In a disused quarry off the western shore of Pelee Island when the day begins to wane stands a man reading poetry about children’s musings and investigations probing the parameters of innocence and common sense. André Narbonne walked away from his microphone to let his voice be amplified naturally across an intimate and receptive audience, delivering snapshot poems of ogres, and youth.
This must have inspired Count Yorghi, who after a brief introduction began to lull us all away from space and time with what this listener interpreted as a mixture of Miles Davis and Frank Zappa, pelting the audience with hard bop off quarried rock. It was truly delightful. I watched even the birds stop and listen.
Hanging from the quarry walls was Collette Broeder’s scenic panel representing fire, the perfect anthem of this auditory propellantry. It’s alchemical symbolism tying that moment to the quarry like a good rug does a room.
Saturday concerts in the quarry are not magical. They are the magic which turns early evening into the kind of gold you can feel with your eyes, and see with your ears.
The Island Spectator
July 18, 2017