Festival Vibrations | OUM Celebrates Its 75th Anniversary with the Horn

by Chloé Rouffignac

This Saturday, October 18, the Orchestre de l’Université de Montréal (OUM) opened its season, celebrating the 75th anniversary of the Faculty of Music. Under the direction of Mathieu Lussier, the OUM presented a rich program featuring four Romantic works, all from the late 19th century, including Antonín Dvořák’s renowned Eighth Symphony. However, it was Richard Strauss’s Horn Concerto in E-flat major, performed by soloist Noah Larocque, that was the concert’s centerpiece.

Noting the rarity of the presence of a wind instrument at the front of the stage, Noah Larocque asserted himself from the first notes with a round and powerful sound, and this throughout the piece, which requires great endurance in response to text offering little respite. Despite the abrupt leaps of the large intervals, the melody and lyricism dominated with surprising ease. All in sobriety, yes, but the quality of the performance concluded with a well-deserved ovation.

In the opening of Edouard Lalo’s opera Le Roi D’Ys, we can note the cleanliness and delicacy of the respective oboe and clarinet solos, which already promise the solidity of the woodwind section. A solidity that we will find again in another lesser-known work on the program: La nuit et l’amour by Augusta Holmès, where the presence of the harp is sometimes stifled despite the discretion of the brass, which struggles to make its mark.

This discretion was quickly dispelled by the strong and controlled entry of the trumpets into Dvořák’s symphony, even if more pronounced support from the brass section would have been welcome. The final movement highlighted the precision of the entire orchestra in a triumphant allegro ma non troppo.

A surprising and successful start to the season. See you on December 5th at the Claude Champagne hall for the rest!

Photo: Nina Gibelin

House / Techno

Maceo Plex Closes Piknic Électronik 2025 with a Groovy, Emotional Farewell

by Julius Cesaratto

For its final edition of the year, Piknic Électronik closed the season in style with a three-hour masterclass from Maceo Plex. Under an unusually warm autumn sky, the veteran DJ guided festivalgoers through one last outdoor dance — a groovy, emotional send-off before Montreal turns the page to winter.

This special edition of Piknic came with a lively Igloofest activation, bridging the gap between the two sister festivals. Beside a giant inflatable igloo, fans frolicked through artificial snow flurries while the Igloofest Yeti mascots joined the crowd, adding a surreal, playful touch to the night.

Opening with a selection of slow-paced, groovy vocal house tracks, the American-born producer began carefully building the ambiance. As the crowd warmed up, he turned the BPM higher, pushing into dreamy trance and progressive sounds, peppering in stabs of horns and 808 kicks. As the set evolved, he eased into a two-step rhythm, lifting the energy on what was already an unusually hot autumn evening.

Hip-hop flips punctuated his performance — 21 Savage’s “a lot” and Young M.A’s “Ouu” appeared in unexpected moments, each one eliciting massive cheers from the packed dancefloor.

Later into the night, the tone darkened into tech-house territory, anchored by crisp hand percussion and familiar 4/4 techno patterns. When the American-born producer layered in 21 Savage’s “No Heart,” the crowd erupted, roaring every lyric back at him. Behind the decks, he stood triumphantly, pumping his fist, with a large smile of satisfaction beaming across his face

Strobing white lights swept across what felt like Piknic’s largest crowd of the season, illuminating a sea of faces enjoying their last outdoor dance of the fall. Then came the set’s apex: Cloonee’s “Fine Night” tastefully flipped for the occasion. As the iconic track rang out, the entire space was euphoric a collective realization that this was the end of another unforgettable summer started to settle in.

In just a few months, Igloofest’s frigid stage will rise on the Old Port once again, and Montreal’s festive ritual will continue, this time under the snow.

big band / Jazz

Université de Montréal Big Band | Celebrating 45 Years of Developing the Montréal Scene

by Harry Skinner

Anyone who spends any significant amount of time in the jazz scene in Montreal will understand the foundational role that the music faculty at the Université de Montréal plays in it. Over the last few decades, it has produced a now intergenerational community of musicians without whom the city’s music would not sound the same. As such, the school’s big band has inevitably become a place of development for countless musicians who continue to make names of themselves in the city and elsewhere in the world. With this Thursday marking the ensemble’s 45th anniversary, a Théâtre Outremont crowd was treated to a set of repertoire that was both surprising and classic, featuring the younger generation of students alongside several of their mentors in the faculty.

The night kicked off in style with an original arrangement of Thelonious Monk’s “Well You Needn’t” by lead trombonist Laurent Cauchy. His interpretation of the piece utilized plenty of odd time signatures and a bridge that shifted between half and double time feels, all of which reframed Monk’s melody in a new and interesting way. There is a clear stylistic connection in Cauchy’s writing to that of Thad Jones/Mel Lewis Orchestra alumni such as Jim McNeely and Bob Brookmeyer.

The rest of the set largely followed suit, featuring several (relatively) contemporary takes on standards by acclaimed arrangers such as Gil Evans and Bill Holman. A highlight of the show was Rob McConnell’s arrangement of Lester Young’s “Tickle Toe,” which featured faculty trombonist Jean-Nicolas Trottier alongside Maude Gauthier on the tenor saxophone, trading energetic solos both in sequence and simultaneously.

If there was one thing missing from last night’s performance, it was a lack of featured solos from the students in the band. Of course, It was a treat to listen to the faculty members that were brought onstage throughout, but the audience did not get the chance to get to know many of the ever-present musicians. In fact, the Don Sebesky arrangement of the classic “All the Things You Are” was the only piece that featured more than one student solo. This is not to say that this was to the detriment of the performance, but perhaps a missed opportunity.

All said, the UdeM Big Band did well to pay tribute to its 45 years, while showing at the same time that it will remain a fixture of Montreal’s jazz community for years to come.

Photo by Nina Gibelin Souchon

classique

Mahler’s Ninth by the OSM: Farewell to a Futile and Frantic World

by Judith Hamel

On Wednesday evening, Rafael Payare conducted the Montreal Symphony Orchestra in the continuation of the Mahler cycle, this time with the composer’s final completed symphony, the Ninth. A highly demanding work that reflects the consciousness of a man who knows his end is near and is bidding farewell to the world.

At the time of composing the work, Mahler knew he had been diagnosed with heart valve disease and was haunted by the recent death of his daughter. Fearing the bad luck associated with ninth symphonies (Beethoven, Schubert), Mahler had avoided numbering his previous symphonic work, but in vain: this Ninth would indeed be the last symphony he would complete.

Payare offers us a reading that is quite different from the classic interpretations marked by great dramatic tension that we associate with Mahler, right from the first movement.

In this first farewell to life, lasting around thirty minutes, it is difficult to find a clear guiding principle to hold on to. Payare’s direction evokes less the gravity of this imminent end than the vertigo of our existence in our modern era, where everything moves at high speed and everything is ephemeral. In fact, his proposal has something profoundly contemporary about it: that of a frantic, saturated world where futility takes hold.

The second movement, a Ländler, opens with a section of tightly knit bassoons and a section of rough strings. Here, Payare opts for rusticity and fully embraces the woody, earthy character. The intoxicating circularity of the rhythm, the warm cooing of the French horns, and the wavering pace of the waltz create a country atmosphere that is both joyful and melancholic. It is a farewell to the simple pleasures of life.

The Rondo-Burleske is delightfully sarcastic. It is a whirlwind of sound, a celebration that descends into frenzy. Each section of the orchestra shines with its density and energy, contributing to this brilliant and chaotic orchestral extravaganza. A gargantuan celebration, carried by a deliberately pompous ending, unapologetically ironic.

The final Adagio presents the acceptance of leaving this world. Payare’s subtlety serves this movement well. He deploys a more sober and internalized gesture, adapted to the delicacy of this last movement. Little by little, he allows the sounds to breathe, until the fear of death fades away. In this long farewell that closes this great symphony, silence becomes the last and most eloquent of notes.

A few seconds of silence were observed at the end of the symphony. This silence filled the space, imposing itself loudly. It was followed by a heartfelt ovation.

Photo Credit: Gabriel Fournier

Africa / Electronic

FLUX | Singeli: Tanzania’s Future-Sound is Here

by Loic Minty

Sisso & Maiko put on a show at the S.A.T. like nothing we’ve ever seen before in electronic music. Originators of the new Singeli sound, the Tanzanian producers have not only invented an entirely new genre, but a new way of experiencing electronic music- at least here in North America. Its novelty is comparable to Baile Funk’s, but Singeli is even more culturally remote, forming its own insular world of sound. Supported by the Ugandan experimental music label Nyege Nyege, Sisso & Maiko epitomize this new wave of music that breaks ties with previous stereotypes of music coming out of Africa. Their sound is a technological embodiment of dance itself, where the body is the final instrument in a chain of digital creation.

At first listen, the rhythms may sound overwhelming, repetitive, but that’s the point, and over time, this impression wears off leaving in its place an ecstatic joy. Through dance, the body melts into the odd geometry of Mchiriku inspired rhythms, the ears tame the percussive sirens of vintage casio keyboards as a kind of cartoonish embellishment. Singeli sound is rich, but also unserious. After 2 songs we were hooked, not just by the uniqueness of the sound, but by the showmanship which gradually converted the initially dazzled crowd into fans.

Whether being blindfolded, playing the keyboard with their feet, or taking their shirts off and dancing a Chura through the crowd, Sisso & Maiko did not hold back one bit when it came to having fun. It was contagious. They could have played all night and we wouldn’t have noticed time go by. And as we danced, jumped, and ran from side to side, our fatigue was transcended. I recalled in my research the origin of Singeli sound which was in the Kigodoro parties, Kigodoro meaning “small foam mattress”, as dancers would collapse after sleepless nights of dancing. If the show hadn’t been stopped at 1am, it is easy to imagine how even a piece of cardboard would have seemed comfortable at 7am.

cloud rap / Electro-Pop / hyperpop

2hollis Brings Gen-Z Rage To MTELUS

by Jake Friesen

I make my way through the dense, sweaty crowd of intoxicated youths. Some let me squeeze by without much issue, others I have to stop and explain that I’m a journalist just trying to get to the photo pit. They begrudgingly allow me to continue my disgusting march to the front of the venue. I feel utterly geriatric in this sea of juvenescence (for the record, I’m 27). When I reach the foot of the stage, I turn to see MTelus packed to the gills with people preemptively holding up their phones for 2hollis’ entrance. I consider how horrifying it would feel to have that many eyes and iPhone camera lenses on me. Against the backdrop of a giant white three-dimensional tiger, 2hollis steps out on stage. The simplicity of his outfit, in contrast to his extreme height and incredibly blonde hair, makes him both angel and alien. The smear of black eyeliner beneath his eyes betrays his imposing aura and reveals him to be a human boy.

A juxtaposition is quickly formed between an audience that is recording every moment of the performance and moshing extremely hard simultaneously. This makes perfect sense, given 2hollis’ deeply online origin story, blowing up on TikTok while managing to remain surprisingly anonymous. His sound pays homage to the legacy of caucauphenous hyper pop and moody cloud rap that came before him, while continuing to refine this fusion into a dangerously danceable meditation on big feelings.

The crowd gets so rowdy that 2hollis stops the set at least five times to ask the audience to take a step back. Intensity of this type is not uncommon in the rage genre, but the concern for audience safety is refreshing.

For the most part, the musical performance itself is standard fare for a cloud rap adjacent artist, a solo performer armed with only autotune and a backing track. However, it was 2hollis’ embodiment that stood out to me. Watching him onstage felt like catching a glimpse of someone dancing alone in their bedroom. Intimate, fleeting, and reckless. The authenticity in his movements feels pertinent to his predominantly Gen-Z audience, who have grown up in the chronically online era, where expressing oneself with such abandon risks being cringe.

Standout moments from the set include his performance of “cliché,” which brought me to tears watching a couple dance to the song beside me. The intensity of “poster boy” left me feeling like a piece of rock being pressed into a diamond between the heat in the room, the pressure of bodies around me and the flashing lights. After relentless movement and pure hype, 2hollis surprises us all with his only acoustic track, “eldest child.” In that moment, 2hollis is something different altogether; he’s more than a mysterious conduit for some of the most danceable songs of our generation. Without autotune, he’s a talented musician with a voice, a unique human voice. Over and over during the performance, I am reminded of the humanity in the room and onstage. I would be remiss not to mention his encore, in which he played and subsequently replayed his hit song “jeans” three times. I don’t care what anyone says, it was awesome.

I left the show with optimism about the younger half of my generation, that there is still a deep desire for moving and feeling. That we still want to move intensely and feel deeply together. Long live the rage.

Photos by Jake Friesen

Africa / Arabic / Electronic

FLUX X EAF | An Electric Fairy Tale with Nadah El Shazly

by Félicité Couëlle-Brunet

The evening has the sweetness of an ancient dream. In the dim light of Espace SAT, a languor floats, an almost tangible melancholy. We whisper, we wait, as if something rare were about to happen. EAF evenings have this quality: they bring together the curious, the music lovers, the dreamers, around a common promise: that of listening differently.

On stage, a harp sits alone, poised in the dim light. Its presence intrigues: what dialogue can emerge between this ancestral instrument and experimental electronics? Enter Nadah El Shazly. A key figure in Cairo’s alternative scene, she is known for blending Arabic vocal tradition with bold electronic textures. Her critically acclaimed album Ahwar (2017) had already revealed this rare ability to combine lamentation and trance, memory and rupture. Tonight, she immerses us in a new, more intimate, more visceral dimension: that of her new album, الشاذلي Laini Tani (2025).

She arrives accompanied by a harpist. Two mirrored presences: one upright, motionless; the other moving, inhabited. Even before a sound rises, we sense that the evening is shaping up to be a ritual. Nadah’s voice cuts through the air in a deep, vibrant way, laden with history. It carries within it the nostalgia of Arabic song, while escaping from it, to inject the strangeness of the present.

Synthesizers and bass intertwine with the harp in a sensual dialogue. The light unites them, making them bloom like two flowers from the same sonic garden. Nadah undulates, moves, breathes the music. But behind her lamentations, we can sense a discreet smile, an assumed mischievousness. At times, she plays with the dramatic tension she creates, almost mockingly. She knows exactly what she’s doing: her voice becomes both tragedy and comedy, gravity and joke. We later learn that some of the lyrics were cheeky, full of humor and irony, a delicious contrast to the solemnity of the tone.

A suspended moment occurs when she announces an improvised game. She steps toward her controller, and suddenly, the sound distorts. Noise emerges, raw, incandescent. Nadah lowers her head, lost in a trance. Electronic pulses collide with traditional Egyptian motifs, as if the past and the future meet in a single breath.

This passage encapsulates the power of her performance: the tension between mastery and abandonment, between myth and machine. When it all ends, an emotional silence fills the room. There is loud applause, but also softly, as if to maintain the spell.

I let myself be carried away by Nadah El Shazly’s voice, without understanding the words. Perhaps it’s better this way: the music spoke in another language, that of bodies, echoes and breath. Thanks to Nadah El Shazly, we all felt like we were living, for the space of an hour, a lucid, sensual and witty moment.

Publicité panam

Experimental

Akousma | A Concert Augmented by Bone Conduction

by Judith Hamel

On October 9, a packed house was held under the dome of the Society for Arts and Technology for the Augmented Concert presented by Akousma. This pioneering event, which for the first time used bone conduction headphones in a structured manner in an electroacoustic concert context, featured four specially commissioned mixed music works.

After a brief presentation by Andrea Gozzi, director of the research-creation project, several thanks from the collaborators and a calibration of our bone conduction headphones, we are ready for the immersion.

Nicola Giannini, La dialectique de la proximité

Posted behind his synthesizers, Nicola Giannini sculpts a dialogue between vastness and intimacy. The first minutes stretch out in various iterative patterns spatialized around us and through our headphones. A voice finally rises through our cochleas: “But I love the sound of this felt pen that goes towards you, towards me, towards us.” Giannini lingers writing with this said felt pen and we hear these gestures in our headphones. A crossing of an organic sound universe created by synthesis, a dialectic of proximity…

Duo Catalão-Thibault, INTIMITÉ INFINITÉ

Equipped with horns, Dominic Thibault and João Catalão slowly cross the space, moving from the back of the dome to the front. At each sound call, they take a few steps. Once they arrive at their installation, around the bass drum, the horns are used to produce windy whistling sounds, now transmitted directly to our headphones, creating immersion and intimacy. Then, the two artists manipulate various objects in interaction with the drum. They explore granulations, friction, complexity of sound mass and timbral qualities. The exploration of sound circularity is particularly interesting, notably through the gesturalization of a metal chain on the bass drum.

The end returns to the beginning with a slow movement of the artists out of the device. This is punctuated by alternating rattles of rattles that gradually fade away until the sound disappears completely.

Ana Dall’Ara-Majek, Polyhedral Rhythms

With his mysterious PhotoTable (an invented instrument), Dall’Ara-Majek places several vials on a glass table equipped with a light-sensitive electromagnetic device. Each vial, depending on its position, generates a distinct sonic response, modulating the density of the sounds and their rhythmic deployment. The sound material comes from modular synthesis and field recordings, creating imaginary landscapes. Around us, sounds of liquid flow and flux unfold. By methodically moving the vials across the surface with frank and calculated gestures, the artist brings out sonic textures that are sometimes tight or sparse, low or high, dense or light, sometimes tonal, sometimes more complex.

An instrument that immerses us in the transformations of matter.

Kevin Gironnay, Espèces d’espaces

To close the event, Gironnay presents a work with soprano Amy Grainger, who recites and sings excerpts from poems transmitted through bone conduction headphones. For a moment, breaths multiply through the dome, spatializing and transposing, sliding inspirations. The poems speak of space, of our souls, of the living. Grainger quotes Georges Perec: “The problem is not so much knowing how we got here, but simply recognizing that we got here, that we are here: there is not one space, a beautiful space, a beautiful space around us, a beautiful space all around us, there are lots of little bits of space.”

This concludes the evening well. An evening of exploration of space, our presence, and the tangible potential of new technologies.

Classical / Classical Period

Faust, Labadie and the OSM | Tributes to Viennese Classics

by Alexandre Villemaire

The Montreal Symphony Orchestra welcomed two powerful musical personalities for its October 8 concert. Bernard Labadie, a distinguished specialist in the Baroque and Classical repertoire, and German violinist Isabelle Faust joined forces on stage to present a program showcasing the Viennese classical spirit. And what better way to express this Viennese spirit than with two of the most emblematic composers of this period, both in terms of their energy and stylistic influence, than Joseph Haydn and Ludwig van Beethoven.

The former easily ranks among the most important and influential composers of the 18th century, notably because of his long life – he died at the age of 77 – and his jovial personality. Everything in Haydn’s music is extremely imaginative and lively, even in the most dramatic passages. Several surprises await the listener at the turn of a musical phrase. The latter also left a lasting mark on the world of music with his passion and by being the gateway to Romanticism in the history of music.

To open, the OSM musicians presented Symphony No. 103, subtitled “Timpani Roll,” so named because of the composer’s characteristic presence and entrance. After a thunderous roll, the first movement opens with an Adagio quoting the Gregorian hymn Dies Irae. This thematic material is faithfully reproduced by the composer, who modifies it slightly by inserting dissonant chords and syrupy melodic lines in the strings. The second movement, oscillating between ceremonial and ironic march, exemplifies Haydn’s humorous side. The third movement features sublime exchanges between strings and woodwinds in a light fanfare effect. The symphony’s Finale displays a variety of colors in different materials that evolve toward a climactic ending.

It is particularly in this movement that we can appreciate the characteristics of Haydn’s language, such as the sudden changes in dynamics that run through the movement. Dynamics and affects that Labadie masters with ease and clarity and where he gives the orchestra space to express itself.

Although Beethoven’s name is strongly associated with the Romantic period, the music of the impetuous Bonn musician is expressed in the style of Viennese Classicism. Known for his strong temperament and emotional fervor, which he transposed into music, Beethoven adopts here in his only violin concerto a more optimistic discourse with a light character, but retaining an intensity of line. Endowed with “clarity, audacious depth, and brilliant technique” (San Francisco Classical Voice), Isabelle Faust embraces the contours of the orchestral sound and offers controlled and sonorous dramatic flights. At first hearing the first movement, we were struck by these qualities of the musician, but also by the very technical approach of her interpretation where the expressiveness of the lines, although perfectly executed and proud, seemed cold. It was in the second and third movements—both linked together—that the expression and quality of Faust’s playing captivated us. The lyricism and gentleness of the Larghetto evoked a noble and majestic character, while the final Rondo, with its multiple thematic ideas and interplay of orchestral textures, brought the evening to a luminous close. Aside from the quality of the performance, the other engaging spectacle unfolding before our eyes was the communication, complicity, and pleasure that emanated from the interaction between Faust and Labadie during this performance. Always in contact, responding to intentions, directions, and phrase inflections with a message, the duo brought these works to life. They thus created a space of expression where intimacy and listening pleasures were combined.

Photo Credits : Gabriel Fournier

Publicité panam

Modern Classical

Quatuor Molinari: Reconstruction and Renewal in Continuity

by Alain Brunet

Dedicated to the late sociologist Guy Rocher, just a few days after the national funeral in which Quatuor Molinari: Reconstruction and Renewal in Continuity participated, this first concert of the ensemble’s season was given in a context of reconstruction and renewal in continuity.

Quatuor III (1994), for string quartet (Op. 30) by the late Bulgarian composer (naturalized French) André Boucourechliev (1925-1997). The piece comprises 6 different sections without a transition marked by a pause, different playing modes are put forward, the composer had bet on an open form where four randomly superimposed voices completed the framework. It starts with long and calm melodic lines with the bow, things then get more complicated, different motifs follow one another and overlap, an atonal explosion occurs, calm returns, the sounds become tenuous, crystalline, and bow strokes resume, and so on. This is a solid work for its time but which blends into the aesthetics of this same period, without really standing out from it.

Dmitri Shostakovich’s String Quartet No. 4 was composed in 1949 and premiered in 1953, coinciding with Stalin’s death, which was certainly not bad news for the composer, who had to live dangerously with his own modernity throughout the authoritarian leader’s reign.

This quartet was composed after the regime had dismissed him from his teaching position and banned the distribution of his modern works. Divided into 4 movements, was quartet no. 4 written out of fear of being too bold? Perhaps… because it seems that the modern components of the quartet are relatively tenuous, and the parts including popular or folkloric references (so dear to the Stalinist regime) often outweigh the modern materials of the work. In short, this “ambivalent” quartet remains excellent even if it is not my favorite of Shostakovich’s 15 string quartets, nevertheless very well performed by Molinari.

In the context of this concert, we will find more vigor and more adventure in this early work, Béla Bartók’s Quartet No. 1, inspired by an impossible love with the violinist Stefi Geyer, who inspired the piece. Constructed in 3 movements when the composer was only 27 years old, this visionary quartet carries the passion and the foundations of his own modernity, embodying his transition from previous eras to his own. The performance of Molinari seemed to me the best of this evening, the cohesion and eloquence of the individual and collective playing suggested an excellent season for this renewed formation.

Violist and chamber musician Cynthia Blanchon was indeed welcomed to Quatuor Molinari on Tuesday. The musician’s introduction was accompanied by the announcement of the revival of the complete 15 Shostakovich string quartets, which, let’s remember, had been canceled at the last minute last spring, due to the defection of Frédéric Lambert due to illness. From one work to the next, we saw the violist take her ease with the quartet, in all aspects of her playing. Establishing her personality as a performer within such an ensemble is not done with the snap of a finger, it goes without saying.

Experimental / Contemporary

FLUX | A Fat Mardi Spaghetti

by John Buck

Mardi Spaghetti @ Flux Festival, October 7th, 2025 Festival Flux collaborated with Mardi Spaghetti on October 7th for an evening of experimental sounds of international origin.

Eduardo Cossio (Perth) was the first to break the silence, his left hand hovering over a pedal chain while the right set an Ebow on a single string of an auto-harp. A trio of blue eyed Ebows joined for a cluster of tightly wound frequencies. There was something desolate in that metallic drone. Stabs from a reverb laden kalimba bubbled under the highest highs and lowest lows of Cossio’s harmonica. I had visions of an abandoned suspension bridge creaking between overgrown shores.

One of the thick steel cables is unwinding, each tiny strand tightest before the fall. Jen Yakamovich and Roxanne Nesbitt (Vancouver) continued the air of suspense on drums, electric bass and two trees of semi-cylindrical bells. Long tones encircled the stage at Casa del Popolo. Jen rolled around the drums with every sort of mallet, brush stick and back again.

Roxanne wielded a wooden bow of ancient styling against the detuned strings of an electric bass propped on the left shoulder. Dense stuttering from the bass rose with flourishes of a riveted cymbal and fell into sparse ambiances centred on bell tones. A slow pulse, our first clear unobscured tempo of the evening, arrived just in time for the bow.

The trio of Pablo Jimenez (Bogota/Montréal), Camila Nebbia (Buenos Aires/Berlin), and Antoine Létourneau-Berger (Rimouski), brought time and tonality back into the abstract with a series of intensely committed improvisations that explored the extremes of their respective instruments. Antoine sat behind a the keys of an Ondes Martenot routed to pickups placed on the various quasi-membranes of a trap set – the skin of snare drum, a gong. Subtle whispering tones often inspired his bandmates to a new level of understatement and fragility.

Camila Nebbia could follow him there, sometimes with the help of a tin can in the bell of her saxophone, now apparently singing from the other room. She’d pull the can out to reveal a cascade of untethered melodies full of rhythmic substance and surprise. Pablo let those rich tones through, bowing his acoustic bass into the texture of a section of violins on a rewinding tape machine. Recalibrate your ears and expectations for music some Tuesday soon.

Publicité panam

Joseph Houston: In All Weathers

by Loic Minty

On a rainy October 7th, what could be better than taking shelter in the comfort of a chapel, letting the torrent flow by while listening to its gentle violence. Sometimes slow, sometimes like a thunder of chairs returning to their places at the bell, Joseph Houston’s piano wonderfully allowed us to discover what we could not have previously imagined on such an instrument.

With infinite precision, Joseph Houston cut the church’s resonance into a thousand pieces. Under the pounding rain, we traveled a winding path, from purely serial music at the opening to almost jazzy chords where melodies began to reveal themselves. Held together by detailed and dense scores, the rhythm gave way to changes of speed and carefully unregulated phrasing. A style he made his own with confidence.

This winding journey, ultimately, was not a coincidence, but rested on the superposition of forms whose outline the intellect could only barely define. After almost an hour of exponential growth, the tranquility of its ascent suddenly took on force. In Cassandra Miller’s piece Philip the Wanderer, Houston revealed her unrestrained virtuosity. Heavy as the ground and yet light as incense smoke, her spasmatic left hand created a low drone, while the right developed a floating melody with a romantic air. The whole thing rose in bursts of strums, played as if they had been forgotten, which were heard along a dynamic path: lost, found, then lost again in a din. Without our realizing it, the end of the piece revealed the main tune, which had resonated within us ever since like a distant memory.

Back on our orange chairs, the small red chapel could be heard from far away, for even the storm had joined us. The room, filled with contemporary music lovers, emptied as the audience dispersed, running. The storm, however, remained suspended, as if it wanted to prolong the last note.