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POP Montreal returned for its annual weekend of concert after concert spread over 5 days, with over 400 artists and bands playing at over 50 venues across the city. On Friday, CJLO staff attended a few of the shows POP had to offer

Lisa Rupnik

POP Montreal has somehow snuck its way into my heart to become, for all extensive purposes, my favorite music festival in Montreal. It's not just the killer lineup that they bring year after year, it's also that its presence has become synonymous with the arrival of autumn in the city. I've often complained enough about all the stupid little things about Montreal that bring me down. And I'm justified to have those feelings, having lived here all my life. But when POP comes around I feel enchanted by my own city, like the carefree and detached feeling of a tourist. 

Part of the fun of the festival is popping around the Mile End from venue to venue, for that reason I couldn’t recommend getting the full festival pass more. There’s too much going on at the same time, festival goers have the heartbreaking task of picking and choosing between their favorite artists, which was the exact struggle I had on the Friday night of the festival. While eating my dinner, I had the POP Montreal festival booklet and with military precision made my strategic plan for the night.

The first band I knew I needed to see was Victoria’s Freak Heat Waves. They were opening up for Homeshake, which is fine and maybe justified, but Homeshake was one of the artists I had to cut out of my night. When I walked up the stairs to Theatre Fairmount, Freak Heat Waves had already taken the stage. The music felt as if it almost had a physical entity, and combined with their psychedelic stage visuals, their glow took up the entirety of the room. Their latest album Mondo Tempo was an entertaining and thorough listen, but seeing it performed really brought it to life. After I heard the song “In The Moment Divine”, featuring legendary artist Cindy Lee, I knew I had my fill and it was time to move on to the next venue.

At this point, I walked over from Theatre Fairmount to Le Ministere, which I'm still not sure is a long walk or not. The reason why I headed over was to catch LA-based electronic musician Nailah Hunter. Her 2023 album Lovegaze topped many end-of-year lists and Bandcamp spotlights.  Performing with just a harp and a pedal board that would outdo any shoegaze band, her live set sounded very different and stripped down compared to her lush and complex album. Nonetheless, this intimate setting with a rather simple setup really showcased her musical talent and skill. Ending with a cover of The Cure’s “Just Like Heaven” the audience was mesmerized. 

Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay for Cassandra Jenkins, as there was another artist calling me. Not to mention, this was also the showcase that was co-presented by CJLO. I stumbled back to the Rialto theatre, which maybe from Le Ministere is a pretty decent walk, and out of breath, made it just in time for Still House Plants and claire rousay. Still House Plants, unlike the other bands mentioned in this article, sounded exactly like their record. It was quite impressive to hear their very intricate and unique approach to performing, although at this point I was quite impatient to see one of my favorite artists of the festival, claire rousay. 

I made sure to sneak my way up to the front, to make sure I had a good view because if you don't get up front the Rialto Hall, you will simply see nothing. claire rousay was accompanied by a violinist as she played guitar, with her own impressive pedal board. She started the set with the diary-like voice note that is also the first track off of her latest album Sentiment. Like the usual Montreal crowd, people in the back were boisterous and annoying, but slowly but surely the crowd’s noise began to soften like an ocean wave in slow motion hitting the shore. claire rousay completely commanded the crowd with her set acting like one extended song. Halfway through the set, the crowd began sitting down cross-legged on the floor, looking up in awe at the artist. Which she later said to the crowd, “Are you sure you want to sit on the floor? Floors can be disgusting”, with a peal of soft laughter coming from the dark. One couldn’t ask anything more of her performance, strong written music, simple production, played with ease. When it's that simple it’s good and when it’s that good it’s perfection. 

I left the concert feeling ecstatic yet calm. I also got to thank claire rousay personally as another CJLO DJ convinced me to go up and talk to her at the merch table. I should mention it was a stumbling and stuttering thank you. I knew at that time that Egyptian Lover was playing downstairs at the Rialto theatre but after seeing all these bands and walking across the borough, I knew I had to call it quits. And at least, save some energy to do it all over again tomorrow.

Lisa Rupnik is the station manager at CJLO and co-host of The Last Stop. She is also an avid record collector, a “no nonsense” film lover and feels that her personality can be best defined by her two favourite bands: YMO and Sparks.

POP Montreal returned for its annual weekend of concert after concert spread over 5 days, with over 400 artists and bands playing at over 50 venues across the city. On Thursday, CJLO staff attended a few of the shows POP had to offer

Lisa Rupnik

There are a few times in life when things feel just too good to be true. You can’t help but pinch yourself and rub your eyes like an old Bugs Bunny cartoon. It was this giddy feeling that I had when the POP Montreal lineup was first announced. The poster for the festival lineup read like a doctor’s eye chart, but one name was clearly in focus: Beverly Glenn-Copeland.

After he cancelled his 2023 tour due to illness, I amongst many other fans had set our sights low that we could perhaps never see the legend perform. Legend, he is as he has a story even too good for the movies. Being one of the first black students to study music at McGill, Beverly Glenn-Copeland had a very steady if not modest success for the majority of their career. The lack of mainstream acceptance didn’t stop him from creating, I mean what great artist would? Glenn-Copeland collaborated with a bunch of different artists on a bunch of different projects throughout the course of his career, even working on the iconic show Mr. Dressup. 

It wasn’t until his 1986 album Keyboard Fantasies was re-discovered by a Japanese record collector, Ryota Masuko in 2015, that the spotlight was put on Beverly Glenn-Copeland. The album has subsequently received numerous awards, topping many best electronic album lists and has been re-issued by multiple companies. Beverly Glenn-Copeland would have been 71 at the time. 

There couldn’t be an artist more deserving of the outward pouring of love and admiration, his music really is like a gift. Keyboard Fantasies especially reads like a love letter to life itself. The music is so simple, beautiful and perfect. Finding connection and meaning through small moments and appreciation for nature. 

Festivalgoers who bought their tickets in advance (like I did, the second they went on sale) were surprised to see an announcement put out by Beverly Glenn-Copeland just days before he was set to perform. He and his wife Elizabeth, who is an artist in her own right, posted a video online stating that Beverly Glenn Copeland was diagnosed with dementia and that this would be his last tour.

The video was shocking, and struck a personal chord with all of his admirers. I personally, was sharing the video with the people I felt closest with telling them, you better come out to the show it will be something like you’ve never seen before. 

The night of September 26th came as routine as any other night. I was running all day trying to get everything done, including getting to the show on time. That rush came to a sudden halt as soon as I entered the Rialto theatre. It was warm and cozy, like visiting your friend's living room. And a couple of CJLO friends were there, turning their heads around behind their seats and giving cute little waves. 

When Beverly Glenn-Copeland came on he was met with a standing ovation that never ceased to end. In fact, the audience's cheers were so overpowering that Beverly Glenn-Copeland in a joking manner told the audience “If you keep clapping we’re not going to be able to play!” and later said that he deeply appreciated the warm reception. The theme of the night really was that warmth you find in friends. This was reflected by Beverly Glenn-Copeland was on stage with many musicians with gleaming smiles on their faces. Not only did he have his wife Elizabeth on stage, he was also there with his frequent collaborators on piano, percussion and a full children’s choir. The band started with a stripped-down acoustic version of “Ever New” and from that point on the audience was simply enchanted. 

Throughout the concert, we heard many different songs, poetry and stories acting as a sonic collage dedicated to Beverly Glenn-Copeland’s life and career. The audience was moved by his touching stories and also his witty sense of humor, adding in funny little songs he wrote when he was younger about the likes of chicken and dancing. In fact he had ended the concert with a beautiful and heart-wrenching version of “Prince Caspian’s Dream”, a song off his 2023 album The Ones Ahead. The audience was in awe, only to see Beverly Glenn-Copeland and his wife come back on stage and do a little acapella song dancing and smiling together. With Beverly Glenn-Copeland’s final words being “It’s important to end these things on a light note”. 

Lisa Rupnik is the station manager at CJLO and co-host of The Last Stop. She is also an avid record collector, a “no nonsense” film lover and feels that her personality can be best defined by her two favourite bands: YMO and Sparks.

Sam Kitch

This was my first ever POP, and after the neverending high praise it gets around the station, I assumed that my expectations were much too high. Turns out they weren’t! The idea of a festival spread out across a city irked me a little, but the concept works perfectly; too tired? Go home and sleep! Want to get to another show? Take the metro! No longer are festival-goers appetites held hostage by wildly overpriced food trucks, just hit up one of our city's many great hotdog establishments mid-show, and you’re good to go. As wild as it sounds, a sprawling, city-wide festival really does kick some ass. 

My first stop was actually over a week before POP officially started, at Kimya Dawson’s borderline surprise appearance, back on the 12th of September. Kimya heralded her own mini-festival with 3 openers to support her nearly 2-hour long set. Up first was local duo Thanya Iyer and Pompey, playing back-to-back sick-to-your-stomach-type tracks. Songs that make you want to call your mom or ask the stranger beside you on the metro for a hug. A perfect example of this is Pompey’s snug tug, a truly devastating track that switches sporadically between soft and tender melodies and crashing distorted instrumental breaks. After Pompey and Thanya Iyer’s somber performance came self-described punk rapper Myles Bullen. While I can say Myles’s music is not for me, Hobo Johnson fans will find solace in his work.

The following act was more up my alley - and the crowd's as well. Moments after Bullen walked off, the Bollywood-inspired Montreal drag queen Bijuriya strode on stage to thunderous applause, stirring up the parking lot of onlookers instantaneously. Filtering between tightly choreographed moves and witty raps about the cultural state of curry, Bijuriya crammed more entertainment into her 15-minute set than some bigger names display in a 2-hour stadium performance. This eclectic collection of talent, from South Asian bars to heartwrenching ballads, seemed to line Kimya Dawson up perfectly.

A staple in any kid-with-weird-parents childhood, Dawson’s (she/they/grandpa) spanning influence has helped give the world bands like The Strokes, Interpol, The Yeah Yeah Yeah’s, and The Dare. Dawson remains a cult icon and she wears that badge with honour, opting to stick to intimate venues and backyard gatherings. That's exactly what this performance was. Over an hour and a half, Dawson performed any song the crowd yelled, interspersed with anecdotes about wrestling, family, and stupid exes. It felt more like a family gathering than concert, with Kimya “Grandpa” Dawson spreading her wonderful, anti-establishment gospel to a parking lot full of eager grandchildren. A wonderful way to kick off a kick-ass weekend.

The air Thursday night was ripe for bar-to-bar trekking. 6 acts in 6 hours, cutting-edge cyber-psych to legendary hyper-pop, all in one night; that’s what POP is all about! My night started on the edge of Park Extension, in the humble institution, Bar Le Ritz PDB. After a vague kerfuffle at the door, props to the bumbling CJLO mag editor who forgot his press pass, I was in, and just in time to catch 514 native Una Rose. I like to think that rather than making music, Una casts spells. Synth notes float through the air like shards of wind chimes forgotten by time, coming together just briefly enough to be noticed, then falling back to earth. Una floats atop this sonic wall, whispering about loneliness, love, and the occasional shitty ex-boyfriend. Perfect music to sway longingly to –one of my personal favourite concert moves. 

Following up Una Rose’s somber performance came a complete tonal 180 in the shape of Toronto duo Mother Tongues. Mother Tongues’ music is almost physically tangible as it comes out of the speakers, blaring through any 2-beer haze felt by its onlookers and filling even Bar Le Ritz with a noticeable energy. Their sound is reminiscent of Alvvays, if Alvvays existed in a weird, cyber-punk futuristic version of urban Canada. Punches of synth surround the distorted guitars and crawling drum lines that come commonplace in any psych rock. If commercial space travel becomes available in my lifetime, Mother Tongues new album, Love in a Viscious Way, will be the first thing that plays on my intergalactic aux. 

Though I was already late for the next show I had planned to check out, once Toronto singer/songwriter Luna Li took the stage I genuinely could not move an inch closer to the door. While this was due in part to the sardines-like condition of most Bar Le Ritz shows, what really kept me in place was Li’s phenomenal stage presence. Within the first 6 tracks, Li switched between electric and acoustic guitar, harp, keyboard, and violin, all while maintaining a beautiful level of vocal clarity. The performance oozed raw musicality, most notably when Li ditched the microphone for a 20-minute instrumental set. Very rarely do I find myself leaving a venue with a complete loss for words; but there I was, full-speed hoofing it down Park Avenue, unable to form a coherent thought about what I had just witnessed. Without a doubt in my mind, I believe Luna Li was somehow able to perform a complete analytical mind wipe on me, with nothing but raw talent. If that doesn't inspire you to immediately check out her work, I don’t know what would. 

The energy in the basement of the Rialto was noticeably different from Bar Le Ritz, but it was a welcome change. After over 2 hours of synth-pop and psych-rock, I was more than ready for a sonic shift, and the hyperpop blasting through the venue's double doors greeted me like an old friend. Playing the crowd in was Montreal local and hyperpop artist Sineila. Fulfilling the self-produced solo artist stereotype like no other, Sineila’s 45-minute set consisted of her singing and dancing her heart out, taking breaks only to change the instrumental playing from her precariously positioned laptop. While it can often lead to lacklustre performances, this DIY-DJ format fit Sineila’s style perfectly, and when matched with her undying on-stage energy, actually made for a pretty endearing set.

It also made for a big shock when the next act of the night, Faux Real, took to the stage with an entirely different energy. Over the next hour or so, I witnessed more sweat-drenched clothing being ripped off than I would like to admit, as the French-American twins hopped from stage to audience to stage to audience to stage to audience… (once is enough, let's be real.) While their performance was a little lost on me, the almost entirely millennial crowd surrounding me were enthralled - to each their own! As the energy died down, and the permanent sweat stains left on the stage by Faux Real began to dry, I felt myself start to fade. By this point it was 1:30, and, having started my POP experience at 6, I was ready to curl up on the eternally sticky floor of the Rialto and call it a night.

Thankfully, I was jolted awake by the reason I was even out that late: hyperpop legend Cecille Believe. Having spent over a decade in the music industry, with writing and production credits for names like SOPHIE and Kero Kero Bonito, Cecille Believe has made a name for herself as one of the most forward-thinking and creative minds in the genre. Her brief setlist reflected this, with powerful, ethereal hits coming at the audience one after another. With how respected alternative pop has become this year, I’m constantly surprised how Believe has been able to run under the radars of most mainstream audiences, but in all truth, that's where her music ends up making the most waves. The term “your favourite artists favourite artist” is highly applicable when talking about Believe, as one of the most important things she brings to the genre and music as a whole is her influence. Playing an assortment of cuts off of her newest EP, and her featured song on the new posthumous release from SOPHIE, Believe performed as well as someone can at 2 in the morning on a Thursday. While Believe’s set did leave me wanting a little more, I still left the Rialto feeling excited about POP, and eager for more to come.  

There are truly no words to properly articulate how much I enjoyed Piece by Piece,  released on October 11th, 2024. Critically acclaimed director Morgan Neville tells the biographical story of Artist Pharrell Williams, using stop-motion and computerized-animated Legos. When I first heard of this production, I thought, like many others, that this was an interesting, almost bizarre concept. I questioned: Why did the producers decide that Lego was the best medium to illustrate a biography? What was the relevance of such an outlandish presentation? Is this just another Hollywood cash grab, as many people speculated? What was so special about Pharrell Williams being the subject of a documentary?

While Pharrell has become a household name over the years, this documentary presented him, as well as the music industry, in a whole new light. From his childhood in the projects, he tells his story of being a misfit and a kid who struggled in school, both with fitting in and in his learnings. I do not want to give to many spoilers, but it was beautiful to see how his support systems, and music, had driven him to make something of himself. We watch as he struggles at first, but inevitably climbs the ladder of enormous success, working with prominent artists such as Jay-Z, Gwen Stefani, Brittany Spears, Kendrick Lamar, and so many more. What makes this story even more powerful, however, is Pharrell didn’t shy away from showing his humanity, and what inevitably led to the downfall of the first era of his career. He describes that his first singles led to a spiral of losing himself within the industry, driven by his hunger for relevance and fame. While there was more to what Williams was going through ( you will just have to watch the movie to find out the details ), it is his comeback to finding his soul for music and a new outlook on life that made the movie so meaningful. It genuinely made me shed a tear, alone in that dark theatre, surrounded by a couple of families and random stragglers; it was beautiful. How could I not? Besides the content of the documentary, the use of Lego only adds to the film's composition. Firstly, the colourful blocks effortlessly capture the world through Pharrell’s mind as he reveals to the world his synesthesia. It is an extraordinary phenomenon when one stimulates one of their senses, it simultaneously triggers a different sense or cognitive function. In this case, it is hearing sounds that trigger his mind to see colours. Furthermore, Pharrell connects the meaning of his message to the function of Legos because he equates life to a box of Legos. You could follow the instructions and build a life that conforms to society, or, instead, you could follow Pharrell’s lead and give yourself the freedom to dream outside the box and have the courage to build whatever the hell you want. The hardships he has faced have built him into the man he is today as he reached a new height of his success. Many can relate to Pharrell Williams’ struggles, and his story may just help you get re-inspired, as it did for me.

I’m writing this about a week after seeing Lightning Bolt live because I cannot seem to get the night out of my head. The show was something I had been looking forward to since they announced it back in July, and after a venue change and a scare of selling out, my expectations were set very high.

    I first discovered Lightning Bolt back in 2018, when I was first thrust into the world of the online music cannon. Their album Wonderful Rainbow released in 2003, is considered an essential listen for anyone versed in artsy noisy slop. I cannot say I had a huge connection to the band before the show. I’d throw some of their stuff on while biking sometimes to feel like I was being chased or perhaps on my way to defeat some evil force taking over the city, but that was the extent of my listening before the show was coming up. That being said, live noise rock is something I’m always looking for and I became more familiar with their stuff over the end of summer.

    I’d seen a few clips of them playing live in the past. There are some legendary videos of them playing in warehouses, surrounded by a crowd instead of up on a stage. The energy in these videos cannot be understated. Their setup as a band is something worth admiring on its own. Lightning Bolt are a duo with Brian Gibson on bass and Brian Chippendale on drums. They bring the absolute maximum amount of sound out of only two people, both in the studio and live. Chippendale wires a mic up on the inside of his mouth, so he does not have to arch his neck towards a traditional mic stand while he’s furiously drumming. On top of the mouth contraption, he wears one of several homemade masks, usually colorful and messily stitched together, which ends up adding a sense of danger to the live shows. With all this in mind, it had been some time since I’d been this excited to see a band live, despite only being a casual fan.

    While biking down De Maisonneuve to Club Soda, where the show was being held, an actual lightning bolt split the sky between two buildings straight ahead just as it began to drizzle. This could be nothing but a good sign. I arrived in time to see the set of the opener, Crabe, who were in spirit very similar to the main act, but musically very different. Crabe is also an art punk/noise duo on drums and a bass guitar. They have been in the Montreal underground scene for over fifteen years now, I’ve seen them a couple of times before and they always end up being one of the more memorable acts. This was my first time seeing the band perform indoors, and this setting really worked for them. The visual work behind them fluctuated between shots of the performer's faces and twisting, distorting colors. The screens added cohesion to their jumpy, unpredictable tunes. One second, they’d be shouting over samples of bird noises, the next they’d be whispering over a loop while the drummer keeps time with one hand and plays the keyboard with the other. Their set was incredible, and everybody seemed to enjoy it. There was one problem, however; no mosh. 

    My brain is broken, and every concert ends up being an investigation into the demographic of the show as much as it is about enjoying and feeling the music. I love the idea of a scene that changes over time, I guess. I knew Lightning Bolt were legendary for the Pitchfork generation, who end up being usual suspects at these kinds of shows. The kind of people who were listening to Neutral Milk Hotel in 2005 before their cultural relevance as a weird meme and or reason not to go on a second date. Sure enough, the room was full of mostly darkly dressed, bearded men pushing forty, standing there with their arms crossed. These crowds are minefields of both the coolest and worst people you’ll ever meet, but often end up with the no moshing problem, due to age or pretension or something. 

I was scared by this point that there would be no movement for Lightning Bolt, which was one of the main reasons I was at this show. Their music is perfect for moshing, in my eyes. They are brutally fast, and destructive, but their abrasive style does not come from a place of anger. There is color to their chaos, and a sense of playfulness to their breakneck riffing. This feeling is illustrated very well on their album covers which are painted by Brian Chippendale himself.  A mosh pit should not be a place to get punched in the stomach. Moshing is a group dance; it’s meant to be a good time. Looking around, the crowd did not have any of the mosh criminals I’m all too used to running into at hardcore shows. There were no short, shirtless men to leave me covered in half an inch of their sweat. There were no agitated meatheads to launch me so hard I backflip onto an unsuspecting soul across the room. Yet, there was no movement.

Outside, between acts, I was expressing my worries when my drummer friend assured me that the odd time signatures and constant switching of pace in Crabe’s music was the only thing preventing a proper pit from forming. I checked out the merch table during the break, where Chippendale’s visual art was on sale as well as some homemade jackets. Even their merch table had character.

When the two Brians got on stage, maskless and dressed like my father, the room was electric. People cheered as Chippendale put the mic inside his mouth and pulled tonight’s mask over his face. With distortion, reverb, delay and a slough of phasers over his voice, he welcomed us to the show and talked about how amazed he was by Crabe’s performance. Gibson remained silent for pretty much the entire show, it was Chippendale who carried the stage presence. Lit up in red, and with the screen behind him fixed on the masked face, he looked like a dictator channelling his subordinates in some alien noise rock dystopia. He began just shouting into the mic before he started playing, the noise was already piercing my ears. They managed to maintain the energy of a bar gig while playing at Club Soda, which is a feat all by itself.

When the band started, it was even louder than I had anticipated. I was thrust into a void of noise and peaking eardrums. People were still not moving. My fears were growing. I had to get theoretical. When the music is fast enough, there exists an Archimedean point in the crowd, a correct person to push, that could catalyze a pit that will not stop for the rest of the show. My friends and I had this pathetic four-person mosh going when I accidentally pushed a guy in front of me. The following chain of pushes happened like clockwork. The size of the pit was snowballing, and I could not stop smiling at what we had created. By the second track, the pit was taking on a serpentine shape, slowly inching its way to the stage from where we’d started in the centre-back. By the third track, the snake had exploded in all directions, the mosh was a red giant, engulfing every planet regardless of volition. 

The rest of the show was a genuine blur. The setlist is unknowable and honestly hardly matters with this type of band. I was being thrashed around the entirety of the Club Soda floor, there were no limits to where the washing machine would shoot me. Occasionally, my eyes would fix on the stage enough to be fully bewildered by the skill being demonstrated up there. I got to catch a few of Brian Chippendale’s iconic stick flips that he throws in mid-200-BPM-breakdown without skipping a beat. The visuals on the screen behind the band went from vibrating stills of elaborate cartoon nonsense into sprawling animations of uncontrollable battlefields and other zany antics. It matched the music incredibly well.

The band took only one break, while Brian Gibson fixed something with the equipment. Chippendale stood up and started doing what was essentially stand-up comedy with six layers of vocal effects and a mask from an undiscovered student slasher film. He recounted a story about a lost spaghetti noodle inside one of their amps, while the mic was still deep in his mouth and every word still crushed my skull with walls of sound. He also shouted out the 1972 Italian song ‘Prisencolinensinainciusol,’ which was written in gibberish to sound like American English. He asked the crowd a few times very casually if we knew what he was talking about, he could not remember the name of the song.

When the band stopped playing for the last time, and the crowds shuffled outside together, it became evident that I had done some serious damage to my hearing. A nearby dep became infested with thirsty people yelling into each other's faces trying to be heard. The ringing added an eeriness to the world. I could not even tell what song was playing from the speaker above me. A man at the cash commented that he expected the show to be louder. I’ve meandered on this comment quite a bit over the week. It took three full days for the ringing to leave my ears, how could that possibly have been his takeaway? 

From now on I might wear earplugs to noise shows, since I’d really prefer to be able to hear in my 50s, but if anything is going to deafen me permanently, I think Lightning Bolt live is not a bad pick.