Concert Reviews

People think I’m crazy because I enjoy the solitary drive to and from Toronto.

Why on earth would ANYONE want to spend 5-6 hours isolated in a tiny automobile? For one thing, Tim Horton’s coffee tastes better when you’re in a Kingston rest-area surrounded by the Kingston regulars (Is it just me, or are they still stuck in the '90s?) I could be crazy… but using my sleeve to open doors in their truck stops is NOT the reason why I enjoy the drive.

Nor is it the scenery, or the cushier Ontario roads.
It’s all about the music in my car.

Dobet Gnahoré kicked off the 24th Festival Nuits D’Afrique in fine form. Literally.

Propelling herself into mid-air, spinning on the floor like a breakdancer, and gyrating torso muscles you didn’t know existed, Gnahoré demonstrated the breadth of her talents, which are deeply rooted in the traditions of Africa.

Then there’s her voice. Deep and robust, it seems to emanate from within her soul, from an ancient place connected to shamans and tribesmen who came before.

Under the crimson lights of the glowing, ominous CN Tower, I found myself stumbling towards my hotel room just south of 2 am. It had been a long day, starting with an early-morning ride on the Megabus (complete with a Megarainstorm and Megabumps in the road) and through a myriad number of short journeys to get to this spot, here in chilly Toronto.