Ten Kens defines its sound as “thinking man’s heavy rock.” Its songs are energetic, quirky, and slightly aggressive rock tunes that tend to fracture in the middle and fray around the edges. The band has always been interested in exploring the erosion of genre boundaries, and its third full-length release, Namesake, continues in that vein.

While the record first appeared in digital-only format last fall, Namesake is now getting a full, physical release that includes four new, previously unreleased tracks. It comes out on May 21.

For its first two releases, Ten Kens worked with Last Gang and Fat Cat records. For Namesake, the band has struck out entirely on its own. Core duo Brett Paulin and Dan Workman, who have always been responsible for all the songwriting, also handled all of the recording and production this time around. This pulling inward and holding close has paid off, as Namesake is not only more dense and complex than Ten Kens’ previous releases, but also more musically varied. Layers of composition and production can create a hazy, almost dream-like effect on some tracks, whereas others are more spare and bright, broken apart by gleaming drums.

Some of the tracks on Namesake have a stoner rock, even vaguely psychedelic vibe, like “Whatever Man” and the crisp-but-chill “Take Me To Your Leader.” “Above the Ego” is a much more upbeat and classically positive rock track, with just enough flaunt and flourish to keep it the tiniest bit weird. “Calm of the Car” and “When A Door Opens” are more plaintive and atmospheric, even haunting, with carefully picked chords dovetailing with the emotive vocals.

It’s when Ten Kens is at its most aggressive, however, that Namesake really shines. “Death In The Family” has a crunchy, glorious heaviness to it that keeps the pulse up, and “Bliss” is easily an album highlight. (You can listen to “Bliss” by clicking the sample, above.) Featuring some of the heaviest riffs on the record, as well as remarkably effective duelling vocals and organic, pulsing drums, it showcases the band at its finest and fullest. While some acts falter when they eschew label support in favour of complete creative control, Ten Kens has thrived and produced its finest work yet.

In My Opinion, the new album from producer-turned-MC Rich Kidd, is in many ways a quantum leap forward for the Toronto-based artist. Kidd has been experimenting with rhyming more and more over the last few years, mostly on his Rich Kidd Shiiiiit series of mixtapes. He also released a Juno-nominated collaboration with Vancouver-based MC SonReal under the group name The Closers. On In My Opinion, he takes things to a whole other level, attempting to carry an entire record. By and large, he does a pretty strong job of it.

As a technical rapper, Kidd isn’t going to blow anyone’s mind. That’s not to say he’s bad, but he’s not going to amaze you with intricate internal rhyme structures. That said, he has a strong talent for rap as storytelling, a great baritone rap voice, and a ton of clever one-liners.

In My Opinion is also proof positive that Rich is a much more diverse MC than people realize. Sure, there are songs about girls and making money, but there’s also a lot of deep, thought-provoking material. “The City” has the makings of an anti-gun-violence anthem, and ends with Kidd personally calling on Mayor Rob Ford to spend more money on arts programs. “I’d Be Lying” is filled with weirdly self-deprecating wisecracks, and “What the Fame” is raw, vulnerable, and emotional.

While he’s impressive as an MC, Kidd is still a producer first and foremost, and the beats on In My Opinion are second to none. “The Valley” sounds like it’s about to be big, over-the-top club rap, then swerves sharply to the left and becomes something much more layered and interesting, with hypnotic percussion and a haunting vocal sample. “What the Fame” takes an all-too-familiar Top-40 sample and manipulates it until it’s surprisingly hard to identify. (You can listen to “What the Fame” by clicking on the sample above.)

Transitioning from producer to MC isn’t easy. For every Kanye West–level superstar, there are a dozen Swizz Beats–type near misses (and even more outright failures). Rich Kidd has managed to make the transition seem remarkably easy. He’s already a charismatic, entertaining performer, and if In My Opinion is any indication, he’ll only get better from here.

Jazz Bistro was filled to the rafters on its first two weekends, in early April. So why are we left wondering if the age of the upscale jazz club is over in Toronto?

For the last decade, the Toronto jazzerati have been lamenting the death of one upscale club after another. The glory days of the Montreal Bistro and Top o’ the Senator have been left behind in the dust of condominiums and a changing tourism landscape. There have been valiant attempts at reviving the scene over the years. Remember Opal, The Red Violin, and Live at the Courthouse? No one can blame you if you don’t. Each one failed more spectacularly than the last. While there are many possible reasons for those failures, you have to wonder if the one common denominator is simply that Toronto no longer has an appetite for jazz in a “white tablecloth and martini” kind of setting.

Colin Hunter would hope that’s not the case. He’s the CEO of Sunwing Vacations, a leisure tour company, and he’s also the guy who spent a lot of money transforming the old Top o’ the Senator, on Victoria Street, into Jazz Bistro. The entire space has been re-imagined, with a small stage on the main floor and a balcony looking down on it from the second floor. There are several monitors to accommodate those with obstructed views. On the surface, it would seem as though some really wonderful things are about to happen at the venue. Hunter was even smart enough to hire the old manager of Top o’ the Senator, Sybil Walker, to book the talent.

So what went wrong?

On the club’s second weekend, the sound was abysmal. You could barely hear charming vocalist George Evans and his trio over the audience. Would you really want to pay a cover charge to listen to a suburban real estate agent talk about his latest conquest?

The small stage on the main floor is difficult to see from many corners of the club. At Top o’ the Senator, the stage was front and centre. Here, it feels as though it could be removed and replaced with a couple of four tops, where customers could loudly order more wine. Putting a custom red Steinway piano in your club is great, but if the audience can’t see it, what’s the point?

Something about an evening at Jazz Bistro felt like dinner with an ex, where even though you aren’t a couple anymore, you hope that whatever it was that brought you together in the first place is still there. And you know, at Jazz Bistro, it just wasn’t. You can look rationally at the renovation of the space and know that it was necessary, but it just felt so hollow. The Top o’ the Senator felt upscale, but it also felt authentic. Jazz Bistro, with its plethora of chandeliers, Louboutin red-and-black colour palette, and chatty clientele, feels like a Bougie Botox Queen who has nothing to offer the conversation.

Hopefully, Sybil Walker can work her magic. Hopefully, great music from local talent and international jazz stars will make Jazz Bistro a venue worth supporting.

That said, even if Jazz Bistro fails, don’t ring the death knell for jazz in this city just yet. The Rex Hotel has been presenting 19 shows a week for years and has slowly evolved from a no-menu, potato-chips-behind-the-bar kind of joint into a still-casual but “grown-up” venue. It has a great menu and a full bar and a staff that doesn’t sneer at you. There’s no “quiet policy,” but if the musicians are holding the crowd’s attention, you can hear a pin drop. Great jazz is also happening at unlikely venues all over Toronto. Art galleries and brunch spots that book amazing local talent are omnipresent. International talent can be seen at all kinds of venues during the Jazz Festival and year-round at the Royal Conservatory of Music’s beautiful Koerner Hall.

Toronto is still a great jazz city, but those of us who care about that need to consider whether an upscale backdrop matters as much as we think it does.

Photo by Tracey Nolan.

CORRECTION: May 7, 10:30AM The credit for the above photo was previously given to Jazz Bistro, when, in fact, the photo was provided by the author. The correction has been made above.

Despite being part of the official curriculum for schools in Ontario, music education is becoming increasingly marginalized because of budget cuts. Music Monday, an annual initiative of the Coalition of Music Education, highlights the importance of music education for young Canadians through a simultaneous concert that reaches across the country. This year, it even reaches into space, thanks to Canadian astronaut Commander Chris Hadfield.

Music Monday, now in its ninth year, focuses on the importance of music. “We celebrate the galvanizing power of music and how that’s rooted in our schools,” said Holly Nimmons, executive director of the Coalition for Music Education.

Each year for the past nine, the coalition—in partnership with CBC Music and, this year, the Canadian Space Agency—commissions an original song by a well-known Canadian artist, and that piece becomes the official song for Music Monday. The song is available online, in various translations, and Canadians can learn it in advance of the day and create their own arrangements. On Music Monday, young Canadians perform a simultaneous concert of the song across the country.

A Collection of Chris Hadfield’s Pictures of Toronto From Space

This year’s partnership features Ed Robertson of the Barenaked Ladies. Commander Hadfield, will be participating from his post on the International Space Station.

Starting at 12 p.m. EDT on Monday, May 6, a live feed from the International Space Station will be broadcast at the Ontario Science Centrelive webcast, go to the Ontario Science Centre to participate with others who will be performing the song along with Hadfield, or learn the official song and perform along themselves at home or school.

Along with being an astronaut, Hadfield is a musician who has said that music helps him be better at his job. Nimmons hopes his partnership with Music Monday will highlight music education’s wide-ranging benefits. “Learning music is not a frill,” she said, “it’s an essential component of a well-rounded education.” There’s research that supports this notion.

Hadfield’s participation in Music Monday this year highlights the natural pairing of music and science, Nimmons said. “It’s such a remarkable way to teach other subjects.”

CORRECTION: 11:59 AM A quote that appeared in this article was originally mistranscribed. Holly Nimmons told us that “learning music is not a frill.” Our apologies for the error.

Born Paul Hayden Desser, the internationally recognized singer-songwriter Hayden has been composing lyrics about sadness, heartbreak, and loss for a full two decades. His soul-baring, gritty tunes and emotion-choked baritone have helped define Canadian indie rock since his first song, “Take,” hit the airwaves in 1993. With his latest release, Us Alone, Hayden continues to refine his unique blend of of alternative rock, folk, grunge, and country.

Us Alone shows off a few shifts in Hayden’s sound, and it hints at a new direction for his career. After a long relationship with Universal, Hayden put out this latest record on the Toronto-based independent label Arts & Crafts. His first release in four years, Us Alone is in many ways a far lonelier album than those that came before. It’s bare and sparse, with fuzzy, layered production. Hayden recorded it in his home studio and also played all of the instruments, which increases the record’s sense of isolation. Us Alone hovers somewhere between plaintive minimalism and nebulous drowsiness, which is to say that it’s not always successful, but it’s always atmospheric and emotionally authentic.

It’s often the unexpected elements that make tracks on Us Alone stand out. Lou Canon’s ethereal, expressive voice gives “Blurry Nights” a more dynamic and energetic feel, while the organ in “Oh Memory” adds swelling emotion and a strange note of dignity. It’s the most straightforward Hayden song that ends up being the core of the album; “Almost Everything” is part original story, part clear-eyed musing on aging and changing priorities. It’s a song by an artist who still loves writing and playing more than almost everything in the world. There is a warmth and maturity now beneath the aching melancholy. It suits Hayden extremely well, and makes Us Alone a welcome step forward.

If there’s one thing that’s both exciting and incredibly annoying about EDM, it’s the fact that a new sub-sub-sub-genre seems to pop up every week—possibly every day. We just learned that “molly grit” is the actual name of one of those, rather than a phrase to describe drug-induced teeth grinding.

According to the blog Global Bass Experience, molly grit “is the culmination of all the recent trends of the last 5-10 years. Dubstep, trap, moombahton, juke…” Take that for what it’s worth.

One of the acts leading the molly-grit charge is Toronto’s Carnnibal. The band’s new album, Which Crime Mi a Talk, is a collaboration between Carnnibal and old-school British jungle act The Ragga Twins, which was never a big deal in North America. Even in Europe, the Twins’ popularity peaked when most of today’s club kids were still zygotes. It’s an interesting choice of co-conspirator, and it ultimately makes for an interesting project.

The title track on Which Crime Mi a Talk seems to be an ideal introduction to the nascent genre. A manic jumble of Latin percussion samples, snares, and chirping synths, it may be the most cheerful song about gun violence since “Pumped Up Kicks.” It has the potential to be a major dancefloor mover. “Ras Trent” is a little closer to Top-40 EDM, with a little bit of a dubstep wobble and a beat that’s a little less syncopated than the rest of the EP. It’s also based on a sample from a Saturday Night Live sketch, which may qualify it as our new favourite song ever. (You can listen to “Ras Trent” by clicking the sample, above.) “ShitSTEM” feels like it could be from a Major Lazer album. It’s not straight-ahead dancehall, but it’s distinctly more dancehall than anything else here.

It’s hard to tell if molly grit is going to be a real thing or not. Right now, the genre seems to be about six months old and seven artists deep. What we do know is that Which Crime Mi a Talk is a strong, ass-shaking album, and proof that Carnnibal is a force to be reckoned with, no matter what obscure subgenre you file it under.

For a second there, it looked like the folks at the Canadian Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences had learned from last year’s Shatner-hosted Juno disaster. And in some ways, maybe they did. They just didn’t learn enough.

If last year’s Juno telecast was terrible, this year’s, which aired on Sunday, was just sort of a letdown. Michael Bublé started off kind of charming—his opening sketch was about hosting anxiety and featured him singing Celine Dion with Kelly Ripa—but unfortunately things got progressively worse from there.

Bublé’s hosting material hit its nadir with a satellite interaction with One Direction, during which he pretended to be a fanboy. He followed that up with an awkward joke about wanting to have sex with Carly Rae Jepsen. Then, he staggered through an awkward sketch with The Sheepdogs before deciding to ditch humour altogether. (Why One Direction made a cameo is anyone’s guess.)

The performances were also okay at best. Carly Rae Jepsen segued a weird, off-kilter version of “Call Me Maybe” into the far less charming “Tonight I’m Getting Over You.” (Jepsen was also the night’s big winner, taking Record of the Year, Single of the Year, and Pop Album of the Year.) The Tenors inexplicably performed a mildly cringe-worthy version of “Forever Young.” The show’s producers opted to really hammer home the Sheepdogs’ retro-styling by shooting their set in sepia, while Marianas Trench proved that it has entered its “serious” phase by bringing out a gospel choir for accompaniment. (As an aside, Marianas Trench is Generation Y’s answer to A Flock of Seagulls. Entertaining haircuts are the only thing its members have going for them.)

The absolute highlight of the evening was k.d. lang being inducted into the Canadian Music Hall of Fame by Anne Murray. Lang told Murray she had a longstanding crush on her, and said that Canada was the only place where people like herself, Rita MacNeil, and Stompin’ Tom Connors could become famous. She encouraged the crowd to “let their freak flags fly.”

Torontonian artists didn’t do terribly at this year’s Junos, but they were shut out of most of the high-profile categories. Metric took Alternative Album of the Year for Synthetica, while Rush won Rock Album of the Year for Clockwork Angels. The Weeknd won in the R&B/Soul category for its gold-certified album Trilogy, shocking no one. Elliot Brood won for Group Roots and Traditional Album of the Year. In the little-talked-about Contemporary Christian category, Toronto’s The City Harmonic took the prize for I Have a Dream. Exco Levi won in the reggae category for the second straight year. Toronto’s suburbs also didn’t fare too badly, with Brampton’s Johnny Reid winning Country Album of the Year, and Oakville’s Anjulie winning for Dance Recording of the Year.

SPOTTED BY: Jason Cook

WHERE: Spadina Station

WHEN: A little after 7:30 this morning

WHAT: Project Ukulele Gangsterism bills itself as being “inspired by the Emersonian idea that while some pursue happiness, others create it.” While we’re not entirely sure subjecting a captive audience to a full-blown ukulele symphony before 8 a.m. constitutes “creating happiness,” it definitely looks like the players, at least, had a great time.

Spotted features interesting things our readers discover in their journeys across Toronto. If you spot something interesting, send a photo and pertinent details to tips@torontoist.com.

The old adage says not to judge a book by its cover, and usually that goes for albums, as well. Having said that, we were immediately intrigued by the cover for Modern Day Riot, the latest album from Durham-based rap duo The Antiheroes. It’s a hip-hop album with a cover that looks like it belongs on a punk seven-inch. How can you not love that?

While Modern Day Riot is disappointingly light on Crass samples, it’s still a more-than-solid release. Antiheroes MCs Flex and Sha Prince have ways of combining complex, multi-syllabic rhyme schemes, diverse concepts, and remarkably catchy hooks. The Antiheroes have a clear love of Golden Era hip hop—the album is filled with early ’90s rap samples—but aren’t beholden to it. They’re more than willing to integrate everything from R&B to dark, gothic sounds into the mix.

On “Where It Lives,” they transform a reference to The King’s Speech into an amazing earworm of a hook. “Misery Ave.,” meanwhile, is a dark, haunting song that uses clever metaphors to address some fairly heavy subject matter. Both men also have an almost amazing ability to work with words: they pack too many syllables into each verse, then Tetris them together until it works. This is especially noticeable on the rapid-fire “Ignorant x Arrogant,” and also “Misery Ave.”

The highlight of Riot is almost certainly “Blow Up.” Sha, Flex and guest MC D-Sisive rip a hole in the Canadian rap scene, bemoaning the lack of support for hip hop in this country and calling out rappers who brag about making big money while working day jobs. It’s one of the sharper critiques of the scene to come out in some time, and it manages to come off as sardonic and tongue-in-cheek, rather than bitter. (You can listen to “Blow Up” by clicking on the sample above.)

Over the last two years, The Antiheroes have developed a strong, rapidly growing fan base thanks to their tight verses and willingness to be weird. Modern Day Riot will only help develop that fan base further.

Presley on-stage during the 6 p.m. show at Maple Leaf Gardens, from the York University Libraries, Clara Thomas Archives & Special Collections, Toronto Telegram fonds, F0433, ASC00845.

“It goes without saying,” Toronto Star music critic Hugh Thomson wrote in a scathing review of Elvis Presley’s two-concert apperance at Maple Leaf Gardens on April 2, 1957, “he has all the appeal of one-part dynamite and one-part chain-lightning to the adolescent girls, but to one like myself who is neither a girl nor adolescent, I could only feel he was strikingly devoid of talent.”

While a frenzied audience (reportedly composed predominantly of women, ranging in age from four to 64) screamed and cheered in approval as Elvis glided across the stage, seductively cradling the microphone and stopping to rock his hips in rhythm to the music, Thomson seethed: “One rock ‘n’ roll ballad sounded just like the other, and the basic theme and appeal were sex, which Elvis lays on with the subtlety of a bulldozer in mating season, you might say. He is Mr. Overstatement himself. He has to knock himself and his audience out at every beat.”

Toronto Star (April 2, 1957).

Elvis’ appearance in Toronto was credited, in the Toronto Telegram, to the efforts of Leaside’s Carol Vanderleck, who mailed off a petition with 2,443 signatures asking him to perform here. The Star suggested responsibility rested with another fan, Shirley Harris, who with the aid of a local radio show collected 2,000 signatures of her own. And it was widely reported in the Canadian press that, on a per-percentage basis, Elvis received more fan mail from Canada than from anywhere else. But it was Vanderleck who Colonel Tom Parker, Elvis’s manager, called personally to announce an upcoming concert at Maple Leaf Gardens.

With one hit song after another through 1956, Elvis skyrocketed in popularity and, Jerry Hopkins suggests in Elvis: A Biography (Warner Books, 1971), Parker was loathe to continue to give his star property away for free on television. So Parker organized a money-making tour in the spring of 1957, starting in Chicago and including stops in Fort Wayne, St. Louis, Philadelphia, and Buffalo. His appearances in Toronto and Ottawa on this tour—and a subsequent engagement in Vancouver later that summer—would be Elvis’ only live performance outside of the United States in his career.

Elvis had only released his first single, “That’s All Right,” four years earlier; his popularity exploded rapidly, with numerous television appearances and Hollywood films in 1956 and early 1957. Still 10 months away from being drafted into the army, Elvis was at the peak of his early career. Everywhere he made a personal appearance, bedlam ensued.

“It generated coverage, controversy, and cash, and from nearly every point of view could not fail to be accounted a success,” Scotty Moore, a member of Elvis’s backing band, recalled of the March–April 1957 tour. “But if anything was needed to confirm the Colonel’s growing conviction that this was a phenomenon that had orbited out of control…this tour served to do it… [I]t was becoming increasingly impossible even to do the show.”

Presley with fans backstage, April 2, 1957, from the York University Libraries, Clara Thomas Archives & Special Collections, Toronto Telegram fonds, F0433, ASC00836.

The first in line for tickets when they went on sale on March 20 was a 13-year-old boy, who showed up at 5:45 a.m.; the Maple Leaf Gardens box office didn’t open until 10 a.m. With prices ranging from $1.25 to $3.50 a seat, tickets sold out within 48 hours. Elvis and his handlers quickly agreed to a second show: the tickets that had already sold would be honoured for a 9 p.m. show, and a 6 p.m. performance would be added.

The first major rock ‘n’ roll event in Toronto had come almost a year before, when Bill Haley and his Comets performed at Maple Leaf Gardens. But where Haley—a jovial and portly singer approaching middle age—might’ve been accepted as relatively innocuous, for moralizing politicians, preachers, and parents, Presley represented a dangerous new youth culture.

Canadian critics, like American critics before them, commented on his suggestive stage movements; his noisy (to older ears) fusion of country and rhythm and blues; and, most importantly, on the response the hearthrob singer provoked among his young fans.

Journalist Barbara Moon gave Toronto religious leaders free reign to vent about Elvis in Maclean’s (July 7, 1956). Jan Scott, religious columnist for the Toronto Telegram, insisted that teenagers who listened to rock ‘n’ roll would inevitably regret it once they realized “the whole business of pleasure-seeking and self-indulgence was a mockery and a sham.” Reverend W.G. McPherson of the Evangel Temple proclaimed that rock played on emotions “like the music of the heathen in Africa.”

“Elvis Presley is a vulgar, tasteless amateur!” exclaimed Rudolf Bing, general manager of the Metropolitan Opera Company, who happened to be visiting Toronto in late March. He was pressed by Toronto reporters about whether there was at least something entertaining about Elvis’ on-stage antics. “No,” he sternly insisted. “I find this no laughing matter. It is a desperate state of affairs when you consider millions of youngsters being brought up on horror comics and Presley.”

Presley’s fans, April 2, 1957, from the York University Libraries, Clara Thomas Archives & Special Collections, Toronto Telegram fonds, F0433, ASC00840.

Presley didn’t do himself any favours in the face of critics claiming a link between the singer and juvenile delinquency when he got into an altercation on a Memphis street a few weeks before the show. While signing autographs, Elvis was confronted by an 18-year-old U.S. Marine alleging the singer had bumped the soldier’s wife months earlier. Guileless, Elvis pulled out a Hollywood prop pistol, and with a broad grin on his face exclaimed: “I’ll blow your brains out, you punk.”

‘It was all a misunderstanding,” Presley explained after the matter was resolved amicably through a Memphis judge’s mediation. “We’re both sorry it happened. I thought he and his buddies were trying to beat me up.” However minor, the widely reported incident served to underline the danger Elvis and his rock ‘n’ roll ilk posed to North America’s youth.

While the Telegram, for its part, initiated the Elvis Suppresley Club, there were among the Toronto media those who defended the singer and his teenage fans. “There is far too much gratuitous insult handed out these days to young people regarding what they like or don’t like, and the guilt-by-association technique had been over-used already on the many decent youngsters who genuinely like Presley even to the point of imitating his haircut,” Globe and Mail columnist Scott Young wrote thoughtfully, placing Elvis within a longer history of youth culture and mothers who’d swooned over Rudy Vallée (and fathers sporting coon coats) in their younger years. “And in 20 years, some vital young man with long hair or no hair at all will come along playing a bassoon or a Tibetan lute and will fill Maple Leaf Gardens with the sons and daughters of the people who will be there to hear Elvis Tuesday night,” he concluded. “And the veterans of this Elvis recital, away off there in 1977, will sit at home and stare into their coffee cups and wonder what the world is coming to.”

When they finally met him in person—as Star staffer John Beehl did when Elvis kicked off the tour in Chicago in late March—journalists were surprised to discover a boyish but respectful, soft-spoken young man, who didn’t drink, smoke, or swear, rather than the caricature described at so many pulpits.

“If I thought I was contributing to juvenile delinquency or causing anybody to go astray,” Elvis said when a Canadian reporter gave him an opportunity to answer his critics, “I’d go back to driving a truck.” Of his provocative performances, he added: “When I start to sing I’m carried away, I spread my feet apart, pick the guitar, and the rhythm carries me from there. I can’t help movin’ around. It’s the way I sing.”

Toronto Star (March 27, 1957).

In the weeks leading up to Elvis’s arrival, the Toronto press carried dozens of stories on Elvis and his local fans. The Star visited the kids of Presley Avenue in Scarborough. “Kids keep asking me all the time if I really live on Presley Ave.,” one 14-year-old resident and Elvis fan commented. “When I tell them I do, they practically swoon. ‘Oh I wish I lived on Presley Ave.’ they say.’” The Globe and Mail featured a photo of two East York teens, Helen Hagen and Judi Reilly, who’d composed a song in Elvis’s honour. Radio stations held contests for the chance for young listeners to meet Elvis in person.

The Star dispatched Don Carlson to Memphis to pen a three-part biographical profile of the singer, recounting his rise from Memphis truck driver to rock ‘n’ roll sensation in less than four years. Carlson was astonished by the money-making yield of what he dubbed “Elvis Incorporated.” Selling records at a rate of a million per month, he said, earned Elvis about $1 million in royalties annually from his record deal with RCA Victor, television appearances added $100,000 per year, and personal appearances another $25,000 per week. Hollywood commitments added between $100,000 to $250,000 per movie on a three-films-per-year contract. Carlson further cited conservative estimates that consumers spent $25 million each year on products bearing the singer’s likeness—such as scarves, busts, shirts, pyjamas, and lunchboxes—and Elvis-endorsed products like cosmetics and soda pop.

Presley backstage at Maple Leaf Gardens with Gene Smith (L) and George Klein (R), April 2, 1957, from the York University Libraries, Clara Thomas Archives & Special Collections, Toronto Telegram fonds, F0433, ASC00833.

Prior to the 6 p.m. show, perched on a table in a concrete room in the bowels of Maple Leaf Gardens, Presley chatted with the journalists who were there to cover his performance. Wearing an open-collar silver metallic silk shirt and a red suede jacket, he impressed most of them with his natural charm, humour, and ease at responding to questions about his critics, his love life, his taste in women, and his multi-faceted career—which most reporters in attendance assumed would be over in short order.

Had he ever thought of becoming a doctor or psychiatrist, one journalist asked. “I haven’t thought about becoming a psychiatrist, but I’ve often thought of going to one,” came his quick-witted response. Asked about formal musical technique, Elvis playfully conceded: “I don’t know anything about music—in my line I don’t need to.” He admitted to experiencing regular stage fright, despite the crowd’s howling enthusiasm. “It’s the waiting part that gets me,” he told one reporter. “It’s not so bad once I’ve done the first couple of numbers. But I’m never completely at ease.”

Other reporters, while undeniably impressed by Presley, thought his charm dangerous. “After seeing Elvis in action the question is not what’s going to happen to the teen-age squealers who undoubtedly will recover their equilibria, but what will become of this Bible-reading, non-smoking, non-drinking boy who is so good to his mother,” the Star‘s Angela Burke pondered after the press conference. “For the trouble with Elvis, from this observer’s view,” she added, “is young Mr. Presley’s complete lack of naiveté. Even the way he handles himself in a press conference, parrying questions sometimes with humor, and sometimes with remarkable innuendo, is a shocker when one considers his age.”

Fans at Maple Leaf Gardens, April 2, 1957, from the York University Libraries, Clara Thomas Archives & Special Collections, Toronto Telegram fonds, F0433, ASC00843.

Out in the arena, the crowd grew restive sitting through a half dozen opening acts. An hour-long revue featuring tap dancer Frankie Trent, singer Pat Kelly, standup comic Rex Marlowe, and banjo player Jimmy James culminated in a chorus of boos for Irish tenor Frankie Connors. Only a solo set by the Jordanaires, Elvis’s backup singers, was well-received by the impatient audience.

After a 20-minute intermission, when the house lights dimmed and a local disc jockey announced Elvis’s imminent arrival on-stage, the crowd shrieked at top volume for 30 seconds straight. “From there on the Gardens,” the Globe and Mail recorded the scene, “from floor level to the highest tier, became a din of shrieks, whistles, feet-stomping and handclapping, lit by the chain lightning of amateur photographers’ flash bulbs.”

But, having broken a guitar string or hit himself in the eye with a microphone (accounts vary), Presley was further delayed en route to the stage. “Elvis doesn’t think you’re making enough noise,” came another announcement over the PA system, and the thunderous cheers from the crowd grew louder still. When he finally emerged on stage—dressed in the famous Nudie Cohn-designed gold lamé suit he’d introduced at the start of the tour—the ear-splitting noise prevented any one from hearing Elvis actually sing. “It was Presley a la pantomime all the way,” the Globe and Mail reported, “but nobody seemed to mind.”

“Up and down the stage he goes, dragging the mike like a captive, undulating, shouting feverishly,” wrote organist Charles Peaker, who attended the concert at the invitation of the Star. “He freezes, the orchestra stops—he glares at the audience like one in a hypnotic trance, then he leaps, gives tongue, and starts to dislocate his golden legs again.” Providing the most colourful descriptions of Elvis’ performance carried in the Toronto press, Peaker continued: “Then his face sets, his lips curl back and seizing the mike by the scruff of the neck he prowls up and down the platform, snarling, and driving his worshippers crazy.”

Presley on-stage in Toronto, April 2, 1957, from the York University Libraries, Clara Thomas Archives & Special Collections, Toronto Telegram fonds, F0433, ASC00832.

Whenever Presley smiled seductively to one section of the audience or stretched out his arm towards another, the affected spectators erupted with ecstatic screams. His guitar was more prop than musical instrument. “At times he even balances on both toes with his knees forward, hips wiggling and chest thrown out,” reporter Joe Scanlon recalled. “The position appears physically impossible to hold, but Elvis manages to stay that way for 15 or 20 seconds.” None of the stage movements were choreographed or ever the same from concert to concert, which caused problems for his backup singers. “So we’d be watching,” one of the Jordanaires, Gordon Stoker, recalled of this tour in Hopkins’ biography of Elvis, “and we’d be watching so hard we’d blow the part, we’d forget to come in with the ‘ooooowahhhh’ and he’d turn around and give us the lip—you know the way he moves the left side of his mouth in a cocky sneer—of he’d say something like ‘oh yeah?’ or ‘sumbitch.’”

Among those 23,000 who attended Elvis’s Toronto concerts were several local celebrities including TV comedians Wayne and Shuster—who characterized Elvis as “sort of an E.P. Taylor with sideburns”—and Toronto Symphony Orchestra conductor Walter Susskind. “I feel that Mr. Elvis Presley is everything he is reported to be,” Susskind summarized. “Unfortunately, I could hardly hear him, so I cannot comment myself further.” A contingent from the Toronto Town Jazz Club attended “out of curiosity.” “What a horrible experience,” club president and jazz critic Dave Caplan complained. “I came to find out what all the noise about Presley is about; and that’s just what it all amounted to—a lot of noise.”

Evelyn Dumas, a twenty-something from Saskatchewan working for a Toronto family, was gifted a front row ticket by her employer. Slightly older than the majority of the teenage audience, she nevertheless gave in to girlish exuberance: “Although I was never one to do it—he walked on that stage, pointed his finger, began singing—and I screamed, just as loud as the rest of the girls in the audience that night! I was spellbound.”

Elvis performed most of his hits, all except “Blue Suede Shoes.” He treated the audience to “Heartbreak Hotel,” “Don’t Be Cruel,” “Love Me,” “Too Much,” “That’s When Your Heartaches Begin,” and “All Shook Up”—which would be the number one record on the very first CHUM chart on May 27, 1957—as well as some lesser known songs like the not-yet-released “One Night,” and “Butterfly,” which he never formally recorded.

Presley on stage during a show the previous night in Buffalo, from the York University Libraries, Clara Thomas Archives & Special Collections, Toronto Telegram fonds, F0433, ASC00835.

As raucous as the gathering appeared, members of Elvis’s entourage told Toronto journalists that “the whooping and hollering and shenanigans just didn’t compare to what they had seen in other cities.” Just the night before, in Buffalo, a woman had clutched the singer until a blow from a policeman’s club broke him free.

Toronto police, under the command of District Chief George Elliott, took no chance of a repeat, stationing as many as 125 uniformed police officers around the arena to spot trouble before it started. “Whenever a youngster bounced up in his seat a policeman would reach over and plunk him down again,” the Star‘s Scanlon observed. “This sometimes gave the Gardens the appearance of a large jack-in-the-box but it seemed to have the desired effect.” Two young female fans were ejected that night when they rushed the stage. In addition, the Globe and Mail noted “a scattering of fainting women.”

Surveying the scene from the back of the stage, Elliott, satisfied that the crowd was well-behaved, was seen tapping his foot to the music. “I’m a bit of a Presley fan myself,” he later told the press. “They were a good bunch,” Elliott said of the audience, which avoided the ugly scenes witnessed elsewhere at Presley performances—like that in Vancouver several months later, when the concert was cut short because the crowd rushed the stage.

The most difficult task of the night for police was clearing the arena after the early concert so that those with tickets for the 9 p.m. show could take their seats.

Presley with fans backstage in Buffalo, April 1, 1957, from the York University Libraries, Clara Thomas Archives & Special Collections, Toronto Telegram fonds, F0433, ASC00837.

In between performances Elvis rested backstage, lying down in his dressing room for a period and meeting some lucky fans, including Vanderleck and Harris, whose petitions had led to the concerts in the first place. Meanwhile, clean-up men filled and carried away boxes and boxes of used flashbulbs collected from the arena floor.

The early show proved to be the last time Elvis wore the full gold lamé suit. His performance style, regularly dropping to his knees, had quickly worn down the gold on the front of the pants. Other than that detail, the second show went much the same as the first. With 15,000 fans now jammed into Maple Leaf Gardens (the largest audience to that point in Elvis’ career) the crowd’s hollering once again drowned out the singer and his musicians. As he neared the end of another hour-long performance, Elvis was drenched in sweat, his hair disshelved. One reporter in attendance likened him to “a kid staggering after a tough basketball game.”

He closed the show with “Hound Dog,” repeating chorus after chorus a dozen or more times in a growing crescendo. And then, an instant after the last notes were played, he was gone. For his own safety, Elvis never did encores or lingered at the venue. Before the audience could react—still hopeful there’d be a curtain call—he bolted off-stage and into a waiting car. “I’ll bet that guitar hadn’t hit the stage from his hand by the time he was shooting through the door,” one Toronto police officer observed. “His fast disappearance made it a lot easier for us.”

Presley’s fans and Toronto Police, April 2, 1957, from the York University Libraries, Clara Thomas Archives & Special Collections, Toronto Telegram fonds, F0433, ASC07058.

As hundreds of onlookers began swarming the service entrance on the north side of Maple Leaf Gardens, Elvis was in a taxi, bound for Union Station. Squads of police officers had been dispatched to the King Edward Hotel expecting, like most of Elvis’s fans, that the singer would return there. By the time they all realized he wasn’t coming back, he was on a train to Ottawa, where he played another doubleheader the next day before returning to the United States.

Sources consulted: Ryan Edwardson, Canuck Rock: A History of Canadian Popular Music (University of Toronto Press, 2009); Jerry Hopkins, Elvis: A Biography (Warner Books, 1971); Linda Martin and Kerry Segrave, Anti-Rock: The Opposition to Rock ‘n’ Roll (Archon Books, 1988); and articles from the Globe and Mail (March 20, 21, 23, 28 & 30, and April 3 & 4, 1957); and the Toronto Star (October 29, 1956; March 22, 25, 27, 28, 29 & 30, and April 1, 2 & 3, 1957).

CORRECTION: April 7, 2013, 10:30 PM The photo from Presley’s Buffalo concert, above, was originally identified as a photo from the Maple Leaf Gardens show, but has now been corrected.
CORRECTION: April 9, 2013, 10:30 AM The photo of Presley backstage with fans, above, was identified as being taken on April 2 in Toronto, when the photo was actually taken on April 1 in Buffalo.

Every Saturday, Historicist looks back at the events, places, and characters that have shaped Toronto into the city we know today.

The Bicycles play to a packed house at Lula Lounge.

It was a special show indeed Thursday night at the Lula Lounge, a venue not normally frequented by indie-rock fans. With The Bicycles, Hooded Fang, and The Magic billed together, attendees got to see three of Toronto’s most tuneful pop bands—though each one utilizes those pop hooks markedly differently.

The Magic

Sparkle-attired singers Jessy Bell Smith and Geordie Gordon of The Magic.

Performance: The Gordon brothers fronted a seven-piece band for the show, including guest vocalist Jessy Bell Smith. It’s a bit tricky describing The Magic’s sound. The Guardian went with “Yacht Rock,” though judging by the performance we saw, we’d say that doesn’t quite capture the soul and funk this group is mining. In any event, Geordie and Bell Smith enthusiastically crooned to the crowd, which was appropriate to the venue’s decor. Early in the set, Geordie purred to the appreciative crowd, “This is a romantic room, no?”

Best Moment: The audience responded well to the first single from Ragged Gold, “Call Me Up.”

Miscellaneous: The Gordons aren’t resting on their laurels after Ragged Gold. “We’re working on a new album slowly,” confided Geordie, before he and Bell Smith performed an unnamed new tune.

Hooded Fang

Daniel Lee, April Aliermo, and D. Alex Meeks of Hooded Fang.

Performance: While Hooded Fang did some quick sound checking, the fuzz emanating from the speakers made it clear the night was changing to something a bit rougher around the edges. As the band has contracted in size and morphed over time, elements of Daniel Lee and April Aliermo’s other musical projects—most notably their surf-punk duo Tonka & Puma—have been incorporated into Hooded Fang’s sound. The songs still have a rock-solid pop underpinning, though.

Best Moment: Dan and April faced each other, heads together, for a good chunk of “Vacationation.”

Miscellaneous: April told a story about how she and Dan wrote the lyrics for a new tune for a forthcoming album Gravez: “We wrote this song together, but in different parts, and then put them together. I wrote about life, and love, and then I asked Dan, ‘What’d you write about?’ ‘Game of Thrones.’ It works well together, though!”

The Bicycles

The boys of The Bicycles: Matt Beckett, Randy Lee, Drew Smith, and Andrew Scott. (Not pictured is Dana Snell, crushing the drum kit.)

Performance: The time away from each other has really helped the Bicycles grow. The diverse influences on some songs—like slow, country-crooner “Appalachian Mountain Station”; “Bandana Cat,” which evokes the WKRP in Cincinatti theme; and the video-game-inspired “Goldeneye”—demonstrate that all five members brought lots to the table for their new album, Stop Thinking So Much, whose release was the occasion for the show. The fact that every one of them (save for strong-silent-type bassist Randy Lee) sings lead vocals on certain songs demonstrates the group’s depth of talent, too.

Best Moment: The Bicycles are rock stars for some dedicated fans, at least. Several bras were thrown on stage—and perhaps specifically at Andrew Scott, who was singing lead on new tune “Try Too Hard” at the time.

Miscellaneous: The Bicycles took the time to thank plenty of people during their set, including their guests and their long-time manager Maria Bui. They also gave shout-outs to fellow musicians in the crowd. They mentioned The Elwins’ 7-inch release show on Saturday April 6, and praised Maylee Todd’s new album, Escapology. Sure enough, during the next song, the newly tanned and blonde Todd was crowdsurfing.

A product of Toronto’s thriving garage/psych/surf rock scene, The BB Guns manage to show off their full range of influences on their upcoming EP Baby I Hate You.

On one hand, the album is full of bubblegummy ‘60s pop goodness and girl-group harmonies. The choruses are all catchy earworms, and the lyrics tend towards the lovelorn. On the other hand, all that ‘60s pop is balanced out by an equally good-sized dose of early punk rock, complete with shouted bridges, herky-jerky guitars, and vocals that have the odd audible sneer. If you can imagine Buzzcocks fronted by Ronnie Spector, you’re starting to get the idea.

“(She Thinks She’s) So Soho” and “Pennie Lane” are the best examples of the band’s split personality. The few lyrics in “So Soho” are delivered in a pissed off, high-pitch shout, while buzz saw guitars slash around in the background. The whole thing ends in a wailing wall of feedback. “Pennie Lane,” on the other hand, is all pretty harmonies, broken hearts, and tambourines. (You can listen to “So Soho” by clicking on the sample above.)

The title track sits somewhere in the middle. The harmonic verses transition into an aggressive bridge, with the band repeatedly yelling “move on” at a scorned lover. The whole thing gets progressively louder before coming to a sudden, satisfying end.

Over the last few years, The BB Guns have developed a reputation as the reigning queens of short, fast, and catchy. Baby I Hate You doesn’t disappoint.

CORRECTION: March 27, 2013, 4:00 PM This post originally listed this EP as being “new.” It has not yet been released, so we have changed it to “upcoming.”