At 23 years of age, traipsing between two cities and across the continent with a guitar in hand, local folkster Charlotte Cornfield has become well acquainted with the thrill and loneliness inherent in love, travel and coming home.

Over the past five years, the Toronto native has proven herself to be a versatile and tireless musician within Montreal’s jazz and folk scenes.  She’s a graduate of Concordia University’s music program, where she studied jazz drumming; she plays drums in two other local bands (Bent By Elephants and Takk) in addition to pursuing her solo career. She has previously released two EPs – It’s Like That Here (2007) and Collage Light (2009) – but it’s her new, debut full-length album, Two Horses, which secures her spot among the country’s top folk-rock musicians.

Cornfield’s throaty bray and fearless rock’n’roll style come out in full force on Two Horses. Hers is a voice that can be rough and rollicking one moment, soft and silvery the next. Paired with a strong backing band comprised of both Montreal and Toronto talent, Cornfield has created an album to savour as we drift into shorter days, with leaves on the ground and breath hanging in the air.

Two Horses traces a single love affair through seasons and cities, secrets and dreams, games and lies. But before you turn your nose up in fear of sappy love songs or brokenhearted balladry, take note: This is one of the richest collections of contemporary folk songs out there, featuring commanding arrangements and lyrics that sparkle with the perspective of a young woman who has grown wiser, sharper and more confident with age and experience.

While the affair itself did not end happily, it did produce a huge wave of inspiration that found Cornfield writing constantly, ending up with ten songs and one story of two people navigating through chance and confusion in the city.

The Rover spoke with Cornfield as she was preparing for a slew of album release shows in Ontario. Thrilled to have the album finished after a year of work, Cornfield is ready to spend some time on the road, sharing it with audiences across Canada.

But how much of a challenge is it to share so much raw emotion through her songwriting and performing? Cornfield responds with assurance:

“When I started performing songs on my own, I learned very quickly how to just let go, to let things come out and not hold on to things, because I found that the freer I was with words and with expressing how I was feeling, the more people could relate to the songs and the better I felt about the song being complete.

“I knew as I was writing these songs that they were thematic, they were all related to this one particular affair – and that’s kind of what I wanted. I wanted to look at it from all these different angles, from the highs and lows of it, that’s what I wanted to express. I wanted to get inside of it.

“So I think, because I’ve learned to put myself on the line a little bit, it just kind of flowed out and I’m really happy how it all comes together in these ten songs.”

Was there ever a fear of revealing too much, or of the other person’s reaction to the album?

“In all honesty, I don’t have a huge amount of sympathy for this person, so if stuff gets out there and if it seems to be revealing, then I’m okay with that. In the end, I just need to express what I want to, and I don’t really feel the need to protect anyone. And in the end, it’s just a story, and it comes out the way it comes out, and that’s fine with me, however it gets interpreted.”

It’s still a story with a very local setting – the cities of Montreal and Toronto receive just as much lyrical attention as the lovers do. Cornfield’s ties to both cities complicate her idea of home and exert strong forces on her identity and songwriting.

“Feeling the push and pull of both [Toronto and Montrea], that definitely has a very prominent role in the music I write. ’Cause I grew up in Toronto, and this is where my family is and a lot of people are, but I spent a very important last five years of my life in Montreal and there’s a pull from each city. My mind always trips over things like place and how it relates to the rest of my life… I’m always wondering if I’m in the right place at the right time. So that relationship definitely comes through in the songs. And then there’s a lot of middle-ground imagery like Gananoque and Kingston… it’s just a 401 story, basically.”

Cornfield regularly lists Joni Mitchell as a major influence in her songwriting and style. Both artists share a knack for getting right to the heart of human relationships; deconstructing the games people play, filling their songs with genuine emotion while avoiding puddles of sentimentality.

On the topic of Mitchell, Cornfield starts nattering away excitedly, at once an admiring fan and inspired artist…

“For me, she is a person who puts it all on the line, everything – she gives everything the emotion that she’s feeling but in such an eloquent and poetic way. She’s been able to articulate things that I have never heard anyone else say. …And especially since a lot of her music was written as a young woman in her twenties, being out on the road in this culture of male-dominated singer/songwriterdom and just being an anomaly [in that context]. And it’s a lot different now, but I relate to a lot of her music and I think she is just the strongest writer Canada has ever seen.”

Maybe so, but with this new album, Cornfield proves she’s the young blood set to revitalize the old guard. Armed with a guitar, she’s a force to be reckoned with.

Charlotte Cornfield’s record release show is this Friday, November 4^th at Sala Rossa, with special guests The Youjsh. Win a pair of tickets to the show by ‘liking’ the related post on Rover’s facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/Rover.Digs.Montreal

Contest closes Friday afternoon.

To buy tickets, click here.

The post Taking the Reins appeared first on The Rover.

In my Mile End apartment building, which is sinking into the ground and falling apart at the seams, I often hear strange and wonderful sounds coming from the basement. Sometimes it’s klezmer music being played on a melodica, sometimes there’s a string quartet. A few months ago, there was a barrage of puppets knocking down the door of this basement apartment, demanding an invitation to the sleepover party.

The host of these hopping pajama parties is my neighbour, Josh Dolgin, also known as Socalled. Dolgin is a terrifically zany, multitalented artist at the vanguard of the klezmer-hip-hop scene. He’s also a magician, he makes puppets and now he can add creator of musicals to his diverse list of accomplishments.  The Season: A Socalled Musical, is making its one-night-only world premiere at Théâtre Outremont this Sunday, Sept. 25, as part of Pop Montreal.

The door to the Dolgin Den opened up to me last weekend and I found myself sitting in a living room cluttered with toys, kitsch and musical instruments with Poopsie, the Shih Tzu whose tongue is perpetually stuck out, sprawled on my lap. I’m Popeye the Sailor Man was playing in another room, and Josh was frying up some perogies made by the ladies of the Polish church nearby. “I’ll give you one. But only one!” he announced. And then, from the kitchen: “Um, do you eat pork?” Yes, yes I do.

Over perogies and pork, we talk puppets and musical theatre – two subjects I will happily geek out over if given the chance. Josh seems to feel the same. Having never created a musical before, he is excited and utterly terrified about this Sunday’s show. His eyes light up over every detail and his speech is punctuated with jubilant hoots and hollers. He grabs a stack of musical scores and starts shuffling through them. “Look at this! These are parts! Harp part! Meteor Shower! Violin! The Bear! The Hunter! The Beaver!” He sits back and explains how The Season got its start.

ELAN Québec had initially pitched an idea to Pop Montreal king and Dolgin’s manager, Dan Seligman, to create a showcase of English Montreal talent for this weekend’s State of the Arts Summit. ELAN envisioned bands, dancers and theatre artists doing separate performances during a one-night event. Dolgin thought, “‘Well this could be a good excuse to make a musical, where you put together all these artists without it just being, like, a band and a dancer.”

Dolgin called upon a variety of English and French Montreal artists to collaborate on the show, which features his own music and puppet creations. “The lead, for instance, is being played by Yves Lambert, who is like, the face of Quebec folk culture. But he’ll be speaking English because we’re cool like that – we’re just all artists and it’s Montreal.”

Musicals are foreign territory only in that Dolgin has never created one before. “I was in a lot of musicals as a kid,” he says. “And over there,” he gestures to his massive record collection which takes up an entire living room wall, “the biggest section could be Broadway – mainly because I bought a lot of records at Salvation Armies in NYC and also because they’re full of samples for hip-hop, if you’re looking for weird noises. I sort of love musicals on one hand and despise them on the other. They’re basically a guilty pleasure.”

The cast and creative team behind The Season include Dolgin’s longtime collaborator Katie Moore on singing duty; local actor Joe Cobden, who is acting and writing the book; professional puppeteers and dancers; a string quartet, and a harpist. They have one week to rehearse, but Dolgin assures me that everyone has been working on their parts in advance.

“So, you’re like, the director, right?”

His eyes widen and a nervous grin appears. “I guess so! We’ll see what happens tomorrow. Hopefully Joe’s gonna help a lot as a pro actor dude. Maybe I’m like the general director and there are, like, companies of soldiers… I can be like Winston Churchill.” He laughs and lets out a yelp.

“And I’m gonna play piano too. Which I’m scared about! ’Cause I have to learn all these parts, and I’m a terrible reader.” But didn’t you write the parts?

“Yeah, but I don’t remember the damn things!”

The style of music, he tells me, is unlike anything he’s ever written before. He pulls some sheet music onto his keyboard and starts playing. “They’re sort of catchy.” He noodles on the keys, scrunching up his face over the score. “What the hell is that? I can’t even read it.” It starts to come together, a little jazzy, kinda funky. “Oh yeah, I get it… right!” And then it really starts sounding like a song.

“Fred Wesley, this guy who I work with, was James Brown’s trombone player and arranger. I’ve made a record with him and he’s gonna write an overture. I sent him all the tunes and said, ‘Make this into a three-minute overture. Make it like a blaxploitation soundtrack!’”

He adds that there will be some classically-styled music, some cheesy Broadway-esque tunes and an accordion number for Lambert. Dolgin doesn’t reveal much about the story, preferring to keep it secret until Sunday. “It’s set in the forest. And there are aliens. It’s basically a love story. A fairy tale, fable kind of love story set in the Gatineau Hills, which is where I’m from.”

Inevitably, the puppets join our conversation. He picks up a smartly-dressed dog puppet and throws me a pink pig-monster wearing a silky green kimono. We put them on our arms and they come to life, squawking and nodding their heads.

“About a year ago I remembered that I had made this puppet in high school, and how fun it was, and I just remembered, ‘Oh yeah, you take foam, you glue it together, and okay, cool!’ First, I tried to find foam and I just became obsessed with it. I went all over the place looking for foam, and I found some in the garbage and I cut it in half and made it soft enough to work with and made this puppet.” The dog waves proudly.

“And then I found foam Shangri-La! There’s this upholstery store on St-Viateur that has fucking foam for days. Found the Shangri-La, started the first puppet – who is the star of the show, he’s a bear – and I made it with a sock and some real fur. And I just kept making them… probably because it’s not really my job and it’s just like, a fun thing to do… It wasn’t music and it wasn’t all the other fun things I do for a living. I’ve made about ten so far. They’re all on the cover of my CD.”

The beady eyes, felted teeth and plushness of Dolgin’s puppets are wonky and irresistible, like Muppet crack. And so, despite the mass of human talent performing in The Season, the puppets will be the real stars. In keeping with everything else he does, Dolgin just might be leading a puppet renaissance.

“Puppets are everywhere all of a sudden. I didn’t mean to be part of that,” he says nervously.

I don’t think puppets have gotten so hip that you should be worried, I say.

“I hear Kanye West is doing a puppet thing, and if Kanye West is doing it…” He trails off. I assure him that Kanye is probably just copying him. “Yeah, I know. He’s totally always two steps behind me.” He strikes a few more chords triumphantly on the keyboard and the pink pig bops along.

Let’s just say you heard it from him first.

The Season: A Socalled Musical, part of Pop Montreal, plays for one night only at Théâtre Outremont (1240 Bernard W.), Sept. 25, at 8:30 pm
For tickets, visit: http://popmontreal.com/en/event/season-musical-socalled

Photo: Megan Stewart

The post From Fiddlers on the Roof to Puppeteers in the Basement appeared first on The Rover.

Pop Montreal turns ten this year and is demanding attention the way any overly energetic, sugar-high-happy child would. It wants you to run all over the city like a fool, dance hard and sing out loud, watch movies and play games, and, uh…drink.  So maybe it’s not quite your average 10-year-old.

Whatever metaphor you want to attach to it, Pop is upon us and will be taking over the city from now until Sunday. With such a variety of music, art, craft, film, workshops, fashion and fun packed into the program, it’s hard to ignore this fest. Not sure where to begin? Let Rover be your guide…

To satisfy your inner artsy fart, check out the curated exhibitions, performances and installations at Art Pop. We’re especially intrigued by Craig Fahner and Steve Gurysh’s How to Improve the World; Julie Doucet’s exhibition of collages, drawings, linocuts and zines; The Raincoats – Adventures; and the premiere of two Marcel Dzama films followed by a Q&A with the artist himself.

At Film Pop you can catch a movie between concerts or recover from your inevitable hangover in the dark cocoon of the cinema spaces at Blue Sunshine and the Pop Headquarters. Check out the full program here.  The Pop Symposium offers a rich selection of workshops, panel discussions, and artist talks throughout the extended weekend. On Saturday and Sunday, fill your belly with Polish food and your canvas tote bag with cutesy crafts at Puces Pop, happening at Saint Michael’s Church on St-Viateur.

Then, of course, there is the astounding amount of shows. Here is yet another list of POP music picks, from your friendly superhero Rover editors:

The Balconies This Ottawa trio have been keeping osteopaths busy across the country with their head-snapping brand of brazen rock-pop since their surprising debut a couple of years back. Smart and sophisticated (in the way only classically-trained musicians can be), free-wheeling and on fire (in the way only classically-trained musicians can’t be), The Balconies are an exercise in the future of music… which goes some way towards explaining why some are already characterizing their Pop appearance as a festival highlight before the show even happens. At Petit Campus, Sept. 21, 10: 45 pm. (Jamie O’Meara)

Fuck Montreal Who cares what they sound like? These femme-fronted Halifax punks have their hard hearts in exactly the right place… directly next to their balls. We like. At Club Lambi, Sept. 21, 10 pm. (JOM)

Snowblink With an antlered guitar and a satchel full of silver bells, Snowblink weaves together golden threads, birdcalls, and the whispers of the wind to create musical magic. Sharing the bill with Tasseomancy, Evening Hymns, Forest City Lovers and Ohbijou, this will surely be an enchanted evening. O Patro Vys, Sept. 23, 9:45 pm. (Megan Stewart)

Cousins Drums, guitar, wailing vocals and plenty of distortion make up Cousins’ rollicking mess of a sound. Start your Friday with some easy East Coast rock ‘n roll. With Cotton Mouth + Mozart’s Sister + Born Gold + Miracle Fortress. Mission Santa Cruz, Friday, Sept. 23, 8pm (MS)

tUnE-YarDs Montreal’s favourite Amazonian-voiced, drum-slapping, uke ‘n bass-strumming musical powerhouse is back in town. Whether she’s playing a dingy basement or a huge concert hall, Merrill Garbus can electrify any space with her overwhelming energy and sound. It’s jangly jungle pop to rouse the wild animals, or at least the neighbourhood raccoons. With Pat Jordache and Touchy Mob, Ukranian Federation, Sept. 23, 8pm. (MS)

Ponderosa Stomp Revue There is so much happening on Friday night it hurts, but this is one show that will really be worth your time. The Ponderosa Stomp is an American roots music festival and foundation that exists “to celebrate, pay tribute to, and teach the cultural significance of the unsung heroes and heroines of rock-n-roll, rhythm & blues and other forms of American roots music while they are still alive.” These folks are bringing us a night of big-hearted Southern soul and R&B legends who may fly under the radar, but will nevertheless knock your socks off with their musical chops and infectious grooves. Featuring Lil’ Buck and The Buckaroos, Ralph ‘Soul’ Jackson, Bobby Allen, and The Velvelettes. Cabaret du Mile-End, Friday, Sept. 23, 9:30pm. (MS)

One Hundred Dollars + Snailhouse Toronto’s One Hundred Dollars has a new album and a slightly altered band makeup but their honest alt-country sound is as fierce as ever. If you’ve never seen steely-eyed lead singer Simone Schmidt stomp around a stage singing tough love songs with her ragged voice, get yourself to Casa on Friday. Stay late for the soothing songs and stories of Montreal’s Snailhouse. Casa del Popolo, Friday, Sept. 23, 11:30 pm. (MS)

Allie Hughes Hopefully she’s packed her white dress and veil, cause this Torontonian maven of melodramatic pop sure throws one hell of a wedding party, and she’s got a crazy voice to boot. O Patro Vys, Saturday, Sept. 24, 12:00am. (MS)

Redd Kross This longstanding L.A. power-pop outfit – active, off and on, since the late­-’70s – have played some incendiary shows in Montreal (including a brain-burner at Foufounes with Sonic Youth in 1991 that is now the stuff of legend), and will likely do so again at the refurbished Rialto Theatre in the company of highly-regarded Montreal garage-rock sextet Les Breastfeeders, the much-buzzed about Uncle Bad Touch (featuring Priestess frontman Mikey Heppner) and Cocobeurre (“cosmopolitan” electro-pop, whatever that means…). At the Rialto Theatre, Sept. 24, 7:30 pm. (JOM)

Peter Hook & The Light A must-see performance by the former New Order bassist and founding member of much-referenced post-punk architects Joy Division. Hook and Co. will be playing the entirety of Joy Division’s debut album, Unknown Pleasures. As the Pop Mtl. press literature correctly points out, “this is as close as you’ll ever get to experiencing Joy Division live.” ’Nuff said. At Club Soda, Sept. 25, 9 pm. (JOM)

Sacred Sunday Rest your weary soul and tired feet at the Ukranian Federation on Sunday afternoon for Patrick Watson’s afternoon of holy rollin’ music for God. Featuring Lil’ Andy, Katie Moore, Amy Millan, Alden Penner and a special performance from the Sacred Harp Singers, which will lift up your heart and let it sing. UK FED, Sunday, Sept. 25, 3pm. (MS)

The Season: The Socalled Musical Puppets + musical theatre + dancing + forest creatures + aliens + romance + Socalled. What more do you need to bring your Pop adventures to a close? One night only! Théâtre Outremont, Sunday, Sept. 25, 7:30pm (MS)

The post Pop Goes the Weekend appeared first on The Rover.

After 12 years, Amelia Curran has finally come home. Curran left St John’s, Newfoundland in her early twenties to pursue her music career in Halifax but felt the pull of her rocky island province every day she was away from it. Her haunting acoustic folk is romance and regret tinged with sea salt and gin. It’s a particular kind of melancholy that pulls the listener in with mysterious melodies, acoustic guitar and accordion, and rewards the attuned ear with profound lyricism and pointed turns of phrase.

Curran nestled herself easily into Halifax’s music scene, releasing four albums over six years and founding In The Dead of Winter Festival, a winter weekend of local and international acoustic music to melt hearts and warm souls. She came back to Newfoundland briefly in 2009 to record her Juno award-winning album Hunter, Hunter.  When the frightening truth of having been away for 12 years set in, Curran packed her bags and returned to the rock. She was still riding the high of being home when Rover spoke with her on the phone this week.

“It feels fabulous to be home. Although I was in Halifax for 12 years and it was great and I’m gonna miss it, everyone in Halifax knows that St John’s is always my home…where I wanted to be, where I feel most complete.  Islanders are known for that. You always want to be home, everything’s just a little bit better when you’re home.”

It’s true. As an Islander myself, every return home feels like a dream.  Yet Maritimers are often propelled by the urge to leave: to the mainland, to bigger cities, to adventures far away. It’s once we leave that the realization sets in of just how deep islands and oceans are embedded into our identities. Curran is well traveled, thanks to a life of non-stop touring, but she never felt like anywhere else could be home. “I’ve always been an East Coaster. Newfoundland is definitely part of my whole existence somehow, and I’m sure it comes through in the music but I couldn’t say how. I almost don’t want to, in case I jinx it or something.”

Asked whether she struggles with the perpetual motion of being a touring musician, Curran responds, “I spend 200 days a year on the road, so that’s my life. It’s like going to the office, and sometimes it takes ten hours to get there and sometimes it takes half an hour to get there. I think I’m just accustomed to it now, but it’s definitely a different lifestyle. I’m usually on the road by myself; of course you’re surrounded, at the airport, at the train station, but there’s a sense of anonymity in that, in being surrounded by people and alone at the same time.”

It’s a feeling that follows her not just while traveling, but in performance too. Being the lone artist onstage can be both arresting and intoxicating, and a certain amount of letting go is required to establish the delicate relationship between artist and audience.

Curran admits, “A lot of it is a blind leap of faith. I’m not the most exciting performer, I’m standing there by myself; I’m not dancing or putting on a big spectacle or anything. So you go out and you offer what you have to offer and you hope that people are with you at the end of it. And every time I’m nervous and every time I’m surprised and grateful that there’s this sense of agreement or approval or something from the audience. I find it really special. But it’s that blind leap of faith every time and I’m terrified every time.”

Songwriting too, however rewarding when the final product comes together, still brings occasional terrors and insecurity. “I’m in the middle of nailing down the songs I’m gonna start recording in a couple weeks. I’m still demoing and tearing my hair out a little bit. I feel like I have to be very careful with [the process], so the songs don’t run away or get forgotten or get ruined by overthinking them too much. I think I’m probably difficult to be around these days.

I’ll lose every ounce of confidence and then one little lyric can bring back the sense of knowing what you’re doing. And in demoing these songs, and leafing through all the books over the past few years and looking for that little assurance that I do know what I’m doing. Cause writing can get away from you.”

In her songwriting, Curran mines the depths of sadness, revealing its unexpected moments of peace and reverie. It’s a dark place, but she’s comfortable there. “I guess a lot of my songs sound quite sad at first listen” she professes, “and its until you can get into the lyrics of it that its not necessarily so depressing and sad. But I think sadness is important and kind of fascinating. There’s a lot in it, it’s not just moping, there’s so many layers to sadness. And a lot of those layers are actually delightfully introspective, really present and calm and lingering, and those are the things I like about thinking and about philosophy and about sadness. A lot of it appears sad, but I think that’s what’s fascinating about it.

I hope it comes across.”

Amelia Curran plays Divan Orange tonight, Sept. 10^th, with Folly and the Hunter + Laurent Bourque. Want to win a pair of tickets for the show? Just like this article on Rover’s facebook page and we’ll put your name in the draw!

To purchase tickets, visit http://www.indiemontreal.ca/

The post The Hunter Comes Home appeared first on The Rover.

New Zealand band The Naked & Famous are really hitting their stride as they skip across the globe. Since their album Passive Me, Aggressive You dropped in March, the band has been touring the continent and Europe nonstop, spreading their sparkling, summery electro pop wherever they go.

Their band name was prescient, as fame arrived quickly after the anthemic Young Blood became the first single from an Auckland band to debut at number one on the New Zealand charts in 16 years. Music bloggers and fans from around the world caught on, heralding them as the best thing since MGMT lost their focus and fun. Soon, the band was receiving attention, airplay, and major gigs in their home country, the UK, and North America.

With such youthful energy and an album of hits that could revive any lackluster dance party, one might expect TN&F to be a real group of revelers, but these five hip-kids are serious about their sound. They’re dedicated to keeping the spirits high and the music fresh, despite a tour schedule that could induce the inexperienced to hard drugs and heavy drinking. Band member Thom Powers assures me, “We’re not a party band and are very focused on delivering the best shows we can to the amazing people who have come to see us…We keep the sound in an airtight container at all times and out of direct sunlight.”

Which is probably a good thing; if the band wants every show to contain the explosive and raw dynamism they’ve become, well, famous for.

Though, as Powers reveals, everyone has their moments on tour. “I’m not sure where our sanity levels are lately. David’s started making more and more animal noises when he gets excited.” Luckily, howls and growls fit right in on many TN&F songs. Punching in a Dream, anyone?

When asked about their tour experiences in Canada and abroad, Powers answers that “Everyday is full of antics so everyday is memorable…We’ve been to Montreal, Toronto and Vancouver before with Foals and Freelance Whales. We had a great time and the shows were incredible.”

Their one hesitation about their Canadian tour dates? Border Patrol. “Paul Kennedy, our Sound Engineer, got interrogated at the Canadian border, because there’s another Paul Kennedy who is wanted.” Hopefully, Canadian Customs has caught on to this indie sensation by now and flashed the green light, since this tour shows no signs of slowing down in the next few months.

It’s impossible to ignore the vibrant visual aesthetic that is married to TN&F’s sound. From their music videos, to concert projections, and sharp graphic design, the band has upheld an impressive eye for aesthetics since their formation. “We leave all the visual and graphic work to a group called Special Problems. They’ve worked with us from the start and everything they’ve done for us has been perfect.”

On the band’s musical influences, and recreating their studio sound in concert, Powers notes, “We all grew up listening to different music but still had common ground with groups like Massive Attack, Deftones, Chemical Brothers and Bloc Party. In the studio, Aaron [and I] will flick through other songs for production references, on stage we’re focused on executing the songs as they should be. We’ve spent a lot of time and resources making sure we can replicate the songs live as they are on the recordings.”

So what are you waiting for, Montreal? Scuff up your dancing shoes, squeeze into those skinny jeans, and get yourself to Sala Rossa on Wednesday, August 10, for some sweaty electro pop that will light your firecracker heart.

The Naked and Famous play a (sold out!) show with Winter Gloves at Sala Rossa on August 10. Try and scrounge some tickets at the door or check out Rover’s facebook contest to win yourself a pair.

The post Naked, Famous and on Fire appeared first on The Rover.

Sappy Saturday begins with the Bridge Street Farmer’s Market. Espresso, Sappy sandwiches, apple fritters and fresh green beans. There is a bit of rain, but also a big tent to keep us dry, and love and music to keep us warm. Love is a recurring theme of Sappy Saturday.

Montreal’s Hidden Words sing songs of infinite love and peace to a crowd of young parents and younger children. Alden Penner requests dimmer lights, to connect with the audience better. We sit in chairs, lulled by music, admiring the red and yellow full-body rain suits worn by these kids.

Pat LePoidevin is a young hometown hero. A local introduces him, brimming with Sackville pride. LePoidevin is modest and woodsy looking. He sings about dancing in forest fires and raspberry pies, and howls like a wolf. His “golden business boy tied up in the fire” foreshadows a later show. He brings the tears with Highway Houses, when he puts his guitar down and calms us all to stillness with just his voice and a loop pedal, layering harmonies with incredible control and boundless feeling. The harmonies go higher and higher, the rain falls softly on top of the tent, we are in a silent trance. Then, he stops the pedals, and we all sing, over and over, filling the tent with this shared song.

Later, Little Scream illuminates the Vogue theatre. Living room lamps surround Laurel Sprengelmeyer and her five-piece band, casting shadows that dance on the movie screen. She tells whale jokes, dedicates a song or two to the whales. Her songs are expansive, soft and rolling, moaning sorrowfully and soaring often.

John K. Samson is Sappy’s first gift to us on Saturday evening. Up on the mainstage, surrounded by potted plants and flowers, he sings about Winnipeg’s golden business boy in his opening song, One Great City. Two more favourites follow – Plea from a Cat Named Virtue and Night Windows. Samson plays Weakerthans songs and his solo stuff, and premieres his song about the graduate student struggling to write his thesis, which receives supportive hoots from the academics in the crowd. He is earnest, sweet and true. He dedicates The Reasons to SappyFest, and together we sing, “I’m so glad that you exist!”

The Burning Hell make love sound terrible—“it’s like a marmoset: it may be small and cute, but sometimes it eats its young.” Still, they have us shouting love loud and long in Uncle Larry’s bar. Toronto’s Bonjay rock the mainstage tent with their poppy, dancehall beats, and belting R&B vocals, sending everyone into a dance frenzy.

We’re short of breath and fired up when the evening’s headliner, Charles Bradley and the Menahan Street Band take the stage. At first it’s just the band but then the “screaming eagle of soul” appears in a red sequined jacket, majestic and impassioned, awestruck by the crowd in front of him. His voice is rich and glorious, and he sings of struggle, fear, and love, love, love. “I can feel the LOVE!” he shouts, holding up his hands to make a heart. He dives into the crowd and starts hugging everyone. Eventually he returns to the stage, apologizing that he can’t hug each and every one of us. Someone says to me, “He’s been crying this whole time!” Has he? His face is shiny with sweat and tears.

We are in the presence of an icon, witnesses to one of the last men standing of an era gone by. The crowd is appreciative and so full of love for Bradley, who pours out his soul to us in exchange for our hands in the air, our cheers, our presence. It is true Sappy magic.

Photo by Patrick Callbeck

The post Diary of a Sap, Day Two appeared first on The Rover.

We arrive in Sackville, New Brunswick, to sunshine and warnings of shark attacks. First we see it on the sign of the community rink: “Sappy Fest! Shark Attack!” If we still had doubts, they were obliterated upon arrival at the main stage tent. Emblazoned across its front, in large black letters: “SAPPY FEST! SHARK ATTACK!” Sappy dreams are coming true.

The Woodshed Orchestra start the party in the tent with their mix of groovy funk and soulful spirituals, which has the audience dancing, raising hands and singing along in harmony. Daniel Romano and his band play denim-clad country blues, with Misha Bower and Julie Doiron providing haunting backup vocals. Daniel and Julie sing Down by the Weeping Willow, recalling last year’s show with Fred Squires, but here the song is strengthened by Romano’s stellar backing band.

A large crowd gathers at the front of the stage for Owen Pallett in preparation for the imminent attack. He appears with his band Les Mouches, who are jaw-droppingly good – a requisite if performing with this violin virtuoso. The drummer is especially impressive and frenetic, keeping time as Pallett plays pizzicato at lightning speed. Pallett is animated and enlivened by the audience, jumping from his synth to his violin, giggling at flubs only he can hear. This is the Dream of Win and Regine is a harbinger of the band to come, and his cover of Caribou’s Odessa shows us that he can do anything with his violin. Lewis Takes off His Shirt is the dazzling closer, with its layered violin loops, a racing tempo and a choir of Sappygoers howling, “I’m never gonna give it to you!” But we do. We give it up hard for Owen Pallett et Les Mouches, sending him offstage on a wave of applause.

At this moment the audience triples in size, and the anticipation is palpable – sweaty bodies of shrieking fans pressed together from the front of the tent to the very back. By now everyone knows: Shark Attack = Arcade Fire, playing a secret, pseudonymous show to evade contract restrictions (they played Halifax on Thursday and Moncton on Sunday, with U2).

It’s impossible to fully grasp Arcade Fire mania until you see them perform outside of Montreal. The crowd is amped. People are “dying,” “about to pee their pants,” and ready for their lives to be complete after they see these “beautiful, superior human beings” perform. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in Montreal, where the band members are friends, neighbours and/or at least regulars at your local café.

But holy hell, what a show they give to us Saps, on such a little stage. It is raw, sweaty and explosive. They open with Ready to Start, followed by a version of Laika that is filled with wild roars and high jumps and drums thrown up into the air. Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains) is a great song to dance to. Regine charms like a witch, waving coloured ribbons and casting spells over the crowd with her sparkling, gloved hands. A stray breeze wafts in during No Cars Go, as we all sing “Between the click of the light, and the start of the dream.” Exiting the tent after the encore, Wake Up, we wonder: Was it all a dream?

Photo by Patrick Callbeck

The post Diary Of A Sap, Day 1 appeared first on The Rover.

While most of the summer festivals covered on Rover happen in Montreal, there is a little festival that takes place away from our island that deserves some attention. It has a funny name and attracts a funny group people that prefer their fests small and intimate, in venues like legions and dive bars, rather than on mega-stages with Jumbotrons. Many consider it the best festival in Canada.

Chad VanGaalen once called it a “neti pot for the soul.” In actuality, it’s called SappyFest, and it wants to be your friend.

Every year for the past six years, music lovers who delight in Sappy’s community and cozy feelings flock to Sackville, New Brunswick, for a weekend of music, sandwiches, and magic. A tent that holds 2000 audience members and a beer garden is erected on Bridge Street, Sackville’s main thoroughfare, and smaller tents are pitched on lawns all over town. Sappy enthusiasts roam from the Bridge Street tent to the United Church, to the Royal Canadian Legion, to a dingy roadhouse called George’s, to the Vogue movie house, to hear renowned musicians from all over North America play their sappy little hearts out.

It’s not surprising that this little festival can pull a ton of talent to a tiny college town. Sackville is New Brunswick’s indie-culture epicenter – and home to some of Eastern Canada’s best musical acts too. Sackville sweetheart and Sappy organizer Julie Doiron runs the show, and runs all over town – playing, coordinating and MC-ing. Shotgun Jimmie is another Sackville mainstay who usually performs a couple times and then helps out with setups and teardowns during the rest of the weekend, earning the adoration of bands and attendees alike.

Musical acts from years past have included Mount Eerie, Eric’s Trip, One Hundred Dollars, The Felice Brothers and Jim Guthrie, to name only a few. Some of this year’s most exciting acts include Owen Pallett et Les Mouches, The Weakerthans’ John K. Samson and Charles Bradley. Sappy favourites Ladyhawk and The Burning Hell return after a year of absence to rip things up and splash blood on the dance floor. Chad VanGaalen is back with his dreamy indie rock, and Sappy veterans The Sadies will rouse the crowd with their polished, alt-country rock.

The Montreal contingent is as strong as ever this year. Grimes, Lil’ Andy, Hidden Words, Little Scream and Pat Jordache will represent our city’s musical eclecticism throughout the weekend. And of course, Sappy never fails to tuck a surprise or two up its sleeve. Last year, Sloan appeared on the final night to play Twice Removed from start to finish. This year, there are murmurs that the always-outstanding Shark Attack will make an appearance destined to make waves from Bridge Street to the suburbs.

Said the Gramophone’s Sean Michaels writes the festival’s daily newspaper, The Sappy Times, capturing all the big feelings, small miracles and soaring melodies that erupt from the Bridge Street tent. Michaels believes that Sappy is “one of the greatest festivals in the entire world.” He’s right. Sappy is quite possibly Canada’s best-kept musical secret.

But it’s not just about the music. It’s about the Saturday morning farmer’s market on Bridge Street where locals play bluegrass and sell muffins and tea cozies, and where you get the strongest dose of espresso in town to propel you through the day. It’s about napping on the grass. It’s about live music played to home movies in a darkened cinema. It’s about sandwiches – the best sandwiches you’ll ever have. It’s about seeing the friends you haven’t seen in a year, and making new ones.

It’s the festival you’ll never forget, and it’s the festival that won’t forget you.

SappyFest sets up camp on Bridge Street in Sackville, NB from Friday, July 29 until Sunday, July 31^st. It’s happening with or without you! http://sappyfest.com/SappyFest_11/about.html

Photo: Kirk Avery

The post Sappy Days are Here Again appeared first on The Rover.

It’s a Tuesday night in an empty bar. Two cousins, with nothing better to do and nowhere else to go, are seated at a table. One looks certifiably insane, with electric-shock hair, beady eyes, and a twitch, while the other is droopy and melancholic. They are lucky to have each other.

Tous Cousins!, playing at Lion d’Or for Montréal Complètement Cirque, does not yank the audience into a fantastic clown world – rather, it gently reveals a slow night for two foolish duds, Cousin and Couzin. Through a series of short vignettes that take place around a bar table, these two clowns amuse and annoy each other, just as cousins do, and manage to entertain their full-house audience to boot.

Their naturally red noses suggest drunkenness – or maybe just allergies. All the same, their humour is definitely of the barfly genius variety. They tell lame jokes, contemplate the chicken and the egg conundrum, and turn underwhelming tricks into impressive feats. They are proud when their simple tricks succeed, and painfully embarrassed when they fail – especially so when they require audience members to fetch runaway balls or dropped eggs.

Perhaps it was their chosen setting of the empty bar, or just the drowsy Cousin, but the show never reached the high-octane energy levels one might expect from a clown show. The performers, Sébastien Derock and Olivier Mahiant of Les Zyrgomatik, have perfectly suited physicalities to match their characters, and both use their lanky stature and social awkwardness to great effect. Their reliance on cuteness did not fail to amuse both kids and adults in the audience, but after a while, it felt tired and contrived.

Nevertheless, the show had its shining moments. The two cousins were at their best when they hopped out of the chairs and grabbed their melodicas (which seems to be the favourite instrument of circus performers these days) to engage in some competitive music making. Derock and Mahiant are excellent musicians, capable of evoking romantic, 1920s tango music from their dinky, plastic blow-organs.

The cousins compete in a way that only family can – with love, embarrassment and a relentless desire to trump the other. Their one-upmanship is impressive, especially when it’s taken to great heights (such as a sousaphone overtaking a bugle in another bout of musical rivalry).

At one point they experimented with real clown noses – it was as if they had taken a hit of speed. Five minutes of insanity ensued, and the cousins just couldn’t get enough of themselves and their antics. The madness ended abruptly when the melancholic cousin sheepishly removed his nose, apologizing, “Merci, mais, c’est peut-être un peu trop fort pour moi.”   This endearing moment revealed that not all clowns are spunky and in-your-face — there are also clowns that prefer to hang out at the back of the bar.

As they throw each other around stage, poking and prodding, teasing and taunting, they display a genuine mutual appreciation, proving what everyone in the audience knows to be true: life is better with a bon cousin.

Tous Cousins! plays its final show tonight, July 22^nd, at Lion d’Or. Montréal Complètement Cirque continues at various venues around the city until July 24^th. For more information, visit the festival’s website.

The post Rivalry and Revelry, at the Back of the Bar appeared first on The Rover.

For such a young festival, Montréal Complètement Cirque has been overwhelmingly successful in terms of this year’s programming, gathering together the most talented and innovative companies working in circus today. The ace up their sleeve this year is Le Cirque Invisible, a contemporary circus spectacular swathed in mystery, and created by two of the most enigmatic artists in the discipline, Victoria Chaplin and Jean-Baptiste Thiérrée.

Murmured conversations pertaining to the couple’s shared history floated up to the rafters of Outremont Theatre at opening night, as the audience excitedly took their seats. It’s a story worth repeating, and the program provides the basics: In Paris, 1969, 32-year-old Thiérrée saw a photograph of Victoria, age 18, in a magazine. An accompanying interview revealed her desire to run away with the circus. Star struck, Thiérrée sent her a letter, and received a reply a few days later. The two corresponded frequently until Chaplin eloped to Paris, abandoning a film role her father (Charlie, that is) had created just for her, halting the film’s production altogether. They were married at La Borde, a psychiatric hospital where Thiérrée created circus shows with the residents. From then on, they lived as circus-obsessed lovers, collaborators and recluses.

Fittingly, the first thing one notices when these artists come onstage are the crazy eyes. Thiérrée is the first to emerge, wearing a rainbow-striped suit, his white hair in a mad-scientist mess. With bulging eyes and batty comments, he performs a few sleight of hand tricks and eats a candle. He makes flowers pop up in odd places. Then the lights dim and he vanishes.

Chaplin appears next, gliding across the floor in a shining, conical gown. She too is all wild eyes and long hair. Her dance is uncanny and alluring – even more so when the strange gown takes on the shape and movement of a sea anemone, eventually swallowing her whole. Disappearing acts are one of her specialties. Pixie-like in stature and action, Chaplin seizes every opportunity to hide herself in secret pockets, hoop skirts and umbrellas, enlivening all sorts of inanimate objects.

Le Cirque Invisible continues like this, with Thiérrée and Chaplin taking turns in the spotlight to present their (mostly separate) acts. The show’s beauty and mystery is due to Chaplin, who creates the incredible costumes which transform both her and her surroundings. Through her detailed inventions, a princess gown changes to a horse, a spinning café set becomes a cart pulled by a dragon, and paper parasols evolve into an utterly convincing pair of chameleons. Her movement pieces, from the tightrope ballet to a haunting Danse Serpentine, are breathtaking. Chaplin is so poised her performance is almost meditative, yet there is a wide-eyed playfulness that shines through it all.

The cheap laughs and groans are more than taken care of by Thiérrée, who fills his half of the show with cheesy gags, kitschy costumes and puppet numbers that last too long. He clearly adores the spotlight, and there is no question that he’s having the time of his life, oblivious to the need for cohesiveness (beyond matching his costumes with his set pieces) within his part of the show.

They perform together in a handful of scenes, inviting some fluffy and feathered friends to join them as well. The bunnies are cute, but nothing beats the gaggle of geese that quack along to the couple’s disco-styled melodica musical number. Together, their playfulness is heightened and it’s easy to forget that these two are in the midst of their 60s and 70s.

The audience was quick to give a standing ovation at the finale, but little did we realize that over 20 bows would occur. Thiérrée went wild, sprinting on and off stage in a race to perform every trick he forgot to do. Chaplin did a couple cute costume changes, but relinquished most of the spotlight for her husband’s final gags.

These two are probably the looniest people working in circus, but if going circus crazy provides the opportunity to run around a stage in bizarre costumes, making magic and having the time of your life at age 70, then sign me up.

Montréal Complètement Cirque continues at various venues across the city until July 24th. For more information, visit the festival’s website

The post Having the time of their lives, their whole lives appeared first on The Rover.

Leeks and chewed carrots are flying everywhere as the Horse of Spain gallops manically across the stage, finally collapsing into a twitching heap. The jockey looks upset. So she stands on top of him. “How about that?!” they proudly exclaim in unison, toppled over but with hands raised in perfect form.

If all of this sounds like nonsense, that’s because it is. The messiest, most delightful, simplest nonsense to be found on a stage. Cirque de Légume is not spectacular circus. There are no acrobats, aerialists or tightrope walkers to be found at Lion d’Or, the venue for this Montréal Complètement Cirque show. What there is, however, is a basket of vegetables, a chair and two endearing, maladroit clowns who are eager to give their audience all they’ve got.

Cirque de Légume is Jaimie Carswell and Nancy Trotter-Landry, two Jacques LeCoq-trained clowns based in Ireland. As they tiptoe on stage at the beginning of the show, their faces reveal incredible discomfort, triggering fits of quiet giggles throughout the audience. When a baby starts cooing loudly in Spanish, their distress gets even worse. They tentatively try to amuse with a few awkward tricks – standing on one foot, bad attempts at contortion and misaligned ballet. It’s painful to watch, and terribly funny.

The show really gets rolling when they reach for their vegetable basket. These clowns love their vegetables. They believe in their vegetables. As they transform their veggies into puppets, toys and weapons, they become invigorated and, well, bonkers. A head of lettuce becomes a barking dog – it rolls over, attacks, plays dead – and when it gets pulled apart by one of the clowns, the audience screams for the poor dog’s life. Baby peppers turn into “leeetle sharp knives” and an onion is scandalously eroticized when its skin begins to slip off.

The great joy of the show comes from its imperfections. With little else besides themselves to entertain the audience, they take every opportunity to put their clownish insecurities and clumsiness on display. They dance, yell, throw food at each other, and attempt magic. Every trick that succeeds or falls flat (and flaccid, considering the props) gets an enthusiastic “How about that?!” and a display of their winning form: standing up, hands raised to the sky, huge smiles plastered on their faces. With such a show of blundering humanity, it’s hard not to fall in love with these two.

Their tricks are barely tricks, their props probably came from the fruiterie next door, and yet the audience cannot get enough of them. Falling all over the place, barking like seals and yelling “How about that!?” until they’re blue in the face…It doesn’t sound like much, but all the same it’s difficult to wipe the smile off your face and contain your laughter. One thing is for sure: you’ll never look at vegetables the same way again.

Cirque de Légume has just finished its run, but there are plenty of other shows to see at Montréal Complètement Cirque, which continues until July 24^th. For more information, visit the festival’s website.

The post Eat, Play, Love appeared first on The Rover.

Break out your red noses and leave those lingering traces of childhood coulrophobia at home – it never did you any favours anyway. Ready or not, Montreal is about to get a little clown-crazy in the next two weeks for the second edition of Montréal Complètement Cirque.

This festival is the baby of the summer fest scene, having launched only last year. Despite their relative newness, they have secured an incredible program of internationally renowned acts. Companies from Quebec, Belgium, France, Ireland and Australia are tumbling in to delight audiences with every kind of circus show imaginable.

With the likes of Cirque Eloize, Les 7 Doigts de la Main and, of course, Cirque du Soleil, Montreal is a destination for top-notch circus performance and circus education (the National Circus School, la TOHU). So it’s only fitting that these groups got together and created a festival, putting a big red dot on the city as Circus Central. And what better city than Montreal to put on a festival of performance that jubilantly tosses aside language barriers to celebrate humanity’s ability to jump, bend, sing, dance and laugh?

The diverse program, with events taking place all over town, means there is a clown for everyone. So, with great excitement, we here at Rover are donning our red noses and running away to the Circus. Join us, why don’t you?

Among the many clowns you may encounter during the festival, Rover recommends:

The Existential Clown

Patinoire, from Les 7 Doigts de la Main, is a one-man circus of misfortune and mishaps, last seen at La Chappelle this winter. Sans pancake makeup or zany costumes, Patrick Léonard returns the clown to humanity – awkward, perilous and genuine humanity.

The Seductive Clown

Also on offer from Les 7 Doigts is Le Cabaret 2011. Set in Chicago in the 1920s, this revue show features acrobatics, live music, burlesque and more from company members and special guests, all in dazzling flapper finery.

The New Age Clown

All the way from Australia is CIRCA, with their show Wunderkammer. Immersive and intense, Wunderkammer strips away the hollow spectacle of traditional circus, creating a performance that explores the physical, emotional and spiritual possibilities of the human body.

The Elusive Clown

Without a doubt, the most intriguing of all the companies presenting this year is Le Cirque Invisible, from France. Collaborators and companions for over 40 years, Jean-Baptiste Thiérrée and Victoria Chaplin (daughter of Charlie) are the shy, enigmatic pioneers of contemporary circus arts. Thiérrée delights with traditional clowning and playful puppetry, while Chaplin transforms them both with her extraordinary costumes, better than anything Lewis Carroll could ever have imagined.

The Chef Clown

Clowns crazy about produce. Clowns playing with their food. This sounds like my kind of circus. Throw your recipe book out the window. Le Cirque du Légume has better ideas for your CSA basket in what promises to be an uproarious clown food fight.

The Minimalist Clown

Belgium’s Slips Inside: No props. No words. No music. No clothes. Just clowns in their underwear, having the time of their life.

The Clown on the Cheap

The Festival offers plenty of programming for the clown whose money performs disappearing acts. Three free circus weekends – in Hochelaga Maisonneuve, St Michel and Verdun – offer family-oriented shows and workshops from clowns in training, along with performances from many of this year’s featured companies. There’s even equestrian entertainment happening at le TOHU, with Varia! by la Famille Innocenti.
Montréal Complètement Cirque at various locations around Montreal, July 7-24

For show info, please go to: www.montrealcompletementcirque.com

The post Giving Us the (Gags, Bits and) Business appeared first on The Rover.

Amongst the world-famous musicians headlining the Jazz Fest this week, there is one group taking the stage that has never before bathed in so much limelight. The attention is long overdue. The show is GRUBB, the director is theatre luminary Serge Denoncourt, and the stars are 25 underprivileged Roma youth from Serbia. Together, they have created an outstanding musical theatre show unlike any other spectacle in the Jazz Fest lineup.

Reclaiming the derogatory slur commonly used to describe the Roma, GRUBB stands for Gypsy Roma Urban Balkan Beats. The show fuses traditional Roma music with rap and pop, adds some energetic contemporary and traditional dance, and tops it off with magic and photography. Through all this, the kids tell their stories, creating a moving portrait of what it means to love, fight, dream and grow up Roma.

The show is enhanced by world class production design, including video production by Quebec’s multimedia superstars, Geodezik. Four shows  have sold out and two more have been added to the run. Suffice it to say, GRUBB is taking the Jazz Fest by storm.

The plight of the Roma people in Europe barely penetrates the Canadian consciousness. GRUBB aims to change that, turning the spotlight on this bright, talented group of youth who are regularly denied a voice, who deal with discrimination and exclusion every day.

There are more than 500,000 Roma living in Serbia. More than 70% of Serbian Roma are illiterate, and less than 0.5% have finished university. Most do not even finish primary school. Living on the periphery of society, Roma children are often denied a proper education by being placed in schools for the mentally disabled. Theatre and art classes, as well as support for creative expression in general, are hard to come by.

However, one small organization, the Serbian-based British NGO RPOINT, is working to amend this. GRUBB is a major result of their efforts, and the proceeds from the show will ensure that RPOINT’s educational and cultural programs continue. RPOINT runs a community space for Roma youth in Serbia and provides vocational training, tutoring and English lessons, along with workshops in art, music, theatre and dance. Young Roms can participate on the condition that they stay in school.

GRUBB was born three years ago, when Serge Denoncourt arrived in Belgrade to teach a one-week theatre workshop organized by RPOINT. Inspired by the kids’ enthusiasm and their strong desire to share their stories, Denoncourt was hooked. The workshop grew into a full-blown production, which came together thanks to the dedication of the kids and the commitment of the creative team to this humanitarian project.

Extremely well-connected in the theatre world, Denoncourt recruited high caliber, international artists to assist in the creation process. Canadian choreographers Nico Archambault and Wynn Holmes joined American ballet dancer Natalie Meyjes to lead dance workshops. With the assistance of Quebec music producer Francis Collard, the kids developed their voices, gaining the confidence to make music and write lyrics (in the Romani language) that reflected their experiences as Roms. Italian quick-change artist Arturo Brachetti advised on magic effects, while an incredible team of designers gave the production its spectacular edge.

GRUBB opened on June 27 at the Salle Pierre-Mercure and received numerous standing ovations. These kids are not only spinning the Jazz Fest on its head, they are singing, dancing and shouting out to seize the attention of the world and create change… “because art is a homeland to those who have none.”

GRUBB at Salle Pierre-Mercure (300 de Maisonneuve E.), June 27 to July 2 at 8 pm, and Sunday, July 3, at 2 pm

The post Montreal goes for GRUBB appeared first on The Rover.

Who wants to spend a week in the woods? The call resonates throughout Canadian culture, evoking images of isolated log cabins and tents. It’s a chance to retreat, to escape; in the woods we discover silence, stillness and serenity. But how much “woods” and how much time is actually needed?

Dwelling For Intervals is an international artist residency program that proposes resourceful and inspired answers to this question. The three-part project began humbly in 2001, as A Week in the Woods (AWITW), a few seeds in the back room of a Little Italy apartment. AWITW was a short-term residency spent with Canadian artist Yvette Poorter’s sapling collection – waifish trees planted in mismatched yogurt containers. Residents were required to stay for at least four hours, and were encouraged to leave something behind in a shoebox under the bed as evidence of their stay. As the trees grew taller, the project branched out into a travelling international residency, leaving in its wake a vast collection of artworks, impressions, and ideas, now compiled into a book by Poorter.

Opening the book is reminiscent of opening the shoebox and releasing the ghosts of residents past. Crumpled bits of typewriter poetry, quotes, sketches and watercolours, photographs, seeds, shells, paper leaves and other ephemera are spread haphazardly on every page, identified by only the name of an artist. Images and snippets of quotes from the residents often travel right off the page, which is infuriating when the remainder cannot be found on the following page. Nevertheless, the fragments of image and text create a mysterious, frank, and intriguing collage of the self-discovery and creativity that results from embracing an opportunity to retreat in nature.

A few years later, two of the original saplings were transplanted to an urban backyard in Rotterdam for part two: This Neck of the Woods (TNOTW). Here, Poorter built a modest wood cabin and declared the backyard Canadian soil. Artists were invited to camp and create in “The Canadian Wilderness of Rotterdam” – participating in a residency which was closer to an actual forest retreat than its previous incarnation. It also appears to have been a much more social experience. In addition to documenting the works produced, photographs for this section of the book reveal backyard bonfires, parties, and communal meals.

The residency went even further in its third incarnation, Knock on Woods. With a tent replica of the TNOTW cabin and numerous flags decorated with images of trees submitted by former residents, Poorter sent the project on the road. It travelled all over Canada and Europe, even stopping in Japan. Residents set up the tent and used the tree flags to stake a temporary claim over a geographic site, engaging with the land, its inhabitants, and passers-by. Although this part of the residency produced the most varied and exciting experiences for the artists, the book continues to rely on its scrapbook format, visually intriguing but frustratingly uninformative to a reader unconnected to the project.

It is unfortunate that the project, which engaged so many people around the world, is so inaccessible in its published form. Photographs take precedence over text, and while this is a useful medium to document paintings, drawings, and even sculpture; not every artist is a painter or sculptor. It is almost impossible to grasp what occurred during conceptual interventions and happenings within the back room of the apartment, the cabin, or the tent.

The exception is the book’s three illuminating essays. Jennifer Gabrys, writing about expanded territories and the spatial practice of Para-Sites, and former AWITW residents Joni Murphy and Vince Tinguely’s accounts of time spent with trees, ghosts, and dreams in a small white room elucidate the residency experience for the uninformed. Murphy writes, “[AWITW is] a monastic hotel room for the overworked wanderer, an unfolding origami gallery; it’s a dream room for Estragon and Vladimir. It’s all these things and more, which make it difficult to talk about.”

Perhaps, to get in on the magic, we need to plant our own saplings and see what happens. Or at the very least, Poorter could try a different approach in documenting her next residency program.

Megan is an actor, writer, and theatre maker in Montreal. This summer, she is diving into the Montreal festival scene for Rover’s Festival City.

The post Pandora’s Forest appeared first on The Rover.

The curtain rises on nine businessmen, standing still on a raked stage. Then, you notice the heels. Suddenly, you wonder: businessmen?

Teetering down the stage of the Monument National is transsexual theatre artist Vanessa Van Durme, the hostess of the Gardenia Cabaret. She stands at the mic and delivers a husky, sonorous version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Stoically, she sings an anthem for the end of an era. Tonight, she announces, is the final performance at Gardenia, closing after 40 years, so we must stand and observe a minute of silence. The entire audience obliges.

Gathered together by Van Durme, Gardenia brings seven transsexuals and transvestites to the stage, all between the ages of 55 and 65.  They share their stories through dance, theatre, cabaret, and a heavy dose of sequins. The creators, Alain Platel and Frank Van Laecke emphasize, “Gardenia is not a work of fiction. Gardenia is…the most intimate of tales.” With a female actress and a male dancer rounding out the cast, the show explores identity, transformation, loss, and aging with humour and unexpected grace.

Van Duren introduces us to the evening’s performers, who come one by one to stand at her side. Beaming, they all raise their hands to acknowledge a thunderous applause that resounds only in their minds. No one is clapping. They drop their arms, and abruptly, each one becomes decrepit, shuffling around the bare stage with hunched backs and shaking hands.

Their stiff and heavy movement shifts imperceptibly into a delicate, playful dance, punctuated by a series of tableaux that freeze the cast in various states of undress and coquetry. As the business attire falls to the floor, revealing flowery dresses hidden beneath their dress shirts and trousers, an odd family portrait comes into focus. As witnesses to their love, hostility, and constant vying for attention, the audience is wrapped up into the world of the Cabaret. We have taken pleasure in their performances for so many years; in turn, they have fed off our attention and support.  Now, we are leaving them. Emotions are raw, but they will be victorious and proud, one last time. “Forever Young” blasts through the sound system, and they dance.

The space transforms into a “backstage” dressing room and “onstage” catwalk. The performers take turns primping and prepping at a vanity, presenting themselves to us at each stage of readiness. When a performer steps up to a microphone and croons a Spanish love song, it is surprising that no one applauds at the end, considering the relationship that the performers have cultivated with the audience. When the performers present their finished, feminine selves and a Liza Minnelli look-alike appears, the applause finally comes.

In their full glory, they dance again – a dance that never reaches true gracefulness, a dance that reveals clumsiness, imperfection and a lot of love. This is the secret to Gardenia: the revelation that simple, unadorned movement and action (the acts of dressing and undressing, of fighting, of sitting) combined with heartfelt sincerity and self-acceptance is absolutely captivating to watch.

Therefore, when the nine performers end the show seated in a line to reprise “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”, their voices in slow crescendo, their colourful dresses shimmering in the light, it is enough.  Our artists have delivered their final performance to us, with all their hearts.

Gardenia plays until June 4 at the Monument National, as part of the Festival TransAmériques. For more information, visit the festival’s website: http://www.fta.qc.ca

The post Aging Gracefully, in Sequins and Heels appeared first on The Rover.

“Let’s do some culture!” announces Moonshits McGee, tonight’s “vaudevillian” host for the second evening of the Montreal Sketch Comedy Fest at Théâtre Ste-Catherine. Moonshits, wearing duct-taped glasses and an ill-fitting, scarlet tuxedo is most excited about the “eclectism” of the acts, and is bringing his “A-Material” in honour of the night. Moonshits (aka Alain Merceica, Sketch Fest coordinator), kicks and pumps his fists enthusiastically after every joke, and calls up his gal, Poodle, onstage to sing her songs about the moon and about his love for her, which is stronger than his love for cheese. Together, Moonshits and his co-host Pénélope Desjardins, a fashionable and prim patron of the arts, guide the audience through an evening of diverse comedic acts.

Featured this evening is Jake Freekin’ Smith, of Lakes of Canada, who blends his sweet, soft falsetto and ukulele finger-picking with lyrics about three-legged, pot-smoking cats, zombies, the hot girls at his synagogue, and why NASA should hire him for time travel investigations. The songs range from cute and clever to uproariously inappropriate – and Jake has the audience moaning (Zombie moaning, that is) in appreciation. Especially enjoyable is “Hold On,” a song that riffs on those awkward concert moments when a musician keeps pausing the set to tune a guitar, and “Totally Unnecessary”, which demonstrates a fantastic way to end a musical comedy set: strumming forceful ukulele chords while staring at the audience with a facial expression that just keeps getting weirder.

Rodney Ramsey takes the stage to premiere two video scenes from The Flip Side, an up-and-coming web series.  The scenes both feature Ramsey; first as a gun-toting, socially awkward hoodlum, and then as a Habs fan threatened by a cheerfully unaware Leafs fan. Rounding out the evening is Les Chroniques d’Outremont, a French sketch about the inexperienced and amusingly inept cops of Outremont, who target semi-innocent old ladies in search of a crime. The sketch ran a little long, but otherwise targeted a subject and a neighbourhood that sometimes seems to be begging for some light mockery.

Moonshits McGee and Pénélope Desjardins finish the night off with a test run of a new festival idea, the Montreal Sketch Drama Festival, and a short audience survey of “spring friskies.” Hopefully, these delightful hosts will make a re-appearance at Théâtre Ste-Catherine this week, at the very least for Saturday’s Best of the Fest events.

Wednesday evening is the third night of the Montreal Sketch Comedy Fest, featuring two out of town acts, Skit Skit, from Saskatoon, and Toronto’s Trio of One. Challenging them will be locals Les Guerriers de Montréal, in what promises to be another night of laughter and sketchy business.

For lineup, tickets and more information on the Montreal Sketch Comedy Festival, which continues until Saturday, visit their website: http://www.theatrestecatherine.com/mtlsketchfest/lineup.html

The post Three-Legged Cats and Spring Friskies appeared first on The Rover.

This week, Rover officially kicks off Festival City, and it’s happening with a big serving of silly. From now until August, Festival City will provide extensive coverage of Montreal’s rich summer festival scene. With reviews, artist interviews, and Rover’s top festival picks, Rover will be a source of information and great writing on Festivals. We want you to join in on the fun, and to comment on Rover to tell us about your Festival experience. So get out there, see a comedy show, an art exhibit, a concert, a play, or even have a beer – Montreal and Festival City have it covered.

If the rain has got you down, one thing that will surely slap a grin on your face is the Montreal Sketch Comedy Festival, back for its sixth edition this week at Théâtre Ste. Catherine. As three Sketch Fest ‘Public Service Announcements’ reveal, Festival organizers and Match Made in Hell troupe Alain Merceica, Lise Vigneault and Léa Rondot have been working very, very hard to make this the best fest yet. Who knew that afternoon strolls, sexy musicians, and hosers could provide so much inspiration?

With over twenty different comedy acts from Montreal, Toronto, New York City and even Saskatoon, each evening offers many reasons to guffaw, cringe or belly laugh. Expect improv, scripted comedy, musical comedy, video skits and film screenings, and of course, the Best of the Fest awards night on Saturday, May 21^st. Opening the Festival tonight are Montreal’s Wyld Stallyns and Match Made in Hell, along with Vest of Friends, from Toronto.

On Tuesday, Lakes of Canada musicians Jake Freekin’ Smith and Conor O’Neil take their hilarious, comedic songwriting to the stage – we hope they do sing-a-longs, cause their stuff is catchy. For those looking to squeeze as much comedy into their weekend as possible, from Thursday to Saturday there are early and late-night shows, and tickets are quite affordable.

Be sure to check back on Rover this week to read more Festival City coverage of Sketch Fest.

For more information and tickets to this week’s events at Théâtre Ste-Catherine, visit: http://www.theatrestecatherine.com/mtlsketchfest/lineup.html

The post Sketch the Town Silly appeared first on The Rover.

David Sedaris strides confidently onstage, stands at the podium, and begins to tell a story about a cat and a baboon. His small, lilting voice matches his stature and his unassuming air. The cat goes to a hair salon and experiences the utter monotony and discomfort of having to interact with the baboon hairstylist, with whom she has absolutely nothing in common.

The animals suffer through the necessary small talk and gossip, grasping at threads in an attempt to relate and ease the pain. By twisting this familiar experience into absurdity, Sedaris pulls the audience into the palm of his hand. At the final punch line (which involves, nicely put, a cat’s intimate grooming rituals), a warm wave of laughter rolls through the Théâtre Maisonneuve.

The theatre is almost full. The audience is young, hip, and almost exclusively Anglo. I’m sitting in the uppermost row of the balcony with two friends – one is an Anglophone who adores the American author, the other a Francophone who asked me before entering the theatre, “So, who is this guy?”

My Sedaris appreciation falls somewhere in between. The author’s collections of personal essays and stories, including Me Talk Pretty One Day, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, and Naked, are frequently shared amongst my family. We take great pleasure in chuckling over anecdotes of the Sedaris family misadventures and their resulting insecurities, at the same time breathing a collective sigh of relief: “At least we’re not that crazy.”

Sedaris read three stories during the evening before launching into short excerpts from his tour diary, including a series of jokes collected from people he met along the way. The audience was in stitches. Sedaris admits his observations are often petty and judgmental, but he has the charm of the underdog, clever and cynical.

Reading from “Memory Laps”, Sedaris recalls his dreaded summers spent on the country club junior swim team. While his disinterested mother sunbathed poolside, his father vocally wished that the star athlete of the swim team were his son. Sedaris describes his nine-year-old self splashing through a race for his audience: “It occurred to me that one of us would have to lose. I could do that for these people.”

Sedaris’ stories take on everything from tough-love parenting and the endlessly entertaining game of sibling torture, to American travel wear, excess, and waiting in line for Starbucks. His gestures and facial expressions are understated; his vocal impressions of the people he encounters in his travels are subtle and effortless. For the animal encounter from his newest book, Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk: A Modest Bestiary, his delivery was utterly convincing. Of course the baboon would have a nasally drawl, and the cat a posh reserve.

Though some expressed doubt about the merit of booking a 1441-seat theatre for a literary event, Sedaris’ promoters were definitely on to something. Their target audience came out in full-force, and even if most of them were Anglo fans, the uninitiated were hardly uninterested. His stories, brimming with the tedium and foolishness of everyday life, paired with his acerbic wit and love of a good joke, made everyone appreciate the richness and humour that exists in even the dullest of days.

David Sedaris’ new book, Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk: A Modest Bestiary, is now available in bookstores.

Megan Stewart is an actor, writer and theatre-maker in Montreal. This summer, she is bringing Festival City to Rover, providing in-depth coverage of Montreal’s summer festival scene.

The post Underdog Charm And Crazy Animal Rites appeared first on The Rover.

Wine-soaked summer nights on a Plateau balcony, strangers brought together by snowstorms, the sidewalk ballet of attractive and eccentric, graceful and occasionally unruly characters – Jimmy Beaulieu lovingly renders these fragments of Montreal life in pencil and ink on the pages of his newest graphic novel, Suddenly Something Happened.

Beaulieu’s book is autobiographical, and his story is a familiar one.  Jimmy, a young artist, moves to Montreal, dreaming of the bohemian life: beautiful people, cheap rents and the chance to really focus on art. The novelty lies in watching the story unfold through Beaulieu’s excited scratches and shades of graphite, forming images that speak more expressively than the text itself. Within a few frames of leaving stagnant Quebec City in a broken down van and arriving in hip, cosmopolitan Montreal, Jimmy is immersed in frenzied city life. He undergoes the endurance test of dragging his mattress up five flights of stairs in suffocating summer heat, discovers 99-cent pizza and is drawn to the city’s beautiful, flirtatious, and unavailable women, who threaten to hold him in a perpetual state of artist’s block. The variously sized, unframed sketches of Act One jump from one distraction to the next, overwhelming our hero, whose head is pictorially addled with steam clouds, lightning bolts, stars and question marks. When Jimmy sits down to draw, his imagination is filled with naked women writhing like snakes through his brain.

Beaulieu has two beloved subjects – his women and his city. He draws both with fine detail, in all their curvy, angular, and architectural glory. His generous cityscapes capture the historic romance of Quebec City, the apocalyptic concrete jungle of turn-of-the-millennium Montreal, and eventually, the charming tranquility he finds in the Plateau, Mile-End, and at the top of Mont-Royal.

Much of the narrative of Suddenly Something Happens centres on Jimmy’s persistent search for requited love from the many women in his life, all of whom perceive him as a friend, not a lover. He sorrowfully admits in Act One, “I’m unable to have a real relationship, so I spend my days drawing pretty girls.” Jimmy finds momentary respite from his painful solitude in this activity. Accordingly, Beaulieu fills his book with delicately drawn, attractive women, all capable of soothing or seducing Jimmy.  Depictions of Jimmy, by contrast, are scribbled, lumpy and rough – a visual manifestation of his lack of self-confidence and self-love.

Relief arrives at the end of Act One, both for Jimmy and for the reader, who is likely beginning to tire of this one-man lonely hearts club.  Finally, the perfect, available girl wanders into Jimmy’s life, ending his 3,000-plus days of celibacy. Act Two feels like a refreshing new beginning, and Beaulieu takes the opportunity to reflect on things beyond his love life. Nostalgia kicks in, and in quick succession Beaulieu’s fragmented memories of growing up in a pure-laine Québécois family on the Île d’Orléans are revealed.  Shifting the visual perspective to that of a small boy, Beaulieu displays the insularity of his community, his youthful fascination with comic books, his parents’ unstable marriage, and the sweet and sorry roots of Jimmy’s neediness and “knack for playing the victim.”

Beaulieu makes no attempt to hide his flaws of character. Unfortunately, the author’s admission of his faults does not make them any easier for the reader to endure. As soon as Jimmy finds love, old-fogey mode settles in, complete with cantankerousness and disdain of youth. His preachy, crotchety attitude is exaggerated in a self-deprecating manner, though not always to successful comedic effect. Problems arise when the written text (usually complaints about noisy neighbours, hipster culture, late-night TV, lack of sleep, the city of Montreal) overwhelms the image.

Suddenly Something Happens is, for the most part, an enjoyable read. Montrealers will appreciate Beaulieu’s knack for capturing the city at its worst and at its best. Jimmy, too, is presented without much of a filter, though the overload of complaints from our hero is thankfully offset by delightful excerpts on the balconies of Montreal, the euphoria of springtime, and the benevolence of strangers. Both city and character are far from flawless, though both offer something to be loved.

Megan Stewart is an actor, writer and theatre maker in Montreal. She is also happily employed as Rover’s do-everything intern.

The post Fragments of Montreal Life, Lovingly Rendered appeared first on The Rover.

I questioned what was driving me to go see The Silicone Diaries at Théâtre La Chapelle recently. An extreme curiosity about the experience of a transsexual woman? A shameless desire to witness the freaky and possibly grotesque? A hankering for the tell-all confessions often found in one-person shows?

These motivations made me uncomfortable. Yet I knew Nina Arsenault’s latest theatrical endeavour, chronicling her silicone-laden transformation from a maladroit man to a stunning beauty queen, produced by Toronto’s Buddies in Bad Times Theatre, would challenge my presumptions and expectations. I was not disappointed.

ORLAN, a French performance artist, has made a name for herself by subjecting her body to countless plastic surgeries which double as performances, demonstrating the unattainability of male-constructed beauty ideals. These days, she sports a chin modelled after Botticelli’s Venus, lips like François Boucher’s Europa and the forehead and protruding eyebrows of the Mona Lisa (which actually resemble a pair of bulging horns).

Arsenault’s performative surgical work, in contrast, strives toward a different ideal of beauty, one that she (arguably) constructs entirely herself. Onstage at Théâtre La Chapelle, a projected title flickers onto the set’s white backdrop. It announces, I am my own self-portrait, as the silicone-worshipping Arsenault describes her process of “getting artistic with my body”. In a quest to fashion an exterior self that corresponded with her interior perception of herself, Arsenault became a sculptor of sorts – with her body as her raw material.

From the moment Arsenault glides up onto her ultra-modern, gleaming white set, she captivates the audience, visually and verbally. She is a compelling performer and a bombshell to boot: big lips, high cheekbones, sculpted silicone breasts and hips. A long, blonde wig swoops dramatically over one eye, which remains hidden from view until finally she tosses her hair on the floor and exposes her painted face and naked skull. Tall and lithe, she slinks around the stage with coquettish flicks and brazen gestures, encased in a translucent plastic mini-dress that crinkles and snaps at her touch.

The production’s design complements her aesthetic. Arsenault’s space is a white, plastic and ultra-modern stage, complete with a light-up, disco-style floor. The lighting works with Arsenault’s body and objet d’art, creating long shadows that rise up against the backdrop, taking her impressive figure to epic proportions. Sometimes there is only one shadow; sometimes there are three, reminding us of the instability of the self, its projected, inconsistent, and deceptive nature. The spotlights and colour washes are occasionally replaced with a bright, clinical glare that exposes Arsenault as vulnerable, her beauty as suspicious.

Arsenault guides us through her life’s various stages of realization, starting as small boy who discovers the flawless beauty of a Zellers mannequin and the gauzy imagery of soft-core porn. A thought registers with this boy as he gapes at these idealistic depictions of women: Someday, somehow, he will grow up and embody such an image. Later, as numerous plastic surgeries accumulate under her belt, Arsenault recognizes the points when she looked most like a real woman, most like a mannequin, and most like her ideal perception of her self.

Arsenault treats her body as an object, an image, and a machine, but eventually she reaches her most powerful realization: her mortality. With her inner self at one with her exterior body, Arsenault accepts aging and death: She recognizes her humanity, despite all the plastic.

Arsenault’s text and delivery moves effortlessly from sharp, wicked and deadpan to disarmingly heartfelt and poignant. Her stories are never talk-show confessional; they are controlled, upfront and unapologetic. Her pursuit of beauty and the reconciliation of the interior and exterior selves took her on a unique journey, but it nevertheless reflects a struggle faced by many, whether silicone-worshippers or not.

Too late to catch The Silicone Diaries at Théâtre La Chapelle but you can do so at this summer’s Magnetic North Theatre Festival in Ottawa. Théâtre La Chapelle’s exciting multidisciplinary season continues in January, check out their website for more info.

The post Self-Construction: Artifice And Art appeared first on The Rover.