Cat Malojian
Regarding downtown festivals, other than Pride, I have had little or no luck with the weather, or in terms of having the time to see everything I would like to. It’s either freezing cold, pouring rain, or unbearably hot and humid. Last year I had a funeral to attend on the Saturday and this year I was sick. Figures. Alas, I fought my way though my desire to stay at home in bed so I could review the amazing talent that travels to our fair city for none other than my own personal entertainment. I caught a few minutes of Iggy and the Stooges, but the heat and crowds in my sickly condition, and the trampling of my uncovered toes made it impossible to stick around. A table in the air conditioned Silver Dollar brought me back to life a few times and gave me the energy to wander a few doors down to sweat out bands at the El Mocambo. With luck I will have a few days free of illness and extreme weather next time around, but the good news is nothing seems to stop me from getting out there with my photographer and notepad.
The term “cat malojian” is one I heard a little over a year ago for the first time from my Irish boyfriend. I have yet to understand his explanation of what it actually means. I think it had something to do with a perfectly intelligent and reasonable person doing or saying something really stupid. I tried to google the term, but the only thing I found was that people either love or hate the Irish band of the same name- it’s never in between, but the scales are tipped far more in the direction of love. I had never been to The Painted Lady, and I wondered if the people in charge of the sound for the bands are usually as bad as they were that night. It seemed like there were three people dealing with it, but it was almost impossible to get one of them anywhere near the stage when he was needed. It took forever for the band to set up because it seemed like the only things on the stage that weren’t broken or plugged into the wrong place were the musicians and their instruments. The band members spent much of the first three songs begging for more or less volume on instruments/bass/vocals and actually had to give up on some songs halfway through because they didn’t have the required sound. The bass and drum machine were virtually non-existent during one number that obviously needed it, so the band just shrugged their shoulders and moved on. It was admirable of the band to be prepared for technical difficulties, or in this case, disaster. If there was a city wide blackout,would be one of the few acts for whom the show really could go on.
Cat Malojian consist of singer-songwriter Stevie Scullion and multi-instrumentalist siblings Jonny and Rachel Toman. The multi-instrument talent could have been better showcased had the sound been under control, but the limitations didn’t stop the group from blowing my mind, especially Rachel Toman. She plays clarinet, keyboards, percussion, and sings beautifully. The banjo player (although sadly not nearly loud enough) was fantastic, strumming and picking touching melodies, mixing traditional Celtic music with modern North American riffs without losing the family Ceilidh feel of a comfortable, down-home kitchen party. Fellow victims of the original Nintendo generation, they strike up a guitar/banjo version of the theme from Super Mario Brothers, pulling at the heartstrings and injured thumbs of the enthusiastic audience. The music is fun and upbeat, but pretty at the same time. Among her percussion instruments, Rachel sits atop a “whitebox”, which is typically played with bare hands, and her use of brushes is an innovative move that adds interesting substance to the music. West Indian influence seems to sneak into the next song from the movie “O’ Brother, Where Art Thou?”. Combining so many types of music is risky, but Cat Malojian pulls it off with style and grace. Eventually a sound guy made his way up to the stage so the audience could finally hear the banjo and realize the skill, precision and talent behind it. The band had a great sense of humour about all the sound issues, which I thought was awfully nice of them, considering how far they had travelled. They really were trying to share with Torontonians their original and entertaining music- I actually apologized on behalf of our city for making it so difficult. The final song came all too quickly, and sounded like a folksy Pogues-like number. The vocal harmonies were unbelievable- Rachel is quite possibly in the same league as Kirsty MacColl. She was such a natural and her vocals seemed almost effortless. A lifetime of effort wouldn’t be enough for most people to sing like her. The song sped up, and with the banjo (at the right volume) and Rachel’s vocals, it was the perfect song to end with- good enough that the audience would remember the music and not just the technical disasters.
