Bon Voyage...or whatever it is you say when you're the one leaving....

We're all packed up and ready to take off for Baton Rouge and New Orleans first thing tomorrow AM.

Updates on Bloggy McBloggerson will be few or not at all in the next week. Expect lots of pics and details upon our return.

I'll miss you, my internet darlings!

Wave to brunch, Maggie!

I love brunch. I really do. I think that brunch has become, hands down, my favourite meal. Instead of having brunch this weekend I read James Chatto's article in Toronto Life on the subject.

Egg Hunt

It's great fun because it gives you the dirt on some local brunch hot spots and also, Chatto really captures the "culture of brunch". I know, I know, "the culture of brunch" - you think I'm crazy. But if you think about it, you can define the major stages of your life based on the kind of brunching your doing. You know it's true. You know I'm right. The other thing I know is that once you read this article you'll be craving Eggs Benedict. Don't panic, that's completely normal. If you're like me, when you think of Eggs Benedict your mind turns to the classic Woody Allen stand up bit of the same name long enough to distract you from your hunger. Delicious.

Courtesy of Woody Allen, stand up comic:

I had once a pain in the chestal area. Now, I was sure it was heartburn, y'know, 'cause at that time I was married and my wife cooking with her nazi recipies, y'know, chicken Himmler. I didn't wanna pay twentyfive bucks to have it reaffirmed by some medic, that I had heartburn. But I was worried 'cause it was in the chestal area. Then it turns out my friend, Eggs Benedict, has a pain in his chestal area, in the same exact spot. I figured if I could get Eggs to go to the doctor, I could figure out what was wrong with me, at no charge, so I con Eggs. He goes. Turns out he's got heartburn. Cost him twentyfive dollars, and I feel great, 'cause I figured I beat the medic out of twentyfive big ones, y'know. Called up Eggs two days later - he died. I check into a hospital immediately, have a battery of test run and x-rays. Turns out I got heartburn. Cost me a hundred and ten dollars. Now I'm furious. I run to Eggs' mother, and I say: "Did he suffer much?" And she said: "No, it was quick. Car hit him and that was it."

Ring-Rang-a-Dong for a Holiday!

I'm really having to work hard to keep my head in the game. Only 8 more sleeps till we go away on vacation! That's right, the Robeau and I are actually taking a vacation. It's a complete shock to my system, the thought that we are going to go somewhere, on an aeroplane, for the express purpose of having a good time.

We will first be heading to Baton Rouge to check out some of his childhood haunts and then we are on to New Orleans for the first jazz fest there since Katrina. The line up is incredible, Herbie Hancock and Terence Blanchard worth the trip alone. There are also a lot of non-jazz acts on the line up which would normally get my purists back up, but when those acts include Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen I learn to shut up. Fast.

I've never been to New Orleans so I am, of course, pretty excited. It also feels like responsible tourism, which is nice. We'll be able to spend a little time volunteering which is something I'm happy to do. Of course, this is not a selfless mission. Far from it. Check out this shot of the hotel we are staying in, located in the French Quarter.


Please! Will you look at that? How do I make my brain realize that I still have 4 days of work left?

I Heard It Through The Grapevine

Had a great long weekend getting together with friends and family and enjoying the beautiful weather in the T-dot. Friday night was a reunion of sorts with six of my very closest girlfriends and their beaus. In the last few years it seems that we can only get everyone in the same room for major events like weddings, funerals and the like. Turns out "crucifiction of a guy none of us knew" works just as well! It was a great evening, like the Big Chill sans all the Motown and dancing. Although, strangely, just like the Big Chill, no Kevin Costner. Guess that worked out for everybody.

Seriously, what does she think she is doing?

Pickles, wanton kitty *

* wanton kitty:
A promiscuous kitty or a prostitute . See playcat and prostitute for synonyms.

Canadian Smooth Jazz Awards - Redux!

This past Friday night, the second annual Canadian Smooth Jazz Awards were held at the Mississauga Living Arts Centre. The Clayton/Scott Group won Group of the Year for the second year in a row, making them the only act to "repeat" a win.

The CBC website points out "Clayton/Scott Group, the duo of pianist Jim Clayton and guitarist Andrew Scott who record with some of Canada's top jazz musicians, won group of the year for the second year in a row." Very exciting! If you live in the Greater Toronto Area and get Rogers Cable the show is being aired frequently in the coming days (and possibly weeks or months...hey, it's cable).

Building on his Juno success, West coast crooner Michael Bublé picked up all three awards for which he was nominated (including best male vocalist, album of the year for It's Time and Socan best original composition for his hit song Home.) Other winners included Molly Johnson who won female vocalist of the year. Jesse Cook picked up the guitarist of the year award and Carol Welsman was top keyboardist. And, incidentally she was the only woman who changed her clothes...twice! The Glamour of it all...

There was a tie for best wind instrumentalist with both flutist Alexander Zonjic (who hosted the awards) and saxophonist Warren Hill winning the award. Warren Hill has a career South of the border and therefore wears crazy leather pants. Nothing separates the Canadian and American artists in the genre more than their wardrobes.

International artist of the year was trumpeter Chris Botti.   Broadcaster Bob Farrow of smooth jazz station Wave 94.7 won broadcaster of the year. I have nothing to say about his clothes.

Contemporary music legend Bob James (most famous for writing the theme to the sitcom "Taxi"), who performed at the ceremony (and sounded amazing), was honoured with the George Benson Lifetime Achievement Award. The recognition couldn't have gone to a more deserving fellow!

A few pictures from the evening...

The Robeau (aka big time award winner Jim Clayton) and I enjoyed a very fancy meal of Popeye's chicken in scenic Mississauga, before the show. You can see I'm getting all dolled up for the evening ahead at the table.


Here's the Robeau, opening the show with the tune "Avital" from the group's second CD, "So Nice". Funkae stuff!!!


Andy Scott, who also Music Directed the event, on stage. We're going to have to call him Dr. Scott in a few weeks when he gets his PhD.


The Robeau, with living legend and super nice guy Bob James at the post show VIP party. Bob James has always been a big influence on the Robeau, so this was a very special moment.


For more on The Clayton/Scott Group visit their website:

The Clayton/Scott Group

For a very interesting article from the National Post discussing the merits of Contemporary Jazz, among other things, and featuring the insight of boy genius (M)andrew Scott click here:

Are You Ready to Relax?

Dispatch from Massey Hall

The Wayne Shorter Quartet played Massey Hall last night. Brad Mehldau opened for them, playing solo piano. They both made me want to scream. One in disgust, one out of sheer joy. Here's why...

*Brad Mehldau - Solo Piano, or Tracey rips her own arm off and beats herself senseless with it*

From the moment Mehldau walked onstage I felt uneasy. His response the to the applause that came on his entrance was a bit much. His bow a bit, let's say precious. But I shouldn't let that get to me, right? Let the music speak for itself and don't be a judgmental girl just because he looks full of himself and is wearing a shiny bowling shirt that is so ten-years ago, and makes him look like "Chandler Bing goes to prom". Those things don't matter. I'm a sophisticated enough audience member to know that. I am. I am. I am.

So I wipe all of those childish, negative thoughts from my mind and I let the music speak for itself. He opens with a pseudo classical version of "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds". He is a prodigious talent to be sure. I am reminded of a moment at a high school assembly where a recent Eastern European immigrant and new student was playing piano for the rest of the school and a friend turned to me in amazement, held up her hands and said, "I have ten, how many do you have?". Mehldau can play a lot of notes. He can play them fast. He twists the melody and eeks it out ever so slowly, making the tune a complete puzzle. I have to admit I did enjoy seeing if I could identify the tunes he was playing. I felt like the melody was a secret that he wanted to keep from us and by identifying it I had managed a small, personal victory.

The second tune was either actually from the classical world, Radiohead or self composed. I couldn't pin it down. I did hear the melody from Dave Matthews Band's tune "Crash" (you know, "crash...into you") repeated in the bass line a few times.

After the second tune Mehldau spoke into the mic for the first and last time in his set. It was to tell the lighting people to "just leave the lights one way" or something to that effect. What the hell?! That's why you have riders, or rehearsal, to specify that having a blue wash on the lights in the first tune and red wash for the second one messes with your creative mojo. It was a complete overreaction. From that point on I kept hoping someone's cell phone would go off and that he would run off-stage in a huff. Mehldau running off-stage in a huff would have made the screaming in my head stop.

What I heard through the screaming in my head for the rest of the set was another Lennon/McCartney tune, "I Fall in Love Too Easily" and "On The Street Where You Live". I also heard the bass line for "Crash" again. The rest of it is a blur. It could not have ended fast enough.

Mehldau is a talented piano player. That much is undeniable. The problem is there's no heart, not one ounce of feeling. And ultimately, that makes him nothing but dull.

*The Wayne Shorter Quartet, or Zen and the art of jazz*

Wayne Shorter and his Quartet (Danilo Perez - piano, Brian Blade - drums, John Patitucci - bass) play serious music. This is not jazz for the lighthearted. This is not stuff that's at home on the radio or as background music at a dinner party. While that much is obvious from the start, none of the musicians on stage displayed even a hint of feeling "too hip for the room" (see Brad Mehldau).

Shorter was clearly suffering from a bad cold, you could see it in the way he swallowed and in the kleenex he kept hidden in the piano. This didn't stop him from playing at his best though, and in being completely present during the ninety minute set.

The Quartet played four tunes through the course of the set. It was phenomenal to hear them work through the compositions. The playing seemed completely organic, Shorter almost zen-like, playing sparse, economical lines. Patitucci is impossible not to watch, everything about him and his playing was completely compelling. Seeing him interact with Blade, who was so inventive and intense was a joy.

A feeling of goodwill filled the concert hall, from the moment they took the stage to the moment they left, after one encore, arm in arm, Shorter with his horns and kleenex box in tow.

It would have been nice to hear some of his earlier compositions, say "Footprints" or "Night Dreamer", but this is one case where I feel the artist is completely entitled to play whatever he pleases. If Wayne Shorter wants to look forward, and not back, that's ultimately a great gift to his listeners.

It's OPENING DAY!

Snapped between innings at Skydome...err...Rogers Centre last season




Hope springs eternal. All things are possible. It's OPENING DAY!