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The sweet September air is ripe with the promise of magic, whimsy and enchantment, none of which will ever be as palpable as it was in the walk over to the Théatre Beanfield. As I headed there in my beat-up platform Jordan Doc Marten boots (a concert staple), my wired headphones beamed The Brian Jonestown Massacre straight into my ears in preparation for the show I was en route to see. After a slightly unaccounted-for kerfuffle at the box office, I entered the raked auditorium (my favourite concert viewing experience) of the Théatre Beanfield and settled into my nook on stage right.

No sooner had I found my spot than opener, Minneapolis's own Flavor Crystals, wandered onstage. Meandering into their set of a genre-bending, rather indefinable blend of psychedelic shoegaze adjacent alt-rock jumble, I thought I understood their schtick. That is, until drummer Jon Menke exploded into action, transforming their standardly enjoyable – if derivative – set into a dynamic, animalistic experience of a definitive punk rock flavour. Just when I thought I knew what was in store, I was dealt yet another blow when lead singer and guitarist Josh Richardson brought out a melodica, infusing a layer of twang and eclectic charm to the already quirked-up set. Out of left field is how I’d describe the act, in the most earnestly appreciative way possible. The only moment I let my cynicism get the better of me was when Richardson, upon finishing the set, threw his guitar on the ground and marched off stage, a move which teetered towards Pete Townsend fanboy cosplay far too much for my liking; I could have done without the slightly brutal reminder that I was watching a bunch of middle aged men live out their fantasy of being rockstars. 

After being left with residual full-body vibrations from the Flavor Crystals’ magnetically percussive set, I settled back in for Brian Jonestown Massacre (despite battling some of the worst concert etiquette from the inter-generational crowd). Emerging from backstage in a slightly somnambulant fashion earned by their *mature* age bracket, was the band, Brian Jonestown Massacre themselves. Anton Newcombe was dressed to the nines, or at least for some sort of occasion one couldn’t quite pinpoint, donning a feather in his cap (literally and figuratively). Ditching the introductory preamble, the band erupted into “Whoever You Are” from their 2008 record Give It Back!. Rather than staying loyal to a particular album, the band opted for something of a “best-of” setlist, spanning their varied discography throughout the years. 

Most captivating to me was the presence of Joel Gion, dedicated tambourine and maraca player, who notably wore bug-eye goggles and looked as though he was in a hypnotized trance. I’m not entirely sure he knew he was playing a show. While the entire band stayed true to their dad-like “Boomer” essence, with Newcombe playing mostly with his back turned to the audience, and between song breaks awkwardly long enough for millennial fans to craft the perfect Snapchat story, it only made their bumbling stage presence all the more authentically endearing. 

In this political moment, it is almost impossible for artists from the States to ignore the turmoil into which their country is rapidly plummeting, and this was no different for Brian Jonestown Massacre, with Newcombe expressing that, “I don’t know what’s going on there, but I didn’t do it”. This sentiment is made all the more humorous considering his own past controversial presence, engaging in frequent brawls with band members and audience members alike, in addition to a habit of callously speaking his mind without consideration. Continuing this brief stand-up comedy interlude, Newcombe jested that “if I had a million dollars I’d make Morrissey make me a fucking hamburger and shut up” almost entirely unprompted. 

After relocating to a higher vantage point around the halfway point (due to the frankly unbearably irritating behaviour in the pit), the band launched into “Anemone”, a clear crowd favourite. Almost as though connected through a hive-mind, the crowd moved and swayed as one together in a trance, mimicking the movement quality of the tendrils of a sea anemone itself. To close out the show, they performed “Super-Sonic”, the magnum opus of the night, even bringing out a Sitar (played by Rishi Dhir from Elephant Stone, according to setlist.fm). The proto-orchestral malleable wall of sound sounded as though the guitars were alive and screaming (leading me to question at times if the scream-sounds were coming from the crowd itself), which, when blended with the tinnitus in my ears, created an unbelievably vibrant crescendo to end off the night. As I was among the first to lead the mass exodus of concert-goers, I felt a pleasant buzz which carried me through Griffintown in a somnambulant state of my own. I left with the sense that I had gained some kind of insight from this motley crew of geriatric rockstars, although I’m not quite sure yet what exactly it was. 

Who knew Boomers could jump four inches into the air, repeatedly? Anyone caught in the ebullience of The Pogues’ high-energy set at MTelus on September 12th would have witnessed elders defying their years, pogoing, bobbing, hooting, and expressing genuine glee for a legendary band whose return to our city was highly anticipated. With a venue near capacity, the cool September weather did its part to keep the air conditioning in check, much appreciated given the colossal metabolic activity on both the floor and the stage.

Kicking things off promptly at eight was Montreal blues guitarist Shane Murphy, known in west end circles for his omnipresence in bars, clubs, and local media. Though Murphy and his trio may have had the chops, and the pedigree, to sustain attention as an opener, his brand of snake-shuffling, delta-style blues proved to be a curious choice, running counter to the type of aggressive folk-punk pioneered by The Pogues. As such, audience members could be seen milling about during his ten-song performance, while conserving energy for what they sensed was coming. It was a wise decision.

 A carefully curated set of tracks followed, transporting the crowd to 80s England during set change with impromptu sing-alongs breaking out to indelible anthems from the likes of Billy Bragg and the Clash.  The soundtrack appeared to work its magic, imbuing listeners with that distinctly rebuffed era of Thatcherism, while paying homage to a British scene firmly in keeping with The Pogues’ countercultural roots. A simple backdrop of a cantered ship in a bottle brilliantly summed up the band's ethos, turning microcosmic traditions on their head as they plowed forthright, creating new rules, consequences be damned.

With the stage becoming a litter of mandolins, banjos, drum kits, horns and keys, sensations were heightened without a note being played. By the time The Pogues launched into fiery opener ‘The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn’, the crowd was reeling – tempered, even - as they absorbed the sixteen members pulling out all stops. With core original members Spider Stacey on tin flute, James Fearnley on accordion, and the great Jem Finer alternating between banjo and hurdy gurdy duties, the stage was populated with a who’s who of Irish and British musical talent. Among the many worth singling out were Bad Seeds drummer James Sclavunos on drums, Glasgow harp player/vocalist Iona Zajac, and the ever-steadfast uilleann piper/flutist Fiachra Meek, whose support on the tin flute gave Stacey reprieve, allowing him to allot much-needed lung power to his main vocal duties. 

 With a rat-a-tat onslaught of spirited jigs and amped folk music, The Pogues are famed for, the audience took several songs to fully immerse themselves in the joyous cacophony the collective was peddling. Then, suddenly, an about face: Beer suddenly flew, and bodies floated as a human sea permitted itself to give in to the vigour. Henceforth, the Montreal crowd, as it’s famous for, didn’t disappoint, giving Stacey much to play into throughout the rest of the performance. Drawn-out periods for arrangement of the Byzantine musical setups allowed the charismatic front man to practice his French, gently provoke, and otherwise banter with his bandmates, keeping energies at a high as the throng stomped and shouted ‘Ole, Ole, Ole’.  Special mention goes to the road crew, whose unenviable task of navigating the clutter of mikes, instruments, and bodies to assure seamless transitions was commendable.   

Not so much a set as a last waltz, members took turns memorializing such Pogues gems as ‘And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda’, and ‘A Pair of Brown Eyes’. Zajac and wonderful Irish singer Lisa O’Neill brought a particularly inspired vocal presence to ‘London Girl’, with Stacey at his matinee-idol coolest, delivering the goods in a boogie no doubt honouring their musical forebearers.     

Though the tour was billed as a 40th anniversary tribute to their trailblazing record ‘Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash,’ really, it was a celebration of frontman and principal songwriter Shane MacGowan, who we lost less than two years ago. With his absence particularly noticeable on such gems as ‘Rainy Night in Soho’ and ‘The Old Main Drag’, it was only midway through their set that the band acknowledged his demise, dedicating the traditional song ‘The Parting Glass’ in his honour – a piece they famously performed at his funeral. Though reference to MacGowan may not have been overt, it was clear his spirit drove the proceedings, with members bringing personal flair and integrity to songs closely associated with his signature growl.

The Pogues finished their last of five punchy encores in dramatic fashion, plunging into high-tempo favourites ‘Streams of Whiskey’, and ‘Sally McLennane’. The crowd - doused, soused, and full of frenzy – were left buzzing, ready to take the rest of the night on like rowdy pirates casting off to sea, certainly the way The Pogues intended it and no doubt a sentiment MacGowan would raise a glass to.   

Donald is the host of Eastern Promises, an exploration of the music of Eastern Canada, on air every other Sunday from 8-9pm

Kawalees, Montreal's Arabic cultural cabaret, hosted a musical tribute dedicated to the legacy of the Lebanese artist, Ziad Rahbani, who passed away this summer.

International Overdose Awareness Day is August 31st, but in Montreal, a gathering to raise awareness was held on August 28th at Place Émilie-Gamelin, and it was organized by the Quebec Association for Drug User Health Promotion (AQPSUD)

The event saw organizations gather to discuss the work they do with the drug-using population, many of whom were also offering free tools, resources and kits to help those who plan to consume drugs. 

Legalization of drug use is a long-term goal for many participants, but short-term they want the provincial government to back-track on the tabled bill 103. The bill aims to regulate supervised consumption sites. Some say the bill will prevent new sites from being opened and limit existing services.