The Candy Man by Sammy Davis Junior
The first song on the radio I listened to as a child while living above the restaurant my cigar-smoking uncle owned in North
Bay. The lyrics intrigued me. Why was this funny sounding man singing about candy? At night after the restaurant was closed,
my dad and I would go downstairs and sit at the counter. He poured me a glass of milk and gave me a donut while he smoked
in silence.
Theme from the Friendly Giant
The bad lighting, the Giant's strangled voice and weirdly oversized hand rearranging the chairs at the end of the show always
creeped me out, but like a car crash I was compelled to watch. In retrospect, I believe the show was part of a government
ploy to hypnotize reluctant children into viewing Canadian programming.
Endless Love by Diana Ross
At 13, I played this 45 full blast, over and over again on our mangy record-player until my mother yelled at me to turn it
off. It was all about the Dorothy Hamill haircut, stealing dog books and my best friend Becky. What a sleepy small town. Better head out West.
Upstairs at Eric by Yaz
Countless vials of hash oil, nursing a crush on the only two "punk" boys in high school, sneaking DuMaurier Extra Mild King
Sized with Mavis who had an unfortunate lid of impossibly curly red hair shaped into a mullet (thanks Rosa) and learning how
to drive in a cemetery. We wore out this tape while hotboxing. "If you keep the windows closed, the smell will disappear"
.
Space Oddity and Young Americans by David Bowie
Driving around in Tracy's 66 turquoise Mustang convertible. The realization that I didn't quite gel with the Rush-loving, beer-drinking inhabitants of high school and the start of
something new, fresh and unexplored.
Native Love by Divine
The beginning of gaydom. I was 15 and dancing on top of the banquettes at a now forgettable bar in Calgary with a skinny drag
queen. When Babs confessed he was gay over lunch, I sipped my French onion soup, nodded and said, "I knew".
Uncertain Smile by The The
Doing the Luv-A-Fair two-step with wan, black-clad goth-like creatures and The Gandy Dancer hop with oh so handsome and oh so gay Jay. Fascinated by a soft-spoken boy with a lock of blonde hair falling over his
eyes whose best friend I dated and who eventually turned out to be gay. Falling asleep in art history lectures at UBC.
Can You Party by Royal House
The first house song I listened to in Graceland which kicked off several hardcore years. Packets of bitter D.A., Lucky Lagers, a sexy tattooed doorman and endless nights. The blurred faces of a steady stream
of people with unforgettable nicknames (Chewy, Mamma Toots, Weegun, Choan, Sparky, the Salami Stickers, D.A. John, Vanna,
Mosquito, Salted Pork, Salvador Dali, Egret) drifting in and out of my life that was the nature of the West End scene.
Some have stayed, many have not. Walking home over the Burrard Street Bridge on a Sunday morning in my bustier, smeared red
lipstick traces on my face, still high with no money or keys, and facing the surreal sight of a hundred joggers racing towards
me in a marathon.
Delibe's Lakme Act 1 Duettino: "Viens, Marlika"
Vancouver in the early 90s. It's morning and we haven't slept. The blinds are drawn and we are grinding our teeth. A handful have lingered about sprawled on the hardwood floors: Clams,
Piss, Girlina. Carol's jabbering can be heard faintly in the background. Delibe's light, ethereal opera calms our jitters
and we turn it up to drown out the sounds of the seagulls. Utter bliss - okay, artificially-induced bliss.
Ceremony by New Order
Sunday night dance party in Vancouver. Dusk, the inevitable rain, roasted chicken in the oven and the heady smell of stolen
flowers filling the furniture-less apartment.
Erik Satie's Gymnopedies No. 1
The spare, haunting composition induces visions of the Tangier
medina, a smiling dwarf, and a djellabah-cloaked man selling tangerines. This is where I want to be.
The Pied Piper (Mourant) featuring George McDonald on the clarinet
A bit of classical music played to introduce and end Danielle Charbonneau's program, Music For A While on CBC Radio. Melancholy
and a bit sad, it reminds me of Patch and the particular shade of blue of the Vancouver sky on a late summer afternoon.
- Dr. Quack
