Armon Jay is a self-described hillbilly originating from Chatanooga, Tennessee. His southern accent is mild and undistinguished in a city like Montreal, but he likes to use it as a conversation pitch. Mixing stereotypes of hillbilly and urban hippy, he gulps down half a "mystique" cider, laughs at the irony of a redneck drinking a cider, then switches voices and advocates for a gluten free diet.
The sound and lyrics feel like a fusion between two genres, country and indie folk, which he seems to replicate in his transitions between songs. Incredibly lyrical and amusing to listen to, he breaks his heavy songs with splashes of humour. Near the end of his set he reveals that he is also a musician in Noah Gundersen's band, and laughingly admits that he is working on changing his name to Gundersen so he can be part of the "family".
Cade, the second opening act, was devastatingly beautiful to listen to. The handmade sound combined with Kaiya's deep and soulful voice was worthy of spinal shivers. I kept thinking that their music reminded me of a really good sandwich, I don't know any one who can deny the excellence of a really good sandwich. Between songs their voices sounded shy and disengaged with the audience, which contrasted their confidence that they projected in their music.
Noah Gundersen came on with a lengthy version of "Poor Man's Son". Everyone can relate to being stone-old broke in the middle of the winter, and there lies the crux of this song. It is rather moving to hear three siblings singing in harmony and seeming so at ease together. The younger brother fades to the back, Noah and Abby take front and centre as two new members of the band come out from back stage. The song explodes. It turns into a rock concert with gospel roots.
Noah has a forty of Jameson on stage with him and describes his music as being "sad bastard music". His sister Abby, also sporting a forty of her flavour (tequila), softens the sounds with her fiddle and harmonizing vocals. The songs seem to revolve around addictions and foot loose flings. The fiddle is grounding in the band, like an anchor tied to a folk sound that would disappear into Christian rock if it lacked. The energy ebbs and flows as Noah and band mates alternate roles and eventually just the siblings are left on stage. It feels suiting and concluded the whole act nicely.
Show reviews are biased because of the venue, and for that reason I need to mention Petit Campus. It is a half-decent venue, but they could do better coordinating their shows. Heavy sub bass leaked from upstairs into the second half of the show, and every song that was supposed to be quiet and intimate lacked its privacy. Noah, unconcerned, notes that if you "can't beat em join em", and played a song while bopping his head to the heavy sound.