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For the last few years prior to the pandemic I had been quite fortunate to attend FME, Festival de Musique Émergentes in Rouyn-Noranda. So much so that the festival is now something I always anticipate. So after a couple of years' absence and this being the 20th anniversary of the festival, I was particularly excited about heading up to this year's edition. The usual seven hour drive turned into an epic test of patience when every road ahead was traffic jammed. Luckily we had good tunes in hand and the promise of even greater adventures ahead to keep us going during the seven-hour-turned-nine-hour-drive to the festival.   

After arriving and settling in, I had the opportunity to be part of the audience during the Paste Magazine live video recording of Johnny Pilgrim. A native of Valleyfield, Quebec where he was originally known as Jean Pellerin. In 1979 he left the province to seek his fortune in California. Armed with talent and a movie camera he became a much sought after videographer working with bands like Def Leppard, Guns N’ Roses and Metallica. Now his career has turned 360 degrees where he returns to his native province to sing the songs of Quebec’s native son, Tex Lecor. On his new EP, Sur la Trace De Tex Lecor he records six of Tex Lecor’s classic ballads like, “Grand Jos” and “Campangard.”

After finishing the Paste video Johnny Pilgrim headed over to the Diable Rond for a late night concert. Always humble, he often paid tribute to the roots of the French-Canadian songs he was playing. Recounting to the audience how that he grew up on the songs, hearing his mother sing along to them when he was four years old. Backed by a band of all-star players he educated the bar, and thanks to some outdoor speakers; the many happy passers-by on the history of Tex Lecor.  

Balaklava Blues are a Toronto based ensemble started by Mark and Maricha Marczyk from the Lemon Bucket Orkestra. They combine traditional Ukrainian chants with techno multimedia performances. One of the few overtly political acts at the festival they put on a good show filled with political angst. A particularly moving moment was when they played their latest single, “Shelter Our Sky.”

Capping off the first day was the Brooklyn, New York band Gustaf. Comprised of Tine Hill on bass, Vram Kherlopian on guitar, Melissa Lucciola on drums, Tarra Thiessen on vocals and percussion and finally, Lydia Gammill on lead vocals. I found Gammill’s on stage style could best be likened to if David Byrne and Ian Curtis had a daughter. Often smacking herself on the side of the head while dancing in a stylish suit. She is contrasted by the often digitized singing and the cartoon-like Josie and the Pussycats dance style of Tarra Thiessen. Their show at Cabaret de las Derniers Chance lived up to all the hype that was buzzing amongst the press at the festival, billed as one of the up and coming bands not to miss. Their hour-long set was fun and filled with intent. They played the entirety of their 2021 debut album Audio Drag for Ego Slogs plus a few new songs, “Produce”,  “What Do You Mean” and “Grounds.” Once again we have a video from the good folks at Paste.

With more outdoor stages it was hard to walk around the city without hearing music. In the FME preview article, I mentioned how the city gets involved. Not just garnishing store front windows with all things FME but I should mention the never ending work of the over four hundred volunteers that make the festival possible. After a fabulously long first day of the festival, Friday started slow and easy with pop artist Lucill from Chibougamau, Quebec. Songs like “Pour un Instant” showed a range of styles ranging from country, folk to classic rock and pop but their sound always came back to the easy listening vocals of frontman Raphaël Bussières. 

It was indie band night at Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda and first up was ex-professional snowboarder Gus Englehorn. Joined by his partner Estée Preda on drums they performed songs from his first album Death & Transfiguration like, “You Broke My Collar Bone” and almost all of his latest 2022 release Dungeon Master. Englehorn's songs had a quirky, root for the underdog style that was always grounded by the perfect timing of his bandmate Estée Prada. 

 Next up was Tamar Aphek who grew up in Tel Aviv, Israel where she became a leading figure in the country’s underground music scene and helped organize one of Israel’s prominent music festivals, Indie Negev. Her concert at FME started off with an ambient almost drone-like sound but then slowly picked up momentum as the concert went on. Exploring her latest album, 2021’s All Bets Are Off, it sounded like a shoegaze band that got bored and decided to rock out, or as I like to say, “rockgaze.” Aphek calls her style "jazz & roll."

 Closing out the evening was Calgary’s own Chad VanGaalen. With stripped down arrangements, just bass, drums and VanGaalen on guitar, songs like “Pine and Clover” lacked the slick production of his albums. Instead the songs had a much rawer, more aggressive sound. And yes, there's yet again another Paste video.

The most surprising and maybe the best show of Friday was the pop-up concert by Avalanche Kaito. A trio of musicians that combine African and western sounds that create, as it says in their bio, “an unruly and unforgettable sonic explosion.” The concert held in a parking lot, Stationnement Falco, was way too small to contain the effervescent singer, Kaito Winse. During extended instrumentals by his band mates Benjamin Chaval on drums and Nico Gitto on guitar, Winse would often leave the stage and engage with the audience. Constantly singing and/or dancing like a whirling dervish as if he was possessed by the music being played. Often he would run across and around the street helter-skelter spreading the positive vibes.   

Closing out Friday with a late night early morning 1AM show by MMNQNS, pronounced mannequins. Vowels are so passé when you're a band that describes itself as a post-punk-power-pop-psych-synth-gaze-whatever band from Rouen, France. The wall of sound created by Gregoire Maainot on drums, Félix Ramaen on bass, Marc Lebreuilly on guitar and Adrian D’Epinay on vocals seemed to overpower the small stage at Cabaret de la Dernière Chance.The quartet stormed through their latest album, “The Second Principle” much to the delight of the audience.   

The festival was kicking on all cylinders by Saturday, the third day of the festival. The massive rains of the morning had subsided leaving a chill in the air that reminded one that they are indeed far north and fall is not far off! But then Allô Fantôme took the stage and suddenly, the audience was transported back to a sunny afternoon in 1970’s Saint-Tropez. Allô Fantôme is the new project by Samuel Gendron that takes inspiration from 70’s extravagance with its rich arrangements and vintage style harmonies. The octet played the complete self-titled EP that was released this year and had the audience dancing to songs like “Sur la Pointe des Pieds” and “Allô Allô.” Allô Fantôme will also be playing at this year’s Pop Montreal Music Festival.

Later on in the evening pop and soul artists had their night at Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda. While not my usual fare of musical genres, it’s good to expand horizons as they say. R&B/Soul artist from Montreal, Fernie, led off with an inspired set channeling the likes of Billy Ocean and Daniel Caesar while showcasing his 2021 release, Aurora. 

Next up was Lydia Képinski with her Las Vegas ready show. Képinski and her band belted out her latest album Depuis with all the lights, smoke and provocative dancing one would expect from the next big pop star. 

Propelled by the critical success of his 2018 album La Nuit est un Panthère, Les Louanges is back with a new album, Crash, and after a quick break he took to the stage performing the new album to a rather appreciative audience that seemed to be enjoying themselves. But by that point I was all popped out and about ready to catch one of the bands I was most curious about: Growlers Choir. I didn’t have to travel far as they were playing across the street from the theater. I got there early as I wanted to be up front, but unfortunately my plan was foiled when we had to wait in the cold night air for forty-five minutes for the show to start. By that point I was less curious and more impatient to be wowed. I was not. They were definitely different, with sound check sounding like Dracula trying his luck at yodelling. I lost my spot up front when I got impatient and left to see if Animal Collective was still playing at the main outdoor stage, they were not. When I returned, the show had finally started. It was less operatic than I was hoping for and more like the name of the group implies, growls and grunts. Which was actually perfect for my mood as I was kicking myself for missing Animal Collective but the bit that I heard walking between shows which sounded quite good. Apparently I was not the only one to miss their show, apparently there was  a rather low turnout. But then it was a pretty cold night with lots of great music to be had indoors. From what I was told they played a killer show with a mix of old songs like,“In The Flowers,” “The Purple Bottle,” “Bluish”, and “Chores.” Also on the setlists were some songs off their new album Time Skiffs. 

After all my earlier frustration, Saturday ended on a high note when I caught an Atlanta based collective CDSM show at Hub Dejardins. CDSM or Celebrity Death Slot Machine put a funky smile on my face and those in attendance. The post punk disco rhythms of the band propel the lyrics which often deal with fame and or death. Such as in their song GFH or Gun For Hire, (they do like the initialisms):   "she screamed / ”get out you f***ing narc, you f***ing creep!” / I tried to run but the knife hit my throat / and now I’m choking on my blood / like a pigeon in the mud."

One thing that FME is known for is the metal night that occurs on Sunday night, the final day of the festival. This year's lineup appeared quite promising with Abitabyss, First Fragment and Dying Fetus making up the head banging bill. But before that Ombiigizi was scheduled to play and they were another band that I did not know but was quite intrigued about. Ombiigizi pronounced om-Bee-ga-Zay meaning this is noisy is a collaboration between Zoon (Daniel Monkman) and Status/ Non Status (Adam Sturgeon). They are Anishnaabe artists who explore their culture through sound. I have to say the show was noisy and extremely guttreal. The band started to get their groove going on songs like “Birch Bark Paper Trails” from their latest album Sewn Back Together when much to my surprise, thirty minutes into the concert it abruptly ended.  

With some extra time to kill I was able to enjoy one last quick walk around picturesque  Rouyn-Noranda before heading over to the metal fest at Petit Théâtre. Local death metal stalwarts Abitabyss, who have been active for over fifteen years started the evening off with their energetic and welcoming show. The band proved that metal can be fun and lighthearted. Dressed in local hunting and mining attire they blistered through their latest album Rural Métal and some songs from the older albums Supremacy 08 and Requiem du Secteur Primaire.

The evening got much more serious when extreme neoclassical metal band from Longueuil Quebec, First Fragment took to the stage. Led by the manic guitar of Phil Tougas and the impeccable fretless bass work of Dominic Lapointe, the duo clearly liked showing off their technical prowess on songs like “Gloire Éternelle”;  with its flamenco and technical metal stylings.

Closing out the night was Marlboro, Maryland’s own Dying Fetus. They played songs from their extensive catalog like “One shot, One Kill” from 2003’s Stop at Nothing  and the title track from the critically acclaimed 2017 album Wrong One to F*** With. Even though the band is getting up there in age one just had to look at the goings on in the circle pit to know why they are still one of the better metal bands around. 

The trio of bands carried on the FME tradition of celebrating metal. Which much to my surprise is what was played on the house speakers after the Dying Fetus concert. It was just too cool, metalheads singing and dancing along to Kool and the Gang. 

All juiced up after three hours of head banging I headed over to check out CDSM who were closing out the festival with another late night show. The venue, a garage parking lot that happened to be next to the main stage where Hurbert Lenoir and his band were putting on a concert for the ages. Going around an hour and half longer than expected, Lenoir refused to let the party/concert end. I suppose he, like everybody else, just didn’t want to go home and they were having too much fun stage diving and sharing crackers and hummus with the audience.   

While waiting patiently for the Hubert Lenoir concert to end, the members of CDSM were visibly excited about ending the festival, and wanted to do it on a high note. And that they did. Playing through their entire catalog of songs and providing some great jams along the way. It felt like those in attendance wanted the band to play till dawn and when they called out for an encore saxophone player Tyler Jundt said,“the only way the show could continue is if we had written more songs.” 

And so ended the twentieth edition of FME. There were still a few diehards dancing the night away at the after-hour dj lounge. But for me it was time to stagger back to the hotel and get ready for the trip home where I will impatiently wait for the twenty-first edition of Festival de Musique Émergentes.

There was an electric undercurrent of excitement as fans shuffled into the Corona Theater last Monday night to see legendary post punk/new wave act, Echo and the Bunnymen. The band is currently on a tour of North America celebrating over 40 years since the band’s incarnation in Liverpool’s punk scene in the early 80s. 

Among the crowd there was a mutual understanding that this concert was meant to be a celebration. Fans brought out their inner goth accordingly, by dressing in leather, Victorian-style frills and with spiked hair that seemed to go in every direction. Others sported black post-punk band t-shirts;, perhaps to quietly boast, or better yet, to revel in the crowd’s shared love for all things gloomy. 

Right on time, the first act quickly and cautiously entered the stage.They were Bye Parula, a local act whose debut album is set to come out this January. They performed with an ecstatic enthusiasm that only an up-and-coming band could possess. In between songs, the lead singer explained how indebted he was to be performing with a legendary act such as the Bunnymen, as well as how he heard the news that his band would be opening: by receiving a phone call from lead singer Ian McCulloch while doing his laundry. 

After the first act closed up shop, an impatient crowd watched as the roadies meticulously set up the next band’s gear. Yes, the usual standard stuff but this time with one eccentricity. Next to McCulloch’s microphone was a table with three glasses lined up neatly in a row containing whisky, beer and milk. The last item was the most peculiar, an unopened bear shaped jar of honey, sitting and ready for duty. 

Once the lights went down and the crowd saw the first few silhouettes emerge from the fog, there was an almost religious exultation. The association of the image of Ian McCulloch and the Bunnymen are that of gritty black and white photographs from inner vinyl sleeves, film footage from foggy clubs and mysterious album art that depict figures as part of the larger, dark wonder of nature. Here they were now performing 40 years later, bringing the image of themselves to life while simultaneously keeping the fantasized narrative pulsing.

They opened with the chilling riff of “Going Up”, which couldn't had been a better start seeing as it's the first song off their debut album Crocodiles released in 1980. The set list was indulgent for fans, the majority of songs featured from their beloved early albums. The crowd, becoming an untrained choir, sang along to the band’s most popular songs with McCulloch playfully letting the crowd take over a few choruses. But when he did return to the mic, McCulloch’s vocals spindled and bounced, curved and dropped, as only a raw and masterful voice can. It was indeed a privilege to hear a vocalist who has such a short path from the voice to the soul. 

Echo and the Bunnymen are continuing their tour across North America with a handful of east coast dates, all while enchanting audiences from city to city.

The At the Gates Slaughter of the Soul anniversary tour stopped in Montreal this past Friday. The seminal 1995 album turned 25 years old in 2020, and while the band was supposed to embark on a special tour that year to celebrate, virus-related delays resulted in the live dates getting postponed to this year. Thankfully At the Gates stayed true to their plans, touring the highly anticipated live set for North American audiences this year.

Although fans undoubtedly came for the headlining act, supporting acts Enforced and Municipal Waste made waiting for At the Gates a little bit easier. Sporting a broken arm supported in a sling, Enforced frontman Knox Colby commanded the stage with a lively performance, delivering his signature raw punk vocals to a packed Corona Theatre. Some of his instrumented counterparts could have done a little more than stand still while playing their guitars however, but the up-and-coming Richmond, Virginia crossover thrashers thankfully have an impressive catalogue of jumpy music to rely on which made for a good show.

Second opening act Municipal Waste may have stolen the night. Also from Richmond, Virginia, the crossover thrashers have been fan-favourites in the metal scene for over twenty years now, and for good reason. The energy in the room immediately went up a notch when the group took the stage, as the moshpit immediately doubled in size when the band’s chuggy thrashing onslaught began. And despite spending most of the night yelling into the microphone, frontman Tony Foresta was in a very welcoming mood, charismatically throwing smiles at the audience and engaging in fun banter between songs.

The group rifled through staple setlist tracks such as “You’re Cut Off,” “Sadistic Magician,” and “Breathe Grease.” During the anthemic “Wave of Death,” Foresta asked the audience to get as many people crowdsurfing as possible, and Montreal delivered. Boots and Converse were immediately flying through the air, as the frontman retrieved an empty recycling bin backstage and chucked it into the moshpit. Their set was a fun time.

Headlining act At the Gates finally took the stage, much to the crowd’s enjoyment. The Gothenburg legends played the entirety of the Slaughter of the Soul LP as promised, while also throwing other tracks into the mix, such as singles from their most recent record The Nightmare of Being, and 2018’s To Drink from the Night Itself.

In comparison to Enforced and Municipal Waste, who come from the same city and play the same style of music, At the Gates’ flavour of melodic death metal was quite refreshing to the ears. Still, their fast-paced yet sturdy songs got people bouncing around quite a bit, if not with a little help from the vibe-setting Municipal Waste prior. It was amazing to hear Slaughter of the Soul in its entirety, from mere melodic interludes to the heavy-hitting title track, which had the entire venue screaming along to the chorus. The group were also in top form, with original vocalist Tomas Lindberg bringing high energy alongside the other band members, one of which being live session guitarist Daniel Martinez, who also plays with technical death metal legends Atheist.

While there were no other complaints, an hour and a half of At the Gates’ music revealed how repetitive their material is. Although the group opened strong with their signature style, their tracks lacked variety, which created a lull towards the back half of their performance. Lindberg even hinted at the audience’s sapped energy, as he mockingly made a yawning gesture towards the crowd between vocal lines. To be fair, the waning energy may have been the result of the two high intensity openers.

Regardless, seeing At the Gates live, on top of hearing every song from the famous Slaughter of the Soul in-concert, was quite the treat. Although the tour has now concluded, please make sure to catch At the Gates, Municipal Waste, and/or Enforced the next chance you get.

Hunter co-hosts The Iron Club, your weekly guide to the dark and mysterious realm of underground metal, which airs every Sunday from 9:00 - 11:00 p.m.

While August in Blue seeks to celebrate the Afro-American contribution of blues music, the genre week that today comes to its close, also encourages us to reflect on the overall role the blues plays in our lives even when we’re not listening to the blues. To have the blues, is in part, to experience the blues music. The blues can be found everywhere, especially in literature.  And we owe it to blues musicians for furthering the ethos of ‘having the blues’ beyond music.

So, suppose you could write 240 mini love letters. Who would you address them to—what would you address them to? For writer Maggie Nelson, it was the color blue. In the 2009 experimental Bluets, Nelson melds memoir, poetry and philosophy and essay writing in attempts to transcend the signage of language by finding ways to discover what the color blue means to her, all while detailing her affinity for blue without any of the clichés of having the blues. As Nelson does so, she also grieves the loss of a lover.

Nelson obviously is not the first person to write about having the blues. Our notion of Melancholia as a self-reflexive state of being aware of our sadness and choose to continue wallowing within it as an “art” that heightens one’s appreciation for life comes from the late 19^th century Romantics. But even before poet John Keats wrote of Melancholy as a “wakeful anguish of the soul” and before William Wordsworth poeticized the bucolic vales “overflowing with the sound” of a nightingale’s “melancholy strain”, Melancholy was considered by the Ancient Greeks as one of the body’s Four Humours; the four bodily liquids that determined a person’s well-being. When a person was Melancholic, it meant that there was an excess of black bile in the spleen, and so the notion of treating any emotion under a clinical microscope formed how civilizations to come would rationalize feelings.

Take Robert Burton’s The Anatomy of Melancholy for instance. In 1621, Burton publishes the first edition of the medical treatise addressing Melancholy (and what would be in many hundreds of years later, Nick Cave’s favorite book), in over 900 pages that explored what he believed was the nature, symptoms and causes of Melancholy (which to him we’re God, witches, and devils among other external forces), potential cures such as dieting and cleanses, as well as distinguishing between religious Melancholy and love Melancholy. And as history goes, women’s feelings of sadness or depression were always dismissed as delirium. But in The Anatomy of Melancholy, Burton also furthers the sexist trope of connecting a women’s melancholy to being sexually deprived whereas a man’s melancholy is continually associated with intellect—for instance, take the Romantic poet Lord Byron who is revered for being a brooding figure. In The Anatomy, Burton proposes that women ought to domesticate “those vicious vapours which come from menstrous blood” through marriage, under a chapter title that I’ll let speak for itself: “Maids', Nuns' and Widows' Melancholy.”

Nelson’s Bluets, however, is unapologetic. Most of her memories she recounts in the book are memories of “the fucking” between her and her former lover. Within the context of herstory and when Nelson writes “there is a color inside of the fucking, but it is not blue”, she subverts the sexism that’s pronounced in The Anatomy and the notion of associating Melancholy to sexuality as a whole; demonstrating how her blues are instead associated to trauma, by subsuming the color to the loss of her former lover who she coins as “the prince of blue.” Nelson also juxtaposes the visceral experience of feeling vs. the palpable experience of sight between her heartbreak and love for the color blue with her close friend who has become quadriplegic. What arises as a result, is a tension between what can and cannot be expressed about emotion, which blue intensifies for Nelson.

With the loss present in Nelson’s life, from the pains of heartbreak prompted from the ‘prince of blue’ and her close friend’s life-altering disability, my favorite moments from the book happen to be the ones that meditate on her consequential loneliness and nostalgia. One of the book’s themes is grappling with solitude, yet Bluets is anything but isolating with the writing stylistically reminiscent of a written letter; which perhaps is Nelson’s way of garnering closeness, even if it’s in the hands of some reader. This calls to mind when in Letters to Milena, Franz Kafka suggests, “writing letters is actually an intercourse with ghosts”, and Bluets' epistolary-like writing style also points to another realization Nelson must come to terms with: that writing to the prince of blue, and of the memories is to speak to an ideal that may never have been fully present.

It becomes apparent to readers that Nelson’s book of all things blue, is actually one of letting go, “for just because one loves blue does not mean that one wants to spend one’s life in a world made of it”; a reality fraught from nostalgia’s allure. She calls to mind an instance where Leonard Cohen, in an interview, admits that “he could no longer remember the specifics of the love triangle that the song ['Famous Blue Raincoat'] describes.” To which Nelson confesses, she “find[s] this forgetting quite heartening and quite tragic . . . for to wish to forget how much you loved someone- and then, to actually forget- can feel, at times, like the slaughter of a beautiful bird who chose, by nothing short of grace, to make a habitat of your heart.” Notions of the passing of time and the ephemeral come to the forefront without ever being directly addressed, but the heaviness lingers between the lines; the weight being left to sympathise with anybody who has experienced heartbreak and the torture of memory.