OSM | Half Moon Run’s Masterful Return to The Symphonic… Home

by Marilyn Bouchard

On May 15 at the Maison symphonique was the last of 3 performances of the return of Half Moon Run with the Orchestre symphonique de Montréal conducted by Adam Johnson.

The evening began with Everyone’s Moving Out East, richly accompanied by the full orchestra. The soaring 9beat followed to the rhythm of brilliantly enriched percussion, delicately complemented by female backing vocals and violins, amplifying the light of the musical epic, which ended sharply at the climax, to the cheers of the crowd.

We came back down for Goodbye Cali, with the guys strolling across the stage in long strides to the rhythm of the promenade, which ended with the piano scores intertwining, veering into jazz. Crawl Back In then opened, softly, with only acoustic guitar and vocals backed by violins, quickly evolving into more complexity.

We found ourselves suspended for a moment in time, and I don’t know if it’s because of a little similarity with Hallelujah, but this one brought a tear to my eye. Immediately afterwards, the highlight of the evening, How Come My Body, one of my favourites, went completely wild, with the percussion and double bass weighing down the atmosphere and the female singers adding density to the choruses.

Razorblade and Loose Ends were presented in a rousing, rhythmic fashion, with the brass instruments, and solo trumpeter Paul Merkelo in particular, taking full advantage of their space. You won’t (look me in the eyes) was really well accompanied by violins, surprising us with a magnificent solo from Marianne Dugal in particular, and enveloped by female vocal harmonies, while the atmospheric Another Woman came close to Muse’s progressive/alternative rock with the orchestra and an abundance of staccatos. We were treated to a deep, rich version of It’s true, on which the double basses heightened the song’s dramatic potential tenfold, as well as Grow Into Love and Then Again adorned with overlapping violins, between pizzicatos and legatos that filled the airs.

The awaited Full Circle kicked off with Serge Desgagnés’ expertly executed percussion, and was the perfect song to highlight this angle of the orchestral arrangement, quickly progressing to one of the evening’s most masterful orchestrations. Call me in the afternoon, warmly welcomed by the audience, stood out for its electrifying guitar duet at the front of the stage. This was followed by I can’t figure out what’s going on and She wants to know you can let go, opening with a Tchaikovsky-like introduction of flutes and oboes, quickly accompanied by the other winds. The encore, Sun leads me on , ended the evening magnificently, starting with Devon, Conner and Dylan going up to find the leader on the central platform to deliver the last song in chorus, around the same microphone. They were gradually joined by the singers, flutes, oboes and clarinets for a final crescendo that left us with heads full of music.Tout au long du spectacle, les arrangements sensibles de Blair Thompson se sont illustrés en sachant délicatement faire briller les points forts des compositions d’Half Moon Run. Un spectacle senti, bien calculé et extraordinairement bien exécuté, conduit de main de maître par Adam Johnson. Si vous n’y étiez pas, vous avez manqué un MOMENT.

Photo Credit : Antoine Saito

Balkan music / Choral Music

Enchanting choral Croatia at the Centre des musiciens du monde

by Frédéric Cardin

I’ve been a regular at the Centre des musiciens du monde’s (CMM) Intimate Concerts series since the very first one last January. They’ve all been excellent, each time featuring top-quality artists who’ve settled in Montreal for its cultural vitality and, in the process, enriched it in an exceptional way, thanks to the traditional and refined sounds from Rwanda, Syria, Mongolia, Iran, Peru and so on. While I’m fairly familiar with all the artists featured (and to be featured) in the series so far, one exception was on stage last night: the vocal ensemble Sava, whose existence I didn’t even know about until quite recently. I was so taken with them that I had to tell you about it.

Sava is an all-female vocal quartet devoted to traditional Balkan polyphonic songs. For this concert, Sava covered some of the repertoire specifically from Croatia, with secular and religious songs. This performance, behind the altar of the Church of Saint-Enfant Jésus (in a very intimate setting), totally bowled me over. This was due not only to the surprise effect, but also to the exceptional vocal quality of the four performers, Antonia Branković, Dina Cindrić, Sara Rousseau and Sarah Albu (the latter also one of the most exciting recent voices in contemporary and avant-garde music in the city). In the perfect acoustics of the venue, the seductive rubbing of thirds, fourths and fifths of the four voices produced a soothing vibratory effect on the audience gathered, and on your humble reviewer, who was transported back in time and space, to an ancient and perfectly authentic Dalmatia.

I don’t know how often the ladies perform in concert, but they’d better go at it! And if you’re ever interested, you should know that the ensemble is a product of all kinds of music courses available at the CMM!

MUSIC SCHOOL OF THE CENTRE DES MUSICIENS DU MONDE

Alternative / Post-Punk / Shoegaze

Hitting a Fever Pitch at the Ribbon Skirt LP Launch

by Lyle Hendriks

Fog haze, red lights, and glitchy protections bathe the lunchroom-esque atmosphere of La Toscadura in the moments before Ribbon Skirt’s launch of their new album, Bite Down (2025, Mint Records).

Up first is Taupe, a dreamy math-gaze group that feels like a spring day in sonic form. Andrew Miller’s guitar lines quietly, diligently meander through each arrangement. Soft vocal harmonies from Heather Ogilvie and Jess Barry cushion our fall from each unpredictable change, a cool blue tapestry of stunning resonance driven along by the deep connection between Barry’s bass and Evan Magoni’s drums. It’s a relaxed, inviting, yet melancholic set, drawing us into an immersive bath of orbiting melodies and gentle resolutions.

What comes after is an extreme tone shift as Heaven for Real takes the stage. This Halifax/Toronto amphetamine rock outfit is all knees and elbows, each disparate bit jutting out at odd (and sometimes distressing) angles, a relentlessly rattling train car that threatens to fall apart altogether at any moment. Horseshoe theory applies here—each member has evidently become so skilled at this abstract form of psych-post-prog-punk that it almost sounds like they don’t know what they’re doing. Guttural guitar and larger-than-life bass from twin songwriters Mark and J. Scott Grundy rush at each other in a game of chicken, flying alongside incredible breakneck beats from guest drummer Eli Kaufman. When these three hit a chord or a moment together, it’s like a beautiful, impossible accident—never going where you expect, but always landing with momentum and perfect clarity.

Finally, it’s time for the main event. Montreal veterans Ribbon Skirt (formerly known as Love Language) pull up to the stage as an ominous track drones overhead. The band appears first, including guitarist Billy Riley in a wizard cloak. Only when the moment is right does lead singer and songwriter Tashiina Buswa take the stage, a dramatic entrance worthy of this pivotal moment in Ribbon Skirt’s sudden ascension. What follows is an intense, no-holds-barred performance of just about every song from the LP (plus some new music). Like a volcano finally blowing its top clean off, Ribbon Skirt blacks out the sky and rains futuristic hellfire through jagged chords, haunting melodies, and an alluring, dangerous edge to every single moment. Buswa is a natural in this pop-star lead role, strutting across the stage with bulletproof confidence and a commanding presence.

Despite her ironclad performance, Buswa hasn’t let the incredible hype (including reviews from Pitchfork and Nardwuar) get to her head. She somehow exudes gratitude and humility while also delivering her songs with fearsome conviction, welcoming friends to the stage, pressing her head against her bandmates in a visceral embrace mid-track, looking across the packed, hot room with a smile of disbelief on her face. She addresses us about halfway through, shocked at how many have come out for this moment—a moment that, I believe, she’ll look back on as the instant that everything changed. Despite the incredible entropy behind Bite Down, its architect doesn’t seem to see herself as Ribbon Skirt’s central force. The spirit of this group remains deeply collaborative and connected, a true four-piece rather than Buswa and her band, even as they rapidly ascend to a new level of eminence and success.

My only complaint of this entire evening was with the sound. All three sets, from the quiet tones of Taupe to the most raucous moments of Ribbon Skirt, were plagued by incessant bursts of painful, screeching feedback, which only seemed to get worse as the night went on. It reached a literal fever pitch as Ribbon Skirt took their encore, with Buswa jumping in front of the stage’s apron for what ultimately became about a minute of uninterrupted, agonizing feedback from every speaker in the house. And despite this, the crowd reached a frenzy, dancing and writhing with purpose and passion—even military-grade sonic warfare wasn’t enough to deter the incredible appeal of Ribbon Skirt’s new form.

Modern Classical

OCM: Bernstein and his “Side stories” in the spotlight

by Frédéric Cardin

The Orchestre classique de Montréal (OCM) gave a benefit concert under the auspices of the music of Leonard Bernstein, on Saturday, May 3, 2025. The concert featured soprano Sharon Azrieli, mezzo Julie Nesrallah, baritone James Westman and the orchestra’s concertmaster, Mark Djokic. The money raised will be used to provide access to classical concerts for newcomers, seniors in care and other groups who do not enjoy the same opportunities as the general population.

Audacity? Artistic integrity? Austere works, in the Bernstein pantheon, dominated the evening (Arias and Barcarolles, and the Serenade (after Plato’s Symposium)). Barely two excerpts from West Side Story (the Mambo and Somewhere, placed at either end of the concert) and an aria from Candide, not even the one we’re used to (Glitter and be gay) but rather I am so easily assimilated, which also fully deserves to be heard. There was finally A Simple Song, from Mass.

If Candide was successful, with soprano Sharon Azrieli in teasing form, the Mambo suffered from rhythmic imbalances (a mortal sin in this kind of music), and Somewhere was no more than okay, with the three vocal soloists and the orchestra. Having said that, I’m happy to say that the central corpus of the concert was extremely successful, even splendid.

Arias and Barcarolles is Bernstein’s last major work (1988, a year before his death). It is a cycle of nine songs that form a narratively coherent whole, like a mini-opera, for mezzo-soprano, baritone and orchestra. In less than thirty minutes, it evokes the ups and downs of a couple’s life, from beginnings to old age, with reflections on love, life and more. The tightly-packed songwriting still allows a wide range of musical styles to shine through, including jazz, blues and modern atonalism. Unlike Mass, however, there are no head-on collisions, or even disgracious juxtapositions, between these genres. Rather, a great maturity in the organization of oppositions and eclecticism. A work that deserves to be heard much more widely.

The soloists, Nesrallah and Westman, were in very good form, especially the mezzo, whose authenticity and accuracy on stage (and within the limits of what the situation would allow) were striking. I’d never seen this lady, also a famous CBC host, on stage before. I’d like to see her again in a truly operatic setting. The orchestral score is, it must be said, formidable. The ensemble cover is stripped bare, each and everyone must fend for him-herself and cannot ‘’hide’’, rhythms intertwine, notes spurt out with skin-tight precision, and everything must be conducted with impeccable dexterity and technical firmness. Discreet but reliable conductor Mélanie Léonard and her musicians rose to the challenge.

The other big piece was the Serenade, a violin concerto that doesn’t say its name. Although better known than its predecessor, this work remains relatively demanding for a general public who know the American maestro for his musicals and his memorable conducting of great symphonic masterpieces.

The orchestra’s concertmaster, Mark Djokic, gave a remarkable performance, with a luminous, sparkling timbre and a very convincing emotional embodiment. For a “small” orchestra like the OCM, the presence of a soloist of Djokic’s calibre is a real treat. Once again, the orchestra, which Bernstein doesn’t often let rest, rose to the occasion, under the convincing baton of Ms. Léonard.

Your humble servant didn’t have access to the cocktails and small sandwiches that probably came with the more expensive (and more mission-critical) tickets, but we can rest assured that ladies and gentlemen Nesrallah, Westman, Djokic and Léonard (and all the other musicians) must have received well-deserved accolades when they arrived among the guests after the concert (notwithstanding the few downsides mentioned at the start of this article).

chanson keb franco / Indie Pop / krautpop / Krautrock / Synth-Pop

Abracadabra! Klô Pelgag is Back

by Alain Brunet

The curtain rises on this Thursday evening at MTelus, a few minutes after the powerful punk-prog discharge of the Angine de poitrine duo, just the thing for atrial fibrillation. In the chiaroscuro of special occasions, keyboards are pushed towards the stage. Then percussion, then more cossins. When the lutherie and its users are well in place… abracadabra!

She appears at center stage, a strange creature masked in white, wearing an oversized parka at the top of the central staircase. She extends her limbs to the thunderous applause of the crowd. Underneath the parka is a crazy cosmonaut costume. Under the costume, we discover Klô Pelgag.

This set-up is the opportunity to play the instrumental Le sang des fruits rouges, initiated by a drone decorated with avian flutes, high-pitched and fluttering notes, on the verge of annoyance.

It really kicks off with Pythagore, chanted like a synth-pop anthem garnished with keyboards, wrapped in heartfelt vocals, cheered on by the fans.

Pelgag follows up with Coupable, part chamber pop, part dream pop. On the final track of this tale of a friendship conflict that weighs heavily on the story’s narrator, the singer rehearses her chorus, including a high-frequency “je n’ai pas dormi”, before striding back up the stage stairs with some heartfelt incantations.

The Quebec star then takes a love bath, enjoys minutes of acclaim and addresses her audience before claiming to wear a very large jacket, because she’s become a professional over the years. Needless to say, this absurdist humor suits the artist well, and she’s been making good use of it since her debut.

Here we are À l’ombre des cyprès… parfum de muguet…. ideal funeral in prospect, says the song as 5 white T-shirts jump around the stage with their instruments in front – keyboards, synths, percussion, bass, guitar. Fans know the song by heart, and a huge monodic chorus accompanies the soloist in full possession of her powers.

“Someone bring me a song from beyond the grave, and let’s make it jump!” she commands, before performing Les instants d’équilibre… a reminder of a past that we enter only to leave again, a past that we guess is unbalanced, unbridled to say the least, fiery, ardent.

A little Afro-Caribbean beat follows, and the balloon jacket is back and applauded for Lettre à un jeune poète, a motherly song bathed in sincere concern and benevolence.

The musician settles in at the keyboard, proposing a love song “to remedy the lack of love” from which the world is currently suffering: it’s Sans visage, the evocation of a journey for two, the proximity being such that one would recognize the other without a face. A pretty ballad with a slow, steady tempo, topped by space-pop keyboards and celestial vocals.

We tune in, and soon there will be flute sounds, played staccato. The keyboard imitates the piano and we recognize Le goût des mangues, a chamber pop evoking the return of mild temperatures.

Klô Pelgag draws on her recent opus, Abracadabra, before which she says she was “well into anxiety”, i.e. inspired to write this song served up this time in piano-vocal formula, proud to use this keyboard model she had gotten rid of before buying it back.” Keep your old things and store them with your parents!” As she sings this work oscillating between the hope and dismay produced by the current situation, we understand that Les puits de lumière “lets the rain in”.

A huge red square overhangs the stage, Jim Morrison is a wandering, a dream where we pass through paintings whose meaning we seek, where we’d like to “hold what we touch with our fingertips.”

Fever Ray could well have composed the quasi-electro song that follows: Décembre has paroxysmal moments, performed with fervor in front of the huge square backdrop, this time black, around which pink and blue waltz. Back at the top of the central staircase, Klô Pelgag lets her hair down. The intensity just went up a few notches,

The black square as a backdrop is now delineated by multicolored lines, and a funky rhythm settles in. It’s Deux jours et deux nuits, electro-pop for excited night owls, two days and two nights of dancing on the beach, following the path traced by seashells.

The party really gets going in this sold-out Mtelus. Clearly, the drama had been carefully planned, and the hot crowd welcomed Mélamine as they faded in to a well-mastered krautrock.

The crowd has reached a pinnacle of excitement, and the song Umami “comes from the heart”, where we “spend our nights thinking about the day”. Cheerful groove, cheerful indie-pop, here’s a Klô Pelgag classic and re-krautrock with Rémora.

Long thanks, introduction of colleagues, and a long conclusion spread over three encores. Les animaux, Les ferrofluides-fleurs, Comme des rames and… abracadabra we left, delighted, satiated with this Klô Pelgag crossing a vast creative plateau.

PROGRAM :

Le sang des fruits rouges

Pythagore

Libre

Coupable

À l’ombre des cyprès

Les instants d’équilibre

Lettre à une jeune poète

Sans visage

Le goût des mangues

Les puits de lumière

Jim Morrison

Décembre

Deux jours et deux nuits

Mélamine

Umami

La maison jaune

Rémora

Rappels

Les animaux

Les ferrofluides-fleurs

Comme des rames

Photo Credit: Marc-Étienne Mongrain

Art Pop / cosmic jazz / Jazz Fusion / Yacht Rock

Syncopation & Synergy: Karneef’s jazz fusion meshes with Rapallo’s corporate yacht pop

by Stephan Boissonneault

This week, courtesy of locals Karneef and Rapallo, La Sala Rossa hosted a night of eclectic cosmic jazz fusion and yachty experimental business pop, doubling as the album release of Karneef’s wacky jazz fusion LP, It’s How You Say It.

Mergers & Bangers: Rapallo’s market moves

The night began with Rapallo taking the stage, jumping into the beachy disco-funk of “Daryll’s on the News,” and then transitioning into their more business-time-style songs from their debut LP, Merger. You see, Rapallo doesn’t just play their songs—they pitch them, and everyone in the crowd is a would-be shareholder or flush swinger looking to get down. The playful dueling vocals and absurdist stories between guitarist Nick Lanyon and the mesmerizing Kyla Jolene feel a bit like Kenny Loggins dueting with Olivia Newton-John, and the whole slacker business pitch really works for the live show. But it’s more like being on a cruise with nonchalant CEOs and drinking too many Mai Tais than a full-on Q4 meeting. “The Alkalite” might be one of the catchiest songs I’ve heard live in a while, and live, it’s a wonderful fever dream. Lanyon’s lead guitar on the track “The Cage” is absolutely disgusting and hypnotic—the man can shred like Steve Vai and brush it off like nothing.

Rapallo’s vibe is all about the poppy hook to get you moving, with amazing lyrics like “Don’t call it a fantasy / You just live in it / All of the ivory in the key of C,” from “Lion’s Share.” A song like “V.I.P.” is a synth-heavy anthem with a fantastic ’80s key-man solo by Isaac Maynes—sounds like Tears for Fears if they were stuck in a WeWork. And “Breathing Underwater” is very Supertramp-coded. Rapallo’s music is pure corporate metaphor: love as mergers and hostile takeovers, vulnerability as a depreciating asset. The contrast couldn’t have been more perfect: Rapallo demanding we invest, and Karneef demanding we feel.

Liquidity in 11/8 Time: Karneef’s It’s How You Say It, in beautiful freefall

Jazz has always had somewhat of a resurgence, and within the last 15 or so years, artists like Thundercat, BADBADNOTGOOD, and Snarky Puppy have been leading the charge into the mainstream. But with his live show and album It’s How You Say It, Karneef should be added to that list.

As Karneef stepped onto the stage with his six-piece jazz band, the lights dimmed and a warm, jazzified breeze drifted in. The music was smooth, chaotic, and deeply committed to emotional communication. Saxophone, keyboard, bass, hazy guitar work, and a syncopated whirlwind of drums swirled around in polyrhythmic negotiations. Karneef is the mad vocal orchestrator of this wild group of too-talented musicians—breaking out into passionate, soulful growls and shaking his head in disbelief at the raw talent of his band: Rodolfo Rueda on bass, Max Lazich on drums, Ryan Nadin on guitar, Teddy Kadonoff on backing vocals and bass trombone, Cedric de Saint-Rome aka Housefly on keyboards, and Evan Shay on saxophones.

Their set felt intergalactic, like the band had tapped into a transmission from a parallel universe where fusion is the dominant energy source and feelings are traded like rare minerals. Karneef, equal parts wizard, preacher, and jazz court jester, steered the chaos like a man possessed by melody itself. His voice ricocheted between guttural chants and falsetto pleas, especially during “If Only You Could See Your Face Right Now,” which gave me huge Awaken, My Love! by Childish Gambino vibes. The drums by Lazich were astonishing. You know a jazz drummer is too good when you phase out and start questioning whether your hands are even correctly attached to your body. Lazich must have been raised in a metronome factory.

Karneef’s style of jazz fusion is constantly breezing on a sonic tightrope; just confusing enough for the true jazz heads, and just accessible enough for people looking to groove. A song like “Insides Match the Outside” will lay down a steady groove, abandon it like a bad lease, and then move into a polyrhythmic fire escape of invention. And then you have the wacky stage presence of Karneef—jumping around the stage like a whimsical jester and conductor, grounding the audience for moments of humble reprieve. Honestly, we are probably still recovering.

Avant-Garde / Contemporary

Le Vivier: many skills, few surprises

by Frédéric Cardin

I’d like to tell you right away that I had a wonderful evening, despite some flaws I’m about to add to the appreciation of last night’s concert. The evening, entitled Aptitudes matérielles (Material Skills), was an encounter between the contemporary creative scenes of New York and Montreal, presented at the Espace Bleu du Wilder, in Montreal’s Quartier des Spectacles, under the umbrella of Le Vivier, an indispensable musical catalyst on the Montreal scene.

New York’s Hypercube ensemble, an unusual quartet comprising piano, saxophone, electric guitar and percussion, crossed sonic paths with three Montreal artists, Antonin Bourgault, Antoine Goudreau and Corie Rose Soumah. Only Bourgault actually joined the New Yorkers with his saxophone. For the others, the relationship took shape solely as composers.

I’ll take several things away from this experience: the excellence of the Hypercube performers, a tightly-knit group that shows deeply intimate mutual listening and displays impressive technical quality. I also note that the musical avant-garde has come a long way in the last 50, even 75 years. We’ve reached the point where we can enjoy a concert of this kind, savoring the interpretative excellence displayed and the plastic beauty of the sounds generated on stage, without really being surprised by the proposal. Indeed, this was the feeling that assailed me during the concert: I’ve heard it all before. For in the narrative abstractions suggested, the numerous timbral projections, textural contrasts and sonic outbursts, nothing truly revolutionary, or even intriguing, emerged. Beautiful and plastically impeccable, but not surprising or off the beaten track.

That said, as mentioned, yours truly enjoyed the evening, as the music on offer was intelligent, informed by the best of musical knowhow and conceived in a clear spirit of aesthetic and sensory communication.

First and foremost, the acousmatic portions of the scores were beautifully spatialized, with an effective octophony (if I’m not mistaken) that succeeded in plunging the audience into the center of pleasant synthetic outbursts. Musically, I’d sum up by saying that Soumah and Goudreau are the best at taking advantage of the coloristic possibilities of the Hypercube ensemble, integrating them into effective dramatic constructions, discursively fragmented but comprehensible. Corie Rose Soumah is one of the most interesting emerging voices in scholarly music, and her Soundcloud page should be a priority listen, if you’re really interested in contemporary stuff. The Montrealer is based in New York, so her close relationship with the band.

Corie Rose Soumah Soundcloud page

Hypercube’s saxophonist, Canadian Erin Rogers, has offered Mirror to Fire, a piece derived from a Nine Inch Nails song (The Lovers, from the album Add Violence). Mirror to Fire has become a kind of study in the musical possibilities of separating the harmonic and rhythmic pillars of a “popular” work, and is the easiest score in terms of discursive path that could be heard in the concert. All the works on the program were world premieres (except for one of Soumah’s pieces, a Canadian premiere ‘’only’’).

Classic avant-garde, drawing as much on Stockhausen as 1970s free jazz and acousmatic music, with no particular astonishment but undeniably seductive artistry.

Art Rock / Experimental Rock / Garage Rock / Gospel / Gothic / Post-Punk / Rock

Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds hold ceremonial court at Place Bell

by Stephan Boissonneault

At an age when most rock frontmen either fade into dad-band obscurity or find themselves on awkward “farewell” tours sponsored by insurance companies that go on forever, Nick Cave has somehow grown even more mythic — part preacher, part lounge lizard, part ghost. Last week at Place Bell, he and the Bad Seeds put on a masterclass in controlled chaos, proving that while the world around them gets cheaper and dumber, their particular brand of menace remains stubborn and gorgeously intact.

The setlist was a tightrope walk between the old gods and the new. They wasted no time, as Cave, looking like a slick mafioso, plunged straight into “Frogs” — a synthy theatric gut-punch opener that immediately separated the tourists from the true believers. As Cave crooned “Kill Me, Kill Me, in the Sunday Raiiiiinnn,” I was immediately enraptured. From there, Nick Cave stalked the stage like a man who summons plagues with a finger-snap, pulling the crowd in to “Wild God,” and “Song Of The Lake.” These new songs from Wild God already felt like classics in Cave’s hands, stitched seamlessly into the old blood-soaked fabric. Somehow, Wild God isn’t a midlife crisis; but an artist in full control of their nightmare machine.

From there, we got “From Her to Eternity”—probably the closest I’ll ever get to The Birthday Party live, and the swampy gothic horror of “Tupelo.” Every scream, every whispered threat, was perfectly calibrated, yet never once felt mechanical. Cave and Warren Ellis (who made the violin his slave) were already drenched in sweat three songs in. Still, Cave gave the fans what they wanted, constantly shaking their hands mid-song or being held up by them.

Special mention must go to the Bad Seeds themselves — a band so tight they could probably perform sonic brain surgery blindfolded if asked. The gospel backing vocals matching Cave’s are spectacular, and Warren Ellis, shaggy and unhinged as ever, played every instrument that wasn’t bolted down, sometimes two at once. Larry Mullins pounded the drums with the kind of grim determination usually reserved for medieval executioners. The Bad Seeds made chaos sound rehearsed, and perfection sound like an accident. We of course got “Red Right Hand,” which is way more sinister live than recording, but my stand out has to be “The Mercy Seat,” from Tender Prey. That song is absolutely haunting live, and has this deranged energy that will be one of my forever concert highlights.

The encore was pure emotional warfare: “Papa Won’t Leave You, Henry” bellowed into “The Weeping Song” and then slid into the devastating hush of “Skeleton Tree.” Was it fun? Sure, in a funeral procession sort of way. Was it brilliant? Obviously. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds don’t play “shows” anymore — they hold ceremonies, and if you’re lucky enough to attend, you leave a little less whole than when you first arrived.

Photos by Patrick Beaudry, evenko

Classical / Classical Period

OSM | A Morning of Lightness

by Alexis Desrosiers-Michaud

Less than twelve hours after performing a concert version of Mozart’s opera Cosi fan tutte as part of the festival of the same name, the Orchestre Symphonique de Montréal (OSM) and Rafael Payare presented two of the composer’s last works: Piano Concerto No. 27, with Kevin Chen as soloist, and Symphony No. 41, known as the “Jupiter” Symphony.

From the very first movement of the Concerto, we sense that everything will be in finesse, even before the soloist enters. At this point, our impression is confirmed; the fingers almost float over the keyboard. A real dialogue is established between Chen and the orchestra, with whom he constantly makes eye contact. The second movement is a gentle delight that takes us elsewhere, into a plaintive, restful, almost meditative world. This excerpt, full of emotion where the notes held never die, would certainly have been the subject of a replay on a digital application.

The “Jupiter” symphony that follows follows in the same vein as the Concerto, i.e., everything is lively, lilting, rhythmic, but light-hearted. All the more so since “one of the themes of the first movement is a bass aria written for an opera by Anfossi”. There’s something lyrical about this first movement.

The third movement could have been more dance-like, in keeping with the minuet tradition. Marked Menuetto : Allegretto, it tended more towards the second part of its surtitle, with a little more gallantry than usual.

The exclamation point of this symphony is undoubtedly the final movement. Indeed, Mozart’s final symphonic page is a jewel of contrapuntal writing, with no fewer than 5 (!) themes continuing uninterruptedly. It’s a compositional tour de force, but also a challenge for the conductor, who has to balance the sound so that the whole doesn’t become a jumble, which Payare succeeds in doing brilliantly. Constantly on his toes, he keeps everything under control. He even does the long reprise, like Labadie and Nagano’s previous versions, but which is not fashionable on disc. The timpani, hidden on the right, punctuates the phrases and ends of the sections, and provides the energy for the various climaxes. A quick note to say that the concert opened with pianist Chen’s solo performance of the Fantasy in C minor K. 475. This sombre but beautiful piece had more the air of a salon piece. Not because of the interpretation, quite the contrary, but because of the slight uproar caused by the admission to the hall of the dozens of latecomers who had arrived by bus for this school morning. No doubt listening to the same concert in the evening would have been different. But there was something beautiful about seeing and hearing the OSM’s “regulars” repeatedly questioning and taking an interest in these young people from all over, some wearing a piece of clothing bearing the effigy of their music program.

Photo Credit: Antoine Saito

Contemporary Jazz / Electroacoustic / Électronique / Experimental / Contemporary / Instrumental Hip Hop

African American Sound Recordings at SAT : Noise Floor

by Loic Minty

In a world of untraceable movements, this liquid form of music is barely contained by the term “experimental.” A post hip hop posts it exists only here and now, where hip hop has become more what is felt than what is heard.

And yet it is still everything that has made it, only noisier and further away, like a signal passing through old wires. African American Sound Recordings seems to look from above at this infinite network and finds the subtle voices, like Morpheus looking through the matrix for the human heart. “Where is that noise coming from?” After 20 minutes you start forgetting, after 30 minutes it has sucked you in, and after 45 minutes you are now a part of it.

Dismantling all expectations, A.A.S.R. sculpted a form beyond music, an anthropology to black culture: from punk, to 70’s soul, to a saxophone screeching like it was cursed by the Pharoah himself. There is an authenticity and an originality in his approach that seems to have been the common thread of this evening.

Slow Pitch Sound’s turntablist approach sent the crowd into a twilight zone. Mixing like he was on a cosmic trip with Lee Scratch Perry in Studio One, his chop and screw approach reminisced of classic scratching acts such as DJ Screw, while at the same time completely renewing it in his choice of samples. Finding loops in accidental sounds, Slow Pitch Sound crafted his rhythms on the spot and had the crowd hanging on his every move. The forgotten art of turntabling showed its untapped potential as an instrument and, combined with digital tools, built a warm and distinct sound made into art by the graceful mastery of his tools.

But the most unexpected surprise of the night was Dumb Chamber’s debut performance, as he showed Montreal the shape of electronic music to come. Always bringing you somewhere new, the dense patchwork of sequences teased rhythm and built up in swells of emotive orchestrations. Somewhere between Luc Ferrari, Dean Blunt, and Oneohtrix Point Never’s “Replica”, his sound was distinguished by a soothing mix of field recordings and sensitive melodies borrowing from classical orchestration.

Dumb Chamber had a big smile on his face as he effortlessly moved between genres; even his twist at classic house held a distinctive style, as noises uttered counter-rhythms in the background. The crowd, which could have been a Ssense staff party, may not have been as warmed up for dancing, but there was the feeling of deep listening and appreciation for the passionately researched sound experiments we were witnessing.

It was one of those experiences where you walk out not quite feeling the same as you walked in. Maybe it was the wall of low frequencies that got into your bones, maybe it was from sitting on the cold concrete, but it felt like a new space opened in imagining music as a performance that I look forward to exploring.

Sylis d’or 2025 Final: Salsa Ahead of Afro-Colombian Roots and Réunionese Maloya

by Frédéric Cardin

The final evening of the Sylis d’or 2025, held last night at the Fairmount Theatre, lived up to its promise of exhilarating ambience, festive rhythms and sunny music. The three bands in attendance – Raiz Viva, Kozé and Marzos & Mateo – delivered solid performances, but with finishing touches that made all the difference.

Marzos & Mateo’s fiery salsa took the gold Syli honors, while Raiz Viva’s exhilarating roots took second place for silver, with Kozé’s Reunion maloya taking bronze.

Kozé’s uneven performance explains this third-place finish, despite a vibrant incarnation on stage of the singer and dancer who leads the charge in a Maloya style originating on Reunion Island, colored by traditional songs accompanied by percussion. While the entrance to the stage was beautiful and the finale exciting, a central episode with approximate tonalities on the part of the backing singers probably harmed the group for good. A fine-tuning that remains to be done, but the collective still has some fine moments to offer future festival-goers who will be hearing them across Quebec and Canada.

For my money, it was Raiz Viva who offered the evening’s finest combination of surprise, energy and originality. An intense, sustained thirty-minute performance, based on a rhizomic cumbia from Colombia that dares to touch on some soil close to Brazil, but also to the country adopted by the members of the group, Quebec. There’s no electrification in this hyper-efficient proposition, just traditional flutes and a heap of percussion, but a stunning sense of rhythm and a full, voluptuous occupation of sonic space, backed by catchy melodies. Superb music from which emanates a convincing authenticity. I’d like to hear this band in full concert as soon as possible. And you too.

It was to be expected that the Marzos supergroup with soloist, guitarist and singer Mateo would hit hard. 14 people on stage, if I counted correctly, with a double ration of trumpets and trombones, a powerful baritone sax, a keyboard, backing singers, a singer (excellent) in addition to the star Mateo and a bunch of percussion, that’s enough to impress. Salsa that’s fairly predictable in its deployment, but certainly packs a punch. The atmosphere was explosive, as always in the finals (and semi-finals too) of the annual Sylis.

Modern Classical / Modern Jazz / période romantique

Soir de jazz symphonique à Laval

by Alain Brunet

À travers leur vies professionnelles qu’on devine intenses, les saxophonistes Yannick Rieu et Lionel Belmondo ont mis deux ans à mettre ce programme au point : un jazz symphonique construit, aménagé et reformulé autour des compositeurs Johannes Brahms, Maurice Ravel et Lili Boulanger, soit la fin du 19^e siècle et le début du 20^eau service du jazz moderne. Malgré la tenue du débat des chefs et le match décisif du CH pour accéder aux éliminatoires de la LNH, une salle André-Mathieu bien garnie a chaudement accueilli l’exécution de ce programme.

La première intervention au programme est baignée de ces harmonies romantiques exécutées sur un mouvement lent et des notes graves. Les trois souffleurs de jazz se fondent dans l’Orchestre symphonique de Laval sous la direction de Daniel Bartholomew-Poyser. Jazzmen et interprètes classiques se fondent dans la partition, aucune improvisation n’est ici prévue.

La section rythmique sextette s’amène pour une relecture orchestrale du Nocturne de Lili Boulanger, sœur cadette de la grande pédagogue parisienne Nadia Boulanger, soeurette dont les musiques sont de plus en plus jouées, un siècle après sa disparition tragique et prématurée: Louis-Vincent Hamel, batterie, Rémi-Jean LeBlanc, contrebasse, Jonathan Cahier, piano. Le menuet en do mineur de Ravel est parfaitement propice à la jazzification. On observe déjà les croisements entre le Français Maurice Ravel et l’Américain George Gershwin, dont se sont nourris les plus grands penseurs du jazz moderne,de Bill Evans à Duke Ellington.

Cette fois, le sextette s’impose au sein de l’OSL et impose cet équilibre entre jazz moderne et musique classique moderne. Les French, très solide trompettiste australien transplanté à Montréal, prend le premier solo, suivi du pianiste Jonathan Cayer, devenu l’un des très bons jazzmen de la période actuelle sur le territoire québécois. Les deux saxophones et la trompette sont entrelardés dans certains thèmes, familiers et agréables à l’écoute.

Composé pour le piano seul, ce Menuet en ut dièse mineur de Maurice Ravel a été orchestré et arrangé par Lionel Belmondo pour orchestre symphonique et sextette de jazz. Le thème principal met en relief le saxophone soprano de Belmondo complété par les bois de l’orchestre, suivi du saxo ténor de Rieu.

Inspirée du premier mouvement de la Symphonie No 4 de Brahms, cette pièce de Yannick Rieu implique l’improvisation des vents dont les lignes mélodiques ajoutent un contrepoint supplémentaire à la progression harmonique prévue pour l’orchestre. Il est alors intéressant de noter l’unification heureuse des deux esthétiques, cette fois dominée par le romantisme brahmsien.

S’ensuit Nostalgie, une pièce de Yannick Rieu dont il est le soliste principal aux côtés de Rémi-Jean LeBlanc, mais la partie jazz de l’œuvre demeure très jazz, l’orchestre se transforme alors en faste accompagnateur et rappelle les arrangements et orchestrations typiques des grands orchestres américains au milieu du 20^e siècle.

Un riff de contrebasse introduit l’orchestre, le piano et les autres solistes du sextette. Le piano mature et assuré de Jonathan Cayer et le sax soprano de Rieu sont ici mis de l’avant. Les somptueuses harmonies sont tellement propices au jazz moderne qu’on en oublie les fondements originels. Il faut toujours rappeler que les jazzophiles ont intégré les musiques romantiques ou classiques modernes sans nécessairement en connaître précisément le répertoire, en voilà une autre éloquente démonstration intitulée Ritournelle.

La suivante,Ballade sur le nom de Maurice Ravel , a été composée par Yannick et arrangée par Lionel, cette œuvre relativement courte est introduite par les cordes ravéliennes de l’OSL qui précèdent le thème exposé par le sextette. La nappe est dressée pour un riche exercice harmonique à l’échelle symphonique, l’excellent trompettiste Lex French y est mis en valeur pour une improvisation fervente qui en coiffe la conclusion.

Un solo de batterie bien senti de Louis-Vincent Hamel, et puis c’est parti dans un swing soigneusement enrobé par l’orchestre symphonique. Pour Pharaon de Yannick Rieu, des accords de piano précèdent le thème exposé à troix voix, on se trouve dans un romantisme luxuriant, et le piano s’élance sur un groove lent et ternaire avant de donner la réplique à l’orchestre symphonique et ses collègues du sextette pour conclure aux côtés des saxes, cuivres et compléments orchestraux.

Inspirée des Jeux d’eau de Maurice Ravel, La Couleur de l’eau est l’occasion pour Lionel Belmondo de fusionner le discours ravélien avec un jazz moderne typique des années 50, époque hard bop et Third Stream, s’envole alors Lex French dans un chemin dont il connaît parfaitement les balises.

On conclura ce programme ambitieux avec Embrahms-moi de Yannick Rieu, une pièce qui ne fut pas sans difficultés côté arrangement, dixit Lionel Belmondo. Le piano s’exécute d’abord et puis le romantisme brahmsien, donc pré-moderne et tellement repris dans les trames cinématographiques hollywoodiennes, se fond dans le discours de Yannick Rieu dont le thème au saxophone est purement romantique.Solidement ficelé tout ça, au plus grand plaisir des mélomanes.