Toronto pleasures

Last night I dreamt that the landlord had kicked out my neighbours. They had lived in a rickety building next door, rather than upstairs. He tore it down and paved it over so that no one could ever live there again. Somehow this made more space in my apartment. An extra bedroom appeared. A tiny bedroom and living room merged into one large room, part of which I turned into a dining room, making more space in the kitchen.

This could be wishful thinking. More likely it was due to the fact that I was sleeping contentedly next to Danny djjo. When he comes to Guelph, he marvels at how peaceful the streets are, free of the throbbing undercurrent of a large city. When I visit him, I notice how peaceful the house is at night. At home, even my sleeping brain is alert for the potential onset of drunken swearing, ape-like beings trudging up and downstairs, and killer dogs being walked every morning at 5 a.m.

Of course there's the added contentment that comes in the afterglow of plenty of good sex. As sure as the days have started growing longer, my libido has returned. Danny has recovered from the nasty cold he had at New Years. Once again we're shagging like the weekend we met.

Here is one nice thing about temperatures in the minus twenties. When you're slogging along a snowy street in a stinging wind, when your beards freeze and your shoulders ache from shivering, it's awfully nice to know the handsome cub bundled beside you will soon be wrapped naked in your arms in a warm bed.

I get two whole weeks of this. I'm very lucky.

Tafelmusik with Isabel Bayrakdarian

Danny took me out on a wonderful date last evening. One of his co-workers had given him tickets to see a performance by Tafelmusik, Toronto's outstanding Baroque orchestra, at the impressive Trinity St. Paul's Centre.

I had never seen anything like this. I was raised on a solid 19th Century repertoire. My parents took me to see all kinds of performances, especially the Windsor Symphony, the Windsor Light Opera, and the National Ballet of Canada. I liked the walloping sound of a full Romantic orchestra, 80 or 100 pieces. I would barely listen to Bach, let alone Georg Philipp Telemann. When CBC Radio started airing performances by Tafelmusik, a new ensemble 25 years ago, I would switch to the Detroit station instead.

My taste for chamber music evolved later. First I fell in love with Borodin's String Quartet No. 2 and one of Schubert's Piano Trios. From there I moved onto Dvorak, Schumann and Brahms. I still haven't explored much further than that.

Last night's performance was a revelation: 19 musicians on a stage, eight violins, three violas, two cellos, one bass, two oboes, one bassoon, a harpsichord and one unknown contraption that looked like a giant lute but with a long neck (it was almost as tall as the bass, will someone help me out and tell me what this is called?). It felt more like I was watching a jazz ensemble, so vital was the interaction between the players, but apparently this is part of the unique quality of Tafelmusik that has made this orchestra so popular. Director Jeanne Lamon on first violin is a singularly warm and dynamic personage.

The first piece, Telemann's Suite for two oboes, bassoon and strings in A minor, would have been enough to convince me I need to become better acquainted with Baroque music.

Then the orchestra performed the Overture to Giulio Cesare in Egitto by Handel, and with that the soloist came onstage. Canadian soprano Isabel Bayrakdarian wore a shimmering orange robe designed after the style of the ancient Egyptians. She performed four arias plus an encore from different settings of Cleopatra, which apparently was a favourite theme of early 18th Century operas.

The first one was a show-stopper, "Tra le procelle assorto," by Carl Heinrich Graun. Her stellar coloratura was backed up by bright lyricism and a dramatic presence onstage. She seemed to genuinely enjoy herself and the accompanying musicians.

After intermission, she appeared in a different costume, a sleeveless orange dress glittering with sequins. Around her neck was a red choker with gold clasps in the form of viper's heads. In the final scene, "Mein Leben ist hin," by Johann Mattheson, she took this off her neck and dramatized Cleopatra's suicide. In the moments of the character's death, the strings play a venomous tremolo, an unusually literal device for Baroque music. Combined with Barakdarian's powerful performance, it made the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

For an encore she turned to the tender aria, "Gute Nacht" ("Goodnight"), from the same opera, accompanied gently by only cello, harpsichord and that bizarre lute. It's a beautiful song, which I kept expecting to break into "You are the promised kiss of springtime" (All the things you are).

At the concert we saw our friend Rod. Afterward the three of us trudged down Bloor Street to Futures Bakery for coffee and dessert.

For an evening like that I was happy to go out in the cold. It was even worth getting out bed. Of course, Danny is the first guy who has ever taken me on a date to see live orchestral music, so it was a pretty special night. I probably wouldn't have cared if the performance was less than outstanding quality, but it wasn't.