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Sudan Archives: The BPM is Power!
As I neared Studio TD on Saturday night, slightly dejected by the temperature being minus twenty with the windchill (and reaping the consequence of my mediocre layering), I was met with a glowing sign which displayed “Sudan Archives se soir a 18:00h”. Underneath, a line wrapping around the block of people bundled up, like me, trying to shield themselves from the absurd temperature. However, there was a distinct anticipation and excitement radiating from the groups who waited in line to enter the venue. I was in the right place tonight. The 30% of my mood that told me it was too cold to be outside rapidly shifted as I realized I was in for a ridiculously fun, entertaining, and energetic show. My expectations were, of course, met (no surprise there), though her set far exceeded every single assumption I had made about what a dance music concert could be.
The lights dimmed, and the crowd quieted in a way that I have never witnessed at a show. Soft nature sounds–--a bird chirping, insects chattering, wind blowing—began to play, and a green panel of lights, which stretched across the back wall of the stage, breathed on and off slowly revealing and concealing a circular platform in the middle of the stage (which an audience member would later be invited to dance on during the song “A BUG’S LIFE”). In the light, the audience could see wires hanging off the equipment onstage, her keyboard, drummachine, and a computer that looked like a decorative piece, used to pay homage to the Y2K retrofuturist aesthetic; later revealed to be a functional part of her setup. Finally, she emerged onstage, slithering like a snake with a look of awe, wonder, and confusion on her face. She was fully in character, and she didn’t waver from it for the entire show. Through her theatrics, she invited the audience to visually experience, revel, and live in the world she’s created in her latest album, THE BPM. A world that perfectly marries nature and modern technology, expressed through her character, who embodies a sort of crossroads between warrior, alien, goddess, and humanoid android.
She wore white contacts and a green bodycon outfit, with a brown harness that held her bow and violin, which struck me as a nod to Zelda. She was playful with how she shared her ethos with the audience, namely, using a sound bite of a sword slice each time she pulled her bow from its carrier, solidifying the fierce “warrior” vibe she portrayed. She began the set with the track “DEAD,” which is not only the first track of the record but effectively, through the lyrics, bittersweet melody, and high BPM, drew us into her world. As the beat swelled, the crowd began to shout, holler, and most importantly, dance. Her stage presence was captivating. She knew exactly how to move and control the audience despite not speaking much between her songs—save for when she charmingly exclaimed, “I HOPE Y’ALL ARE TURNING UP TONIGHT CAUSE IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY YESTERDAY!”--- She was able to create an atmosphere where people felt free to dance, clap, and shout, which seems to be a difficult feat nowadays. I think it was this very lack of interruption that made the audience fully surrender to her performance.
Her violin clung to her body, almost becoming another appendage to aid in her storytelling, and she used it with an ease that made you forget that it is one of the most challenging instruments to master. It was amazing to see a performer rely on their intuition on stage; it showcased her deep understanding of and trust in her artistic vision and led to some very cool modified versions of songs I’ve come to know and love. Most notably for me, “COMPUTER LOVE”.
My heart fluttered when she played the song “NBPQ (Topless)” off her sophomore album Natural Brown Prom Queen, mostly because that album pretty much ruled my entire year in 2022. She didn’t play many songs from this album, only a few that aligned with the journey she was taking us on. The show was pure fun, with profound intent. The final words she spoke to the audience were, “The BMP is power,” which is the sort of motto for this tour. BPM not only refers to a beating heart, but in the context of this album, which is chock-full of fast dance tracks, is a reminder of what it means to be alive. A reminder that we can hone our power through enjoying ourselves; feeling, laughing, dancing, and embracing the community found through experiencing these human things. As I left the venue, I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face; my prior distaste for the cold weather didn’t bother me anymore.
Zoe is the host of Something For the Mood, on air Wednesdays 2-3 pm
Earl Sweatshirt's Curation Prowess on Full Display: a Review of the 3L World Tour
Anyone vaguely familiar with Earl Sweatshirt’s discography might not be sold on the idea of seeing him live. Although he’s one of modern rap’s greatest writers, his work has long dealt with heavy, sombre subject matter. In his earlier projects, the then-teenage prodigy laid bare his struggles with anxiety and the psychic toll of growing up in the public eye, while later works offered more layered explorations of depression, loss, and grief. It wouldn’t surprise me if your average concertgoer, seeking a fun night and temporary relief from life’s stresses, was skeptical about seeing an artist with an album titled I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside.
When the LA artist came to Beanfield Theatre in December for the Montreal stop of the 3L World Tour, however, Earl and his entourage delivered a night far more dynamic than this reputation might suggest. The tour follows the release of Live Laugh Love (LLL), his fifth full-length LP and first as a father and husband. This new chapter seems a positive one for Earl and guides much of the album’s overall tone: optimism, renewed faith, and a sense of inner fulfilment. The album’s energy was palpable on the night and seeped into Earl and co.’s performances.
Montreal’s Mike Shabb kicked off the show. I arrived slightly late but just in time to catch him closing out his set by bringing out his team and fellow Montreal rapper Trapmat Savior, another exciting local up-and-comer to watch. Together, they paraded Haitian flags and thanked the crowd for their support over instrumentals from Shabb’s latest project, an instrumental album titled Melted Faces, v1. It felt like a significant moment: one of Hip Hop’s most universally respected figures in Earl Sweatshirt endorsing not only Shabb, but also Montreal’s bubbling scene and rising status in contemporary rap.
The night continued with sets from the remaining openers, Cletus Strap, Niontay, Zelooperz, and Liv.e. Despite the sonically diverse lineup, from Liv.e’s neo-soul to Zelooperz’s zany experimental raps, the show never felt disjointed. The sets flowed smoothly, propped up by the artists’ clear friendship and mutual admiration of each other’s work. They drifted in and out of each other’s performances, sharing ad-libs and occasionally acting as voluntary hype men for each other. Throughout it all, Earl hovered discreetly, sometimes popping onstage to help at the DJ decks or to just mouth along to his friends’ lyrics in the background. It didn’t feel like a typical hierarchical opener-headliner sequence, but rather a small community festival hosted by friends.
When Earl finally came out to his instrumental track “Riot!”, the outro of his critically acclaimed 2018 album Some Rap Songs (SRS), he was welcomed by an already jovial crowd. He dove straight into his new material, kicking things off with the first three tracks from LLL, ‘gsw vs sac’, ‘Forge’, and ‘Infatuation’. In doing so, he grounded the mood of the rest of the night in the project’s passion and excitement, feeding into the night’s already energetic spirit.
As a performer, Earl remains part of a seemingly dying breed amongst his contemporaries: he raps all his lyrics live. No backing track to lean on, just a mic, his DJ (producer Black Noi$e), and his voice. While I’m not mad at backing track-reliant performances for artists whose music and shows involve a lot of spectacle, Earl’s music, usually vulnerable and introspective, lends itself far better to his ‘traditional’ MC approach. He captivates crowds through the sincerity with which he raps every lyric, a sincerity he conveys well with his voice and stage presence. Throughout the show, he would occasionally grab the mic with both hands, his eyes closed, almost as if forgetting about the 1000+ fans in front of him and briefly performing for himself. This intimacy is where his strength as a performer lies, and what kept the room reeled in.
In between songs, Earl would engage the crowd and show his light-hearted side. After performing his 2013 track ‘Molasses’, he jokingly scolded the crowd for reciting its chorus, where Hip Hop legend RZA raps “I’ll fuck the freckles off your face bitch.” “Damn Montreal,” he laughed, “that’s how y’all get down over here? That’s crazy!” It was a self-aware acknowledgement of the shock humour that characterized much of the output from his early Odd Future days, while also showing a clear sense of distance from it.
While the night centred on LLL, Earl also performed cuts from his catalogue like the Alchemist-produced “E.Coli” and SRS fan favourite, “The Mint”. Both drew some of the loudest responses of the night as the room rapped every lyric word for word. He initially closed with LLL’s outro “exhaust”, but when he walked off stage, Beanfield erupted into cries of “Olé, Olé, Olé” – which I learned was not just a soccer chant but also Montreal’s version of calling for an encore. Earl obliged, returning to perform another fan favourite in “Power”, sending the crowd into its final frenzy and rounding off a concert that was, from start to finish, a warm, upbeat affair.
Fool Me Once, Shame on You
SPEWING SWEAT TILL THERE’S NOTHING LEFT
Crushed beer cans floating through the mud-filled floor testified to the post-punk madness that defined Shame’s show at Montreal’s Club Soda. Strangers doing front-flips from the stage into the crowd matched the energy the South London band brought on stage for the tour, celebrating the release of their fourth studio album - Cutthroat. A real circus, Shame’s frontman, Charlie Steen, was the ringmaster of the Saint-Laurent venue on that snowy Wednesday evening.
The Montreal-based band, Ribbon Skirt, led spectators into a world of their own - one crafted by the post-punk chords and lyrics of the duo Tashiina Buswa and Billy Riley. The echoes of Ribbon Skirt’s sounds did not merely reverberate off the venue’s walls, but were felt deep within. Their album Bite Down, released in April 2025, saw immense success for the band, earning them a nomination for the 2025 Polaris Music Prize. Having been on tour throughout the United States and Canada, there is a certain degree of solace to be found in Ribbon Skirt’s performance in front of its hometown supporters. The community to be found amongst the crowd of adoring listeners, if but for a brief moment, was a gift the band bestowed on us all that evening.
For nearly ninety minutes, we belonged to Shame. Bodies floated above the crowd’s fingers, moving effortlessly to and fro in the crowded venue. Like particles in constant motion, our every movement was guided by the command from the sounds emanating from the stage. Charlie Steen was our post-punk preacher, and us his faithful servants. The perpetual colliding of the crowd became a dance of its own. Total lack of control meant a complete surrendering of oneself to the other concertgoers and to Shame. As the night went on, we slowly became one, morphing into a creature of its own. A cocktail of sweat and existential dread -- the blood of Shame -- seeped through our every fibre.
The debauchery on stage and within the crowd continued to gain momentum, culminating in Charlie Steen jumping without hesitation into the eye of the storm. We were given the body of Shame and savoured every second of that brief encounter between the band and the masses. Our souls were well fed. Perhaps some did not even realize they were starving until they had a taste of pure post-punk pandemonium.
Before releasing us back into the Montreal winter, Shame delivered a final song. From their debut album Songs of Praise, the ballad-like track "Angie" ended the night on a nostalgic note. Otherwise characterized by loud sounds and intense energy, the encore led a path towards introspective melancholy. The chaos from the night continued to ruminate in "Angie", as bodies kept moving above the crowd.
As the venue slowly emptied, echoes of "Angie" continued to wander through every inch of the room. Bracing for the cold journey back home, the sounds of Shame would assuredly guide our every footstep.
Sharp Pins Break Record for Smallest Pants Worn at La Sot!
As it snowed with ferocity on the streets of Montreal, the three-piece outfit (not dissimilar from what they wore), Sharp Pins, rocked La Sotterenea – basement venue of La Sala Rossa – in style. Hailing from Chicago, a city at the epicentre of the fast-evolving and emerging indie-rock sound and scene, they brought with them not only a zest, spunk and flair for theatrics, but also a particular analogue flavour hard to come by in our present hyper-digitized hellscape. With songs veering from sweet love ballads to angsty jangle-rock anthems, Sharp Pins packed a punch that could only be described as the frenetic ethos of youth. You could even say they have “a way” (a joke Kai Slater himself later used while introducing their song “You Have a Way”).
The band rolled in at 9:30, fresh from pushing their tour bus up a hill in the snow, having been preceded by Montreal’s very own Prism Shores and Austin’s Eli Winter. Beginning with a boom of their latest album opener, “Popafangout,” from drummer Peter Jebson (who was reminiscent of if Animal from the Muppets dressed in a collared shirt under an argyle sweater and khakis), that was so loud its reverberations emanated through the floor and hit me squarely in the lower back. Sharp Pins were off, exploding with the energy I can only assume was harnessed from the brute force their journey to the venue had required. Jesting that “we like it loud,” three Chicago twentysomethings, dressed in their finest 1960s church-boy Sunday best attire, burst into a setlist filled with songs off their three studio albums, Turtle Rock, Radio DDR and Balloon Balloon Balloon, along with an unreleased number to keep the fans excited for what's to come.
Sharp Pins confirmed a sneaking suspicion I had, namely that they are truly meant to be experienced and taken in live. Despite the Montreal crowd’s (unusually) timid reception (I blame the persistent onslaught of snow and sub-freezing temperatures, which can break the spirit), their songs eventually encouraged in the crowd an alchemistic desire to shimmy and jive. I’m not sure about everyone else there, but I was certainly heeding Slater’s encouragement to “shake some tail feathers.” Bookending each song with a sweeping guitar jump with greater frequency as the concert progressed, it appeared that as the crowd continued to warm to the band, the resulting energy turned Slater into something of a jumping bean. Considering his skin-tight striped flared pants, I was doubly impressed at his sheer ease and fluidity of movement.
After finishing their electric set, the band was summoned back on for a two-song encore, a slow song: “With a Girl Like Mine” and an upbeat, energetic final number: “I Can’t Stop.” And that they couldn’t! With a familiar yet unplaceable essence, Sharp Pins sound like they could be a peer to early Beatles, The Cleaners from Venus and Guided By Voices wrapped all into one – like discovering some B-side of a long forgotten band in the dollar crate at a record store. Suddenly, I seemed to understand Beatlemania and the ferocity with which your grandma probably approached the twist in her heyday. As I lined up to buy a CD, Kai Slater emerged, and I got a chance to compliment his pants as I bought the album. With a head filled with fuzz and muffled ears, still ringing from the show, I stumbled out into the quietly soft, snowy night on St. Lau, a sort-of cloud nine magnified by the marshmallow snow which surrounded me.
Sophie is the host of Are We There Yet?, a sonic journey through temporal realities, on air Wednesdays from 9-10 am
Hiding from the Season with Montreal’s Frown Line, Joey Bird and Kelly Elizabeth
On Thursday, January 15th, I braved the elements and made my way to La Sotterenea for a show headlined by one of my favourite Canadian bands, Burs. I initially saw them in the Fall of 2024 and was very excited to catch them again following the release of their new album, Significance, Otherness. I would soon find out, upon stepping onto the metro to Laurier, that they were stranded in the snow all the way back in Toronto, and would not be making it to Montreal for their set. However, any disappointment I might have experienced on my way to the show was short-lived, and the concert by Montreal’s Joey Bird, Kelly Elizabeth, and Frown Line now ranks among one of my favourites I’ve seen locally.
The opening slot was filled by Montreal-based singer-songwriter Austin Pigott, who goes by the stage name Joey Bird. “I’m shy, and I’m nervous,” the singer admitted to the crowd between songs. A last-minute addition to the night’s lineup following Burs’ cancellation, Bird performed a solo set on voice and electric guitar. This opener was an excellent way to set the tone for the rest of the night, with a slightly timid, but never underwhelming brand of singer-songwriter folk. The combination of electric guitar and voice can be challenging, with the guitar sometimes taking over and drowning out softer voices like Bird’s, but the performance did not suffer from this at all. Bird more than stood up to the slightly distorted guitar, and I thoroughly enjoyed the performance. It had all the good qualities of a basement show at a party, and the songs were quite lovely. Halfway through this first performance, my friend pointed out that our view of Bird was framed between the heads of two lovers in front of us.
The night’s second act was Kelly Elizabeth, who captivated the audience with her introspective and tender brand of folk. The set began quietly with minimal instrumentation, and I was struck immediately by the singer’s voice, a low, almost conversational whisper reminiscent of Mazzy Star’s Hope Sandoval.
Later, when the drums and a slightly distorted lead guitar kicked in, there remained throughout the performance a kind of gentle quality to Kelly Elizabeth’s voice and stage presence. Admittedly, her voice was sometimes drowned out by the full band accompanying her, but never without reason. The instrumentation boasted creative chord progressions and a real ability to build tension while mostly maintaining the softness that made the songs so compelling in the first place. On a few songs, the singer performed solo on her acoustic guitar. For the most part, however, every instrument was carefully and progressively incorporated, everything in its own time.
At this point in the night, I was beginning to worry that I was getting too cozy to fully appreciate the performances I was hearing. The lights were dim, the music had been, up until then, quite soothing, the weather outside was quiet and snowy, and the couch I was sitting on was very comfortable. I was terribly and unmistakably sleepy. I did not have to worry long, however - only until Montreal rock quartet Frown Line walked onto the stage. The energy in the room shifted quite a bit, going from lovely and reverberant to the boisterousness one has come to expect from a performance at La Sotterenea. It was impossible not to get my second wind from Frown Line. The songs were an exciting balancing act between upbeat, complex guitar solos (sometimes with fun, twangy pedals!) and lead singer/rhythm guitarist Annika Devlin’s crystal clear voice. The band’s stage presence was both understated and playful, with two of the performers bursting out laughing in the middle of a song while still staying perfectly on beat. I was also especially struck by Frown Line’s creative use of rests in their songs, which gave their music an almost math-rock quality at times. That being said, Frown Line is quintessential Montreal indie rock, and it felt good to end the night in familiar territory, with such a beautifully performed set.
First Indie Show of The Year Includes New Music and a Border Mishap: Roxanne Izzo, Hearts of Palm, and I Love You Dearly at Casa del Popolo,
When my partner and I walked into the dimly lit, crowded and buzzing showroom of Casa del Popolo, coming in from a deep cold on a busy Boulevard St Laurent, I knew tonight was going to be lovely.
Stepping into the venue, we were greeted with many friendly faces - on the bill tonight was Roxanne Izzo and I Love You Dearly supporting Local Weatherman (New York), but unfortunately, Local Weatherman got stopped at the border and couldn’t make it in (because apparently any indépendant gig in Montreal is an “illegal show”? Get so serious right now.)
Luckily, the very beloved Hearts of Palm were able to step in at the last minute to round out the bill.
Roxanne Izzo opened the night with some very raw and energetic rockus singer songwriter tunes. Roxanne and her band, which includes her brother, made it clear that they were not new to the game. Roxanne embodied confidence in her voice and dialogue, and I was impressed when she spoke about the whole 2016 obsession this year, telling us she had written one of her songs that year, having now been a musician for over 10 years.
Those who were there for Local Weatherman may have been disappointed until Hearts of Palm captured the crowd with their thoughtful, humorous and vulnerable indie rock. with diaristic and playful lyrics, quality musicianship and rock-solid danceable arrangements. I think they not only opened up to a whole new group of fans, but for regulars and friends of the band, they nourished us with unreleased music! Excitedly, they announced that most of the bands on their label, local indie label Yapdog (who represent many beloved Montreal University indie rock scene bands like Love You Dearly, Dantes Paradise and Art Grey) would be putting out albums this year!
Last but not least, my dear friends, I Love You Dearly graced the stage, with this being the second set of the evening for a couple of them (you know how it is in these scenes), and it was the best welcome back to Montreal a girl could ask for. With their jazz-influenced, shoegaze-lite indie rock, they can’t help but move the crowd to dance with their incredible musicianship and that specific Vancouver kind of west coast ease. They premiered a couple of new songs that were faster and heavier than anything I’ve heard from them before, and all I can say is that I am deeply excited for whatever they’re cooking up this year. I Love You Dearly is my favourite band to dance to in Montreal, and I continued to dance all the way home through the snow that didn’t feel so cold anymore.
This Is Not a Review of the New Sleep Token Record
Well, I guess it's true that history is a cycle. I originally wrote this entire thing a week after Sleep Token released their latest record, Even in Arcadia, and then thought, "Why should I publish this? What is the point?" But upon reflection and seeing the band get a Grammy nomination, both in a metal and rock category, I thought maybe I should revisit this in case a flood of new think pieces come out saying how this is a horrible thing.
But let's get some things out of the way first.
Sleep Token is an anonymous (even though they've been doxed) masked group of weirdos stationed in the UK, who have had a banner year off their fourth studio release. Don't mistake; I say weirdos with love here.
2025 has been big for them, as they put out a new record, Even in Arcadia, and as someone who has been listening to this band since before Sundowning was released, I think the record is pretty good. Admittedly, it's not as good as their last, Take Me Back to Eden, which, incidentally, has recently reached number one Billboard status with a vinyl reissue. It feels more like This Place Will Become Your Tomb, a middle album designed to connect two other records, and therefore not as strong as its sandwiching records. Still, it mixes djent, ballads, hip hop, trap, and RnB into a delicious slurry that sounds unique to the metal landscape. It also managed to snag the number one Billboard spot for both the UK and the US, and have some of the largest album sales for anything under the rock umbrella for the past two years.
TL;DR: It's a good record from a band doing something different in metal that people seem to like.
But this is not a review of the new Sleep Token record.
Now, before I continue, let me be clear. I actually don't really care if you hate Sleep Token. You can actively dislike any band you choose, and that's fine. I've been calling them "Elven John" since this record came out, and heard the prominent piano in "Damocles", and you can feel free to steal that and use it as you see fit, positively or negatively. I myself hate many bands and the music they make, sometimes with no real adequate reason, and that's okay.
So it was that, as I was listening to the record again on the way to work and contemplating how this band has galvanized the metal community, it occurred to me that I wasn't listening to a new, well produced record by a hot metal band that has managed to bring in new fans and managed to snare a headlining spot at Download Festival, one of the UKs largest rock/metal fests. No, in fact, I was listening to a flashpoint, a new chapter in a common and depressing metal argument. This was, in fact, the new "not metal band".
Let me explain.
The "not metal band" is a band that, for whatever reason, manages to gain popularity among people outside the metal community, and, through this process, becomes not metal. This can be an immediate dislike, such as with every band that has the audacity to be heavy, but still palatable by the mainstream (see: every radio "butt rock" band). It can also happen to bands over a gradual period of time as they gain popularity, such as with Ghost, the last not metal band to dare to make music that could be enjoyed by people outside of metal. It can even happen if other elitists try to jump onto a band, such as the case of Deafheaven releasing Sunbather and the indie rock Pitchfork crowd actually liking it.
In any other genre, these situations would be celebrated as wins; other people coming in and noticing a genre that they are less familiar with would supposedly be good for that genre. Afterall, it expands the audience and shows there is an appetite for something that people may have overlooked or dismissed.
But this is most definitely not the case in metal. People discovering and trying to get into metal should be a win. It should be what people strive for. And in fact, this attitude does not happen in other genres.
When Charlie XCX put out brat this year, an innovative album that mixed up multiple sub genres of pop and dance music, I didn't hear any chatter about how someone liking the album meant they "didn't really like pop music" or that they were clearly "some pop poser". Pop fans were not saying, "Well, that isn't REAL pop. True pop is what Cyndi Lauper was doing in the 80s."
Hell, I know metalheads who LOVED that record and would proudly say so, but, more importantly than that, it isn't the first time that metalheads decided to deride another genre of music for its exclusionary practices.
Remember last year, when Beyoncé released a country record? I saw members of the metal community say, "It's really not fair that country stations and the Country Music Association aren't recognizing Beyoncé since she's mainly from another genre." Of course, that was smugly followed by, "But, I guess we should expect it, amirite? You know, country people and how they exclude people that aren't already in the scene, especially if they look different from anyone else that has prominence."
But it's very hard to take these stances seriously when "trve cvltists" will not just take a shot at a band, but people who would dare admit they like a band. These fans of whatever particular pariah band the community have decided are "not worthy," will dismissively say, "Well, people who like not bands don't REALLY like metal, so they aren't part of the community and their opinion doesn't matter."
And this is not just reserved for single bands and their fans. As we all know, bands exist within genres, and there are entire genres of "not metal". Hair metal, screamo, metalcore, and, of course, who can forget nu-metal, which was pilloried until the recent new nu-metal revival and all the contrarians came back to say they actually liked nu-metal all along.
So we must ask ourselves, what do all those genres have in common? Well, they aren't musically the same, clearly. The time periods aren't the same, so that's not it. I'm going to oversimplify a bit here, but these genres and bands do have something in common, and that is simply that they became popular to people outside of the metal sphere.
"Well, no, it's because they're not heavy, you fool."
But is that it, Strawman in a battle vest?
Heilung, Emma Ruth Rundle, Alecast, Opeth's middle to late discography... none of these are the heaviest things that have ever come out, yet they are still under the metal umbrella, and there is very little argument in the community about that.
"Well, all those things are just unoriginal."
Oh, I see Strawman. Nice obscure band patch you have there, by the way. So then, let me pose this question to you: Is the same black metal record that is trying to be Emperor from the 90s original? The countless thrash bands that desperately want to be a Bay Area band from the 80s? That's what originality looks like? The death metal bands that can't even seem to get a different font for their band names are original? How many stoner bands are LITERALLY trying to be Black Sabbath, and they get a mammoth pass?
The truth is, metal fans don't really like innovation. Metal fans like slight variations on things they already like.
And, that's okay. That's actually pretty normal. But it is very difficult for you to convince me that you like originality when a band dares to do something unique, gains some popularity, and they get shunned by the community.
"Well, everyone knows that if a lot of people like something, it isn't good."
Strawman, c'mon... that's a real argument you're trying to make? Because let me tell you, the inverse is also not true. Just because a majority of people don't like something doesn't make it good either. And, further to that, if you're actively trying to keep people out unless it's on your specific terms, you are not a welcoming, open-minded community.
I'm not sure if everyone else has noticed this, but metal and its fans are getting old because that's how time works. It's also no secret that metal does not have the drawing power that it did in its heyday. Now, I could make a very salient argument that 44% of tickets sold to attend Download Festival this year were to first-time attendees, but I'm sure that has nothing to do with a popular band that younger fans enjoy headlining on one of the days.
And before you simplify in order to misrepresent my argument, is Sleep Token the only reason that is happening? Of course not. But having a band that for a while was all over TikTok headlines certainly didn't deter young people from going to a festival, and I'm not sure how you could argue otherwise.
Now, if you're a fan of metal, the above info should fill you with a bit of hope. Young people might take up the torch and actually keep the genre going with fresh and interesting ideas, and take something you care about and breathe fresh life into it... If they stick around, that is. Because you know what has never helped to make people stay in the scene? The elitism that metal has cultivated through its outsider mentality.
Speaking of, one argument someone threw at me was that Sleep Token was, and I quote, "diluting metal," as opposed to other bands that were "distilling metal," citing slam as an example of the latter in relation to death metal.
Now, I find this argument not even worth engaging with, but apropos of nothing, hey, did you also notice that metal has a higher amount of real Swastika wearing, piece of shit Nazis versus other music genres? There is literally a subgenre of black metal, National Socialist Black Metal, that is dedicated to espousing the most heinous and stupid ideas the worst and dimmest among us want to put forward. Do you think that these drooling simpleton white supremists feeling free to form an entire subgenre and flaunt it in and among the community might... maybe... possibly... have something to do with the fact that metal purposely and actively tries to discourage new people from joining? Does it try to actively keep out "undesirables" and will describe something new as "diluting" the purity of a proud lineage they think themselves a part of?
Just to be clear, because if I don't make this point, this will all be written off as entirely invalid, I am not saying that if you like metal or are even just your run-of-the-mill elitist, you're one of these Nazis. What I am saying is that this attitude of exclusion and looking down at people as inferior doesn't exactly make people who hold similar ideas in other areas feel as unwelcome as they should. In fact, some of these, and I will be generous here, "problematic" artists are not shouted down, and, in fact, are actively venerated. Alex Terrible in Slaughter to Prevail had a Nazi tattoo, and even though he now says he made "bad decisions in his youth," he doesn't really go into detail about what that means. Phil Anselmo of Pantera has done multiple Nazi salutes and been known to throw out racial slurs, and then hides behind "being drunk". People are wearing Burzum shirts to shows with no shame, but I'm sure this list of non-exhaustive examples is just nothing.
But fine. Make the same "poser leave the hall" comments and make sure to express that all other people are not worthy to stand next to you in liking something. You're doing your part to try to keep people here by making sure they feel unwelcome. That is what metal is for, right? Exclusively for the outsiders, those shunned by society. "You must be this socially awkward to hear these blast beats," right? It would be funny if it weren't so deeply sad.
What will welcoming these people do to metal exactly? Will it mean that Methwitch won't continue to make music that sounds like hell made real? Will it mean power metal will have to stop singing exclusively about dragons, fire, and metal? Will it mean Cannibal Corpse will suddenly have a lead singer who is obsessed with adorable plushies? Well, if you're worried about the last one, I've got bad news for you, sunshine.
No, none of the terrible things you envision will come to pass, just like it didn't when Metallica became a worldwide phenomenon. Just like it didn't happen when nu-metal brought hip hop and metal together, much to the chants of purists saying, "Keep your rap out of my metal." We've seen this all before, and metal has not diluted from it. It has become stronger, better, and taken more seriously as an artistic medium.
And if you do think that metal will be lost with this influx of new sounds and ideas, then you shouldn't be here. I would rather stand with a Sleep Token fan, hungry to discover new things and maybe only dip their toes into metal, than to listen to the same musical cliches that you can't and seem hellbent to never let the genre change or evolve.
And so let me end this by turning around the popular thing that I have seen bandied about metalhead circles:
"People that gatekeep and actively shit on people for their musical choices... They don't REALLY like metal. They should leave the hall, for they are not the trve cvltists that metal deserve and their poser opinion does not matter."
Andrew Weiler is the host of Grade A Explosives, on-air Sundays from 4-6 pm. He is also the Metal Director at CJLO.
MTELUS Reaches Euphoria Under Snow Strippers’ Spell
Walking out of Saint Laurent metro, it wasn’t hard to spot who was headed to the Snow Strippers show. Fuzzy leg warmers, mini shorts with ripped tights, and spiked hair all moved excitedly towards MTELUS. Under the venue’s painted ceiling stood a growing crowd, with sunglasses in their hair and plastic cups in their hands. The night was very much young and alive, as conversation mixed with electronic pop resonated across the room.
The room was full as Anna Luna began the show, her silhouette emerging in clouds of smoke as she danced on stage. The hyper-pop and electronic princess blended dreamy vocals with a heavier electronic sound with tracks like Rotten and "So High". Her reverbed lyrics lingered through the venue as strobes pierced the haze, setting the stage for the euphoric evening. Hands swayed in the air, eye makeup smudged from sweat and heat of the night, and the smell of cigarettes was unavoidable yet welcomed - The scene felt like something out of a Skins episode. Behind the DJ deck was Los Angeles producer Eera, who followed with his own hypnotic set. Despite the doors having opened hours ago, spirits and energy were high, bodies pressed up against each other moving as one.
As 10pm came around, three drinks deep, a Crystal Castles track playing through the speakers faded as the room turned black. As Tatianna Schwaninger and Graham Perez stepped onto the stage, effortlessly commanding the venue under pulsing red and purple lights, seconds seemed to slow down. Snow Strippers started with the chaotically explosive "Just Your Doll" as everyone in the room jumped around. The moment felt like a dream, as the audience was mesmerized by the duo’s perfectly chaotic and messy nature. Despite oxygen feeling sparse as bodies pushed and shoved against each other, the heat of the moment seemed to only add to the euphoria. Vocalist Schwaninger seemed untouchably cool, dancing around the stage in her red top and shorts, glitchy vocals flooding the room as Perez was stationed behind the deck. Lights swirled behind them as the crowd accompanied the duo through every note, beat and breath. Phones, old digital and VHS cameras swayed in the air, all wanting to capture the moment, though none could come close to capturing the night’s essence. Tracks melted into each other, the night passing in a blur.
As Schwaninger sang the eclectic and raw "So What If I’m A Freak" into the room, the audience sang every word back. The track is unapologetically messy, loud and chaotic, well encompassing the Snow Strippers aesthetic. As the track’s sample from a viral YouTube video I’m with the suicide squad brought the song to its peak, the duo took the whole room on a trip, whether you were high or sober. The show was surreal, as tracks like "Know My Name" and "Aching Like It’s swallowed the crowd". After many tracks spanning across their discography and repeated alarm and gunshot effects, with sweat clinging to skin and an aftertaste of tequila, the energy reached its peak as the familiar "Under Your Spell" started playing. Imposing lights consumed the venue, the smoke thick as the duo’s silhouettes cut through the haze. As they performed their most popular song, it was difficult to properly see them because of the sea of bodies moving up and down – yet you could still feel the ecstasy of the moment as the ground shook through chopped vocals and synths.
The night ended unapologetically loud and messy with the explosive Castle, the duo drowned in the flashing stage lights as spilled drinks covered the floor. The aftermath of the night lingered outside the venue through the groups raving about the show over a joint outside or the two girls singing "Know My Name" in the metro - Snow Strippers proved that Indie Sleaze is in good hands.
McGill’s Lilith Fair Returns Bigger and Better in 2026
As a first-year student at Concordia, I’d never been to McGill’s Lilith Fair, though I’m aware that it happened last year as well. This mini-festival, organized by the McGill Collective for Gender Equality and McGill’s Jam for Justice, is inspired by the original Lilith Fair, founded by Sarah McLachlan in 1997. Her goal with this festival was to promote female artists and address gender inequality in the music industry. To do this, she selected only female artists or female-led bands to perform, which McGill’s lineup reflected as well (with the addition of queer-led artists as well). This year’s sets were absolutely fantastic, with Night 1 showcasing Boyish Apocalypse, PascalePascale, Fionavair and Bebe and Oona; and Night 2 with 2kyerg, Angela Bégin (CJLO DJ!!), Palomine, and Niivi.
I was attending Lilith Fair on behalf of Palomine, a McGill band that only started performing in 2025 but has been doing shows all over Montreal (and the occasional Ontarian city). As I’m friends with one of the frontmen, I was asked to take photos of both Lilith shows, which I immediately said yes to. I’ve seen Palomine a few times, so I am a slight superfan, but I had never seen some of the bands before, and I was not disappointed.
I’d seen Niivi two summers ago in Ottawa at one of their first gigs (maybe it was their first ever), and they were just starting out. The singer, Niivi Snowball, is an Inuk musician whose music is centred around their Indigenous culture and the struggles they’ve faced because of this. Extremely emotionally charged, their songs were angry and loud but also extremely beautiful. Headlining Night 2, as was deserved, this band has improved so much since their first show. With a new guitarist and drummer, their set was incredibly fluid. Many of my friends were remarking on the skill level of the band, and the rest of the audience seemed to respond extremely well, dancing and moving the whole time.
Palomine, performing right before Niivi, definitely set them up for success. Every time I see this band, they get better. I especially love bringing my friends to see them because I know no one will ever be disappointed. Palomine’s songs are so intentional and atmospheric, often quite long and mostly full of beautiful instrumentals. It’s easy to get lost in their music, yet I find myself always fascinated by every part and every instrument. They gained a fifth member in the last couple of months, so they’re on the larger side, but by no means excessive. Every aspect feels very necessary. I would highly recommend a Palomine show to anyone feeling uninspired or low, as I guarantee a surge in passion and overall joy afterwards. Though no matter your mood, this band will certainly be enjoyed whenever and is one to look out for.
PascalePascale is also hugely inspirational for me. This was my second time seeing her, the first was when she opened for Palomine in early November, a show that arguably might’ve changed my life (I’ll avoid being dramatic). Performing mostly solo and sometimes with a band, Pascale has mastered the art of riffs and rhythms. Her songs aren’t overcomplicated, but they’re almost sneaky, featuring a sudden harmonic or chord change when you’d least expect it. Her music is so hypnotic and incredibly moving that I often find myself sitting in an excited anticipation of where each song will go. Especially seeing her now with a band, there was a moment where the entire crowd reacted to a change in the song, which was so cathartic. It is euphoric moments like these that are so unique to live music, and Pascale delivers them every time. I can't wait to see what she does next, and I’m sure I’ll be increasingly impressed.
If it wasn’t obvious, this experience was incredibly rewarding. I’m constantly astounded by the music scene in Montreal, especially student-led bands. I struggle to understand how anyone has time to organize these events while juggling their academics and personal lives. However, you wouldn’t know that any of these artists were students based on how professional and practiced they present themselves. I’m sure Lilith Fair will return next year, EVEN bigger and better. I feel so lucky to have attended, and to anyone who didn’t know about it, look out for it next year!
Quinton Barnes Helps Me Understand the Meaning of Life
A few days before Quinton Barnes was set to perform at Casa Del Popolo, I listened to Quinton’s most recent project, Black Noise, an album characterized by the unsettling cacophony of orchestral instruments inspired by Miles Davis, overlayed over an otherwise beautifully produced album. On the day of the show, I woke up at 6 in the morning to catch a rideshare from Ottawa to Montreal. At around 7:30, right at the Quebec/Ontario border, the driver hit a patch of ice going over 100 km/h, lost control and swerved off the side of the road, nestling itself in a snowy ditch, leaving us unscathed. I had narrowly escaped death, I should have been overjoyed, but instead I found myself sobbing on the side of the highway. The realization that my life could be taken away at any moment, without preparation, that I could never be fully in control over whether I lived or died, filled me with dread.
As the concert drew closer, the uncomfortable saxophone runs, the erratic screams of the trumpets, and the screeching strings that I remembered from Black Noise played through my head. While I knew it might not be the easiest listening experience, I walked into the bar with confidence and made my way to the front of the crowd, knowing that I was prepared for what was to come…or so I thought. Quinton Barnes walked up to the stage, plugged his phone into the sound system, and affronted the audience with booming 808s, otherworldly synthesizers, distorted samples and an aggressive style of rapping. This was not Black Noise; this was something totally different. Life had taken me by surprise once again, and it wouldn’t be the last time that happened that night.
In the first half of the show, Barnes performed songs from “For the Love of Drugs”, which, according to the artist, takes inspiration from industrial R&B, hip-hop, electronic artists like SOPHIE and Arca, Afropessimism and “a loud ass disruptive baby.” I found myself bobbing my head to the incredibly heavy and grimy instrumental on “To Freedom”, but it was when the song suddenly switched to an elegant, synthy, beautifully sung melody that I realized how truly talented this artist was. As the night went on, Barnes continued showcasing his versatility. Elements from the Southern Trap movements of the early 2010s appeared on songs like “Stunner” and “Scenes Of”, while the ethereal production on songs like “Fuck On U” turned the room into a dream sequence.
Throughout the show, Barnes occupied the instrumental breaks with energetic and explosive dancing. Despite this, the crowd remained stubbornly still, as if in direct defiance of Barnes’ enthusiasm. This all changed when “LaLaLa”, the first track of the album CODE NOIR, blasted out of the speakers. An uneasy feeling spread throughout the room as if we were all thinking, “Uh-oh, am I gonna start dancing too?” As Barnes continued performing his catchy electronic dance songs, the crowd started to stir, the tiny backroom of the bar morphed into a Boiler Room set, and time seemed to stop. Soon, the whole room was dancing as if in a trance, and I was enthralled. Through both his infectious rhythms and his visually stimulating stage presence, Barnes could make any crowd dance, and I suspect it won’t be too long until every club in the city will be scrambling to book him.
In the days following the accident, I came to the realisation that the unexpected is what makes the human experience as beautiful as it is tragic. Not knowing what will happen next is part of the fun, and I believe that there are very few people on this planet who could have made me understand this better than Quinton Barnes. When his show finally ended, I realized that for the second time that day, I had lost control over my own life, and I couldn’t have been happier about it.
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