One of the reasons we ended up out on the town pretty much every night was the hostel lounge. The lounge itself was alright, with a moderately priced little bar, a big screen TV, a pool table, and a courtyard, but the crowd there was a bit of a turnoff. Every night it was the same mix CD playing while the same frat boy types hung around the pool table or buried their faces in their laptops. I heard more Sublime in the short amounts of time I spent there than I’ve heard in years. And while I was keeping up with e-mail/Twitter/Facebook while I was there, it was definitely a low priority. I remember leaving for breakfast one morning, then coming back 3 or 4 hours later to find the same kids in the exact same spot on the couches, laptops propped up on their knees, no one talking to anyone else. Sort of defeats the point of travelling if you ask me.
Not to say there weren’t interesting people there. We had some nice conversations with some Brits, some Aussies, a Newfie, some Carolinians. But the interesting people were the exceptions to the rule, for sure.
There were also the straight-up oddballs, like the large German fellow in our dorm room, who slept with a teddy bear, and kept getting up in the middle of the night to do god knows what. He had a tackle box full of little jars, and once or twice I saw him in the halls, picking up something from the floor and putting them inthe jars. He was also a raw foodie, and brought a bag full of raw vegetables down to breakfast with him every day, while the rest of us were eating pancakes. Nice enough guy, but definitely a bit off. There was also the crazy girl who checked in, then shortened her reservation in order to get money back for booze, drank enough to forget she had cancelled her reservation, and was rudely awakened by staff telling her to get out or pay up. I hear that after I left, there was some drama involving her stealing a dorm-mate’s underwear.
Anyways.
Picking up where I left off, mid-afternoon on Wednesday. We left Kindred and spent a little time resting up at the hostel, before heading out to West Queen West, a neighborhood whose name I love. It reminds me a little of Georgetown, or Ballard a few years ago. Still grimy, but cusping on gentrification. Pawn shops and laundromats stand shoulder to shoulder with boutiques and fancy cocktail lounges. We were on our way to a show at the Drake Hotel this evening. One of the local alt-weeklies had a listing for a show that was part of the X-Avant music festival, a showcase of experimental music spread over a few nights. This particular night was a tribute to the late Klaus Dinger, formerly of Kraftwerk, Neu!, and La Düsseldorf, all German experimental bands from the Krautrock scene (with the exception of electronic pioneers Kraftwerk, who are concurrent but tangential). As a big Neu! fan, I figured it could be interesting to hear some new takes on the Motorik style they created.
We arrived int he neighborhood early though, and scouted out a place for a pre-show drink. We ended up at the Cock & Tail, partly because it was absolutely dead inside, partly because it looked inviting, and partly for the name. We were the only customers at first, and spent some time chatting with the British bartender, who was listening to Grandaddy at the time. She had opened the bar somewhat recently, and was still trying to get it off the ground. Note to Torontonians: check out the Cock & Tail. Keep this awesome bar in business!
A new pair of customers showed up partway through our first beers, a gay Brit and his female Canadian roommate, and proceeded to liven things up. It was sort of a whirlwind of bullshit at that point, as they launched into stories of waiting tables in Vegas, meeting Elton John and Sting, pretending to be an out-of-towner at Toronto Pride in order to score free drinks, and huffing glue in the English suburbs. They guy also took quite a liking to Timm, and kept persistently and unsubtly hitting on him. I found it amusing, but I think Timm found it significantly less so. The pair did end up paying for our drinks without telling us though, so it wasn’t all bad.
Onwards to the Drake Hotel!
I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, but I was a bit underwhelmed. Some amateurish sound design pieces were played, followed by a band with about a dozen members playing what they seemed to think was a Motorik tribute. They had the right idea at the start, with two drummers pounding out a by-the-numbers imitation of the iconic drum pattern, but it quickly devolved into an hour long psychedelic noise jam. Band members cycled on and off stage in groups, while those remaining on stage did their best to miss the point entirely. Neu! was always about more than a propulsive beat, they had a lot of texture and dynamics in their work. This was just endless skronk with no structure. The “frontman” was dressed in Polyphonic Spree-esque robes, and spent time screaming inaudibly into a microphone over the cacophony, while a bored looking keyboard player sat off to the side fiddling with a Minimoog and Roland Space Echo.
We endured about 45 minutes of this, and caught a streetcar back to the hostel, discussing the difference between experimental music, good noise, and bullshit. We were on the same page about where this fit in that spectrum.
The next day started with what was becoming a morning routine; pancake breakfast at the hostel, followed by coffee at Timothy’s World Coffee, just down King Street. It was a chain coffee place, but it was close, and it was far better than the instant decaf they had at the hostel. Instant decaf? Really? Why even bother? Our next order of business was to check out some local comic shops. First on the list was Silver Snail, a store on Queen West that we’d passed once or twice. They had a large Watchmen display in the windows, and two floors of merchandise. The first floor was current comics, collectibles, and action figures, while the second floor had gaming merchandise, T-shirts, and more figures and toys. Certainly worth some time browsing, as their focus is much wider than just comic books. There was plenty of sci-fi/anime/pop culture ephemera to be had as well.
But the real excitement for comics shoppers in Toronto is to be found at the Beguiling, a comics store tucked into a little house behind the monstrosity that is Honest Ed’s. It’s on the smaller side, and densely packed, but the selection is pretty unbeatable. They carry everything from mainstream books, to indie comics from small publishers, to self-published minicomics, to books on comics culture and history. You name it, you can probably find it here. You might have to dig a bit. The store is well organized, but so dense as to be a little overwhelming. Their collection of original art, on display between the first and second floor, is pretty stellar as well. I ended up spending about $40 here, and could have spent more easily.
After the Beguiling, it seemed a little pointless to check out many other comic stores, and we ended up stopping at one of the ubiquitous streetside hot dog stands for lunch. These things are a bargain and a half, with a giant Polish dog for $3.50. They slice them open in a crisscross pattern while grilling them, to ensure they’re cooked all the way through, and the carts have a big selection of toppings. The only thing that they could stand to add would be some cheese, and this would be street food perfection.
The evening took us to yet another new neighborhood, way out West to the Polish enclave High Park. The main strip, Roncasvalles, was lined with Polish grocers, Catholic churches, and restaurants, with plenty of signage in Polish. (I don’t think I’ve mentioned it yet, but Toronto is very multi-lingual, and it was not uncommon to hear 3 or more languages being spoken on the streets at anyone time, with English, French and Chinese being the most common, though everything from Polish to Hindi was represented as well, depending on where you were). We walked up and down the strip before settling on an intimate looking little restaurant called Zagloba for dinner. They were playing Polish television and had a menu of traditional food, including an excellent schnitzel with fried egg on top.
We bussed ourselves back down to West Queen, and headed out to a club that we knew we just HAD to visit, ased on the name alone. This, of course, was the infamous Bovine Sex Club. The exterior is decorated with scrap metal and bicycle parts, with no signage advertising it’s existence. Tonight’s event was a rock and roll fashion show put on by a group called Stay Pushy. We hung out for a bit while the crowd increased, taking in the general goth/dive bar ambiance. There were four TVs behind the bar; from left to right they were playing Vermillion Pleasure Night (a bizarre Japanese sketch comedy/variety show with a pronounced gothic theme), a 70s-looking Western of some sort, Queen’s Live at Wembley concert video, and another screen repeating Vermillion Pleasure Night. That pretty much sums up the aesthetic of this place.
The fashion show wasn’t exactly cutting edge, though it was fun, and I got a few good pictures despite the almost total lack of usable light. It was basically hip street wear, tight jeans and printed hoodies and the like. Afterwards, they had an airbush artist on stage painting clothing on a topless woman, which I suppose is in keeping with the fashion theme of the night? Or perhaps just an exuse to show some breasts. On that note, we called it a night.
I thought this was going to be my last Toronto post, but there’s enough material for one more. Hold tight! Good times ahead!
