Francos 2026 | In the “Leloupsphere”… in the Dome and its aftermath
by Alain Brunet
Thirty years ago, Jean Leloup and his buddy James Di Salvio pieced together their best raw takes from the preceding months and years. Flashes of inspiration born of partying, chaos, mental instability, alcohol, sleepless nights (and snorted drugs)… but above all, genuine talent. Le Dôme was certainly as unpolished as its creator has always been, 14 songs that seem less cohesive at first glance, less so than those on his previous albums. Yet this album remains the best in his discography to date, except for those minds not inclined to appreciate the very real virtues of neurodivergent thinking in art.
Set against the rather classic rock and pop sound of La Sale Affaire, these 14 tracks found their cohesion; magnificent flowers had sprouted from the rubble. Here we found the perfect blend between Leloup’s familiar world and this explosion of styles better suited to the context of 1996—namely, the artist’s attraction to a more arty and raw rock, to heavy funk, to reggae rock, or even rap, all now integrated into his stylistic arsenal. Without abandoning the tales of the night and its excesses, Jean Leloup’s poetry opened up to new horizons, notably to this frosty quest for a paradise lost in the jungle, unearthed at the end of a long journey along a “poorly drawn path.” One could rise to it by swallowing fluorescent liquids and more, the song tells us. A prelude to all the valleys of reputations that followed.
I still remember a Dôme show at the late Spectrum, one of the most compelling performances given by the man himself. Just one evening ago, on a rainy Sunday, June 14, 2026, on the main stage at Les Francos de Montréal, the golden and now established new generation of indie keb was tasked with paying tribute to this now legendary work. Vincent “Les Louanges” Roberge, Safia Nolin, Zach Zoya, Thierry Larose, the duo Rau_ze, Lou-Adriane Cassidy, Thierry Larose, the trio We Are Wolves, and Klô Pelgag were thus backed by keyboardist Alex McMahon and a top-notch band, with the only original member of Le Dôme being the excellent drummer Alain Bergé, who was also the longtime drummer for Senegalese superstar Youssou N’Dour.
These tribute concepts carry certain risks, especially when they’re dripping with nostalgia—which, fortunately, wasn’t the case on this rainy evening, which nonetheless drew a considerable crowd to the Place des Festivals. Ad nauseam, Quebec’s cultural scene never ceases to search for modern myths, despite a rather limited body of work given the youth of this apparent nation and its small population, but Le Dôme remains an excellent subject for mythification; such a flagship of the music industry must be honored, as was the case on the Rogers stage at Les Francos, all sponsored by Ici Musique and hosted live by former indie columnist Olivier Robillard-Laveaux, who for the occasion was caked in mascara and decked out in a furry costume. Ready for a pilgrimage to Le Dôme!
All in all, the most compelling performers, in my opinion, were Vincent Roberge, Safia Nolin, Rose Cormier, and Zach Zoya. More specifically, the 14 classics unfolded as follows: The duo Rau_ze kicked things off with “Pigeon,” a very solid rendition, as would later be the case with their cover of “Sara.” Safia Nolin was brilliant alongside Lou-Adriane Cassidy in “La Chambre.” Les Louanges and Zach Zoya performed “Le Monde est à pleurer” together, while Les Louanges and Lou Adriane sang “Faire des enfants.” Thierry Larose took the stage alone for “Le Castel impossible,” later joining Safia Nolin and Alexandre Ortiz (We Are Wolves) for a cover of the classic “I Lost My Baby.” Safia then joined forces with Klô Pelgag for “Sang d’encre.” The trio WAW performed “Vampire,” Thierry Larose and the whole crew performed “Edgar,” and the show reached new heights with “Johnny Go” by Zach Zoya and Rose Cormier. After “La drop sociale” performed by Zach himself, Rose Cormier and Klô Pelgag began their march toward Le Dôme, with the support of all their colleagues.
And since a “fireworks” finale was called for—to quote Les Louanges—the crowd filed out of the Dôme and retraced their steps all the way back to 1990, just to remind themselves, in the 15th movement of this special program, that John The Wolf was also an unlikely yet very real hitmaker, in addition to having left an indelible mark on our culture with his work… And that the legacy of his work remains just as improbable, except for all the memories yet to come.
Francos 2026 | Malaka, blending soul, folk, and Caribbean influences
by Sandra Gasana
One of the highlights of this first weekend at Les Francos is undoubtedly Malaka, the French sister duo of Guadeloupean descent. Composed of Sasha and Laurina, the group wrapped up their short tour of the Quebec province at Les Francos’ Pub des Brasseurs.
With their distinct yet complementary voices, they interact beautifully on stage with a touching chemistry. I couldn’t help but think of the duo Ibeyi—those Franco-Cuban twin sisters based in France—as I discovered their world. Along with their percussionist Timothée Faure, they manage to immerse us in the gentle sounds of soul and folk, as well as in more rhythmic and percussive Caribbean beats.
One plays guitar, the other bass, and they switch instruments at times, which adds to their versatility. They chose to kick things off with “Malaka Maï.”
“I like to get things moving with people I don’t know—I’m going to dance for you,” Sacha tells us before singing and dancing around his sister and across the stage. Their latest EP, Mang, features English, French, and Creole lyrics, with themes ranging from identity to embracing one’s roots.
Timothée’s calabash makes an appearance on a few tracks, emphasizing the Caribbean sounds, while the audience is invited to join in by making bird noises during one of the songs.
They performed a track from their debut album Maï, titled “Tino,” but it was especially during the song “Ulo”—on which they collaborated with Brazilian singer and musician Flavia Coelho—that the audience moved closer to the stage to dance. In fact, festivalgoers were even treated to a zouk dance lesson, before wrapping up with a dance segment set to gwoka music to close out the show—all presented with excellent staging.
Remember that name—we’re likely to be hearing a lot more about it in the years to come.
Classica 2026 – Too hot and humid for Schubert, and the instruments
by Frédéric Cardin
It was hot and humid last Wednesday night at the Sainte-Famille Church in Boucherville. Mind you, I’ve seen worse, but still… The concert held there promised us beautiful moments of music, with top young performers: cellist Cameron Crozman, violinist Chloe Kim, and pianist Meagan Milatz. Crozman and Milatz, I have already told you about them. He and she are excellent. Chloe Kim, I had never heard of her before.
On the program, the two wonderful Piano Trios by Schubert. For the occasion, they were presented to us on period instruments: a 1826 pianoforte (contemporary with Schubert, therefore) and a period violin. Only Crozman’s cello remained modern, but with gut strings instead of metal. A more muted sound, then.
You need to understand something about these instruments (and gut strings): they are very delicate little creatures. Much more than their modern descendants. These things go out of tune for nothing, in addition to having less projection power. And when it’s hot and humid, guess what, it’s worse.
Result: the concert ended up resembling a constant struggle for the performers to give depth to their phrases and, above all, to maintain their tonal accuracy. This is less true for the pianoforte, whose mechanics are more resilient, but for the violin and cello, it’s a different story. Not knowing Chloe Kim, I cannot testify to her usual skills in terms of intonation. She is reputed to be excellent, and has played with Rachel Podger, Monica Huggett, Masaaki Suzuki, William Christie and Les Arts Florissants, and others of that calibre. These people cannot be mistaken in their assessment of playing partners.
What I can say, only, is that the intonation problems with the violin last night were recurrent. What part of the fault is with the violin and the performer? I refuse to comment. If I compare it to the cello, the latter appeared much less guilty. In truth, almost never. I must say, knowing Cameron, I know he is a musician of exceptional quality. Did he find it easier to compensate for the atmospheric conditions? His strings were gut, but his instrument remains modern, more resilient.
I took a lot of time for this introductory explanation, but I think the context was important, as I guess the musicians present gave their best.
Thus, setting aside the issue of intonation, the three artists demonstrated a very solid ensemble performance, with narrative constructions vibrant with naturalness and conviction. Crozman offered us superb sunny lines in the expositions of the first movements of both trios. He also sang with an enormous emotional force the famous melody of the Andante from Trio No. 2 in E-flat, revisited with delicate and very expressive attention in the final Allegro moderato.
Chloé Kim demonstrated convincing technical skills, expressing herself with great clarity, even though I missed the enveloping brilliance of a modern instrument (I think, for example, of Isabelle Faust, in a magnificent live recording).
That said, it was Megan Milatz who particularly delighted me. Those who have already heard her elsewhere in Montreal (like at a HausMusique concert on the 9th floor of the Eaton Centre, for example) know how remarkably precise her playing is, while maintaining a plastic ease that allows her to make any surgically organised line dance. The young lady was in great form yesterday and gave us precious passages on a particular instrument, an English pianoforte by Broadwood.
Let’s open a parenthesis here about this instrument. At the beginning of the 19th century, there were different makers of fortepianos (ancestors of the modern piano). Each had its own manufacturing style. We mainly distinguish between two models: English and Austro-German. The English (including Broadwood) had a more robust architecture and construction details (strings, types of pads on the hammers, etc.) that still today give these sound machines a rounder, less bright timbre compared to their Germanic cousins.
The use of a Broadwood model was an “interesting” experience, according to Cameron Crozman’s own words in the concert introduction. Especially because it is not the type of instrument that Schubert would have used.
The experience was indeed interesting, and I can hardly imagine any artist who could have done as well as Meagan Milatz in bringing colours and expressiveness to this music, which usually resonates in a more radiant way with an Austro-German period instrument or a completely modern one. The instrument itself, a property of local patron Jacques Marchand, is clearly very good.
That said, I’m not convinced that I want to hear this music again with this kind of sound model. The “mist” surrounding the pianistic discourse (Meagan Milatz’s own expression) ultimately creates a void. One expects a more affirmative presence of the instrument in the complex and elaborate narrative constructed by Schubert. It is not there. The instrument fades away too easily.
Conclusion: I left thinking that I really wanted to hear these artists play the same program either in a better controlled and temperate environment, on modern instruments, or both.
SAT – Futurs Antérieurs | “Lueurs quantiques”, a Suspended Space of Perception
by Félicité Couëlle-Brunet
Presented on the evening of Saturday, June 6, as the closing event of the SAT Dome residency as part of the Futurs Antérieurs festival, Lueurs Quantiques by France Jobin and Markus Heckmann highlighted a suspended space of perception, where the dome became a field of experimentation. Beneath the Satosphere, the sound unfolded across a spatialization of more than 90 speakers, fragmenting the air into imperceptible movements.
France Jobin’s sound work, rooted in a minimalist approach that she conceives as a sculpture of listening, manifests itself here in precise, almost imperceptible micro-events that float like weightless dust. Restraint becomes substance, and silence a vehicle for tension, structuring a space where every shift in intensity redefines depth.
In response, Markus Heckmann’s visual systems generate streams of light in real time. Mist, beams, and shadows emerge as fleeting phenomena, immediately absorbed by the darkness. The light does not create fixed forms, but rather transient states.
Inspired by the principles of quantum physics and the structures of architectural space, the work explores zones of indeterminacy where perception and disappearance coexist without hierarchy. In this exhibition following the residency, the creative process remains visible, like a material still in the making.
Beneath the dome, *Futurs Antérieurs* takes on a literal resonance: a future that has already come to pass, still unfolding in the shadow of what has not yet happened.
Photo Credit: Nina Gibelin Souchon
Publicité panam
SAT – Futurs Antérieurs | Jacques Greene & Martyn Bootyspon, in The Post-Club Tradition
by Félicité Couëlle-Brunet
While recently browsing an archival Instagram page (lastcallmtl), which documents Montreal’s music scene between 2005 and 2015, a sense of continuity emerges between these fragments of the past and the current forms of the club. We can see the seeds of a post-club aesthetic that is still alive today, where artistic trajectories have crossed, shifted, and transformed without ever disappearing. Under the SAT’s dome, the B2B set featuring Martyn Bootyspoon and Jacques Greene fits squarely into this lineage. Both hailing from this ever-evolving Montreal ecosystem, they embody two variations of the same legacy.
Bootyspoon channels a post-club energy built on collision and controlled excess: saturated sub-bass, fragmented rhythms, absurd vocal edits. The approach is fast-paced, unstable, laced with humor and disruption, as if the dance floor were becoming a space of joyful chaos. Jacques Greene, conversely, explores a more restrained form of emotional density, where texture takes precedence over disruption. His music constructs immersive spaces, poised between melody, substance, and emotional resonance, where the club becomes a place for listening as much as for movement. These two approaches converge without canceling each other out.
The spatialization of the dome acts as a unifying fabric; transitions become flows, and contrasts become extensions. Sound moves through a space that no longer separates aesthetics but connects them. This B2B performance thus serves as a reflection on the scene from which they emerged. An active memory of the Montreal club scene, where the forms of yesterday continue to reconfigure themselves in the present through the body in motion.
Caprice & Art Choral | Three Eras Overlap and Culminate in the Magnificat
by Alain Brunet
Under the direction of Matthias Maute, the Ensemble Caprice and the Ensemble Art Choral have capped off their 2025–2026 season with a bold venture: welcoming concert violinist Mark Fewer, an iconoclast of the classical world. Dressed in a sweater and turquoise sneakers, he first takes the stage with a performance of Bellatrix, introduced by alternating cries and random phrases on the violin—a chromatic discourse reminiscent of free jazz or other forms of free improvisation, yet composed by Jeffrey Ryan.
For music lovers familiar with this style, there was nothing new under the sun in this contemporary vocabulary, but for the Caprice / Art Choral audience, it was perhaps an invigorating plunge into uncharted waters. Many laughed in surprise, many were entertained, no disapproval was expressed; rather, there was a sense of openness to this dose of new music, proof of how far this kind of musical aesthetic has come.
Mark Fewer also served as soloist for Felix Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto No. 2 in E minor, Op. 64, MWV O 14, which premiered in 1845 and consists of three movements: Allegro molto appassionato in E minor, Andante in C major, and Allegretto non troppo – Allegro molto vivace in E major. The guest violinist’s flamboyant style suited the orchestral configuration (some forty musicians) well, as his musical expression was clear from start to finish. The orchestra, conducted by Matthias Maute, was clearly at the service of the soloist and the featured work—a piece that is extremely well-known and performed here by an orchestra whose period instrumentation inevitably produces a different, softer sound, with instruments distinct from those of the Baroque era. Once again, this is a daring trait of Maute and his two orchestras: transgressing the repertoire, superimposing eras, and thus producing unique sounds that break away from the classical norm and offer music lovers a fresh experience.
After the intermission, Johann Sebastian Bach’s Magnificat (BWV 243), premiered in 1723 in Leipzig, is the program’s centerpiece, preceded by a choral version of the world-famous “Jesu, meine Freude” (BWV 147), a melody deeply ingrained in the Western collective imagination and beyond. The work recounts the visit of the pregnant Virgin Mary to her cousin Elizabeth, who was also pregnant. The Magnificat is divided into 12 movements; this time, the work was performed by Caprice and the Art Choral choir arranged on stage alongside the instrumentalists (rather than behind the orchestra), with soloists including soprano Janelle Lucyk (who, as the conductor revealed, is pregnant like Mary!), tenor Angelo Moretti, countertenor Ian Sabourin, and baritone/bass Dion Mazerolle.
Here is an outstanding performance of a seminal work from the Baroque repertoire, performed by Baroque musicians. True to the Baroque aesthetic and its distinctive vocal techniques, the soloists shine in the 2nd movement (soprano), the 5th (bass), the 6th (countertenor and tenor), the 8th (tenor), the 9th (countertenor), the 10th (soprano), the 11th (all soloists and choir), with the other movements reserved for choral singing, culminating in the 11th and 12th movements with the instrumentalists and their attentive conductor, who also proved to be an outstanding entertainer before his Montreal audience.
The combination of the two parts of the program thus took us beyond Baroque orthodoxy or purism; we were treated to a surprising blend of three eras, proving that it is possible to travel through time—at least for the duration of a concert.
CMIM 2026 | Japan Triumphs with Russian and Hungarian Music!
by Julie Thériault
At the competition finals this Thursday, June 4, at the Maison symphonique, it should come as no surprise that the results were a surprise! One thing is certain: our three finalists are all winners, and they treated us to a wonderful evening of music. The Grand Prize went to Koshiro Takeuchi of Japan, followed by his compatriot Sara Watanabe and Laurel Gagnon of the United States.
The grand finale began with Tchaikovsky’s concerto performed by the Japanese pianist Koshiro Takeuchi, who didn’t seem to be the same musician as the day before in the Mozart…
A virtuoso and spirited performance, to be sure, but as with the Mozart, the rhythmic anchor points—so crucial in these densely notated passages—weren’t always clear, which made the cohesion with the orchestra a bit less intelligible. Romantic music incorporates tempo fluctuations to express emotional content, but this rhythmic approach might have benefited from a little more breathing room—or “oxygen,” as Diane Dufresne would say. The slow movement deserved a stronger presence in its very timid opening alongside this large orchestra…The audience still thoroughly enjoyed the performance!
Crédit: Tam Photography
Sara Watanabe then treated us to a solid performance of Bartók’s Second Concerto, perhaps less crowd-pleasing than Tchaikovsky in this context… As in Bach’s Chaconne in the first half, she demonstrated a keen sense of structure and direction, to the benefit of the narrative arc. She masterfully embodies the demonic rhythmic episodes, as well as the mysterious and abstract atmospheres of the second movement. She perfectly occupies the space she needs to in relation to the orchestra, as if she herself were at the controls of the mix!
Unfortunately, the American Laurel Gagnon (some of whose ancestors are from Sherbrooke!) seemed to be affected by fatigue or nerves… and was unable to deliver the performance we had hoped for. Nevertheless, she moved us with her expressiveness, particularly in the highest registers!! If the Mozart competition is meant to demonstrate stylistic versatility, she should win the grand prize… Her Mozart from the previous evening, refined and playful, stood in stark contrast to her hyper-romantic and expressive Brahms. She offered a gift with every note!
Competitions stir up a lot of emotions in everyone who witnesses them—the contestants, the judges, and the audience. That may be the one thing everyone agrees on.
It will be interesting to follow the careers of these incredibly talented young people (and not just the three finalists) as they venture into the jungle!
With Yatou, Noubi Brings Together Voices From Around the World
by Sandra Gasana
Le Lion d’Or was packed to the brim on a Tuesday evening for the launch of Noubi’s Afro-folk album, Yatou, which means generosity, openness, and above all, hospitality in Wolof, one of the languages spoken in Senegal. With the Chœur d’Afrique et d’Ailleurs opening the show, we were in the perfect setting to enjoy the launch.
The Chœur d’Afrique et d’Ailleurs is a multilingual, multigenerational, and multicultural choir that supported Noubi throughout the two-year production of the album. Co-founded by Noubi and Charline Marion, an energetic and talented choir director, this group has taken us on a musical journey, singing in Wolof, Arabic, and other languages. Noubi on the cajón, Gabriel Evangelista on the piano, all brought together by Catherine Béliveau’s excellent direction and some choreography to round out the experience.
Let’s the launch begin
From backstage, you can hear the cajón. Then Caroline Planté appears on stage with her guitar, followed by Charline Marion at the piano, and finally Hector Alvarado with his bass and Dominique Soulard with his two guitars. All talented musicians hailing from France, Venezuela, Senegal, and Quebec (and a bit of Spain, since Caroline lived there for a few years). Each song is presented in a unique way. No two are alike. The Yatou Choir, much smaller than the first, accompanied them on some songs, while for others, only the musicians were on stage.
The environment, artificial intelligence, and the decolonization of the mind are among the themes explored by Noubi, who enjoys weaving short stories into his songs. A storyteller by trade, he works extensively with young children, particularly in the field of music composition.
In addition to the cajón, Noubi also plays guitar on a few tracks before returning to the cajón, his instrument of choice. Meanwhile, Charline leaves the piano to join the choir, before all the performers return to the stage for the grand finale. It was a real party, featuring a djembe segment performed by slam poet and percussionist JSM l’Officiel—who is also a member of the choir—much to the delight of the audience, who began dancing all over the place.
It was hard to leave after getting such a boost of energy in the middle of the week, but one thing is certain: everyone was smiling as they left.
Quatuor Molinari | The Shostakovich Complete Works: From Challenge to Pure Joy
by Michel Rondeau
During the last weekend of May—specifically on Thursday, Friday, and Sunday, the 28th, 29th, and 31st—the Molinari Quartet took over the concert hall at the Montreal Conservatory of Music to perform the complete cycle of fifteen string quartets by Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich. Quite a challenge.
But how does one do justice to an event of such magnitude? Especially since this is not only one of the most significant chamber music works of the 20th century (and indeed of the entire history of music)—one of the richest and most expansive—but also one of the most demanding in terms of performance.
Imagine more than 6½ hours of highly challenging music presented in bursts over three nearly consecutive evenings—but above all, the perfect opportunity to hear these works performed in concert in chronological order (from 1936 to 1974) and in close succession, allowing the audience to clearly trace the composer’s evolution. When you consider that he originally planned to write 24 of them—one for each key, in both major and minor!
But the best part was undoubtedly having Olga Ranzenhofer, the ensemble’s director, as our guide on this journey. Olga has always had a genuine passion for these quartets and knows them inside and out—both their strengths and their pitfalls. The Molinari has frequently included them in its programs over the years and, about a decade ago, presented the first complete cycle, although the result apparently did not quite live up to Olga’s expectations. So this time, under her leadership, the Molinari succeeds in making the score shine with a thousand lights.
Speaking of incandescence and brilliance, this Shostakovich cycle also served as a sort of baptism by fire for the new violist, Cynthia Blanchon. Since joining the ensemble last summer, she had certainly had the opportunity to showcase her immense talent by participating in various programs, but this Shostakovich cycle represents, in a way, her true initiation. Since she rose to the challenge with flying colors, just like her colleagues Antoine Bareil on violin and Pierre-Alain Bouvrette on cello, she can already be considered a full-fledged member of Le Molinari.
The early quartets, numbered 1 through 6 and all in major keys, share a distinctly symphonic style. Although they are fairly classical in style, they are by no means conventional, as the composer constantly draws on a wealth of inventiveness that requires his performers to remain alert and to demonstrate as much flexibility and agility as they do energy.
One of them—the fourth, written in 1949—remained in the composer’s drawers and was not premiered until after Stalin’s death in 1953. Shostakovich feared that it would be banned, or at the very least censored, because he had incorporated Jewish and Eastern European folk music into it, whereas the party’s very strict line condemned anything that did not exalt the distinctly Russian character of the Soviet Union.
Since Shostakovich composed a great deal of large-scale music—operas, symphonies, festive music, and film scores—chamber music served as a kind of refuge for him, where he could give free rein to a more personal, more intimate style of composition. The 7th is thus dedicated to his first wife, Nina, who had died a few years earlier. It alternates between a mournful atmosphere, rage, and anger before giving way to a gentle dance.
For Shostakovich, the quartets of his middle period—specifically Nos. 7 through 10—also provided an opportunity to break free from formal constraints and express himself in an increasingly personal way. His anxieties and bitterness are evident in these works with considerable intensity, yet this did not prevent him from continuing to innovate and create.
The period during which he composed Quartets Nos. 11 through 15 (most of them in minor keys) coincided with his years of physical decline. These included heart problems, paralysis of the hand, and inflammation of the spinal cord, among other ailments, compounded by bouts of depression. But none of this could stop him from writing and continuing his work, so the music takes on very dark and painful introspective turns, and at times even jarring ones, as in the 13th, which ends with a viola solo in the highest register in a sort of heart-wrenching sigh.
For the very last quartet, which is in a sense a long funeral oration, the musicians had swapped their white shirts and coats for black ones; they were surrounded by a circle of small lanterns, and the lights had been dimmed. Briefly unsettled by the flurry of sixteenth notes in the intermezzo, the six slow, desperate movements followed one another relentlessly. Here, Shostakovich engages in a sort of dialogue with death. It is heavy, powerful, and deeply poignant, yet at the same time imbued with a certain serenity in the face of the inevitable.
Once the final notes had faded away, we sat in silence for quite a while, still stunned by the heart-wrenching beauty of this existential distillation of humanity, before the applause snapped us back to our senses and brought us back to reality.
Thank you to Olga, Cynthia, Antoine, and Pierre-Alain for this wonderful journey. For all the music lovers who gathered on those three evenings, it was a time of pure joy.
A lively Vivaldi with the Orchestre classique de Montréal and the Petits chanteurs du Mont-Royal
by Frédéric Cardin
The Viva Vivaldi concert last Saturday, May 30, not only marked the end of the season for the Orchestre classique de Montréal (OCM) under the direction of Andrei Feher, but also the 70th anniversary of the Petits chanteurs du Mont-Royal. For the occasion, two great classics by Vivaldi were presented, a composer whose popularity is not in doubt: The Four Seasons, to highlight the qualities of the orchestra and especially its first violin, Mark Djokic. Then the Gloria RV 589, in a fully choral version, conducted rather briskly by the approximately 150 choristers present.
As an introduction to the concert, the Orchestra played a composition by Tom Lachance, as part of a partnership with the Schulich School of Music at McGill University, we are told. The work, which lasts about ten minutes, is called Concerto for Two Violins in G Major, and is a copy of the architecture of a baroque concerto of the type written by Vivaldi. Three movements marked fast-slow-fast, an exchange of dialogue between the soloists (Mark Djokic and Marianne di Tomaso) and the ensemble, and effects of marked contrasts. Here, the interplay is between tonal harmonies and modernist dissonances, in a back-and-forth that is not surprising, given that we have already heard this kind of process several times elsewhere. That said, Tom Lachance was able to exploit the principle skilfully enough, despite its predictability, to maintain interest.
The Four Seasons followed, with Mark Djokic, first chair of the OCM, in very good form. The one who had injured his leg the day before moved slowly to his position, but once settled, he delivered a lively and articulate reading of the numerous virtuosic lines of the score. Without being devoid of a few hiccups, Mr. Djokic’s mastery is solid and confident. We will highlight the beautiful performance of the OCM under the baton of Andrei Feher, convincingly intense. He led his ensemble with incisive attacks and fairly short final note holds, informed by the aesthetics of historical performance, while allowing the modern instruments of the Orchestra to fully resonate. A roundness of sound, therefore, which beautifully married with the surgical practice of rhythms. The OCM offered a fusion of authenticist practice and a certain modern opulence that I found to work very well. Moreover, Mark Djokic also played this game by practicing the urgent style of historical baroque in the fast movements, but sometimes adding a more modern lyricism in certain melodic lines of the slow movements. A beautiful balance that satisfied the music lover’s pleasure of your devoted chronicler.
Concert Viva Vivaldi – 30 mai 2026 – Orchestre classique de Montréal – Mark Djokic, violon solo Andrei Feher, dir. – Photo : Tam Photography
The second part welcomed with great pomp the approximately 150 young choristers of the Petits chanteurs. The Maison symphonique was filled with a majority of the boys’ parents and friends, and it was noticeable. Maybe a little too much, especially because of the applause between each movement at the beginning of the Gloria! A bit annoying, even though at one point, conductor Andrew Grey (director of the Petits chanteurs), and not Andrei Feher, who had lent him his baton for the occasion, radically sped up the transitions between the movements, not giving the applause sprinters time to execute.
First, let’s remember that the Gloria RV 589 is interspersed with a few soprano solos, which had to be replaced here by the section of young boys in the choir. As for the tutti choruses, you will quickly understand that with 150 voices, the clarity and precision of the polyphonic lines, and especially the virtuosic counterpoints of several movements, were not easy to manage well. All in all, Andrew Grey managed to create some moments that left a strong impression. Apart from a few muddy passages (the Gratias agimus tibi, 4th movement among others), which were difficult to distinguish in such a mass, the different voices were clearly perceptible, and the required agility was quite satisfactory. So let’s tip our hats to the young singers and especially to their conductor.
I also wish to strongly highlight the excellence of the solos offered by the principal chairs of the OCM. The famous trumpet solo in the introductory movement was nothing short of exquisite. Also, superb melodic lines were offered by the oboe and cello throughout the piece.
As an encore, Andrei Feher delighted himself by taking up the baton again and conducting the mass of musicians in Vivaldi’s Laudate Dominum RV 606.
A successful evening for the OCM, which we hope will fill its subscription book, as well as for the sustainability of the Petits Chanteurs du Mont-Royal.
It’s easy to see why Vision Diversité chose to wrap up its Mozaïk series with Abdel Grooz and his talented band. Unlike the previous concerts, which were more intimate and introspective, this one was a completely different, vibrant show that left the audience in awe. It was intimate nonetheless, as Abdel shared snippets of his life stories and the context behind certain songs, inviting us into his world. The setting was perfect for the occasion, with just the right lighting, plants scattered across the stage, and a rug—making it feel as though we were in his living room.
But first and foremost, let’s talk about the top-notch musicians who accompanied Abdel for the occasion: his longtime collaborator Donald Auguste Dogbo on drums, who actually celebrated his birthday on stage, Zacharie Winter on guitar, Rémi Cormier on trumpet, Chacón on keyboards, and a surprise guest named Nazim Mohammedi, an Algerian guitarist visiting Montreal for the Montreal Raï Fest.
From the very first song, Abdel had the audience singing along, and they were immediately swept up in the moment. The show is full of surprises, shifting from diwane to West African sounds and Latin rhythms thanks to Chacón’s keyboard. Chacón, originally from Cuba, has added his own Latin jazz touch to Abdel’s rich repertoire. Sometimes, within the same song, Abdel manages to blend two or three different styles, which he brings together perfectly.
One of the highlights of the evening was Abdel’s bass solo during a song dedicated to his grandmother. It was a moment that seemed to stand still, and you could really feel the artist’s emotions as he took the song in a new direction.
The musicians had plenty of opportunity to shine, as they were given the space to do so. In each piece, Abdel introduces the musician before giving them the time they need to shine, thereby extending the experience. The audience particularly enjoyed Zacharie Winter’s solos, as well as Rémi Cormier’s trumpet flourishes. In fact, Cormier has just returned from a trip to Senegal, where he participated in the 5th edition of the Stéréo Africa Festival and the Saint-Louis Jazz Festival. Chacón also had the chance to introduce himself to the audience, who are not likely to forget his name anytime soon.
The rapport between Abdel and Donald was palpable, whether through the knowing smiles they exchanged or the way they communicated with their eyes regarding the musical direction.
“We have some good news to share with you: the show Diwane has been selected for the CAM tour!” Abdel tells us at the end of the concert.
In addition to the surprise with Nazim, we got to do a few dance moves thanks to two twin sisters who are members of the Kalabanté troupe. Abdel has toured with this Guinean circus troupe, and that experience has also left a lasting mark on his career. It was the perfect opportunity for the audience to stretch their legs and dance, much to Abdel’s delight.
And so the Mozaïk series, which began in January to mark the 20th anniversary of Vision Diversité, came to a close on a very festive note. I was thrilled that my children were able to attend the show and discover the best of Montreal’s multicultural music scene.
A bold transformation of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake envisioned by choreographer Ivan Cavallari, The Lake, in this truncated yet enhanced identification of new symbols, was premiered last night in the Wilfrid-Pelletier Hall at the Place des Arts in Montreal.
A Swan Lake stripped of its princes, princesses, talking animals, and wicked sorcerers to find itself in the world of luxury and olfactory fashion, namely a perfume brand promotion agency. I will not go over all the details regarding the vision of the artistic director of Les Grands Ballets Canadiens de Montréal; you can, on this subject, consult the report of a meeting held with Mr. Cavallari himself last week, right here:
The curtain opens on a typical scene of choreographic enchantment. But the magic is interrupted in an effective transition to a film studio. The sets fade, the technical lighting structure descends from the ceiling, the cameras come into view, and the technicians bustle about. Odile, the muse of the Cygne Noir (Black Swan) perfume, takes center stage, the undisputed star of the brand. Siegfried is clearly her lover, but he is unceremoniously tossed around by the imposing personality of the frail yet temperamental star. A first pas de deux does not change the impression: it is Odile who leads the game. Here, Cavallari has completely stripped the stage bare to give the duo all the space. Deep blue curtains as the backdrop, and that’s it. The Lake, in a simple colour, stripped of its magical stereotype soul to make room for the personalities of the protagonists.
Transition to a dance school. Under the watchful eyes of the three original creators of the ballet, Tchaikovsky (music), Petipa, and Ivanov (choreography), the children perform before allowing Odette, the remarkably talented one from the school, to enter. She stands out from Odile with a clear naivety and a character without arrogance. You can see it quite well in the movements, the gestures, the costume, too. A simple, light dress, in contrast with Odile’s sporty, athletic, and high-performance clothes under a transparent veil.
Odette leaves the school, Siegfried the stage. The scene of their meeting is ingenious and beautifully aesthetic. The two wait in a bus shelter that gradually moves from the left to the right. In the bus shelter, an ad for the famous perfume Cygne Noir. Odette is fascinated, Siegfried introduces himself, he is part of the ad too. Odette leaves with a card from Siegfried. She will go to participate in the auditions for the brand’s next product.
During these auditions, Odette fascinates everyone with her grace and talent, particularly the three creators, now materialised as capricious designers in red and black, and “realistic” avatars of the original villain Rothbart. It is during this episode that Siegfried, attracted to Odette, dances with her. Odile catches them and lets her anger explode. She leaves a bag with her perfume inside. Odette is enchanted by the scent and gets caught in the trap set by the three designers who offer her a contract on the spot. What am I saying, an arrangement is imposed on her.
There is something very significant in this scene where three men in positions of power take it upon themselves to instrumentalise a young woman as one would a particularly effective tool to achieve productivity goals. She finds herself dressed in a stylish bikini-like costume that Lady Gaga might wear in Ibiza. Odette is clearly dehumanised, and left a bit bewildered by the speed at which things have happened, even wondering what exactly she has just signed. A pact with the (three) devils, it seems. Or see it also as Tradition takes hold.
Music, between synthesis and radical cutting
This is where Cavallari introduces the excerpt from Tchaikovsky’s Pathetique Symphony, replacing the original folk dances, which are now rather unnecessary in this context. The transition to this music, from the original Swan Lake, is quite smooth. Obviously, it’s the same composer, and the same style. It remains that it could have clashed. But no, Cavallari’s choice is just as symbolic: the Symphony itself, but especially the 4th movement, which ends in silence and not in a grand finale. Odette, the authentic one, has just died.
Let’s take this opportunity to talk about the music. If you wanted to immerse yourself in Tchaikovsky’s complete and sumptuously enveloping soundtrack, you’ll have to pass. First of all, know that the original ballet lasts more than two and a half hours. Cavallari’s Lake makes it a good hour shorter. By replacing, moreover, part of the score with excerpts from the Symphony No. 6 “Pathétique” by the same composer, the music you already know is even more severely truncated.
Finally, famous landmarks, such as the Swan Theme, usually heard in the second act, are this time presented at the very beginning of the evening. As if the choreographer had wanted to get rid of this cumbersome melodic emblem as quickly as possible, probably because it was too powerfully associated with the “Once upon a time,” aspect of the work. In the logic of the Lake, the idea is valid. That said, due to habits, we still look for this sound reference later in the work, even though it doesn’t come.
On the performance side, the Orchestre des Grands Ballets played correctly, with some very beautiful ensemble passages, while others, like the first measures, were mechanical and lacked fluidity. I don’t usually take too much time to mention technical or intonation errors. This kind of thing happens. But I must highlight the serious intonation problem of the violin solo associated with the pas de deux of Siegfried and Odile, then Odette. A notoriously difficult score, it is true. But here, it was out of tune to the point of making teeth grind. And not just once. In a sustained and repeated manner. It’s a shame. If I had been with visitors, I would have been embarrassed.
Odette’s Revolt
Let’s return to the action on stage. The frenzy of success becomes Odette’s daily life. But it is a success that does not belong to her. The next scene, the first after the intermission, is of great symbolic violence: the three designers manipulate Odette, and her body, as they please. On vertical screens at the back of the stage, we see a body (that of Odette), marked with numerous indications, all of which are alterations to be made. The three “villains” violently undress Odette, who was dancing in a very simple dress, the one she wore to school. The aggression here is entirely masculine, heavy with messages. They impose a futuristic tutu/corset (illuminated!) on her, adorned with a pointed bustier like the one Jean-Paul Gaultier made for Madonna.
Odette plays along, but eventually gets tired of it. She revolts, causing the appearance of four white swans, echoes of her identity submerged by a role that is not hers. The battle rages with the three designers, who refuse to lose their power over the young woman. Through all this, Siegfried looks quite pathetic. He tries to protect Odette, but is easily pushed aside. It is Odette, alone, who now leads the game, who tears her ties with this world that almost swallowed her.
Notable irony: after their failure, the three designers find themselves at the bus stop seen earlier and encounter Odile, who also seems to be questioning herself. A symbol seems to carry this reflection: her hair is down, left free to float and wave in the movements.
Correct intuition, because in the next scene, the last of the show, Odette has also let her hair down. It ends in a scene of calm, where Odette embraces Siegfried, with other couples behind, in the shadows. It’s not a fairy tale ending; the young woman does not find ultimate comfort in the lover’s arms. Here, I rather had the impression that it is Siegfried who is being comforted. Odette is doing him a favour by loving him, despite his insignificance.
A little bit of magic, nevertheless
Overall, Ivan Cavallari offers an interesting and effectively modernised reinterpretation of the classic tale. The message is certainly quite obvious, even somewhat unsubtle. But it still seems necessary to repeat it, considering the retrograde turmoil that is currently unfolding in the world.
When we go to see Swan Lake, and despite the outdated social discourse that accompanies it, we love to be amazed. We love to enter the tale and the fairyland. The big trap of this update was to turn it into a socio-political thing, a vehicle for an engaged message, with serious statements completely evacuating the sense of magic and enchantment.
Cavallari opted for a middle ground, hence the label of Magical Realism that he himself affixed to his creation. So that in the end, this modernised Swan Lake is not completely devoid of wonder. The magic still seeps through the symbols, through the allegories, through Odette’s waking dream. That said, some scenes stripped to the extreme, like the first pas de deux in front of a vast blue curtain, would still have benefited from a more evocative environment, whether classical or modern. There was a sense of emotional dryness.
On the choreography side, Cavallari’s choice to remain strictly faithful to the gestures, metrics, and codes of classicism could also have been reshaped, in addition to the music and the scenic concept, to signify even more strongly the dichotomy between dream and reality, between Realism and Magic, between authenticity and corporate oppression. The world of fashion could have been illustrated with modern, contemporary gestures.
I remain pleasantly struck by a few memorable scenes: the bus stop, the large display of the Cygne Noir, vulgar and almost Trump-like in its golden attire, the three designers who, fleetingly in a scene that passes very quickly (you have to observe carefully), take on the appearance of the three first creators, Tchaikovsky, Petipa, and Ivanov, the final scene of the embrace, etc. I think that this vision offered by Ivan Cavallari provides part of the answer to the modernisation of classics dusted off by the social dissonances they convey in this 21st century, where new generations need to connect differently to masterpieces. Some will say that it was done by succumbing to the attention deficit of a generation accustomed to rapid scrolling. Perhaps one could have extended the study of Odette and Odile’s characters, taken the time to delve deeper, and made their transitions more organic, more credible. It does indeed happen a bit too quickly.
But the portrayal of the character Odette as the truly central element of the work, leaving the “charming prince” Siegfried far behind in the shadows, now that feels good.
The presentation of The Lake continues until June 7th.
