During this time of war and pestilence, I’ve been hiding away from the major population centres deep in the ancient sticks. Haven’t come down with The Rona yet, and a large part of that is due to my being in a sparsely populated area that is completely devoid of culture and attractions save those related to fishing, shunned by the majority of non-fishing tourists pandemic or not. While those qualities make it an ideal spot to wait out a global pandemic, I sure do miss those days when I used to be exposed to actual culture. This year’s Pride has been a boon from the gods thus far, for it has brought culture to those of us who have none. A power trio playing Stones covers doesn’t have quite the same level of über-festive badassitude as some of the shit I’ve seen in Toronto, but I certainly appreciate the sight and sound of a company of live street performers that isn’t a twangy country band. Haven’t seen anything like that in a while.
Six Strings and a Funky Pickup 