Pierre Juneau (October 17, 1922 – February 21, 2012)

MAPLI must have known at some point in time that the JUNOs, whose annual mini-frenzy is currently upon us, were named for Pierre Juneau, but how easily we forget. How strangely fitting too, that news of his passing should have come right in the week we were tallying up, as we do every year, how many of this year’s JUNO nominees in the classical and jazz categories we had already reviewed in The WholeNote’s Discoveries pages before the nominees were announced.

(See David Olds’ “CD Editor’s Corner” for the details. Suffice it to say, here, that it’s a record, year in and out, of which we are rather proud.)

But now, suddenly, there are achievements of far greater magnitude to talk about. It’s just a bit difficult to figure out how much to say. For those of you who remember what Juneau achieved as the first chairman of the CRTC in the late 60s and early 70s, by helping ink the regulations requiring all Canadian radio stations to air 30% Canadian content, even this is too much explanation.

For those who either do not know, or remember, it’s hard to know where to begin.

MAPL is probably as good a place as any to start. It’s a little logo you will find on the corner of every single CD nominated for a JUNO in this or any other year, and something that every radio disc jockey knows how to spot instantly, and read, when shuffling into piles the CDs that qualify as Canadian content, and the ones that don’t.

The M is for Music; the A for Artist; the P for Performance; and the L for Lyrics. Under Juneau’s CRTC watch, to qualify as Canadian content a recording had to be “Canadian” in at least two of the four categories.

It was clunky, it was abused, it left holes big enough to drive multinational trucks through. It drew as much abuse as any affirmative action programme does. And it worked. It created a climate where quantity was needed, and gradually, out of that, as it always does, quality emerged.

The interesting thing is that it worked, and works, not just for the rock and pop artists, the singer-songwriters. It works, too, for the Canadian performer of Mozart, recorded by a Canadian engineer.

MAPL leaf forever, is what I say. But the irony is that it’s often the performing elite, the ones who rose from the quantitative slime to shine to the point where they don’t need the protection, who are the weakest defenders of the regulations that gave them the chance to excel.

In that regard it’s rather like the musicians who have turned their backs on the battle to keep music alive in core school curricula, because they “never learned anything in school music programmes anyway.”

Hmm. I wonder what Pierre Juneau would have made of that?

David Perlman, publisher@thewholenote.com

6Faithful fans of my little column both know that from time to time I go into a rant here about how this is the one remaining piece of copy preventing the issue from going to press, and how much I hate being the one responsible for the magazine not going to bed. (Or as a slight variation, a rant about how much I hate the fact that it’s the magazine that’s preventing me from going to bed.)

So now that’s over with, instead, a late night end-of-year toast to the best damned staff a publisher could ever wish for, and an acknowledgment of the fact that it’s only because each and everyone of you, at one time or another is “the last to bed,” that this little beauty ever gets to press.

A toast, I say, to the hard-working people:

… who work all night to rebuild the server when it crashes mid-cycle;

… who stay through blizzards to make sure the 65 listings that come in after deadline still get into the magazine even though we could just shrug and leave them out;

… who come up with a fantastic extra five hundred words at three am because a certain boneheaded editor in chief puts the same article in on two different pages;

… who stay long past midnight rejigging the routes for our thirty drivers because aforesaid boneheaded e.i.c./publisher gets the production schedule so terribly wrong even though he’s done it 174 times;

… who work half the night on the ad tracking sheet because they’ve spent all day hand-holding someone who’s never made an ad before through the process of making one;

… who right now sits patiently waiting for this last piece of copy, to make one last beautiful page;

… so our loyal printer can get in his car at two am and pick up page proofs;

… so we can still make our deadline in spite of the fact that the publisher was so busy toasting his staff that he forgot what he was trying to say, and sat staring at the computer screen for half an hour after writing this sentence, thereby nearly undoing all the hard work of the aforementioned best damned staff a publisher could ever wish for.

So, what else?

Oh yes, in case you haven’t noticed, dear readers, this is OUR DOUBLE ISSUE.

DO NOT phone me on January 2 to yell at me because The WholeNote has not arrived at your library. I will yell at you for demonstrating that you do not read my editorials.

To all, may music move you in many ways as you make your way through the joys and pains of the season.

To those who make the music, thereby giving us a reason for doing what we do, long may you prosper (or alternatively, may you prosper before long).

And now, to bed.

David Perlman, publisher@thewholenote.com

October 13 I felt like I knew a whole lot more about my fellow-Ontarians’ attitudes to the arts than I did the previous day. I knew, for example, that:

• 83% of Ontarians listen to music on a local radio station at least once a week

• 45% listen to music through a website or other streaming radio

• 79% of Ontarians read articles in newspapers or magazine at least once a week

• 60% attend professional music concerts “at any frequency,”  another 55% attend professional stage plays or musicals and 51% visit art museums or art galleries

• Of the 43% of Ontarians who dance socially, 61% said it is “very important” to them

• 80% of respondents who visit art museums and galleries also reported it is “very important” to them. The home is the predominant setting for engaging in music (89%), dance (51%) and visual arts (71%) activities

• 45% and 48% of respondents do music and dance activities in restaurants, bars or night clubs, respectively

• Ontarians who engage in participatory music activities attend concerts by professional musicians at a rate that is two to three times higher than those who do not

• 95% of Ontarians said they would like to be doing more arts activities than they are doing now.

The thing that happened overnight between October 12 and October 13 to make me so much better informed was that the Ontario Arts Council (OAC) released the findings of a major commissioned report, the Ontario Arts Engagement Study, that looked at “the full spectrum of arts activities from traditional audience-based activities (such as attending performing arts events or visiting an art gallery) to personal practice activities (such as playing a musical instrument, painting, or taking dance lessons), including arts participation via electronic, print and digital media (such as radio, television or the Internet).” And it explored “the importance of these arts activities to Ontarians, the settings in which arts activities take place, the relationships between personal arts practice and attendance, and the patterns of engagement across regions and demographic groups such as age and gender.”

So as I said, October 13 found me better informed than I had been the day before, but not necessarily a whole lot wiser.

Thankfully along with the report there was a “List of Things To Think About” (for people like me, I guess, who find information a obstacle to thought).

“The report raises questions and implications for arts organizations seeking to enhance their relationships with audiences” it said, and went on with its questions. There were eight. So far I’ve got as far as three:

Given the pivotal role of electronic, print and digital media in the landscape of arts engagement, how might arts organizations reach more deeply into the population through these media?

How will online activities, such as downloading music, change the way we deliver our artistic product?

How can arts organizations move forward and meet audiences, especially the younger ones, where they are and where they want to be?

Aha. Now there’s a plan …

There was once upon a time a creek so dark and murky that it took its name from the colour of its waters.

One particular summer, it rained so much that the creek became a roaring river too wide to leap or swing across; and in its temporarily swollen waters, Crocodile took up residence, lurking opportunistically, with only eyes and nostrils showing.

All up and down the creek’s one bank Monkey foraged tree to tree till almost all the fruit on that side was gone. Finally, there was only one granadilla, somewhat wrinkled, still up for grabs. Monkey eyed it dubiously, then hungrily gazed at the fruit-laden trees on the far bank, then apprehensively down at the dark water.

“Hey Monkey, I can carry you safely to the other side on my back” said the almost invisible owner of a very impressive voice. “You won’t even get your feet wet. I promise.”

“Oh great!” said Monkey, and hopped on.

But once too far from shore for Monkey to hop off, Crocodile said “Monkey I am hungry. Prepare to die.” “But how can that be?” said Monkey, puzzled. “I mean, you promised.”

“I don’t have to keep promises,” said Crocodile. “After all, I am a crocodile.”

“Well how was I to know you were a crocodile,” said Monkey. “You see, I left my brain — the tastiest part of me, by the way — hanging from that tree back there. I am reconciled to my fate. But I beg you, carry me back to get my brain, first. That way you get the tastiest bit, and my spirit can depart my body in peace instead of wailing forever through these woodlands in search of my lost mind. I beg you, just let me put my brain back in my head, and I promise I will hop back on and you can have your way with me.”

Safely back in the tree, Monkey plucked her brain from the tree where it was dangling, and put it back into her head through her mouth, careful not to spill even the tiniest drop.

“Hey Monkey, what about your promise?” asked Crocodile after a while. “Oh, that” said Monkey. “What kind of idiot do you think I am? Anyone with even half a brain can see that you are a crocodile.”

Blue Pages

Swing merrily through the branches of this year’s 2011/12 Blue Pages, dear reader, and the fruits of your labour will be that you come away with a much richer sense of the variety and curatorial creativity that continue to make the Southern Ontario music scene one of the most vigorous and diverse anywhere. These 164 profiles, written by the presenters themselves, are not of the largest, or smallest, or tamest or wildest of the musical presenters out there, but rather, some of each. Our dedicated team at The WholeNote has been rounding up these profiles since mid-summer but, our best efforts notwithstanding, there are always, by deadline, potential Blue Pages members that this year remained uncorralled. So check back online regularly and watch the forest grow!

Hats off, finally, to you, the true blue audience for live music in our neck of the woods, day in and day out. After all, without you, what would be the point?

—David Perlman, publisher@thewholenote.com

6_editors_openerJust about everyone I know has, somewhere tucked away inside their brain, some version of the fable of the grasshopper and the ant. You know the one: the grasshopper spends the warm months singing away, while the ants (and even sometimes the uncles) work like the dickens, planting, reaping, harvesting. Come the winter the shivering grasshopper, dying of hunger, asks for food and instead gets the moral of the story rammed down its throat.

Growing up, I had a talent for standing stories on their head, like the one in the bible about the bratty kid with the slingshot picking on the big lumpy guy with the thyroid problem. But I don’t think it ever occurred to me to question that the angels were on the side of the ants, and the grasshopper got what he (or more often she, especially in the paintings) deserved.

So, it’s a fable that’s always been particularly tough on me, especially at this time of year. Here at The WholeNote, you see, we’ve just put out a combined July/August issue instead of the habitual one a month. We took a whole two weeks off — a veritable binge of idleness … tainted almost from day one with the certainty that, as for the grasshopper, there would be a deadly reckoning somewhere up ahead.

It’s always tough to enjoy the gentle slipping of summer into fall when one has a chronic case of G.A.S. (grasshopper apprehension syndrome). But it’s ten times worse at a historic moment like this when, as happens from time to time, it’s the ants that are in government at almost every political level. There they go in their ugly black limo carapaces, quivering in anticipation at the thought of all the tongue lashings they will get to deliver once the legislature or house or hall reconvenes in the fall; looking forward to taking down a peg or two the indigent and the artists — all those who don’t know what “real” work is.

It’s time I think to stand this story on its head too. In my new ending the ant waggles its antennae at the grasshopper and makes its speech about “Idleness bringing want,” and how “To work today is to eat tomorrow.” And the grasshopper says to the ant, in the vernacular, “F**k off and die, dude. Here I spend the whole goddamn summer playing my mandola so you have music to work to, and now you tell me to go get a job!?”

So all hail the pickers and players and singers, slip-sliding your way from summer to fall, rejuiced and rejuvenated and ready to roll! Rest assured, there’s an extra seat at the just society’s table for anyone who can sing for their supper as sweetly as you-all do. And may all your seats be full of bums.

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