Concert review

Hip Hop / rap

OSHEAGA 2026: JID Fades, but Doesn’t Falter

by Lyle Hendriks

My last encounter with Atlanta rapper JID was an obsessive phase of listening to 2017’s The Never Story, and considering Osheaga’s intensely nostalgic lineup this year, it was no surprise to see him on the lineup a decade later. 

Many a rapper have performed their hearts out on Oshega’s stage, but few have filled the space with such raw power and stamina as JID. His delivery sits at a resting rate of ‘breakneck.’ Whole stanzas flow between breaths, each syllable indelibly dictated even to the back of the crowd. Physically, he commands attention as he struts the stage, somehow larger than life despite being a man alone in an empty box, save for his DJ, Christo.

At times, JID is just showing off. Christo cuts the track for 10, 20, 45 seconds at a time, and the lines flow from JID like quicksilver, with lung capacity that would put a cardio freak to shame. Seemingly intent on firing through his entire discography, JID didn’t have shit to say between raps. He was here to rap and rage, and the front third of the crowd was all too happy to witness his absurd display of endurance. Of course, the brightest flames burn the quickest, and JID was in the unenviable position of starting five minutes late whilst opening for Geese. 

Midsong, with two minutes left in his set, some evil, twisted hater in the sound booth decided to fade out JID’s mix. This is presumably because the alternative was being eaten alive by Cameron Winters. Undeterred, JID continued acapella for at least another half-minute, with the crowd determined to keep it moving. Even when the cruel yellow flood of the houselights came on, he stood there, accepting roaring applause for a few moments more before being unceremoniously ushered off the stage. Despite this injustice, JID brought defiance, deadly flow, and incredible raw energy to Osheaga’s Friday night.

Alternative Rock / Post-Punk

OSHEAGA 2026: Wet Leg is Under New Management

by Lyle Hendriks

I’ve always preferred the explosive yet silky stylings of Wet Leg after dark. But even in an early evening spot on Osheaga’s mainstage, Rhian Teasdale and the band tease out a raucous crowd with their sultry, low-lit thrash.

Teasdale is impossible to look away from, equal parts writhing and levitating, her polite singing voice soaring massively overhead. The kick drum punches us in the throat, and the grinding, hypnotic guitars distort and phase with every hit. Teasdale drops to her knees for “CPR,” her poison-candy words diffused through a red telephone.

On the calmer songs, “liquidize,” or “davina mccall,” she searches faces in the crowd, singing straight into the eyes of untold thousands of sweaty fans. Her band either thrashes or sways behind her, depending on circumstance, but Teasdale’s motions are poised to the point of choreography, feline and ferocious.

Older tracks like “Chaise Longue” take new form, now with heavier, harsher melodies and even less chalance on Teasdale’s part. Her band plays flawlessly, but might as well evaporate into thin air behind her when she gives us the vulnerable, yet ever-self-assured “mangetout.” All eyes are on Teasdale, and it’s no mistake. 

In farewell to their earlier, more collaborative works, Wet Leg now exists around her magnetism and presence, and no one’s standing in her light.

Photos by Tim Snow

Electro-Rock / Synth-Pop / Synthwave

OSHEAGA 2026 I The xx is a Monochrome Green dream

by Helena Palmer

The xx were oozing an effortless cool during their festival set. Dressed all in black, the band captivated the crowd with old favourites. The big screens were in black and white for the first half of the set; it was all very Tumblr in the best way. Romy’s voice is soft and powerful at the same time. There was a beautiful nostalgia in hearing “VCR” and “Intro”. The band felt so big and untouchable, contained on stage like a dreamy memory. And then halfway through the set there was a shift. 

The big screens went a sort of matrix green and then transitioned into full colour. They mixed in songs from their solo projects, including “Enjoy Your Life” by Romy, and “Loud Places” by Jamie xx, which made the crowd turn the fuck up.

It went from being kind of hazy and distant to a very present, in-your-face dance show. After all these years, The xx remain one of the coolest bands ever. It was the perfect show to watch as the sun was setting over the city skyline behind them.

Alternative Rock

OSHEAGA 2026 I Wolf Alice Owns the Mountain

by Helena Palmer

Wolf Alice dominated the stage at their Osheaga set. Dripping in sweat, the four-piece English rock band sang a perfect mix of old and new songs. Ellie Rowsell is an angelic rebel. She sings with such precision and a vibrato that could cut glass, all the while with a pissed-off scowl on her face, a true force to be reckoned with. The band was unrelenting for their whole set, giving the crowd everything they wanted: heavy, distorted bass and familiar, catchy guitar riffs. 

Ellie switched from her microphone to a megaphone to sing “Yuk Foo,” a two-minute song that has no low points, screaming “I don’t give a shit” right from her gut. They played “Play the Greatest Hits” with Rowsell shouting “It isn’t loud enough” down on her knees. She absolutely owned the space, using every inch of it as her stomping ground. 

The crowd was eating every song up. They did what they could with a short set time, which was to keep the energy high from start to finish. I saw friends embracing each other during “Bros” and lovers kissing during “Don’t Delete the Kisses.” Each song pulled a new emotion out of the audience. They were super tight and absolutely did not disappoint.

Art Rock / Experimental Rock / rock n’ roll

OSHEAGA 2026 I Geese Ate The Forest

by Stephan Boissonneault

Psyops or not, I plant myself on those Roman Colosseum steps at the Forest stage to watch Geese do whatever it is Geese does to people. I’m surprised the place isn’t wall-to-wall—turns out a big chunk of the Osheaga crowd would rather be somewhere shouting along to Twenty One Pilots, which, fine — that’s a choice a person can make… Might be the wrong one, but c’est la vie.

Still, Cameron Winter and Co. have a magnetic energy to them, slowly pulling other members of the crowd and me into the Forest stage slough during the opener “Husbands,” as a silver projection of the word GEESE rotates to the pull of the earth—or the young rock group’s chemistry meszmer.

Winter’s voice sounds like he’s making a pact with the devil—morphing between a dissonant growl and an angelic falsetto— and he carries himself with just enough slacker indifference to make the whole thing feel dangerous in a good way. I’ve had Getting Killed on repeat basically all year, so I knew the goose was going to be loose live, but nothing prepared me for what they do to “Cobra” or “Half Real” onstage — the songs get pulled apart, vocals and instruments going feral, until nothing’s recognizable anymore, right up until Winter waves the band to hit the all-knowing crescendo. At one point, he just plays Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” off his phone, mid-set, no explanation, before slamming into the bridge of “2122” off 3D Country. — just the madness of rock’n’roll.

“I thought we had five minutes left, turns out we’ve got twenty,” Winter laughs, before easing into “Au Pays du Cocaine” and that bright, arresting little guitar riff. Someone in the crowd screams “PLAY TAXES,” and Winter, obliging as ever, lets the band tear into their little opus on human malaise. They close with “Trinidad,” Winter ad-libbing some nonsense from his ever-expanding personal lexicon before screaming “there’s a bomb in my car” over and over, like some pendulum that’s lost its mind and can’t stop swinging. Psyops or not — Geese has got the stuff.

Photos by Benoit Rousseau


Art Rock / Indie Pop / R&B / Soul Jazz

OSHEAGA 2026 | Blood Orange Pokes A Hole in the Clouds

by Stephan Boissonneault

The second Wet Leg finish detonating their little post-punk firecracker set, the bass line off Blood Orange’s “I Wanna C U” comes slithering over from the Mountain stage, like it’s daring you to notice. Devonté Hynes and his crew — drummer, keys, two backup singers who could probably start their own congregation at this point — blow through that minute-long teaser and dump us straight into “Saint,” off Negro Swan. I half-expected some earlier cuts off the new one, Essex Honey, because that’s what you’re supposed to do—promote the new album, but Hynes has never met a rulebook he didn’t want to torch. I see he’s got large over-ear studio headphones on during the whole set — once a producer, always a producer.

At some point I swear I can hear a Björk cover ghost through the mix, though that might’ve just been the edible talking in my inner ear. Hynes starts shredding like he’s got Freddie King’s ghost riding shotgun, all halcyon blues-dad guitar tone, murmuring his lyrics like he’s not sure the crowd deserves to hear them yet. Then the rain shows up right on cue — of course it does — just as the band eases into “Somewhere In Between,” easily the best track off the new record. Hynes drops the guitar for synths and lets his singers take over, and honestly, they’ve got the kinds of range that makes you a little angry on behalf of every band they’re not fronting yet.

Hynes fades into the background for a stretch, content to be a guy on a stage, until he picks up his reverb-drenched electric cello and does something that felt, chemically assisted or not, divine—like poking a hole in the sky and letting a little sun through to say hello. We get one or two more from Essex Honey, including the childlike wonder of “Countryside,” and he finishes with “Champagne Coast,” which is cut off halfway by the festival gods. Blood Orange did start five minutes late, but did you really have to do the man dirty like that? Shit, that was a good set, though. On to the next.

Photos by Tim Snow

Neo-Soul / Soul/R&B

OSHEAGA 2026 I Leon Bridges Defies Gravity

by Stephan Boissonneault

There’s always a self-appointed king of soul crowned at Osheaga, and this year the throne tilted toward Leon Bridges on a slot too early for his own gravity. He arrived like as a rumour, last-minute, mid-afternoon, blue Adidas tracksuit and matching shoes, glowing like a UV signal flare against the stage.

His backup singers shimmered in tropical green and gold, a small humid ecosystem behind him, and during “Tears of Joy” their voices curled up like sweet, sweet steam It was so, so familiar, I could’ve sworn I’d heard it in another life. Turns out it’s brand new, a preview of Leon Bridges’ Happiness Anytime, out September,

already haunting the air waves.

Bridges is like Marvin Gaye reincarnated through a fun-house mirror — same velvet phrasing, but his feet do something ancestral and alien at the same time. Mid-song, mid-sentence almost, he’ll slip into a moonwalk or a camel walk. He and his band clearly rehearse a shit ton. “Good Thing” arrived stitched between newer tracks, seams barely visible, Bridges’ gravity optional the whole time. We gotta give props to the horn section, and I’m sure they played “The River” or “Texas Sun,” but many company and I had to make our way to check out Wolf Alice. So it goes at the festival. Still, Leon Bridges was the perfect opener for my Osh this year.

Phors by Benoit Rousseau

Cumbia / latino / Ranchera

Nuits d’Afrique 2026 | Somos Más: A Celebration of Memory, Community, and Resistance

by Juliana Cortes

Thursday, July 16, the musical collective Somos Más filled the Scène Loto-Québec at the Festival International Nuits d’Afrique. One by one, each woman took the stage, performing body percussion and harmonizing their voices. Singers from Peru, Chile, Bolivia, the Dominican Republic, El Salvador, Brazil, and Morocco shared their talent, and we had no idea what was coming next.

They performed songs spanning a variety of musical genres, including rancheras, cumbias, festejo, and Chilean and Bolivian folk music. Some were original compositions by members of the group, while others were songs that many Latin Americans would recognize from their childhood. For me, these genres were the soundtrack to parties, road trips, family reunions, and the most important ritual in my family, which took place every weekend: cleaning. Somos Más transported me back to these everyday moments that, now that I live so far from home, have become cherished memories.

Photo Credit: Ivan Arturo Escobar M

I was deeply moved to witness these women, who all, for different reasons, ended up in Montreal and created this beautiful project together. They reminded me that, even though Latin America is a vast and diverse region, we can still connect by recognizing ourselves in one another’s realities.

Somos Más offered an intimate performance. We could see the complicity, sisterhood, vulnerability, and solidarity they spoke about in their interview. Whenever one member stepped into the spotlight, the others supported her with their voices and instruments, but I could also see how proud they were of whoever was leading or performing a solo. The percussionist, who recently joined the group and is of Moroccan origin, captivated me with her talent and remarkable versatility as she effortlessly followed the group’s exploration of multiple musical traditions.

Photo Credit: Ivan Arturo Escobar M

As the performance unfolded, I never knew what to expect. I felt a comforting warmth, as though I were at a house party with my closest friends, alongside deep admiration for each artist’s authenticity and a sense of wonder with every surprise they brought to the stage.

Somos Más collaborated with dancers Carmen and Paula from Girovago Productions, who accompanied the group with cumbia and contemporary dance before leading an interactive moment that invited the audience to dance as well. The dancers’ graceful movements and warm presence helped us connect even more deeply with the music of Somos Más. The group also collaborated with Centro Cultural Kusiy, whose performers presented the Bolivian dances saya and tinku. Stomping their feet in rhythmic unison, the Kusiy dancers grounded the music, connecting it to the earth and to the Indigenous roots of Latin America.

Photo Credit: Ivan Arturo Escobar M

For the finale, all of the dancers joined Somos Más to perform a medley of three beloved Latin American songs: Cariñito, Canción y Huayno, and Adiós Pueblo de Ayacucho, with part of the lyrics sung in Quechua. One of the Kusiy dancers moved across the stage carrying the Wiphala flag, a symbol representing the Indigenous nations of the Andean region. It was a powerful closing, bringing together musicians, dancers, and singers in a celebration of Indigenous peoples, whose cultures are essential not only to Latin American history but also to the very DNA of its present-day identity.

I experienced this performance as an invitation to embrace these connections. Whether through a shared love of music or a shared connection to Latin America, we can lean into one another through solidarity, community, and art.

Photo Credit: Ivan Arturo

Publicité panam
Brazilian / Indigenous peoples

Nuits d’Afrique 2026 | Suraras dos Tapajós: Connecting Us to the Amazon Forest Through Music

by Juliana Cortes

For the 40th anniversary of the Festival Nuits d’Afrique, the organisers decided to dedicate the 7 p.m. show to female artists. This year, the series opened with Suraras dos Tapajós, an Indigenous women’s musical group from the Pará region of Brazil. Having this group perform was quite a privilege for Montrealers. It is not every day that we get to connect with traditional music from the Amazon, a region that many of us have never visited. Yet we recognize it as one of the most important tropical forests on the planet, now under imminent threat from deforestation, with serious consequences for Indigenous communities, biodiversity, and the global climate.

The group entered the stage wearing their traditional garments and headpieces. One of the members was playing a small ceramic wind instrument called an “ocarina,” which mimics the sounds of birds. As each woman took her place and picked up her instrument, I could only think about what this concert would be like in their territory, surrounded by the forest. Each member performed with her whole being. Their music carried their ancestry and their commitment to defending Indigenous women’s rights and territory. The group quickly created an atmosphere of celebration. They invited the audience to form a roda, or dancing circle, where people could enter the middle and dance with one another. The Brazilian community was full of joy, recognizing one another in the dance, hugging each other, and connecting.

In the middle of their performance, the sky became cloudy and the atmosphere grew quite windy. Earlier that day, we could barely see the sun because of the smoke generated by the wildfires  Quebec, and Ontario. Suraras dos Tapajós’ concert was canceled because of the risk of lightning. Rain began to fall, bringing relief from the heat while leaving us disappointed that we could not watch the entire concert. As this sudden sequence of events unfolded, I returned to the Amazon I had been imagining. Every summer, wildfires seem to become more present here in Canada, sadly affecting Indigenous communities in Canada. Like the communities in the Amazon confronting environmental devastation, many Indigenous nations in Canada are also disproportionately affected by increasingly severe wildfires, facing evacuations, threats to their territories, and disruptions to cultural and everyday life. At that moment, the distance between the Amazon and Canada felt much smaller.

Fortunately, the next day Suraras dos Tapajós led a workshop where they shared that the group emerged from a community organization. The musical group is its major project; however, they also have bio-economic projects and textile production. The group specializes in carimbó, the principal cultural manifestation of the region—an ancestral dance centred around the drum of the same name that blends Indigenous and African traditions. Practiced in a circle that brings together musicians and community members, carimbó helps keep culture alive through songs about everyday life, nature, and spirituality.

The group was able to perform again, this time on the ground, where the distance between stage and audience disappeared, leaving only a shared circle of music and movement. We all formed a circle and were invited to join the roda, wear their skirts, and dance together as one of the members guided us. I appreciated having this more intimate moment with the group because it allowed us to connect more directly and experience this tradition more closely. I only wished there had been more time to talk about what is happening in their territory, how we could amplify their commitment to protecting the Amazon forest, and how their struggles resonate with what is happening here in Canada. As the wildfires continue to remind us that forests in Canada are also under threat, I hope there will be more opportunities to build these connections, because they are where understanding—and action—begins.

Photo Credit: André Rival

Publicité panam
classique / Contemporary / Modern Classical

Lanaudière 2026 | Explosion of colours and emotions thanks to Payare, Weilerstein, Ortiz, and Shostakovich

by Frédéric Cardin

The concert on Saturday evening at the Amphithéâtre de Lanaudière featured a stunning performance by the Orchestre symphonique de Montréal (OSM), conducted by Rafael Payare, in formidable technical and expressive form. On the program: Egmont by Beethoven, Dzonot (a cello concerto) by Gabriela Ortiz, and Shostakovich’s Tenth Symphony.

Before launching into the scheduled music, the orchestra performed a piece by Antonio Estevez (1916-1988), Mediodía en el Llano, in tribute to the victims of the earthquake that occurred in Venezuela on June 24. The title, which means Midday in the Plain, effectively evokes the enveloping heat of the tropical sun, in an elegiac and beautifully lyrical language, somewhat like a film score. The OSM fully succeeded in creating the desired radiance. The music was followed by a minute of silence, which was fully respected by the audience. It should be noted that the introduction of the piece was made by cellist Alisa Weilerstein in English, Spanish, and French (very good).

Beethoven’s Egmont was meticulously constructed by Payare and his musicians, culminating in an elegantly heroic finale, slender yet appropriately muscular.

Dzonot by Gabriela Ortiz (born in 1964) is a cello concerto premiered in 2024 by Alisa Weilerstein. The work also won a Grammy Award for Best Classical Composition of the Year. We understand why. Ortiz’s music is a true expressionist firework that pays homage to the nature of her country. The composition is divided into four movements: Luz vertical (Vertical Light) for the cenotes (very deep water-filled sinkholes); El ojo del Jaguar (The Eye of the Jaguar); Jade, in reference to the vibrant colour of underground rivers in certain regions of Mexico; and El vuelo de Toh (The Flight of Toh), which evokes a colourful bird that is endangered.

The score by Ortiz pulses with a feverish energy. The orchestra is pushed to the limit of its coloristic subtleties. The technical difficulty is impressive, and only a top-tier orchestra can do it justice. That was the case on Saturday. Payare drew the best from the OSM and the many rhythmically difficult passages. In certain passages, one felt like dancing with the musicians. But the biggest nod goes to the soloist Alisa Weilerstein, for whom the composer has woven lines and soundscapes of a savage difficulty. Nothing to slow down the American artist, who showcased the vastness of her talent without a hitch. Dzonot is a true gem of orchestration, a contemporary music that knows how to charm and dare at the same time, filled with lyrical traits, swaying episodes, and bursts of contemporary expressionism naturally integrated into the narrative fabric.

The main piece arrived after an interminable pause where the conductor, ready to start the music, had to wait a few long minutes for the entire audience to settle down and fall silent. As they say, everything comes to those who wait, and in this case, everything came together masterfully. Payare is deeply inhabited by the soul of this music. He constructs a world steeped in melancholy and gloom, but powerfully imbued with humanity and emotions. The slow episodes are fortunately not too emphasised, which would weigh them down. They breathe abundantly and very naturally. The conductor guides them through the stormy passages, where he unleashes the power of his orchestra. A paroxysmal power, but always controlled. The sound quality is breathtaking. Let’s note the exceptional solos of all the winds called upon for this purpose (flute/piccolo, clarinet, oboe, English horn, bassoon/contrabassoon, horn).

An absolute masterpiece interpreted at the height of its intentions. For the first of the concerts that the OSM will give in Lanaudière, Rafael Payare has just set the bar very, very high.

It is with this program (in part) that the OSM will go on a European tour in August. I think the audiences in Edinburgh, Warsaw, Aarhus, and Hamburg will get their money’s worth.

Afro-Antillean / Jazz / konpa / Reggae

Nuits d’Afrique 2026 | Chris Combette: the groovy elegance of the Guyanese troubadour

by Frédéric Cardin

With nearly fifty years of musical career, singer and composer Chris Combette was passing through the 2026 International Nuits d’Afrique Festival. He was on the Balattou stage on July 15th, with his “Angels,” Patrick Plénet on bass, Aymeric Létard on keyboards, and Éric Valérius on drums.

INTERVIEW WITH CHRIS COMBETTE AND ALAIN BRUNET

It is a complete, authentic, and experienced know-how and way of life that Combette presents from the very first notes. We hear a fairly complete panorama of the titles that have made his success over half a century, from La Danse de Flore to Maroni, passing through Salambô, Lè siel si ba, Lévanjil dan bouch (a sharp critique of religious colonisation, on swaying rhythms – “they left us the Bible, and took the gold”), Les Enfants de Gorée, and many others. A very generous program over two sets of more than an hour each.

Songs that talk about life, love, everyday life in Guadeloupe, French Guiana, or elsewhere in the Caribbean, stories that are told there, a bit like a Provençal troubadour did in mediaeval France. All of this to the rhythms of 20th-century Afro-descendant music, reggae, cumbia, Creole folk, a bit of zouk.

The man presents his songs with a calm humour and a class that is noticeable in all those artists from a generation of gentlemen who knew how to express themselves with restraint and a lot of honesty. Seeing and listening to him, I thought of the great Henri Salvador, who had that kind of educated charm.

If you want to get a (very) good idea of the concert, listen to his album Chris Combette & Angels – the Live released last January. It was almost exactly what we had on Wednesday evening.

Africa / African Jazz / cirque / West African traditional music

Nuits d’Afrique 2026 I African Circus Courtesy of Kalabanté Hits Different

by Stephan Boissonneault

The journey begins with six drummers, pounding on different-sized drums, and soon a breathtaking kora solo clings to the air. The kora player shouts something, and other performers—acrobats, trapeze artists, and contortionists—flip onto the stage.

Yamoussa Bangoura is not only a majestic and world-class kora player, but he is also the artistic director of Kalabanté, a circus school and international show production company. Under the name Afrique en Cirque, Bangoura and about 18 other performers took the Scène TD audience through a journey into the heart of West Africa, with some more modern additions, for the festival’s 40th anniversary. Soon, a tower of people holds up one performer as he balances his arm on the head of another, about 30 feet in the air.

Bangoura is the de facto leader of each performance—singing, playing kora, or hand drums—while another drummer and bass player (who seem never to rest) keep the music going. My only critique is that the saxophone and guitar solos were all pre-recorded, but the rest of the instrumentation was performed live. Why not just have a saxophonist or guitar player dressed in costume as well?

We’re all witnesses to a human pyramid and two contortionists who thrash against a long rope, while dislocating joints, spinning their heads and torsos in what should be impossible fashion, while some Afro blues jazz takes up the scene. I’ve personally seen the Russian, Aleksei Goloborodko (named the best contortionist in the world) during Cirque du Soleil, and these Kalabanté contortionists are easily on par with him.

Halfway into the performance, Bangoura and about six other absolutely shredded dudes dressed as construction workers begin what I can only call the “Magic Mike” portion of the set. They didn’t strip per se, nor did they need to, performing acrobatics on planks of wood and doing some pretty suggestive hand gestures to the beat of the African blues music. The crowd loved it. Next, we have more acrobatics with people flipping over other performers.

At times, it feels chaotic, but it then ends with two human towers, 40 feet in the air, falling in unison onto the mats. I think the reason the troupe doesn’t have a live saxophone or lead guitar is that they need the music to be on a loop so Bangoura and the other performers can queue up the next part of the show. There were a few moments that seemed to continue until the performers got it right. But hey, this is show business and sometimes the production doesn’t always work out the very first time. Either way, Kalabanté brought the heat and created a very memorable Nuits d’Afrique performance.

Photos by André Rival

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