JUG PERFORMING ON JUNE 29 AT THE ROYAL
JAMBOREE PERFORMING ON JUNE 29 AT THE ROYAL ALBERT ARMS
BY SERAPHINE CROW
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LOUIS (He/Him) a multi disciplinary artist living on Treaty One Territory. His current focus lives between textile, photography, and printmaking, with an interest for practicing all three simultaneously. Through time spent in the garment industry Louis’ practice was shaped from a desire to create from waste, not create more.
Bradi Breckman
Mike Thiessen
Seraphine Crow
Kim Wiesner Liam Walkler Mykhailo Vil’yamson maggie astrid clark
Paul Little
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*** Mitchell Makoons trio Sep 5 at Park Alleys *** Mattmac Sep 12 at the Park Theatre *** Romi Mays Sep 12 at Blue Note *** Keith and Renee Sep 12 at WECC *** Honest Faces Sep 14 at Park Alleys *** Wolf Willow Sep 14 at Blue Note *** *** Jus D’Orange Sep 19 at Blue Note *** Tired Cossack Sep 20 at Blue Note Park *** Zackery with An Unexpected End Sep 21 at
The Handsome Daughter *** Xana Sep 24 at WECC *** Sunbreather Sep 27 at Times Change(d) *** Prairie Joggers Oct 5 at Times Change(d) *** Terra Lightfoot Oct 8 at WECC *** Ritchot Textiles Oct 11 at Darling Bar *** Rich Aucoin Oct 12 at Sidestage *** The Once Oct 15 at WECC *** Meisha and the Spanks Oct 18 at WECC *** Julian Taylor Oct 22 at WECC *** Annaxis
Oct 24 at Sidestage *** Lizards with Poison Suckers and Blond Goth Oct 26 at Times Change(d) *** Tinge Nov 9 at Sidestage ***
*** Mayland Music Festival Sep 7 *** Harvest Moon Festival Sep 1315 in Clearwater, MB *** Funk Fest Oct 3-4 at the Park Theatre ***
If—as Phil Elverum sang during his performance of an unreleased Mount Eerie song at the West End Cultural Centre (WECC) on June 26—recorded music is a “statue of a waterfall,” then concert reviews are poems about a blurry photograph of said statue. Words cannot capture the experience of a sound, let alone reconstruct a memory that is already fading from the mind.
But this isn’t a review of that concert. I’m here to talk about a different concert that took place at the WECC earlier in the month: “Pulse,” the Cluster Festival show featuring Debashis Sinha, Jason Tait, and Compost. I do not know exactly why the festival organizers felt inspired to group these acts together on the same bill, but I’m glad they did. It made for an entertaining and eclectic set of tunes.
The evening began with the festival’s artistic director Ash Au introducing all three upfront and closing with a plea. “The world’s burning,” Au said before encouraging the audience to take the energy we received from the
night’s music and put it back into the community. I couldn’t quite envision what they meant by this—and, moreover, it’s always been difficult for me to discern where my energies are best spent—but it was a lovely sentiment nonetheless.
Up first was Debashis Sinha, an electronic composer from Toronto. He played a quadrophonic drone composition which I seem to recall Au telling us was untitled but which the program pamphlet I received referred to as “Rückstreuung.” (This is part of the reason I opened the review with a reference to that Mount Eerie lyric. I am writing about this concert a month-and-a-half after the fact, so my recollection’s a bit hazy at this point. Unless you were there and remember otherwise, you’ll just have to take my word for it!)
In describing the piece, Sinha noted that the “physics of the sound” change depending on where you were in the auditorium; it apparently sounded different to each person. He invited us to sway, to get up and walk around,
as the drone itself was—by his own admission—“not very dynamic.” As he began his performance, the screens behind him displayed swirling, grey plumes of smoke that seemed to move slightly but which very well could have been an optical illusion. I’m once again uncertain, but it seemed thematically appropriate.
I now offer you a series of descriptions of the sounds that I believe I heard over the course of Sinha’s approximately 20-minute performance: an aluminum can being kicked around on a tiled floor, a metallic whir, 2-by-4s clanking together, the static hiss of a record spinning in its groove, a shaving razor, wind flapping a chain around a pole, creaking wooden planks. When someone opened the door—to go out for a smoke or to buy a beer or to use the restroom, I can’t say—it too became part of the piece.
As I shifted my head from side to side, leaning across the empty seats next to me, I could detect slight variations in tone and texture. Perhaps these might’ve been more pronounced if I
had stood up and walked around, but I was comfortable where I was seated and didn’t feel like moving. I guess I’ll never know what the piece might have sounded like from a different vantage point. I’ll have to live with that lack of knowledge for the rest of my life.
Once the drone had concluded, Sinha rubbed his hands together and said, “Thank you, everyone,” to which I felt like responding: “No, man, thank you! All I did was sit here.”
Second, on the docket was Jason Tait. I was curious to see what his performance would entail, as I was previously familiar with him as the drummer of a little-known local outfit called The Weakerthans. Would it be an extended percussive arrangement, Steve Reich-style? Apparently not! Tait’s offering was instead a semiimprovised modular synth piece. It was syncopated, polyrhythmic, and fun, so I had a grand old time. Unfortunately, I don’t know how else to describe the composition beyond an appeal to the concepts of “bleep” and “bloop.”
After the performance, I ran into a friend of mine who explained to me and my partner what a “modular synth” even was, which helped immensely. It’s one of those terms I’d been aware of for many years but, for whatever reason, hadn’t felt inclined to Google. And now I don’t have to!
Tait left the stage area without a word and made way for Compost, a threepiece instrumental jazz trio. According to the Cluster Festival program, the band takes influence
from “90s beat makers and European electronic music, cycling between movement and meditation,” but I would describe them—perhaps reductively—as “Winnipeg’s answer to BadBadNotGood.” They, too, devoted their allotted time to the performance of a single piece titled “Decomposed.” The drums, bass, and electric piano were accompanied by spoken word sections and a time-lapsed video projection of unfurling stalks, growing
seeds, and pulsating yellow fungus.
To accommodate the video display, the WECC killed the lights—a choice that made perfect sense in context but which had the unfortunate side-effect of making it hard for me to scribble in my little notebook. One phrase in particular rang out to me, however. “There are no words for anything.”
BRADI BRECKMAN
On the second day of the 49th annual Winnipeg Folk Festival, Snowberry Field in Birds Hill Park was packed with festivalgoers braving the afternoon heat. Why? To see Noah Reid, of course. Having come to fame through his role in the hit comedy show Schitts Creek, Reid is now making his name as a musician. The Ontariobased singer/songwriter drew a crowd on his first-ever visit to Winnipeg as the temperature climbed to 30°, and the anticipation grew.
Noah Reid opened his set with a song from his album Adjustments, titled “Statue’s in Stone.” The artist sang and played the piano, backed up by a guitarist, bassist, keyboardist, and drummer.Reid’s melodic voice projected out of the speakers, and his thoughtful lyrics came through clearly— until they stopped altogether. After only a few songs, Reid’s microphone cut out, leaving the perplexed crowd with only instrumentals. He yelled, “Just listen to the music!” at the crowd, and the band instantly took up a song, effortlessly providing an impromptu musical interlude. While the much-appreciated tech team worked on fixing the issue, Reid stalled with style, taking selfies and chatting with the first row of festivalgoers. Most of the crowd stayed put throughout the interruption— a testament to Reid’s appeal— and the show was up and running again in no time.
Noah Reid returned from the brief
interruption with the soulful tune “Underwater.” The performance was personal and intimate, and Reid used the song to draw the audience closer to him emotionally. Then, once he’d lulled them into expecting slow indiefolk music for the rest of the show, he blindsided the crowd with the neverbefore performed “Still Don’t Know.” The twangy Rock’n’roll song from Reid’s first official album, Songs from a Broken Chair, filled the crowd with a new, excited energy. The piece featured some heavier and more prominent drum sections that propelled it the whole way through.
Shortly after, Reid switched gears again, introducing a cover as not only something off his newest EP, T is for Tillerson, but one he performed on television. A few fans may have been expecting his hit from Schitts Creek, but Reid had sworn off performing that at the festival and instead paid tribute to his newer television show Outer Range. Guitar in arms, he played the opening chords to Poison’s “Every Rose Has Its Thorn ‘’. Reid gave the ‘80s rock song a country feel and even broke out his harmonica to complete his cowboy image. Later in the set, Reid performed a second song from the TV show and EP: a cover of “Save the Best for Last” by ‘90s pop singer and actress Vanessa Williams.
After his Poison cover, Noah Reid spoke briefly about his period in Los Angeles and how the city inspired
some of his songs, including the one he was about to play next. The crowd burst into laughter when the first line of the song was “Oh, good God, I hate this town,” the piece was clearly driven by a disdain for LA’s culture rather than artistic inspiration. Then, Reid changed moods again and performed the nostalgic and adventurous contemporary folk song “American Roads.” In it, he romanticizes the feeling of highway driving and the freedom and control that it provides. His lyrics and vocals exuded youth and life.
Reid ended his show with the philosophical “Everything’s Fine,” asking the audience, through his lyrics, “What am I gonna do, with all this time?”. The introspective lyrics, paired with Reid’s resonant voice, enwrapped the audience in the song, and the band ended it strongly, with a highlighted guitar section to close. Reid thanked the audience and his bandmates graciously. Then, for the first time I had seen at the festival, the crowd got to their feet, awarding Noah Reid and his band with a well-deserved standing ovation.
WORDS & PHOTOS BY KIM WIESNER
The Shady Grove stage sounds like an ideal place to try and escape the blazing sun that heats this year’s Winnipeg Folk Festival. Festival-goers are planted under the trees along the edges and right up front under the stage’s hood, wherever can shield them from the rays, most with one of two items in hand: a fan or a lemonade.
However, the heat wave doesn’t stop festival-goers from checking out Winnipeg Folk Festival’s Young Performers Program, which showcases upcoming musicians aged 14-24. These young performers attend a twoday workshop led by a mentor and perform at the festival on the third day.
Group four, mentored by local artist and past program graduate Roman Clarke, takes the stage Friday afternoon.
Ben Notes, Xander Boulard, Rebecca Sichon, Jane Fuentez, and Caylie G sit side by side on stage with their guitars on their laps.
“Ben Notes, self-described loverboy,” Clarke laughs as he introduces the first artist.
Notes fulfills his responsibility as the first performer to capture the audience’s attention with his soft voice and gentle strums of his acoustic guitar as he performs his song “Listening to Silence.” A sonically fitting segue into the next performance by Xander Boulard, who shares a similar sound.
Boulard, admittedly nervous, is reassured by the crowd’s swaying as he recites the poetic lyrics from his song “Suitcase,” singing, “Can we unpack from this nauseating trip/I’m lovesick.”
We learn that Boulard specializes in soft ballads as each performer goes down the line, taking turns until they’ve each sung three times.
Shaking things up, Rebecca Sichon embodies power and confidence, standing up for her performance and singing songs that truly showcase her vocal ability. The lyrics in her first song are about being ambitious, knowing what she wants, and getting it for herself. Sichon holds eye contact with the crowd as she belts, her impressively strong and smooth voice making her a standout. In the middle of her third and final song, she instructs the crowd to sing “I still need to breathe” along with her, and they comply.
On the contrary, Jane Fuentez has a deeper, hoarse voice with a bit of an
intentional, stylistic shake to it. Wearing a long, floral dress and glitter on her face in true Folk Fest fashion, Fuentez performs original songs for her first two and a mashup of her favourite popular songs, including “Riptide” by one of last year’s festival performers Vance Joy, as her last. Audience members are cheering, singing along, and snapping pictures. Fuentez is a wildcard the way she effortlessly moves through sounds and genres, even performing rap-style songs.
Another standout, not only for her meaningful lyrics and buttery voice, but relatable and witty energy, is Cailey G. She knows how to talk the crowd, cracking jokes and telling stories while she strums her guitar. Cailey G’s final song marks the end of this group’s hour-long Young Performers Program set. After acknowledging the effect the sun has on everyone’s energy, she teaches the crowd her song’s chorus and breathes life into the audience once again.
The performers were well prepared, and their confidence grew as the time passed. The support they have for each other is evident through their smiling, nodding, and learning to mouth along to each other’s songs as each one took the spotlight. The show comes to an end as mentor Clarke joins them on stage to sing together, covering “If I Ain’t Got You” by Alicia Keys.
WORDS & PHOTOS
BY LIAM WALKER
It was still cloudy when I finally got to the house at 5 o’clock. I had just made the walk across the UofM’s “Smartpark” to get there, Strawberry Punch Band’s jam space. The memory of seeing two girls there holding hands together on a boulder overlooking the park’s pond stands out to me for whatever reason.
I didn’t think I was going to make it on time, but despite the idea of being fashionably late growing on me, I made it to the interview at five on the dot, where Danielle greeted me at the door[Photo 2].
But where even am I? To do what? I think people would be surprised how often they lose track of where they are and for what reason — outside of a few arbitrary labels. Me personally, I’m here doing an interview with Strawberry Punch Band, a local band, at the house rented by bandmember Danielle, the band’s practice space has been set-up in the basement. What better place for a Space Jam?
Neither writing an article nor hosting an interview are things I’ve ever done before now, and even considering I
was going into it generally unprepared. I took the assignment for the photography mainly, though, of course, it was also fun to interview a band.
Actually, come to think of it, outside of some phone pics, I’ve never really done photography before this either.
Daniell McDonald, Tuva Bergstrom, Freja Haight, and Brandy Lafond together all make up Strawberry Punch Band, a local up-and-coming twee-pop girlband. But again, these are just arbitrary labels, and I’m not even sure the right ones at that. “Up-
and-coming” doesn’t do justice to how much the band has found themselves by this point despite only been formed for a year, and although twee pop is Strawberry Punch’s jam first and foremost, as on its own as a label hardly indicates how unique the band really is.
Danielle, official/unofficial bandleader, would go on to describe Strawberry Punch Band as “like frolicking through a field of strawberries on a summer day, surrounded by the cutest girls you’ve ever seen wearing frilly dresses.”
“BUT,” interjects Freja [Photo 4, right], “there’s angst.”
Right here is the core duality of the band: pink and frilly with overtones of darker moodiness. And they’re not so much flipping back and forth between the two as they are just both. I’d liken their vibe to a raven with lipstick in a red-violet bow, or Strawberry Shortcake with all the whites of its colour palette swapped for blacks.
“When the sun goes down,” adds Tuva [Photo 3], “it’s like the teenage lesbian angst of not being able to talk to women, which is so real.”
When talking with a four-member band for long enough you inevitably must ask the big question: “Which Beatle are each of you?,” which of course has already been discussed at length between them in the past.
Brandy [Photo 5], the *primary* drummer, defaults to being the Ringo. It should be noted that I say “primary” because no member ever sticks to just one instrument in the band. They’re all multi-instrumentalists, and although they have instruments they default to, they often switch them around for certain songs. This is seen in photo 1, where it’s Danielle, the usual lead guitarist, on the drum set while Brandy takes centre stage.
where we’re heading? So where exactly *are* Strawberry Punch Band heading? On the band’s future, Tulva just had this to say: “Top of the Pops.” Brilliantly to the point. If you’re interested in the more immediate future (as of me writing this), you can catch the band performing at the Rainbow Trout Music Festival on August 18th. Also, although currently without a release date, their debut album is impending and is being expected on the horizon.
Strawberry Punch Band has found themselves a consistent, unique aesthetic, where they’re able to capture the full range girlhood while without being put into a box. It’s also an aesthetic their name represents well. Danielle couldn’t have put it any better, “You gotta take the strawberry with the punch.” Who said that originally,
Where was I? Yeah — Beatles, Brandy. Anyone being “the Ringo” gives the implication of just being the fourth one, but that’s not the case with Brandy, having the most diverse music taste of the band and would be the stand-out member of most other bands. The George Harrison of the group is easily Freja, the mystic “quiet one” who you can tell has more to say than what they choose to speak. Then finally the Lennon-McCartney of the band falls onto Danielle and Tuva. Which of the two is who could be argued, but they both are definitely the two most prominent presences of the band, at least in conversation.
But of course, what good is knowing where we are now if we don’t know
In the end, I’m brought back to this: where am I, and what am I doing? It may seem redundant; I’ve already asked and answered these questions earlier, but they’re both ones you have to ask/answer repeatedly and frequently—otherwise, you trail off. In fact, between the first and second times I’ve asked these two questions in this article, well over a month has passed in writing. I’m very late getting this into Stylus; I’m currently slapping on a couple of concluding paragraphs onto this old article draft for the sake of my own sanity. In fact, two months have passed now since I’ve done the interview with Strawberry Punch Band, and I think three-to-four since accepting the assignment. I have no idea how much longer until this is being read in an issue. The Neil Young lyric comes to mind, as it does often, “You know how time fades away.”
I like the photos when they’re out of focus anyway. You gotta take the strawberry with the punch.
WORDS & PHOTOS BY KIM WIESNER
So, the Winnipeg Folk Fest is such a highlight for us here . How was your first one?
It was amazing. I totally understand. I think it’s a highlight for everyone. We had been playing a few festivals earlier in the past two weeks. And to be honest, I was feeling really low energy, drained, the traveling, playing, the being in crowds. I’m not so much of a like festival-goer type. And then I ended up being in festivals a lot. But then I got to the Winnipeg Folk Fest,
and it was just the most like, you know, kind of generative, energy-giving, sweet, soft experience. And, I’m just gonna say it on the record. I don’t think I’ve been treated that well. You know what I mean? The organization here is so efficient, and everything is thought out. And as soon as you meet something as an artist, it’s like you’re like, you just have to rub the magic bottle, and the genie appears and here’s a beautiful meal and your transportation. I’m really glad you had a great time .
I noticed everyone on stage, and you guys are all smiling at each other and looking like you’re having fun . How important is it to be close with the people you play and make music with?
I don’t think it’s a prerequisite, but I think it’s lucky. It’s something to try to make happen, but you know, I think it’s like in life, it’s lucky when you find people you really mesh with and get along with and you feel comfortable with. I’ve known everybody in the
band for almost a decade now so it hasn’t always been this easy, this is our peak so far right so like enjoying each other’s company which is really like a great effect of spending a lot of time together because it could have it could go the other way too but like yeah it’s just like total trust and total gratitude and so that’s really special.
So, did you all know each other when you first started making music?
No, that’s a thing, three of the four I met through music and the other woman on stage was a friend before, but she is a classical pianist. She just made the jump from classical to more pop or popular music, so it’s a recent thing that she’s available. The other three I met through music, and it took a long time, and it was also so intense, you know, like you tour together or you’re rooming together, you’re trying to be aware of everyone’s needs at all points, and yeah, that could go many ways you know.
Absolutely . I don’t make music but I’m always at shows and it’s just really cool to see how music can connect people . I loved your Folk Fest set and thought you had a pretty distinct sound . How did you find and develop your artistic voice?
Great question. I think it’s like a neverending quest. I was, for a long time, very comforted by the Miles Davis quote that is like, “It takes a long time to find your voice,” because for a long time, I was like I definitely haven’t yet, now I don’t worry about it. As much as I know what I like in terms of other music, the music I make just happens kind of. I don’t think one album will ever be really similar to the other, well maybe it will, you know, but in terms of voice, I think what I have the most control over is the lyrics and that I’m really taking more and more pleasure in venturing off of the path I’ve maybe been trudging before, and that just took time and confidence. For the longest time, I didn’t know whether I could make it in music, and very recently, I became financially more secure, which is a whole conversation in and of itself, and it’s so relative. Now I can relax into it a little bit, and that really helps. I think I’m in one zone; I guess, like that Virginia Woolf concept is, like, some things you need to know you can focus on it, and you need to know that you can do it alone, that you have space and the fun.
Right, for sure . So, what drives you creatively?
I guess it changes, but I think the thing that remains the same is, like,
distilling a situation or feeling into something that is new to me in terms of expression and hoping that people relate to that version of it because, obviously, love is a common theme, friendship is a common theme, grief, we all care about the same things at the end of the day, and it’s about finding a way to express that that feels playful at least in its novelty, I guess. I say this humbly; I’m not saying I’m reinventing the love song. I think, for me, I’m just seeking to be a little bit surprised and hoping that others find something new in that too.
I love that . You released an album last year . What’s next for you?
Well, we’re working on an album right now. Actually, that is coming together at a really crazy speed; knock on wood. I’m very grateful for it. I think because the last album, I lost my mom almost three years ago, and that really sidetracked my whole life, obviously, and also my creative intentions. I made an album mostly for her and in honour of my grief and my family’s grief. And so, it turns out I had a lot of other things to say that kind of remained latent for that time, I think, and so has the speed at which the other album is happening, you know because a lot of things were put on hold.
Ever wonder what you would get if you folded a piece of paper twice and then cut the creased lines? Me neither. But maybe I’ll do it sometime and make a pamphlet from those four double-sided pages about how much I dig Fold Paper’s debut EP 4TO. Until then, you’ll have to settle for what’s written here.
While the single “Medical Jargon” was the first to be released back in March 2023 – which reminded me of early Bloc Party material –frontperson Chell Osuntade (who people might know as the bassist from Julien’s Daughter) brought things in a different direction with these four songs. Selfdescribed as a “post-punk wannabe,” this is an apt categorization for the band and functions well for what dropped on July 12th of this year. Exploring themes of personal frustration, duplicity, social critique and family history, the sound matches the content: it’s multilayered and complex.
It begins in a haze of lo-fi –guitar feedback coupled with a keen, repeating drumline whose tone becomes
progressively clear and dialed-in. The subsequent two minutes of “End Zone” before vocals come in provide listeners with a taster of what to expect… it’s playful and stratified; navigating dissonance and beauty. There’s ample delay used in this first track as well as some variations in tempo, and it bleeds right into the second song “Idle Idle.” A post-punk revival spirit really shines through in this one, with gnarly guitars, hard-hitting beats, and sharp jabs at human fickleness and status quo clichéd mores.
As for “Nothing to Report,” lots of sarcasm regarding expectations and “measuring up” to others – reinforced by some audio instructions from the dreaded aerobic capacity “Beep Test.” Steady bass and drums throughout, matched with querulous electric noise. There’s also a sweet music video for this first single, where we see Osuntade alongside some other familiar YWG musicians. And this brings us to “Come Down Awkward,” which seems to be a critique directed to a particular person (or type of individual); perhaps related to a fall from grace?
Unsure. But the way that stream-of-consciousnesslike lyrics intermingle with instrumentation that disintegrates and gets reconstructed is absolutely worth a listen.
Fold Paper is Chell Osuntade (vocals, guitar, bass), Brendyn Funk (guitar), and Rob Gardiner (drums). It’s also notable that all of the
songs on 4TO are over four minutes in length each, which is increasingly less common these days…so this is especially nice to hear.
Mykhailo Vil’yamson
It’s not unprecedented for an artist to put out material that moves from heavy to significantly more sedated – take, for instance, Dallas Green’s mid-to-postAlexisonfire solo project City and Colour (or alternatively, the conventional yet banal trend of most musicians to progressively mellow over the years). However, it’s refreshing to hear a move in the entirely opposite direction in what is the debut EP by Long Fall, which is the brand-new punk outfit that’s fronted by none other than Nic Dyson.
Released on August 2nd, the three-song collection – each two minutes or less – captures another side of Dyson that he’s been intending to explore more fully and completely for some time. The pensive soul that inhabits these newborn tracks is familiar (e.g. “That Song” from his 2014 album This One’s for You), but finds
itself much more in the form of “A Song for Insomnia” or “It’s Not 2012 Anymore” (i.e. the stand-alone full-band inclusions on 2017’s Where We’re From). While lyrically introspective and modest like the rest of Dyson’s catalogue, the first single “Bored” has a spirited poppunk bent to it (that acts as a good segue from old to new). Honestly expressing deepseated, relatable sentiments of unease and uncertainty, it’s also lively and sing-alongable. And there’s “Life of the Party,” which is an upbeat, candid and sarcastic anthem of introversion. It’s got a little more edge and energy than “Bored,” and works well as the closer. My favourite of the triad though has to be “Inside Out,” as it really showcases the band’s dynamism. It has a markedly more alternative/ grunge feel – which I love – and the interplay of each instrument and voice in this song is heart-resonant.
Long Fall is Nic Dyson (guitars & vocals), Monty Melynchuk (bass), Thomas Stevenson (additional vocals), and Jordan Voth (drums, recording, production & mastering); though when they play their first show in Fall 2024, rumor has it that one might see Parkview’s Brendan Kupiak in the drummer’s seat. Mykhailo Vil’yamson
