I understand Canwest’s troubled history, having entered bankruptcy protection in late 2009, and selling its newspaper arm to creditors headed by National Post’s CEO Paul Godfrey. But the person from this new regime who has dictated that the Ottawa Citizen can no longer review ‘non-professional’ art forms has made a grave mistake. The vibrant sheen of our cultural community is presently being quietly diminished due to some asinine manager who lives, no doubt, in Toronto. Having said that, the people who are in charge of the Citizen must realize that this decision will have an adverse effect on their enlightened readership until a creative solution rectifies this lack of reportage. The idea of not covering such groups as the Ottawa Little Theatre, Savoy Society, Orpheus Musical Theatre Society, Ottawa Choral Society, Cantata Singers of Ottawa, Ottawa Bach Choir, Seventeen Voyces, and the Canadian Centennial Choir is an irresponsible one and only does Ottawa and its denizens an egregious disservice – culturally, socially and economically. I personally don’t care about Brad Pitt’s moustache, Mariah Carey’s strapless dresses (okay, maybe a little bit) or Lindsay Lohan’s latest lock-up, but I know that those of us who have worked in the trenches of the local arts’ scene for most of our professional adult lives feel completely betrayed. The Ottawa Citizen’s Arts & Entertainment section is rapidly becoming a wire-serviced American tabloid for the same reasons CBC Radio 2 became a vast, fatuous wasteland – near-sighted Philistinism.
Kevin Reeves
Seventeen Voyces, Director
Ottawa Regional Youth Choir, Director
Ottawa Choral Society, Associate Director
Former Citizen Subscriber
Friday, November 26, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
OCTranspo Blues
What is it about OCTranspo that makes me think of the phrase "cruel and unusual punishment?" Every time I stand at a bus stop, I imagine there is some kind of underground Control Centre connected to billions of dollars of surveillance cameras monitoring the bus stops most frequented by me. The Control Centre Official then radios the bus driver to take a break at least two stops before mine, or wherever the bend in the road occurs so that I can't see the driver entering the confectionary and buying a Joe Louis and a Mountain Dew, then returning to the bus in order to partake in his leisurely sugar fix. By this time, the 40 below temperature has welded my forehead to the timetable on the pole, making it impossible to see the bus even if it were approaching. (Either that, or the driver is instructed to take a one block detour, in order to bypass my stop altogether).
Conversely, whenever I'm in no rush to go anywhere - usually while ambling along Bank Street in beautiful weather, the number 1 and 7 buses gather in packs and slowly articulate themselves alongside me, occasionally stopping - the doors opening with exaggerated expectancy - to see if I might need a lift. "No thank you," I recently said, adjusting my meagre bag of groceries. "It's obvious I don't need your service today, isn't it?" Then turning on my heels, I screamed "I'm on to you" directly at the exorbitantly-priced camera, which I think was hidden in a nearby evergreen.
Since that incident, the Ottawa bus system no longer acknowledges my existence.
Conversely, whenever I'm in no rush to go anywhere - usually while ambling along Bank Street in beautiful weather, the number 1 and 7 buses gather in packs and slowly articulate themselves alongside me, occasionally stopping - the doors opening with exaggerated expectancy - to see if I might need a lift. "No thank you," I recently said, adjusting my meagre bag of groceries. "It's obvious I don't need your service today, isn't it?" Then turning on my heels, I screamed "I'm on to you" directly at the exorbitantly-priced camera, which I think was hidden in a nearby evergreen.
Since that incident, the Ottawa bus system no longer acknowledges my existence.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
The Genius of Buster Keaton
Okay, I'm in Buster Keaton mode, with a Seventeen Voyces' presentation of his 1927 masterpiece, 'The General' at the end of this month.
'The General' is listed at number 18 on the AFI's (American Film Institute) list of the top 100 films, and it's a dandy. I've seen it more than thirty times and for some reason, have never tired of it. Keaton interwove a dramatic true incident which took place during the American Civil War with his unique brand of Vaudevillian comedy and topped it off with great physical daring-do.
1927 was the very year that the 'Talkies' came into being with Al Jolson's 'The Jazz Singer' and the very first Oscar winner - 'Wings.' But audiences had never seen anything quite like 'The General;' not only is it considered one of the most authentic looking pictures to depict the Civil War (based on Matthew Brady's photographs) but it is essentially one gigantic chase movie with very impressive locomotives and Buster Keaton running all over them as though they were just monster playgrounds. As usual, in his films, the gags are so well-timed and so elaborate, one wonders to what length the cast and crew had to go in order to set up a single shot.
Keaton's stunt work may not have been as death-defying as in some of his other films, but his acrobatics and graceful movement is sheer joy to watch. This is a man who started performing on the stage with his parents at the age of three. (I don't believe he even went to school - if he did, it was for a very short period). Audiences in the early 1900's thought Buster was actually a midget because his father rough-handled him so much during each show, they couldn't believe he was a child. The father was violent, drunken, verbally and physically abusive. The mother was a dull-witted and acquiescent accomplice. The child’s wide eyes stared out from a deathly white, transfixed face which showed no emotional reaction, whatever he was subjected to. Between the child’s shoulder-blades was fastened a suitcase handle, with which the father picked him up, shook him, swung him round, dropped him face down onto the ground, and hurled him repeatedly against furniture and walls. When the father tired of this he would screw a broom handle into a harness on the boy’s back, plunge him into cold water, and use him as a human mop to clean the floor. Finally the father would fling the limp body of his son into the middle of the crowd of people who had paid money to watch the molestation. The child had been treated in this way, every day, since the age of three.
Once there were some hecklers in the front row, and the enraged senior Keaton threw his son directly into their laps - breaking one of the men's ribs. Thousands of shows later, once the public discovered Buster's true age, they angrily demanded the Keaton family to show up in court, citing child abuse. Buster gamefully removed his shirt, miraculously revealing no bruises of any kind. The Keatons continued their show across the United States, and were highly regarded in the industry.
Fast forward two or three decades: Buster Keaton's most famous and dangerous stunt required him to stand motionless. It was during 'Steamboat Bill Jr.' as a hurricane created in typical Hollywood fashion - using giant fans - howled around him. The facade of a house is ripped from its studs and falls on top of Keaton. He is saved only because of a tiny open window that happens to fall exactly on the spot where he is standing - the frame barely missing either shoulder. The wall was a couple of thousand pounds, and was hoisted into place by a crane so that an 'X' could be marked on the ground where Keaton was to stand. Apparently most of the crew left while this sequence was filmed, and even the cameraman covered his eyes at the last second while he was still cranking. Had that wall settled into the ground in an inch or two, Keaton would have been killed. (Didn't they know about balsa wood back then...or stand-ins)?
As an historical footnote, the very first animated film incorporating sound was Walt Disney's 'Steamboat Willie' starring Mickey Mouse (in his first role) in 1928. It was based on Keaton's Steamboat Bill Jr.
Getting back to the stage relationship with his father, the brutality of their act laid the foundations not only for the hair-raising veracity of Buster Keaton’s stunts in the hilarious shorts he eventually made for Mack Sennett, but also, contrarily, for the quality of somnambulistic beauty which suffuses the great feature films he was later to both star in and direct. In films such as The General, The Navigator, Sherlock Junior, and Our Hospitality, Keaton attained heights of physical comedy never since equalled, uniquely achieved among silent comedians and clowns with an absolute lack of pathos or sentiment.
This leads naturally to the whole notion of Keaton vs. Chaplin. The debate still rages on as to who was the 'better' of the two. They were both diminutive men from poor backgrounds who became uncompromising as entertainers and filmmakers. Chaplin was much more of a businessman who gained control of his material and later formed the original United Artists with Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks and D.W. Griffith. Keaton was the complete opposite with business; he let others look after it for him, until he lost control of his assets by the end of the '20's. He was much more interested in smoking, drinking and playing poker. Sadly, this spelled the end of his career and his fortunes, while Charlie lived out his days surrounded by extreme wealth.
When all is said and done, even though it really is like comparing apples and oranges (except in black & white) I've always appreciated Buster Keaton more than Chaplin. There is something more primal and melancholic about his character because one never felt he cared whether the audience cheered for him or not the way Chaplin's character does. His stone-faced persona which he learned on the Vaudeville stage also heightened that melancholy, whereas Chaplin's overwrought expressions and movement are to me a little saccharin. In the end, it really does come down to personal taste.
Keaton's influence was especially big on Jacques Tati as M. Hulot, Jackie Chan, Rowan Atkinson as Mr. Bean, Johnny Depp in 'Benny and Joon,' and all the Warner Brother cartoons. His films made a huge comeback in the 1960's, and he lived just long enough to see it happen.
Please copy and paste the following link for details of Seventeen Voyces' presentation of 'The General.'
http://www.seventeenvoyces.ca/concerts.html
'The General' is listed at number 18 on the AFI's (American Film Institute) list of the top 100 films, and it's a dandy. I've seen it more than thirty times and for some reason, have never tired of it. Keaton interwove a dramatic true incident which took place during the American Civil War with his unique brand of Vaudevillian comedy and topped it off with great physical daring-do.
1927 was the very year that the 'Talkies' came into being with Al Jolson's 'The Jazz Singer' and the very first Oscar winner - 'Wings.' But audiences had never seen anything quite like 'The General;' not only is it considered one of the most authentic looking pictures to depict the Civil War (based on Matthew Brady's photographs) but it is essentially one gigantic chase movie with very impressive locomotives and Buster Keaton running all over them as though they were just monster playgrounds. As usual, in his films, the gags are so well-timed and so elaborate, one wonders to what length the cast and crew had to go in order to set up a single shot.
Keaton's stunt work may not have been as death-defying as in some of his other films, but his acrobatics and graceful movement is sheer joy to watch. This is a man who started performing on the stage with his parents at the age of three. (I don't believe he even went to school - if he did, it was for a very short period). Audiences in the early 1900's thought Buster was actually a midget because his father rough-handled him so much during each show, they couldn't believe he was a child. The father was violent, drunken, verbally and physically abusive. The mother was a dull-witted and acquiescent accomplice. The child’s wide eyes stared out from a deathly white, transfixed face which showed no emotional reaction, whatever he was subjected to. Between the child’s shoulder-blades was fastened a suitcase handle, with which the father picked him up, shook him, swung him round, dropped him face down onto the ground, and hurled him repeatedly against furniture and walls. When the father tired of this he would screw a broom handle into a harness on the boy’s back, plunge him into cold water, and use him as a human mop to clean the floor. Finally the father would fling the limp body of his son into the middle of the crowd of people who had paid money to watch the molestation. The child had been treated in this way, every day, since the age of three.
Once there were some hecklers in the front row, and the enraged senior Keaton threw his son directly into their laps - breaking one of the men's ribs. Thousands of shows later, once the public discovered Buster's true age, they angrily demanded the Keaton family to show up in court, citing child abuse. Buster gamefully removed his shirt, miraculously revealing no bruises of any kind. The Keatons continued their show across the United States, and were highly regarded in the industry.
Fast forward two or three decades: Buster Keaton's most famous and dangerous stunt required him to stand motionless. It was during 'Steamboat Bill Jr.' as a hurricane created in typical Hollywood fashion - using giant fans - howled around him. The facade of a house is ripped from its studs and falls on top of Keaton. He is saved only because of a tiny open window that happens to fall exactly on the spot where he is standing - the frame barely missing either shoulder. The wall was a couple of thousand pounds, and was hoisted into place by a crane so that an 'X' could be marked on the ground where Keaton was to stand. Apparently most of the crew left while this sequence was filmed, and even the cameraman covered his eyes at the last second while he was still cranking. Had that wall settled into the ground in an inch or two, Keaton would have been killed. (Didn't they know about balsa wood back then...or stand-ins)?
As an historical footnote, the very first animated film incorporating sound was Walt Disney's 'Steamboat Willie' starring Mickey Mouse (in his first role) in 1928. It was based on Keaton's Steamboat Bill Jr.
Getting back to the stage relationship with his father, the brutality of their act laid the foundations not only for the hair-raising veracity of Buster Keaton’s stunts in the hilarious shorts he eventually made for Mack Sennett, but also, contrarily, for the quality of somnambulistic beauty which suffuses the great feature films he was later to both star in and direct. In films such as The General, The Navigator, Sherlock Junior, and Our Hospitality, Keaton attained heights of physical comedy never since equalled, uniquely achieved among silent comedians and clowns with an absolute lack of pathos or sentiment.
This leads naturally to the whole notion of Keaton vs. Chaplin. The debate still rages on as to who was the 'better' of the two. They were both diminutive men from poor backgrounds who became uncompromising as entertainers and filmmakers. Chaplin was much more of a businessman who gained control of his material and later formed the original United Artists with Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks and D.W. Griffith. Keaton was the complete opposite with business; he let others look after it for him, until he lost control of his assets by the end of the '20's. He was much more interested in smoking, drinking and playing poker. Sadly, this spelled the end of his career and his fortunes, while Charlie lived out his days surrounded by extreme wealth.
When all is said and done, even though it really is like comparing apples and oranges (except in black & white) I've always appreciated Buster Keaton more than Chaplin. There is something more primal and melancholic about his character because one never felt he cared whether the audience cheered for him or not the way Chaplin's character does. His stone-faced persona which he learned on the Vaudeville stage also heightened that melancholy, whereas Chaplin's overwrought expressions and movement are to me a little saccharin. In the end, it really does come down to personal taste.
Keaton's influence was especially big on Jacques Tati as M. Hulot, Jackie Chan, Rowan Atkinson as Mr. Bean, Johnny Depp in 'Benny and Joon,' and all the Warner Brother cartoons. His films made a huge comeback in the 1960's, and he lived just long enough to see it happen.
Please copy and paste the following link for details of Seventeen Voyces' presentation of 'The General.'
http://www.seventeenvoyces.ca/concerts.html
Friday, October 1, 2010
State of the Art; Art of the State
Went to Telefilm Canada's web site recently to see what kind of films are being financed and subsequently unseen by Canadians this year.
I wasn't at all surprised to discover that of the 53 feature films financed, 64% of those films were produced out of Quebec!
But wait! Before you start bandying about epithets such as 'racist' and 'xenophobe,' I would like to take this opportunity to extol the virtues of Cinema in Quebec; it is by far one of the best cultural ambassadors we have to offer the rest of the world. In fact, I want to come back in my next life as a French filmmaker - why? Because there is a warmth, an earthiness, a quirkiness, a humanism, and a great sense of ironic humour about their films. There is also a deep-rooted cinematographic artistry which sometimes tends to elude more commercially-minded filmmakers of the other Solitude.
The Quebecois understand this - just by virtue of being next to English Canada and the States - which is why they have their own distinctive industry and star-system. I would much rather watch the thoughtful, provocative, artistic films of Denys Arcand, than say the chilly, calculating, cerebral, aloof, and in the end, not very interesting films of Atom Egoyan.
It didn't help in the 1970's when doctors, lawyers, used car salesmen, and other non-producers in English Canada took advantage of the generous 100% tax incentive of the Trudeau/Francis Fox era. They tainted the Canadian film industry by making the worst low-budget drivel this side of Roger Corman just so they could give their drinking buddies a terrific tax break. At the same time, the Australians were given a tax incentive of 150% and produced magnificent directors such as Bruce Beresford, Peter Weir, Gillian Armstrong, Paul Cox, Fred Schepisi and George Miller. These Wizards of Oz ushered in a new era of films such as 'My Brilliant Career,' 'Picnic at Hanging Rock,' 'The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith,' 'Breaker Morant' and 'The Getting of Wisdom.' Meanwhile, the Canucks had to console themselves with films such as 'Terror Train.' We are still recovering...
There is a difference between a sincere, culturally cognizant art form, and the mini-mogul wannabe lifestyle that certain latté-sipping Toronto producers with cool crimson-framed glasses frequenting Hazelton Lanes tend to gravitate toward. (Wow, three hyphens in one sentence)! Thankfully, this is something the government officials at Telefilm have discerned, and are rewarding those who are in cinema for the right reasons.
Some of you cynics out there in Blogland may not agree, or care. What does it matter - you might say - the Americans have control of our screens anyway.
I wasn't at all surprised to discover that of the 53 feature films financed, 64% of those films were produced out of Quebec!
But wait! Before you start bandying about epithets such as 'racist' and 'xenophobe,' I would like to take this opportunity to extol the virtues of Cinema in Quebec; it is by far one of the best cultural ambassadors we have to offer the rest of the world. In fact, I want to come back in my next life as a French filmmaker - why? Because there is a warmth, an earthiness, a quirkiness, a humanism, and a great sense of ironic humour about their films. There is also a deep-rooted cinematographic artistry which sometimes tends to elude more commercially-minded filmmakers of the other Solitude.
The Quebecois understand this - just by virtue of being next to English Canada and the States - which is why they have their own distinctive industry and star-system. I would much rather watch the thoughtful, provocative, artistic films of Denys Arcand, than say the chilly, calculating, cerebral, aloof, and in the end, not very interesting films of Atom Egoyan.
It didn't help in the 1970's when doctors, lawyers, used car salesmen, and other non-producers in English Canada took advantage of the generous 100% tax incentive of the Trudeau/Francis Fox era. They tainted the Canadian film industry by making the worst low-budget drivel this side of Roger Corman just so they could give their drinking buddies a terrific tax break. At the same time, the Australians were given a tax incentive of 150% and produced magnificent directors such as Bruce Beresford, Peter Weir, Gillian Armstrong, Paul Cox, Fred Schepisi and George Miller. These Wizards of Oz ushered in a new era of films such as 'My Brilliant Career,' 'Picnic at Hanging Rock,' 'The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith,' 'Breaker Morant' and 'The Getting of Wisdom.' Meanwhile, the Canucks had to console themselves with films such as 'Terror Train.' We are still recovering...
There is a difference between a sincere, culturally cognizant art form, and the mini-mogul wannabe lifestyle that certain latté-sipping Toronto producers with cool crimson-framed glasses frequenting Hazelton Lanes tend to gravitate toward. (Wow, three hyphens in one sentence)! Thankfully, this is something the government officials at Telefilm have discerned, and are rewarding those who are in cinema for the right reasons.
Some of you cynics out there in Blogland may not agree, or care. What does it matter - you might say - the Americans have control of our screens anyway.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Pottawa & Opera
I think it's fantastic when someone like Michael Potter - a retired high-tech guy - gives all kinds of money to the Arts.
For an Opera Lyra matinee of Puccini's 'Turandot' for which a couple of thousand school kids were shipped in to the NAC, Mr. Potter donated tens of thousands of dollars to pay for the entire performance.
This act of munificence comes from a fellow who once ran Cognos Inc. and also has to annually fork out an egregious amount of money (a Canadian record) to an unmentionably avaricious woman who knew a good thing when she found it.
So where are the other Michael Potter's of Ottawa? This city is rife with wealth, but funding for the Arts on a municipal level, is fiscally as dry as Larry O'Brien's scalp. This place could be a hotbed of cultural activity without relying so much on what seems to be the same tireless individuals constantly tilting at windmills. Impresarios such as Julian Armour continually come across more red tape than he has volunteers - the altruistic grass-roots people that really keep this place alive.
As an aside, too bad Potter's nephew wasn't Harry, then he could fill his vintage aviation museum with a series of Quidditch broomsticks, and really make the sky the limit.
For an Opera Lyra matinee of Puccini's 'Turandot' for which a couple of thousand school kids were shipped in to the NAC, Mr. Potter donated tens of thousands of dollars to pay for the entire performance.
This act of munificence comes from a fellow who once ran Cognos Inc. and also has to annually fork out an egregious amount of money (a Canadian record) to an unmentionably avaricious woman who knew a good thing when she found it.
So where are the other Michael Potter's of Ottawa? This city is rife with wealth, but funding for the Arts on a municipal level, is fiscally as dry as Larry O'Brien's scalp. This place could be a hotbed of cultural activity without relying so much on what seems to be the same tireless individuals constantly tilting at windmills. Impresarios such as Julian Armour continually come across more red tape than he has volunteers - the altruistic grass-roots people that really keep this place alive.
As an aside, too bad Potter's nephew wasn't Harry, then he could fill his vintage aviation museum with a series of Quidditch broomsticks, and really make the sky the limit.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
CBC's big Dick
Why do Canadian cultural institutions constantly insist on hiring toxic bureaucrats who know very little about Canadian culture?
CBC in its finite wisdom six years ago hired Richard Stursberg - the man who nearly destroyed Telefilm because he was interested solely in making the place an American cloning device. It may have ended up being a financially viable idea, except the decision-makers responsible decided to green-light absolute clap-trap - devoid of any indigenous character whatsoever. They were expensive movies with cardboard actors, generic plots, and huge financial losses. Telefilm finally got rid of him, as did CBC just a month ago, for similar reasons.
Stursberg became hated by virtually every employee of the CBC because of his smugness, weird non-sequiturs, and for making Peter Mansbridge stand up while reading the news.
His other accomplishments include:
- a bitter 7 week lockout during his second year
- the loss of the broadcasting contract for the Olympics
- the loss of the broadcasting contract for the Grey Cup
- the loss of the broadcasting contract for curling
- the loss of the Hockey Night in Canada theme song
- the complete revamping of Radio 2 which has lost 20% of its faithful fan base
- the complete revamping of CBC Newsworld which has lost viewers to CTV
- sold off 1000 hours of CBC programming assets to foreign distributors
Ian Morrison, a spokesman for the watchdog group Friends of Canadian Broadcasting, says Stursberg was appointed "as a complete outsider" with no previous radio or television production, scheduling or marketing experience.
In fact, Stursberg didn't even know that CBC had a radio station when he accepted the job...until he pretty much destroyed it.
He was most likely chosen because he is the son of famed foreign correspondent - Peter Stursberg - who ran around the world, reporting back to Canada, but hardly living here. That means little Ricky didn't grow up with 'Friendly Giant' & 'Don Messer's Jubilee' and doesn't give a rat's ass about what makes this country distinctive from the States.
So now Head Honcho of CBC - lawyer and sports colour commentator, Hubert Lacroix - has dismissed Richard Stursberg, saying: "We are in the midst of developing a new strategic plan that will guide CBC/Radio-Canada through the next five years. This is the opportune time to bring new leadership...." meaning, the CBC has no idea what direction it's taking, as long as it's not Richard Stursberg's.
Gosh, Telefilm could have told Lacroix that seven years ago. But at least Stursberg was savvy enough to buy 'Jeopardy' and 'Wheel of Fortune.' Fortunately, Alex Trebek just happens to be a Ukrainian-Canadian from Sudbury.
CBC in its finite wisdom six years ago hired Richard Stursberg - the man who nearly destroyed Telefilm because he was interested solely in making the place an American cloning device. It may have ended up being a financially viable idea, except the decision-makers responsible decided to green-light absolute clap-trap - devoid of any indigenous character whatsoever. They were expensive movies with cardboard actors, generic plots, and huge financial losses. Telefilm finally got rid of him, as did CBC just a month ago, for similar reasons.
Stursberg became hated by virtually every employee of the CBC because of his smugness, weird non-sequiturs, and for making Peter Mansbridge stand up while reading the news.
His other accomplishments include:
- a bitter 7 week lockout during his second year
- the loss of the broadcasting contract for the Olympics
- the loss of the broadcasting contract for the Grey Cup
- the loss of the broadcasting contract for curling
- the loss of the Hockey Night in Canada theme song
- the complete revamping of Radio 2 which has lost 20% of its faithful fan base
- the complete revamping of CBC Newsworld which has lost viewers to CTV
- sold off 1000 hours of CBC programming assets to foreign distributors
Ian Morrison, a spokesman for the watchdog group Friends of Canadian Broadcasting, says Stursberg was appointed "as a complete outsider" with no previous radio or television production, scheduling or marketing experience.
In fact, Stursberg didn't even know that CBC had a radio station when he accepted the job...until he pretty much destroyed it.
He was most likely chosen because he is the son of famed foreign correspondent - Peter Stursberg - who ran around the world, reporting back to Canada, but hardly living here. That means little Ricky didn't grow up with 'Friendly Giant' & 'Don Messer's Jubilee' and doesn't give a rat's ass about what makes this country distinctive from the States.
So now Head Honcho of CBC - lawyer and sports colour commentator, Hubert Lacroix - has dismissed Richard Stursberg, saying: "We are in the midst of developing a new strategic plan that will guide CBC/Radio-Canada through the next five years. This is the opportune time to bring new leadership...." meaning, the CBC has no idea what direction it's taking, as long as it's not Richard Stursberg's.
Gosh, Telefilm could have told Lacroix that seven years ago. But at least Stursberg was savvy enough to buy 'Jeopardy' and 'Wheel of Fortune.' Fortunately, Alex Trebek just happens to be a Ukrainian-Canadian from Sudbury.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Singing in Canada
Canada has produced an amazing array of musicians - the list of top-notch classical singers alone is enough to make St. Cecilia ratchet up her organ bench to its top notch. One only needs to consider early beacons of warbling icons such as Emma Albani, Lois Marshall, Maureen Forrester, Jon Vickers, George London and Louis Quilico. Today we have singers such as Isabel Bayrakdarian, Measha Brueggergosman, and much easier ones to spell, such as Ben Heppner and Gerald Finley. But what is it in this country that keeps spawning such uvulatic behemoths? I have a few theories, but the most important attributes which all of these great artists have shared are the unbelievably long Canadian winters and Kraft Dinner. Historically, it has been just too freaking cold to do anything but stay indoors, vocalize, and build up a tremendous reserve of carbohydrates. Kraft Dinner to the Canuck singer is as the potato was to the 19th century Irishman - lots of starch, inexpensive and no fuss to prepare.
(A little talent may have something to do with it too).
(A little talent may have something to do with it too).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)