Yup, the rush is on to declare the next big thing, and at least according to Spin, Montreal's it, taking its turn beside Seattle, Halifax, Charlotte, N.C., Athens, Ga., Williamsburg, NYC and others that have provided the music world with a geographically locatable place to point their iPods.
Hopefully titled "The Next Big Scene: Montreal," along with the subheading "No really - Canada is now officially cool" (too bad the same can't be said for their country), the February issue is on stands now. It makes a reasonable case - in the absence of any Nirvanas or Pearl Jams - for some kind of small-scale revolution in sound, though this has been greeted with that very Montreal mix of indifference and bemusement. We're unaccustomed to the attention... and in typical fashion, more than a little suspicious too.
That said, I've got to hand it to Spin writer Rodrigo Perez, whose byline may also be found on music news pieces for MTV.com. He performs a nearly impossible trick by getting it almost all right, and by all right, I mean about 40 per cent right. Because that other 60 per cent piece of the music pie here in Montreal - the francophone slice - is mysteriously missing. Funny how that always seems to happen.
On the other hand, perhaps it's best that foreign rock writers not attempt to negotiate the rapids separating our cultural shores. Case in point: Perez attributes the success of our indie scene to the "no" side in the 1995 referendum.
Um, no. But give him points for trying. At exactly that time, 10 years ago, I was asked to write a story about Montreal's thriving indie scene, not unlike his Montreal profile in Spin, for competing American music mag Alternative Press. The only difference between us is that I had the decided advantage of actually living and playing music here.
Bands like Goldfish, Stellar Dweller, Tinker, Slaves On Dope, The Snitches, The Local Rabbits, GrimSkunk, Atomik Folk, Groovy Aardvark and even a small upstart punk band called Reset (members of which would later go on to form Simple Plan) are all cited as going on to slowly usurp the places of a previous, equally dynamic generation of local players who thrived through the late '80s and early '90s: Me, Mom & Morgentaler, Doughboys, The Nils, Asexuals, Three O'Clock Train, Bootsauce, Déjà Voodoo, The Gruesomes and more.
I would argue that, in keeping with the regular ebb and flow that has characterized Montreal music over the last decade and a half, things are not significantly different now than they were at any point in the interim. There have always been good bands in Montreal. Superior bands.
Credit where credit is due, the Spin piece actually does a pretty decent job of characterizing the current buzz bands. You know the names: Sam Roberts, godspeed you! black emperor, The Dears, Stars, The Stills, The Arcade Fire, Melissa Auf der Maur, Unicorns, Kid Koala, A-Trak, Akufen and then others of more dubious merit. Notably missing from the Spin list were Rufus Wainwright and five million albums-selling Simple Plan, likely on the grounds that you're not allowed to be part of the scene if you can afford to buy the scene.
All in all a fairly accurate summation of the, mostly, anglo side of things, though word to the wise: Don't go trying to find your way around using the illustrated map that accompanies the bar and club profiles. They've got Club Soda in Cleopatra, Bifteck in Pistol, Pistol in the bank across the street, O Patro Vys in the Pharmaprix at St-Laurent and Mont-Royal and L'Hémisphère Gauche in the fountain in Carré St-Louis... for starters.
But Spin grasps the nut of the construct here, that being part of the artistic scene is akin to falling prey to a boa constrictor - the more people struggle, the tighter it becomes. It's a universal observation, just as it's an observation that, no matter how many music magazines declare Montreal to be the indie listener's destination of choice, it's unlikely that our local bands will ever reap massive cash rewards for the distinction. Auf der Maur makes an excellent point when she says, "It's not like L.A., New York or Chicago where there's money to be made. You struggle, and in exchange, you get that rich cultural chaos that breeds good art."
And she makes an even better point when, later in the piece, she remarks, "The hottest women in the world are French Canadians." That is the gospel truth - no argument here. Then, in a bit of elastic factuality her dear dad would have been proud of (here's to you, Nick!), adds by way of explanation, "The French sent over prostitutes way back when to breed, and they started mixing with the native Indians."
And all along I'd thought it was the shopping.
But theorizing, especially the oversimplified variety, has a popular place in the imaginations of Montrealers. Maybe because historic cultural divisions have knitted many questions into the social fabric here, none with any easy answers. This extends to our musical communities, that elusive paradigm or condition or creative by-product we call a "scene."
Is there a Montreal sound? That's an easy one - no. Unless it's to say that Montreal's sound is the sound of diversity, which is just lame, so we'll stick with no.
But the big question, and the hardest to answer, is of the chicken and egg variety: Are Montreal bands being recognized because there is a thriving scene - lots of small indie labels, places to play and fans willing to forego the price of a beer for admission - that nourishes and develops them? Or have the writing, recording and touring efforts (a huge part of Montreal's success has been a scene-wide acknowledgement of the necessity of recording and especially touring) of so many young bands at the same time built up the necessary Montreal branding, a momentum of recognition, to compel the attentions of latent local music fans? I'll die before I ever know the answer to that.
Still, healthy music scenes don't just magically appear (though they can magically disappear), nor do the bands that define them. The level of effort and dedication usually exceeds the average human being's ability to cope, hence the very high level of band and musician attrition. Only a few are gifted, stupid and/or desperate enough to go the distance. Take The Dears, for instance, founded and fronted by Murray Lightburn.
My first Montreal band, Shine, played shows with Murray's band Wren at the time, as far back as 1991. Murray's been kickin' it a long time (if you think he's got a Brit-pop fixation now, you should have known him then), and deserves every bit of success that comes his way. And he's not alone. Sam Roberts' overnight success made for one hell of a long night (Sam, of course, being no stranger to long nights).
Getting your band known is a bit like trying to crack a safe from the inside: a lot of things have to come into alignment before the door will open, and you're not the one spinning the wheels. So while nobody playing music in town needs or requires the validation of a Spin-type profile, it certainly doesn't hurt.
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