To strike a

Tuning in to music’s shared in Montreal

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And Designed

wave, experimental, and so many others.

All these different genres, despite their diverse array of affect, pacing, and melody, shared something else in common: They allowed me to close my eyes, tune out to the melodies, each with a different vibe, and envision I could be somewhere else, past or future. Across beats, music revealed sentiments that couldn’t be surfaced by anything else. Whether it reminded me of years gone by and people I would never see again, or held the promise of memories to come and experiences not yet lived, I found music to be a tether to the nostalgic past, ever-moving present, and dreamy future. Music could articulate what words were unable to, process experiences and move forward, whilst simultaneously being an anchor to return to the past through different lenses.

Jess Rosa, lead singer and ukulele player for their New York-based punk band, JessX, can relate to the complex affective response that music evokes.

“Even without lyrics […] being able to express a feeling through […] a chord and even just strumming is so beautiful,” Jess told me.

by: Drea Garcia

to certain songs. Sonder, melancholy, nostalgia? But no matter how much I search in any language, I can never seem to find the right word to describe what I’m experiencing.

It’s the feeling under your left rib and in the middle of your sternum when you hear road trip music, the stereo playing songs that feel like fleece and firewood smoke with campfire warmth against your blankets. Akin to taking photos of your friends, you click the shutter button and come to recognize that good things are finite. Like a fleeting memory or a photograph, a song engulfs you wholly and completely for an instant in an enigma of potent, bursting emotion. But, unlike viewing a photograph from a distance, listening to music is more of an embodied means of reaching through to the past. I’d venture that music is perhaps the nearest embodiment of memory that exists.

[…] and I think that’s […] the beautiful thing about music.”

During the most difficult days, I found that the experiences most worth living for were simple, mundane even, but always involved music in one way or another: A sunset walk with headphones on, a sunrise car ride with music on the AUX, or even the drunk walks home from friends’ places, during which I would hear a different rhythm emanating from each passing nightlife venue.

While language attempts to reduce emotions to singular notes, music can capture their full nuance and complexity. I have tried to identify obscure synonyms for the feelings that arise when listening said Vee Nicole, drummer for NERiMA.

My experience in Montreal mirrors the feeling of listening to music. These years coming of age in university feel both eternal yet transient, like both an era and an instant. The endless Canadian winter and the monotonous daily ritual of university encapsulate the majority of the time I’ve had, but I realize I’ll see this time differently upon reflection. The scattered, sparkling moments of seeing magic in mundanity, the ephemeral hours spent with friends, and the exhilarating headrush of running past loud venues: These are the moments that will prevail in my recollection.

I found I was not alone in being drawn to the city. I felt a tug to the art, the culture, self-discovery, along with the promise of new experiences. I yearned to acquaint myself with my own individuality, while making space to discover my own community.

Drawn by the siren song of open door bar concerts and music-lovers moshing, alt-indie rock band, NERiMA from Toronto, also followed this creative calling to Montreal. Last year in July, they played a show at Blue Dog, a bar on St. Laurent that frequently hosts local musicians.

They found the process of booking venues and playing shows to be more accessible here than in Toronto, where the music scene can be next to impenetrable for newer artists.

“It’s hard to break your way in,”