MHN | Senny and Zal, A Bond That Only Art Can Create

by Sandra Gasana

They had never met before this first trip to Montreal. Yet, during Friday night’s musical dialogue in the kora language, Senny Camara and Zal Sissokho seemed to have known each other for years. This rapport, tinged with respect—Senny used the term “Master” when addressing Zal—demonstrated the mutual admiration between the two artists. They exchanged smiles from time to time, whispering words in Wolof between songs, like a father advising his daughter.

Despite the snowstorm outside, time seemed to stand still inside Club Balattou, creating a feeling of floating. This contrast made us savor the present moment even more, knowing what awaited us outside.

Let’s start with their outfits: Zal, all in white, with his signature black hat; Senny, also all in white, wearing an outfit from her mother’s home region, with touches of green. Even her chair matched her outfit. Absolutely stunning!

The two musicians interacted with their audience, sometimes playing the role of journalist when they asked each other questions. Senny took the opportunity to share her connection with the calabash even before she took up the kora. It was therefore predestined!

“The first part will be more traditional, we will go to the Mandinka Empire,” Zal informs us, while several of his students were in the room.

And then, in the following song, we discover Senny’s piercing and powerful voice, her smile lighting up the room. She sings mainly in Wolof, with occasional passages in English, and places humanity at the heart of the themes she explores in her songs. Sometimes Zal accompanies her on vocals, sometimes he simply plays his kora, plucking the strings in a unique way that only he knows how.

Between songs, they tune their instrument. “My kora is cold,” Senny jokes. Indeed, this is the kora virtuoso’s first time in Montreal, and she will take the opportunity to play several other dates across the country with Zal.

They alternate, sometimes Zal plays a piece from his repertoire and then it’s Senny’s turn to pick from her own, notably playing several pieces from her most recent album Yéné, released in 2024.

“Everything that is happening in the world right now, we had warnings before but we didn’t pay attention,” she said, introducing Missal, also in Yéné album.

Zal, in turn, shared with us a song in which he pays tribute to his father who has passed away, telling us anecdotes from his many stays in Senegal and the precious time he spent with him.

Together, they managed to get the room singing along to the song Yéné, before finishing with Niit, which means Human in Wolof.

And the cherry on top of the Sundae was the participation of the musician Lasso Sanou who came to close the evening with his flute, in the middle of the two koras.

That’s how we returned home in the storm, but with our hearts full of warmth.

Broadway / Classical Singing / Jazz / Musical Theatre

Opera M3F | Sharon, a work of art in herself

by Alain Brunet

While chatting with Sharon Azrieli ahead of her performance last Tuesday presented by OpéraM3F, I learned that the Montreal soprano had also lived in New York. That her classical training is complemented by a deep knowledge of the Great American Songbook and American musicals. That her mind is sharp and incisive, but also affable, warm, and friendly.

I quickly realized that this lady was a more special person than I had initially thought, a colorful character who perfectly represented the Jewish culture of the North American East Coast as it exists in Montreal. Seeing her perform on stage that late afternoon at the 9th floor of the Eaton Center, these impressions were amplified tenfold, and a smile spread across my face.

Thus, the repertoire chosen was predominantly Jewish American and began with “Tonight “by maestro and composer Leonard Bernstein, the very embodiment of modern classicism made in the USA and its incursions into popular culture in the 1950s and 1960s.

Sharon Azrieli fits perfectly into this aesthetic: she fully embraces her classical singing, as evidenced by her heartfelt rendition of “O Mio Babbino Caro”, she also embraces her love of American musicals and films, from “West Side Story” to “Yentl” or “The Nine-Fifteen Revue”, not to mention vocal jazz, whose inflections she knows well and adapts to her operatic technique.

Sharon was clearly raised on the repertoires of Leonard Bernstein, Stephen Sondheim, Michel Legrand (partly of Armenian origin but close to Jewish culture, as we know) Harold Arlen and others, but also to the great American stars of the generation that also preceded her, starting with Judy Garland, whose “Get Happy” she covers in a charming version choreographed with dancers/singers, no less.

In an interview, Sharon said that she had never presented such a blend of pop and classical music before, so she couldn’t be entirely sure of the outcome even she was optimistic. In my opinion, it was worth the risk, because her real personality fits perfectly with this composite culture from New York, combined with a Canadian-Montrealer culture of which she is clearly proud.

In fact, the artist makes an effort to sing in French, notably with a lovely jazzy piano-voice version of “C’est si bon”. We also note the inclusion of French Québécois quotes in a mashup tribute to Canada. . In this regard, however, it should be noted that the excerpt from Gilles Vigneault’s anthem ” Il me reste un pays” is poorly chosen here, as this quote is purely separatist (!), clearly at odds with the Canadian federalism that the main protagonist defends. We can forgive Ms. Azrieli for this oversight, as her performance is entertaining overall and exceeds expectations.

In a musical theater setting, she sings, jokes, and dances while summarizing her own life as a singer, mother, grandmother, and even female cantor, which is (increasingly less) atypical for a woman whose self-deprecating humor (about the shrillness of her own voice when she needs to be heard), absurdity, and mockery are appreciated (about the shrillness of her own voice), absurd, mocking… typically Jewish for anyone who has ever been fueled by Seinfeld and Joan Rivers.

Sharon Azrieli has clearly carefully crafted this hour-and-a-quarter show with the excellent jazz pianist John Roney, accompanied by dancers and singers Ronnie S Bowman, Daniel Z Miller, Bruce Landry, and Matthew Mucha, who are obvioulsy trained in musical theater.

Clearly, Sharon Azrieli worked hard on her show without taking herself too seriously. Seeing such a cheerful, playful, and at times downright cheeky grandmother strutting her stuff on stage, with her friendly demeanor and undeniably professional performance, can only relax and entertain us, as well as teach us about her very important hybrid culture.

It must also be noted that Sharon Azrieli has an ego firmly grounded in her existence. Confident in her abilities, she still showed a great appetite for the love of the audience that filled this legendary downtown venue.

As I conclude this review, I must admit that I am not very familiar with the classical music career of Sharon Azrieli, who is also known as one of the most important patrons of the music scene in Montreal, Quebec, and Canada. I know little or nothing about her professional past, but I now know about her present and perhaps even her future, if life is kind to her.

Although rigorously integrated, all the references in her show are certainly familiar and predictable… except for the human being to whom we owe this more than honest theatrical effort. Sharon is a creation on legs, a work of art in herself, and that is what makes her show unique.

A Cappella / Choral Music / Modern Classical / Sacred Music

In the Heart of Choral Estonia

by Alain Brunet

On Sunday, February 15th, at Maison symphonique, the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir was highly anticipated, as this world-renowned ensemble had never before presented a recital of this scale in Montreal. Music lovers were not disappointed!

Under the direction of Tõnu Kaljuste, the Choir came to present what it does best: performing contemporary Estonian music with a program featuring composers Arvo Pärt, Veljo Tormis and Evelin Seppar, complemented by choral works by Luciano Berio and Philip Glass.

The first part was devoted to the most famous living composer of sacred music on this small planet, Arvo Pärt, who was discovered in the 80s, notably thanks to the flair of the famous producer and owner of the German label ECM, Manfred Eicher.

We were treated to Pärt’s Magnificat (1989), whose modern characteristics are not immediately apparent, yet which impresses with its restraint. From this perspective, we observe these 24 equally distributed female and male voices, pure lines, with little or no vibrato, serving works that are both rooted in a distant Christian past and in a contemporary world that led Arvo Pärt to a profound mystical introspection, culminating in fervent faith. And since faith can move mountains, it can certainly move musical scores as well, whatever one may think of that faith.

Women’s voices rise, men’s voices reply with bass notes, then the sexes merge in a celestial atmosphere.

Which Was the Son of…, the following piece, was composed in 2005, commissioned by the city of Reykjavik for the Voices of Europe program. This work seems to me the most predictable on the program, an ode to Christ performed in English, with very old-fashioned musical characteristics, based on the call and response mode between female and male sections.

Created in 2007, The Deer’s Cry is inspired by a text by Saint Patrick written in the 5th century. The 5-minute piece is based on the leitmotif “Christ with me,” around which the composer has conceived a mixed choral discourse overlaid by female voices. The restraint of the voices is striking; all that remains is to let oneself be carried away by this musical beauty, devoid of any apparent singularity, which culminates in a superb male-female dialogue.

Dopo la Vittoria, created in 2006, is a 12-minute work clearly more substantial than its predecessors. It’s no coincidence that the choir chose to place it before excerpts from Kanon pokajanen: Kondakion, Ikos, Prayor After the Kanon, a masterful work by Pärt released in 1997. The conceptual depth of these last two works is greater, the worlds explored are more diverse, and one senses a more pronounced touch of modernity—those dissonant lines that deviate from the rules of classical harmony without, however, distorting the traditional character of Arvo Pärt’s style. As my seatmate summarized, it was “perfect simplicity with a little crunch of modernity.”

The second part will be more contemporary. Also of mystical inspiration, The Bishop and the Pagan (1992) by Estonian composer Velijo Tormis (1930-2017) incorporates many more contemporary characteristics, superbly integrated into this ancient-inspired vocal polyphony. The bass parts, for example, employ modern 20th-century techniques.

In my opinion, the surprise work of this program was by Luciano Berio (1925-2003), full of surprises. Like a demonstration, it begins with a soprano singing through a megaphone, opens with textural, atonal, or noise-based interludes, all while following a consonant approach where soloists of all vocal ranges—soprano, alto, tenor, and bass—shine in turn. Powerful! This tells us even more about the vastness of this great Italian composer’s universe.

We will then move on to a work by the Estonian Evelyn Seppar, who will be 40 this year. Iris (2024) is a splendid polyphonic continuum; the orchestral discourse unfolds without interruption or break, undulating elegantly to achieve its goal: to uplift and nourish.

We will conclude with Father Death Blues (1985), an excerpt from Philip Glass’s chamber opera Hydrogen Jukebox. Constructed on the repetition of motifs and phrases akin to a prayer or mantra, this piece is certainly not a landmark in Glass’s oeuvre, but it fits well into this program, not unlike the praise heaped upon The Deer’s Cry and Which was the Son of… in the first half.

Coherence, cohesion, delight, in short, with the added bonus of two generous encores: The Rose of Love, a folk song from Denmark, as well as Innarta Anaanaga by Frederik Elsner.

alt-rock

Taverne Tour | Valentine’s Day Theme

by Simon Gervais

On February 14th, Casa del Popolo hosted a large and enthusiastic crowd for the final night of the Taverne Tour, celebrating Valentine’s Day. The hall, packed to the rafters with a wonderful audience, retained the heat so effectively that the air conditioning struggled to keep up; between performances, the door was thrown wide open to let the temperature drop and allow everyone to catch their breath before the next burst of energy.

The evening kicked off with a joyful set from Pastel Blank, a Victoria-based band fronted by Angus Watt, blending a funk and neo-disco groove with the hallmarks of art rock. The first thing that catches the eye is the bassist and guitarist, both dressed in baggy sand-colored jackets reminiscent of 60s boy bands. These two big guys radiate infectious enthusiasm as they belt out backing vocals on the catchy tunes. The keyboardist evokes the flower power era with her baggy harem pants. Watt, on the other hand, brings to mind the 90s, with his sunglasses and tight T-shirt emblazoned with ‘Love always wins’.

The band’s sound evokes the Jackson Five, Talking Heads, and B-52s alike. Vocally, certain moments remind me of 1950s rock and roll with the use of the famous “hiccuping,” a vocal technique characteristic of the likes of Elvis and Gene Vincent. We’re treated to several decades distilled into a single project that forms a truly compelling whole. The band unleashes energetic grooves, somewhere between angular new wave and offbeat funk. The bass propels the music, the guitars intertwine with precision, and the highly synthetic keyboards punctuate everything. The solos are short but effective, delivering just the right amount of energy before a break that catches us off guard, much to our delight. The band seems to genuinely enjoy playing together, and that enjoyment is effortlessly contagious.

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With Hélène Barbier, the tone becomes more relaxed, almost homespun. A laid-back stage presence, a casual look, a red bass, a flute, slightly off-kilter rhythms with hypnotic, jazzy accents. It’s dissonant in small touches, but sincere, with an engaging Americana feel. It was a pleasant, unpretentious moment.

Beneath the harmonious and incongruous sounds of N NAO, the venue transforms into a veritable dream theater. A significant effort in stage design is evident: additional spotlights, a smoke machine, a fan—all contributing to the most immersive experience possible. Harp, bells, melodica, electronic sounds, and vaporous lighting compose a magical universe where nature and the synthetic coexist in an organically chaotic harmony, an experience that is both disorienting and profoundly immersive. Between pastoral gentleness and sudden rhythmic bursts, the music acts like a spell. Moments of grace follow one another as Naomie bravely advances into the uniquely illuminated crowd. There is also a surprise when Helena Deland takes the stage to participate in an acoustic performance. N NAO’s intention is clear: to explore the diverse facets of this New Language (the title of their recent album) that is music. The finale, inspired by Hubert Aquin, brings everything back to a suspended delicacy.

An evening filled with human warmth and love; perfect for Valentine’s Day.

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Rock

Taverne Tour | An Explosive Finale to The Sound of The Lake with Les Dales Hawerchuck

by Marilyn Bouchard

Energized and ready to go, brothers Sébastien and Sylvain Séguin, accompanied by their bandmates Charles Perron on bass and Pierre Fortin on drums, took to the stage at the Taverne Saint-Sacrement to close out the Taverne Tour. The unique Roberval-based alternative rock band returned to Montreal to deliver a healthy dose of their signature “sound of the lake,” electrifying the audience.

They presented a musical collage composed of songs from their new album, Attaque à cinq, including the excellent Megastar, as well as some must-hear tracks from previous albums, all performed with energy and good humor. The audience was enthusiastic, dancing and chanting along, especially during Commando, J’monte au Lac, and Carnior, before becoming electrifying for the final song, the famous Dale Hawerchuk, which cemented their arrival on the Quebec music scene. The guys generously offered two encores, extending everyone’s enjoyment.

An evening just the way we like them, filled with excellent music and smiles. The guys delivered a performance of rare energy, a show worthy of the best rock stages. None other than our very own Quebecois Offspring for an explosive finale to this Taverne Tour.

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chanson française / disco punk

Taverne Tour | Man and Beast: Bernardino Femminieli

by Loic Minty

Sunglasses on, eyes fixed on the back of the room. “This one’s about my lawyer and my wife.” Microphone pressed against the long hairs of his mustache, he begins to mutter like Gainsbourg after a few vermouths.

Maybe I’m deaf after doing the whole Tavern Tour without earplugs, but I can’t hear a word he’s saying except for a few bits about anal sex and fascism. The connection between the two remains a mystery. There’s no need to understand all the lyrics; his more Italian side—lively and physical—tells the story for them.

Bernardino Femminieli a.k.a. the “break dealer”

He approaches us, removes his sunglasses, and unbuttons his blouse, revealing a striking display of gold chains and curly fur. One moment he dances subtly with sensual grace, the next he tears his heart from his chest. He seems self-conscious about his sins, yet always returns to that mischievous little smile, proud to tell us that in the end, he emerged victorious. The performance keeps us smiling, but it’s only when the music stops that that smile truly explodes into laughter.

Like a drunken uncle, Bernardino confesses to us.

“The stage is therapy, and you’re just as sick as I am being here.”

Each song is a dedication, the fruit of a story gone wrong; a date filled with remorse with Gigi, a microphone stand thrown into the crowd under a cloud of anger. Bernardino Femminieli is a broken man, but honest at least.

“I could get violent tonight,” he says, explaining how the feedback from the poorly adjusted microphone, combined with alcohol, has already pushed his already fragile mental state to the brink of violence. “He was a friend, but you know, I think there are lasting effects.” With a morose look, he returns to his mixing console to launch into a kitschy, upbeat rhythm typical of the 80s. The ridiculous contrast sends the room into fits of laughter. This time he grunts deeply in Italian: “Te quiero.” By constantly alternating between music and stand-up, Bernardino Femminieli has seen his persona transcend mere performance to become, before our very eyes, a true cult figure.

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Behind this facade of dark humor, there is something thoughtful in the character of Bernardino Femminieli. A Dadaist-style critique subtly emerges through his provocative remarks.

His poems take the form of detailed stories that highlight the conflicts of interest within power, police corruption, and the paradoxes of monogamous love. He never preaches directly. He prefers the shaky confession, the overblown sentence, the incongruous image. It is these excesses that expose the hypocrisy of the structures he evokes.

We laugh at him, but we also laugh at what he reveals within us.

Taverne Tour | Bernardino Femminieli sous étude

Alt-punk / no-wave

Taverne Tour | Sharp riffs, cyclical rhythms

by Antoine Morin

image de couverture: That Static

Third night of the Taverne Tour festival. What better way to end than with ear-splitting music? An evening I’d been eagerly anticipating: the Quai des Brumes packed to capacity, several spectators wearing earplugs (highly recommended for this kind of program). The anticipation was palpable.

That Static
The first band takes the stage. I’d seen them before, but this was the first time as a quartet rather than a trio. At 8 p.m., a piercing, shrill Jazzmaster rips through the room, coming from the lead singer. It’s such a distinctive sound that you wonder if it’s really the one he’ll stick with all evening. The arrival of the rest of the band quickly confirms it: despite the apparent chaos, every element is deliberate and clearly audible.

The second guitarist occupies the mid-range, while the bassist plays a Jaguar fitted with flatwound pickups, powerfully bringing out the low frequencies. The whole thing functions as a cohesive unit. Every two songs, the guitarists switch guitars to explore different tunings, often lower or deliberately dissonant. These choices immediately bring Sonic Youth to mind.

The band doesn’t play with dynamics, but rather with rhythms, cyclicity, and aggression: each repetitive motif, each micro-variation captivates and creates a hypnotic groove. The intensity of their playing is such that by the end of the set, the guitarist’s guitar is literally covered in blood. The vocals, very screamed and emotional, contrast with the bassist’s soft voice, adding a tension that reminded me of Soft Play‘s Everything and Nothing.

No official material has been released yet, but the band recently recorded at Holy Mountain Studio in Montreal. On stage, their sound lies somewhere between Unwound, Television, and Sonic Youth, but pushed towards something more tense and sharp, driven by a constant sense of urgency.

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Penny & The Pits
It was the only name I didn’t recognize on the poster. I quickly realized that the lead singer also plays in Motherhood. The band is from the Maritimes, and these were their first Montreal shows under this project. What better night for a first show in the city?

I was struck by the diversity of their musical approach: sometimes two guitars, sometimes just one accompanied by a synthesizer. The band alternates between edgy post-punk or garage punk tracks and longer pieces based on pedal notes, reminiscent of Slint. Lyrics aren’t usually my focus, but that night they clearly referenced social injustices and the realities experienced by women, with the singer also providing context between songs.

Musically, I heard echoes of Deerhoof, Amyl and the Sniffers (who even covered one of their songs), and Thee Oh Sees during the most chaotic moments. A refreshing band, with whom the audience seemed completely connected.

Last Waltzon
Headlining the show, Last Waltzon burst onto the stage with both chaos and confidence, clearly not their first rodeo. Each song felt like it had to be seized on the fly: no downtime, just one track after another without hesitation. The two guitarists shared vocal duties, accentuating the raw and visceral nature of the performance.

A palpable, almost feverish urgency pervades the entire set. Yet, through the sonic deluge, melodic lines and cyclical rhythms constantly pull the listener back to something familiar. This tension reminded me of Brian Eno’s second, more punk-influenced album, Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy), where repetition and experimentation serve both energy and structure. The chaos is controlled, taut, and devastatingly effective. In the venue, every note resonates deep within: you’re gripped, shaken, utterly captivated. Last Waltzon delivers a furious yet focused energy, pushed to the breaking point without ever losing control.

This evening took me back to the festival’s early days. A completely captivated audience, enthralled by the uncompromising noise rock and post-punk delivered by each band. I left with my eardrums ringing, my body still shaking from the raw energy of the groups, and the feeling that every riff and every repetitive rhythm would haunt me for a long time, with an irresistible urge to listen to these tracks again as soon as possible.

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Industrial / New Wave / no-wave

Taverne Tour | Between Tribute and Reinvention

by Laurent Pellerin

My expectations for this show were based on what I could read on the Taverne Tour website: a tribute to Alan Vega and Suicide, a band I’ve been listening to more seriously in recent months. However, I had deliberately refrained from researching the two artists, Lydia Lunch and Marc Hurtado, in order to preserve the surprise, and on that point, I was far from disappointed.

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I entered the hall and was immediately struck by a shock, like being plunged into cold water and having my breath taken away. To call my initial perception of the music being played abrasive would be an understatement. Let’s just say the first sounds that pierced my eardrums were the antithesis of gentleness, tenderness, warmth, and comfort. It was so dissonant with my preconceived notions that I momentarily wondered if I was even in the right venue. I then caught sight of Lydia Lunch in front of her microphones, though I couldn’t hear her voice. I was instead struck by the thunderous soundscapes, which in no time at all bleached my ears and shattered my expectations. Without wasting a moment, I headed towards the front of the stage, skirting dozens of faces delighted to be there.

From my new vantage point, I can distinguish the sound sources responsible for this splendid cacophony. Marc Hurtado is positioned behind a table where he triggers rhythmic sequences and immediately obliterates them with a multitude of signal degradation effects. He is equipped with a microphone into which he unleashes sporadic screams that blend perfectly with the blistering musical backdrop. His screams are sent through a chain of slow delays that lend them a certain claustrophobic quality, as if the signal added in real time could not itself escape this thunderous music. Marc Hurtado is firmly planted, his leather jacket and tinted glasses contributing to his imposing presence in the role of industrial DJ.

In front of him, Lydia Lunch leaned against her two microphones. I noticed that one of them was sending a dry signal, without any noticeable effects, while the other was sending a radically different signal, a kind of pool of reverb and modulation, reminiscent of the kind of effects used on Alan Vega’s voice in Suicide. In my mind, they were dubbed the narrative microphone (without effects) and the prophetic microphone (with effects). The narrative microphone seemed to be the one that captured the most words, a more consistent prose, while the prophetic microphone was used for effects of emphasis and repetition; the effects applied to the latter managed to extract the vocal signal from the opaque mass of sound, making certain words more easily discernible. When she is not at the microphones, Lydia Lunch sits at a round table, at the edge of the stage, on which there is a bottle of Hennessy (which was three-quarters empty before the show even started), her glass which is never quite empty, blank sheets of paper scattered about which she frantically flips through, a satchel and a valiant fan which she uses frequently, to the great delight of some spectators.

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Each piece follows a similar formula: Hurtado begins by unleashing an industrial cacophony to set the rhythm, Lydia Lunch rises from the table and heads towards the microphones to deliver prophetic gestures and words, improvised poetry, and socio-political commentary. Her partner punctuates this narrative with screams that thicken an already saturated soundscape, until Lunch returns to her seat at the table and we are left with the resounding DJ for his final bursts of musical violence.

All in all, I was charmed by these musical and conceptual offerings. The two artists, who undoubtedly have a deep respect for the musical career of Alan Vega (and Martin Rev, the other creative genius of Suicide), choose to use the platform of “tribute” as a springboard to convey new messages and revitalize the art in a fundamentally punk spirit. In other words, I understand that when reviving a band and its music, it’s sometimes necessary to adapt it to avoid it becoming stale and stagnant, to rework it to keep the offering fresh and exhilarating, even nearly fifty years later.

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Hardcore / Pop / punk hardcore

Taverne Tour | Wandering Between Pop and Hardcore

by Laurent Pellerin

image de couverture: Faze

Jane Inc.

O Patro Vys is an intimate and relaxed venue that I had previously visited for a hip-hop/jazz jam session. On this Friday of the Taverne Tour, upon arrival, I could have easily imagined myself walking into a nightclub. The electronic rhythms that resonate through the walls perfectly complement the vocals of Carolyn Bezic, leader of the band Jane Inc.

At first glance, I notice the lineup on stage: two backing vocalists to the right of the singer and a keyboardist to her left. The band occupies the stage widthwise, but I get a sense of emptiness. It doesn’t take much for me to realize that most of the music we’re hearing comes from a separate backing track, which seems to be triggered by the keyboardist at the beginning of each song.

Although I see him playing and Carolyn singing, sometimes even adding electric guitar to certain pieces, the fact that half the people on stage are only intermittently involved prevents me from fully engaging with the performance. In this respect, the noisy crowd around me doesn’t help matters, especially during the softer, more intimate pieces.

Nevertheless, I appreciate the stage presence of this singer who seems to stop at nothing to deliver a good show. The band even returns to an energetic repertoire for the last few songs, where the audience becomes more engaged. The singer finishes her set by going down into the crowd, sparking brief dance-offs with the most enthusiastic fans in the front rows.

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CEASE

The Toscadura venue is deeper and wider than the previous one. The vastness of the space is nonetheless filled with fellow fans, reminding me of the exhilarating shows of my teenage years. The punk and metal community has this knack for imbuing any performance venue with a sense of familiar security.

I enter right at the beginning of the set. If the silences between Jane Inc.’s songs were filled by the crowd at O Patro Vys, here they’re filled by the screeching feedback of the guitar and bass. Four musicians, monolithic amps at the back of the stage; I’m ready to receive what CEASE has to offer. Without wasting any time, the guitarist unleashes a fast riff before we’re hit by a violent wall of sound. The musicians are busy with their instruments while the singer oscillates between displays of intense aggression and exhaustion. The next twenty minutes unfold in this way: the band blends blast beats and heavy riffs, the interplay of tension and release achieved through frequent breaks of a few seconds where we’re deprived of tempo, pulled between these moments of weightlessness and the plunge back into the cacophony.

Faze

The musicians don’t even need to play for me to sense their confidence. I watch them calmly set up their equipment; the drummer makes numerous micro-adjustments to his snare and toms. At first, I can’t quite tell who will take the microphone, which, for me, is an excellent sign in this kind of musical context.

After a few minutes, the singer steps forward and asks the technician to dim the stage lights. He opens his eyes wide, smiles, and gives a thumbs-up.

The drummer launches into a tom ostinato as the guitars wail in feedback, a typically hardcore introduction that inevitably raises the audience’s heart rate. The excitement reaches its peak when the singer lets out a scream, and the music floods the room like an explosion. Faze’s « concrete » side is immediately revealed. The singer writhes in frenzied jubilation, like a leech that’s been salted, barely managing to grab the microphone to unleash a cascade of echoes with his rhythmic howls. The band’s stage experience shines through in the naturalness of this commotion: the musicians’ proprioception is impressive, each of them constantly swaying without ever colliding with one another.

The famous trombone is quickly unveiled, played for thirty seconds before being abandoned to the crowd. At times, it reappears, carried by a body that rises above the arms of the crowd.

Their set is generous in intensity, inviting us body and soul to join the happy clamor of this second evening of the Taverne Tour.

I leave Toscadura feeling sated, as if purified. I have a smile plastered on my lips and my ears ringing.

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Minimalist

Danger : Delicate Glass

by Frédéric Cardin

In a fairly full hall at the Montreal Conservatory, the aura of Philip Glass permeated the audience present. We were eager to be there to hear the last four quartets of the famous composer. All the more famous because he recently gave Donald Trump the cold shoulder by cancelling the premiere of his fifteenth symphony at the Kennedy Center in Washington. In reaction to the addition of the name ‘’Trump’’ before that of the former Democratic president. Bravo. Nothing more to say about that.

Unusual Glass

The last quartets by Glass are still quite recent and have rarely been played to date, at least here. The Molinari Quartet is preparing them for recording next August. They will be added to the others, already digitally recorded, and will form a complete set that we look forward to hear.

These latest quartets, from Glass’s chamber music perspective, are innovative, even often astonishing. You hear harmonies that were never really explored in the first five, better known ones. Melodies are sometimes distant from the sumptuous fullness of the usual Glass style, and architectural support is different from the repetitive cellular motivism to which the American composer has accustomed us (for example, in Quartet No. 9, King Lear. See further down).

They are, therefore, dangerous for interpreters because they are not “intuitive.” Traps are set everywhere, and it is easy to break their narrative and discursive strength. It often relies on very little, on tiny details that must be perfectly rendered, at the risk of seeing the entire structure crack.

The Beethoven effect

I dare to compare these quartets to Beethoven’s last ones. For Philip Glass, they might have this significance. Of course, not in terms of style and philosophical and spiritual aspirations, but certainly for the place they seem to give to the renewal of the master’s technical language. To the seeds planted for the next generation of Minimalists who will claim his school of thought.

The Bent Suite, taken from a film score, paints sober landscapes that accompany the story of the persecution of homosexuals under the Nazi regime. The score features several passages for solo, duo, and trio. A kind of intimacy of sounds, then. A refined aspect that requires careful control of sound projection, at the risk of sounding harsh. It happened a bit yesterday, in the fourth movement, for example.

Quartet Satz (Movement in German) was written for the Fifty for the Future project by the Kronos Quartet (for which Montrealer Nicole Lizée was also involved). It is a piece of barely 8 minutes, in the shape of an arch that starts in calm, swells with sound intensity before returning to tranquillity. Beautiful, effective, perfectly rendered by the Molinari.

Renewed Classicism

The String Quartet No. 8 is, they say, a “return to Glassian classicism.” My ears still tell me that it dares very unusual melodic detours for the composer. This quartet is a minefield that constantly tests the ensemble’s accuracy and the rhythmic cohesion of a group. On arpeggios with sharper lines and narrower note intervals, melodies or a dangerously chromatic counterpoint are superimposed. The final movement imposes exchanges of arpeggiated ascents and descents that are very difficult to coordinate between the instruments, at least to ensure the ideal fluidity. The Molinari came out of it with a few scrapes, but without losing its vitality, though.

A masterpiece and a legacy called Lear

The program concluded with the masterful String Quartet No. 9 King Lear. It was commissioned by Glass in 2022 to accompany a production of Shakespeare’s King Lear in New York. The composer delved deeply into the story of this mad king, who died in a storm with his daughters, to write a score that is divided into substantial pieces that return and metamorphose throughout the journey. Different from the usual method, then. In general, Glass reuses repeated motifs, short and almost atomic in their individual simplicity. Here, the arpeggios are certainly present, but embedded in larger musical pieces, each carrying its own personality, atmosphere, and character. These movements are reused alternately with others, then transformed. As if the Glassian architecture here were formed not from unique bricks, but from prefabricated blocks.

Above all, this quartet presents striking ideas, such as the rumbling cello, which seems to prepare for the final storm, or the strokes with the tip of the bow creating a frosty effect, like cracking ice. The King Lear Quartet is a masterpiece. If this were to prove to be Philip Glass’s musical testament for the quartet, it would be a memorable one that will be played often and for a long time.

The Molinari excelled here and mastered the deployment of this rich and very touching construction.

Coming next

There are still several months before the recording, which leaves enough time to make some adjustments and fine-tune everything. What is certain is that the emotional involvement is there, and so is the conviction.

Let’s note that the usual violist, Cynthia Blanchon, who just gave birth (congratulations!!), was replaced on short notice and superbly by Sebastian Gonzalez Mora, a musician with the Montreal symphony.

Upcoming concerts by the Molinari Quartet:

March 29, 2026 (Glass and others) – Molinari Foundation

May 28, 29, 30, 2026 (Shostakovich) – Conservatory Hall

Post-Punk

Taverne Tour 2026 | A Journey into the Depths of La Sottarenea

by Simon Gervais

On February 13, my Taverne Tour continues under the banner of post-punk at La Sotterenea, the quintessential underground venue. The space lends itself perfectly to music that works through tension, repetition, and shadowy zones. I step into this troglodytic environment just as the dark, low-end frequencies of Bonnie Trash begin to resonate.

Formed in 2013 by twin sisters Emmalia and Sarafina Bortolon-Vettor, the all-female quartet delivers heavy riffs blending post-punk, goth rock, and doom. The singer recites her lyrics in a deep voice that chills you to the bone. She cuts a striking figure: shaved head, leather clothes, tattoos. Chin raised, she locks into a defiant stare. Their horrorgaze songs probe the horror lurking within the everyday—diffuse violence and ordinary mortality. A lucid darkness and singular heaviness give the performance an irresistible pull.

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We step outside for some air, then head back underground for Jessica93. After a slightly laborious soundcheck, Geoffroy Laporte jokes, “We’re a bunch of screw-ups, it just takes a bit more time.”

Alone on stage, the French artist launches a track that feels like a rock-infused drum machine. Using a loop pedal, he layers in a thick bass line that reinforces the intoxicating pounding of the programmed drums, then tears into a searing guitar for frenzied solos. Long hair falling over his face, Nike sneakers, Adidas track pants—none of it detracts from Jessica93’s resolutely hard-edged presence. You can sense shoegaze and grunge influences, with touches of desert punk.

The lyrics are muttered in French—at times shy, at times strikingly intentional. “It’s a love song called La colline du crack,” he says at one point. The loops, distortion, and relentless pounding all come together in a DIY, noise-driven result that feels almost post-apocalyptic. It’s impressive to see a single man carry the weight of such an experimental project.

This second night of Taverne Tour at La Sotterenea offered stunning discoveries within the endless underground spaces of our souls..

Alt-punk / Garage Punk / Grind Punk

Taverne Tour | The Punks Take Over

by Loic Minty

CEASE: A Necessary Violence

The powerviolence group CEASE from the steel town of Hamilton, Ontario, are one of programmer Rose Cormier’s golden nuggets. CEASE have all the cards. The singer steps on stage already looking furious, an emotion that only increases in intensity. Deafening feedback tears through the room before the drummer and bassist tumble into violent convulsion. Immediate sensory overload. The singer, boiling inside, lets out steam. Face flushed red, eyes on the verge of collapse, muscles straining from the neck. Screams you feel in your bones.

Though the words are barely audible, the breakdowns carry a kind of mantra. “I can’t afford it.”

Reminder that a two-bedroom is $2,148 and a one-bedroom is $1,809, according to today’s Hamilton Spectator (2025).

In Hamilton, and in Canada at large, the unaffordability of basic needs is becoming a form of complex trauma, one that now feels alarmingly understated. CEASE teaches us to say no when it hurts. They remind us that no one has ever won their rights by politely asking for them. Tension unravels into exasperation. Violence erupts like pus from an old wound.

“We’d really appreciate it if you could walk from one side to the other like a caveman.”

Among the culprits is a stringy guy sprinting back and forth, nearly putting a hole in the wall. The 4’11” girl in front of me is the only barrier between them and the camera I borrowed. She has a huge smile on her face.

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La Sottarenea: The Terrorizing Act of Mickey Dagger

Mickey Dagger is an absolute nut job. Even among the most rugged and frightening stage personalities we have seen so far, there is usually some separation, some self-awareness that keeps them sane when they go home at night. With Mickey Dagger, it is hard to tell whether it is an act at all or whether he is doing this out of pure necessity to relieve his tormented soul.

He sings over a Martin Rev–inspired rhythm machine, while two guitarists and two saxophonists drone at psychedelic velocities. With a long slapback delay on his voice, he slips into a stream of narration, gesturing through a violent scene of betrayal before crashing to the floor in an endless scream, his eyes never losing focus.

The melodrama borders on comical, made even funnier by his total commitment to it. The longer it goes on, the more I find myself breaking into a smile at Mickey Dagger’s theatrics. It could have felt excessive, but the music, which is simply incredible, holds everything together. The band executes this twisted atmosphere of experimental industrial punk to perfection, while somehow keeping the form accessible. The songs evolve chaotically but return to strong motifs, with Mickey’s impressive vocal range cutting cleanly through the noise. It ends with Mickey Dagger kneeling with his back to the crowd, as if being arrested, before miming shooting himself in the head. “You’ll never get me.”

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Sala Rosa: Quebec’s Wild Child

It would be impossible to talk about last night without mentioning Enfant Sauvage’s unforgettable, possibly historic, concert at Sala Rosa. In a place and time when Québécois identity is under scrutiny, Enfants Sauvages are, as their name suggests, untamed. With Enfants Sauvages, there is no shame in taking pride in where you are from. “On vient de Saint-Roch tabarnak!” (
we are from Saint-Roch”). Wearing a one-piece denim overall with a bedazzled fleur-de-lys on the back, the singer showed us exactly where to put that inhibition.

With veterans of the scene on stage, the music dipped and dove through breakdowns and blistering tempos that pushed past their limits until even one guitarist’s hand started bleeding. “Pas besoin de guénilles esti, quelqu’un pitchez-nous votre chandail!” (“No need for a rag, someone throw a t-shirt up here!”). In an instant, five shirts were thrown onto the stage to serve as makeshift bandages. Their riffs feel indebted to the riot grrrl movement, but with something heavier rising from hardcore, a kind of feral, animalistic grunge.

But the punk-garage-hardcore band is about more than music. An entire theatrical piece unfolds alongside the lyrics. Two twins in blunt bob wigs strip at opposite ends of the stage, illuminated by flashlights held by hooded figures. The whole scene feels like a Pussy Riot flash mob.

They chew apples and spit them into the crowd, fling paper planes toward the bar, and pretend to call God on a landline. Between trying to keep up with the spectacle, the bloodied guitarist shredding relentlessly, and the singer nearing full-frontal nudity as she unbuttons her one-piece, Sala Rosa transforms into a madhouse of poetic chaos. Leaving feels like falling from a cloud.

Whatever may happen tomorrow, last night at Taverne Tour continues to vibrate into today. The festival feels bigger this year, with nearly every venue overflowing and the music surging through the city like an open current, each room humming with urgency, sweat, and the thrill of something that refuses to be contained. Let’s call it punk.

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