December Music Picks!!!

What do you want to be humming in the morning? Or, in some cases, what do you want to make your ears ring until the next evening? Here's my picks for what should be some great shows in the month of December!

Bon Iver - Massey Hall - December 6

Touring in support of their self-titled second album, these Yanks are continuing an upwards trajectory. A recent discovery for this cat, it's not hard to fall in love with the very pretty harmonies they put together. From all accounts, lead singer Justin Vernon hardly needs any backing to captivate a crowd, and ol' Massey Hall should be a great showcase for them. Almost makes me wish I wasn't shredding powder in the Rockies when this one goes down. Tickets from TicketMaster are $58.14-63.14 including fees.



The Sheepdogs - Lee's Palace - December 9 & 10

A little bit bluesy, a little bit rocky, a whole lot of good. A little reminiscent of old Guess Who or CCR in the riffs & harmonies, they might be the best thing to come out of Saskatoon since Gordie Howe. They'll certainly entertain more on this night, no offence Gordie. This is part of 102.1 The Edge's holiday concert series, and $1 from every ticket goes to the Food Bank. Great music, great cause. General admission tickets are $20.



DJ Hype - Guvernment - December 16

One of the world's filthiest drum n' bass acts touches down in Tdot for a little dancefloor mayhem. If you've only ever heard one dnb tune, it's probably his - Ready or Not. He's been on the case since 1989, and showing no signs of slowing down. I've seen him a bunch of times already, and he kills it each & every time. Playing on one of the biggest, guts-scrambling systems in the city, with some crazy frickin' lighting will only enhance dem 'tings.

This jam has Commix (UK - Hospital) as second headliner, and the ever-present MC Daddy Earl gracing the mic. Toronto's own legend, Marcus Visionary provides local support with Everfresh, plus MCs JD, Caddy Cad & Trajady on the mic.

Tickets are $25 advance, more on the door. 19+ only, sorry kiddies.

Do. Not. Miss. This.

Canadian Brass & Toronto Symphony Orchestra - Roy Thomson Hall - December 20 & 21

Call me campy if you like, but I fucking love Christmas. Lights, store windows, good wine, turkey, and old familiar Christmas songs. I mean, we all know the only real Christmas album is Bing Crosby's 'White Christmas,' but since he's long since passed (and his daughter just doesn't have the barritone to pull it off), the Canadian Brass Christmas concerts have been a staple of the holidays for a coon's age. Tickets range from $31-109.

Oldschool Boxing Day Blowout - Footwork - December 26

A favourite pasttime of any downtown dweller, what better way to sweat out turkey gravy than by shaking yourself down to some oldschool Tdot residents? Ignore the irony of a footwork event being called a blowout, and concentrate on the lineup.

I'm particularly excited to see Flippy do his thing - though I'm not sure if he's MCing or playing a DJ set. Grimace is sure to bust out the oldschool 94 rave choonage as well, so you've got other reasons to get there early... other than $2 drinks from 9-10.

No guestlist. Check Footwork's site for more details.

Of course, this only scratches the surface of the great shows, so get out there and explore. After all, it's all good. ;)

Sundayfundays at Scotland Yard

Ahhhh the Esplanade... (noun: es-pluh-nahd. An open, level, public space, especially one serving for public walks or drives). Heh, you learn something every day. As the nearest real neighbourhood to the financial district, this place is rife with young professionals, downtown dwellers drawn in by the St. Lawrence market, and a few tourists checking out the Old Spaghetti Factory with their chubby little kids. It's also stocked with bars, restaurants, and little galleries that all seem out of the way. Sure, it's got a Biermarkt (the original, I think), and a Keg, but it's also got some solid pubs.

Among the solid pubs stands Scotland Yard, a pub that's graced the Esplanade for 25 years. Outside (like that's a concern at this type of year) they've got a great patio, with leafy trees providing good shade. Sitting on a quieter street, you'll feel a little removed from the hustle and or bustle of town. It's an odd vibe inside, with all sorts of antique-store clutter hanging from the ceiling - old fans & light fixtures, paintings, mirrors - the works. It's broken down into two wings, with a big C-shaped bar in the middle, as you come in. There are a few TV & projection screens scattered about. A bit more of a clean, modern feel than the worn-in pub feel that us white boys prefer, but an easy place to be in, nonetheless.

What gets this place into the list of good things? I'm glad you asked. Really. Its combination of awesomeness on Sundays is something I haven't found anywhere else in the city yet.

$6 double caesars. Yes, that delicious mashup of clam, tomato and vodka is a frickin' bargain on the day when 83% of the normal human beings in this city are nursing a hangover. They're served with an extreme bean instead of celery, for major league bonus points.

$5 pints. This included Mill Street's delicious Tankhouse lager. Solid price for the 'hood.

$6 wings. They came out hot & fresh, though the hottest they could do is Frank's Extra Hot, which is a good indicator that a place isn't serious about dem chickens. The fact that they were on sale on a Sunday afternoon (2-6 pm) is what makes it awesome. Standard size, and not particularly special, they did hit the spot. Y'know... the spot right between the double caesar and the pint of dark beer. Yeahhhhh....

Service. I can't remember her name for the life of me, but the server was not only fun, quick-witted, and a giver of solid high-fives, but she was killing a hangover at the same time. I can only imagine her operating at full capacity. Attentive, and part of the experience without hovering or harassing. Well done, blonde girl. Well done.

Long story short, roll out of bed on a Sunday afternoon, and limp down to the Yard for a SundayFunday startup before hitting the north market for some groceries. It's all good.

Unmugged at the Guvernment

On a big night, there are few experiences like the Guv. It draws the world's top club spinners, massive crowds, great lighting, sound, it's got creative spaces that make it feel more like a circus than a nightclub at times. It's one of Toronto's only superclubs, following in the great British tradition. OK, sure, on a regular night it's just somewhere to go when you've got nowhere else to go, and that's where this story comes from.

There were originally five of us headed out - and the names have been changed to protect the innocent. ST, the touring jazz musician, Karstar, the talented photographer, and me, the suit. It was a foggy Friday night in the city, and a couple of chicks from back home made the last minute trip down to the city to experience the nightlife. Karstar had spots on the list, so Guv it was. Once the broads eventually got themselves primped and preened, we headed off to the club.

We immediately lost track of the chicks, who bailed to head out to the Brant House... which, if you're not familiar is a place where bankers, lawyers and 'roid monkeys go to use their money to impress trashy orange girls from the suburbs. I'm sure they fit right in.

The night was a pretty standard night out. A few drinks, the DJ was playing a solid set in the main room, and Asian people were piling up in drifts on the floor. It didn't stay standard for long though. The inevitable result of a few beers is that they'll need to be let out at some later point, and I took my leave to do just that. Popped into the first stall that became available, and I was, for lack of a better term, taking one of the leaks of my life, when what I can best describe as a gigantic, black-clad gorilla burst into the stall.

"Alright" quoth the gorilla, "you've got two options. Either I drag you outside and tell the cops I caught you doing drugs in here, or we can come to some sort of arrangement."

Keep in mind, I'm still peeing as this is happening.

"You can't be serious."

"Alright, you want to do this the hard way?" the gorilla stepped closer. Am I about to be beaten, mugged or raped here? Jesus. "How much is it worth to you."

I'd heard about shit like this before at clubs and raves, but never had I experienced it in 14 odd years of late night adventuring. Bouncers supplementing their incomes. The cops outside don't care - they'll just sit there, watch the bouncer eject some dude on the pavement, then book him for the drugs the bouncer claims to have flushed. No investigation, just taking the word of the employee over the patron.

"Dude, I've got like $20 left." Done peeing by this point, so at least I don't have my dick in my hand while I'm being mugged anymore.

"Give me your watch."

"Seriously dude? Seriously? You're rolling me for my watch?"

"Give me your fucking watch, or you might just slip on some water and hurt yourself."

Watch and last $20 surrendered. I go free.

But wait, isn't this "It's all good?" Shouldn't there be a happy ending, like the massages on Soi 7 in Bangkok? Read on, reader.

So I link back up with the boys, and tell them the story. They've both heard of it happening before, but never known who it happens to. We curse bouncers, Karstar buys a round of sympathy drinks, and we retire to the patio to see what we can salvage of the night. Out on the patio, we tell a few other people the story. Shock on everyone's part. Feeling a little better about it, and determined not to let it ruin my Friday, we head back inside to make some new friends.

About 10 minutes later, Karstar finds me.

"Dude, remember that guy I got the smoke from on the patio? He found your watch."

No fucking way.

Way.

We fight our way through the crowd, link up with the random dude from the patio, who takes us to the front door to the head bouncer. The bouncer asks me to describe my watch, and the guy that rolled me for it, then goes outside.

Random patio dude explains that right after I'd told the story on the patio, he'd gone in to the washroom, and the guy did the same thing to him. Unfortunately for the gorilla, random patio dude went to school with the head bouncer. The head bouncer returns with my watch, and a genuine apology.

"You should've told someone right away man. We don't tolerate that kind of shit here."

The only downside is that I missed the part where the two head bouncers took this guy off-shift, fired him, and reported him to the cops for theft. That, Ms. Morissette, is ironic.

There was much rejoicing. Cool people met. Night saved. It's all good.

Mo'vember in To'ronto...

The campaign originated in 2004, and has picked up steam throughout. The first Canadian iteration was in 2007. Now, when a guy sprouts a mo', the reaction is only 50% horror, and 50% curiousity as to whether or not it's for a charitable purpose. In this case, the charity is mens' health in general, and prostate cancer in specific. There are some spectacular mo's... in some spectacular designs...

I dare say that my mo shall be far less spectacular, and more on the "dirty pedo" side of the scale... but it's all for a good cause.

So here's to all the T.O. Mo Bros, sacrificing their dignity, and any chance at an intimate encounter with a woman who hasn't seen the following video:

Remember, you're not a whore if you're doing it for charity. It's all good.