Starmania: The Temptation to Exist

by Claude André

In its latest incarnation, the hybrid postmodern rock opera created by Michel Berger and Luc Plamondon in 1978 is given a new lease of life thanks to a new reading of the libretto and a breathtaking staging.

At a time when bombs are raining down and terrorist attacks are multiplying around the world, when a character shaped by TV could once again become “president of the universe” with the help of a social networking tycoon, Starman’s dystopia is truer than ever.

Add to this a group of idle, violent zealots, a populace enslaved by fake news and nihilistic outsiders asking existential questions about the meaning of life and unconventional love, and you have all the ingredients that crystallize today’s society, represented by the intersecting destinies of eight characters, seven of whom will die in a metropolis of skyscrapers where people are obsessed with celebrity and radicalism.

“To propose a readable narrative, beyond the autonomous life that the songs have acquired in 40 years of success (…). To update this booklet, which is certainly visionary, but still very meaningful today, by working on the order of the songs, the transitions, and by bringing back a character who has disappeared since the first version (the guru)…”.

This was the aim of director Thomas Joly, the man behind the grandiose and provocative opening of the Paris Olympics, using a multimedia approach sometimes inspired by direct cinema.

In order to capture the emotional essence of the work, before the dazzling success of the various versions diluted it, whether by a note here or a tempo there, this new version was inspired by the handwritten score of the late Michel Bernholc, arranger of the original version.

From a visual point of view, thanks to ambitious machinery, flamboyant costumes and sophisticated, captivating light architecture, most of the songs that have accompanied our lives for decades are sublimated.

Most of them? It has to be said, some of the pieces seem duller than others, given the bouquet of immortals in the work, which can slow down the rhythm.

So, if the old-school author of these lines was sometimes looking with a certain nostalgia for Balavoine’s ardor in Quand on arrive en ville, or Dubois’ charismatic, mocking posture in the famous Blues du businessman, or Fabienne Thibault’s infectious despair in Le monde est stone, we have to face facts: today’s performers have more than held their own, and will no doubt leave their mark on younger generations just as their predecessors did, although we might have hoped for a greater tonal variety in the choice of female voices.

Despite this drawback and the acoustics that caused some of the rhymes to shatter in the arena that was originally Place Bell, this generous show, which lasts a good three hours (including a twenty-minute intermission) and features some thirty singers, dancers and musicians, proves in our eyes to be the ultimate version of this now cult rock opera.

Photo Credit: Anthony Dorfmann

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Indigenous peoples

International First People Festival – IA, Maori Soul Pop in The Rain

by Alain Brunet

From New Zealand, traditional Maori instruments are integrated into an embodied soul pop. The band’s leaders have clearly thought through their hybridization, as laymen are likely to feel the pop spirit before they discover the Maori flavors.

Māori music collective IA blends taonga pūoro and electronic pop to generate a singular sound. The singer expresses himself mainly in the indigenous language and also in English, reflecting real life in the homeland.

We’re looking at true pros of soul/R&B-tinged pop, with the warm, righteous voice of the soloist (Reti Hedley), the harmonies of the keyboards and the groove of the bass (Moetu Smith) telling no lies. Traditional instruments, especially flutes and percussion, become the Maori ornaments of a global pop whose basic referents are familiar to anyone even remotely connected on this planet. The key to IA’s success lies in this question: should we really be seeking a balance between local and global culture? At IA, this seems to be a sincere and legitimate preoccupation to achieve that artistic identity called indigenous soul music. Based in Waikato, the group is dedicated to highlighting taonga pūoro and Te Reo Māori in its music.

Once again, it’s a shame that the generous remnants of Storm Debby have begun to fall on Montreal, as IA could have generated a lot more interest among music lovers curious to see where Aboriginal pop is at in Oceania.

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Indigenous peoples

International First People Festival | Manawan Hip-Hop Nation

by Alain Brunet

Yann Ottawa aka The RZMN, from the Atikamekw Nation of Manawan, demands our full attention, as he teaches us about the life of his nation, both private and public. With his brother, he raps and sings in Atikamekw, using dramatic chords to coat his flow and melodic lines, sometimes filtered through autotune, and inclined to melancholy. Music runs in the Ottawa family: his father plays guitar and his brother enjoys percussion.

Obviously, he’s more inclined to hip-hop, reggaeton and rap keb, since he expresses himself a lot in French – and also in his mother tongue. In 2022, Yann Ottawa and his brothers released their first mixtape, Bigman Recordz, Vol. 1.

Unfortunately, it was raining on this Thursday evening, and RZMN and his colleagues performed on the main stage of the Place des Festivals in front of a plantation of umbrellas. Under the umbrellas, however, the humans remained captivated. In front of the umbrellas, certainly, there was mastered rap, there were hooks, there were choruses, there were real stories about real life on Atikamekw land, there was real beatmaking, there was a real good aboriginal rap show that we’ll have to see again and again.

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Avant-Rock / Prog Rock

International First People Festival | Subhira Quinteto, Contemporary Avant-Rock and Mapuche Culture

by Alain Brunet

Subhira Quinteto is said to be one of Chile’s most innovative ensembles. The group has been in existence for over a quarter of a century and enjoys a fine international reputation, touring the world music circuit. Clearly, Montreal was not yet among the cities they had conquered, so it was time to catch up on the Place des Festivals, on Wednesday August 6.

Their compositions integrate indigenous music with a kind of contemporary avant-rock, quite savvy in its rhythmic choices (almost always composed measures) and its prog rock or math rock aesthetic matched with contemporary Western music. Their leader, keyboardist and composer, Subhira (Rodrigo Cepeda), is an award-winning professor of composition at the École de Musique Moderne and runs the Mundovivo label. The line-up is made up of drummer Emai Cepeda, violinist Danka Villanueva and flutist Ema Morales, not to mention cellist Juan Angel Muñoz, who was principal cellist of the Santiago Philharmonic Orchestra, has played as a guest with countless national and international artists and orchestras, and will be joined for much of the concert by Khano Llaitul Fernández, an external member of the Chilean team.

This indigenous Mapuche artist and activist is said to have done remarkable work as an advisor on indigenous themes, education, dramaturgy, Mapuche musicology, and the dissemination of art, culture and indigenous rights. You can hear him declaiming, shaking bells and blowing traditional instruments. This is a fine execution of concepts and cultural updates typical of the most open-minded artists of the 70s, 80s and 90s.

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Osheaga: Chappell Roan Could Literally Kill Us All and Get Away With It

by Lyle Hendriks

I think Chappell Roan is about to become one of the most successful musicians of all time, and this summer will be the point we look back on as the moment she caught fire. I arrived at the mainstage a full 30 minutes before Roan’s scheduled start time, and was surprised to find myself completely and utterly late. Before long, I was lost in the throng, some 30,000 people all pushing towards the front, cheering at nothing as the electric charge of Roan’s imminent appearance climbed and climbed.

When Chappell Roan and the band took the stage, the sound was deafening. Dressed in a stunning, drag-inspired fairy outfit, Roan wears the pop-star persona as if she was made for it. And from the very first song to the last, 30,000 people screamed every single word. Cleverly, most of the straightforward lyrics were displayed behind her, which means that I—as someone who had never listened to an entire Chappell Roan song in my life—can’t stop singing the hooks to “Good Luck, Babe!” and “HOT TO GO!” for the life of me.

We were like lemmings headed for the cliff. Again and again, people collapsed from the heat around me. One person next to me spent more than five minutes on the ground before finally getting medical attention. When she got back to her feet, I assumed she’d be headed to the exit. But no—she got right back to dancing and screaming her heart out. We might expect this lack of self-preservation from someone who’s been wearing a diaper at the front of the crowd for the last four hours, but we were nowhere near the stage. The show was simply that unmissable.

It’s hard to describe what makes Chappell Roan so completely phenomenal. Perhaps it’s her incessant energy as she bounces, crawls, and glides across the stage. Perhaps it’s the mostly unsung but utterly exceptional skills of her band. Maybe it’s Roan’s electrifying singing voice soaring over some of the most irresistible pop songs I’ve ever heard. She’s a sensation, a natural-born icon, and she put on one of the best shows I’ve seen in my entire life.

By now, I think we’re all ready to say goodbye to the last generation of pop stars. We’ve had more than enough millennial acts cram their boring songs about stupid men down our throats. If the crowd at Chappell Roan’s Osheaga set is anything to go by (and it most definitely is), we’re ready for hot tracks from weird queers. We’re ready for something more real, something in sync with the discordant world we live in, something that reaches out, grabs us by the throats, and makes a mess of us. “Lightning in a bottle” doesn’t even begin to describe Chappell Roan. She’s a nuclear bomb in a Birkin bag, and I can’t wait to see where she touches down next.

Photos By Tim Snow

Osheaga, Day 3 | DIIV, shoegaze and post-punk in the rules of art

by Alain Brunet

DIIV, a Brooklyn band that has been around since the early 2010s, could be said to be in the second division. Prized by connoisseurs of shoegaze and post-punk, DIIV performed at Osheaga and kept us glued to the Verte stage.

Nothing new under the blazing sun, perhaps, but it is always a pleasure to discover late in the day a group that has fully mastered its references and is capable of telling a 50-minute story without any loss of interest on the part of the audience.

There is no real frontman in this formation, the singer and bassist Caulin Caufield does his job quite adequately but clearly does not have the ascendancy of his colleague Zachary Cole Smith. Obviously, the guitarist is the main designer of the music proposed here, the central musician of this American quartet accompanied by two guitars, a bass, a drum kit and electronic complements that enrich the textures generated by the guitar pedals.

It’s heavy, it’s textured, it’s hypnotic, it’s unkempt like its leader. And it’s really good. We suggest you listen to the recent album released by Fantasy Records, Frog in Boiling Water. Let’s not see any contempt for Quebec’s amphibians here.

Photo by Benoit Rousseau

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Osheaga Day 2 : Every Dog Has Its (Green) Day

by Lyle Hendriks

First and foremost, let me declare my respect and fealty for Green Day. As one of the all-time greatest bands to walk the Earth, there’s no denying the influence and importance of their early catalogue—a fact that they seem keenly aware of, considering their tour for their new album, Saviors (Reprise Records, 2024) is actually just them playing Dookie (Reprise Records, 1994) and American Idiot (Reprise Records, 2004) in their entirety.

Green Day’s new music is not good. It’s a washed-out imitation, trying to recapture not only the glory days of the band itself, but also anything even remotely popular from the pop-punk and alt-rock world in the last 20 years. And again, it seems that Green Day is completely aware of this fact, playing only a handful of songs off their new release, and then diving into an hour and a half of songs that we’ve all heard a million times.

Is it cool to see “Holiday” and “Basket Case” live? Sure, kind of. They sound exactly like they do on the recordings. Billie Joe Armstrong’s stage banter is well-rehearsed and devoid of surprise (except for when he forgets where he is in the song and asks what verse he’s on). Mike Dirnt keeps it locked down, playing root notes on bass like someone who makes a million dollars per year playing root notes on bass. Drummer Tré Cool, for all of his skill, resembles a Weekend at Bernies-esque meat puppet being controlled by a grip backstage.

So what’s my problem? Green Day has atrophied around these ancient songs like a brittle old muscle, becoming aging, Botox-bloated men in denial who refuse to let any new life into their performance, only bothering to release a new album in order to have an excuse to play their old ones. For a band who made their mark as rebels, outlaws, and societal outcasts, I can’t pick out a single thing that’s now punk about Green Day. Between songs, I thought Armstrong might finally come out and say something that meant something. Perhaps he’d use his bulletproof status and inconceivably massive platform to speak out on the injustice that they claim to be against.

But what do we get instead? Lame platitudes about ignoring the “propaganda” and “focusing on the music and being together.” Spineless, empty rhetoric like this is insulting, and he would have been better off telling the truth: “I don’t give a fuck about anything except making money off of you suckers.”

After being treated to the incredible Mannequin Pussy (who spent much of their precious set time ferociously attacking the church, rich white men, and the Palestinian genocide) the day prior, I couldn’t have been less impressed with the substance behind Green Day’s performance. With all due respect to the incredible achievements of Green Day over the past 37 years, it’s time for these old men to step aside.

Photos by Tim Snow

Osheaga Day 2: No Waves Steps Up

by Lyle Hendriks

If you ask me, Osheaga should be packed to the brim with local bands. And while I have my problems with this year’s lineup, there was one act they got right: Montreal-based, surf punk trio No Waves.

Fast, thrashy, yet fun, No Waves has incredible energy onstage, more than filling the space of the truly cavernous Osheaga stage. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen a band that was more stoked to be playing, and the energy quickly became infectious as we watched guitarist/vocalist Angel Parra Vela sprint across the stage, climb onto the monitors, and pause to give bassist Cyril Harvin Musgni a kiss on the cheek. All the while, we were kept on track by thunderous yet oddly eloquent percussion from drummer Sam Sussman.

For some seven years, it’s just been these three—a group formed as teenagers and forged over the course of countless basement gigs and illegal DIY shows. It’s this raw exuberance that makes No Waves so captivating to watch. There’s an ease and familiarity to every motion, an undeniable complicité between this tight ensemble that makes it look easy.

So when Sam is screaming into the mic while playing a whirlwind beat, when Cyril stands and delivers a nasty bassline as if he were hardwired to do it, when Angel leaps across the stage like a bat out of hell—it doesn’t feel like they’re putting on a show, or focusing on hitting the right notes. They’ve mastered their sound to the point that they can deliver, raw, unfiltered expression, using their instruments, voices, and bodies as conduits to deliver a live-fire demonstration that you can’t look away from.

It’s a privilege to watch established, world-famous acts on the Osheaga stage. But to me, it’s even better to watch one of Montreal’s hardest-working bands step up to the plate and absolutely smash it, bringing all the energy of their infamously sweaty, moshy gigs to the institution of the biggest festival in the country. It’s been a long time coming, but this is still just the beginning for No Waves.

Photos By Benoit Rousseau

Osheaga Day 3: Bladee Leaves Us Drained

by Lyle Hendriks

Everyone has a favourite artist who’s a little hard to explain to the uninitiated. But I don’t know if any fanbase experiences this problem quite like Drainers, the utterly feral fanbase of Swedish multi-hyphenated creator Bladee.

The show got off on a weird foot, to say the least. Following a truly bizarre shitshow of a set from Mariah the Scientist, Bladee opened the set with tracks from their newest album, Cold Visions (Trash Island, 2024), which leans more on the abstract side with its glitchy, early Youtube-esque instrumentals and Bladee’s signature off-kilter rapping style. They stayed this course for the first few numbers as scores of people left the crowd, shaking their heads and grimacing as though they’d just stepped in something. But simultaneously, the core group of Drainers near the front were being whipped into a frenzy, smashing together as though they weren’t all fighting for their lives in apocalyptic heat.

A few songs in, Bladee hit their stride, throwing it back to some of their older songs from previous albums with disgusting beats and scream-worthy hooks, yet never losing the sensitive, almost meek side that makes Bladee such a fascinating artist. As I took it all in, I realized that this show was not meant to be for everyone—Bladee’s entire performance was for the 60 or so Drainers in the front and no one else. It was for the people who love this weird brand of socially awkward, introverted, Scandinavian drug-dealing music—something that Bladee has a complete and total monopoly on.

Despite being a lone figure on the expansive void of the Osheaga stage, Bladee had no trouble taking up space, skulking about the space and conjuring a fever pitch in the crowd from thin air. Having now seen them live for the first time, I believe that Bladee may be a witch from the future, sent back to deliver us from the tired, macho bullshit that plagues rap as an art form today.

Photos by Benoit Rousseau

Osheaga, Day 3 | Briston Maroney, when shining seems easy

by Jacob Langlois-Pelletier

If British singer Olivia Dean was my favorite on Saturday, there is no doubt in my eyes that American Briston Maroney was my favorite on Sunday.

A native of Knoxville, Tennessee, the singer-songwriter charmed the curious crowd gathered near the two largest stages, a crowd that grew larger and larger as his performance progressed. There is no better indicator of the quality of the show offered.

When you hear Maroney’s proposal, you hear Arctic Monkeys, Bob Dylan, The 1975 and a bit of Neil Young. It’s quite eclectic and yet it’s coherent and it rocks. Add to this indie-rock/pop/soul sound a rockstar attitude and you have Briston Maroney.

Dressed in a skirt and guitar in hand, the singer started off strong with his most energetic songs and his wild riffs were clearly felt. “I flew out at 4 am after my performance at Lollapalooza. I feel like a hamster rolling around in his exercise ball and he’s on cocaine,” he said. This madness was welcomed with open arms by the festival-goers, from start to finish.

Halfway through, Maroney took his foot off the gas to serve up some of his quieter numbers like the gorgeous ballad Fool’s Gold. In my humble opinion, it’s in these moments that the composer is at his best and most vulnerable. His voice conveys emotion with sensitivity and authenticity.

Towards the end of his Osheaga stint, Briston Maroney brought up a young female fan with him, holding up a sign that read, “Can I come sing June with you?” To everyone’s surprise, the 26-year-old and the young woman performed a great duet. What a moment!

BM’s first releases date back to 2017 and he already has two albums under his belt; I have to admit that I’m late to the party. Better late than never. I’ll be following the young star’s next projects closely.

Crédit photo: Tim Snow

amapiano / Soul/R&B

Osheaga, Day 3 | Tyla, Tigress on the Loose

by Jacob Langlois-Pelletier

Judging by the size of the crowd eager to see her arrival early in the evening, the presence of South African sensation Tyla was one of the most anticipated events of the weekend. The new princess (let’s wait before proclaiming her queen) of amapiano and R&B certainly did not disappoint with a fiery performance where dancing and sensuality were the order of the day. And to think that she is only 22 years old…

It was on a giant tiger that the young singer made her entrance, to the cries of her admirers. To date, Tyla has only one project in her discography, her self-titled album. Needless to say, it was mostly material from her project released last March that she offered to festival-goers.

On stage, Tyla and her troupe performed a lot of dance moves, as if it wasn’t hot enough on this scorching day. The crowd watched her every move and applauded her every hip movement. “This is my first time here. I’ll remember it for the rest of my life,” she said between two songs, pleasantly surprised by the warm welcome.

Her rendition of No.1 , an excellent collaboration with Nigeria’s Tems, was vocally brilliant, as was her entire set. Tyla has been riding the wave of Water for several months, a song that propelled her internationally, and it’s this song that she will have reserved for the very end. A fiery finale for a high-quality R&B performance.

Crédit photo: Benoit Rousseau

Osheaga, Day 3 | Elyanna, Arab-Latin Pop, Very Popular

by Alain Brunet

A transplant to San Diego since adolescence, Elyanna was born in Nazareth like the one you know. Her origins are nevertheless distinct: Palestinian (of Christian faith) and also Chilean, hence these Latino-Oriental hybridizations adapted to the pop culture of 2024. Needless to say, the hard core of her fans shares these cultural roots, national flags in support.

Her appearance and face are reminiscent of Shakira, a Colombian superstar with Lebanese roots on her father’s side. But the approach here is much more pronounced on the oriental side: Elyanna exhibits her Arab culture without complex, she directly evokes traditional outfits, traditional dances, traditional rhythms, traditional melodies, traditional instrumentation (oud, derbouka, etc.). She adapts it all to a semi-electro and semi-instrumental pop that is most effective.

She enriches it all with reggaeton, EDM and soul/R&B which allows her to shine in the East as well as in the West, singing in dialectal Arabic at Coachella or sharing the stage with stars from the Levant and the Maghreb.

Well-versed in Arab culture, dancers contribute to the wow effect generated by Elyanna, duly evoking the joys and (especially) the sufferings of Palestinians experienced at the time of her Montreal show. And magnifying the strong character embodied by their increasingly popular employer on the pop planet.

crédit photo: Benoît Rousseau pour Osheaga

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