcoming, but she always recovers quickly.
“Love doesn’t get lost, it gets recycled. It comes back as a paper plane, or a message in a bottle…What do they think love is anyway? Some magical syrup you pour on your pancakes?” By the end of her performance, Emma has certainly charmed me.
Next on the stage is a personal favourite of mine, Lisa Bozikovic, an alternative folk artist who seems as bonded to the red keyboard she plays as an additional appendage of her body.
Lisa's wearing a grey tank top with thick straps, a thin silver chain and jeans. Her smoky eyes almost match her short, auburn hair as she croons, “push it away, push it away”, her fingers flying over the keys fluidly. She tells the crowd that she thinks it’s incredible that an event like this runs every year, and goes on to say that, “It really sucks that NOW magazine didn’t think LadyFest was cool enough to write an article about.” 
She plays three new songs that aren’t featured on her EP tonight, and each one accentuates the diversity of her voice. The first has a playfully light sound, and her face fills with emotion as she sings, “and its my heart you’re warming as the weather gets cold….and its not the end, it’s a space in between. It’s a place we’re going and a place we have been.” Lisa often has a look of utter contentment on her face while performing, as if while playing the keyboard, she’s home.
The next song is a departure from the slower, undulating sound of her other tracks. She introduces it by explaining, “I’ve never written anything this intense, so it’s kind of scary.” The notes seem to pound violently, like terrified running in the dark. The song has a dark, emotional horror-like feel, “take this love away, all at once.”
Her last song really showcases her vocal range, rising like the sound of tinkling crystal, and then dropping gracefully like warm, soft shadows breathing amongst the trees. Her voice takes on a surreal yet natural texture, cascading like water. Its painful and mysterious, but beautiful too.
The last artist I was able to witness perform was Dinah Thorpe, who integrated traditional instruments like the banjo and harmonica with electronic keyboard in a
very interesting way. Tall, with short brown hair that flares out a bit, Dinah’s unique voice floats over the crowd as she turns her body to the beat.She has a lingering, Celtic tinged sound, like wisps floating on the breeze. But her songs aren’t something you can brush aside, with bold, political lyrics to match her intense delivery. One song she claims to be sacrilegious mixes pulsing dance beats with church organ sounds. She repeats, “I’m tired of cars, I’m tired of cars…I’m tired of rock ‘n’ roll, I’m tired of rock ‘n’ roll… I’m tired of white men running things.” The fast pace of the song contrasts with her soft, explosive-laden voice.
Her final song, titled Jukebox religion has an in-your-face happy beat that makes me want to trip through empty school hallways and slide down railings for the rush. When she comes in with a fucking rad harmonica solo at the end of the song, my face transforms into a smile. This is what Ladyfest is about, I think.
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