It’s relatively quiet as I make my way into Lee’s Palace about a quarter after 8, though every seat in the club is already taken by those eager and wise enough to get in before me. A low murmur wafts through the empty space as friends catch up about their day and their upcoming holiday plans and I make my way over to glance at the merch table just off to the side of the bar.

Ben’s got a nice assortment today, a few different tees, LP’s, and even some natural beard oil, something he jokes about later is because “Artists like Justin Bieber can’t succeed without a side hustle, so this is mine.”

You can purchase anything from the merch store online by scanning a QR code and picking it up after or later in the show. This is probably one of my favourite new innovations in the merch game and I’m happy whenever I see more artists adopt it, especially with how many of us are paying with cards or using our phones to begin with, it can be a great time saver and absolves you of feeling like you have to purchase right out of the gate and carry around your swag all night.

Speaking of which, is there coat check tonight?

It’s been absolutely freezing in Toronto the last week or so – my trunk is literally still frozen shut after the last big storm we got which is annoying if only because my ice scraper is in there and I’ve needed it nearly every day.

I make my way back out into the hall and start the steep climb up to find a bathroom and coat check.

Up on the next level there’s a woman standing and looking a little confused at the open doors to her left and right. We appear to have found the bathrooms, but both have visible urinals.

“Is one of these the women’s?” she asks aloud, not necessarily to me, but I’m the only one around so I offer my insight.

“Honestly, I haven’t been here in a while, but I think it’s fine,” I say as I choose the entry to the left and she follows. It crosses my mind only briefly that there might be another bathroom without urinals, but frankly I have to pee and I don’t really care. “There’s stalls and we seem to be the only people here.”

One stall is out of order. The next wasn’t flushed properly and full of toilet paper. The first seems fine. “You go ahead and take this one,” I tell her. She hesitates – neither of us want to be rude and take the good stall. I insist and go into the second to try and flush it.

The glamour of Toronto’s most iconic venues is never lost on me. I relish it.

I’m satisfied at least that there is soap available at the sinks once I finish and I remind myself that I should really make more of a point to check that ahead of time.

Now, I didn’t really want to pay for coat check tonight – I even wore a less bulky coat so that I could comfortably still wear it inside, but the signs on the way up said coat check would only be $4 and that seemed fine enough. Last week at the Danforth Music Hall, coat check set me back $5.65, so this was an improvement.

I continue the climb up to the next level where Dance Cave lives. It’s empty tonight and I enjoyed taking a moment with it, the blue sign illuminating above the stage and a couple stairs scattered near the entry. Most nights, Dance Cave is known for being a bit of a slop show and you can kind of forget that it’s just a normal room with a funny reputation.

I find coat check up another set of stairs and though the light is on and ample hangers sit just over the window, nobody is around to work it.

With the growing trend of Toronto live music venues closing in droves over the past few years, it’s a bit of a troubling sign.

“Well, looks like I’m saving $4” I say to myself and begin the trek back down several flights of stairs, passing the door to what appears to be the women’s washroom at the end of another small dark hallway and head back into Lee’s Palace.

A few more people have shuffled in and the urge to hold rears its ugly little head. I don’t really get the compulsion to drink anymore even when I’m in a little bar like Lee’s where I used to knock back a-many tallboys through the night, but I do still have this odd little fixation about holding something in my hand that isn’t my phone.

A small glass of Diet Coke sets me back about $5 (I justify it as coat check money as though I’m saving a bit) and just like a bad beer pour I have to wait for the head to fizzle out before the bartender will let me take it. This turns out to be a bit of a blessing because as I’m waiting for it, I notice a great spot to stand with one of Lee’s legendary ledges right near the stage. Now I have railing to toss my coat over if I need to and a place to put my drink when I snap a couple photos of the show – hopefully the lighting is good.

I’ve seen so many great shows at Lee’s Palace over the years, it really is a special place. The amount of talent that has graced its stage since its 1985 opening is unreal when you really think about it; And with a capacity of only 450-600 (depending on who you ask and where you look), it’s the perfect size for rock, folk and indie shows.

Needless to say I was really excited to be seeing Ben Caplan here tonight. I can’t remember exactly how I first discovered him back in my early 20’s, but I imagine it had to do with the East Coast folk bender I went on at the time when I had finally come to terms with my first rock band parting ways and I thought I might be better suited as a folk artist myself.

I’ve seen him at the Horseshoe Tavern (if my memory is to be trusted) and the Dakota Tavern (now closed) and both of those nights he completely blew me away. It’d been a few years now since I’d had the opportunity, so it felt particularly special to be at this one.

His song, “Lost,” off of his latest release The Flood is one of my favourite tracks of 2025 and likely 2026 as well. The whole album, really, is phenomenal.

And that’s what we were here to witness. The Flood.

Around 9PM as the room filled up, opener Wyatt C. Louis made their way on stage.

A two-spirit Cree songwriter based in Calgary, Alberta, Wyatt comes across initially as shy and reserved, but as they progress into each song it’s clear they are just as eager to share the stories behind their songs and they are the songs themselves and there doesn’t appear to be much they’re unwilling to divulge.

Joined tonight on stage by Jasper Smith on lead guitar, Wyatt’s set rolls through a selection of tracks from their debut album Chandler as they weave through deliberate acknowledgement of their origins and inspirations which embrace the fluidity of being two-spirited, the systemic challenges brought on colonialism and being brave enough to take up space in a world that actively works to shut people like Wyatt out of it.

By rather stark contrast to the themes that have inspired Wyatt’s work, their songwriting and performance of them is easy-going and carefree; Calming. Intimate.

Soothing.

If I had to choose a favourite, it would go to “Oh Vibrant Sky,” a song Wyatt explains was co-written remotely with Wild Pink. While I love the recording of this one, it hits a little different when you’re watching Wyatt perform it just a couple feet in front of you. Perhaps it’s because they’re singing about being at an open air festival with “a fire on stage”” and instead, we are all hiding away from the Canadian cold inside grungy Lee’s Palace, but it adds to the dreamlike recounting that you feel from the track and in this moment I am both completely pacified by Wyatt and inspired. They seem like a sweet, kind soul.

The crowd, a little fuller now and with a handful of drinks under their belts gives encouraging and appreciative applause as Wyatt and Jasper exit the stage. A few more people shuffle up into the floor and I wonder how long it might be before Ben comes on; I’ve been nursing my pop and I’d kind of like another, but I also don’t want to lose my great spot – it’s really prime real estate. I decide to tough it out and try to reduce my sips.

I overhear a number of people commenting about the lack of coat check as they drape their coats over their arms and reearange their bags and drinks and I can’t help but think that this was quite the missed opportunity to reel in a few extra bucks for the venue. As much as I hate paying premium prices for a spot on a hanger the venue was reasonably warm now, but obviously not full enough to warrant paying someone to take coats.

It seems to be the norm at most shows I attend these days for there to be an excrutiating long turnover time between the openers and the headline act. 40 minutes seems to be the standard now and when you’ve long since quit drinking and find yourselves attending gigs solo, that time between acts can feel like forever and pull you out of the experience.

So you can imagine my surprise when not 10 minutes after Wyatt’s set concluded, there’s Ben’s band getting in position to kick off his.

And moments later, there’s Ben. In a button down red dress shirt with his marvelous beard. I always sort of remember Ben Caplan as in the era of In The Time Of The Great Remembering when I first met him, but tonight he looks different. A little older, sure, but it’s something else. His beard seems tamer although he’s still got that sort of wildness about him that you know is just lurking beneath the surface ready to rally the crowd, but it’s a certain charisma and confidence that he has tonight even before he speaks.

He begins the set with the spoken-word performance of “Lost and Found” and I realize what it is he’s exuding tonight that I wouldn’t have been able to pick up on when I was 21.

Maturity.

I’ve been listening to Ben Caplan sing and recite stories now for 15 years and while I’ve always been enamoured by his clever word play, when I listen to him now I have a deeper understanding of what he’s really talking about.

If you’re unfamiliar with Ben’s music, I’d explain to you that he’s a modern day philosopher who’s full of incredible wisdom that would rival the otherwise historical greats. You’d have to spend some quality time with his catalogue to understand why I say so, but here’s just a little bit from The Flood:

Not being innocent don’t make me guilty
You can’t keep your hands clean when it’s filthy
See the water dimmed with human blood
There’s no justice drowning in the flood

I’d also tell you he’d probably make a hell of a Rabbi if I’m allowed to make such an assertion, or he’d make a killing as a Jewish wedding band singer, if that’s less intrusive. Of course, I’m not sure he’d ever be either, because as we’d be lucky to witness over the next hour and a half, Ben Caplan is a true artist in all senses of the word.

The transition from “Lost and Found” into “Lost” where we get our first taste of keys player Owen Lee’s beautiful vocals is captivating and moving. Owen will prove to be a major highlight of the set the more he sings; Powerful and soulful – he has incredible range.

Multi-instrumentalist Andy Wiseman played triple duty throughout the evening, hopping from synthesizers to guitar and providing the thumping backbeat to Ben’s more energetic numbers that really sold me as a fan way back when.

Every time I’ve seen Ben Caplan live he’s put together not just different set lists, but altered the bands arrangements that accompanies him as well, so everything felt new and fresh, even “old classics” like Down to the River.

But tonight I was captivated by Ben’s playful mannerisms and striking charisma. He’s always been a force with a true talent for captivating an audience, but he was really on his game tonight. This was not just a performance of his music, it was theatre.

His comedic timing was impeccable when he was being goofy and interacting with the audience and he didn’t miss a beat when it came to bringing us all to a simmer before he exploded again into his more dramatic pieces; a natural showman, I’m once again impressed and as a fellow artist, inspired to work harder on my own presentations.

Lee’s Palace was not sold out for this show, and while on the one hand that is perplexing as this little room of Ben Caplan fans gives everything they can to the man pouring every bit of himself out on stage, I’m selfishly happy that we’re not in a bigger venue. When you’re in the room with a grand talent like Ben, smaller shows like this are so special to me.

If there is any justice, the next time Ben comes to town he’ll be in a much larger hall like the Danforth and I’ll still go and I’ll still enjoy myself, but it wont be as intimate; I won’t see the way his eyes strategically dart around the room or the pensive expressions on his face that tell us he’s speaking from his true experiences; the careful pauses before he speaks about the inspiration for songs that range from traditional heartbreak to refugees escaping warefare and seeking better lives. There is a certain magic in these rooms when you’re able to take in these thoughts and ideas with a collection of people who are clearly there because they have such love for the artists rather than attending for the sake of an experience.

In multiple instances, I clocked a couple of die-hards reaching out their hands to Ben as though he was reciting pure gospel and they must testify before him; Although I’d never be moved in this way given my own apprehension about treating any showman as a prophet, on a certain level I can be both a little unnerved as well as appreciate the compulsion.

Ben and the band whipped through the set for well over an hour playing a variety of songs from over the years and before leaving the stage, cheekily teasing that they’d be right back for some more.

And right back he was. They couldn’t have been off the stage for more than a minute before returning and Ben screeching into the mic, “Okay, okay, we’ll do it!” as though the fans had gone rabid in his ridiculously brief absence and he was left with no other choice but to calm them.

Like I said, the man is a comedic genius, but you’ll have to see him live to appreciate it.

They ran through a few more before Ben let us know he’d be hanging out at the merch table after the show if anyone wanted to say hello and I was thrilled about that.

Meanwhile, my phone was buzzing because I was due to head back to work after this show to strike an event I’d set up earlier in the day. Our on-site operator was letting me know they’d be done a little earlier than my scheduled call time if I wanted to head over earlier. I love when shows end earlier if it means I can finish my shift earlier, especially these late weekend gigs, so I was pretty stoked about that, but I wouldn’t be heading over until after I had a chance to chat to Ben.

The merch table already had a line by the time I fired back a text to the op so I got into it and mulled about what I should buy. I’ll be honest, we’re about to head into the end of the season dry-spell at my work so I wasn’t trying to spend a lot, but I had to get something, the show was too good and too reasonably priced to begin with – only $22.50.

While I was in that line, Ben appeared and positioned himself to the left of the table, so now a new line had formed; one for swag, one for hand shakes.

It’s funny seeing Ben off stage. He’s so dynamic and precise with everything he does during the show, but catching him as he politely made himself available to fans you get a completely different sense of his true character. This is no prophet, he’s just an ordinary man who loves putting on a great performance and I might even say he’s a little uncomfortable with the idea of post-show attention.

I exit the merch line with my new The Flood tee ($40) and I feel that smidge of uncertainty from Ben who’s been graciously taking photos and listening intently to his fans as each one approaches – perhaps I’m just projecting though, as I get that feeling myself whenever someone approaches me after a gig; It almost makes me want to just leave him be and get myself back to work without pestering him further, but I know this is all part of it and I just want to tell him how great of a job he’s done tonight.

I’m hesitant as I wait in the next line and slowly shuffle forward. Should I ask for a photo? I always feel like such a bother when I do, but I like to have the memory and I didn’t get a photo with him the last time I met him.

When I finally get up to the top of the line, I forget how to properly articulate what I mean to say and just spill out about how great he was. I do pester him for a photo and he kindly obliges, appreciative of just the very act of having someone wait in a line to speak to him, never mind the praise. I was truly enthralled by it, so I gush out a bit more about how funny and charismatic his stage presence is before I leave him to the rest of the line and wish him well for the remainder of the tour. Gentle as a mouse, you almost wouldn’t believe that he’s capable of the type of show he’s just finished a few minutes earlier.

I went back to work after this, striking speakers and wrapping cable from some sort of corporate party at a hall in Vaughan, something that should have only taken an hour but ended up taking 3 because the driver forgot to bring a strap to secure the equipment and had to drive back to and from the shop for one, so I spent a solid hour just sitting in an empty room thinking about this show while I waited to be able to load the truck.

Ben Caplan’s the kind of performer I can only wish to be half as good as one day and that’s really all I have to say about this show. Sorry that it took me over 3000 words to get here.

Oh, and Lee’s Palace is a treasure. Please don’t close down like the others.