Hawksley, Julie Delpy and a jazzy morning

First of all, Hawksley was amazing. It was a wonderful fun incredible show despite some technical difficulties.

The best part of the show was that it was fun. There were all sorts of weird segues like when he jumped into The Culture Club's Karma Chameleon and then shifted to Starship's We Built This City showing that, for better or worse, he too was a child of the 80's. Sometimes you just had to marvel at the audacity of it all - the theatrical vocals, the screeching violin solos by Jesse Zubot, the fact that a show so big (it's Massey Hall!) could actually seem relaxed and intimate.

My favourite moment, though, was when the PA crapped out. It took the band a while to realize because their monitors were still working but, when they did, Hawksley stepped up. He borrowed an acoustic guitar from openers Hey Rosetta! (who were quite good, by the way) walked up to the front of the stage and sang to the crowd. When the PA kicked in halfway through the song, he switched back to his electric and finished the song with a flourish. It was only half a song, but it was a great moment, turning a gaffe into something to be remembered fondly.

The end came far too soon as far as I was concerned (isn't that always the case?). Unfortunately, it seems that Massey Hall has a curfew, so at 11 we were all sent out into the streets to mull over what a great show we had just witnessed.

This morning, I'm listening to jazz. For some reason, Saturday mornings and jazz just seem to go hand in hand for me. I guess I spent so many years working weekends that having a free Saturday morning just feels decadent. I get up slowly, read in bed for a bit, toss on jeans and a t-shirt and shuffle off for a cappuccino (decadence doesn't stand for my usual black coffee), come home and throw on some jazz while I plot my day (or blog, as I'm doing now).

Personal favourites for a Saturday? Dexter Gordon's Our Man in Paris, Coltrane's My Favourite Things, Mingus Ah Um. If it's a particularly sunny Saturday (I don't know why, but it has to be sunny), I'll put on Pharoah Sanders' Karma album and let my mind be opened by the 32 plus minute track The Creator Has a Master Plan. It's wave after wave of acid jazz wonkiness but it works.

Today I started with some Nina Simone. I'd never really heard her until I watched Before Sunset. Watching Julie Delpy's character talk about and sing along to Nina Simone sent me out to the jazz section of Sam The Record Man's (it's a good thing she wasn't talking about and grooving to scientology. . . ). It doesn't really matter how I found Ms Simone, though. I'm just glad I did.

Anyways, I've rambled on long enough. I'm off to Meet The Presses this afternoon. It's kind of a breakaway event started by one of the guys who started the original Small Press Book Fair. There was all kinds of ugliness and intrigue but the upshot is another chance to talk with authors and bookmakers. And hopefully not buy (too many) books.