Created by the awesome Indexed

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Cover photo by marynbtol, used under Creative Commons license

Eight years ago I missed the Rheostatics last run because I had shingles (don’t ask). I’d seen them live half a dozen times before, but I always regretted not being able to see them that one last time before they broke up.

Last night I got a second chance, in maybe the most Canadian way possible. The Rheos had re-formed, along with Kevin Hearne (and Hugh Marsh on violin) for a run of three shows at the Art Gallery of Ontario, on the 20th anniversary of Music Inspired By The Group Of Seven. That album had been commissioned by the National Gallery of Canada to accompany their retrospective on the Group Of Seven. So yes, I was watching a hyper-Canadian band play an album commissioned by the national Canadian art gallery about a century-old Canadian art collective. Peak. Canadian. We bumped into M² and H² and their friend, and drank (of course) a Collective Arts beer.

After we all filed inside the band walked out and played the first six songs, silently. Well, almost — just as the band was about to begin playing “Blue Hysteria” Martin quietly said, “OK fellas…”, and I can’t be sure if he was preparing them or himself. I know that by the end of the song I was pretty emotional.

Dave finally broke the silence as he introduced “Northern Wish”, which played — like the entire album — over Jennifer Baichwal and Nicholas de Pencier’s silent video and archival footage, projected onto the walls of the art gallery’s central court where we stood. They played the rest of the album, adding so much more texture and intensity to songs like “Biplanes and Bombs” and “Lightning” than comes through on the studio album, and keeping the banter to an austere minimum, matching the quiet beauty of the northern Canadian videos playing all around us. Finally, with “Yellow Days Under a Lemon Sun” they closed out the set, beautifully, wonderfully. They tried to say goodbye, like Winchell Price’s parting comments on the album itself, but we were having none of it.

They walked back onstage and played four songs: “Claire” (their biggest hit, which I’ve never particularly cared for, but was certainly happy to hear live one more time), one from their kids album The Story Of Harmelodia (“It’s Easy To Be With You”, I think?), the best version of “Christopher” I’ve ever heard, and then an absolutely riotous take on “Horses” that ended with Martin and Dave collapsed in a mutual heap, and Dave’s signature pork pie hat flung to Don Kerr on the drum kit. I hoped it was the end. Don’t get me wrong: I’d have dearly loved to watch them play all night, but I can’t imagine a better way to go out than yelling “Holy Mackinaw Joe!” back at them over and over, before that song’s Ragnarok ending.

OK fellas. I’m good now. Thanks.

Bye bye.

https://twitter.com/hackmur/status/639992872637329408

Last night T-Bone and I finally managed to meet up for dinner, after about five months of planning and juggling schedules. We’d scoped out a few places, but eventually landed on rasa. I hadn’t heard of it, but of course trusted her judgment.

I arrived fifteen minutes early, and discovered that the place lacks both air conditioning and proper fan coverage. Oh, and it was 36 degrees. So I sat there in my own sweat for a while, only cooling after I downed a glass of cold Falanghina.

Once T-Bone arrived and we managed to stop talking for a few seconds, we ordered our shared plates for the night:

• MINI MUFFINS, corn, cheddar, poblano, semolina, lime butter
• SIDE STRIPE SHRIMP, chilled coconut, pineapple, thai basil, taro root
• BACON & TOMATO, pork belly, tomatoes, buttermilk, baby gem, pimento cheese
• FISH BOARD:
  • CAPRESE, albacore tuna, bruschetta, basil, dehydrated olive, padano crisp
  • TARTARE, yellowfin tuna, yuzu chili aioli, apple slaw, ponzu glaze, taro chips
  • JERK TROUT, steelhead trout, cilantro crema, pineapple, jerk sauce, plantain
• OCTOPUS, chorizo, ‘nduja puree, poblano salsa verde, peperonata, crispy lentils
• WAGYU BEEF RIBS, corn puree, grilled corn, pomme frites, scotch bonnet sauce

Everything else was goddamn delicious. Honestly, there wasn’t a single mediocre dish. I mean, I always find beef ribs a tiny bit disappointing because they look SO BIG when they arrive but yield very little meat, but that’s my problem, not the ribs’. They were tender and delicious. The wine selection was better on the white side than the red, but we still made out just fine.

I’d definitely go back. Wearing shorts.

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Cover photo by katherine of chicago, used under Creative Commons license

Last night our pal Adam Bell and his two new business partners (aka Every Time I…) threw a pop-up dinner on Dundas West. We made our way over via streetcar and bus (PSA: the Duff bus is not a place for claustrophobic people) and got there much too early.

Not by accident, mind you. Conveniently the venue for this shindig was a few doors down from Midfield Wine Bar, a perennial favourite which we’re able to visit far too rarely. We warmed up for the main event with:

• him: Pearce-Predhomme 2013 Pinot Gris / her: Chateau Ste Anne 2014 rosé
• him: Monnot & Fils 2011 Côtes de Beaune Chardonnay / her: Jean Bourdy 2009 Côtes du Jura Chardonnay
• him: Castello di Verduno 2013 ‘Basadone’ Pelavarga / her: back to the Chateau Ste Anne
• them: charcuterie board

We wrapped up just in time to head to dinner. Or so we thought — the first seating was taking their time clearing out. We didn’t mind though, since that gave us some time to catch up with our friend Jeff, who’d come to the first seating.

Eventually we sat down and ate the crap out of this here:

It was all really good, but my god…the smoked perch croquette. It was one of the best things I’ve eaten all year.

Anyway, we left there and went back to Midfield with Jeff and his friend Saunders where they slurped oysters and we drank wine and Anchor Steam, then jumped in a cab and threw Saunders out to drag off from a terrible bar downtown, and then came home and drank a little Ardbeg to end the night to toast our buddy’s successful evening. Well done, sir.

I don’t know what gave two of the best beer bars in the city the idea to collect a bunch of collab brews and serve them to people whilst sailing around Toronto harbour, but…kudos. Adam and I hit the second session on Sunday, and here’s what we drank.

1. Amsterdam x Great Lakes x Bar Hop Reprieve IPL
2. Sawdust City x Bar Hop Coriolis Effect Berliner weiss (with woodruff syrup)
3. Bellwoods x Great Lakes Bretallica pale ale
4. Stone City x Bar Hop Gertrude grisette
5. Nickel Brook Raspberry Über berliner weiss
6. Great Lakes x Bar Hop Gilligan Is Still Dead saison with guavas
7. Great Lakes Limp Puppet session IPA
8. Amsterdam Howl farmhouse ale
9. Indie Alehouse Fallen Idol (x3; we had tickets to get rid of and this was literally the only tap left)

We had no interest in the Clifford Little Mutineer pilsner or either West Ave cider, but two more we did want to try — the Indie Alehouse x Bar Hop Rabbit of Caerbannog white IPA and Indie Alehouse Rubicon Belgian golden ale — both sold out before we could try them.

For me, the Howl and the Gertude carried the day, and being able to sail around the harbour on an absolutely perfect evening wasn’t bad either.

https://instagram.com/p/6xyqr6GmLm/?tagged=indieboathop

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Cover photo by jjbaird

Welp, that’s a first. Never been creeped out by a movie about wrestling before, but Foxcatcher (imdb | rotten tomatoes) did it. I think Channing Tatum has found his wheelhouse: tightly-wound, nearly-mute, physical specimens.