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Eleanor The Great: a review
*Warning: reader discretion is advised while reading this article, as the subject matter of death and the holocaust is mentioned often.”
Eleanor The Great (Currently playing in limited release Cineplex Forum, version originale avec sous-titres français (Cinémathèque québécoise /Montréal, Cinéma Le Clap Ste-Foy/Québec, Le Tapis Rouge/Trois-Rivière, with a wider release in the coming weeks )
Dir: Scarlett Johansson
Starring: June Squibb, Erin Kellyman, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Rita Zohar
Run Time: 1hr38min
Eleanor the Great was never on my radar of releases of the year, but I heard of it from a work colleague at the theatre. When I first heard mention of the title and director, debut for actress Scarlet Johansson, I didn’t know if I let out a groan or a sigh, as what conjured in my mind was another historical period bio picture film just in time for award season. Johansson set her desire and aspirations from a young age for the role of director, having observed the late Robert Redford directing during The Horse Whisperer. A quick research on the film led me to a contrary thought of interest when I read June Squibb, who I found to be a delightful comedic revelation opposite Bruce Dern in Nebraska (2013), as the title character, Eleanor. Maybe this was not going to be the period piece I might have been dreading in my head from the title alone. Rather, the film delves into themes of aging, Jewish identity, dealing with grief and intergenerational friendship.
94-year-old Eleanor (June Squib) and her best friend Bessie (Rita Zohar), for the past 10 years, have been living as roommates in Florida, where they go shopping together, exercise and enjoy each other's company through conversations. Pointing out their synchronization in an early scene when both are putting on their shoes at the same time with the same movements. Sometimes these conversations are of the past as Bessie is a holocaust survivor, imparts her stories to Eleanor. After Bessie dies suddenly, Eleanor moves to New York to reconnect with her daughter (Jessica Hatchet) and her grandson (Will Price) in the hopes that this will help with the grief of the loss of her friend. However, her daughter is out of the house most days, and starts talking about a retirement home with a better sense of community, and her grandson seems to be occupied with his friends despite his love for his grandmother. Eleanor seems lost and invisible, missing that connection she had with Bessie
Her daughter suggests taking classes at the local JJC community centre. Eleanor ends up going; however, instead of going into a class, she unknowingly walks into a support group for Holocaust survivors, who welcome her into the group. On the spot, she shares one of Bessie’s stories, unbeknownst to the consequences that will follow her. Also in the group is Nina, a journalism student who befriends a reluctant Eleanor and decides to make her class assignment topic on Eleanor’s life, even if it’s Bessie’s life. Eleanor distances herself at first, but, feeling alone and isolated, starts digging a deeper hole by telling stories that are not her own. Despite the generational gap, both Nina and Eleanor bond and help each other overcome their grief and loss, as Nina has recently lost her mother. Along with this, Eleanor reflects on her own Jewish identity, having converted when she married her husband, goes to synagogue with Nina and even prepares for her own BatMitzvah. However, as their friendship becomes stronger, their bond may become fractured upon the reveal of Eleanor’s true self.
The film is a bit clunky as we follow Eleanor down the path of not telling the whole truth of the matter, even though she thinks she means well. I can see how some viewers, especially survivors of the holocaust, will take issue with this narrative function of the film. It was never her story to tell, but Eleanor uses the story as a memory of her friend to help overcome the internal grief she is dealing with over that friend's loss. The same can be said for Nina, who latches on to the support group, and Eleanor, to deal with the loss of her mother. What I can commend the film for as well is the oral history preservation, as painful as it is, it is important so it does not repeat itself. Johansson worked closely with the USC Shoah Foundation for the subplot of the film about Holocaust survivors, as real survivors were cast for the support group. In summary, a solid debut on loss and grief and the friends we find along the way from director Scarlett Johansson. June Squibb is great as Eleanor when the comedy elements come in, but also helms the emotional core of the film alongside her co-star Erin Kellyman. Here’s hoping for some award recognition for June Squibb when award season comes around.
⭐⭐⭐/⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Remi is the host of At The Movies, along with regular Co-Host Danny Auber,y every Tuesday morning from 9-10 AM only on CJLO 1690 AM. They cover local film festivals, have interviews with directors and actors, and talk about a new film or the classics. As well as the iconic sounds of present and past film scores and soundtracks. Follow Remi on Letterboxd.
Genre-Blending Spill Tab at Bar Le Ritz
No artist sounds quite like Spill Tab. The genre-blending songs merge alternative pop with jazz nuances. Claire Chica, the creative force behind these entrancing tracks, is a 28-year-old singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and producer. Born in Thailand, raised in Paris, and now based in LA, she crafts English and French songs layered with energetic rhythms, desire, nostalgia, and angst.
On September 26th, Chica brought her colour-changing lamps to decorate the stage of Bar le Ritz for the Pop Montreal Festival. Inviting the audience into her world, she made the venue feel at home as she introduced her new album, Angie, released on May 16th, 2025. An album that I’ve been constantly listening to since its release. Drawing from a horrible breakup that inspired the album, she created a cathartic experience that the audience could feel through her beautiful voice and crazy instrumentals. Between songs, Chica and her bass player entertained the crowd with jokes, keeping spirits high while resolving technical issues and setting up equipment. Nearly every song from the new album was performed, including the thirty-second "Morning Dew Interlude," giving the audience a chance to absorb the album's musical complexity. As a spontaneous addition, Spill tab performed "Runner" by Alex G, inspired by a moment of boredom during soundcheck. The set ended with "Assis," with Chica stating it was great to be somewhere where her French songs could be understood.
Before Spill tab was Maddie Davis, the opening act, who set the tone with her alt-rock/pop music. She was joined by a guitarist and a backing track as she performed tracks from her new EP “Smile at the Good,” released July 18th and a couple of songs from her last EP “RAGE”. Following a similar structure to Spill Tab's set, she included one cover. Her rendition of “The One That Got Away” by Katy Perry was even sadder than the original, thanks to her melodic, reverbed voice and the echoing electric guitars. Although I hadn’t heard of her before, her songs “What if?”, “RAGE,” and “Goodbye for Now” stayed with me long after the concert.
The September 16th show of Spill Tab and Maddy Davis was perfect for anyone going through a breakup with its sad, vengeful, and nostalgic themes. I heavily suggest the new Spill Tab album, Angie, to all who want to widen their music taste; it’s guaranteed to impress you!
Nourished By Time Ignites Passion at Le Studio TD
This being the first concert I've attended solo, I had no idea what to expect walking into Studio TD last week to see Nourished By Time. Showing up fifteen minutes before showtime to a practically empty room made me feel too visible, too seen. But people pooled in, and it allowed me to observe the demographic and feel present in the room, alone but part of a collective.
Standing in the spaced-out crowd, I noticed a dad and his daughter joking together at a table and an older couple in front of me with arms around each other. A familiar face walked through the crowd, and it took me a second to realize it had been Marcus of Nourished By Time (himself!) making his way somewhere in the back of the crowd to watch the opening act.
Zsela paralyzed us all with a sound that moved through every inch of the space. She paired the smoothest of voices with a bass that felt like the building would collapse on us with every drop, but the crowd stood hypnotized, swaying and staring at her fluid presence. She snapped us out of it by requesting two deep breaths from the room, and I knew that I was in for something spiritually awakening.
Nourished By Time had a similar effect, immediately getting to business with his first song off of The Passionate Ones, “Automatic Love”. The first thing that drew me to his stage presence was a pink scarf he kept with him, dancing with it and taking ownership of the stage more and more with every movement and verse. I’m not exaggerating when I say he never. stopped. moving. And neither did I, something I didn’t think I’d be capable of, being so self-conscious just a moment earlier. It was when he played “Daddy”, probably my absolute favourite song of his, that I felt the energy rise significantly around me. Some of us were jumping up and down, and I didn’t even care to think of how silly I must have looked because it felt so necessary, especially with his next song being “9 2 5”, the most fun track off the recent album. He tied his scarf around the wire of the mic right near the top, and proceeded to raise it in the air above his head and then slung it over his shoulder, allowing the long pink scarf to drape over him as he worked the keys. Someone at the very front was filming with a PlayStation Vita, which put my little digicam to shame.
“It’s all for him” is what I have written in my notes from that night. He danced as if he were the only person in the room, alone with his music and himself. As he sang “Max Potential”, the lyrics mirrored his act and album concept so accurately: “You’re not passionate at all, and that’s all on you.”. Songs like that make you want to lock yourself in your room for days and never stop creating. The older gentleman who was with his wife from earlier was in front of me and was wearing a backwards hat that said “(art)”, and I thought, “yes! yes! exactly!”.
With a diverse demographic, the most heart-wrenching (yet unavoidably danceable) music, and the fueling of passion in your heart, Nourished By Time is a performance everyone
should see if they wish to be reminded that we should all be working towards something greater than ourselves, and that you should never stop moving.
Projet Montreal announces Gracia Kasoki Katawha as executive commitee president
FME 2025: A Review
“So you got the FME virus and you’re here for the cure,” remarked one of the many volunteers who make the festival possible. That cure? A sonic elixir composed of music, music and more music. Over the four days of Labour Day weekend, August 28th through the 31st, the northern Quebec city of Rouyn-Noranda served as the incubator for the vaccine. So began the twenty-third edition of FME, Festival Music Emergent 2025.
The first dose of the anti-virus arrived on Thursday with a trio of bands at the Cabaret du La Dernière Chance. Leading off was Crasher, a three-piece electronic punk band fronted by Airick Asher Woodhead on lead vocals, Kai Thorpe on bass and this evening, the driver of the band, Tyrin Kelly, on drums.
Neysa Mae Barnett and Emile Larroche are UTO, an electronic pop duo from Paris, France. Dressed in da-glo neon green outfits with matching glow-in-the-dark electronic keyboards, they offered up cuts from their back catalogue and from their latest release, More Heat to the Fire Part of Fire, and yes, parts of the show were fire, but parts of the show could have used a bit more heat. Although, to the band's credit, in the black light-lit venue, it all appeared quite futuristic, so that was pretty cool.
Festival veterans Bibi Club, out of Montreal, Adèle Trottier-Rivard on vocals and keyboards and Nicolas Basque on guitar, closed out the evening. The duo showcased their latest work, Feu De Garde. They were clearly having a great time powering through their hour-long set that was more aggressive and much more amplified than the highly produced studio album. Quite often, guitarist Basque could be found prancing all over the small stage, hamming it up, even invading the space of Trottier-Rivard while she was lighting up the keyboards. All to the great delight of the adoring, appreciative, packed house.
Breaking away from the art pop theme of the first day, Population II hit the main stage Friday night. With Pierre-Luc Gratton on vocals and drums, Tristan Lacombe on guitar and keyboards, and Sébastien Provençal on bass proved that old school rock and roll is alive and well. Blending psychedelic rock and funk, the Montreal trio spun tight jams often just on the edge of control.
Friday, the first full day of the festival, had scheduled the highly anticipated appearance of the band Solids at Cabaret de la Dernière Chance. The punk duo of Xavier Germain Poitras on guitar & vocals and Louis Guillemette on drums & vocals were returning to the stage after a five-year absence. From their performance, one could see that they had built up a lot of pent-up energy over those five years as they blasted through their critically acclaimed album, Blame Confusion. The packed, stifling hot venue appreciated every moment of their return to the extent of even demanding a couple of encores that the band wasn’t really prepared for.
Pounding a riff into the ground until it screamed for mercy, Montreal’s experimental rock trio Yoo Doo Right got the ball rolling for the Solids set with a hot, high-energy performance of their own.
FME is famous for its pop-up, impromptu concerts that take place throughout Rouyn-Noranda. Often held in an alley, park or parking lot, the city becomes encased in music. Frequently heard in the background, the music floats adrift in the breeze, past with one left wondering or even searching for the source. Garage/ pop band La Flemme provided such an event Saturday afternoon when they could be heard along the boardwalk. Like Sirens of yore, the calling of the band's groovy rhythms was able to lure unwary bystanders away from their shopping and onto a nearby bench.
A day earlier, a tad before midnight Friday ,Baby Berserk took over the parking lot of the local poutine establishment. Hailing from Amsterdam, the pop trio seemed quite at home with the DIY nature of the event. Clad in a bright red raincoat, lead singer Eva Wijnbergen was definitely not lost in the woods when, while pumping out disco-infused synthpop for the ages, she climbed up a nearby lamp post. Much to the delight of the bemused viewers.
Toronto’s OBGMs (The oOohh Baby Gimme Mores) graced the main outdoor stage Saturday night. Powered by drummer Colanthony Humphrey, guitarist Simon Outhit, bassist Joe Brosnan and the vocals of Densil McFarlane, the OBGMs fuse punk, rock, and hip-hop. McFalane often jumped into the amped up crowd as he belted out songs from their much-acclaimed album, The Ends.
In hindsight, everything that happened Saturday night seemed to lead up to the late-night, last show of the evening that was being held in the dank, spooky basement of Petit Thèâtre du Vieux Noranda. Unaware of what was about to happen, soaking in the goth atmosphere, like a deer in the headlights when the few houselights dim, then a suppressed atom waiting to explode from its nucleus that goes by the name, Baby Volcano, erupted onto the FME scene. Combining Latin American rhythms with hybrid-pop, the Swiss-Guatemalan artist melded music and dance into a trippy, strobe lights-accentuated psychedelic frenzy. Singing in both French and Spanish, and a background in contemporary dance, Baby Volcano is the nom de guerre of artist Lorena Stadelmann.
Sunday, alas Sunday, the final day of the festival, filled with ominous dread, the end of FME for another year. To help soothe the soul, there was an afternoon concert by Vancouver’s Empanadas Illegales. With their jammy salsa cumbia rhythms and infectious grooves, the sextet provided the perfect musical backdrop for a lovely Sunday afternoon in a park. Or in this case, the city's botanical gardens. The band, Jaime Millan guitar, Ricardo Perez guitar and vocals, Andrea Milagros maracas, Jocelyn Waugh trumpet, Alonso Benavente Fortes congas and percussion and Daniel Ruiz drums, timbales and vocals, had the smiling crowd dancing to their beat all while munching on the complimentary corn roast.
With the famous metal extravaganza and closing concerts not until late into the evening hours, there was still time to catch the last of the unscheduled pop-up concerts. This one was being held at a picturesque stage along the lakeside boardwalk of Parc Trémoy. For those who missed her extraordinary performance the night before Baby Volcano was scheduled. Sprung from the familiar confines of an atmospheric, dark, dank basement and exposed to the bright sunshine and an all-age audience, the band seem to take it as a challenge to escape from their norm. Singing in both French and Spanish with a background in contemporary dance, gone were the trippy strobe lights and some of the artistic frills; in their stead was the depth of their repertoire. Donning a blonde wig and channelling, much to the surprise and applause of the audience, Baby Volcano’s alter ego of sort, a classical flamenco guitarist.
The big closing event featured Les Freaks de Montréal and their homage to legendary Quebec band Aut’Chose or as they say, “Un bummage à Aut’Chose.” Featuring the star-studded collective which brought together members of Voïvod, GrimSkunk, Groovy Aardvark, Tricky Woo, and Entre Aut’. Joining them for this special night was a who’s who of the festival lineup. Putting their own take on the classic songs, Montreal art pop artist N Nao and Pierre-Luc Gratton from Population ll were just two of many to join in the celebration of Aut’Chose. The concert certainly lived up to the hype, but unfortunately for the following band, they raised the bar quite high that not many could match.
From the classic rock of Aut’Chose to the bizarre Psych/Fusion of Montreal band TEKE::TEKE. Or was this FME’s version of And Now For Something Completely Different? The psychedelic rock septet fuses Japanese folk, Brazilian garage and psych rock. “While gazing at the sky one afternoon, TEKE::TEKE vocalist Maya Kuroki saw a cloud that looked like it had a bite taken out of it. The word that came to her mind, Hagata. Something profound: a trace, a mark, or a presence left behind, a sense of duality—of being in-between worlds.” This was taken from the band's press release used to describe their album, the music they perform and just by chance, maybe even the festival they performed at.
The metal show, always Sunday night, an FME icon in its own right, scheduled Montreal’s deathcore legends Despised Icon to end the trio of metal bands (Digital Ghosts and Scorching Tomb were the prior). Pounding the metal pavement for twenty-odd years, the band did not show any signs of slowing down. Dual lead vocalists, Alex Erian and Steve Marois, pummeled the sold-out theatre with machine gun-like short wrap style vocals behind the crashing, mosh pit frenzied beats of Alex Pelletier on drums, Sebastien Pichè on bass and Eric Jarrin on lead guitar.
For those who refused to call it a night, there was one last chance to dance, to sway, to postpone the inevitable. Automelodi at the small outdoor Fizz Stage. The alley is dark, the stage afire in red light while the fog machine works overtime. The dense electronic grooves of Montreal synthpop songwriter/producer Xavier Paradis seem to be the perfect match for the moment. Then it ends abruptly without warning. Our hero leaves, exiting into the dark night. No encore, no more FME. The brain and body reel, longing for sensory overload. The late-night DJ turns up the volume, pumping out the beats for the few remaining stragglers. The kids dance and shake their bones while the old folks drink the last of their beer and stare at the barren festival site. Despite the DJ’s best efforts to keep the antidote flowing, the FME virus could already be felt lingering in the Rouyn-Noranda air. In a last-ditch attempt to fight off the infection, highlights of the festival, memories of the last four days, attempt to serve in lieu of the vaccine. The past, even one so soon, proves to be a placebo at best. For Festival Music Emergent is always about the future, and the real cure is still a year away at FME 2026.
Tristan Lacombe (keyboards ) and Pierre-Luc Gratton (drums) of Population II.
Baby Volcano and friends.
Les Freaks de Montréal “Un bummage à Aut’Chose”
Densi McFalane of the OBGMs out among the faithful.
Frankie Cosmos, Moontype, and Fantasy of a Broken Heart; the perfect show for music lovers
Frankie Cosmos gave Montreal's music lovers a memorable night. On September 16th, at the intimate venue Bar le Ritz, Frankie Cosmos performed with opening bands Moontype and Fantasy of a Broken Heart. I have never attended a concert where every band impressed me so much. With every artist, I felt as if I was discovering a new favourite, as they each showcased unique and impressive musical talents.
The first act was Moontype, a band from Washington. Margaret McCarthy, the lead vocalist, brought a soft and delicate singing voice while playing the bass. A perfect fit for the folk-inspired lyrics. A paradoxical yet harmonious contrast to the two electric guitars and drums, which played energetically, bringing a dancing rhythm to the music. Moontype is what Big Thief would sound like if it were a rock band. “Let me Cry” and “Four Hands II” were my favourite songs of their set; the latter was recommended to me during my interview with Greta from Frankie Cosmos.
The second act brought their New York charm to the stage. Fantasy of a Broken Heart showed up in style. Bailey Wollowitz sang with a beautiful pop singer's voice, like Alvvays, and showed off her trendy yet original fashion sense while wearing an awesome sailor’s hat. Al Nardo, the other half of the musical duo, had a darker voice reminiscent of The National, and brought his own flair to the stage dressed in a grunge ’90s outfit. The guitarist and drummer, not part of the official band, were twinning in pink shaggy hairdos. Their eccentric aesthetics went far past their presentation as they brought a unique perspective to the pop genre with their energetic stage presence, altering their musical style with every song. Listen to any of their music and you’ll also be a new fan.
Finally, there was Frankie Cosmos. The band from New York got brought to fame in 2016 with the songs “Fool” and “Sappho” from the album Next Thing. Now many albums later, the indie band is on tour for their Different Talking album. The live renditions of the songs were even more mesmerizing than the recordings. Starting off their set with “Vanity”, a bitter but fun song that immediately lured the audience into Greta Kline’s, the lead vocalist and songwriter’s, vulnerable universe. Other remarkable songs were “Pressed Flower”, a great song for the crowd to dance and sway to. After playing “Fool” as the second last song, all three bands joined together to play “Bitch Heart”, creating a memorable and cute moment, where it’s clear the band's members are all good friends. Everyone was super down to earth and even stayed after their concerts around the venue, enjoying themselves and talking to fans. The bands’ passion for music was infectious, creating a truly one-of-a-kind concert for all to enjoy.
The Brian Jonestown Massacre Rule, Okay?
In the pantheon of great indie rock beefs, The Brian Jonestown Massacre versus The Dandy Warhols looms large, mostly due to its thorough documentation in the highly acclaimed 2004 rock doc Dig! If you know, you know, and you probably have already picked a team. I have been and remain Team Dandys, and have seen them live many times, most recently this past March.
While both bands sport clever 1960s portmanteau names and lean heavily into druggy psych, I've always connected more closely to The Dandy Warhols' studied glammy pop and roots country sensibilities. I just wasn't ready for BJM's raw, pared-back introspection.
It seems silly in retrospect. If you listen to both bands, you can hear the similarities in each, one brighter and the other more moody, one with a sharper swagger, the other with a bit more creeping chaos. Like dawn and dusk, their sounds are defined in contrast, but also in coalition, during a very specific moment in the history of music born in the mid-90s Pacific Northwest.
I've come to appreciate The Brian Jonestown Massacre aesthetic more in recent years, with newer psych acts inspiring me to dig back in time and rediscover the sounds to which I wasn't previously drawn. Team Dandys or not, I hadn't ever seen Brian Jonestown Massacre, and I knew it was time to right that wrong. That's how I found myself at the Beanfield Theatre on a Saturday night, surrounded by a more surprisingly diverse audience than I anticipated.
I used to think that the best job in music belonged to Slipknot's touring percussionists (wear outfits and occasionally hit things, what a gig), but I now know that job belongs to Joel Gion. For over 30 (more or less continuous) years, Gion has been playing tambourine (and occasionally maracas!) for BJM, elevating looking bored standing in the middle of the stage to an art form. He is the embodiment of that very specific musical aesthetic of the mid-90s I allude to earlier: elegantly detached, art school cool, just a little bit above it all.
Likely that detachment comes from a bit of necessity. Despite his placement center stage, everyone knows who the real star of BJM really is, the wild, mercurial id to Gion's rhythmic, unbothered chk-chk-chk superego. The Brian Jonestown Massacre is Anton Newcombe, the band's singularly most enduring, if not most stable, member. Working alongside him for 30 years can't possibly be easy, and Gion, along with many past and current members, has quit the band multiple times.
Famously volatile, Newcomb was on his best, if still unpredictable, behaviour. Well into his 50s, Newcomb isn't above an onstage brawl if he deems it necessary, and the uncertainty of what might happen at a BJM show has added to their mythology. You wouldn't necessarily know it to look at him. Newcomb channelled Neil Young via hippie music teacher on stage last night, laminated sheet music laid out on a stand in front of him. Yes, the between-song banter got a little rambly and inscrutable, and yes, he did restart "Fudge", a song from their twentieth and most recent album, The Future is Your Past, about 30 seconds in, but these are par for the course. Anyone hoping for an onstage meltdown was likely disappointed.
If anything, the show may have been more reserved than some anticipated. Changeovers between songs were long, and the crowd's impatience was palpable at times. In the end, the low-energy crowd struggled to bring back the band for an encore, but it stands somewhat to reason: The last song was an ultra-extended version of "Super-Sonic" featuring Rishi Dhir from Montreal's own Elephant Stone on the sitar, which, while wonderfully captivating, got louder and louder, leaving the audience sated, if not exhausted. It was an excellent closer, and I agree with the band that there was no encore needed.
In the end, am I still Team Dandys? Of course, I can't help myself. But The Brian Jonestown Massacre have managed to capture a little piece of my heart, so many years along, and that's not too bad at all.
Massacre in Montreal! The Brian Jonestown Massacre hits Théatre Beanfield
The sweet September air is ripe with the promise of magic, whimsy and enchantment, none of which will ever be as palpable as it was in the walk over to the Théatre Beanfield. As I headed there in my beat-up platform Jordan Doc Marten boots (a concert staple), my wired headphones beamed The Brian Jonestown Massacre straight into my ears in preparation for the show I was en route to see. After a slightly unaccounted-for kerfuffle at the box office, I entered the raked auditorium (my favourite concert viewing experience) of the Théatre Beanfield and settled into my nook on stage right.
No sooner had I found my spot than opener, Minneapolis's own Flavor Crystals, wandered onstage. Meandering into their set of a genre-bending, rather indefinable blend of psychedelic shoegaze adjacent alt-rock jumble, I thought I understood their schtick. That is, until drummer Jon Menke exploded into action, transforming their standardly enjoyable – if derivative – set into a dynamic, animalistic experience of a definitive punk rock flavour. Just when I thought I knew what was in store, I was dealt yet another blow when lead singer and guitarist Josh Richardson brought out a melodica, infusing a layer of twang and eclectic charm to the already quirked-up set. Out of left field is how I’d describe the act, in the most earnestly appreciative way possible. The only moment I let my cynicism get the better of me was when Richardson, upon finishing the set, threw his guitar on the ground and marched off stage, a move which teetered towards Pete Townsend fanboy cosplay far too much for my liking; I could have done without the slightly brutal reminder that I was watching a bunch of middle aged men live out their fantasy of being rockstars.
After being left with residual full-body vibrations from the Flavor Crystals’ magnetically percussive set, I settled back in for Brian Jonestown Massacre (despite battling some of the worst concert etiquette from the inter-generational crowd). Emerging from backstage in a slightly somnambulant fashion earned by their *mature* age bracket, was the band, Brian Jonestown Massacre themselves. Anton Newcombe was dressed to the nines, or at least for some sort of occasion one couldn’t quite pinpoint, donning a feather in his cap (literally and figuratively). Ditching the introductory preamble, the band erupted into “Whoever You Are” from their 2008 record Give It Back!. Rather than staying loyal to a particular album, the band opted for something of a “best-of” setlist, spanning their varied discography throughout the years.
Most captivating to me was the presence of Joel Gion, dedicated tambourine and maraca player, who notably wore bug-eye goggles and looked as though he was in a hypnotized trance. I’m not entirely sure he knew he was playing a show. While the entire band stayed true to their dad-like “Boomer” essence, with Newcombe playing mostly with his back turned to the audience, and between song breaks awkwardly long enough for millennial fans to craft the perfect Snapchat story, it only made their bumbling stage presence all the more authentically endearing.
In this political moment, it is almost impossible for artists from the States to ignore the turmoil into which their country is rapidly plummeting, and this was no different for Brian Jonestown Massacre, with Newcombe expressing that, “I don’t know what’s going on there, but I didn’t do it”. This sentiment is made all the more humorous considering his own past controversial presence, engaging in frequent brawls with band members and audience members alike, in addition to a habit of callously speaking his mind without consideration. Continuing this brief stand-up comedy interlude, Newcombe jested that “if I had a million dollars I’d make Morrissey make me a fucking hamburger and shut up” almost entirely unprompted.
After relocating to a higher vantage point around the halfway point (due to the frankly unbearably irritating behaviour in the pit), the band launched into “Anemone”, a clear crowd favourite. Almost as though connected through a hive-mind, the crowd moved and swayed as one together in a trance, mimicking the movement quality of the tendrils of a sea anemone itself. To close out the show, they performed “Super-Sonic”, the magnum opus of the night, even bringing out a Sitar (played by Rishi Dhir from Elephant Stone, according to setlist.fm). The proto-orchestral malleable wall of sound sounded as though the guitars were alive and screaming (leading me to question at times if the scream-sounds were coming from the crowd itself), which, when blended with the tinnitus in my ears, created an unbelievably vibrant crescendo to end off the night. As I was among the first to lead the mass exodus of concert-goers, I felt a pleasant buzz which carried me through Griffintown in a somnambulant state of my own. I left with the sense that I had gained some kind of insight from this motley crew of geriatric rockstars, although I’m not quite sure yet what exactly it was.
McKinley Dixon’s Magic, Alive! Tour will revive you
Heading to the McKinley Dixon show on Monday, I was so tired. I mean, it was a Monday. Mondays are typically reserved for reconciling the weekend and doomscrolling. Despite the fatigue hanging on my body, I knew McKinley Dixon would be unmissable. So I stumbled to La Sala Rossa, somewhat revived from a Trip de Bouffe sandwich and my curiosity for the show ahead. Dixon is touring for his latest album, Magic, Alive!, which was released this past June. The album received much critical acclaim and cemented his identity as an incredibly thorough, versed artist and storyteller.
To be honest, I had never heard of McKinley Dixon until Magic, Alive! caused enough buzz to appear in the CJLO Tapeworm picks, and therefore trickled down to my inbox, and then my earbuds. Dixon’s incredibly intelligent lyricism, paired with jazzy instrumentation, makes for an immersive and soulful listening experience. The sunny track titled “We’re Outside, Rejoice!” quickly became one of my July and August anthems.
And so, walking into the venue, I was hoping for upbeat rejuvenation - for that, I didn’t even have to wait for the main act. Rita Yemeli was the opener for Dixon’s Montréal tour stop, and she certainly brought the energy. The Montréal-based artist sang tracks from her recent album Hemle; she had the crowd in their feels with ‘Affection’, and then had them dancing again for an extended version of ‘Kongossa’, an English/Spanish/French song that felt like the soundtrack of a Montréal summer. Needless to say, the energy was there for when McKinley Dixon appeared, starting strong with ‘Sugar Water’. On the stage, Dixon and his band — which solely consisted of a drummer and an electronic keyboardist – were in complete harmony. They all showcased extreme talent, immense focus, and a whole lot of stank faces, indicating the collective passion that makes McKinley Dixon an incredible artist and a magical live experience. There is no question that the highlight of the night was seeing how much the band loved to perform – and in turn, how excited the audience was to have this music shared with them.
Even though I only came across McKinley Dixon this summer, by the time he reappeared for the encore to perform the beautiful and significant ‘Run, Run, Run’, I knew I was sure to be a long-time fan.
The Pogues Ignite MTelus with a Raucous Celebration of Shane MacGowan
Who knew Boomers could jump four inches into the air, repeatedly? Anyone caught in the ebullience of The Pogues’ high-energy set at MTelus on September 12th would have witnessed elders defying their years, pogoing, bobbing, hooting, and expressing genuine glee for a legendary band whose return to our city was highly anticipated. With a venue near capacity, the cool September weather did its part to keep the air conditioning in check, much appreciated given the colossal metabolic activity on both the floor and the stage.
Kicking things off promptly at eight was Montreal blues guitarist Shane Murphy, known in west end circles for his omnipresence in bars, clubs, and local media. Though Murphy and his trio may have had the chops, and the pedigree, to sustain attention as an opener, his brand of snake-shuffling, delta-style blues proved to be a curious choice, running counter to the type of aggressive folk-punk pioneered by The Pogues. As such, audience members could be seen milling about during his ten-song performance, while conserving energy for what they sensed was coming. It was a wise decision.
A carefully curated set of tracks followed, transporting the crowd to 80s England during set change with impromptu sing-alongs breaking out to indelible anthems from the likes of Billy Bragg and the Clash. The soundtrack appeared to work its magic, imbuing listeners with that distinctly rebuffed era of Thatcherism, while paying homage to a British scene firmly in keeping with The Pogues’ countercultural roots. A simple backdrop of a cantered ship in a bottle brilliantly summed up the band's ethos, turning microcosmic traditions on their head as they plowed forthright, creating new rules, consequences be damned.
With the stage becoming a litter of mandolins, banjos, drum kits, horns and keys, sensations were heightened without a note being played. By the time The Pogues launched into fiery opener ‘The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn’, the crowd was reeling – tempered, even - as they absorbed the sixteen members pulling out all stops. With core original members Spider Stacey on tin flute, James Fearnley on accordion, and the great Jem Finer alternating between banjo and hurdy gurdy duties, the stage was populated with a who’s who of Irish and British musical talent. Among the many worth singling out were Bad Seeds drummer James Sclavunos on drums, Glasgow harp player/vocalist Iona Zajac, and the ever-steadfast uilleann piper/flutist Fiachra Meek, whose support on the tin flute gave Stacey reprieve, allowing him to allot much-needed lung power to his main vocal duties.
With a rat-a-tat onslaught of spirited jigs and amped folk music, The Pogues are famed for, the audience took several songs to fully immerse themselves in the joyous cacophony the collective was peddling. Then, suddenly, an about face: Beer suddenly flew, and bodies floated as a human sea permitted itself to give in to the vigour. Henceforth, the Montreal crowd, as it’s famous for, didn’t disappoint, giving Stacey much to play into throughout the rest of the performance. Drawn-out periods for arrangement of the Byzantine musical setups allowed the charismatic front man to practice his French, gently provoke, and otherwise banter with his bandmates, keeping energies at a high as the throng stomped and shouted ‘Ole, Ole, Ole’. Special mention goes to the road crew, whose unenviable task of navigating the clutter of mikes, instruments, and bodies to assure seamless transitions was commendable.
Not so much a set as a last waltz, members took turns memorializing such Pogues gems as ‘And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda’, and ‘A Pair of Brown Eyes’. Zajac and wonderful Irish singer Lisa O’Neill brought a particularly inspired vocal presence to ‘London Girl’, with Stacey at his matinee-idol coolest, delivering the goods in a boogie no doubt honouring their musical forebearers.
Though the tour was billed as a 40th anniversary tribute to their trailblazing record ‘Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash,’ really, it was a celebration of frontman and principal songwriter Shane MacGowan, who we lost less than two years ago. With his absence particularly noticeable on such gems as ‘Rainy Night in Soho’ and ‘The Old Main Drag’, it was only midway through their set that the band acknowledged his demise, dedicating the traditional song ‘The Parting Glass’ in his honour – a piece they famously performed at his funeral. Though reference to MacGowan may not have been overt, it was clear his spirit drove the proceedings, with members bringing personal flair and integrity to songs closely associated with his signature growl.
The Pogues finished their last of five punchy encores in dramatic fashion, plunging into high-tempo favourites ‘Streams of Whiskey’, and ‘Sally McLennane’. The crowd - doused, soused, and full of frenzy – were left buzzing, ready to take the rest of the night on like rowdy pirates casting off to sea, certainly the way The Pogues intended it and no doubt a sentiment MacGowan would raise a glass to.
Donald is the host of Eastern Promises, an exploration of the music of Eastern Canada, on air every other Sunday from 8-9pm
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