Listening to Shawn Fogel’s new EP, One Day in the Desert, bounce back and forth between rootsy alt-country tunes and peppy power pop anthems, it’s hard to believe that this NYC-based multi-instrumentalist was originally inspired to be a one-man-band by Stevie Wonder’s Innervisions LP. As Shawn explains, “It blew my mind how one person could create such an amazingly skilled and tight sound all by himself.”

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When I first heard it, Donovan Woods‘ music took me by total surprise, and that says a lot when you consider how quiet and understated his album The Hold Up is in comparison to my short attention span.

But there I was, up on a ladder painting the ceiling in the kitchen, listening to CBC Radio 3, when Donovan’s song “He Drinks Gas” comes on with its peculiar opening lines (”I bet him he wouldn’t drink any gas and he did just to spite me”) and I was hooked, even though it was nothing more than a guy with a guitar telling a strange little story punctuated with some gentle touches of piano and banjo. Immediately it was down with the brush and out with the laptop, and within minutes I learned that not only was he a TO resident, he also had a show coming up at the Savannah Room (294 College, $10) on Saturday, February 2nd.

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Saturday morning - 10 AM to be precise. Most musicians seem genuinely surprised to discover there’s a ten o’clock in the morning as well, but Canadian indie-rock icon Ron Hawkins has chosen this moment to invite me into his Kensington loft so I can pick up a copy of his soon-to-be-released album, Chemical Sounds.

When Ron invites me in, I have to step over a miniature plastic tea service. It belongs to his young daughter, Ruby B., to whom the new album is dedicated. Luckily enough, I meet her during my brief stay. Pint-sized and adorable, it’s obvious who takes centre stage in this ensemble. As only a child truly can be, she’s vibrance personafied, and I soon realize why this musician’s household is up so early; ain’t nobody sleeping late here anymore.
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When Shortwave released their debut EP breaker/breaker last summer they got a nice little surprise in their inbox - a fan letter from former Boys Brigade frontman turned Grammy-winning producer Malcolm Burn. It wasn’t long before Burn extended an offer to the band to come down and spend a week recording at his Colonial mansion in the Catskills. Shortwave’s answer: “Hell yes!”

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As far as online labels go, EN:PEGDIGITAL is pretty damn cool. Since they save themselves a ton of money by not having to press, print, and distribute a physical product, they’re able to deliver high quality MP3s of their artists’ music for the low, low cost of only $2.00USD/album. Suck on that, iTunes! The formula has allowed the label, an official splinter cell of n5MD, to serve up 37 high quality releases from 30 international artists in the last couple of years.

Saturday night, you can catch a showcase sponsored by EN:PEGDIGITAL at the White Orchid (812 Dundas Street West), featuring live PA sets by cisc, odori, and Famine.

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Many moons ago, a trio of jazz musicians banded together to play some straight up standards. Although their initial aspirations were relatively straightforward and by-the-book, something odd happened along the way. The piano player, Dafydd Hughes, traded in his piano for a electric keys and the occasional bit of laptop noodling , Chris Banks put down his upright and picked up an electric bass, and drummer Roger Travassos exchanged his brushes for a pair of sticks. They abandoned the standard repertoire in favour of original instrumental pop songs and added Paul Mathew on guitar. And that’s the way they all became the Deborahs.

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I was lucky enough to have studied jazz at York University while Oscar Peterson was the school’s chancellor. Even though our paths never crossed, his presence was almost palpable. I played in an ensemble under the tutelage of Don Thompson, a Canadian jazz giant in his our right, and every once in a while he’d make us put down our instruments and stop talking theory so we could listen to the masters. He’d play us records from his collection - Clifford Brown, John Coltrane, Bill Evans - but more often than not we’d find ourselves listening to Oscar Peterson.

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If Joanna Newsom gave birth to Tom Waits‘ illegitimate daughter and then refused to breastfeed her, the girl might grow up sounding a lot like Toronto’s Ronley Teper. When I first heard the buzz about Teper, people told me she was weird - good, but definitely weird. Imagine, if you will, Kate Bush in her youth in a more rootsy, acoustic setting. Pretty cool, actually.

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In 1986 five white guys from T.O. got together to create bizarre mix of jazz, hip-hop, and comedy that sang the praises of riding the rocket and discussed landlord/tenant issues with the local bug population. Being a gawky teenager prone to inappropriate laughing fits, I soon found myself ROTFLMAO as their videos went into heavy rotation on MuchMusic. Little did I know that the Shuffle Demons were a gateway into another dimension, the first step in a long journey that eventually lead me to Miles, Mingus, and Coltrane, in much the same way that Björk lead me to Autechre and Never Mind the Bollocks lead me to Rock for Light.

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Christine Bougie knows a little bit about leading a double life. While studying jazz at Toronto’s Humber College, she fell in love with playing country. She was supposed to be studying guitar in the manner of Herb Ellis and Wes Montgomery, but she was secretly woodshedding on lap steel, teaching herself the skills that have made her one of the most in-demand side players in town.

Most jazz-snobs will tell you that it’s almost impossible to find common ground between two such disparate musical influences, but to Bougie, it seems to come effortlessly. On her debut album, Hammy’s Secret Life, the multi-instrumentalist lays down eight self-penned tunes that simultaneously make reference to several musical traditions with a confidence that belies her 26 years.

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