Dengue Fever embarked on a 12-day, 14-gig, 10-city tour about a week after the U.S. and international release of their latest album The Deepest Lake. Zac Holtzman, the band’s bearded guitarist/vocalist, talked to Core Magazines about their adventures on the road, how they ended up together and some memorable moments they’ve shared.
What do you do when you’re alone, without communication devices, in an unfamiliar city in the middle of a festival with a million revellers from seven continents? Well, a New Yorker would go back to the car and wait patiently until her friends came to the same conclusion.
The frequent appearance of hearts in his photographs may be interpreted as some kind of sign – a pending miracle, an awakening, a message from the universe – or just one great, big coincidence. Whatever the reason, artist Stephen Hues accepts that hearts just always seem to appear to him or he is drawn to objects that contain them.
Crime Writers of Canada’s (CWC) rather long – shortlist – of nominees for the 2015 Arthur Ellis Awards announced last night in Toronto includes Margaret Atwood.
It took a chance meeting and a bizarre collaboration with the elusive Canadian musician Mary Margaret O’Hara to propel performance artist Sara Porter back to the stage after dealing with physical challenges, raising three young boys, and surviving a solid “six years of not dancing at all.”
This song is by Mary Margaret O’Hara. Renowned Canadian singer and songwriter. I’ve always been a big fan of hers. She couldn’t be here tonight, but she was actually here not that long ago. And sat right here, singing while I danced.
Louise Moyes has a rare ability to connect with perfect strangers and she does so frequently on her journeys to St. John’s from Montreal, taking in the scenery and the people along Newfoundland’s isolated south coast via the Lower North Shore of Quebec and into Labrador, and turns those conversations along the way into pieces of art for the stage.
A few years ago I hosted some events at Fan Expo in Toronto. In between shows I sat in the greenroom, usually with my face buried in a newspaper or a book. One afternoon as I sat reading I felt someone come sit at the table with me. They didn’t say anything and I didn’t look up. It was so crazy busy on the floor; everyone was enjoying the relative tranquility of the greenroom and staying to themselves.
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