Concert review

Bedroom Pop / Indie Rock / post-grunge / Shoegaze

Pop MTL 2026 I Sasha Cay Crushes Divan Orange

by Stephan Boissonneault

“The last time I was here, I don’t think I was legally allowed. I was like 17,” Sasha Khalimonova (the lead singer and rhythm guitarist of Sasha Cay) laughs while telling a packed room in Divan Orange. This venue, which was forced to close down in 2018 and signalled a wave of gentrification issues on Montreal’s St. Laurent and the Plateau, has reopened for the 25th anniversary of Pop Montreal. “It’s a dream come true to play here and play with Plants and Animals.”

Before the home town indie heroes, Plants and Animals tooks the stage, Sasha Cay (made up of Khalimonova, Rhys Climenhage on drums, Clay Middleton on lead guitar, and Owen Saar on bass) guided the crowd through some moody, 80s-tinged bedroom pop with a healthy dash of shoegaze. At points it felt very Metric if there was more of a Kate Bush influence, but Sasha Cay’s vocals also jump between grungey delay to a bit of auto tune. There was lots of feedback throughout the show, coming from Sasha’s mic, but it kind of added to the alluring quality of some of the droning guitar waves and murky lyrics. I believe they played the fuzzy atmospheric and doom-rocky “Barrel,” the latest single the group dropped early this year.

I can’t really tell you any names of other songs, because most of the set was from a surprise album that will be announced at some point. “It’s a surprise because we are I’m you now,” Khalimonova laughed. One moment that will stay in my mind was a loud wall-of-sound juncture where all of the guitar players crowded around the drums and hung their instruments low by the kick drum, almost as if they were absorbing energy from some arcane ritual. I’ll be waiting for that new album, oh yes.

Alternative Rock / Indie Rock / Shoegaze

Pop MTL 2026 I Ribbon Skirt Opens the Festival at Marché Des Possibles

by Stephan Boissonneault

Hundreds gathered under the bridge of Mario Park to celebrate the 25th year of Pop Montréal. Ribbon Skirt, the local post-indie rock stooges, were directly under the bridge on a makeshift stage, urging the crowd to move closer between tracks. The vibe was very DIY Marché Des Possibles—which used to be near the train tracks—but the event had a bit more legs due to it being an official Pop Montréal showcase/ opening to the whole festival.

While attendees tasted twisted meats and drank some beers under the fall sun, Ribbon Skirt played songs from last year’s Polaris-shortlisted album, Bite Down. They also had a few more punky numbers from the raw Pensacola EP. I truly wish there was one more speaker situated away from the stage, because Ribbon Skirt’s ethereal post-punk was kind of swallowed up by the brutalist, concrete structure they were playing under. They also seemed a bit perturbed—I got the sense that vocalist and rhythm guitarist, Tashiina Buswa, couldnt hear her vocals for a few songs like “Off Rez.” Lead guitarist, Billy Riley, dressed in sporadic puprles and a skirt also seemed less jumpy than other shows I’ve seen, but maybe the band was just hyper focused on the set.

The farther you got from the stage, the quieter the sound became, especially as the crowd grew and grew, featuring a who’s who of Montreal music scene alumni.

The sound battles at outside DIY shows are known, but I know for a fact that other DIY shows have taken the risk and had higher decibels in that exact space. And this is Pop Montréal. The band, especially this one, should have been heard no matter where you were.

Photos by Stephan Boissonneault

Publicité panam
Indie Rock / jangle pop / SLACKER

Pop MTL 2026 I Bracelet is the Band other Bands Tell other Bands About

by Stephan Boissonneault

Bracelet has been a band on my need-to-see live show list for quite some time. They’ve been around for two years or so, but I never had the pleasure due to a metric-fucked cavalcade of other live band shows I’ve needed to attend as a music journo in Montreal. I’ve also seen multiple cool local bands wearing their merch, so I knew that their opening set at P’tit Ours for Pop Montréal was a must.

In a packed room (though it could have been more packed, more on that later), the three-piece unleashed some impassioned, jangly, yet melodic indie rock, while not really facing the audience, which kind of added to the mysterious ambiance under the cave that is P’tit Ours. The Bracelet sound is spartan, with only a few moments of real flash (this is a good thing for the Bracelet sound), but damn, is it tight and present.

The vocals from guitarist Caleb McKend feel very stream-of-consciousness, shot from the hip—at times like being sung from a personal mental health shopping list, while his guitar riffs float and hang in the heavy air. The guitar leaves a lot of room for the bass from Silas Jordan to really groove out and take his moments. I also gotta give props to the drumming from William Sinclair. The guy makes a lot with such a small kit. I enjoyed the cowbell and the absolute murder on the toms during the unreleased track, “Waterbed.” Actually, after a little digging, most of this Pop setlist is unreleased. They only played two songs from the I Hear Bracelet five-song EP. I can say from what I’ve heard, these guys gotta release the full-length soon.

My only gripe with the show, and it’s a small one, is that the door staff were turning people away from the show when the venue was not at capacity. I’ve played sold-out shows at P’tit Ours, and you can fit 75 people. Sure, it’s cramped, and you can smell everyone and their beer, but that’s rock ‘n’ roll. There were probably 50 total, and lots of room at the back. Still, Bracelet made it work.

Bracelet may be the band that other bands tell other bands about, but everyone should know ’em.

Photos by Stephan Boissonneault

Publicité panam
Grunge / Indie Pop / Indie Rock

Pop MTL 2026 I Ahren Strange Hides From the Sun in the P’tit Ours Cave

by Stephan Boissonneault

No stranger to the P’tit Ours crowd, Ahren Strange took the Pop Montréal cave stage, strummed their shimmering guitars and opened with one of their newest singles, “Fear of the Sun,” a hypnotic indie burner that they say is about “taking shrooms during the eclipse.” “They don’t mix,” Ahren laughed. No shit. That sounds terrifying. Somewhere in the song, you can hear it: the sky going dark, the ground going soft, the brain quietly taking its exit.

I immediately clocked that Julia Hill (Shunk, Maron Tate, Beer52s, etc.), Montreal’s favourite bassist, was in the background holding it down with the chill, laid-back drum flair courtesy of Aaron Nadal. What does that make? Nine bands for Julia Hill? Maybe it was just for the Pop show, but she quickly vibed with the moody Ahren Strange indie pop vibe. The bass and drums moved together like slow tides, unbothered, while everything else chewed the scenery.

The new Ahren Strange album, Heliophobia, drops in mid-October, and looking into some of the lyrics from this latest batch of songs, a lot of them seem to be about anxiety and a fear of light (maybe not literally, but metaphorically?) Either way, it’s a hell of a title and a theme that suits a room with no windows. Ahren’s vocals are always honey-sweet, but I’ve never really seen them go headfirst into that grungey Cobain-esque growl. We got a few moments during the set, and it suits them. Doubling up on the buzzing guitar chords made the sound feel enormous, walls-sweating, chest-rattling huge, which is not what I was expecting from the indie pop vibe I’m used too, but I was not mad at it.

“I’m writing a new album right now, and it’s all going to be in standard [tuning],” Ahren laughed as they tuned between songs with the capo. “I can’t keep doing this,” they said before jumping into a very hoppy, Keith Richards-style riff of the 90s alt-rock-tinged “Hot Women Smoking Vapes.” During that particular song, I kind of dissociated for a few short moments. The room closed in, and all I could see and hear were the dulcet tunes of Ahren Strange. I mean, who doesn’t love hot women smoking? No one, but good live music has that effect.

Photos by Stephan Boissonneault

Publicité panam
Indie Rock

Pop MTL 2026 | A Little Spaced Out and then… Luna !

by Marc-Antoine Bernier

I thought I’d come to see Dutch Interior. Convinced that their concert was at the Théâtre Rialto, I nevertheless found myself at a Luna show without even realizing it. Since I’d decided to let the opening acts be a surprise when I got there, the confusion wasn’t immediately obvious. From the very first song, however, a familiar feeling set in. That distinctive voice, those guitar riffs with hints of New York indie pop… I wondered if I wasn’t simply watching Luna. I was right.

Led by Dean Wareham, a key figure in the American indie scene, the band delivered a performance that gradually built in intensity. The Velvet Underground-inspired guitars grew in volume and bite, while Britta Phillips’ bass playing provided a more imposing foundation for the songs. Rather than faithfully reproducing their recordings, Luna willingly lets the songs breathe and stretch out. “23 Minutes in Brussels” thus becomes a long, hypnotic journey, carried by guitar improvisations that seem to unfold naturally.

The stage, however, remains surprisingly understated. Wareham, laid-back on vocals and guitar, shares an obvious rapport with guitarist Sean Eden. Between songs, their deadpan banter—sometimes deliberately left unfinished—draws laughter from the audience and lends the concert a touch of whimsy.

After 1 hour and 15 minutes of music, two encores brought the evening to a powerful close. I left feeling particularly moved by the music of this New York quartet and by the energy that filled the venue. There was something especially beautiful about watching the faces of audience members who were clearly moved to see their favorite musicians perform their classics on stage, with the same confidence more than thirty years after the band’s debut. Seeing Luna bring these songs to life in front of an audience that has carried them in their hearts for decades was not only a feat in itself, but also a deeply moving moment.

Publicité panam
Coldwave / Post-Punk

At the Pioneers’ Cabaret (Voltaire)

by Florence Cantin

I try as little as possible to go see pioneering bands. You buy overpriced tickets under the pretext that it’s your last chance: will I really have other opportunities to see this again? Then, as soon as they take the stage, the thought hits me: fuck, I came here to torture myself…

After seeing Martin Rev of Suicide at the Ritz, I told myself: never again. I left during the third pre-programmed track on his keyboard, with a heavy heart, apologizing profusely to my poor friend whom I’d dragged there. It was as if he were playing there to pay off a gambling debt, à la Frankie Valli.

I admit I felt a certain apprehension before seeing Cabaret Voltaire—a band that introduced me to electronic post-punk—even after listening to a compelling KEXP performance from that same year. Their set swept away my worst memories.

To make a long story short, Cabaret Voltaire is a legendary act from the late ’70s. Hailing from Sheffield—that industrial cradle in northern England that also gave rise to The Human League and Heaven 17—the band sought above all to escape the predetermined fate of working in a steel mill by making industrial music (a cool career change). These are musicians who started out without instruments and embody the very essence of DIY—ferociously anti-rock ’n’ roll.

I went to the SAT last Saturday with my friend Félix, who knew absolutely nothing about the band. He’d just listened to a few of their experimental tracks—pieced together before they had access to synths, using tape loops and sounds recorded in the dreary streets of their city.

Tonight, we were a far cry from their austere early recordings, where Stephen Mallinder whispered his demands, taking jabs at the capitalist system with radio samples and movie quotes. His voice, warped by distortion, chanted, “More meat for the mincer, more fuel for the wheels / More water / More meat / More fuel / More Boss / Kneel to the Boss.” ” It’s a bit of a cliché to say, but it’s still true. Like so many things that politically aware young people were shouting back in the ’70s and ’80s.

I love Cabaret Voltaire’s Dadaist collage in the studio, but I have to admit I’m not savvy enough when it comes to industrial music to appreciate it when it doesn’t have a groove. I was completely won over by their more structured synth-pop melodies. The sound quality is crystal clear. I’m thinking of that rich, gritty sound that went straight to scratching an “Itch” in my brain, or the track “Kino,” which I’d never taken the time to really listen to before.

The ’80s energy swept me away—it was hard not to get caught up in it. At several points, the bass was so loud that Félix and I looked at each other, stunned. This is music meant to be played loud—and it was. It’s a luxury not to be able to hear yourself think during a concert.

This wasn’t a show just for the nostalgic; you could really feel Cabaret Voltaire’s evolution as a band, their restless energy, and their absolute love for their tunes.

The addition of Tara Busch on synthesizers brings a real burst of vitality. The musician fits in so naturally that you’d think she’d been there forever, with synth lines that consistently hit just at the right moment. She exudes a youthful energy despite being 52 years old. She grips the knobs of her synthesizer with such intensity that I can almost feel the resistance.

A few beers later at Quai des Brumes, I find myself justifying why I enjoyed an old band’s show so much. Everyone points out all my “buts,” as if I were trying to defend myself against them.

Contemporary / Indian Classical

Opér’actuel 2026: Akasha, masala opera

by Frédéric Cardin

At this moment, the first edition of Opér’actuel is taking place, in its biennial festival format. Faithful to the vision carried by the artistic director Marie-Annick Béliveau (READ THE INTERVIEW WITH HER ABOUT THE FESTIVAL), the first event invited the public to an intercultural meeting between spiritual India and artistic West.

Akasha, the Breath of the Universe is a production by soprano Kripa Nageshwar and her company Hamsa Lyric Creations, based in Longueuil, Québec. A chamber ensemble composed of a piano, a clarinet, a Carnatic violin (from South Indian tradition), a sarod, and a santoor accompanies the soprano who sings and recites Indian poems (by Tagore, among others) set to music by Colin Eatock, and lyrical pieces inspired by Indian culture. Among these, an excerpt from Bizet’s The Pearl Fishers (O God Brahma), Poèmes hindous and Ragamalika by Maurice Delage, and an excerpt from a “Messiah” composed by the Canadian Amirthan Sothivannan.

INFOS AND TICKETS FOR OPÉR’ACTUEL FESTIVAL 2026

Eatock’s music acts as a binding agent between all these pieces which, with the exception of Bizet, blend quite well into the soft modern tonal language, tinged with echoes of Indian classical music. The musical result evokes something Britten could have produced if he had had a South Asian fibre. It is therefore quite accessible, and the arrangements for the small chamber orchestra with unusual combinations work well. They especially manage to avoid the impression of a somewhat cheesy New Age exoticism that often ends up colouring Western projects, especially those aimed at the general public, which wish to delve into Indian spirituality.

For Akasha is primarily a portrait of one of the fundamental aspects of Hindu religion. “Akasha” (in Sanskrit) refers to the ether or space element which, in South Asian culture, is associated with the fifth chakra (the throat), from which the voice emerges. It is also the primordial field from which all creation emerges and the invisible force that connects all beings.

It is a space where the souls of the deceased pass through on their journey towards the ultimate connection with the Universal Whole. In the cycle of births and rebirths, the soul that has not achieved sufficient detachment from superficial things passes through this space before being reborn in the earthly world, and starting the journey again. Those, rarer ones, who have reached the required level will pass through Akasha to attain universal unity and will not return.

Akasha, the opera, thus allows the audience to meet one of these souls (embodied by Kripa Nageshwar), who recounts its first emotional ecstasies in the face of the beauty of earthly life, its attractions, its joys, all the discoveries to be made. Then come the disappointments, the ups and downs of life, the anxieties. One of the quoted texts beautifully stated: joys are (too short) durations between sufferings. The journey of this soul in samsara (wandering) is expressed in Sanskrit, English, and French. 

It should be noted that what was presented last night at the Paul-Buissonneau Hall of the Calixa-Lavallée Center (in the heart of Lafontaine Park in Montreal) is only a part of the final opera that will be fully created in 2027 in Toronto. I imagine that with a more elaborate staging and sets designed for the occasion, the work will take on even more substance.

If it is true that I would have liked the musical material to be more demanding, it remains that Akasha, the Breath of the universe, is a contemporary creation full of good intentions and frankly enjoyable, which knows how to surprise without strictly resorting to experimental techniques to justify its modernity.

Contemporary / Modern Classical / période romantique

A star-studded season launch for Yannick and his OM

by Frédéric Cardin

The launch of the 26-27 season of the Orchestre métropolitain (OM) under the baton of Yannick Nézet-Séguin took place yesterday at the Maison symphonique in front of a full house. The theme was centered, mostly, around interstellar space and illustrated by the famous Planets by Gustav Holst, as well as by a creation by the Anishinaabekwe composer Barbara Assiginaak, Shpiming Nangokaa (High in the sky, there are many stars).

It was the latter that opened the afternoon (the concert was at 3 PM). The audience was treated to a resplendent work, sparkling with a thousand luminous colours, like thousands of jewels on a dark velvet cushion. The score oscillates between Ravelian sumptuousness and contemporary shimmering, in a back-and-forth between warm atonality and cinematic consonances. The crowd applauded warmly, rightly so.

A bit off-topic, but masterful in its expression and especially its interpretation, the Concerto for Viola by the Englishman William Walton followed with immense panache. A work that is rarely heard on our stages, and yet has an imperial dramatic effect! It must be said that the violist Antoine Tamestit masters this music without a hitch. A full and nuanced sound, capable of the most delicate whispers without compromising an ample projection, as well as the most athletic fortes, that don’t lose any timbral quality. This artist plays, in the holistic sense of the term: he watches the orchestra musicians, listens to them, appreciates their playing, responds to them. A true concert artist, not a soloist “with accompaniment.” That is probably the connection with the rest of the program: Tamestit is a fiery star. The man took the microphone to thank the musicians (he was right, the OM was in exceptional form) and announce an encore: an arrangement of Flow My Teares by John Dowland. The poignant melody of the Renaissance gave a few chills, especially in its delicate interpretation in a duet with the OM harpist, Robin Best. We can pleasantly imagine a full recital with these two artists. Why not?

In the finale, Holst’s Planets practically lifted the roof off the Maison symphonique. Yannick did not hesitate for a second and launched the warlike Mars on a merciless rhythm. With an OM at its best (hats off to the soloists of all the sections), the conductor then drew a Venus and a Mercury full of nuances before launching the masterful Jupiter at an exciting tempo. Thank you for not slowing down its progress, which sometimes happens with some conductors. Here, no, Yannick chose to express without hesitation the feeling of joy that underlies the character granted to the giant by Holst. The central section, with its imposing theme, had all the required nobility.

Saturn and its emphatic cadence, marking the passage of time, had the desired power and, above all, effectively expressed the inevitable nature of the march towards old age. Uranus and its driving energy (as well as the theme introduced by the bassoon, which so much reminds one of Dukas’ The Sorcerer’s Apprentice) had a lot of character, while the whole ended with the impressionism, first shadowy then evolving towards the light, of Neptune.

The audience was delighted. One can only agree with it.

Experimental / Hip Hop

FME 2026: haha Laughing, An Avant-Garde, Sluggy Surprise

by Jake Friesen

A crowd congregates around the Rouyn-Noranda automotive repair shop; I am a completely unsuspecting bystander to what I’m about to witness. haha Laughing materializes, anointed in a holy blue glow and immediately gets to work with a relentlessly energetic set. 

Sporting their signature bespeckled boxing boots, Aby Oviedo (aka BB BASCO) is a fucking force. Seamlessly transitioning between drums, saxophone, rapping, and metamorphosing into a slug. Their intense deadpan affect is balanced perfectly by co-rager-in-chief Jay Dilick. Full of conviction, Dilick’s vocal delivery is a conduit to feelings I didn’t know I had. The crowd thaws and surrenders to haha Laughing’s undeniably innovative sound. Their intoxicating sonic universe incorporates a lush mix of samples, absurd, haunting lyrics, catchy beats, live instrumentation and furious vocal delivery. The duo draws the attention of a few dudes rolling hard, who take the opportunity to join the action in front of them. haha Laughing takes it in stride, which only amplifies their audacious on-stage fuckery.

The rambunctious pair leave it all out on the court in their first FME set. Their official FME set feels like a victory lap the following night. The late-night audience is primed for these avant-garde dirtbags to tear it up. Tracks “ROACHEZ AND MOSQUITOZ” and “PULLED APART BY HORSES’”inspire joyously violent thrashing in the pit. Their irreverent sound is punctuated by gut-punch vulnerability on “LIL RALPHIE” and “LADYBUG NECKLACE.”  They’re in the pocket as they transition into an impassioned rendition of “Boom Boom Pow” by the Black Eyed Peas. Dilick cascades in and out of the crowd without missing a beat while Oviedo makes no bones about busting it down between spitting bars and ripping the sax. As I proceed to lose my marbles in the pit completely, the trust between Oviedo and Dilick is palpable as they take turns chancing it all in front of the sweaty crowd. On the bleeding edge of genre and performance, haha Laughing is a visceral monument to the beauty of risk-taking and being fucking loud.

Emo / Shoegaze

FME 2026 I An Ether Afternoon with Worry

by Lyle Hendriks

Materializing onstage like phantoms of the 2010s Tumblr age, Quebec City-based emogaze group Worry certainly looks the part. Black band tees, corsets, fishnets, and centre-parts as far as the eye can see, each member looking over the fast-filling space with a touch of gloom on their faces. At the centre, songwriter and vocalist Kerry Samuels, hunched over their mic with their bangs in their eyes. 

Bringing together the vast textures of shoegaze and the intimate specificity of emo rock, Worry has found a small part of the Venn diagram to call their own. Their grungy, slightly melodramatic sound has a knowing, nostalgic element, just enough to harken back to days of first cigarettes and American Apparel knee socks. The music remains approachable and honest, though, never overstaying its welcome on any particular influence. 

Samuels’ voice is clean, controlled, and powerful, sounding even more studio-ready when they’re joined by co-vocalist l i l a (a.k.a. Marianne Poirier). Together, they form the Platonic ideal of a shoegaze vocal, the perfect blend of whininess and sincere expression to grab onto as the expansive instrumental churns around us. 

The band is exceptionally well-rehearsed, making sure the constant barrage of jangly guitars and embodied drums doesn’t turn to mud. Half beat pauses and stutters feel effortless and inevitable. Pop-adjacent song structures mean you always know when the next heavy breakdown or climactic vocal is coming. Each track is a rollercoaster—you see what’s up ahead, but you can’t deny the fun of the ride.

Alt-Country / Country Blues / Country Rock

FME 2026 I The Sadies and the Horse They Rode In On

by Charly Blais

FME is a marathon, not a sprint, and we were coming up on the last mile. I schlepped my tired bones from the SUUNS secret show over to main stage for The Sadies sunset set. Despite my weariness, as the plucky guitar and throaty upright bass started up, I was drawn magnetically toward the front. Soon, I turned around and saw I wasn’t alone- behind me, the crowd had multiplied to seemingly include the whole population of Rouyn-Noranda. This was fitting, as the show was part of the free festivities to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the town.

The music meandered from rockabilly to surf rock to full desert saloon. Frontman Travis Good was our fearless leader, looking like an older, sadder cowboy Kramer in his Sunday best. Noting that summer is now coming to an end, he launched into “Another Season Again,” dedicated to his brother and founding member of the band, Dallas Good, who died in 2022 and wrote it about how much he hated summer.

Near the end, the Toronto band played “Ridge Runner Reel,” a maddeningly toe-tapping instrumental country romp that increasingly picks up the pace until the audience can barely keep up. This perfect end to my festival weekend, The Sadies had me riding out of Abitibi-Témiscamingue on a slow horse with one brain cell, two left feet, and three names.

Post-Rock / Shoegaze / slowcore

FME 2026 I Moiré is Slowcore for Feeble Minds

by Stephan Boissonneault

Réseaux sociaux

Let’s not sugarcoat it. I was a wreck during early Sunday evening, the last day of FME. All I needed was sleep, but there were, of course, more bands to review. I walked into the darkened room of 55 Dallaire and stumbled upon a set by Moiré, a six-piece grunge-gaze group from Malartic, Quebec. The riffs were heavy, yet subdued, full of half- and full-step guitar bends that throw you off-kilter and bass and drum fills that feel quite nebulous.

It was a little much for my feeble brain, and under other circumstances, I might have liked it. It felt reminiscent of Duster or even Have A Nice Life, but with French vocals. But by the fourth droney song, my eyes felt ridiculously heavy, and I began to sway in a half-sleep-induced coma. The vocals, various French groans or wails, also felt very droney and did nothing to break me out of my standing siesta.

The stage was shaded in a purple glow, and at times, I truly felt like I was dreaming. The vocals were also quite low in the mix, so it was difficult to deduce what was actually being sung. The instrumentation was always heavy, like a concrete slab, and I was happy to eventually be free of its clutches. Maybe if I had seen Moiré, and it wasn’t the last day of this bender of a festival, I would have enjoyed it a bit more.

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