Concert review

Hardcore / Sludge

FME 2026 I Double Truck, Double Violence

by Saleh Balfaqih

On a sunny, sleep-deprived Saturday afternoon, nursing a terrible migraine, I got to see Truck Violence. The band have been darlings of the Montreal hardcore scene for the past couple of years, and that day, they were slated to perform twice. The first was an indoor show, a calmer affair with kids in the crowd. Later that night, they played a secret show outside a 24-hour poutine restaurant, and they came out in full force. Somehow, by the end of it all, with back-to-back Truck Violence, I felt renewed.

Lead singetr Karsyn Henderson has a commanding presence, pacing and strutting across the stage like a Southern Baptist preacher mid-sermon. He’s both intense and fierce, yet tender. The best example of this comes during the rare reprieve in both sets, a dark folk banjo ballad, when he sings “I like it here right now” during “guns buried in the front yard,” his voice bending with a painful twang. Guitarist Paul Lecours and bassist Chris Clegg work in tandem, driving the songs forward with such force that you feel like taking a sledgehammer to a wall. At other moments, their sludgy riffs makes you feel like you’re wading through thick tar. The band’s newest addition, drummer Thomas Hart, pounded the drums with explosive force and ferocity. Together, Truck Violence is a force that’s impossible to ignore.

There is no drop-off in quality between sets. Truck Violence is a searing forge: intense, hammering, with brief reprieves from the heat. When they’re on it, there is no stopping them. You’re along for the ride whether you like it or not. You are compelled to move.

Experimental / percussions / Post-Punk

FME 2026 I Mek’Dr’Dr Brings Shovels and Whimsical Post-Punk to FME

by Stephan Boissonneault

Mek’Dr’Dr, the minimalist post-punk duo from Brussels, made up of Mien Heyvaert (vocals, bass) and Sara De Wit (vocals, percussion), easily takes the award for the most inventive band at FME this year. Not to mention, their name is just so damn fun to attempt to pronounce – mik der der, MEK DUR DUR, Mek Dr.? As we approached the secret show on a balmy early afternoon, hungover eyes and crusty perceptions clouded by the sun, Mek’Dr’Dr’s music, whimsical and full of life, reverberated off the city walls. The flemish duo was playing tracks from their debut album, No Safer Place Than a Toilet Seat.

The vocals echoed, almost Björkish in the vocal harmonies between De Wit and Heyvaert, consisting of a bouncing bass, percussive instruments and objects (literally anything, such as a shovel, pieces of wood, chimes, or a Fisher-Price xylophone) and an old drum machine that sometimes decided to cut out.

The whole Mek’Dr’Dr vibe is quite experimental, especially due to the wide assortment of percussive objects De Wit switches between. At times, the duo sounded like dolphins, reminding me of the B-52s, and at other times it transcended genre, but again, it was always so full of life and for lack of a better word, fun. For the final song, De Wit blew into a beer and vodka bottle in rhythm with the drum machine and bass. It was the perfect ending to the ingenious set.

FME 2026 I Hologramme Turns Petit Théâtre Into a Sweaty Discotheque

by Stephan Boissonneault

I’m usually not one for the electronic shows at FME because I get my fill at MUTEK a week before, but this year I was unable to attend. The various cocktails of substances in my system, paired with many, many beers, also was also craving to move, so an electronic show felt like the right choice. So as we shuffled into the dark room of Petit Théâtre, Clément Leduc, known in the electronic scene as Hologramme, was unleashing some truly cinematic, Interstellar-coded synths, full of bleeps and bloops.

The backdrop looked like a form of hyperspace, an emerald grid that moved and pulsed with the noisy sampling. Hologramme isn’t your typical electro DJ—his house drops never come when you’re expecting them, and just when you start to feel the hazy beat, he switches it on you—playing intergalactic 3D chess with your mind. The Interstellar vibes continued, especially after the grid morphed into 2D plasters of the Earth’s atmosphere, and Hologramme finally freed us from his relentless, mutating bass. At moments, the show was too much for my feeble brain, and during others, I heard a kinship close to someone like Bonobo or Com Truise.

The Petit Théâtre was quickly turned into a sweaty discotheque, and for the 20 minutes I was there, all felt right and a little less heavy in Rouyn-Noranda.

FME 2026 I Lou-Adriane Cassidy Turns Main Stage Into Her Own Disco-Funk Coronation

by Stephan Boissonneault

Though I know she has been around and quite popular in Quebec for several years, I first discovered the Francophone art-pop sensation, Lou-Adriane Cassidy, during FME back in 2022. So her Main Stage show was kind of a full-circle moment for me. In the years since her 2022 FME show, Lou-Adriane Cassidy has released three albums, her most recent ones being Triste Animal and Journal d’un Loup-Garou, and she has upgraded from the indie rocker who sometimes plays guitar (like her FME 2022 show) to the powerful leader of a wonderful disco-funk band.

Her performance of “Jamais tout à fait,” was mesmerizing, her voice slowing to a whisper in adult contemporary, jazzy fashion, and then signalling her band to release the Italo disco-tinged synth line. She also turned the entire crowd into her personal backing vocalists during “Valse frustrée”—thousands of voices swallowed up into the Abitibi night air.

I prefer the jammier pulse of Lou-Adriane Cassidy’s Triste Animal, especially live—it’s like watching someone flip between a séance and a bonfire hang. Her voice held both registers without strain, dropping into a near-growl one moment and floating somewhere angelic and clinging to the night air the next.

Punk / Punk Rock

FME 2026 I Thee Soreheads Are Basement Brain Surgeons

by Lyle Hendriks

The half light before a show starts can feel like a lifetime under the right chemical circumstances. I certainly found this to be the case as an anxious crowd waited for Thee Soreheads to take the stage just past midnight on FME’s Saturday night. As the minutes stretched forth, we watched for any sign of vocalist Maria Jimenez and her merry band of punks. In classic punk fashion, they kept us waiting, allowing the crowd and its anticipation to grow before finally opening up with the first of many fishtailing freakout tracks. 

Thee Soreheads careen through each track, equally haphazard and precise. Unlike many punk outfits, they don’t hide the riffs and melodies amidst a totally washed-out wall of fuzz. There’s room for everything here, whether it’s a sensibly timed, roaring bass riff from Hugh Lapham, another daredevil fill on drums by Seyjii Schultz, crushing, relentless riffs from guitarist Ally McPake, and, of course, the catchy declarations of violent intent from Jimenez on vocals.

With a background in theatre, Jimenez seems to step into a character and a suit of armour at once onstage. Her words carry poignant messages on the objectification of women, consent, and the daily agony of life as a woman. Her words fly out ruthlessly. She locks eyes with the men in the room, delivering condemnation and cold-blooded clarity, then stepping back so the band can erupt into another raucous passion of thrashy, surfy rock and roll. 

Thee Soreheads just felt right in my brain. Scratching a deep-seated, gnawing itch with surgical precision and manic intensity. It’s a masterful, fun execution of straightforward ideas, refining this well-loved genre into a potent freebase solution that few can ignore.

Hip Hop / R&B / Rap français / Soul/R&B

FME 2026 I Muhoza Brings Unadulterated Joy

by Saleh Balfaqih

On the eve of their album release, Prends soin de toi, I was fortunate enough to stumble upon and witness Muhoza, a Cameroonian-Rwandan, Montreal-based rapper, alongside his eight-piece band. His music blends jazz rap with R&B elements, resulting in a sound that’s vibrant but just really, really smooth.

If there were one word to describe their performance, it would be infectious. Muhoza raps with clarity and intensity, but radiates pure, unadulterated joy. He bounces around the stage, hyping up his band and high-fiving them between songs. His band returns the energy in kind. Everyone looks genuinely happy to be there.

His right-hand man, Carson [Alphonse], is a fixture on almost every song. His soulful voice and skillful vocal runs provide the perfect complement to Muhoza’s rapping, usually in the form of a catchy hook or a gorgeous chorus. The two play off each other effortlessly. 

Not enough can be said about the rest of his band. Somaya, a Montreal-based singer, brings a softer vocal touch, while Bianka, the man who can’t seem to stop smiling, lays down tasteful guitar licks. Then there’s his saxophonist and flutist, Noah Tremblay-Mimouni, who weaves flourishes of jazz into the music. Each member brings something great to the table. 

Look, I can’t speak French. I have no idea what any of the songs are about. But if we’re going to challenge the age-old (corny) idea that music transcends language, there’s no better artist to make the case than Muhoza.

Garage Punk / Stoner Rock

FME 2026 I BALACLAVA: GOOD EFFECT ON TARGET

by Lyle Hendriks

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

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

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

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

Indie Rock / jangle pop / Psych-Rock / Psychedelia

FME 2026 I Corridor, A Psychedelic Indie Rock Ouroboros

by Stephan Boissonneault

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

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

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

Garage Rock / Indie Rock / Post-Punk

FME 2026 I Iguana Death Cult Converts the Non-Believers

by Stephan Boissonneault

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

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

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

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

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

Electro-Rock / Pop-Rock

FME 2026 I Max Baby is an Indie Sleeze Elf

by Charly Blais

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

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

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

Garage Punk / Grunge

FME 2026 I Birds of Prrrey’s Grungey Siren Call

by Saleh Balfaqih

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


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

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

FME 2026 I Choses Sauvages: Where the Wild Things Are

by Lyle Hendriks

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

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

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

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

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