Little City

Artist profile: She’s a mystery to me by the Royal Family

Little City has always been a venue to encourage people to be creative – to make things just for the sake of making with the hopes that some sustainable joy would emerge. So I’m not sure why I was so surprised when ragtag jam sessions turned into a lady band and then into a Arcade Fire jam night and these days a dedicated and functioning jam band. We go by the name the Royal Family because three of us have royal middle names (Charles, Diana and Elizabeth respectively.) It is sincerely the highlight of my week creating new songs and covering old ones.

Last week we recorded a cover of Roy Orbison’s She’s a Mystery to Me on my iphone as a birthday present for Lisa’s dad. It goes a little like this: She's a mystery to me by the Royal Family

On this song:
Lisa Devries – Lead vocals, Uke
Andrew Patten & Ben Harris – Guitar, Background vocals
Ali Symons – Flute, Percussion
Scott Barnett – Bass
and yours truly on the jingle bells.

Artist profile: Little Red by Julie Kraulis

Julie Kraulis is a talented illustrator currently working on a narrative portfolio. Her idea was to combine classic children’s literature with her elegant style for a fresh take on the stories. Pictured above is the beginnings of a story about Little Red Riding Hood.

Artist profile: poster by Lisa Devries

Lisa Devries and her sister Kim will be going to the Rogers Cup tonight in style with this hand drawn poster of the Fed himself. Two thumbs up from Little City Devries!

Artist profile: music by Ariel Rubin

I like Ariel Rubin. She’s an inspiring triple threat: photographer, musician and co-creator of one of my all time favourite zines It’ll Happen.. From our days at Ryerson and post-grad jobs I knew she was a stellar photographer and the zine seemed logical and organic but when she announced last year she had an album of music to release I was pleasantly surprised. Where did that voice come from Ariel? And when did you learn the ukulele?

On August 11th she released her self titled sophomore album with cover art by fellow Ryerson grad Becky Comber. You can listen to Ariel’s tunes on myspace and purchase them on itunes.

In the hopes that your calling will call out to you

In the back of Roald Dahl’s The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar (a book of short stories I happen to be
reading backwards), is a tale called “Lucky Break”. In which a children’s lit god exposes the accidental
nature of his journey to become just that.

As a young man, Mr. Dahl chose adventure over academia (if you read his tales of British boarding-
school horror, you will understand why), and was unexpectedly rewarded with a fateful encounter: C.S.
Forester asking to pick his brain for tales of war-pilot gallantry.

After a failed attempt to mix lunching with note-taking, 26-year-old Dahl offered to send the author
some anecdotes to be re-written into a piece for the Saturday Evening Post. The letter he gets back
starts off: Dear RD, You were meant to give me notes, not a finished story. I’m bowled over. Your
piece is marvellous. It is the work of a gifted writer.
And it goes on in this fashion.

My reaction? Chills, watery eyes, and a hopeful heart. As much as I have tried to ingrain in my adult
brain the notion that hard work always trumps talent- that the latter is useless without the former-
there is something magical about such an extraordinary gift being effortlessly stumbled upon. Such
kismet! Most of us are likely no Roald Dahl (and Dahl was quick to point out that he was no Charles
Dickens), but let such tales inspire us to keep our eyes peeled for those who may be something else
altogether.

Written by Little City’s Dar Mustafa

Us kids know

Arcade Fire’s meteoric rise to indie fame following the release of their 2004 album Funeral is well documented. Less well documented (but available for readin’ on this blog) is the attempt of a ragtag bunch of Toronto folks to perform the entire album in a big Toronto church on a warm Toronto evening.

Powerout (by the Arcade Fire)- Funeral at Knox from Little City on Vimeo.

Since I was there for both of these phenomena (one in the chronological sense, the other in the flesh), when Arcade Fire announced that they’d be playing back-to-back shows at the Danforth Music Hall, with one-per-person tickets being sold the day of each event, it didn’t take long for me to step into the nearest phone booth, make the necessary transformations, and emerge a proper adolescent.

Adolescent because I waited, with good friends and few breaks, under an ominous sky, for four and a half hours before the ticket window opened at noon on Saturday. (Despite the early arrival, I was thirty-seventh in line.)

Adolescent because once my wristband, gloriously emblazoned with the band’s name, was snapped on, I naturally joined a new, shorter line, made up of sixteen-year-olds who had made the trip from suburbia and now had nothing better to do than wait for the show to begin. At 8:30 p.m.

Adolescent because I couldn’t resist subtly flashing the hot-pink wristband to those way back in line; to sullen counter girls who wanted to attend but had to work; to underhoused elderly men clutching brown bags as they tripped past the queue. Shamelessly, I brandished that wristband like a trophy.

And, shamelessly, I got my six-foot self right to the front of that auditorium, right between the elbows of my eager pals, right beneath the sweaty hair flings of Richard Reed Parry. When I was able to stop fretting that I was behaving like a besotted h-skooler, the show blew me away. Win’s tortured vocals and massive presence. William’s enthused glockenspiel chiming. Régine’s robotic, doleful dancing.

So, a thirteen-hour wait thoroughly worth it, we agreed. We acknowledged that we might have shown up at 4 p.m., joined the line, and wound up in roughly the same position at the stage, but comforted ourselves with the fact that we couldn’t have known this. We spoke of how we couldn’t have brought ourselves to give up our “advantage” near the front of the line. This advantage was our rallying cry, what sustained us through the obnoxious banter of linemates and sudden downpours. Our real advantage, of course, was living in a city where music and friendship can intersect in such sudden and thrilling ways. And the luxury of acting like kids with nothing better to do on a Saturday than wait all day for a really good band, and finally fall asleep with their songs in our heads.

Written by Lisa Devries
Arcade Fire stage photo by Jesse Hair

Eye candy: Pen story

There are plenty of stop motion videos out there, but this one gets me. The use of photographs draws me in (no surprise there!) It is after all an advertisement for a camera – but kudos to the creators for creating a concise and wonderful narrative.

The PEN Story from PENStory on Vimeo.