After seeing close to the end of Patrick Watson, I rushed over to Scène Rogers to witness Tanya Tagaq, the Inuk throat singer. As I approached the stage, Tagaq’s band – a cellist with some pedals and a drummer with MIDI pads and chimes were laying down some ethereal soundscapes as she made a plethora of sounds: clicks, wails, screams, into the microphone.
My friend, who was there since the start of the set, informed me Tagaq’s performance was entirely improvised. I did want to hear some of the actual songs from albums like Tongues, but instead, I got something that sounded like a never-ending sequence from a horror movie.
Tagaq has a commanding presence, going full Yoko Ono with her babbling and screams, and at moments, the atmosphere became very tense—as if she were summoning a Wendigo, a demonic entity from Indigenous folklore, with her hypnotic throat singing. It wasn’t a set I was expecting, and the strange vibe definitely turned some people off, but it will easily be a memmoroabel moment from JazzFest 2026.
Quebec’s adult-contemporary piano wizard transplant, Patrick Watson, pulled out all the stops for his main-stage show at the Montreal Jazz Fest. The set felt more like a musician’s friends’ showcase with vocal and instrumental performances by Martha Wainwright, La Force, Charlotte Cardin, November Ultra, and Charlotte Cardin — who all appear on his 2025 features album Uh Oh.
There were some truly spectral moments, like Watson, playing a light piano under a backdrop of projected stars while singing his lyrics from The Cinematic Orchestra’s “To Build a Home.” The crowd knew every word, chanting it back as Watson’s face was projected onto the UQAM and TD studio buildings. The show got even quieter and hushed when he performed “Silencio” with November Ultra, as Mishka Stein strummed a light nylon-string guitar. The lights dimmed to a hue of red and orange, creating a blackened halo effect around Watson and his friends. La Force, who was playing electric rhythm guitar for most of the set, also sang on the acoustic number,” The Lonely Nights.” It was hard to hear the nylon guitar, but the harmonies between Watson and the signers were clearly the focus.
Watson really ramped up his performance during the fan favourite “The Great Escape” when an acrobat, who seemed to be plucked out of the audience, walked up some stage stairs and bounced on a somewhat invisible stage trampoline to the piano chords. It was a memorable site even though I could only witness it from a screen.
FIJM 2026 | Solarium: full light on some exciting Keb Jazz
by Frédéric Cardin
I went to see the free show by the Quebec quartet Solarium last Saturday at the Molson Pub during the Montreal International Jazz Festival. I had never seen and heard them live before, and I guarantee it won’t be the last time I do.
They are four young guys, intertwined during their time at the CEGEP of Saint-Laurent (a good brewing pool of up-and-coming-talent, the “St-Lo”): Karl-André Rozankovic (Compositions, Pianos, Keyboards), Léo Minville (Compositions, Drums, Guitar), Louis Plouffe (Saxophones), and Vincent Dessureault (Double Bass, Bass). Their mark is that of a vigorous post-bop, enhanced with modern rock touches and, occasionally, traditional references. It lifts, it grooves, it rips a bit, sometimes, and we like what we hear from one track to the next. The guys are having fun, obviously, and they allow us to envision a bright future for both them and us, attentive music lovers.
While waiting to have the immense pleasure of seeing them on stage somewhere, I will dive back into their discography (available on Bandcamp). Their most recent album (released just a few weeks ago) is called Live à Montréal. Put that in your ears, you’ll get the vibe.
On Thursday night at La Noce, we headed over to the Télé-Québec stage for Enfants Sauvages. Rox Arcand storms out and starts getting us all riled up against matricule 728. Dancers hit the stage, flipping off the sky as if the dismissed cop had ascended straight to hell. Then, completely out of the blue, some guy stops her dead in her tracks, asking her to hold on. There weren’t many protests despite the disappointment: while a few took it as a cue for a beer run, many just decided to call it a night. Silent, muggy lightning strikes ultimately forced the band to pack it up.
After what felt like thirty-odd minutes, and some guy from La Baie telling me all about his trip to Italy, things got rolling again. Catching Enfants Sauvages live is always a safe bet. It reminded me of seeing her at Casa Del Popolo with Cornette and les petits trous de balle a few years back. Some guy was talking a bit too loud. She stepped right off the stage, chased him out of the venue, screaming her songs right in his face. He was genuinely terrified. I was convinced she was going to spit on him. Rox Arcand gives off this vibe of being dangerous. It’s pretty charming—as long as you’re on her good side.
They only have time to blast through something like three songs, in fast-forward mode. The stunts keep coming: the lead singer calls for an all-girl mosh pit. A few guys who try to squeeze their way in get violently roughed up, shoved, and kicked by the girls, who seize the opportunity to let off some steam. « C’est sûr que c’est ben d’adon », as my friend Audrey from Jonquière would say. The crowd and the band seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement: they were going to make up for lost time.
There is so much going on, I don’t even know where to look. The two basses add serious depth to the noise of the distorted guitars. The air is completely saturated with sound. The vocals are piercing; you can feel Rox Arcand’s bitterness over having to let a few raindrops get in the way. She reaches her hand out to us in a gesture I mistook for a handshake. It was more of an anchor to launch herself forward, body-surfing into the sparse crowd, while the dancers make out passionately—and just like that, it’s over. Not many bands can pack a 45-minute show into a condensed 15.
FIJM 2026 | McBride / Lage, what a way to end the FIJM !
by Vitta Morales
All I can say is what a duo! And what a way to end the FIJM ! As far as I could tell Julian Lage and Christian McBride have not played much together in any official capacity; (an article I found from 2023 suggests they jammed once on a cruise ship), but we should be thankful that the two apparently now live in the same neighborhood in New Jersey, making this collaboration perhaps more likely in the future.
Playing as a duo is necessarily a more exposed formation where audience scrutiny is increased, interplay becomes invaluable, vocabulary is tested, and stamina is paramount. But the guys played it off as if it was nothing, of course. Lage and McBride have such a wealth of chops and musicianship that they intuitively knew when to let a moment breathe, when to push the intensity, and when to show off flurries of triplets or harmonize their melodies with double stops as they slid around the neck of their instruments.
Truly, it was almost as if we were peering in on two buddies playing for themselves. While pointing to the set list, one would often ask the other, “You wanna play that one, or this one?” The two also had very good comedic timing when talking to each other and to the audience, all while they made their way through compositions by Monk, Wayne Shorter, Ellington, Coletrane, and even Lage’s original tunes. “Okay we’ll play that one, but you take the intro,” Lage replied at some point in the set.
At the end of the night, the Festival presented McBride with the Miles Davis award, which is intended to honor an internationally renowned jazz artist and their contribution to the evolution of the genre. I can’t imagine how big his trophy cabinet must be by now, (my thoughts turn to those eleven Grammys he’s racked up), but I can’t think of anyone more deserving. I’m sure he’ll find some space.
FIJM 2026 | Kassa Overall Crumbles the Boundary Between Jazz and Hip Hop
by Harry Skinner
It’s not particularly controversial at this point in time to suggest that jazz and hip hop are inherently linked; they are seen by many as essentially two different dialects of the same language, with blurry lines between them. Artists like Kassa Overall, however, can lead us to question whether there is really any line between the genres at all. He and his band graced the fortuitously covered Pub Molson stage on Thursday evening after some heavy rain finally let up.
The groove of the opening piece, Overall’s ‘Ready To Ball’ gradually emerged from a bed of out-of-time textural swells from the band, with the bandleader expanding the sonic landscape with electronics. The way the band played this song clearly demonstrated the homogeneity with which they relate to jazz and hip hop – from one moment to the next we heard electronics and a live rhythm section; a firm backbeat and sparse piano comping; rapping and up-tempo swing, with no moment feeling out of place.
Overall described each member of his band as ‘possibly’ the best on the planet at their instruments, and with the musical relationships on display onstage, it is clear he did not say this disingenuously. Pianist Matt Wong clearly subscribes to the Overall Ethos of the project, as illustrated by his excellent solo on A Tribe Called Quest’s ‘Check the Rhime’ which expanded cleverly on the melodic motif in the Average White Band sample. The rhythmic linkup Overall has with percussionist Bendji Allonce and bassist Giulio Xavier could hardly be tighter if they were quantized in a DAW. As a unit the band played with great intensity, a highlight of the show being a blistering cameo solo from tenor saxophonist Isaiah Collier.
What sets Kassa Overall apart from other acts that merge jazz and hip hop is the level of authenticity with which he approaches it. When he plays a modal jazz interpretation of Digable Planets’ ‘Rebirth of Slick (Cool Like Dat)’ and gradually changes the groove from fast swing to a backbeat so that you never notice the switch, it is because he genuinely feels the link between the two grooves. When he plays ‘Check the Rhime’, it is with the same familiarity and reverence with which he would play a jazz standard like McCoy Tyner’s ‘Passion Dance’, which is incidentally exactly where the Tribe tune went. He truly has one foot firmly in each lane and never fully leaves one or the other behind. What he ends up with is a new third lane entirely of his own.
Safe to say we have been pretty spoiled for free programming at this year’s Jazz Fest. While we at PAN M were still working out coverage, in fact, I was surprised to discover just how many of the artists I wanted to see this year were ticketless affairs, including the slick and dynamic duo Domi and JD Beck. And having missed this dynamic duo’s first visit to La Belle Province three years ago, I did not want to miss them this time around.
On The Rogers stage, on Thursday night at 10h30 PM, would appear empty save for the duo’s set up consisting of stacked keyboards and a drumset (with a metal chair suspended in place of a ride cymbal); these set ups would face each other in the middle of the stage. Suddenly an orchestral backing track began to play serving almost as walk-out music. Eventually the two would come on and it appeared as though the track would be a mainstay of the set as the two would play to the preprogrammed melodies and either solo overtop, accompany, accentuate, or play against them.
The duo would show of their chops for much of the show, (I’d be disappointed if they didn’t), with Beck playing triplet based partials in his left hand around the kit or start leaning into some 16th note drum and bass style invention while Domi would burst into solos with some, at times, very whimsical keyboard sounds including something akin to midi flute, toy piano, plucked strings, and others.
Half way through the show Beck explained these orchestral interludes and backing tracks as them playing the songs from their new album which has not been released as of writing this. He half jokingly stated that the interludes were to catch their breath and added simply “we’re trying shit.”
And so most of the show went on like this. I myself enjoyed their musicianship immensely but not the sound of Beck’s drums which included a paper thin snare drum which was overpowered by the midi trigger on his bass drum providing, as far as I could tell, sub bass notes. Another gripe of mine had to be the compositional variety of the songs; do not ask me to sing back any particular moment of any of them as they became indistinguishable in my head after an hour. In other words, at the risk of sounding like a non jazzer, it all kinda sounded the same. Although, the upcoming album is called Who Asked? so maybe it matters little to them.
It was only at the very end, the last two songs of the set in fact, that the duo did away with the backing tracks and started instead to play to, and for, each other. The chemistry between them here was much stronger when they didn’t have to consider an unmoveable, uncaring, third member of the band in the way of a prerecorded material. Here is when I got a glimpse of the vibe, energy, and musicianship that rocketed the duo’s careers back in 2022 and won them much deserved accolades.
FIJM 2026 | Anamaria Oramas Showcases Authentic Colombian Jazz
by Michel Labrecque
Away from the large crowd heading towards Patrick Watson’s concert, the spectators who had chosen the Molson Pub were treated throughout the evening to moments of varied and generous Latin music.
Follow me and you’ll understand that “everything is in everything,” as the poet Raoul Duguay said. At 7 p.m., Quebec trumpeter Rachel Therrien presented her Latin jazz show; in the middle of it, she introduced us to her “great friend” from Colombia, Anamaria Oramas. The two women embarked on a rather inspiring dialogue between flute and flugelhorn.
Once the show is over, I head towards Ste-Catherine Street, where Hilario Duran is preparing to deliver a solo piano performance, right in the middle of the street. Originally Cuban, Duran has lived in Toronto for two decades. Is he the best pianist living in Canada right now? The question deserves to be asked. A magnificent solo performance, a moment of grace, only spoiled by the too omnipresent presence of a speaker which broadcast totally different music, too close.
Back at the Molson Pub at 9 p.m., it was the turn of Colombian flautist Anamaria Oramas to take the stage. It was her first time at the FIJM, she told us in French tinged with Spanish, but after five minutes, she had won over a fairly large audience.
The flautist, who plays the transverse flute but also the typically Colombian gaita and the gauta, a sort of mixture of the two instruments, quickly made us understand that her music was a percussion jazz which encompasses all Colombian musical influences. And it worked very well.
Accompanied by an excellent trio of drums, double bass and electric guitar, Anamaria delivered original, vibrant music, which she presented as a form of resistance and freedom.
His country, Colombia, won its soccer match against Ghana while playing in Montreal. However, it has just elected a Donald Trump wannabe as its new president.
This always poses the dilemma of Latin America and the South for me: how can music and culture be so bold when these countries are so burdened by problems of inequality and corruption?
In the middle of her concert, the Colombian singer invited her Quebec friend, Rachel Therrien, to join her on stage. She told us that the two women had studied music at university together in Cuba 20 years ago.
The only thing missing to complete the Latin hat trick was the presence of Hilario Duran on stage.
It was an evening that seemed to satisfy fans of innovative music. Including the person writing this text.
FIJM 2026 | The Art of the Perfect Trio at Upstairs with Billy Childs
by Frédéric Cardin
The pianist Billy Childs may not be a super star of jazz piano, like Brad Mehldau, Robert Glasper, or Vijay Iyer, but he has been carving out a very high-quality personal path for about forty years and knows how to offer music lovers exceptional jazz evenings. This is exactly what happened on Friday evening at the Upstairs club, which was lucky enough to welcome him for the first of two evenings (four sets, therefore) that will remain in the memory. If you are reading this text on this little Saturday morning, know that there may still be a few rare spots left for tonight. Maybe.
Childs launched his program with 34 Skidoo by Bill Evans. The message is clear: there will be good energy, without any fuss but with a lot of class. Childs is a marathon runner on the keyboard: he maintains the pace without rushing, sometimes daring a few deviations, but the overall focus is unshakeable, assured, logical, and above all, inspired. He is with two giants of the rhythm section: Matt Penman on double bass and Ari Hoenig on drums. These two guys finely frame the leader’s discourse, but not only that. They are intrinsically part of the discussion, often stepping out of the pulsing skeleton to chat more freely. That said, we never lose the thread. A close and intimate symbiosis.
Childs then introduces one of his compositions, Tight Rope, followed by another, Like Father, Like Son, a tribute to his father. One of Childs’ early pieces, released on the album Twilight Is Upon Us in 1989. Exciting hard bop flights on a solid but subtly undulating rhythmic cushion. Next comes a classic by Dexter Gordon, another giant of Hard Bop.
Between the pieces, Childs briefly introduces the pieces to us, without any fuss, but sometimes with an anecdote, a reflection. Above all, with class, restraint, and authenticity. In the hushed atmosphere, crowded with attentive ears, at Upstairs, we are experiencing a jazz event of a high level of classicism and intelligence together. Upstairs is one of the best clubs in North America. Maybe in the world. This is the proof.
The set officially ends with New World Disorder, a committed commentary dating back to the era of U.S. President George H.W. Bush, but which applies with even more acuity in 2026. The sharp chords, the disjointed pulse bring a dose of modernity not heard until now. A curious way to end a concert. What the “encore” (Whisper Not by Benny Golson, a benevolent standard) quickly corrected.
The music lovers and other curious attendees at Upstairs were lucky: we haven’t heard much from Childs in a trio format in recent years. The recent release of the album Triumvirate, by the way, is a return to form after a thirty-year absence! Once again, the three masters will be there tonight, Saturday, July 4th.
Hurry up and call Joel (Giberovitch, the owner of Upstairs) to hope to get a spot (if there are any left, honestly I’m not sure).
On the eve of the 250th anniversary of the United States, or, if you prefer, Divided States, the Gesu celebrated the centenary of the birth of the mythical trumpeter Miles Davis, by playing his 1959 album, the equally mythical Kind Of Blue, which profoundly transformed the jazz of that era.
Montreal trumpeter Ron Di Lauro conceived this project in 2010 and has revived it occasionally since. Given that we’re talking about jazz and improvisation, this project is never exactly the same each time it’s revived.
It’s no easy feat for this sextet of Montreal musicians to embody Miles Davis, John Coltrane, and Cannonball Adderley on saxophone, Bill Evans on piano, Paul Chambers on bass, Mike de Masi on double bass, and Jimmy Cobb on drums. And yet it’s possible, as they demonstrated with conviction.
The Gesù was largely filled, mostly with white or salt and pepper hair, in great shape for a concert that started at 10:30 pm. Many die-hard fans of Miles Davis from that era and sometimes, a few younger ones, well educated by their parents or music teachers.
Di Laurienne’s recipe for this reincarnation: certainly, we play a classic, we respect its form, but when the time comes for solos, for magical improvisation, we remain ourselves and, in doing so, we give new life to the music.
Yannick Rieu and Jean-Pierre Zanella played tenor and alto saxophones, one more languid, the other more edgy and virtuosic. They were instantly recognizable. Taurey Butler, the American turned Montrealer, distanced himself considerably from Bill Evans with much longer solos. And why not?
Martin Auguste on drums provided a subtle rhythm section, and the bassist, whose name escapes me, delivered solos more innovative than his predecessor on Kind of Blue. After all, we’re 63 years later, and we need to feel it.
And Ron Di Lauro was Ron Di Lauro. The former university professor knows his trumpet and how to use the mute to resonate like Miles. All while asserting himself in the solos. A blend of respect and innovation.
I had a great time. Judging by the loud applause during the encore, I wasn’t the only one.
Hello Miles and hello to those Montreal musicians who have reincarnated him for us!
Thursday evening at Gesù, a cine-concert like no other was held. Ascenseur pour l’échafaud, a film by Louis Malle released in 1958, and whose almost entirely improvised soundtrack by Miles Davis contributed as much to the film’s success and fame as the quality of Malle’s direction itself. One had to ask the following question: should one replay note for note a score originally created spontaneously, thus betraying its original spirit, or should one rather pay homage to that spirit by improvising anew, even if it means breaking the solidly rooted references in the minds of movie buffs?
In this dilemma, trumpeter Rémi Cormier has clearly chosen his side by favouring the second solution. The Montrealer, already comfortable with the nocturnal and urban groove style of the original music (listen to his music on Bandcamp), went for atmospheres that were sometimes subdued, sometimes more dynamic and propulsive (for car scenes, for example). Musically speaking, Cormier weaves a rather velvety tapestry, with occasional dissonant or grating outbursts. A picture of warm, muted colours. His colleagues Théo Abellard on piano, Levi Dover on bass, Louis-Vincent Hamel on drums, and Nick Di Giovanni on guitar play along and insert their own contributions within the rather straightforward framework of the suggested emotions and atmospheres. In terms of paying tribute to Miles’ music, it’s effective and very appealing. We will note some passages where the volume of the music is unbalanced compared to that of the film and the dialogues. The kind of thing that gets refined over time.
Here is the purely musical and technical aspect of the relationship between the music and the film. It is at the level of its dramatic and emotional connection with the images that one sometimes wonders what should have been done differently. Several originally silent (meaning without music) scenes (there are quite a few, given that there were only about 20 minutes of music in the final cut of the 1h30 film, I remind you!) seem here overloaded, as if they were a bit too abundantly covered with “mood” and atmosphere. Notwithstanding the quality of the score improvised by Rémi Cormier’s quintet, one cannot overlook the symbiotic relationship with the images.
In the 1958 film, Malle had deliberately chosen to limit musical interventions to a few selected moments. There was a reason for that. The dramatic effect, the communicative and emotional expression of the characters’ psyche, all of this was distilled sparingly, and above all balanced between the “natural” vitality of the actors’ performances and the “commented” delivery by the soundtrack. In the film, as it will be seen on any streaming site, the arrival of the music marks an important moment each time, a departure from the raw space of the story, a step back to better embrace a broader perspective of the emotions and inner lives of the protagonists.
In the version presented at Gesù, this balance is shattered by the presence, almost wall to wall, of music that covers everything. We are somewhat overwhelmed, in a closed elevator, and the references crumble. Even though Rémi Cormier’s composition is very good, it is heavily overused. I have remarked to myself, several times, that I would prefer it to be a simple concert rather than a film concert.
A striking example: the scene where Florence (Jeanne Moreau) leaves the café after asking the bartender if he had seen Julien (stuck in the elevator). The feeling of solitude of the character, immersed in the nocturnal urbanity, is magnified by the appearance of the trumpet and its haunting melody, gently cushioned by the rest of the quintet. After almost thirty minutes without music, the quiet strength of this moment is striking. Last night, it was completely overshadowed by the incessant presence, from the very first moments of the film, of the soundtrack. An originally significant appearance now stripped of any particular interest.
I’m not saying that the music should have been played note for note either. Cormier’s argument seems very valid to me: Miles would never have done that. But it seems to me that the spirit of this music does not reside solely in its style and sonorities, but also in its place in the narrative and dramatic progression. In other words, fewer notes and more silences should also have been part of the analysis of the character of this music.
Even if the dosage will have to be adjusted, the concept, bold, and the beautiful score, were carried out with authentic and fully successful involvement.
What will be your primary intention in going to this concert: to listen to good music inspired by Miles Davis, or to experience a very special relationship between images and sounds? The answer will certainly influence the degree of your satisfaction.
The Club Montreal stage would play host to the Christine Jensen Sextet as they gave a short and sweet fifty-six-minute show titled “Modes of Coltrane.” Jensen, as one might expect given the name of the show, would skillfully perform arrangements of the prolific John Coltrane repertoire as well as lesser-known “deep cuts,” as she was fond of saying, including “Blue World,” “Equinox,” “Moment’s Notice,” and “Village Blues,” among others. She was well backed by some of the usual suspects of the Montreal jazz scene in the way of André Leroux, Lex French, Rémi-Jean Leblanc, Jim Doxas, and François Bourassa, with each of them having moments to shine throughout. Jensen herself pulled out various colours and harmonic ideas from her alto and soprano horns showing her familiarity with the language of Coltrane. Leroux, for his part, also channelled Coltrane well on his tenor (as he did on Échanges Synaptiques, which was reviewed here and whose rhythm section was nearly identical to Jensen’s on the night).
Jensen had impeccable timing, in the phrasing of her lines, but also when she would choose to play the tune “After the Rain;” the crowd’s umbrellas would open and close repeatedly throughout the first half of the show as the intensity of droplets varied, however, by the time Jensen and company had finished the tune, the rain had mostly stopped and “Village Blues” could close out the show.
Overall, the sextet performed aptly and injected a shot of old-school canonical jazz into this year’s programming, bringing us back to the genre’s roots.
