Under Control
With the psychic realm in hand, Mysterion bends the world of rock 'n' roll to his will
By Liisa Ladouceur
Photography by David Waldman
MYSTERION AND THE DEMONS
7-inch record release party. Fri, Oct 19. Smiling Buddha, 961 College. $12 with record, $8 without. 9:30pm.
In the light of day, even the dreary autumnal kind, Mysterion the Mindreader isn't so scary. At the Gladstone Hotel for lunch, the man in black with the Bride of Frankenstein-streaked pompadour is the most affable one in the room. He asks for food that's not on the menu by politely dropping the chef's name, thanking him later for the favour. He delights in learning that the front desk manager shares his birthday (Halloween, natch). And he affords the hotel's café the utmost respect: he doesn't bend any of its cutlery.
Of course, with this self-professed Doctor of Mentalism, his charms are always suspect. Is he a charlatan? Entertainer? Entrepreneur? Or is he an artist?
“All of the above,” he answers, cocking his head and smiling as wide as a Cheshire cat.
If you ask Mysterion what his “real” name is, he won't tell you. “Superman is Superman. Hulk Hogan is Hulk Hogan. And Mysterion is Mysterion,” he states. What he will tell you of himself is woven with more myth than a sideshow banner. Here's what we know to be true: born in North York on Oct. 31 some twenty-odd years ago, Mysterion first came downtown in his teens, taking up residence on Dovercourt at a time when the neighbourhood was still sketchville. “It was different then,” he recalls. “I used to be afraid to walk under the Dufferin bridge to go to the beer store on Brock because I might get mugged for my beer on the way back, which had happened. I had a mohawk and somebody threw a beer bottle at me.”
But after a stint in Kensington Market, where he joined a punk rock band called the Blatherskites and did some amateur wrestling as The Blue Angel, Mysterion made his way back to the West End. There, he developed his Mysterion the Mindreader character, who can guess random details with startling accuracy in what he refers to as “sleight of mind.” His mentalist act, mixed with macabre magic tricks, burlesque and live music, has been popular at such local spots as the Cadillac Lounge, Mitzi's Sister and the Gladstone ever since. He became a fixture on the streets, too, with his antique doctor's satchel in hand, ready to please with a small feat of magic or disconcerting mental probe. Some local shops even have his autographed 8” x 10” promo photos on their walls. He's like the Al Waxman of Parkdale, if Al Waxman looked more like a vampire.
“The character is who people come to see,” Mysterion explains. “They don't come to see a lady sawn in half. You can perform a trick, or you can make it into a show. It was more important to create this villainous character, and then I can plug that character into other areas.”
He'll do that his weekend when he debuts Mysterion and The Demons. A long-time fan of '50s garage rock and scary B-movies, he's throwing his name into the ring of psychobilly revivalists with this new band, a collaboration with local Mexican wrestling fanatics The Blue Demons. Their live debut celebrates the release of the 7-inch single “Mindreader,” available only on vinyl. Mysterion will be singing and possibly playing the theremin, his latest obsession. And what would monster music be without a real live monster? Enter the Wolfman. A long-time featured performer in Mysterion's live shows (and the one who actually writes most of the gags) the Wolfman is perhaps the only creature in town equally as maniacal about putting on a spookshow.
“The first time I saw Mysterion I thought it was like Hilarious House of Frightenstein for adults,” recalls the beast, who actually answers his work phone, “the Wolfman speaking.”
“It seemed like we shared all our greatest passions: it was spooky, it was camp, it was rock 'n' roll. And the first thing he ever said to me was, ‘Wanna wrestle me?'” The Wolfman agreed, though Mysterion wasn't waiting for confirmation. “He had already made the poster!”
The Wolfman had been writing kitschy horror-themed tunes for years, so when Mysterion won some studio time at a charity auction, they took the opportunity to record. The resulting tracks are pure Halloween fun – murder ballads about ghost hunters and pin-up girls and, of course, a Wolfman theme song. But like the seasonal bat displays now haunting our store shelves, Mysterion and The Demons will soon disappear.
“I think music is one of the most amazing arts,” Mysterion says, “and I wanted to contribute something because I work with a lot of bands in the city and I knew it would be fun. But I don't think I'm capable of doing it full-time, because it would conflict heavily with my schedule.”
That schedule is especially jammed these days, and not just because it's high season for horror. Blame it on the mainstream popularity of Criss Angel, David Blaine, The Illusionist and The Prestige, but magic is in the air. Whether raised, as Mysterion was, on The Amazing Kreskin and Doug Henning, or coming to it via an interest in occultism, psychic hotlines or love for all things creepy, it seems a growing number of people want more mystery in their daily lives. We're tired of being shocked – now we just want to be surprised.
“People are sick of reality TV, they want to go back into fantasy world,” says Mysterion. “I look at comic books and classic horror and theatre and monsters and pro wrestling and I bring that all together. I take assumptions, myths, truth and I cloud it all up so you don't know what you're looking at. You can go online and find out how things are done nowadays but I prefer having that curtain – that you're not allowed to know. What you're told is all you get, and you believe it.”
In a short time, Mysterion has established himself as the go-to-mentalist at all kinds of special events. (His corporate clients include CIBC, Trillium Health Centre and even Chapters Indigo.) But it's club shows such as his annual birthday bash at Mitzi's Sister where he can go even further, creating an alternate universe with his twisted Victorian-style salon, one peopled by the Wolfman, punk-rawk strippers, sideshow freaks (like his girlfriend, Kayla Pin Lynn, who eats glass and pounds nails into her head) and assorted hypnotists, escape artists and other oddballs. Most of them are close friends, many of whom also live in Parkdale where they stand out like an island of misfit toys in a sea of upscale bohemia.
“The reason why this is happening in Parkdale is that this is an inadvertently messed-up place,” he says. “It has so many different types of people from different extremes, that the only common denominator is a circus-like atmosphere. So on any given night, you get bizarre installations and carnivals. It's the only place in the city where that would work.”
Like a true ringleader, Mysterion never tires of self-promotion and he's always thinking big – he'd love to host his own children's television show – but it doesn't take a spotlight or a microphone or even a paycheque for him to turn on his magic. He's actually happiest when he works quietly.
“I get ultimate enjoyment out of knowing that I can put a fictitious character into a real world,” he explains, “a character who can interact with the mundane, day-to-day lives of people that I do and do not know, who are on the bus or going to get a hot dog or buy art supplies and I just happen to be there and all of a sudden I've opened up this dimension and Dr. Fate has walked through.
“And if you drop dead of a heart attack? What can I say, I'll have another ghost to conjure.”
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