Live Concert Review: FME 2024: 4 Days of Emerging and Established Music, New Friends, Adventures and Silliness in Rouyn-Noranda
Unkempt, in threadbare clothes, with holed shoes and sun-cured hide, my costume is permanent: the traveler, the man from far away.
… I may never be truly at home anywhere, I’ll feel at home everywhere to some degree, and that home is where my boots are.
- Paul Salopek
I take my payment, I catch my flight
And don’t wait up for me tonight
(And you might find me there) and you might find me there
North and south and east and west . . .
- The Church “North, South, East and West”
My first passport was set to expire last September. When I submitted my paperwork, which included my old passport, to the Department of State’s Passport Office, I requested the larger passport book. My thought at the time was “I want to travel more. Might as well openly manifest it to the universe.”
Before this year, I wasn’t one to take much stock in manifesting anything. It’s too woo-woo for me. But at the end of last year, I was in a rut both professional and personally. My Creatives Rebuild New York Guaranteed Income grant had just ended. I hadn’t had a job interview in months. I felt a desperate sense of urgency: I was 44 and broke. I had heard about and read studies that said hiring managers across a wide swath of industries believed that one a candidate was between 47 and 55, that the candidate was essentially an old dog that couldn’t learn new tricks. I was a few months shy of my 45thbirthday. Since when is 47 old?
I’ll admit that I’m getting older. My mom loves to teasingly point out, “You’re getting grayer in the beard, huh?” And yes, there are occasions in which my body finds a way to remind me “You’re not 26, you fool. That was 19 years ago!” I’m getting grayer – everywhere.
But I have the same energy and enthusiasm as I did when I was 26. Believe me, the moment that music journalism becomes boring is the moment that I pack it up and call it a career.
I turned 45 in March. 45. A milestone year. A milestone that my much younger self, may not have ever had a chance to see. It does get easier. It also at times gets stranger. But that’s also part of the ride, right?
In the weeks and days leading up to my birthday, my mom and a few of my dear ones asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday. “I’m not all that concerned about the actual day. I’ll be thrilled if people just acknowledge it. But what I really want for this year is to travel more.”
I started 2024 with a momentum changing win. I was accepted into Asian Arts Initiative’s Sound Type Music Festival and Music Writers Workshop in Philadelphia. I knew that at the very least, would be in Bill Penn’s hometown roughly once a month from March through November. And while attending this year’s New Colossus Festival, I knew that I would be off to some then-unknown midwestern town to speak as a panelist about my career. That midwestern town
That Midwestern town turned out to be Wichita for the inaugural Elsewhere Music Festival and Conference.
Around the same time, a Montréal-based publicist had written me. Coincidentally, it had turned out that I had previously written about one his clients. The band’s label would routinely contact me through Groover with submissions from their roster. And yet, I wasn’t remotely surprised. This music thing is a very small thing. The publicist was also working at the Anglophone press contact for Festival de musique émergente en Abitibi-Témiscamingue (FME) in Rouyn-Noranda, Québec. His email ended with “Hopefully, we can get you up here for this year’s festival.”
With most things in this line of work, I treat it as tentative until I receive a firm confirmation. I went on with the rest of my life and my work. But that was until . . .
Monday, July 1, 2024: Moynihan Food Hall, Moynihan Train Hall, New York, NY: I was waiting for a 2:00pm Amtrak Northeast Corridor train to Philadelphia for the third installment of Asian Arts Initiative’s Sound Type Music Festival and Workshop. Normally, I like to arrive at the train station about an hour or so before the scheduled departure. It allows some time for a pre-train pint or two. This time though, I was supposed to catch up with a friend, who I hadn’t seen in a couple of months.
I’m sitting at the bar at The Irish Exit, with a pint of Guinness in front of me, when I received a text from my friend that read: “I’m so sorry. I was just about to leave my apartment, when my boss called me and my team into a last minute, emergency meeting. Let’s get together when you get back!”
With quite a bit more time than anticipated, I pulled out my MacBook Pro and a portable hard drive to edit some photos while waiting for my train. So, I fire up the computer, type in ng, my password and plug the hard drive into the USB-C port. My Outlook receives another batch of messages that included a quick email from my Montréal- based publicist that read:
Hey William, how’s it going? Could you send me a pic of your passport please? I’ll forward it to the team booking transport. What’s the airport you’ll be leaving from?
Cheers!
I excitedly fired off a response:
Hi D:
I’m currently traveling to a workshop in Philadelphia. Unfortunately, I don’t have my passport on me – or a copy of it on me either. Can I email it to you upon my return to NYC? You’d have it by EOD Monday at the latest.
As for airports, LGA would be best. But if LGA can’t be arranged, I can do JFK.
Thanks for this – and your patience.
Best,
W
After roughly 50 hours or so in Philadelphia, I returned home. I scanned a copy of my new passport onto a thumb drive before I left for Wichita. But typical for me, I had to find the thing. Once I found it, I sent it along to D.
D wrote back:
Hey mate. Flight and accommodation in full flow. Will have confirmations coming this week I reckon!
Cheers,
D
__
I need to get into some much-needed background. And if I don’t get into it know, y’all still won’t know what the fuck I’m even talking about. Better late than never, right?
FME, along with its official presenter SiriusXM have created a unique event that has a reputation for showcasing a curated selection of new, emerging and established Canadian acts, as well as some inspired international programming across an eclectic array of genres and styles. This year’s edition, the festival’s 22nd featured rap, pop, neo-soul, R&B, Afro rock, post-punk, krautrock and more over the course of a very busy four days. Because we were in Québec, a significant portion of the acts performing were Francophone with a handful of Anglophone acts. Over 100 sets took place in Rouyn-Noranda’s best concert venues and some unique locations within the small, Quebecois mining town.
It’s the town’s big fucking deal and it seems that locals of all ages support it.
___
Thursday, August 29, 2024. Lefrak City, Corona, Queens, NYC 2:00AM: The previous night, I made myself get into bed around 9:00pm. I had a 7:30 flight out of LaGuardia to Pierre Elliott Trudeau Montréal International Airport. Knowing I’d be traveling with my MacBook Pro, my Canon R6, my Canon 6D Mark II, several lenses, charging cords, portable chargers, hard drives, batteries, an external flash, Bose Quiet Comfort Ultra Headphones and more, I like to show up to the airport as early as I could. It allows me to calmly unpack everything for scanning and to pack everything after going through security. I would also have enough time to get a pre-flight pint or two to calm my nerves.
In doing my research, I confirmed that there was a 4:30am LaGuardia Airport-bound Q72 bus that would drop me off at Terminal B at 5:15am. That would give me 2:15 for everything. Perfect, right? Well, not exactly. I found out that the earliest I could legally get a drink at LaGuardia was 8:00am. Fuck! No pre-flight booze.
Initially, sleep was hard to come by. I was keyed up with pre-trip excitement. It was my first international trip in two years and to a part of Québec I had never seen before. I was worried about somehow oversleeping and missing a bus – or worse, missing my first flight altogether, which would fuck up my chances for the connecting flight. Eventually, I did get a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep before waking up, 30 seconds before my phone’s alarm exploded.
I made breakfast – scrambled eggs, grits, sausage, coffee and orange juice. I showered. I gathered the last-minute items I needed to take and packed them. As I was heading out, I ran into a neighbor and his mom. It was obvious I was traveling somewhere: I was lugging a suitcase. I had my camera backpack and a messenger bag.
“Hey man!” My neighbor said as I was opening the lobby door.
“Hey!” I replied. “Off to Canada. Third time, too.”
“That’s cool. I’m tryna to be like you, brother!” He smiled and nodded as he was talking.
“Right on, brother! I gotta run. It’s an early flight.”
I get to the Q72 bus station at Junction Blvd. and Horace Harding Expressway. The Transit app tells me that the first bus of the morning is still scheduled for 4:30. I’m the first person waiting for this bus. 10 minutes or so pass, and there’s now a small group of people waiting for the bus. I’m the only obvious traveler waiting for this bus. Everyone else is commuting to work – with most of the early birds heading to the airport for the morning shift.
A woman in work uniform is anxiously looking at her phone. Presumably, she’s looking at the Transit app as I was.
The woman in her work uniform, then makes a call phone. I’m listening to music, but I can sense her frustration. It’s obvious to me, that she’s made this call several times before.
The scheduled bus at 4:30 never shows. The next bus is scheduled for 5:30. It would drop me off at Terminal B at 6:15. I wasn’t comfortable with that. I could have walked to Woodhaven Blvd. and got on a Manhattan-bound train to Roosevelt, where I could pick up the Q70 to LaGuardia. But it would mean lugging my suitcase down three flights of stairs at Woodhaven. Then I’d have to lug my suitcase up 3 flights of stairs before I even got to the bus.
I sighed to myself. Then I decided to take a Lyft. I was annoyed because it meant spending more money than anticipated — but I needed to get to the airport.
Thursday, August 29, 2024. LaGuardia Airport, East Elmhurst, NY, 5:05am: My Lyft driver drops me off at Terminal B. I check in my suitcase. Surprisingly, I go through security rather quickly considering all the various cords, wires, batteries and other electronics I’m traveling with.
It’s so early that I can’t get a drink. I buy a large cup of coffee at the airport Wendy’s. That’s my fourth cup of coffee. It’s 5:45am. I need it. Can I have coffee intravenously? I’m desperately going to need it. It’s going to be an exceptionally long day. My flight is scheduled to land at Trudeau Montréal at 8:43am. I had a roughly 70-minute layover that included clearing customs with Canadian border patrol and then going through seemingly the entire airport to catch my connecting flight to Rouyn-Noranda. But my flight landed and got to its gate late.
Customs at Trudeau Montréal involves a self-serve, touchscreen kiosk, where you click off your various customs declarations, including how long you’ll be in the country, what you’re doing in the country and on and on. The kiosk also takes a picture and spits out your responses onto a printout that you pass on to a border patrol officer. But for some reason, the stupid kiosk was confused by my beard. It kept insisting that I had a mask on. “It’s my facial hair, you stupid fucking machine,” I thought to myself. “What the fuck is this?”
The two previous times I was in Montréal, clearing customs was easy. You’d hand a bored border patrol officer your receipt and you’d move on to retrieve your luggage or you’d head out to your car, the bus or whatever. But this time, I was making a connecting flight and Canadian border patrol officers were polite but super intense. A young man, who was attempting to enter the country on a student visa, got the third degree. And it was so intense that he was nervously stammering through his answers. Poor kid. I must admit that I didn’t want to deal with that border patrol officer either.
Of course, because the universe is ironic, the same officer waved me to his station. “Awesome,” I thought.
So here I am with a printout that doesn’t have a photo of my face. Stupid fucking machine. How you mix up a lot of facial hair with a mask? “The stupid machine kept confusing my beard for a facemask,” I told the severe-looking border patrol officer, while handing him the printout and my passport.
“That happens sometimes,” the border patrol officer says with a hint of boredom. He’s probably heard something to that effect 389, 572 times in just the past two months. As he runs my passport through a scanner, he asks, “So you’re here for work sir? What do you do?”
“I’m a music journalist. I’m in the country covering a music festival.
“Which one?” He asks.
“FME.”
“What kind of music?”
“Independent and emerging artists.”
“And where is that?”
“Rouyn-Noranda,” I replied.
He didn’t seem to know what I was talking about. I’ve had this happen once at Amsterdam Schiphol. If you mention a random dot on the map that either few people have heard of – or no one ever really visits, the customs officer frequently looks at you with an expression that’s somewhere in between “Why? “Hmm” and “Uh, okay, whatever you say.”
I was handed my passport and was waved off to head to my connection. Now that I cleared customs, I realized that I had roughly 20 minutes to use a bathroom and then apparently go through the entire airport and the south side of Montréal Island to get to my connecting flight. Down a flight of stars. Walk a pathway and get your boarding pass scanned. Then pass a security guard, who will also scan your boarding pass. Make a left. Make a right. Down an escalator. Up another escalator. Down once again. Up again. Down back again. Now, walk through a corridor with information on Boulevard Saint Laurent’s murals. Up another flight of stairs. Make a left around a corner. And by the time, I finally got to my gate with four minutes to spare, I was sweating and breathing hard. I briefly collapse into an empty chair to catch my breath for a few moments.
On the PA loudspeaker, the Air Canada gate agents inform us that we must board our plane from the outside. We must follow the clearly marked pathways and the instructions of all flight crew while on the tarmac. I haven’t been on the tarmac of an airport since I was a young child. My father worked at LaGuardia Airport from around 1984-2010 or 2011. We were estranged before he died, so I don’t know if he retired or when. But when I was small, I did some cool things. I remember attending a couple of disaster preparedness training sessions and a handful of Kids Days. Those days, kids could check out the cockpit of an airplane, chat with the pilot or whatever. Sometimes, dad would drive around the field and underneath taxiing airplanes.
When we get out to the tarmac, I immediately see that our flight to Rouyn-Noranda would be one of those commuter planes – with the propeller engines. I had never been on one of those before. I was somehow able to take a quick iPhone photo of the plane for friends, family and IG without anyone noticing what I was doing.
As I was about to board the plane, I sent the picture to my family group chat. My cousin Q joked. “Y’all are about to spray some crops, huh?”
The picture didn’t do the plane justice. It was in fact, smaller. As I was entering the plane, I bumped my head against the door frame. One of the flight attendants looked on in shock, followed by concern that I might have seriously hurt myself.
“I’m okay. I’m okay,” I sheepishly say to anyone within view.
Getting into the plane, I looked at my boarding pass and walked down the aisle towards the back of the plane. But I mistakenly got into the wrong seat. Another passenger did the same. “Ooops. Wrong row! Sorry about that,” all of us mistaken passengers say. Then suddenly an overly polite an awkward game of musical chairs.
Now, by the right seat, I squeeze myself in. It’s a tight fit. Thankfully, it’s only a 70-minute flight. I feel too big for the seat. The plane takes off with a lurch. The engines wheeze and whine. The plane shudders and groans. As soon as we get into the air for a few minutes, my row-mate, an Asian man, in his 40s, turns to me and asks, “Going to the festival?”
I reply “Yes. First time at FME.”
“This is my fifth time. I love the festival. The festival is great. But I hate the town. I hate the people. The people are awful,” he says the word awful with so much disdain, that it looks as though he were about to spit on the floor. “They’re just so snooty about the whole French thing.” He went on to tell a brief story about how every year there was always some misunderstanding and confusion about credentials and access. And it was exacerbated because of the language barrier.
“Oh. That’s good to know,” I said.
He then told me how he had spent an all-nighter at Ottawa McDonald-Cartier International, just to make his flight to Montréal. After this brief burst of conversation, he quickly went to sleep in a way that almost seemed like someone pressed his power button.
While our little crop duster groaned, shuddered and lurched to our destination, I looked out the window, enthralled by rural Québec below. There were so many lakes and rivers – seemingly enough to rival that of Minnesota.
Thursday, August 29. 2024: Aéroporte Régionale de Rouyn-Noranda, 11:00AM: Our little crop duster landed at the airport with a screeching halt had me almost collide into the seat in front of me. Any landing you can walk away from is a good one, as they say.
The passengers lumber and stagger out of the plane, carrying bags and attempting not to bump into something. I, on the other hand, seem to bump into everything. When I get out of the plane, my first impression was that the airport reminded me of the 80s sitcom Wings.
A handful of passengers had to retrieve luggage. I ran into Andy, an industry pal, who co-founded and runs a music festival in Wrexham, Wales. I met him at his festival’s M for Montréal showcase back in 2019. And since then, I’ve run into him at almost every New Colossus Festival. I tapped him on his shoulder and smiled. We hugged and caught up while waiting for our luggage.
The festival arranged vans that would drop the industry folks off at our respective hotels. From what I could quickly gather roughly half of the 40 delegates were staying at Le Noranda Spa and Hotel. The other half were staying at Hôtel Albert par G5. But there was a hilarious problem: The vans could comfortably seat 6, plus folks’ backpacks and luggage. Somehow, it eventually wound up that Andy, the seven members of Oakland’s Orchestra Gold and me were waiting for a van that never seemed to come. It was a humid 80º Fahrenheit back in New York, so I was in t-shirt and shorts. We all started chatting and trading jokes, including a lengthy bit about a moose we named Steve that would regularly interrupt flights. At some point, someone wondered if we could walk to our hotel.
“It’s like 5 miles,” I said.
“Remember, we were told there was no Uber,” Andy added.
Orchestra Gold’s bassist called an on-site festival contact about getting a ride. “Oh, okay. Yes. Yes. Thank you,” we all heard her say. I was getting cold. I went into my suitcase to get a jacket.
While we were standing around, a festival employee, who just happened to be on his day off and at the airport, offered to give some folks a ride in his smart car. I don’t know how this happened, but it was decided that Andy, Orchestra Gold’s drummer and I would get the ride into town.
I specifically placed my passport in my messenger bag, with the idea that I wouldn’t lose it. But while we were waiting, I had taken it off and put it down. And as I was about to join my colleagues, I almost forgot my messenger bag – with my passport! – at the airport. Thankfully, I realized that something was off and managed to grab my messenger bag before heading to this man’s car.
The employee’s car was tinier than everyone thought it would be. The interior was filthy and stuffed with all kinds of shit. Andy and I looked at each other with mutual disgust and shrugged. On top of that . . . Andy is a lanky 6’4.” I’m a stocky 5’10.” The drummer was also a stocky 5’10” or so. We tetris’d our stuff and ourselves into this man’s stuff car, which he drove into town while holding a duffel bag in one arm.
I started a conversation about poutine, because Québec. And I was specifically longing for Québecois poutine, which I hadn’t had in two years. Also, when in Rome . . . The festival employee pointed out Chez Morasse, the town’s local poutinerie as he was driving us into town.
“Oh hell yes,” I replied.
Rouyn-Noranda, Québec
Located 393 miles northwest of Montréal, in Québec’s Abitibi-Témiscamingue region, Rouyn-Noranda is wrapped around the Western end of Lake Osisko’s jagged, horsehead-like shaped shoreline.
The city of Rouyn was named for Jean-Baptiste Rouyn, a captain in the Régiment Royal Roussillon, and was founded after copper was discover in the region in 1917. Noranda on the other hand, derives its name from a contraction of North Canada and was founded around the Horne mine and foundry. Both were officially constituted as cities in 1926. They were merged in 1986.
Rouyn-Noranda is complicated. It’s a company town. Generations of mining for copper and other metals has polluted parts of the town almost irreparably. A Montréal-based music journalist I met, who was familiar with the town and its history, told me that Lake Osisko had been declared biologically dead some time ago.
Arsenic, a poisonous byproduct of the mining and extraction process, has been belched out at life-threatening amounts, without most of the town’s 42,000+ souls knowing what was happening to them, for the better part of 40 years. When the locals gradually learned what was happening, many of them demanded that the plant adhere to federal standards. But the smelting plant had a longstanding environmental exception from the Canadian government. I was later told that the plant paid 80 households within proximity to the plant to relocate them because of their heightened cancer risk.
Much like rust belt towns across Upstate New York like Ilion, Utica, Jordanville and others, Rouyn-Noranda is beaten up and worn out at the edges. Throughout my time in Rouyn-Noranda, some of its residents told me that they had felt a sense of pride in their town that seemed to say, “It may be shitty but it’s ours.” There was also a clear-eyed sense of a present and future worth believing in and fighting for.
Venues like Cabaret de la Derniére Chance, Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda and Le Paramount bring in touring acts from across Québec and Francophone Canada. Aréna Glencore is the home to the Rouyn-Noranda Huskies, a junior hockey team in the Québec Maritimes Junior Hockey League. A sign that gave a brief rundown of the arena’s history was posted outside: The thing that caught my attention was a reference to Johnny Cash playing a sold-out show at the arena in 1992 that featured multiple encores.
But over the past 20+ years, FME has become the town’s big fucking deal. The event is a major economic driver during what would normally be an extremely slow period. The festival hires locals and folks across the province to handle the festival’s production, promotion, travel arrangements, security and everything else that must happen during a four-day music festival. And the festival annually invites a collection of journalists across Canada and elsewhere, including yours truly to come up – for free.
Certainly, as an American, it was an embittering reminder of how little we care about and support the arts. The Canadians – especially the Québécois – understand that investments into music and the arts, leads to work, which leads to more money, which leads to more work, which leads to more money and on and on. While the French Canadians will openly boast the need to promote French language and culture, there’s also a massive tourism exponent quietly attached.
Four days in a random town and you’re going to spend money eating, drinking and taking Ubers. You’re going to tip that bartender. You’re going to tip your Uber driver. You’re going to tip your waiter. You’re going to tell home – and your readers – about your experience.
Le Centre musical en sol mineur
14 Avenue Murdoch
Located on Avenue Murdoch between Chem. de la Grande Place and Lake Osisko, Le Centre musical en sol mineur is Rouyn-Noranda’s music conservatory offering course in piano, guitar, violin, drums, vocals, chorus, music theory and more. They also have a classical music partnership with the University of Laval for students in first grade to 11th grade that teaches music theory, harmony and more. The property, which sits on cul-de-sac looks a bit like an English manor, complete with a massive forest-like backyard on the shores of Lake Osisko.
Approaching the property, you can see an enormous, circus-sized tent, which was erected in the backyard for Saturday evening’s delegate dinner.
With school being out for the summer, festival organizers rented the space out for roughly a week or so and turned the space into festival headquarters. Credential pick up for press, artists, staff and VIP was on the second floor. The artists and press lounges were in the same room on the first floor, and featured a small, ad hoc bar.
I’ve attended dozens of festivals, and the artists and press lounges thrum and buzz with activity. You might stumble across a journalist interviewing an artist. Maybe you run into an industry pal you haven’t seen in a while. People are coming and going. There’s a lot of laughter and joking. Someone is yelling to be heard over the cacophony of conversation and laughing. Publicists are frantically looking at their phones or they’re radioing someone. Sometimes, they’re simultaneously radioing one person and texting another. You might see a journalist frantically typing a story or an email. Or a photographer editing photos – or sending photos to their editor. Later, you might see an exhausted journalist daydreaming or nodding off in the corner.
Andy, Orchestra Gold’s drummer and me all go to the second floor to pick up our festival credentials. We all received different colored FME branded wristbands – I had the media wristband; Andy had a delegate wrist band; and the drummer had the band/artist wristband. Each wristband had an RFP chip attached to it. The RFP chip would get scanned whenever you’d enter an exclusive area or an indoor venue. It also could be used for cashless payments for drinks and food on the festival grounds. And the wristband was sturdy enough to be worn and washed multiple times in the shower. Someone really thought that detail through!
I briefly met D, the Anglophone Canadian publicist when I almost walked into him while picking up my credentials. With a mischievous grin and a British accent, D offered drinks. I couldn’t and didn’t say no. It was a free beer. It was a long day. And did I mention, it was free? At some point, we all quickly recognized that the off-duty festival employer was still waiting for us. “Come on, y’all. Our guy is waiting for us,” I said.
Hotel Albert par G5
84 Avenue Principale
Located on Avenue Principale between Rue Gamble East and Rue du Terminus East, Hotel Albert par G5 is in the heart of downtown Rouyn-Noranda. Avenue Principale is lined with cute restaurants, cafes, a handful of little bars, some small, local businesses and two of the shittiest clubs I’ve come across in years. I later learned that one of the clubs had a fittingly shitty name, Bar 069.
2:15pm: I finally got to my room on the third floor. As I always do, I took a quick look around and looked out the window to see some gorgeous, childlike murals drawn on the street below. I took a quick iPhone picture.
I texted the family group chat, letting everyone know that I picked up my credentials and got to my hotel room. I unpacked my laptop, my external hard drive and a few other things. I also pulled out some warmer clothes for later. Then I took a much-needed nap. I had a long day and night ahead of me.
FME Day 1: August 29. 2024: Partner’s Happy Hour and Dinner
Rue 7eime between Avenue Carter and Avenue Murdoch
After a much-needed nap, I changed to a sweatshirt, jeans and warm jacket. The festival schedule mentioned that there was a Partners Happy Hour. From experience, if you’re traveling for work, take advantage of as much free shit as humanly possible. You’ll save money. And you’ll usually have an awesome experience. Win, win, indeed.
According to the festival schedule, the happy hour was located on Rue 7eime. I desperately needed directions. The hotel’s location turned out to be convenient: The overwhelming majority of the festival’s venues were within a 10–25-minute walk.
Walking down Avenue Principle in the direction of Rue du Terminus East, there’s a local talk radio station that broadcasts out of the sort of street facing, storefront studio that reminded me a bit of Fox News’ Sixth Avenue Studios, Good Morning America’s Times Square Studios and The Today Show’s Rockefeller Center Studios. During the day, you can see a live broadcast as it was airing.
Walking back to my room at 3:30am, I heard voices murmuring in French and I couldn’t quite tell where they were coming from. That is until, I quickly realized that the radio station was broadcasting deep into the night.
___
Being a foreigner, who can’t speak, understand or even read the language is a dizzying and surreal experience. Everyone around you is speaking a delightfully musical gibberish. Maybe you might catch a word or a phrase you’ve previously known or keep hearing repeatedly. Or you look at a sign and go to Google Translate.
When I got to the festival gate, I had no idea what was going on. A small group of people were standing around, anxiously waiting to be let in. I quickly built up the courage to ask this one woman “Parlez vous anglaise?” in mangled, Queens, New York-accented Franglish.
“Oh yes!” She said this with a warm smile.
I then asked her about what I needed to do and where I needed to go. She went on to show me where the VIP area was. We chatted briefly. I was deliriously happy. The first local I dealt with, who spoke and understood English was friendly and welcoming. What a relief!
The VIP area was in what appeared to be a parking lot, located roughly halfway between the Sirius XM Main Stage and Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda. Staff stood by the entrance and scanned wristbands. If your wristband spit out the right information on their scanner, you could be let in. If not, they’d presumably shake their head sadly at you, and you’d slink your way off in embarrassment. Or at least that’s how I would imagine it.
The VIP viewing area was comprised of three or four shipping containers that were cut open and welded together. One of the containers was turned into the VIP area bar. The upper containers were cut open and turned into a large split-level, patio-styled viewing area: The smaller side of the upper level was covered with a veranda. The other, larger side was wide open to the elements.
In the back corner of the VIP area, there was a cook, attentively standing by a barbecue grill and handing over various items to a waitress, who served these items to the folks in the VIP area. The waitress would describe the food in a cheery yet indecipherable Québecois. The only word I caught was the French word for onions, oignon. I just smiled, took whatever was offered and said “merci!”
While in the VIP, an older woman, who appeared to me to be in her mid 50s, approached me out of curiosity. Nervously, I asked – again – in mangled Queens, NY-mangled Franglish “Parlez vous anglaise?”
“No French?” She asked.
“I don’t know much French. I’m sorry,” I said.
Looking at me with contempt, she stormed off. My heart sank. I stood off in a corner and for a few minutes I thought “What did I get myself into now?” This was quickly followed by the thought “If this continues throughout the festival, this is going to suck.”
I texted a few people in a burst of desperate loneliness while drinking a beer. I didn’t know what else to do. My mood was brightened when I saw someone with a plate of food. “Where did they get that?” I wondered. Leaving the VIP area, I saw a line of tables with steak, chicken, potatoes, bread and more with folks being served.
Some members of the press were sitting on a curb with plates, eating and chatting. Social media handles were being exchanged. Others were standing around and chatting. Kids were chasing each other with abandon. People were beginning to line up at the festival’s plentiful bars. If you were somehow irrationally impatient, this festival was for you: If you felt the line was too long, you can find another bar with practically no line.
The food was great. And when it was appropriate, I went back to get seconds. I joked with some of the cooks.
A DJ was playing deep cut reggae tunes.
Everyone just seemed happy and excited for what was to come over the course of the next four days.
FME Day 1: August 29, 2024: Back to School Show at SiriusXM Main Stage feat. Karkwa, Orchestra Gold
Rue 7eime between Avenue Carter and Avenue Mudoch
Deriving their name from a phonetic rendering of the French word for quiver, carquois, acclaimed Montréal-based outfit Karkwa – Louis-Jean Cormier(vocals, guitar), François Lafontaine (keys), Martin Lamontagne (bass), Julien Sagot (percussion) and Stéphane Bergeron (drums) – formed back in 1998. After reaching the finals of 2001’s Les Francouvertes, the band released their full-length debut, 2003’s Le pensionnat des établis, which featured “Poisson cru,” a single that reached the top of the province’s campus radio charts. The album was later named best album of the year by two critics at the local alternative weekly Voir.
Building upon a growing profile across the province, the band’s sophomore album 2005’s Les tremblements s’immobilisent wound up winning three ADISQ Félix Awards the following year. In 2007, they were part of CBC Radio 3’s Quebec Scene showcase in Ottawa, which also featured The Stills, The Besnard Lakes and Mahjor Bidet.
Their third album, 2008’s Le volume de vent saw the band expanding their reach into Anglophone Canada, and featured guest spots from acclaimed Canadian artist Patrick Watson and Elizabeth Powell. Le volume de vent was longlisted for that year’s Polaris Music Prize.
Recorded in Paris, the Montréal-based outfit’s fourth album, 2010’s was a critical breakthrough: The album won that year’s Polaris Music Prize and a 2011 Juno Award for Francophone Album of the Year. But despite that success, the band closed out 2011 announcing that it would release a live album in 2012, followed by an indefinite hiatus.
Released in May 2012, Karkwa Live debuted at number 25 on the Canadian Albums Chart. Louis-Jean Cormier released his debut album, that year’s Le Treizième étage, which garnered a 2013 Juno Award for Francophone Album of the Year. Julien Sagot went on to release a series of solo efforts that included 2012’s Piano mal, 2014’s Valse 333, 2017’s Bleu Jane and 2021’s Sagot.
In between those solo efforts, the acclaimed French Canadian band played a reunion show at Saguenay, QC’s La Noce Festival.
Last year, the members of the band announced that they had reunited to write, record and release their long-awaited fifth album, Dans le seconde, which was accompanied by the album’s first single “Parfaite à l’écran.” Dans le seconde continued a run of commercially and critically successful material, with the album receiving a 2024 Juno Award nod for Francophone Album of the Year and was a longlisted nominee for this year’s Polaris Music Prize.
The cognoscenti have frequently described the band as French-Canadian Radiohead. On one level, that’s unfair and on another it’s warranted. Dans le seconde tracks “Ouverture,” “Parfaite à l’écran,” “À bout portant” and “Gravité” all initially seem as though they’re somewhat indebted to The Bends and OK Computer both sonically and thematically with the material touching upon the neurotic and existential dread and unease of our modern time; our increased inability to connect, let alone communicate with others and so on. But repeated listens reveal something subtly different. The bursts of keys during the last third of “Gravité” conveys the wooziness and unease of the song, while adding a bit of strutting jazz funk. “Miroir de John Wayne,” is a slow-burning and meditative song that’s one-part Radiohead, one-part Glowing Mouth and Violent Light-era Milagres. Album title track “Dans le seconde” is a gorgeous and meditative song pairing twinkling percussion, atmospheric synths and acoustic guitar with impressionistic lyrics that remind me a bit of T.S. Elliot – including references to Montréal streets I’ve walked. I can picture myself walking down Boulevard Saint Laurent, Mont Royal Avenue, Rue St. Denis, Rue St. Catherine and so on in the snow. Album closer “Du courage pour deux” pairs electronics, woozy synths, acoustic guitar and fuzzy beats in a way that doesn’t deny obvious Radiohead comparisons. But the material live as a musical oomph thanks to the interplay between Sagot and Bergeron’s forceful rhythmic time-keeping and emphatic patterns.
The acclaimed act played a crowd-pleasing, career-spanning set that featured a collection of fan favorites and deep cuts. While in the photo pit, a song like “Le pyromane,” off 2010’s Les chemines de verre had the crowd bopping excitedly and shouting along with the band. It’s also arguably, the most prototypically “indie rock” of their catalog in terms of song structure and overall sound. The rest of the set had folks, swaying and nodding along, dreaming and remembering.
There was a sense that everyone in the crowd was catching something that they might not see again for a long time. And it may have been one of the more attentive, present music crowds I’ve been around in a couple of years.
Much like Radiohead, their work is whip smart, trippy and effortlessly meshes styles and genres while being featuring some remarkably catchy hooks. In between networking and bullshitting with a new friend, a Montréal-based journalist, who was telling me about the area, I was impressed by how well they paired their sound with an explosive light show. They’re a headliner and they commanded the stage like a headliner should. By the time the set was ended, they had fully won me over, and I was downloading their catalog on Apple Music.
Oakland-based psych outfit Orchestra Gold can trace its origins back to the decade-plus long collaboration between Malian-born vocalist Mariam Diakite and Oakland-based guitarist Erich Huffaker. Back in 2006, Huffaker was in Bamako, Mali. He was extremely busy at the time: he was working for a nonprofit, studying djembe and dunun (drums) while immersing himself in the city’s music scene when he met Diakite. The duo recognized a deep and profound musical connection, which eventually led to Diakite relocating to the States to start a band – that band was Orchestra Gold.
Upon Diakite’s relocation to Oakland, the band quickly established a kaleidoscopic sound that sees the band effortlessly meshing elements of Malian folk, psych rock, Afrobeat, American soul and funk anchored around Diakite’s heartfelt, thought-provoking lyrics sung in her native Bambara. Their goal is to transcend national and musical borders while being a much-needed healing force in a world gone mad.
The Oakland-based outfit’s FME Main Stage set featured some riff-driven Afrobeat that immediately brought comparisons to JOVM mainstays Here Lies Man and The Budos Band – but with a bit more Payback-era James Brown and Fela Kuti funk and the hypnotic whirling dervish-like grooves of Tinariwen.
They played their set with a road-tested fierceness while allowing the material room for each player to solo without the indulgence and pretention of some jam bands. They were bringing righteous funk to the people, but it seemed to take a while for the crowd to warm up. By the time the set hit the halfway point, a portion of the crowd was grooving along with Orchestra Gold. During a particularly righteous “speak that truth, y’all” moment, the band reminded the audience that rock is Black American music. And they asked for applause for Black American music and its pioneering Black creators.
Shamefully not enough of the crowd truly got it. I wasn’t sure if it was the language barrier or if the crowd just wasn’t that sophisticated or open to what may arguably be a bit unfamiliar. But they won at least one journalist over.
Opening the festival’s nighttime activities was Montréal-based singer/songwriter Nadia Hawa Baldé, the creative mastermind behind the acclaimed solo recording project Hawa B. And with Hawa B, Baldé specializes in an iconoclastic approach that sees her effortlessly and playfully meshing elements of soul, R&B, jazz and alternative rock.
Live, Baldé was backed presumably by her producer, a multi-instrumentalist, who played synths and a drummer. The live instrumentation added a muscular heft to slickly produced material that struck me as being a bit like a goth-like Aaliyah with elements of trap and hip-hop paired with lyrics primarily delivered in a sultry Québécois. There was one song in English, perhaps to crossover to the country’s larger Anglophone market. That song managed a rare feat: An attempt at commercial viability that didn’t feel cynically calculated while maintaining what has been successful already.
Baldé managed to command the stage and photographer’s attention by stalking, stomping and dancing across the festival’s main stage. At one point, she ran into the photo pit and growled and sung at fans holding the photo pit rail.
Hilariously, Baldé insouciantly bit into a cucumber on stage, and then threw it in the direction of the crowd. The half-eaten cucumber almost hit a kid. Why? I don’t know. But the set suddenly had a surreal, confrontational punk rock air. Open that pit, right? Wait, what?
FME: Day 1: August 29, 2024: Zouz at Cabaret de la Dernière Chance
146 Rue 8eime
Located on Rue 8eime between Avenue Murdoch and Avenue Carter, Cabaret de la Derniére Chance hosts live music, local art exhibits, dance parties and more. After the Orchestra Gold set, I bolted over to Cabaret de la Derniére Chance to catch Montréal-based prog rock outfit zouz.
Formed back in 2016, the Montréal-based prog outfit –David Marchand (vocals, guitar). Êtiene Dupré (bass, synths) and Francis Ledoux (drums) – can trace their origins to the members desire for a musical space in which they could write material instinctively, creating a liberated take on prog rock.
With their earliest releases, 2017’s EP1, 2018’s EP2 and 2021’s full-length debut Vertiges, the trio firmly established their sound and approach, while supporting them with over 130 dates across Québec, France and the States. The band’s sophomore album, the recently released Alexandre Martel co-produced Jours de cendre finds the band at their most intense and abrasive.
The trio’s FME set featured some of the festival’s hardest, most forceful material with songs recalling a synthesis of the blistering riffs, off-kilter rhythmic patterns of math rock with the trippy grooves of desert rock, featuring heavy down-tuned bass. Imagine a mix of Queens of the Stone Age, Atsuko Chiba, DEVO and Cinemechanica and you’ll have a good sense of what they sounded like live. And they managed to get the entire room rocking.
By the time, they got to a screamo song that featured the band’s Ledoux taking up vocal duties, the room had become so unbearably hot that I desperately needed to go outside to cool off. I listened to the set’s last two or three songs while sitting on a bench. And from outside, I got to appreciate how fucking loud they were playing.
FME Day 1: Late Night Show at Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda: NOBRO with TVOD
112 Rue 7eime
Located on Rue 7eime between Avenue Carter and Avenue Murdoch, a few hundred feet from FME’S Sirius XM Main Stage, Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda is the home of live music, theater, dance, experimental performances, performance art and other cultural activities, including weddings, seminars, conferences, and more. Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda also served as the home for the festival’s late-night showcases: The Fin de Soiree or End of Evening Show, which would take place in the upstairs main room and the Show de Nuit or Night Show In the smaller and more intimate basement space.
Rising Montréal-based punks NOBRO — Kathryn McCaughey (vocals, bass), Karoline Carbonneau (guitar), Lisandre Bourdage (keys, percussion) and Sarah Dion (drums) – headlined the End of Evening Show. Formed back in 2014, the Canadian punk outfit have built a reputation for being one of Canada’s fiercest and exciting bands. For the quartet, NOBRO is both a place for them to take creative risks while cultivating power and happiness in a hard, mean world. That means the stakes are high for the band’s members.
“Music is where we lift each other up,” says NOBRO’s McCaughey. “I wish it was more like a fairy tale. We just want this fucking thing to work. But we’re all gonna succeed together, or we’re all gonna fail together.”
Over the past couple of years, the band has built up an international profile through the release of a batch of attention-grabbing EPs and singles that includes 2020’s Sick Hustle and 2022’s Live Your Truth Shred Some Gnar. Adding to a growing profile, the legendary Iggy Pop played “Bye Bye Baby” on his BBC Radio 6 show. A fictional band in Netflix’s The Imperfects covered their material in the show. They’ve toured across North America and Europe as the opener for the likes of PUP, Alexisonfire, Billy Talent, FIDLAR, The OBGM’s and last year, they opened for Blink-182 at Toronto’s Scotiabank Arena. They also played sets at this past year’s New Colossus Festival here in New York.
Released a few months ago, the band’s Dave Schiffman-produced album Set Your Pussy Free is the culmination of years of work, hundreds of shows and thousands of miles on the road.
The Montréal-based punk quartet rocked Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda with a loud 80s metal-meets-Ramones-like breakneck take on punk that was simultaneously familiar yet playful and brash. While a song like “Let’s Do Drugs” is both stupid and hilarious, the song and the rest of the set’s material was delivered with the self-assured aplomb of road-tested old pros despite their relative youth.
Their pussy power song was fitting – and anthemic. While I wasn’t exactly the audience for the song, it was a defiant yet playful feminist anthem. Another song in the set was about summoning fucks when you’re out of fucks to give but you must. It had a shout worthy refrain “I don’t give a fuck, girl, I don’t give a fuck.” If there was one song that struck me as being a bit overdone and inauthentic, this one was the one.
Later in the set, I moved to the back of the room to get closer to some fresh air. But by then, the members of the band changed instruments, as though they were playing volleyball: Dion switched to bass. Bourdage switched to drums. And McCaughey leapt off the stage to crowd surf through the road. I somehow didn’t notice that she tore her top off and was in a red bra.
Just from the energy of the set, I was firmly convinced that these ladies have a bright future ahead of them.
Brooklyn-based post punk outfit TVOD (Television Overdose) opened the late-night – er, end of night show. in the festival’s parlance. TVOD trace their origins back to 2019 when its founder Tyler Wright recorded a high-energy cassette of punk songs on a Tascam 4-track tape recorder in the abasement of the DIY space he was living in at the time. Since then, the band went on to independently release two EPs, 2020’s Daisy and 2021’s Garden along with standalone singles “Alien,” “Mantis,” “Goldfish” and “Poppies,” and two limited run 45s.
Influenced by post-punk, krautrock and egg punk, the Brooklyn-based post punk outfit quickly established a sound and approach that sees them pairing emotional, sometimes juvenile lyrics with driving, hook-driven arrangements that get crowds moving and moshing. Thematically, the material draws from personal and external inspirations like the nightlife/music scene, heartache, World War II, the untimely death of a beloved pet fish and more while telling a gritty, often tongue-in-cheek picture of being a DIY artist grinding it out in New York, complete with tales about the degenerate lifestyle and all the good and bad that comes with it.
Wright then recruited a standout lineup of freaks from the Brooklyn scene that includes Mem Pahl (drums), Micki Piccirillo (bass), Jenna Mark (synths), Serge Zbritzher (guitar) and Denim Casimir (guitar), who now join I’m both live and in the studio. Now, as a sextet, the rising, Brooklyn-based sextet have quickly developed a reputation for raw, unpredictable and explosive live shows, which they’ve taken across the North American festival circuit, making stops at SXSW, Hopscotch, Sled Island, Concrete Jungle and others. They’ve also shared stages with the likes of Warmduscher, Snõõper, Gustaf, Civic, Soul Glo, Balkans and Iguana Death Cult.
Their FME set at Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda saw the band playing a sweaty, high-energy set of gritty, DEVO-inspired, punchy rippers with two co-lead vocalists, Wright and Mark who switched lead vocal duties for different songs.
Wright started off the set by spitting out huge bursts of water onto the Le Petit Théâtre crowd, which had the photographers in the first row ducking for cover. (I would know, I was one of those photographers!) The rest of the set, he stomped around the stage, slithered like a snake and did wild gymnastic contortions that made my body hurt just looking at him. The rest of the band played with a fiery yet playful intensity while showcasing a road-tested tightness.
By the end of the set the band and the entire crowd were sweaty, elated messes. And goddamn it, it was fun.
FME Day 1: August 29, 2024: Late Night Show at Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda Basement: Aus!Funkt
112 Rue 7eime
Montréal-based electro punk/art punk/disco project aus!Funkt closed out the festival’s first night. Starting out their Le Petite Théâtre du Vieux Noranda Basement set with two jumpsuit wearing dudes — one on guitar, one on synths – Aus!funkt began their set with some trippy krautrock-inspired house anchored around synths and squiggling bursts of guitar.
One of the more memorable songs of their set paired DEVO’s neurotic punchiness with the crunchy and angular push of Gang of Four and a bit of DFA Records – but nastier. While fun, the set’s first batch of songs weren’t the most original I’ve heard.
A handful of songs in, a third member, an androgynous sister joined in. By the time she joined the stage, the act’s material quickly morphed to weird, art school punk that was funky as hell.
FME Day 2: August 30. 2024: Bonsound BBQ with Kaya Hoax
247 Rue Perreault East
Founded in 2004, Bonsound is a Montréal-based artist music company that offers a full range of personalized, professional services from artist management, booking, promotion and public relations, distribution, concert production – and they’re a record label. Their mission is to assist and contribute to the sustainable development of the artists they work with.
Bonsound hosts an annual afternoon party and barbeque at a small and unassuming, two-story lake house at 247 Rue Perreault East, between Avenue Lariviére and Avenue Dufault. Free food and free booze? Plus, a showcase? Well, how can anyone say no, right?
The property, much like its counterparts on Rue Perreault East was on the top of a small hill with much of its expansive and woody backyard comprising a gently sloping decline towards the shore of Lake Osisko.
Although I arrived a few minutes early, most of the delegates had similar thoughts. Unsurprisingly, there were lines for booze and hot dogs. The forecast suggested temperatures in the mid 70s and rain for most of the day. But by the time everyone arrived at the lake house, the clouds cleared. It was all blue skies, puffy clouds and sunshine. Most of the industry folks were in light jackets and jeans. Up here, it was typically mid fall-like in late August. A handful of folks were in shirt sleeves or in t-shirts and shorts. They seemed to be holding onto summer for a few more hours.
I was on a line waiting for booze or for hot dogs – or both? I can’t remember – when I wound up chatting with Durevie Records’ Vincent Cosette, who was also on the same line. A handful of obvious conversation topics come up whenever you’re an industry event with fellow industry professionals: What you do. Where you’re from. If it’s your first time at the festival/event/showcase/party/whatever. At some point you exchange some sort of information, whether business cards, phone numbers, Instagram handles, whatever. At some point Cossette introduced me to his pal, DVTR’s J.C. Tellier, who I was pretty sure that I saw the previous day somewhere. While chatting with Tellier, he informed me that I was one of the first journalists to write about DVTR – and that he was grateful for it. I’ve said this often to friends and others: In this very weird line of work, it’s very easy to feel like a failure. But a moment like that with Telllier was a reminder of why I do this music journalism thing – and why I love it so much.
Rising Montréal-based singer/songwriter and producer Kaya Hoax has received attention across the province and nationally for urgent and celebratory music that meshes elements of hip-hop, experimental pop, UK grime, dancehall and punk anchored around enormous hooks, glistening synths and earth-shaking, tweeter and woofer rattling 808s. The Montréal-based artist, along with a collaborator delivered a high-energy set that saw the pair bopping around and headbanging throughout the instrumental parts. Kaya Hoax would strut and command the “stage” like a rapper whenever she delivered her verses.
Live, I didn’t quite hear the UK grime or dancehall influences; but I heard decidedly old-school hip-hop influences with a modern sensibility. I thought of Lil’ Mama’s 2008 hit “Lip Gloss,’” Roxanne Shanté and MC Lyte and Nelly Furtado’s mid 00s work with Timbaland – but delivered with a remarkably self-assured, swaggering air.
Le Centre musical en sol mineur Day 2: Or Meeting a local relisher of irony: Or Everything Is Coming Up Will
14 Avenue Murdoch
Because the festival is the region’s big fucking deal, the festival employs a ton of folks both locally and across the province. After the Bonsound BBQ, it started to sprinkle and spritz a bit. But if you had a rain jacket, it was more than enough to keep you dry if you were walking around as I prefer to do.
The festival’s schedule is rather overwhelming. Close to 80 artists, bands and groups are in town playing on about 18 different stages across the festival’s four-day run. Trusting my iCalendar entry, I walk to the SiriusXM Main Stage, looking forward to seeing some local breakers . . . only to come across one of the headlining performers in the middle of a soundcheck. I looked up the festival schedule and quickly discovered that I somehow entered the Québécois hip-hop block party on the wrong day and the wrong location in iCalendar.
I didn’t have enough time to go back to my room. So, what else do you do with some unexpected free time when you’re covering a festival? Well, if you’re like me, you head to the press and artist’s lounge. There’s usually free booze and someplace to sit down for a bit. After a full day of running around Rouyn-Noranda, I wanted to melt into every seat I came across. Just push me or wheel me to where I need to go, merci beaucoup!
I got a beer, sat down and started to text friends and family back home, when Le Couleur’s Steeven Chouinard walked into the lounge. While we were catching up, he told me that he was playing drums for another Montréal artist Félix Dyotte, who was playing a set later that night. Chouinard introduced me to Dyotte and informed him that I was a “real Francophile.” That was the second super flattering thing someone told me – in a few hours.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t catch Dyotte’s set because I really wanted to see some of the Francophone hip-hop. And until I can figure out how to clone myself – or get another correspondent, I can’t be at two places at once.
Google Maps told me that my next stop, L’Ordre Loyal Des Mooses, nicknamed locally as Les Mooses, was about a 20-minute walk from Le Centre musical en sol mineur. I would have wound up being maybe 10-minutes late, but I wasn’t overly concerned. Now, as I was walking off the gorgeous property, I saw an FME shuttle about to drive off the property – in the general direction I was about to head. Everything is turning out for your boy, huh?
I waved the car down. The driver was a short stocky guy in his 50s with receding graying hair and glasses. “Could you give me a ride to Les Mooses?” I asked. The driver was easy-going and proved to be a quick with a witty quip or a joke. My kind of guy, really. As he’s starting to drive to Les Mooses, he joked to me that festival delegates wind up catching “The FME Fever,” and once they catch it, they keep coming back every year.
Since I was chatting with a local, I asked him, out of curiosity, about the arsenic that the town was allegedly bathed in. He cheerily pointed out the main smelting plant known for spewing arsenic into everything. “There it is,” he said with a wry smile.
A few minutes later, the driver dropped me off right outside the door of L’Ordre Loyal Des Mooses.
FME Day 2: August 30, 2024: 5 á 7: Amery with De Flore at L’Ordre Loyal Des Mooses
154 Rue Perreault East
Located on Rue Perreault East between Avenue du Portage and Avenue Laviviére, a few blocks from the Bonsound BBQ, in a dumpy two-story storefront building L’Ordre Loyal Des Mooses is the home to the town’s local Moose Lodge. Moose Lodges are apparently still thing.
During the festival’s second and third days, Les Mooses hosted two of the festival’s 5 á 7 showcases, which featured sets that took place between 5:00pm-7:00pm.
Amery Sanford is a Halifax-born. Montréal-based artist, who spent several years playing in various punk bands in Newfoundland. Upon relocating to Montréal, she had a stint as a member of pop duo Born at Midnite. Sanford stepped out into the spotlight as a solo artist in 2020 with her solo recording project Alpen Glow. After recording material with Alpen Glow, the Halifax-born, Montréal-based artist rebranded the project Amery.
Released earlier this year, the Halifax-born, Montréal-based artist’s Amery debut, Continue as Amery EP was recorded with David Carierre, Patrick Holland and Kristian North. The EP sees the Montréal-based artist crafting hook-driven, humorous songs that focus on city living, making mistakes and figuring out as you go along that are rooted in her own personal experiences – from speeding around her hometown listening to her favorite radio station to being a wide-eyed naïve adventurer who left for the big city and being out on the town, excited by the promise of the night and more.
Sanford is backed by Sarah Harris, Jack Bielli and Frank Cliemenhage, who all help to flesh out the material in a live setting through guitar, bass, drums, keys and a sampler. The first song of their FME set at Les Mooses immediately brought a mix of JOVM mainstays MUNYA and Tame Impala to mind, with a similar hook-driven catchiness. By their second song, a sort of lo-fi indie pop number I’ve heard before countless times over, they were battling the sound issues you’d expect in a community hall setting.
The fourth song of their set had a Sade/Quiet Storm-like vibe, which captured much of the sweet longing at the core of it. The set featured a punk-leaning song that was – in my opinion – a complete misstep, because it was missing a bit of a sneer and grit to make it convincing. The worst part of their set was a cover of Donna Summer’s “Hot Stuff.” Their rendition was a wedding cover band version that grabbed a hold of the spirit and vibe of the song, but didn’t have a real sense of the slinky and sultry groove at its core.
I felt that their live set revealed some weaknesses in the material: Sanford’s vocal range seemed to limit what could be done with the material and where it could go. For the most part, their set featured some catchy yet familiar sounding material. But by far, the biggest problem was that their stage presence was a bit awkward – or a bit too Canadian?
Ontario-based indie pop duo De Flore – Sarah Anne LaCombe and Mathieu Gauthier – features self-taught musicians, who hail from two predominantly bilingual eastern Ontario towns – Hawkesbury and L’Original. The duo specializes in a sleek and ethereal synthesis of bedroom pop, French touch, nu-disco and psych pop delivered with a sultry self-assuredness.
At points, their set reminded me a bit of MUNYA but with a punchier, muscular oomph. But the material also nodded at Giorgio Moroder, Daft Punk and Sylvan Esso which gave the proceedings a breezy and effortless dance floor friendliness. While much of the set featured a bunch of hook-driven bops, there was a minor misstep, a bluesy little number about heartbreak punctuated by Gauthier beatboxing a beat. It didn’t quite feel right, and it was marred by some vexing sound issues to boot. Even with that misstep, their set was one of my favorites of the day.
FME Day 2: August 30, 2024: Bonbonbon Records 5th Anniversary Party feat. Allô Fantôme at Cabaret de la Dernière Chance (not pictured)
146 Rue 8eime
After the 5 á 7 showcase at Les Mooses, I walked to Cabaret de la Dernière Chance for the Bonbonbon Records 5thAnniversary Showcase. The big draw for me was free tacos for festival delegates. Free shit, right?
By the time I arrived at Cabaret de la Dernière Chance, the weather had changed dramatically: The temperature had dropped. And a steady sprinkle started. Eating in the damp – with some of your food being a bit damp was unpleasant. But it was free. And I had another long night ahead of me.
After a couple of rounds of tacos and corn, I went inside. A young FME staffer started warbling away in French and because I go to so many clubs to see live music, I immediately gathered that she wanted to scan my wristband and stamp my hand. Some things are universal after all!
Samuel Gendron is a Montréal-based singer/songwriter and creative mastermind behind the psych pop/psych folk/indie rock project Allô Fantôme. With 2022’s self-titled debut EP, Gendron quickly established a sound featuring lush, sweeping arrangements and refined harmonic progressions.
I managed to catch roughly a song and a half or so of Gendron’s FME set. The song I did hear was a dreamy piano ballad that to my brought Elton John and A Night at the Opera-era Queen to mind with a subtle nod to Nick Drake, thanks to a lush arrangement featuring keys, flute, guitar and drums. It struck me as being both familiar and a bit unoriginal.
Before I was about to leave, there was a song that featured an attention-capturing trippy, freak out of a breakdown that revealed some craft and playfulness. I ran into Steeven Chouinard as I was about to head out, and he introduced me to a member of Montréal-based, Francophone psych rock outfit Solipssime. His face lit up when I told him that I loved their self-titled EP and their full-length debut, Labryinthologie, and that I had been telling folks back home about them.
You Can Meet New Friends Anywhere, Kiddo/My Shitty Hometown is Mine
While I was in the SiriusXM Main Stage’s photo pit, a young man in the crowd rain up to the rail and approached me. He started warbling away in indecipherable to me French until I heard the one word I understood, “Instagram.”
“Parlez vouz anglaise?” I asked in mangled, Queens-accented Franglish.
The young man apologized to me, and then asked if I had Instagram. Y’all, he apologized – to me, an ignorant American, who went up to a very Francophone town and couldn’t really speak, read or understand the language. In my head, I thought “I should be apologizing – to you.”
We exchanged Instagram handles. That’s what the kids do these days, right?
As I was about to head to the SiriusXM Main Stage, the young local man from the previous night recognized me and excitedly said hi. He was with a small group of friends, who he politely went out of his way to introduce.
The young local man asked me where I was from. “New York,” I said.
“Wow!” The group of young locals exclaimed. The young man said, “What are you doing here?” His friends looked on with curiosity.
“I got invited to cover the festival. It’s my third time in Québec, but first time in Rouyn-Noranda. My first FME,” I replied. I went on to tell them that I had been to towns like Rouyn-Noranda back in New York – towns that were run down and shitty but still had some gutsy charm and an undying hope for the future.
They all smiled in agreement. The young man went on to say that they felt a deep sense of pride in their hometown. And I truly got it. It may be shitty and run down around the edges, but it’s your hometown. It raised you and taught you everything you learned for better or for worse. Much like a family member, only those who truly understand you and your family can shit on that family member. Anyone else will be treated like a mortal enemy.
He also told me that dope.gng was one of his favorite groups, and that he was very excited to catch them later.
“I’ll catch you later! I’m catching Rymz on the main stage,” I told the group.
Those young people struck me as being some of the sweetest Norandans I met. And I was looking forward to running into them later.
FME Day 2: August 30, 2024: Souldia with Rymz at Sirus XM Main Stage
Rue 7eime between Avenue Carter and Avenue Murdoch
Kevin St. Laurent is an acclaimed, Limoilou, Québec City, QC-born and-based emcee, best known in the Francophone hip-hop world as Souldia. Over the course of his 15-year career, he has released 12 albums including 2022’s Dixque d’art, which won an ADISQ Félix Award for Rap Album of the Year and 2023’s Non conventionnel, which received a Juno Award nomination for Francophone Album of the Year earlier this year.
The Limoilou-born and-based emcee played an energetic set that saw him jumping down into the photo pit to interact with enthusiastic young fans, who screamed throughout his set. Some of his fans began recording video, with the rapper seeming to happily oblige them a moment to go viral with their friends, who would have FOMO. For the better part of about a set and a half, it had rained – hard enough to warrant the use of rain covers to protect my gear. But at some point, my Canon 6D Mark II suddenly stopped working. That threw me for a loop. And the timing couldn’t be worse. But that’s also why you have two camera bodies – if something weird happens, you can still work.
While in the photo pit, he leapt off the stage, and got on concrete blocks in the photo pit, to get closer to the fans. Some of the fans began recording video, with the rapper seeming to happily oblige them a moment to go viral with their fans.
Once the first three songs of his set were over, I walked past an older gentleman, presumably a local, who was rocking out. What I will say is that live instrumentation helped the material by giving it a musical heft.
Rymz is an acclaimed and commercially successful Montréal-based emcee who over the course of his nearly 15-year career has released nine studio albums and several EPs, which have amassed over 25 million streams across DSPs. Accompanying music videos throughout his recorded output have amassed over 20 million views on YouTube. 2016’s Petit Prince and 2017’s Mille Soleils earned ADISQ Félix Award nominations for Hip-Hop Album of the Year – with Petit Prince winning an Audience Award.
The Montréal-based emcee has supported his recorded output with over 500 live shows across both Québec and the European Union. In Québec, he has made the rounds of provincial festival circuit, playing sets at FEQ, FME and the Francos de Montréal, where he headlined in 2017. Adding to a large profile across la belle province, Rymz is also the first Québecois emcee to sell out Montréal’s MTelus back in 2016.
The Québecois rapper’s European tours have seen him tour with his labelmate, Loud Lary Ajust’s Loud three times. And last year, he opened for French artist Youv Dee on a dozen date run through March and April. During that busy period of touring, he released his eighth album, 2022’s Un jour de plus au paradis.
He’s also known for his work as an educator and mentor for at-risk Québecois youth. Because of his popularity across the province, he has been able to raise awareness about the risks young people across the province face, while raising value funds for a variety of educational projects.
Rymz’s FME set saw him building up buzz for his then-unreleased ninth album Vivre à mourir, which feaures what may arguably be the biggest hit of his career “BANG.” Out of the acts that I caught in Rouyn-Noranda, the youthful local crowd was the most excited to see the acclaimed Montréal-based artist. While in the photo pit, the folks in the first handful of rows of attendees were screaming as though they were amidst Beatlemania in 1964. And one young woman, who ensured she was by at center stage and by the rail, was screaming along to every single line, as if her life dependent on it. I think I heard her the loudest of anyone else. I didn’t have to understand a word of what he was saying to know that for this young woman and her counterparts, his music and words meant something; that it spoke to them and described their world and plight with empathy.
Although he was backed by a guitarist, who played some blistering metal-inspired riffage and a DJ who cut and scratched, I found the acclaimed Québecois emcee’s set to be mediocre soundalike trap, anchored around earnest lyricism – and an attempt to give the material an arena rock-meets-festival muscular bombast.
After the first three songs, I walked through the crowd, digging everyone and everything, distractedly listening to Rymz’s set. The rain started to get a bit harder. I made a beeline for the awning of Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda. By the time, I got under cover, the skies opened into a torrential rain. A crowd of people, presumably with hive mind, joined me under the awning, including the members of Orchestra Gold, who by this time became festival pals. We wound up having a conversation about their set the previous day, what we thought of the town and the festival and the like. They were returning to Oakland the next morning, so as I often do with touring musicians I know, I wished them safe travels.
FME Day 2: August 30, 2024: Èrika Zariya at Fizz Stage
Rue 7eime between Avenue Carter and Avenue Mudoch
Earlier that day, I had exchanged DMs with a dear friend, Marie, a staffer with M for Montréal.
She was heading up to Rouyn-Noranda that night. I ran into her and a friend of hers in the VIP area during Souldia’s set. Marie asked me what I was catching next.
I told her “Érika Zariya at the Fizz Stage.” I expressed some frustration about having issues with my Canon 6D Mark II. I was 800 miles from home. 400 miles from Montréal. There wasn’t much I could do, and it wasn’t worth stressing about.
Marie, her friend and I walked over to the Fizz Stage to catch Zarya, a Québec City-based Belgian Canadian, bilingual R&B/hip-hop soul artist, whose work is always deeply personal and is rooted in an unvarnished honesty. Since making a name for herself in the provincial capital’s music scene back in 2021, she has collaborated with the likes of GIMS, Lost and Souldia while taking part in the Musée de la civilisation de Québec’s exhibition Sur paroles. Le son du rap queb.
We wound up catching a handful of songs of an energeci set that drew from electro pop, trap, R&B and hip-hop anchored by Zariya’s powerhouse vocal. The woman can sang, as they say. She has a big future in my book.
At some point, Marie said to me and her friend, “Poutine?”
My response, “Yes!” I will never say no to poutine, ever.
“Chez Morasse?” Marie asked.
“Yes!”
FME Day 2: August 30, 2024: Late Night Show at Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda Basement: Dope.gng
112 Rue 7eime
I was back at Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda’s basement for the festival’s second late night show, which featured Montréal-based hip-hop duo dope.gng. The French-Canadian duo – Yabock and Zila – formed back in 2016 and since then they’ve been developing a sound and approach that blurs the lines between trap and punk.
Supported by a DJ live, Dope.gng played a high energy set of slickly produced, hook-driven bangers that also featured elements of house, calypso. The songs saw the duo attempting to push the boundaries of trap and hip-hop in strange yet accessible, remarkably crowd-pleasing directions. While the kids seemed to really respond to them, I felt as though I wasn’t hearing anything super new. And there was a little bit too much autotune.
Towards the end of their set, I desperately needed to sit down – yet again. Back to my favorite bench, near the rest room. As I was sitting down, I tried to get my 6D Mark II working. I pulled out my memory card wallet from my backpack and began switching memory cards. I did this several times. Nothing. I tried to switch lenses. Nothing.
The show ends. I make the 20-minute walk through Rouyn-Noranda’s quiet streets back to my hotel room. Before I tried to get some sleep, I thought about doing an upload of photos. But when I opened my bag, I quickly see that I don’t have my memory card wallet. A whole day of photos from the 6D Mark II are missing! And if I needed to change memory cards for any reason, I couldn’t. “Shit!” I thought to myself. I looked around the room with the brief thought that maybe I absentmindedly dropped it. But that strikes me as being too stupid to be believed. I’m now certain that I left the card wallet on the bench at Le Petit Théâtre. It was close to 3:00am. Nothing could be done now.
FME Day 3: August 31, 2024: Hotel Albert par G5
84 Avenue Principale
The previous day, I ran into D, the Anglophone Canadian publicist, who invited me up. He told me that he learned that the festival was offering a catered lunch for the international delegates and international press. He added that if I were interested that I should text him the next day for “the exact coordinates.”
I woke up Saturday morning with two things on my mind. I wanted to take advantage of the hotel’s breakfast at least once. There was nothing to lose: If the food sucked, I didn’t pay for it. If the food was awesome, then it would be worth a little bit of sleep deprivation. Plus, more money for beer or poutine. The other thing on my mind was that I had to make a deadline. About a month before, I pitched an album review to a Philadelphia-based publication with deep connections to Asian Arts Initiative.
I brought my laptop and headphones downstairs. I ate breakfast and drank several cups of coffee while revising my review. Eventually, I headed back to my room to charge my laptop and my phone. I also needed to shower and start the festival portion of my day. It took a while to get the review where I wanted to go – and I briefly lost track of time. It happens.
I texted D to find out where the lunch was. It turned out, it was a few blocks away from the SiriusXM Main Stage, the Fizz Stage and Le Petit Théâtre. I just wasn’t going to make it. I also told him that that I stupidly forgot my memory card wallet at Le Petit Théâtre and was hoping that someone could help.
He reached out to the venue manager and told me that someone should be over around 4. I could catch the two sets I hoped to catch at the Hydro Québec Stage at Chez Edmund Guinguette, stop at Le Petit Théâtre, hit the hip-hop block party for a little bit, and then head to the delegate dinner. Perfect!
A Reunion of Sorts
Hotel Albert par G5
84 Avenue Principale
The Hydro Québec Stage at Chez Edmund Guinguette was a bit too far to walk. I called for a ride. And guess who pulls up to the hotel? The driver, who jokingly told me about FME fever and pointed out the smelting plant belching arsenic into the environment. Is this fate?
As I get into his van, I groan audibly. The other passengers are shocked. I don’t care. Everything hurts. And I’m beginning to wonder why I keep doing this to myself. I’m 45. Not 25. But for me, this is the adventure of a lifetime.
One passenger was dropped off at the Hotel Noranda. We then made the 10 minute or so drive to Chez Edmund Guinguette. At one point, I made a joke about the arsenic and the smelting plant, based on my conversation with the driver. The driver tells us that his grandmother grew up and spent her life in town. She lived until she was 99. A bad fall killed her. He then sardonically joked, “a little arsenic won’t kill you!”
FME Day 3: August 31, 2024: Hydro Québec Stage at Chez Edmund Guinguette: Rau_ze with Grand Éugine
Parc Tremoy, Chem. de la Grande Place
In early 18th century France, outdoor, pop-up night clubs would pop up on the riverbanks throughout the country called guinguettes (pronounced roughly like gang-gets) throughout the summer. Folks would show up in their Sunday finest to eat, drink guinguet, a cheap green wine, and to dance the night away – in the moonlight and by the water. Romantic ain’t it? So, it shouldn’t be surprising that Renoir and Van Gogh captured guinguette moments in their work. And during the Années folles (“crazy years” in French) – the Roaring Twenties or Jazz Age here in the States or the Golden Twenties in Germany – they were extremely popular, as people attempted to return to lighter, more fun times.
By the 1960s, they began to fall out of favor. Television helped. But there were also bans on bathing in rivers for both health and safety reasons: Water quality was arguably at its worse during the 1960s and 1970s. Barge traffic increased, and the risk of drowning increased. But for the French, they instilled a nostalgia for a much simpler time. In the past couple of decades, the guinguette has seen a revival across the Francophone world.
FME’s Hydro Québec Stage is at Chez Edmund Guinguette, located on the looping Chem de la Grande Place in Parc Tremoy, within a few short feet from the shores of Lake Osisko. For a glorious, late August afternoon, temperatures in the low 70s, and it felt – to me, at least – much like a mid-September day.
The vibe was beer garden/brewery on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon: Young families were around with their little ones. Most of the local little ones were super little – toddlers and babies. Others brought their dogs. It was wholesomeness overload.
Extreme stage right and stage left, there was booth-styled seating. Each booth was bordered by a wall of sunflowers and corn to provide some privacy – and a quaint bit of beauty. There was an empty spot at the booth closest to the stage. I melted into my seat.
A woman in her thirties was playing with a baby boy that was about 15-18 months old or so. The boy was a bundle of curious energy. I noticed that a family friend started playing peek-a-boo with the baby through the sunflower and corn wall. The baby murmured and smiled. I laughed heartily.
I may be a foreigner. I may not understand or speak the language, but there’s something profoundly universal here, something truly human. I felt a sense of joy and wonder: I wanted to know about everyone there. What brought all of us together at this moment on a beautiful day?
The afternoon showcases were headlined by rising Montréal-based neo-soul and electro pop outfit Rau_ze. Founded by Rose Perron and Félix Paul, the French-Canadian outfit can trace its origins back to when Perron and Paul met while at school. They felt an instant and undeniable sense of creative connection – and a desire to create a genre-bending take on neo-soul. With their 2022 Francouvertes win, the project, which expands to a quintet for live shows, quickly made a name for themselves for tight musicianship, versatile and Perron’s powerhouse vocal.
The rising oufit’s Hydro Québec stage set not just showcased remarkably tight musicianship from a supremely talented band that had an uncanny ability to know when to catch onto a groove, but also a frontperson with remarkably self-assured and commanding stage presence – and an attention-grabbing, powerhouse vocal. I would pay to hear her sing the names of the phone book – in English and in French.
Montréal-based Grand Eugéne was the first band I caught at the Hydro Québec Stage at Chez Edmund Guinguette. Led by its core duo Melyssa Lemiux (vocals, tambourine), Jeremy Lachance (guitar), the band which expanded into a quintet for live shows played a set of material that reminded me a bit of Dead Blue-era Still Corners mixed with the dreamily dusty nostalgia of Pavo Pavo Young Narrator in the Breakers anchored around some supple bass lines and glistening synths. But their stage presence was so awkward and boring that it seemed detrimental to material that seemed to fit the low-key party vibe of the afternoon. What a shame.
FME Day 3: August 31, 2024: Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda
I showed up at Petit Théâtre to inquire about my memory card wallet. It turned out that a staff member came across it as they were closing. He had opened it to see what was in it. And when he saw that there were memory cards, he realized that some moron – cough, cough, cough, uh me – forgot it.
Work isn’t lost! Even if my 6D Mark II died, work from the festival wasn’t lost. I hadn’t a chance to upload to my hard drive, let alone do anything for Instagram. By the time, I would return to my room, I’d get undressed and find myself melting into my bed. I had almost gone through both memory cards on my R6, so getting the additional memory cards back was desperately important.
With some time before the delegate dinner, I Googled “Canon 6D Mark II won’t turn on.” The search result came up with a relatively easy solution: Remove your lens. Remove your battery. Close the battery and memory card doors. Switch the camera on. Hold the shutter button for 10 seconds. I tried it and the 6D Mark II fired on. Everything has come up Will – once more. I’m fucking ecstatic.
I looked at my watch and realized that I could still stop by the Télé Québec hip-hop block party before the delegate dinner.
FME Day 3: August 31, 2024: Télé Québec Presents Les racines du hip-hop au Quebec Block Party, NAPA Autopro, Garage Raymond Rheault, Inc.
192 Avenue Murdoch
Télé Québec’s documentary series Les racines du hip-hop au Quebec (The origins of hip-hop in Quebec) hosted an old-school block party at NAPA Auttopro, Garage Raymond Rheault, located on Avenue Murdoch between Rue 7eime and Rue 8eime.
I missed the portion featuring local emcees, which was disappointing – but memory cards and my 6D Mark II was working again. But what I did catch was a local DJ who was spinning a mix of classic soul that included Chaka Khan’s “I’m Every Woman,” some deep 80s funk, remixes of The Sugarhill Gang and others.
It was a gorgeous and super chill afternoon. Some local kids were attempting to breakdance – in that awkward and ridiculous way that little ones do, while being egged on by their parents.
I saw some of Rouyn-Noranda’s best dogs. Everything was adorable, and I was smiling from ear to ear.
FME Day 3: August 31, 2024: Delegate Dinner at Le Centre musical en sol mineur
14 Avenue Murdoch
Most of the Canadian delegates had made repeated trips to Rouyn-Noranda. And the thing that was frequently repeated by staff and delegates was that the delegate was a highlight of the festival.
“You must check out the spread!” Some of the delegates would say.
“Goodness, the food!” Others would exclaim.
Based on the comments from the delegates, I was excited – and hungry. I rushed over to the delegate dinner with my camera harness and cameras still attached. Remember the intense Asian seatmate I had? Well, his name is Wong[1]. I had run into him quite a bit during the festival’s run: We had the same flight from Montréal to Rouyn-Noranda. We stayed at the same hotel. And we saw each other at most of the same sets. Understandably, we became friendly.
Wong had been drinking to the point that he was slurring his words. Whatever he began to say, he never completed his thoughts. In mid-sentence, he would go off on another topic. But he managed to happily tell me that he also just had some magic mushrooms. I didn’t say anything but my thought at the time was “Whew boy, this boy is wild.”
A slow yet steady moving line started to form for wine and food. Ming suddenly says to me
“There’s someone you should meet!” He disappears for a moment and returns with a young woman by his side. “She’s from Queens.”
“Queens!” I happily exclaimed!
The woman tells me that she grew up in Queens – first in Jackson Heights and Whitestone. And that she moved to Brooklyn as an adult.
Her name was Angela. She was covering the festival for Earmilk. The fact that she was from Queens, and we were both in Rouyn-Noranda meant we had to be friends. I frequently run into New Yorkers – specifically Queens folks – quite a bit. But in Rouyn Noranda? What are the odds of that, right?
The setting was gorgeous. The sun streamed between the trees surrounding the property. The lake shimmered just in the distance. I ran into the festival’s unofficial/official mascot, an adorable labradoodle named Cooper. Cooper may have arguably been the most popular and most beloved FME character around. And most important, the food was hearty and delicious: There was grilled chicken, steak, vegetables and oysters. If you were a vegan or a vegetarian, you would be extremely uncomfortable – and very hungry.
During dinner, I wound up chatting extensively with D, who told me that he was a proper Brighton lad, who relocated to Montréal when he was 35. His first client in town was Montréal’s Black History Month, which had me in disbelief. A White guy working Black History Month? How? He told me that it was one of the most humbling and necessary experiences in his life: He had to learn a new language while learning the ropes from local, Black women, who taught him a few things.
I went directly to the grill for seconds. I wind up chatting with one of the cooks, an aggressively, almost illegal stereotype of a Québécois man. If his name wasn’t François, Jean-Luc, Michel, Guy, Stephane, Mathieu, Etienne or something like that, I would have been shocked. My Québécois chef tells me that he had seen me around town with my camera gear, and that he thought I was cool.
I wasn’t surprised by this. Rouyn-Noranda is very small. Although the Black population has grown over the past handful of years, it’s still small in proportion. And not only can they pick up that I’m not from the region, but it’s also obvious I’m in town for work.
It comes up that I’m an American. And with the election then a few months away, we briefly chatted about politics. He asks me who I’m voting for.
“Kamala,” I said with a look that says “Motherfucker, who do you think I’m going to vote for?”
He then asks me, with concern, if I think she could do it.
“I honestly don’t know.”
“I don’t think we all will survive another term of him,” he says. I agree with a heavy sigh. He then tells me that before I go, I must try the chicken because he raised, slaughtered and butchered them himself.
I told him that I had to run. But later, I realized that I had some of his chicken. It was amazing.
FME Day 3: August 31, 2024: Loud Lary Ajust with LaF and Haviah Mighty at Sirus XM Main Stage
Rue 7eime between Avenue Carter and Avenue Mudoch
Throughout the course of their initial run together, which resulted in two EPs, 2013’s Ô mon dieu and 2016’s Ondulé and two studio albums, 2014’s Blue Volvo and Gullywood, the acclaimed Montréal-based hip-hop trio Loud Lary Ajust quickly made a name for themselves for spitting lyrics in a local blend of Franglais that frequently referenced debauchery, drugs and hedonistic behavior.
After the release of Ondulé, the trio went on an extended hiatus that saw each individual member focus on their solo careers and other projects. By the summer of 2022, the band announced a show at Club Soda during Francos de Montréal 25 to celebrate the 10th anniversary of Gullywood. That show quickly sold out. They also played a free, outdoor show at Place des Festivals in Montréal’s Quartier des Spectacles.
Earlier this year, the trio announced a series of tour dates celebrating the 10th anniversary of Blue Volvo, which included their return to Rouyn-Noranda and to a festival, which the trio credits for their success across the province. They also released their first bit of new material in over eight years.
The trio’s set featured club friendly anthems anchored around earth rattling, thumping beats with rapid fire lyrics in French and Franglais. It was a fun, party-starting kind of mind fuck to hear random bursts of recognizable English after lengthy French sequences. But the material struck me as the sort to get turnt up in the club to – and not quite what I’d listen to while I was commuting to work. To each their own, right?
Montréal-based collective LaF (pronounced la-eff) exploded into the local and provincial scenes with their 2018 Les Francouverts, which saw the sextet – emcees Bkay, Jah Maaz and Mantisse and producers Bnjmm.lloyd, BLVDR and Oclaz – quickly established themselves as one of the province’s most electrifying live acts. But through a handful of releases, including last year’s Chrome, the collective managed to cement a lush sound that blends soul, jazz and pop influences.
Their FME set was a high-energy set with some big, hook-driven anthems that were fun. But somehow throughout the set, I just had the sense that something was off. The material was a bit too trap for my own liking. But their stage presence just struck me as being inauthentic, like a bunch of young, suburban white kids, who put on a hip-hop outfit that they could easily put on and take off at their convenience. When they went into a more Atmosphere/conscious hip-hop direction, it felt a lot more authentic, even though it’s been done countless times over.
Haviah Mighty is an acclaimed, Brampton, ON-born, Toronto-based artist, who first came to prominence in 2016 as a member of hip-hop group The Sorority, before stepping out into the spotlight as a solo artist with several EPs, including 2017’s Flower City. The EP, which derived its name from her hometown’s nickname, was released to critical applause locally and nationally. Complex named it their favorite Canadian release of that year. EP single “Pull Up” was named one of the best Toronto tracks of the first half of 2017 by Now Magazine. Adding to a growing profile, Mighty’s “Vamonos” was featured on the third season of HBO’s Insecure. The Sorority released their debut album, 2018’s Pledge, which was supported by touring throughout that year.
Her full-length debut, 2019’s 13th Floor was her critical and commercial breakthrough: XXL named her one of the “15 Toronto rappers you should know.” CBC Music called her one of the “New Faces of Canadian hip-hop.” 13th Floor went on to win that year’s Polaris Music Prize, which was history making: It made Mighty the first hip-hop artist and first Black woman to win the award.
Adding to growing profile nationally and elsewhere, Mighty’s 2021 mixtape Stock Exchange won that year’s Juno Award for Rap Album of the Year. This was another historical event for her: she was the first woman to ever win in that category. She was the only Canadian nominee at 2022’s BET Hip Hop Awards, receiving a nomination in the Best International Flow category. Her work has received praise from several internationally known outlets including Rolling Stone, Pitchfork, The FADER, GRM Daily, Hot New Hip Hop and more.
Mighty’s 2023 collaboration with Connor Price “Trendsetter” has amassed over 36 million streams globally.
Earlier this year, she embarked on a European tour with a handful of dates in the UK, Denmark, Ireland, Germany and Prague opening for Shabazz Palaces. Her single “Double the Fun,” was released to global support by Spotify. And adding to a big year, the Brampton-born, Toronto-based artist hosted and performed in the first ever Billboard Canada Women in Music event in September.
Her FME set managed to showcase one of Canada’s exceptionally talented artists, an Erykah Badu/Lauryn Hill type, who can spit bar upon bar of conscious, socio-politically incisive lyrics one moment, then sing a soulful torch ballad the next one and follow that with a fun house music bop with an effortless swagger. Her voice was often paired with equally genre-defying productions with elements of hip-hop, Afrobeats, house music, soul and more. I found her steadfast refusal to be pigeonholed and to follow wherever her muse took her to be inspiring.
Much like Orchestra Gold, it felt like the SiriusXM main stage crowd didn’t completely warm up to Mighty. I suspected that a major portion of that reception was language related. Francophone artists seemed to receive the biggest receptions, followed by bilingual artists, who could easily and effortlessly switch to French for stage banter. It was something I found annoying but understandable – especially since I’ve seen similar things when attending shows with international artists in New York. But I just felt as though an artist, who was that talented deserved a much more open crowd.
FME Day 3: August 31, 2024: Electro Evening in Collaboration with MUTEK Records feat. Marie Davidson and Kaya Hoax at Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda
112 Rue 7eime
MUTEK is a Montréal-based non-profit organization dedicated to the dissemination and development of digital creativity in sound, music and audiovisual art. The organization’s mandate is to provide a platform for the most original and visionary artists currently working in the fields with the specific intent of providing an outlet of initiation and discovery for the audiences they seek to develop.
The organization is best known for its annual festival, which celebrates its 25th anniversary next year. Throughout the festival’s history, it has distinguished itself internationally for its diverse mix of original and avant garde programming that reveals the organization’s interests in both the experimental and playful sides of digital creativity.
The festival has hosted renowned artists while providing a showcase for up-and-coming talent, with each edition providing an open, inviting environment that encourages rewarding exchanges between artists, professionals and the public, while drawing participants from all over the world.
As an organization MUTEK has always sought to expand its sphere of activities beyond the core festival, including showcases, tours, international editions of the festival and a record label. Continuing upon that reputation, MUTEK hosted a showcase of electronic music at Rouyn-Noranda’s Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda that featured Montréal-based electronic musician and producer Marie Davidson and rising Montréal-based artist Kaya Hoax, who played the Bonsound BBQ earlier in the festival.
Marie Davidson headlined the MUTEK showcase. Davidson has been a part of the Montréal scene for the better part of a decade, starting with her time as one-half of Les Momies de Palerme with Xarah Dion. Their 2010 debut, Brûlez ce coeur was released through Constellation Records.
Since then, Davidson has collaborated with Matana Roberts on her Coin Coin Chapter One: Gens de couleur libres and David Kristian, and she was part of the orchestral outfit Land of Kush.
But she may be best known for being one-half of acclaimed minimal wave duo Essaie pas with her partner Pierre Guerineau. Their sophomore album 2016’s Demain est un autre nuit was longlisted for that year’s Polaris Music Prize. Adding to a busy year, her third solo album, 2016’s Adiuex au dancefloor, which thematically explored her ambivalent feelings towards dance music and club culture, was named by Pitchfork as one of “The 20 Best Electronic Albums of 2016.”
Her fourth solo album 2018’s Working Class Woman and her fifth album, 2020’s Renegade Breakdown were both released through Ninja Tune.
Her FME set at Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda was a club friendly bit of industrial and goth-inspired techno anchored around glistening synths, earth rumbling thump and Davidson’s ironically detached, almost spoken word-like delivery. On stage, she took up the persona of a bored dominatrix in her room, strutting and vamping to her favorite song to get amped up before a client came in.
Davidson had the crowd within the palm of her hand, dancing and sweating through her set. Among the journalists, her set may have been one of the more buzzed about sets of the entire festival.
Because I saw Kaya Hoax the previous afternoon, I didn’t write much in the way of notes. But her Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda set was a reminder that she has a big future ahead of her – and saw her play a commanding set.
FME Day 3: August 31, 2024: Late Night Show: Slash Need at Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda Basement
112 Rue 7eime
Toronto-based industrial electronic outfit Slash Need closed out the festival’s third day with a late-night set at Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda’s basement. With roots in their hometown’s DIY community, the Canadian outfit have played confrontational, campy and seductive sets in abandoned buildings, skate parks, legion halls, raves, art galleries, drag shows and venues across Canada, the States and elsewhere, earning a reputation for aiming to intrigue, confuse and disgust.
Their set was arguably the most intentionally difficult to shoot but it gave the Toronto-based outfit a menacing, dangerous air as they performed darkly seductive industrial-inspired-darkwave that sounded indebted to Ministry, Nine Inch Nails and BDSM fantasies. And man, it fucking ripped hard.
FME Day 4: September 1, 2024: Lunch
Club De L’Age D’Or Kinsmen Noranda
25 Rue 7eime
Located on Rue 7eime between Avenue Fréderic Herbert and Chem. Tremoy, Club De L’Age D’or Kinsmen Noranda is a local social club that offers billiards, pétanque atout (which is a bit like bocci), shuffleboard, darts, line dancing, scrabble and bridge for its members. They’re also locally known for their hearty Sunday brunch for the public, which requires a ticket – or a festival delegate wristband.
I stopped by the brunch and chatted with D. D introduced me to Atsuko Chiba’s drummer Anthony Piazza. Along with his work with Atsuko Chiba, Piazza has developed a well-earned reputation for being an in-demand projection and lighting artist. He regularly does projections for Mothland’s showcases, including the label’s annual M for Mothland showcase at M for Montréal.
Piazza joked that Montréal-based photographers bitterly hated him and his work. I replied that I enjoyed a challenge – and that I thought it helped create some awesome photos. He left. But I got seconds and chatted with D and his friends.
A local festival employee started handing out FME branded stickers. On the back, someone neatly wrote “FME Showcase. Special Guest. Studio AdequaT. 16:00.”
FME Day 4: September 1, 2024: Tommy Jo at Studio AdequaT (not pictured)
173 Avenue Principale
Located on Avenue Principale between Rue Monseigneur Tessier and Rue Perreault East, Studio AdequaT is a salon/studio space in the heart of downtown Rouyn-Noranda. Conveniently, it was just a two-two-and-half block walk from my hotel. And I had some free time.
Studio AdeqauT turned out to be so small that a group of folks were standing in the open doorway and on the sidewalk to catch the festival’s surprise artist, an artist by the name of Tomy Jo.
The short set and featured two or three songs that I’d describe as a being jazzy, singer/songwriter Francophone pop featuring electric jazz-like guitar and a vocalist. But towards the song’s last song or two, it quickly and inexplicably to hip-hop. It was confusing as hell, but it was entertaining.
FME Day 4: September 1, 2024: 5 à 7: Strange Froots at Le Polonais Cocktail Bar (unpictured)
124 Avenue Principale
Located on the corner of Avenue Principale and Rue Gamble East, in the heart of downtown Rouyn-Noranda, Le Polonais Cocktail Bar is a trendy cocktail bar where “each glass is a unique experience, designed by passionate mixologists, who skillfully combine tradition and innovation.”
Throughout the festival’s run, Le Polonais hosted a couple of its 5 à 7 showcases – including Sunday evening’s showcase, which featured Montréal-based duo Strange Froots. The Montréal-based duo, singer/songwriters, emcees, multi-instrumentalists and producers Mags and Naika Champaïgne is the union of different backgrounds and different musical influences to create a sound that they’ve dubbed “alternative chill soul.”
Their first song struck me as being indebted to College Dropout-era Kanye West but there were nagging sound issues that just marred the song. The second song of the set was anchored around a soulful, Bill Withers-like sample paired with big rumbling bass. It was a conscious hip-hop track reminiscent of Common, Kanye West (before he lost his mind) and the like. Arguably, it was the best song of the set, even if it wasn’t the most original thing I’ve heard. The third song of their set was a bit of old-school Pete Rock-inspired hip-hop: a dusty and soulful production paired with boom bap.
Three songs showed the act’s penchant – and desire – for being genre-agnostic, a thumping house track with a soaring, cinematic string sample and skittering earthshaking beats, a straightforward house music song and a radio friendly The Weeknd-like pop anthem. But the material didn’t seem to live up to the duo’s remarkable talents. It was extremely disappointing.
FME Day 4: September 1, 2024: 5 à 7: Alex Pic at QG de spectacles à Rouyn-Noranda
11 Avenue Principale
Located near the intersection of Avenue Principale and Avenue du Lac, QG de spectacles à Rouyn-Noranda is a 380 people capacity, two level music venue with state-of-the-art video and lighting projection and more that hosts quality programming in collaboration with local promoters. Throughout the 2024 edition’s run, the venue hosted a handful of sets including Sunday evening’s 5 à7 showcases.
Alexandre Picard is a Rouyn-Noranda-born and-based singer/songwriter and musician, who may be best known for a 15-year stint in Lubik, a rock band that was also based in the Abitibi-Témiscamingue region. Picard is the creative mastermind behind the solo recording project Alex Pic. And since 2020, Picard has released a handful of singles and his solo debut, C’est une belle journée je crois.
I ran into my Wrexham lad Andy, who was also heading to QG for the Alex Pic set. The joint was packed. We were stuck standing by the wall, near stage left and the door. But there was some place to place a beer while typing notes, so I was happy either way.
When Picard and his backing band got on stage, the room exploded in joyous noise. They had been waiting to see a hometown boy triumphantly take the stage and play the songs they knew and loved – and they were open to knowing his new material. Live, the material bounced around a series of familiar influences – a bit of post-punk for the opening song; a bit of The Strokes and Spoon for a song or two; and a lot of Dire Straits for much of the set. The material revealed an artist, who could write an anthemic hook while balancing a mix of twangy and dreamy tempos. Although the Rouyn Norandans in the building responded to the set, it felt corny and familiar – and it didn’t feel like it truly served the talent effortlessly playing the material.
FME Day 4: September 1, 2024: Closing Show at Le Paramount feat. The Brooks, Petite Aime and Joe Grass
15 Rue Gamble East
The historic Le Paramount Cinema, located on Rue Gamble East between Avenue Principale and Avenue Daillaire, was built in 1948. The theater, which was run by Ted Soucy was a member of the Famous Players movie theater chain with the Capitol Cinema, originally located on Avenue Principale.
When Soucy died, his wife took over until the theater was sold to the Gaudreault family. But in 1996, the theater was closed to make way for a modern, multiplex complex on Rue Perreault East.
In 2010, Rouyn-Noranda-based event production and promotion company Les Frangines purchased and renovated the building, turning it into a concert venue that retains much of the character and feel of the old movie theater.
The original Art Deco-inspired marquee suffered through years of damage, presumably from the elements During renovations, the original marquee was replaced with replaced with an almost exact replica of the original, which lovingly preserves the character and spirit of the building. Parts of the original marquee, namely the “Le Paramount” sign was moved indoors, as part of a section detailing the building’s history.
The lobby, which now hosts Les Frangines’ administration offices, a small food court and bar and their ticket operations, pretty much still looks as it did in 1948 with minor – and I mean superficially minor – alterations.
Le Paramount hosted FME’s Closing Show featuring Montréal-based soul and funk outfit The Brooks, Mexico City-based shoegazers Petite Aime and Montréal-based folk artist Joe Grass. Fittingly, this showcase closed the festival out with the same eclecticism of the festival’s SiriusXM Main Stage showcases earlier in the week.
From their humble beginnings playing shows at renowned Montréal-based jazz club Diése Onze to playing some of the biggest festival stages on both sides of the Atlantic, Montréal-based soul and funk outfit The Brooks, which features a core lineup of Alexandre Lapointe (bass), Alan Prater (vocals, trombone), Phillipe Look (guitar) and Phillipe Beaudin (percussion) have firmly cemented a crowd-pleasing, funky groove-driven sound that’s influenced by James Brown, Fela Kuti and Herbie Hancock.
The room got so hot from all the folks packed together dancing, that I desperately needed to go outside for a few minutes. But the band played a set of strutting, feel-good soul, delivered with the self-assured aplomb of old pros, who are still having a shit ton of fun doing it.
Founded back in 2020 by Little Jesus bassist Carlos Medina, the Mexico City-based psych pop act Petite Aime expanded into a full-fledged band when Aline Terrein (vocals), Isabel Dosal (vocals), Santiago Fernández (bass) and Jacobo Velazquez (guitar) joined to write and record 2021’s critically applauded self-titled full-length debut.
The Mexico City-based quintet’s self-titled debut draws from an eclectic array of influences including The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Big Thief, Magic Potion, Unknown Mortal Orchestra and Crumb while seeing the band craft material that fluctuates between different genres and styles while being anchored in psych pop and psych rock. Lyrically and thematically, the album is an expression of the existential angst in a world where the line between what’s real and what’s virtual continually blurs.
Their FME set at Le Paramount primarily focused on the material off their full-length debut, features lyrics written and sung in Spanish, French and English paired with their uncanny knack for catchy, hook-driven groove, adept musicianship and an energetic, playful stage presence. The bopped and smiled and grooved throughout the entire set. They quickly grabbed the crowd and had them in the palm of their hands, at one point happily leading them through a soccer stadium-styled chant. It was adorable.
Among the crowd and the journalists at the show, there was a sense that the Mexican quintet should – and could be – a lot bigger than what they are right now: They’re multi-lingual, attractive and are just adorable. And the material was just both thoughtful and incredibly catchy.
Joe Grass is a Moncton, New Brunswick-born, Montréal-based singer/songwriter and musician. While he’s been writing and recording his own music for close to two decades, when he relocated to Montréal, he became a highly sought-after collaborator, working with Lhasa, Patrick Watson, JOVM mainstay Elisapie and The Barr Brothers, as well as his avant pop band Klaus. Those partnerships have taught him to a unique songwriting technique: how to unmake a tune – picking up someone else’s idea and finding new ways to fill it in.
With last year’s On Falcon’s Heart, Grass wanted to bring that same process to his own work, writing the song himself and then reassemble it, changed. The album sees the Moncton-born artist lifting sounds out of old forms, deconstructing timeless country music and making it dazzlingly kaleidoscopic.
Grass led an accomplished and supremely talented band that played old-school country without being clumsy, stereotypical or trite and it was complex without being pretentious or inaccessible, which is an extremely difficult balance. The breathtakingly lush arrangements were accompanied by Grass’ remarkably sonorous and soulful baritone. It was a surprisingly gorgeous set, which featured a forceful desert blues-like song that showcased each musician’s remarkable musicianship and their tightness.
FME Day 4: September 1, 2024: Late Night Show at Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda Basement: Patche
112 Rue 7eime
Much like the festival’s previous three days, the night ended at Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda’s basement to catch Montréal-based prog outfit Patche. Patche – Eliot Durocher Bundock, Étienne Dupré, Lévy Bourbonnais, Mandela Coupal-Dalgleish and JB Pinard – closed the festival out with an improvised and downright danceable set of material that effortlessly blended Mildlife-like jazz fusion with prog rock and No Wave. At other times, the material hinted at dub and Afrobeat.
They had the entire room dancing for their set, including yours truly – until I desperately needed to sit down again. But what an incredible way to close out the festival.
FME Day 5: September 2, 2024: Heading home
Hotel Albert par G5
84 Avenue Principale
Times have change and times are stragne
Here I come, but I ain’t the same
Mama, I’m coming home . . .
My alarm rings at 7:00am. I brush my teeth. I take a shower. I get dressed. Then I packed the last-minute stuff and head downstairs for breakfast and coffee. Everything hurt. But man, I had fun.
It’s going to be a long day: The folks staying at Hotel Albert had a van scheduled for 9:00. At that time of year, there’s maybe a flight or two a day up to Rouyn-Noranda. So, if you missed the flight, you’d be stuck in Rouyn-Noranda until the next morning – or you’d be desperately seeking a ride down to Montréal with any festival staff or band that was still in town and about to head out. And you best believe, that if you were able to get a ride that there would be someone angry about squeezing in one more person into a stuffed van or car.
I may have been the first in the cafeteria, but gradually the journalist colleagues began coming downstairs. If we didn’t exchange Instagram handles earlier, we were doing it before heading home.
Wong and I stepped outside to wait for the van for a bit. While we were waiting, D, the Anglophone publicist drove by the hotel to pick up Darcy, a Montréal-based journalist, who I befriended early in the festival – and to say goodbye to those he missed the night before, including me. D got out of the car, and was complaining – jokingly – about how Darcy was always late for everything.
I noticed that D had a t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops on. It was a very chilly 40 degrees Fahrenheit outside. He was white after all – extremely white, I should say. D said goodbye to all the Anglophone journalists at Hotel Albert while waiting for Darcy.
Darcy came back downstairs, and they drove off.
FME Day 5: FME Fever?
Rouyn-Noranda Regional Airport
100 Rue Taschereau East
After we all tetris’d out backpacks and luggage into the back of the van, there was a silent van ride to the airport. My Wrexham lad Andy was responding to emails. Wong was loading photos onto Instagram. I texted friends and family, letting them know I was off to the airport. But most of the ride, I stared out of the window for the bulk of the ride.
20 minutes or so later, we’re at the airport. All of us go through the security screening. And while we’re in the main waiting room waiting for our plane, a security guard came out from the back and says “Excuse me. Excuse me. Did someone forget their laptop?”
My Wrexham lad started to dig around in his backpack. “I saw you place your laptop into your backpack,” I told him. “It’s not yours. And it’s not mine.”
Several other people start digging around their bags, with looks that said “Oh no, is it me? Am I the half-awake idiot, who almost lost their laptop?”
Suddenly Angela pops up and said “Oops. It’s me!” She bashfully goes to retrieve her computer. When she returned, some of the group playfully teased her for a few seconds. But we all agree that she was lucky that she forgot it in Rouyn-Noranda and not a busier airport, like Pierre Trudeau or Toronto.
FME Day 5: Pierre Elliot Trudeau Montréal International Airport: 12:55pm
We land in Montréal. The Canadians happily decided to go off for a celebratory post-festival drink. But because Angela and I had to clear customs, we had to see our Canadians off. As I went through customs, an American border patrol agent says to me “Welcome home!” I felt a bit of disgust, shame, annoyance.
Angela decides to get something to eat. I go off to get a couple of pints of Guinness at an Irish pub I somehow find myself in each time I’m in town. We then met at our gate. We started chatting about music, the festival and our careers while watching our Air Canada apps. A few minutes later, I look at my Air Canada and turn to Angela and say, “Oh shit, Ang, this app just said our flight left!”
We look at each other with a sense of confused panic. How did we miss our flight, when we were at our gate? Arsenic-induced dreams, perhaps? We could have sworn that we didn’t hear any groups being announced or much of anything really. What do we do?
We look at each other and say in unison: “FME!” and burst out laughing. Then we realized that our luggage was going to arrive before we were. More laughter ensued. We went to a customer service desk and luckily, they were able to squeeze us on to the next flight.
What a trip y’all. Merci beaucoup FME. Merci beaucoup Rouyn-Noranda. Au revoir. Auf wiedersehen. Tots ziens. Hasta luego. Farewell.
[1] His name was changed to protect the innocent – or the guilty. Whichever you prefer.
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