Concert review

Garage Punk / Stoner Rock

FME 2026 I BALACLAVA: GOOD EFFECT ON TARGET

by Lyle Hendriks

BALACLAVA emerges from the crowd. Titular masks donned already, and it’s like something out of Heat. They clamber through the humid, foggy basement and arm themselves onstage. Angus Davis shoulders his bass and racks it back. Steve Salerno takes a mounted position on the drums. Arif Hama and J. Malzone flank on guitar and synth, respectively, and then it’s frontman Dylan Joice on the mic. He cracks his neck and gives the order.

NYC’s BALACLAVA is blistering, explosive, and fuelled by fearsome violence of action. Trashy guitar licks oscillate through the small space, with Salerno’s off-kilter, heatseeking drums holding the whole precarious affair together. Joice twists and coils around the mic, forcing every last syllable out until he crumples, only to reinflate and explode again. 

Their grungy, stoner rock is right at home with the tastes of the evening. Odd edges and quick changes demand constant attention. The whole band sweats through their heavy winter ski masks. Davis and Hama have a sudden lucid moment in the pandemonium, whipping out some unexpected choreo on “Simon Steals a Lot” and “Love Bog” before returning to their trashing. 

Despite the impending feeling of BALACLAVA, they still bring the party. It’s impossible to hear what Joice is saying between songs thanks to his transistor radio effects chain, but he seems happy to be here. And without question, the crowd is happy to have them. Like a house party in a bottle, BALACLAVA turns up, cracks it open, and burns it down. You get the sense that things could take a turn at any moment. Something wild this way comes.

Indie Rock / jangle pop / Psych-Rock / Psychedelia

FME 2026 I Corridor, A Psychedelic Indie Rock Ouroboros

by Stephan Boissonneault

Montreal’s jangly indie rock stalwarts, Corridor, took the Petit Theatre audience on a wild ride of hazy introspection on Friday night. The four-piece jammed countless tracks from their latest LP, Mimi, and drew out moments of uninterrupted sound, putting us all in a sense of uneasy seclusion. If I had to equate it, it felt like staring directly into the sun and just letting it all go. Labyrinthine vocals and endless riffing repetitions, the ouroboros consuming itself in real time.

The four-piece, made up of vocalist and bassist Dominic Berthiaume, guitarist Julian Perreault, guitarist and vocalist Jonathan Robert and drummer Julien Bakvis, with the addition of multi-instrumentalist Samuel Gougoux live, has never been tighter. Even during the truly chaotic moments of noise and guitar wankery, Berthiaume would give Robert a little nod, and the group would suck it all back in.

This band is 11 years old, and their live performance shows it. We had to give a bit of props to the visuals, created, of course, by the projection wizard himself, Anthony Piazza. During “Jump Cut,” for example, visuals of track and field high jumps morphed with dollar bills and a strange eye exam. It just fit the vibe of the song. Corridor’s music has always been psychedelic, but the visuals truly opened up the third eye. When the lights came up, there was that particular quiet that follows a good gut-punch of a show—when the applause takes a second too long to start because everyone’s still somewhere else. Corridor have found the pocket between pure chaos and rehearsed bliss.

Garage Rock / Indie Rock / Post-Punk

FME 2026 I Iguana Death Cult Converts the Non-Believers

by Stephan Boissonneault

There’s really nothing quite like a sweaty and high-octane garage rock show, especially at 1:15 a.m. in far North Quebec. Iguana Death Cult, a group hailing from Rotterdam in South Holland, clearly brought the heat to their early-morning set. From the moment of the first bluesy riff, frontman Jeroen Reek, who looks like a more approachable Stone Cold Steve Austin, wailed on the microphone, his powerful voice echoey off the Pazzo bar ceiling and walls.

Iguana Death Cult’s music on paper is actually quite simple—some garagey punk riffs here, thundering bass there, batshit drum fills—but it’s in their tenacity and unrelenting vibe where they shine. The band isn’t a band, so much as a fever dream with a chaotic rhythm section—similar to Parquet Courts with a touch of Viagra Boys and The Damned.

Songs from the latest album, Guns Out, consistently bleed into each other after Reek spits a mist of beer into the air. I swear they crashed through about 20 songs in 40 minutes, which is just unheard of. The IDC boys also had some call-and-response from the audience during “I Like It, It’s Nice.”

By the time they tore into “Supreme Leader,” Reek had abandoned any pretense of standing still, his mic stand tilted and clinging for life like a felled tree, while bassist Sam Pols was locked into a groove so filthy it should have come with a “caution” sign. The crowd, sardined and sleep-deprived, didn’t care that it was well past any reasonable hour—they moshed like the sun was never coming up.

After the set, the room was drenched, deafened, and grinning. Pazzo’s ceiling may never fully recover from the echo of Iguana Death Cult, but neither will anyone who was standing under it.

Electro-Rock / Pop-Rock

FME 2026 I Max Baby is an Indie Sleeze Elf

by Charly Blais

I guess being born with a name like Max Baby, you kind of have to grow up to be a showman. With pointed ears peeking out between dark, grown-out locks, Baby delivered his explosive electronic rock to Rouyn-Noranda’s Petit Theatre like an indie sleeze Christmas elf.

Alternating bursts of stalking and stumbling around the stage with airborne solos at the precipice, this show was fun to watch from start to finish. The sound was reminiscent of a darker Phoenix, and talented touring bassist Félix Ramaën kept everything grounded and pulsing, while Baby’s blown-out guitar tone almost sounded like a keyboard.

At times, Baby seemed a little disappointed in a perceived lack of verbal enthusiasm from the audience, but that didn’t stop him from leaving his guitar behind to jump into the crowd and demand a response, singing passionately as he flailed through bodies to launch himself off a table at the back of the room. As he repeats in one catchy song, Max Baby made it clear he believes he “can do anything” and is damn well going to try.

Garage Punk / Grunge

FME 2026 I Birds of Prrrey’s Grungey Siren Call

by Saleh Balfaqih

“I know you think of me when you reach second base,” quipped Clarence Tremblay, frontwoman of Montreal three-piece soft grunge band, Birds of Prrrey, as they kicked off this year’s FME main stage. It’s not a bad way to introduce yourself and it certainly caught my attention. Based in Montreal, Birds of Prrrey have been a staple of the local scene for the past few years, but somehow I’ve never gotten around to seeing them live. They recently dropped their debut album, Peace Love Homicide. It’s a dreamy, soft-grunge banger of an album with punk and Riot Grrrl elements (two genres and sounds that’s have been foundational to who they are). All I can say is I’ve been missing out. 


I’ll admit I’ve always had a soft spot for a three-piece band. There’s something I really like about a trio getting so much out of so little. And they killed it. They produced a wall of sound that enveloped the Main Stage. Noelle Inniss, hunched over her drum set, brought an intensity and energy that drove the whole thing forward. Grace Spitzley, on bass, had this hypnotic quality with her bass riffs. For me though, what really elevated the band’s performance was Tremblay. Her vocals were hauntingly beautiful. Her wailing invoked a sense of yearning and pining within me that made me reminisce about all of my past romantic failings. It’s a tough and thankless job to open a festival’s main stage. The crowd is sparse, the mood hasn’t really been set yet, and the pressure is on to set the tone. Birds of Prrrey did just that—their set acting like a siren’s call slowly pulling people towards the stage.

disco funk / Italo Disco / Jazz-Funk / Post-Punk

FME 2026 I Choses Sauvages: Where the Wild Things Are

by Lyle Hendriks

Blending ‘80s Italia-glam and a primal, self-aware machismo of the future, Choses Sauvages never fails to electrify a crowd. Headed by the ever-animalistic Félix Bélisle (who was in his finest Freddy Mercury look for FME’s Thursday night), the Saint-Eustache/Montreal funk-punking supergroup takes pleasure in firebombing the dancefloor, demanding motion and mayhem with each long, shapeshifting song.

Each Choses Sauvages cut is an unassuming trapdoor leading to a new subterranean wonder realm of pure sensation. What starts as a funky, four-on-the-floor beat transforms before our eyes, zig-zagging through moments of screamo, hard rock, Prince-esque seduction anthems, and back to that irresistible funk sound at its centre. It’s impossible to keep track, feeling less like a setlist and more like a wall of TVs switched to clashing yet strangely resonant frequencies.

Adding to the frenetic, Quebec-infused tones that Choses Sauvages is so known for was the guest addition of Montreal post-punk Alix Fernz on guitar. His usual angular, juxtaposing style is mellowed slightly here, leaning into the soul and the feeling in a symbiotic push-and-pull with full-time member Marc-Antoine Barbier. Locking it down throughout is Charles Primeau on bass, each nasty little riff coaxing a little more, more, more out of the fast-rising crowd.

Bélisle himself never disappoints on vocals, showing off raw power and endurance with hair-raising high notes and ferocious, growling passages alike. Like the rest of the songs, his cadence and delivery can change at a moment’s notice, stretching and pulling until it snaps like a brittle rubber band, slingshotting the whole outfit into another danceworthy instrumental break to take us home. At FME 2026, Choses Sauvages showed us the power and grace of celebrating music, not just playing it.

Experimental / Contemporary / Noise / Noise-Pop

FME 2026 I Camilla Sparksss Brings the Noise

by Stephan Boissonneault

Usually the weird noise artist is booked a little later in the FME roster, so we all have a moment of reprieve to truly take in the abstract magical energy given off by a place like Rouyn-Noranda. But the FME bookers and Mothland really pulled out the experimental stop early with Camilla Sparksss.

As we entered the Petit Theatre, I felt slightly drunk, not due to the four or five beers prior, but because of the MC Escher-vibed electronic loop Camilla Sparksss was blasting. The synthesized riff seemed to be cannibalizing itself in real time and throwing me off my axis. I heard one person say, “I hate this,” while another said, “This is my vibe.” Either way, it was a bit off-putting and difficult to take in, and I felt like I was falling up some confusing stairs.

Camilla Sparksss is a Swiss-Canadian noise artist who drops heavy beats, ear-piercing synth lines, and razor-toothed vocals about drunken love, hate, and apathy. At times, her set felt very Berlin club-coded, and others it was more like a shoegaze show. She was constantly moving, as if she had four arms extending from her black dress, jumping between the two turntables, two samplers, and a metric shit ton of effects pedals. At one point, Camilla’s backdrop became rotoscoped as she screamed “I Like the Noise.” Her vibe also reminded me of Toronto noise punks, SLASH/NEED—another FME alumni.

It’s these kinds of noise shows that both unite and conflict a festival crowd. I’m sure most people have no idea who or what Camilla Sparksss is, but for the ones who did witness her, we will all remember it.

dark wave / Electronic / gabber / jungle / musique de film / musique de jeux vidéo

MUTEK 2026 | Violent Magic Orchestra, The Blow That Was Coming

by Alain Brunet

All things considered, there’s no real difference between a Japanese anime and the thunderous hour spent with Violent Magic Orchestra, the highlight of MUTEK 2026. The Osaka quartet lived up to the program curators’ glowing descriptions. A real eye-opener. The slap in the face we’d been warned about.

As the band’s anonymous interviewee explained in a PAN M 360 feature, this VMO set was conceived as a film. Every second of that hour was envisioned as a narrative driven by the music. The styles employed are dictated by each scene: tonal melodies and harmonies, so common in Japanese anime, but also female and male growls, and classic metal guitar riffs jostling in a maelstrom of fast-paced beats—jungle, drum ’n’ bass, footwork, and so much gabber.

We are treated to a narrative that allows us to imagine its own dystopian plot, guided by these extremely powerful sounds. We willingly absorb this expression of extremes across the emotional spectrum, from celestial innocence to violent tragedy.

Even as we’re swept up by this tidal wave, we realize that this performance is rooted more in electronics than in live instruments; except for the guitar and vocals, everything has been designed and crafted using machines.

The live performance resulting from these digital concoctions fuels the movement of bodies—right down to crowd surfing, shouting, and singing—as well as guitar riffs. In short, there’s very little actual live instrumental playing. And yet, you’re left with the impression of a massive performance!

Why is that? Because humans are shouting, growling, speaking softly, and singing. Because they’re throwing themselves around in every direction. Because they’re dressed and made up like black metal mutants. Because they have a story to tell. Because the whole world is familiar with Japanese anime, manga, and video games—their codes are now part of the global collective imagination. And, let’s not forget, because Violent Magic Orchestra is such an excellent band.

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Electronic / Power Electronics / Rock Turc / trance

MUTEK 2026 | A masked duo on the Esplanade Tranquille, well, well…

by Julius Cesaratto 





Le collectif berlinois Istanbul Ghetto Club est monté sur la scène de l’Esplanade Tranquille, identités dissimulées derrière des masques (tiens, tiens…) , pour offrir une prestation éclectique et rafraîchissante très attendue lors de la troisième soirée de la série « Expérience » du festival MUTEK. C’était leur première au Canada, et le moins que l’on puisse dire, c’est qu’ils n’ont pas déçu !





Le mélange de leurs influences « DIY » brutes et d’instruments anatoliens traditionnels a donné lieu à une performance d’une fraîcheur saisissante : de la musique de club improvisée alliée à une instrumentation en direct. La soirée a débuté par un délicieux échantillon de flûte *ney* turque posé sur un rythme percutant. La basse est entrée en jeu, très funky, accompagnée de lignes acides fluides qui s’entremêlaient en arrière-plan.





 De chaque côté de la scène, des écrans LED affichant des chats les encadraient — un clin d’œil charmant aux créatures emblématiques d’Istanbul. Ils ont gardé leurs masques carnavalesques tout au long du spectacle, préservant ainsi l’anonymat des deux musiciens qui se produisent sous une identité collective.





Des rythmes entraînants et sensuels laissaient la part belle aux échantillons de percussions manuelles. C’était comme s’ils traduisaient l’énergie de leur présence scénique pour l’injecter directement dans la musique, créant un groove contagieux à mesure que l’intensité montait. Les deux artistes dansaient sur scène tandis que des lignes acid hypnotiques et des échantillons de flûte tenaient le public en haleine.





Le duo a enchaîné les moments forts, mêlant habilement composition électro en direct et envolées virtuoses au saz, le tout salué par les acclamations constantes d’une foule composée aussi bien d’habitués de MUTEK que de festivaliers plus jeunes. Des sonorités oscillantes et hypnotiques perçaient à travers les motifs de batterie, se mêlant à des échantillons vocaux hachés et saturés. La pulsation constante et percutante de la boîte à rythmes 909 ne faiblissait jamais, assurant un set d’une énergie ininterrompue.





Après avoir tout donné, ils ont offert un bref moment de répit en ralentissant le tempo, démontrant une maîtrise totale d’une foule de danseurs qui ne cessait de grossir. Alors que le calme semblait revenir, le public a eu droit à une nouvelle séquence de *saz* en direct, montant crescendo sous les rugissements et les applaudissements de la foule alors que les musiciens saluaient une dernière fois.





C’est, de loin, mon spectacle préféré de la programmation de MUTEK jusqu’à présent ; j’aurais même aimé qu’ils puissent jouer un deuxième set. Il ne fait aucun doute qu’ils ont conquis de nouveaux fans ce soir-là, moi y compris.





Istanbul Ghetto Club, the Berlin-based collective, took to the Esplanade Tranquille stage, faces clad in masks, to deliver a much-awaited eclectic and refreshing performance for the third night of MUTEK’s Expérience series. It was their Canadian premiere and it’s safe to say they did not disappoint!!





Blending their gritty DIY influences with traditional Anatolian instruments made for an excitingly refreshing performance: improvised club music with live instrumentation. The night kicked off with a delightful sample of the Turkish ney flute over a thumping beat. Bass kicks in, very funky, with liquid acid lines weaving underneath. LED displays of cats framed them on either side of the stage, a cute nod to the emblematic critters of Istanbul. Their faces stayed clad in carnivalesque masks throughout, preserving the identity of both musicians, who perform anonymously as a collective.





Jumping, sexy beats really let the hand percussion samples take the lead. It was as if they were translating the energy of their on-stage presence and injecting it directly into the music, making for an infectious groove as the intensity kept climbing. Both artists danced on stage as hypnotic acid lines and flute samples kept the crowd on their toes. 





The duo went from strength to strength, with a savant blend of live electro composition while simultaneously shredding on the saz, which was greeted by consistent cheers from the crowd, MUTEK veterans and younger festivalgoers alike. Oscillating, hypnotic sound pierced through the drum patterns and mashed itself with choppy, distorted vocal samples. The punchy 909’s steady thump never relented, making for a non-stop high-energy set.





After going full throttle, there was a brief period to catch your breath as they slowed the tempo down, total control over a crowd of dancers that kept swelling by the minute. Just as it seemed things might settle, the audience was treated to another session of live saz, building into a crescendo as the crowd roared and applauded while the musicians took one final bow.





By far my favourite show of MUTEK’s program so far, to the point I wish they got to play a second set. There is not a doubt in my mind that they gained a few fans that night – myself included. 







    
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                    Alternative Rock / Pop-Rock / punk pop
                    
Vans Warped Tour Montreal: Simple Plan is Pretty Damn Close to Perfect

                    

                    by Charly Blais
                                        
                

            
    

    
    
    

        

One thing that stood out to me about Warped Tour was the sheer volume of freshly purchased band merch festival attendees were wearing. Nostalgia sells, I guess? Walking around Parc Jean Drapeau on Saturday, I saw approximately one million Simple Plan tees, including a notably cringe-y one that said “I’m just a kid an adult.”  Could they live up to the hype?





Simple Plan’s Montreal Warped Tour show opened with an epic intro befitting of their status as festival-closing hometown heroes. The band entered the stage to a supercut of archival footage from the band’s 27 year history (yep, you read that right) played over a dramatic drumroll, injecting the exhausted crowd with a newfound burst of energy. 





The band met that energy with a killer rendition of “I’d Do Anything,” reminding us all why they’re still going after all this time, before showering the cheering audience with one of the biggest confetti explosions I’ve ever seen. Despite a little less youth on their side—and a lot less hair gel—all the band members were instantly recognizable and made it clear they still intended to rock our socks off.




















Between their English songs and international success, it’s easy to forget Simple Plan’s origins, but as the show went on, the band had their Québécois bona fides on full display. After a quick poll of the audience’s ability to understand French, lead vocalist Pierre Bouvier mostly spoke our city’s langue en commun for the rest of the set, even throwing in a tabarnak at one point. Drummer Chuck Comeau was also repping a custom Montreal Victoire jersey with his name on the back.




















The visuals were punchy and fun, with comic book-inspired animations, impressive pyrotechnics, and dancing mascots. “I’m Just a Kid” aptly featured cute collages of childhood pictures of the band members.





The most memorable moment by far came when the band played “What’s New, Scooby-Doo?,” the theme song they recorded for the 2002 cartoon reboot of the same name. As the intro started up, Bouvier invited anyone dressed up as Scooby-Doo to join them on stage. What started off as a couple of Scoobies quickly exploded into a full-blown pack of maybe 100 dancing Scoobs (and at least one Velma). 





On top of all the Simple Plan hits, we also got treated to a nostalgic medley of Smashmouth’s “All Star,” “Sk8er Boi” by Avril Lavigne, and “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers. Nothing is more sure to revive a crowd of sun-stroked millennials than screaming “It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?”





They closed out their set with “Perfect,” crooned to a misty-eyed crowd fervently waving their phone flashlights. As they launched into the last chorus, a huge fireworks display took over the sky behind the stage. Maybe they can’t be perfect, but they got pretty damn close.














    


    

            







    
            

                
                

                    
                    
                

                

                    Pop-Punk
                    
Vans Warped Tour Montreal: All Time Low Brings An All Time High

                    

                    by Charly Blais
                                        
                

            
    

    
    
    

        

Since it was my first time seeing All Time Low live, I can’t say whether this show was an all time high for the band, but it was pretty damn fun. 





The stage set up looked straight out of MTV circa 2009, with stacks of speakers and amps decorated with pop punk graphics reminiscent of the All Time Low shirt I bought at Hot Topic around that time, which incidentally is how I discovered the band—I liked the tee, but didn’t want to be a poser, so naturally had to buy their album too. 





After partying in the blazing sun for six straight hours, the audience couldn’t quite muster up the energy that frontman Alex Gaskarth was asking for in his repeated calls for “human participation.” 





But while our knees may not have supported as much jumping as they could have during All Time Low’s peak era, us elder emos were still singing along, helped along by lyrics projected on the screen. And despite the fact that the sun was way too bright for much of an effect, everyone had their iPhone flashlights out for “Sleepwalking,” an emotional track released in 2020.





The audience members weren’t the only ones showing their age. The foursome is playing as a threesome this summer, with lead guitarist Jack Barakat down for the count due to nerve pain resulting from an injury. The band honoured him by playing his favourite song, “Lost in Stereo,” a true banger.





And despite a few grey hairs, they still sound just as good, if not better, as I remember them sounding on my iPod classic walking through the halls of my junior high school. As they played their closer, “Dear Maria Count Me In,” I was transported right back there (minus the severe bacne and unrequited pining for boys who hadn’t yet discovered deodorant).










 









    


    

            







    
            

                
                

                    
                    
                

                

                    
                    
MUTEK 2026 | Barker unchained at Nocturne 1

                    

                    by Julius Cesaratto
                                        
                

            
    

    
    
    

        

 





Known for pulling dance music away from its four-on-the-floor foundations Barker closed out the night of Nocturne 1 with a live set that leaned fully into the rhythmic complexity & genre-defying blends that have defined his musical output.





The set opened airy, with a dreamy, trance-like soundscape. Thick basslines slowly emerged, under choppy snares that carried a trippy, acid-adjacent edge. Barker stretched this buildup out further and further, progressively raising the BPM and layering in distorted bells as the low end deepened, while a deep drum rhythm steadily crescendoed beneath. As drums crept further into the mix, he played with the crowd’s anticipation, pulling the energy back just as one might have thought it might peak, before pushing the intensity up a notch again. As more percussion started stacking in, the set started veering toward a harder, peak-time club sound.





Then, all hell broke loose. Barker cut in a sudden wave of rolling kicks, pulsating through SAT’s Meyer Sound system, fine-tuned courtesy of Montreal’s own HQ Audio, which hit with a thud heavy enough to rattle your chest. The crowd erupted, ecstatic, as cheers echoed across the room. This release of tension marked a definitive breaking point in the energy on the dancefloor. Easing back into a slower tempo, the booming bass gave way to looser drum breaks. Throughout, the British-born musician remained fixed over the decks, fully absorbed in his own composition, his face shaded and nearly hidden for the entirety of the performance.





As the set wound down, he slowed further into softer chords, giving way to keys and hand percussion samples that sat in stark contrast to the hazy trance textures that had carried the night. The rhythm patterns shifted one last time, closing the set on a progressive trance note that faded before sending the crowd off in a cheerful mood, excited for day 3 of the festival. 










Crédit photo:  Nina Gibelin Souchon












    
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