A sociable weekend, for my definitions of sociable. Someone at work said there's regular jam sessions at the Tranzac club on Saturdays, so I arranged to meet her there. And there she was, telling the regulars that she just had to rush off to this birthday party along the street. OMG-- the double party of two of our kids, that I'd forgotten all about. So we went together and greeted the birthday girls and a number of their little friends, then back for the jam session.
From three year olds to fifty-three year olds. That's being kind: there were several people at least my age if not older. And if they play more-or-less country music, a lot of it was 60s country music. The blues was earlier. First time I ever heard St James Infirmary, and can't for the life of me figure out its longevity. Possibly the acoustics in the place, possibly my blocked ears, but I couldn't make out the words of pretty much anything. The song I'd like to know was mostly in yiddish anyway, someone's new Purim filk 'What shall we do with the shiker rabbi?' (shiker = drunk)
Music is, y'know, not much my thing, but today I went to a concert at the old Japanese Buddhist church on Bathurst that I never went into when it *was* a Japanese Buddhist church, coward that I am. But the Sri Chinmoy Centre was holding a 'Music for Meditation' concert, including Tibetan singing bowls. First off was the all-woman ensemble Sangit Surabhi, who were entrancing. I'd hoped they'd made a CD, but what they have instead is free downloads of their music. Then an all-male ensemble who improvised on gongs, singing bowls and flutes. A bit new wave for me, but interesting. Rubbing-- not striking-- a gong makes an unbelievable noise. Then was the intermission and I left, because the second half promised 'peace chants with the audience' and I don't do interactive theatre.
Anyway, had to go down to the Bell Lightbox on King St to get my Miyazaki tickets. Have not been on King St in donkey's years, thus hadn't registered that King west of Bathurst contains some lovely brick buildings probably dating from Old York's time, that have not been torn down for condos, unlike much of Queen St and various of the n-s streets in the area-- Peter, John, Portland. (Portland was torn down to make faux-Palladian faux-18th-century-London townhouses grouped around faux-squares. Which is better than condos, I suppose, in being only three storeys high and not 30.)