Five life lessons learned in the last week

1) Trying to get insurance companies to cooperate with you is challenging when you are homeless.
2) Getting your cat a root canal or yanking out your cat's tooth costs exactly the same.
3) Getting your cat's tooth yanked out costs more than getting one of your own teeth yanked out.
4) Paying others to clean after you have vacated your place is money well spent.
5) Carrying your old heavy CPU down narrow basement steps with no railing when you are a little bit drunk is a very bad idea.

Bluesfest. Done. Like Dinner.

Stick a fork in us. We're overdone. Like Mom's trademark Sunday dinner. You want anarchy, Short Guy? Try this: by the last day of our big blues binge, the sound reinforcement professionals twisting the little coloured dials on the multiplicity of mixing boards strewn across the site were pretty much all deaf, and their therapeutic remedy as a cohort was to CRANK IT UP REAL LOUD ALL OVER... Oy.






Our frenetic sprint through the finale of Ottawa Bluesfest had highlights: witness the big, blazing Detroit Women ensemble, preceded on the Rogers by vivacious economy-sized former pornstar Candye Kane's very credible barrelhouse blues -- and the sudden huge thundering (all-male) herd of 'official' shooters aiming real big, long telephoto lenses up her feathered and spangled mini....

But before the tail-end of it, the Independent Observer and I were both ready for it to be over. We took in Sam Roberts' superior power-pop, then surveyed our options for the big windup. Solid Gold Dance Party, featuring some twisted remnant of the Village People on the Main Stage? Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings on the Blacksheep? Alexisonfire on the River?

Nah. Done. With all due respect to their brilliance - and we're huge Dap-King and Alexis fans - we'd hit the very tippy edge our human and canine limits. We called Aggie's Big American Taxi Service and whisked off to a quiet debriefing. Well outta earshot...

Pix, From top, l-r: About a quarter of the Detroit Women; Candye Kane; Standup blues: Mannish Boys' sharp dressed bassist, Tom Leavey; Horn shots: King Sunshine; Full-bore swamp funk from the Chief Thunder Chicken: Papa Mali; Romeo goes electric: Steve Forbert; Authentically grizzled blues wheelman Watermelon Slim (left) with one of his Workers; Sam Roberts hitting the crowd with well-crafted tunes; After all the hoo-hah, ya didn't think we'd forget the chair contingent, didja? Check out this li'l hummer -- Comes with its own built-in sunshade; And finally, from the HiloTrons' hot-boppin' afternoon stage show: definitely not your average gogo dancer....

Wondering about the Anarchists

Have you noticed that the anarchists are recruiting? I've been meaning to go to one of their meetings to see if they plan to do anything about the Irish conspiriacy. I imagine that like any group, the Anarchists have their difficulties, but you can see that back in April they were ready to deal with them face on:

The purpose of this meeting is to discuss the problems with anarchist organizing in Ottawa and attempt to come up with concrete proposals on how to organize better both within and between our groups.

I'd like to see a copy of the flip chart paper from that meeting. My guess is that it looked something like this:

Key Problems

• We're all freaking anarchists
• ...
  

Stringin' the blues

A strange brew of sounds Saturday as Bluesfest wailed into its final weekend. Conch Shell and Painted Stick were flatly unimpressed with the usually engaging Danny Michel.

DJ Champion & His G-Strings win the award for Kindergarten Teacher's Worst Nightmare. They had ADD-fuelled energy to burn and actually sounded pretty good if you closed your eyes. (It's impossible to actually hear them with your eyes open because just trying to watch them bounce, jump and flail around takes all of your faculties.)



The Deadstring Brothers filled the high, dry Barney Danson theatre with a rockin' good vibe, kinda like Wilco channelling the Stones with a touch of the Band's Garth Hudson thrown in. Classic Hammond organ and steel guitar make these folks a must-see for anyone visiting their hometown of Detroit. Only problem is their name: they are neither dead, nor stringy. And they have a purty gal sharing vocal duties, so they ain't all brothers. Coyote and I were impressed.

One had to feel sorry for Da'truth, servicing a small crowd of musical faithful on the Black Sheep Stage. His rap-rant about cable companies that hawk porn had enough fire and brimstone but could've used some good beats to juice it up. Amen. Enough said.

On the big stage, meanwhile, Kanye West preached to a much bigger posse, but his enthusiasm couldn't hold off the rain.

Looks like Bluesfest is in for a soggy conclusion. But it could be worse. In days gone by, in the pre-wine tent era, the combination of Bluesfest, LeBreton Flats and rain meant one thing: mud.

Words: The Independent Observer. Photos: coyote. All the blurriness is an effect, people, honest! Not shakiness from increasing exhaustion... or all that Ritalin we took in a futile attempt to keep up with the G-Strings...
Photos, top to bottom: Some of the G-Strings; Vocalist Masha Marjieh of Deadstring Bros; (do you sense a theme?); and Da'truth, rappin' righteously.

Tangled up in blues

Friday was a night for big stages. And there shoulda been more. The day's Bluesfest schedule was so highly ambitious, there really was not room for it all.

Audrey, Ottawa's biggest pop fan, insisted that INXS, on the MBNA, was the act to see, and the IO, Conch, and Painted Stick were mere tails in the wake of her irresistable comet. INXS had crisp sound, crisp playing, crisp packaging -- consumate pros. Singer JD Fortune is still growing into his new role (Duuude! Stop asking the crowd if they're having a good time! They are. And the near-constant F-bomb? Adds little if anything to your street cred. You can sing, already.) but he and the band know what they're doing.

Earlier, on the Rogers, some of us enjoyed Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians, music jazzily elastic, undefinable, wierd, lovely and utterly compelling. And better than her discs. Live, you can see the musical gestalt and feel Edie. She talked about finding the end of a double rainbow in Central Park, one day with her kids. Presumably her husband, Paul Simon (Yes, that Paul Simon) was there as well. They didn't find any gold, but what the hey. They've both got gold records.

The indy hipsters probably wished their preferred acts had gotten bigger stages -- the vast crowd for breathless Newmarket power-post-pop-punk band Tokyo Police Club gridlocked the Black Sheep venue completely, then kept coming. They didn't quite flatten a security guard that vainly tried to stop them during the mob scene at the gate. But the indy hipster crowd is very good at giving rent-a-cops the collective "Huh? You mean moi?" look, and keeping right on going. Great band, terrific fast tunes, fully worthy of the buzz. Then hipsters moved on to a similarly packed scene at the River Stage to watch local alt-conceptual darlings, Metric. And probably hold their breaths some more.

Dinosaur rockers were also out in full force, spilling in to the Black Sheep for a reconstituted Ten Years After as hipsters fled in droves. Coyote ventured there briefly, despite Audrey's strong persuasive powers, but soon evacuated, pointy ears near bleeding from the sound pressure. When last seen, he was holding his head in his paws and (very quietly) yowling, 'Now I know what killed all the dinosaurs to extinctedness...'

Photos, Top(ish) to bottom(ish): Edie Brickell channels Steve Tyler - in a good way; INXS and JD Fortune cop major rawk star attitude; Tokyo Police Club bassist and singer David Monks; Ten Years After bassist Leo Lyons and 'new' guitarist/vocalist Joe Gooch, amid lotsa smoke and lights and noise.