Concert review

Contemporary / Indian Classical

Opér’actuel 2026: Akasha, masala opera

by Frédéric Cardin

At this moment, the first edition of Opér’actuel is taking place, in its biennial festival format. Faithful to the vision carried by the artistic director Marie-Annick Béliveau (READ THE INTERVIEW WITH HER ABOUT THE FESTIVAL), the first event invited the public to an intercultural meeting between spiritual India and artistic West.

Akasha, the Breath of the Universe is a production by soprano Kripa Nageshwar and her company Hamsa Lyric Creations, based in Longueuil, Québec. A chamber ensemble composed of a piano, a clarinet, a Carnatic violin (from South Indian tradition), a sarod, and a santoor accompanies the soprano who sings and recites Indian poems (by Tagore, among others) set to music by Colin Eatock, and lyrical pieces inspired by Indian culture. Among these, an excerpt from Bizet’s The Pearl Fishers (O God Brahma), Poèmes hindous and Ragamalika by Maurice Delage, and an excerpt from a “Messiah” composed by the Canadian Amirthan Sothivannan.

INFOS AND TICKETS FOR OPÉR’ACTUEL FESTIVAL 2026

Eatock’s music acts as a binding agent between all these pieces which, with the exception of Bizet, blend quite well into the soft modern tonal language, tinged with echoes of Indian classical music. The musical result evokes something Britten could have produced if he had had a South Asian fibre. It is therefore quite accessible, and the arrangements for the small chamber orchestra with unusual combinations work well. They especially manage to avoid the impression of a somewhat cheesy New Age exoticism that often ends up colouring Western projects, especially those aimed at the general public, which wish to delve into Indian spirituality.

For Akasha is primarily a portrait of one of the fundamental aspects of Hindu religion. “Akasha” (in Sanskrit) refers to the ether or space element which, in South Asian culture, is associated with the fifth chakra (the throat), from which the voice emerges. It is also the primordial field from which all creation emerges and the invisible force that connects all beings.

It is a space where the souls of the deceased pass through on their journey towards the ultimate connection with the Universal Whole. In the cycle of births and rebirths, the soul that has not achieved sufficient detachment from superficial things passes through this space before being reborn in the earthly world, and starting the journey again. Those, rarer ones, who have reached the required level will pass through Akasha to attain universal unity and will not return.

Akasha, the opera, thus allows the audience to meet one of these souls (embodied by Kripa Nageshwar), who recounts its first emotional ecstasies in the face of the beauty of earthly life, its attractions, its joys, all the discoveries to be made. Then come the disappointments, the ups and downs of life, the anxieties. One of the quoted texts beautifully stated: joys are (too short) durations between sufferings. The journey of this soul in samsara (wandering) is expressed in Sanskrit, English, and French. 

It should be noted that what was presented last night at the Paul-Buissonneau Hall of the Calixa-Lavallée Center (in the heart of Lafontaine Park in Montreal) is only a part of the final opera that will be fully created in 2027 in Toronto. I imagine that with a more elaborate staging and sets designed for the occasion, the work will take on even more substance.

If it is true that I would have liked the musical material to be more demanding, it remains that Akasha, the Breath of the universe, is a contemporary creation full of good intentions and frankly enjoyable, which knows how to surprise without strictly resorting to experimental techniques to justify its modernity.

Contemporary / Modern Classical / période romantique

A star-studded season launch for Yannick and his OM

by Frédéric Cardin

The launch of the 26-27 season of the Orchestre métropolitain (OM) under the baton of Yannick Nézet-Séguin took place yesterday at the Maison symphonique in front of a full house. The theme was centered, mostly, around interstellar space and illustrated by the famous Planets by Gustav Holst, as well as by a creation by the Anishinaabekwe composer Barbara Assiginaak, Shpiming Nangokaa (High in the sky, there are many stars).

It was the latter that opened the afternoon (the concert was at 3 PM). The audience was treated to a resplendent work, sparkling with a thousand luminous colours, like thousands of jewels on a dark velvet cushion. The score oscillates between Ravelian sumptuousness and contemporary shimmering, in a back-and-forth between warm atonality and cinematic consonances. The crowd applauded warmly, rightly so.

A bit off-topic, but masterful in its expression and especially its interpretation, the Concerto for Viola by the Englishman William Walton followed with immense panache. A work that is rarely heard on our stages, and yet has an imperial dramatic effect! It must be said that the violist Antoine Tamestit masters this music without a hitch. A full and nuanced sound, capable of the most delicate whispers without compromising an ample projection, as well as the most athletic fortes, that don’t lose any timbral quality. This artist plays, in the holistic sense of the term: he watches the orchestra musicians, listens to them, appreciates their playing, responds to them. A true concert artist, not a soloist “with accompaniment.” That is probably the connection with the rest of the program: Tamestit is a fiery star. The man took the microphone to thank the musicians (he was right, the OM was in exceptional form) and announce an encore: an arrangement of Flow My Teares by John Dowland. The poignant melody of the Renaissance gave a few chills, especially in its delicate interpretation in a duet with the OM harpist, Robin Best. We can pleasantly imagine a full recital with these two artists. Why not?

In the finale, Holst’s Planets practically lifted the roof off the Maison symphonique. Yannick did not hesitate for a second and launched the warlike Mars on a merciless rhythm. With an OM at its best (hats off to the soloists of all the sections), the conductor then drew a Venus and a Mercury full of nuances before launching the masterful Jupiter at an exciting tempo. Thank you for not slowing down its progress, which sometimes happens with some conductors. Here, no, Yannick chose to express without hesitation the feeling of joy that underlies the character granted to the giant by Holst. The central section, with its imposing theme, had all the required nobility.

Saturn and its emphatic cadence, marking the passage of time, had the desired power and, above all, effectively expressed the inevitable nature of the march towards old age. Uranus and its driving energy (as well as the theme introduced by the bassoon, which so much reminds one of Dukas’ The Sorcerer’s Apprentice) had a lot of character, while the whole ended with the impressionism, first shadowy then evolving towards the light, of Neptune.

The audience was delighted. One can only agree with it.

Experimental / Hip Hop

FME 2026: haha Laughing, An Avant-Garde, Sluggy Surprise

by Jake Friesen

A crowd congregates around the Rouyn-Noranda automotive repair shop; I am a completely unsuspecting bystander to what I’m about to witness. haha Laughing materializes, anointed in a holy blue glow and immediately gets to work with a relentlessly energetic set. 

Sporting their signature bespeckled boxing boots, Aby Oviedo (aka BB BASCO) is a fucking force. Seamlessly transitioning between drums, saxophone, rapping, and metamorphosing into a slug. Their intense deadpan affect is balanced perfectly by co-rager-in-chief Jay Dilick. Full of conviction, Dilick’s vocal delivery is a conduit to feelings I didn’t know I had. The crowd thaws and surrenders to haha Laughing’s undeniably innovative sound. Their intoxicating sonic universe incorporates a lush mix of samples, absurd, haunting lyrics, catchy beats, live instrumentation and furious vocal delivery. The duo draws the attention of a few dudes rolling hard, who take the opportunity to join the action in front of them. haha Laughing takes it in stride, which only amplifies their audacious on-stage fuckery.

The rambunctious pair leave it all out on the court in their first FME set. Their official FME set feels like a victory lap the following night. The late-night audience is primed for these avant-garde dirtbags to tear it up. Tracks “ROACHEZ AND MOSQUITOZ” and “PULLED APART BY HORSES’”inspire joyously violent thrashing in the pit. Their irreverent sound is punctuated by gut-punch vulnerability on “LIL RALPHIE” and “LADYBUG NECKLACE.”  They’re in the pocket as they transition into an impassioned rendition of “Boom Boom Pow” by the Black Eyed Peas. Dilick cascades in and out of the crowd without missing a beat while Oviedo makes no bones about busting it down between spitting bars and ripping the sax. As I proceed to lose my marbles in the pit completely, the trust between Oviedo and Dilick is palpable as they take turns chancing it all in front of the sweaty crowd. On the bleeding edge of genre and performance, haha Laughing is a visceral monument to the beauty of risk-taking and being fucking loud.

Emo / Shoegaze

FME 2026 I An Ether Afternoon with Worry

by Lyle Hendriks

Materializing onstage like phantoms of the 2010s Tumblr age, Quebec City-based emogaze group Worry certainly looks the part. Black band tees, corsets, fishnets, and centre-parts as far as the eye can see, each member looking over the fast-filling space with a touch of gloom on their faces. At the centre, songwriter and vocalist Kerry Samuels, hunched over their mic with their bangs in their eyes. 

Bringing together the vast textures of shoegaze and the intimate specificity of emo rock, Worry has found a small part of the Venn diagram to call their own. Their grungy, slightly melodramatic sound has a knowing, nostalgic element, just enough to harken back to days of first cigarettes and American Apparel knee socks. The music remains approachable and honest, though, never overstaying its welcome on any particular influence. 

Samuels’ voice is clean, controlled, and powerful, sounding even more studio-ready when they’re joined by co-vocalist l i l a (a.k.a. Marianne Poirier). Together, they form the Platonic ideal of a shoegaze vocal, the perfect blend of whininess and sincere expression to grab onto as the expansive instrumental churns around us. 

The band is exceptionally well-rehearsed, making sure the constant barrage of jangly guitars and embodied drums doesn’t turn to mud. Half beat pauses and stutters feel effortless and inevitable. Pop-adjacent song structures mean you always know when the next heavy breakdown or climactic vocal is coming. Each track is a rollercoaster—you see what’s up ahead, but you can’t deny the fun of the ride.

Alt-Country / Country Blues / Country Rock

FME 2026 I The Sadies and the Horse They Rode In On

by Charly Blais

FME is a marathon, not a sprint, and we were coming up on the last mile. I schlepped my tired bones from the SUUNS secret show over to main stage for The Sadies sunset set. Despite my weariness, as the plucky guitar and throaty upright bass started up, I was drawn magnetically toward the front. Soon, I turned around and saw I wasn’t alone- behind me, the crowd had multiplied to seemingly include the whole population of Rouyn-Noranda. This was fitting, as the show was part of the free festivities to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the town.

The music meandered from rockabilly to surf rock to full desert saloon. Frontman Travis Good was our fearless leader, looking like an older, sadder cowboy Kramer in his Sunday best. Noting that summer is now coming to an end, he launched into “Another Season Again,” dedicated to his brother and founding member of the band, Dallas Good, who died in 2022 and wrote it about how much he hated summer.

Near the end, the Toronto band played “Ridge Runner Reel,” a maddeningly toe-tapping instrumental country romp that increasingly picks up the pace until the audience can barely keep up. This perfect end to my festival weekend, The Sadies had me riding out of Abitibi-Témiscamingue on a slow horse with one brain cell, two left feet, and three names.

Post-Rock / Shoegaze / slowcore

FME 2026 I Moiré is Slowcore for Feeble Minds

by Stephan Boissonneault

Réseaux sociaux

Let’s not sugarcoat it. I was a wreck during early Sunday evening, the last day of FME. All I needed was sleep, but there were, of course, more bands to review. I walked into the darkened room of 55 Dallaire and stumbled upon a set by Moiré, a six-piece grunge-gaze group from Malartic, Quebec. The riffs were heavy, yet subdued, full of half- and full-step guitar bends that throw you off-kilter and bass and drum fills that feel quite nebulous.

It was a little much for my feeble brain, and under other circumstances, I might have liked it. It felt reminiscent of Duster or even Have A Nice Life, but with French vocals. But by the fourth droney song, my eyes felt ridiculously heavy, and I began to sway in a half-sleep-induced coma. The vocals, various French groans or wails, also felt very droney and did nothing to break me out of my standing siesta.

The stage was shaded in a purple glow, and at times, I truly felt like I was dreaming. The vocals were also quite low in the mix, so it was difficult to deduce what was actually being sung. The instrumentation was always heavy, like a concrete slab, and I was happy to eventually be free of its clutches. Maybe if I had seen Moiré, and it wasn’t the last day of this bender of a festival, I would have enjoyed it a bit more.

Hardcore / Sludge

FME 2026 I Double Truck, Double Violence

by Saleh Balfaqih

On a sunny, sleep-deprived Saturday afternoon, nursing a terrible migraine, I got to see Truck Violence. The band have been darlings of the Montreal hardcore scene for the past couple of years, and that day, they were slated to perform twice. The first was an indoor show, a calmer affair with kids in the crowd. Later that night, they played a secret show outside a 24-hour poutine restaurant, and they came out in full force. Somehow, by the end of it all, with back-to-back Truck Violence, I felt renewed.

Lead singetr Karsyn Henderson has a commanding presence, pacing and strutting across the stage like a Southern Baptist preacher mid-sermon. He’s both intense and fierce, yet tender. The best example of this comes during the rare reprieve in both sets, a dark folk banjo ballad, when he sings “I like it here right now” during “guns buried in the front yard,” his voice bending with a painful twang. Guitarist Paul Lecours and bassist Chris Clegg work in tandem, driving the songs forward with such force that you feel like taking a sledgehammer to a wall. At other moments, their sludgy riffs makes you feel like you’re wading through thick tar. The band’s newest addition, drummer Thomas Hart, pounded the drums with explosive force and ferocity. Together, Truck Violence is a force that’s impossible to ignore.

There is no drop-off in quality between sets. Truck Violence is a searing forge: intense, hammering, with brief reprieves from the heat. When they’re on it, there is no stopping them. You’re along for the ride whether you like it or not. You are compelled to move.

Experimental / percussions / Post-Punk

FME 2026 I Mek’Dr’Dr Brings Shovels and Whimsical Post-Punk to FME

by Stephan Boissonneault

Mek’Dr’Dr, the minimalist post-punk duo from Brussels, made up of Mien Heyvaert (vocals, bass) and Sara De Wit (vocals, percussion), easily takes the award for the most inventive band at FME this year. Not to mention, their name is just so damn fun to attempt to pronounce – mik der der, MEK DUR DUR, Mek Dr.? As we approached the secret show on a balmy early afternoon, hungover eyes and crusty perceptions clouded by the sun, Mek’Dr’Dr’s music, whimsical and full of life, reverberated off the city walls. The flemish duo was playing tracks from their debut album, No Safer Place Than a Toilet Seat.

The vocals echoed, almost Björkish in the vocal harmonies between De Wit and Heyvaert, consisting of a bouncing bass, percussive instruments and objects (literally anything, such as a shovel, pieces of wood, chimes, or a Fisher-Price xylophone) and an old drum machine that sometimes decided to cut out.

The whole Mek’Dr’Dr vibe is quite experimental, especially due to the wide assortment of percussive objects De Wit switches between. At times, the duo sounded like dolphins, reminding me of the B-52s, and at other times it transcended genre, but again, it was always so full of life and for lack of a better word, fun. For the final song, De Wit blew into a beer and vodka bottle in rhythm with the drum machine and bass. It was the perfect ending to the ingenious set.

FME 2026 I Hologramme Turns Petit Théâtre Into a Sweaty Discotheque

by Stephan Boissonneault

I’m usually not one for the electronic shows at FME because I get my fill at MUTEK a week before, but this year I was unable to attend. The various cocktails of substances in my system, paired with many, many beers, also was also craving to move, so an electronic show felt like the right choice. So as we shuffled into the dark room of Petit Théâtre, Clément Leduc, known in the electronic scene as Hologramme, was unleashing some truly cinematic, Interstellar-coded synths, full of bleeps and bloops.

The backdrop looked like a form of hyperspace, an emerald grid that moved and pulsed with the noisy sampling. Hologramme isn’t your typical electro DJ—his house drops never come when you’re expecting them, and just when you start to feel the hazy beat, he switches it on you—playing intergalactic 3D chess with your mind. The Interstellar vibes continued, especially after the grid morphed into 2D plasters of the Earth’s atmosphere, and Hologramme finally freed us from his relentless, mutating bass. At moments, the show was too much for my feeble brain, and during others, I heard a kinship close to someone like Bonobo or Com Truise.

The Petit Théâtre was quickly turned into a sweaty discotheque, and for the 20 minutes I was there, all felt right and a little less heavy in Rouyn-Noranda.

FME 2026 I Lou-Adriane Cassidy Turns Main Stage Into Her Own Disco-Funk Coronation

by Stephan Boissonneault

Though I know she has been around and quite popular in Quebec for several years, I first discovered the Francophone art-pop sensation, Lou-Adriane Cassidy, during FME back in 2022. So her Main Stage show was kind of a full-circle moment for me. In the years since her 2022 FME show, Lou-Adriane Cassidy has released three albums, her most recent ones being Triste Animal and Journal d’un Loup-Garou, and she has upgraded from the indie rocker who sometimes plays guitar (like her FME 2022 show) to the powerful leader of a wonderful disco-funk band.

Her performance of “Jamais tout à fait,” was mesmerizing, her voice slowing to a whisper in adult contemporary, jazzy fashion, and then signalling her band to release the Italo disco-tinged synth line. She also turned the entire crowd into her personal backing vocalists during “Valse frustrée”—thousands of voices swallowed up into the Abitibi night air.

I prefer the jammier pulse of Lou-Adriane Cassidy’s Triste Animal, especially live—it’s like watching someone flip between a séance and a bonfire hang. Her voice held both registers without strain, dropping into a near-growl one moment and floating somewhere angelic and clinging to the night air the next.

Punk / Punk Rock

FME 2026 I Thee Soreheads Are Basement Brain Surgeons

by Lyle Hendriks

The half light before a show starts can feel like a lifetime under the right chemical circumstances. I certainly found this to be the case as an anxious crowd waited for Thee Soreheads to take the stage just past midnight on FME’s Saturday night. As the minutes stretched forth, we watched for any sign of vocalist Maria Jimenez and her merry band of punks. In classic punk fashion, they kept us waiting, allowing the crowd and its anticipation to grow before finally opening up with the first of many fishtailing freakout tracks. 

Thee Soreheads careen through each track, equally haphazard and precise. Unlike many punk outfits, they don’t hide the riffs and melodies amidst a totally washed-out wall of fuzz. There’s room for everything here, whether it’s a sensibly timed, roaring bass riff from Hugh Lapham, another daredevil fill on drums by Seyjii Schultz, crushing, relentless riffs from guitarist Ally McPake, and, of course, the catchy declarations of violent intent from Jimenez on vocals.

With a background in theatre, Jimenez seems to step into a character and a suit of armour at once onstage. Her words carry poignant messages on the objectification of women, consent, and the daily agony of life as a woman. Her words fly out ruthlessly. She locks eyes with the men in the room, delivering condemnation and cold-blooded clarity, then stepping back so the band can erupt into another raucous passion of thrashy, surfy rock and roll. 

Thee Soreheads just felt right in my brain. Scratching a deep-seated, gnawing itch with surgical precision and manic intensity. It’s a masterful, fun execution of straightforward ideas, refining this well-loved genre into a potent freebase solution that few can ignore.

Hip Hop / R&B / Rap français / Soul/R&B

FME 2026 I Muhoza Brings Unadulterated Joy

by Saleh Balfaqih

On the eve of their album release, Prends soin de toi, I was fortunate enough to stumble upon and witness Muhoza, a Cameroonian-Rwandan, Montreal-based rapper, alongside his eight-piece band. His music blends jazz rap with R&B elements, resulting in a sound that’s vibrant but just really, really smooth.

If there were one word to describe their performance, it would be infectious. Muhoza raps with clarity and intensity, but radiates pure, unadulterated joy. He bounces around the stage, hyping up his band and high-fiving them between songs. His band returns the energy in kind. Everyone looks genuinely happy to be there.

His right-hand man, Carson [Alphonse], is a fixture on almost every song. His soulful voice and skillful vocal runs provide the perfect complement to Muhoza’s rapping, usually in the form of a catchy hook or a gorgeous chorus. The two play off each other effortlessly. 

Not enough can be said about the rest of his band. Somaya, a Montreal-based singer, brings a softer vocal touch, while Bianka, the man who can’t seem to stop smiling, lays down tasteful guitar licks. Then there’s his saxophonist and flutist, Noah Tremblay-Mimouni, who weaves flourishes of jazz into the music. Each member brings something great to the table. 

Look, I can’t speak French. I have no idea what any of the songs are about. But if we’re going to challenge the age-old (corny) idea that music transcends language, there’s no better artist to make the case than Muhoza.

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