Save The Crumper: A Review

As a result of my tardy bedroom clock, my arrival at the beloved Casa Del Popolo was an embarrassing fifteen minutes late. My gloveless hands froze in the cold, and my friends stood peeved at my lack of punctuality. Walking past the hurdle of smokers outside the entrance, I slid through Casa’s gorgeous exterior bar and into the intimate performance space. It was Sunday, February 1st, the evening of the Friends of Crumper benefit concert. 

Someone stood to the left of the door, scribbling a bold SOLD OUT onto a scrap of paper. After taping it tightly onto the ticket table, I introduced myself. 

“Hi,” I said. 

“Hi. We’re sold out tonight! Sorry,” she shouted over the music. 

“Oh no, that’s okay,” I yelled back. “I think I’m on some kinda list. I’m here to write about the show.” 

She took a step back and studied my face. Having walked in during the first performance, we were forced to communicate through shouted fragments directly into one another’s ears. After an intimidating seven-second stare-down, she nodded and leaned into my ear. 

“Yeah, I trust you. Enjoy the show. Help the Crumper.” 

The Crumper, as I soon learned, is a Montreal jam space built for local bands to perform and practice with ease. The night’s lineup was made up of bands born out of this beloved space, all coming together to ensure that it stays put and accessible. Proceeds from the evening went toward supporting the spot, and friends of the bands came from across the city to show up for their community. 

My brief yet kind opening interaction set the tone for the rest of the night. Casa was hosting something warmer than its usual show. The evening felt less like a standard lineup and more like a celebration of what can come from community-led projects. There was an immediate 

sense of welcome and an overarching feeling of support from the crowd. My conversation with the trusting ticket booth girl encapsulated the energy of the show: intimate, human. 

I began my evening shuffling through the packed crowd and planting my feet in a solid spot southwest of the stage. From there, I could clearly see all four members of the opening act, I, Like You. 

I, Like You (don’t forget the comma!), started the night with real force. The lead singer moved sideways as he sang, his body giving in to the intensity of the song. The rest of the band matched that intensity, creating something difficult to look away from. Close to the stage, the crowd moshed, carrying the band’s energy back into the room. They opened the night with a performance that made the space feel connected from the start. 

Power-country band the Vauxhalls carried that same sense of connection throughout their set. Their lyrics were playful, paired with sweet melodies shared between two vocalists. By this

point in the night, I had found my previously peeved friends, and it felt natural to dance alongside the rest of the crowd. 

It was with one of the Vauxhall members that I later spoke about the Crumper. After running into her in the bathroom, she explained, “The Crumper might not be the prettiest place in the world, but it’s important for a place like it to exist. Where else are bands supposed to practice in this city?” 

Sunforger finished the night with a post-punk set that felt tender and well-loved. I didn’t know their music beforehand, but the set quickly won me over. With sharp guitars and vocals that blended easily over steady beats, it’s no surprise the band has already made its mark on the Montreal music scene. 

The band that piqued my interest most, however, was Palomine. I’ll admit I was skeptical of the three-guitarist lineup. As someone not especially versed in the technical side of music, I found myself wondering why so many were necessary. But as soon as they began to play, I was proven wrong. Blending shoegaze and indie rock, the layered guitars felt mesmerizing rather than crowded. I left still thinking about their set, eager to see what they produce in the year to come. 

I walked in not knowing much about the Crumper, but by the end of the night, I was rooting for the space just as much as the bands. What I witnessed felt like an ode to what can be created when artists are given room to engage with their work without limitation. 

The Crumper is special and should be a friend to all. As they put it on Instagram, “Remember when the world was semi-affordable, and bands could practice and record cheaply? Neither do we. We’re like 22. But if you want to fight gentrification and practice in a well-equipped space, the Crumper is your saving grace.” To support it, keep an eye on their upcoming shows, book a practice slot if you can, and show up when it counts. Save the Crumper!