The Canadian hip hop producer discusses his platinum hits and rising the ranks
Seated backstage in the underground lair that is MTELUS’ green room, following A$AP Ferg’s “Floor Seats” tour stop, Murda Beatz reflects on his childhood exposure to music.
“I grew up on classic rock, hard rock, metal – Metallica,” he said. “That’s what I grew up on. That’s what I got a taste for as a kid. That’s why I wanted to play drums. I wanted to make a band and do all that shit because I had a rock background.”
No, Murda Beatz is not the stage name of a drummer for an up-and-coming rock ‘n’ roll band. Instead, Murda Beatz is one of the most successful hip hop producers of our generation, with an extensive catalogue that dates back to the early years of the decade. Most impressive, perhaps, is that the shaggy-haired Canadian from the southern suburbs of Toronto has become a contemporary staple in the Atlanta trap scene and beyond.
“If there’s 20 thousand producers in Toronto and you’re trying to get to Toronto artists, how are you so different than anyone else?” Murda asks. “You have to catch someone’s attention to make you different. So I went to Chicago, got in the drill scene, got my name established in the drill scene – enough to hit up the Migos and be like ‘Yo, I’m Murda Beatz, I work with Chief Keef and these guys’… Until your name holds weight, your credentials are going to hold more weight than your name.”
Murda tells the story of his early days while his thick “MURDA” chain glistens atop his pendant of a chef – a symbol for being the master at cooking beats.
Following his collaborations with Chief Keef, Murda became one of the main producers for Migos, the Atlanta rap trio credited with being some of the early forefathers of the ad lib trap rap that currently dominates the market. The exclusivity and credibility that came from that honour then allowed him to collaborate with other industry chart toppers. In the last two years alone, Murda has been responsible for creating hits like “Butterfly Effect” by Travis Scott, “Nice for What” by Drake, and recently 10x plantinum record “FEFE” by the incarcerated rainbow-haired rapper 6ix9ine and Nicki Minaj.
Murda acknowledges that he typically knows when he has a hit on his hands. While that criteria depends on a few factors like the artist and the beat itself, a lot of the magic happens when the song is made live in the studio.
“Most of the Migos stuff is in studio,” he says, “like ‘Pipe It Up,’ ‘Motorsport,’ some new shit we got coming out called ‘GNF (Give No Fucks)’ with Travis and Thug. ‘Butterfly Effect’ was done on FaceTime. ‘FEFE’ was in studio. Most of the special ones come from the studio – most of them. I think it’s just the synergy, you know what I mean? It’s just different. But some stuff, artists might hit me up and like ‘Yo, I got some crazy shit,’ which is not in studio. Then I’m gonna do my own shit, make a call, and say ‘Ey, we got a record.’”
Hip hop producer Murda Beatz discusses his success with the Concordian music editor Jacob Carey following his “Floor Seats” tour stop with A$AP Ferg. Photo by Chris Carpenter (@cb43media).
Murda recalls the time he collaborated with the recently departed Juice WRLD, a Chicago rapper most known for his highly successful track “Lucid Dreams.”
“So me and him, the day before he signed his deal, I hit him up,” Murda says. “I became a fan, you know what I’m saying, me and Cole Bennett, we started talking a few years ago. So I was always on his page, watching his shit, so I saw the ‘All Girls Are the Same’ video, said ‘This kid is fire.’ I was bumping that shit every day. So I found out he was in LA, hit him up, went to the studio, and we made 14 songs in six hours. Crazy. He’s the fastest working man possible on this earth. We made 14 songs in six hours. That shit was crazy. None of them came out, unfortunately, some of them leaked and stuff. Hopefully they might come out in the future, you never know. It’s definitely music that should come out. Everyone would appreciate it, and it’s definitely some of my best music.”
While Murda is in high demand among a wave of both new and already established artists, there are still dream collaborations that he wishes to cross off his bucket list in the near future.
“Definitely like, Rihanna, Beyonce, Bieber, Kanye, [Jay-Z] … Ed Sheeran,” Murda says. “I think me and him in a picture together would break the internet. If we did a music video together – if I was Ed Sheeran and he was Murda Beatz… that’d be crazy. I should definitely hit him up. We’ve talked back and forth. I was supposed to go to his show a few months ago but I just got too busy, but yeah, we got to do some shit. If he was me and I was him in a video, that shit would go crazy.”
Murda Beatz’ success shows no signs of slowing down any time soon.
“New songs coming out in 2020. Album in 2020. The years just keep getting bigger and bigger.”
Director Yung Chang discusses his experience at Concordia and his new film This is Not a Movie.
A first generation Chinese-Canadian born in Oshawa, Ontario, Yung Chang graduated from Concordia’s Mel Hoppenheim School of Cinema in 1999. He is now known for directing known for films like Up the Yangtze, China Heavyweight and his newest documentary, This is Not a Movie.
At Concordia, Chang built strong relationships with professors, one of which became a producer on all of his films until he moved away from Montreal.
“That city is so much a part of my development and growth as an artist and filmmaker,” he said.
Chang said that building relationships like these was one of the benefits he got from the program, adding that “Concordia has a very strong cinema program, and I particularly remember that the emphasis is on cinema as art.”
At a young age, his parents exposed him to a variety of cultural experiences, film and theatre, such as the Young People’s Theatre in Toronto, which stages productions for children. This sparked the dream to become a filmmaker.
“My father used to rent super 8mm reels and he had a projector and he would play them for my brother and I in the basement,” Chang said. “There was something about that, my father loading the super 8 into the projector and setting up the screen and the whirring of the machine and just sitting there and watching something projected like that. It was stuck in my brain.”
These experiences set the scene for his interest in the visual arts, storytelling, and ultimately, his career as a filmmaker. It was after studying at the Neighborhood Playhouse School of the Theatre in New York City that Chang started the groundwork of his first full-length documentary, Up The Yangtze, after his parents invited him to a cruise trip in China.
“Things just sort of snowballed thereafter,” he said, “I sort of discovered that this is a way I could tell stories.”
In his first year at Concordia in 1996, he was expected to shoot on 16mm film; this refers to the width of a piece of film stock, and it was one of the smaller sizes used in film.
“Back in the day, it was very much a hands-on thing,” he said. This helped Chang realize that film was a physical process that required careful consideration.
“You cut it, tape it, put it together, I think that process slows you down and makes you think a little more about how you want to put something together,” said Chang.
Graduating at 21, Chang had bold expectations about life and in hindsight remarks that it’s rare to make a masterpiece right out of film school.
“Those expectations have to be tapered down a little, but not so much that you lose the spark that you had,” he said. “ I had to go on a journey outside of film school to find my voice.”
Chang’s newest documentary, This Is Not A Movie, premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in September, and made its Quebec premiere on Nov. 17 and 18. The film focuses on foreign correspondent Robert Fisk whose life’s work is dedicated to documenting the Middle East. There are many reasons why Chang was inspired to make a film about Fisk, including the “very urgent question about ‘what is the role of media’ and ‘what is the role of the written word’ in this new world in which we consume.”
He continued by explaining how the sheer amount of information today is shocking, and it can be difficult to discern what is real and what is fake.
“So, who do we lean to? Who are the people that we can trust?,” he asked.
To Chang, Fisk is a part of the last generation of “boots on the ground, pad and paper” reporters.
“If anything, somebody who’s been around for forty years, doggedly reporting ‘the truth’ must have some insight into what journalism is,” he said.
Fisk is able to delineate complex places, events or wars for people in a way that mainstream media does not. Chang and his team did not want to make a political film.
Instead, they wanted to hear what Fisk had to say, allowing space for the audience to criticize him as he’s such a controversial figure.
“We want you to not agree with him, we want you to question it, but sit through the movie and feel through the ideas he presents,” Chang said.
This is Not a Movie is about the subjectivity of truth, our complicity of war and questioning our beliefs in journalism. It’s an urgent film, made for today.
Chang ended by emphasizing that we need media literacy education to help people weed through the bombardment of information we face every day. This is precisely why we need people like Fisk. Chang hopes that this film will inspire new journalists, filmmakers and anyone who watches to have a deep understanding of how we interact with “the idea of truth”.
For now, This is Not a Movie will continue its festival tour and is set to be screened at DOC NYC and the International Documentary Film Festival Amsterdam. It’s set to be theatrically released in Canada, in March 2020.
With files from the National Film Board of Canada.
Following Alan Shepard’s seven-year mandate, Graham Carr is stepping in as new Interim President at quite a euphoric and challenging time for the university.
Concordia recently took a significant jump among the 2,000 worldwide universities ranked by the annual Center for World University Rankings; the largest surge in any Canadian university in the past year. As social movements are calling for educational reform and a change in power dynamics, seizing the momentum will be one of Carr’s greatest challenges. So, what’s next?
Graham Carr
Carr: I have been in a leadership position at Concordia for quite a number of years. I think I have been part of a lot of decision making since 2006. We have incredible momentum at the moment and we want to seize that momentum, continuing in our strategic direction. But always asking what can we do more? What can we do next? There is a terrific opportunity for us in terms of increasing our visibility of the university – nationally and internationally. How can we continue to improve the student experience at the university and increase our research impact for Quebec and Canadian society? Those are all priorities for us; the appetite to grow, the thirst for knowledge and curiosity about what’s different, those are pretty good drivers for education. You can’t stand still if you’re always thinking of the next generation. We need to always be in that mode of constantly refreshing our reflection about who we are and where we want to go.
Such mentality undeniably helped Concordia’s worldwide reputation, but how can you explain its latest jump in the rankings?
Carr: We have made a conscious effort in Quebec to be better known, to recruit the majority of our students. More than 70 per cent of our students come from Quebec. We are bringing about 25 per cent francophones into the university now, as well as our international students mix. I think that is also a way of communicating to a wider world, who we are and what we can do.
A student’s experience is something quite personal. Every voice is different. In a university which holds more than 50,000 undergraduate and graduate students, how do you balance the interests of every student?
Carr: That is a challenge! Part of the issue is to realize that in a large comprehensive university like Concordia, people’s needs are different. What might work in business school, doesn’t work in the science labs. The needs of students for apprenticeship opportunities in aerospace engineering, for instance, are different than a student who wants a global experience, like the chance to study another language, another culture in another part of the world. So, the starting point for trying to be successful is to understand what the different needs in the university are, and to realize that with the resources you have are not infinite – how you can use [those resources] in a way that has a big impact for as many students as possible.
When you look back on your own student years and the impact that education and different experiences had on you, what do you wish to bring upon Concordia?
Carr: I think if you want to be successful in higher education, whether you are a student or staff or administrator, it’s because, fundamentally, you want to learn. The university has changed a lot since I have been here. It has gone from strength to strength. I think it’s just really an opportunity for everybody’s growth; growth in terms of your curiosity, your network. If you are a student, you have the opportunity to grow and discover areas that you are interested in; to meet new people, to build your network. Equally, I would like to believe that for the staff’s faculty, for university administrators, it’s also all about growth. It’s all about looking for ways to improve and do things differently -– being curious about what makes a next-generation university. Those are the things that I find excited about the job. I’m, frankly, learning new things every day. I meet people that I wouldn’t otherwise meet. For example, when I was in the research sector of the university, I got the chance to learn a lot about fields of knowledge and expertise that I didn’t know.
It’s true that it’s usually once you have graduated that you realize how many opportunities were presented to you through the university…
Carr: Yes! It’s about the best opportunity. As a student – and I don’t want this to be misunderstood – you have the luxury of time. You have time to explore, to experiment. And I’m sure many students have started down one pathway and realized “that’s really not for me, here’s a different path that I didn’t know about and that looks very exciting.”
Your own path led you to this presidency. The very nature of being a positive leader is in itself fascinating, but as we are running out of time, what would be a must-quality?
Carr: Top quality for leaders? Can it be two? I think one is the ability to listen. Then, the other is the ability to foster success in people and encourage them to do their best and get the best out of them. Short and sweet. That would be it!
In conversation with student artist Teddy Desmarais…
In experiencing Teddy Desmarais’s artwork, viewers are transported into a mystical, surreal world, one in which puppets, castles, and costuming are everywhere. Creating vivid, intricately detailed characters and a world of the surreal, Desmarais shows expansive imagination within their art, while reimagining reality and their personal environment.
Desmarais is a multidisciplinary artist, who grew up in Victoria, British Columbia, and moved to Montreal two years ago. They are in their second year at Concordia, studying fibres and film animation, through which their practice explores concepts such as personal queer identity, organically made and handmade art, and materiality. These themes are considered through the use of recycled materials, along with a central focus on puppetry and costuming. Their practice includes amazingly detailed fibre works that invoke a sense of the surreal and mystical—a recent work includes a puppet dollhouse castle. The castle, decorated with different fibres and intricate detail brings together puppet and costume forms. It’s complete with a spot for Desmarais to put their face into the form, incorporating the artist’s physical presence into the work.
Exploring different mediums and finding influence from their environment, not to mention their own experiences and identity, Desmarais’ art truly stands on its own.
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Currently, what are some of the main focuses, mediums and themes within your work?
“I’ve always been very multidisciplinary and multi-medium based, but for the most part I tend to use a lot of recycled materials for 3D work (fabric scraps, magazines, cardboard, plastic). I do 2D work as well on a regular
basis, but I wouldn’t say it’s the focus of my practice. Right now, I’m trying to make my work a little more meticulous. I’ve been compelled by effortlessness and intuition for a while, but I really want to learn as much as I can—while I’m here in school—about the materials I can use and get better with them or even venture into realms of other mediums I normally shy away from, like resin and moulds and organics.
“I really believe that handmade objects have inherent magical qualities, and I love the idea of creating something from start to finish myself.” Photo courtesy of the artist.
I’m on a little bit of a quest to build enveloping costumes and environments either through film with stop motion and performance, or with live experiences. This, as the root of my practice, is inherently an expression and exploration of my own queer identity and how I feel I genuinely interact with the world and its speed of demand and explanation. I really believe that handmade objects have inherent magical qualities, and I love the idea of creating something from start to finish myself, especially as industrial habits grow incredibly against that. Puppets really combine all those aspects to me: a melting pot of costume, performance, character design, sets, and movement. So fibres has been definitely excellent for that. I was very starstruck first learning how to hand-dye things and embroider and quilt!”
Have you worked in other mediums and focuses? What was the transition and process to get to your practice now?
“I have always been so absorbed in too many things and ideas that by the time I applied for university it was very difficult to narrow down what I really wanted to do, until I began hyperfocusing my attention on stop motion, puppets and costumes. As far as art-based mediums go, I was always a really good knitter and felter as a kid. I’ve been highly sensitive all my life and I remember wanting to make things that felt sentient and fantastic and captivating. Although I was always obsessed with costumes, sets and decorating, my practice in itself used to be very heavily limited to drawing, ceramics, painting and occasionally silkscreening. Then, I slowly started integrating cartoons and collages and eventually moved to watercolours. I took a sculpture course in fall 2016 and a ceramics course in winter 2018 and I think that was what really started to push me in the right direction. I made a wizard costume in January 2017 and my first puppet in spring 2017, right around when I went down a wormhole of revisitin
g James and the Giant Peach,The Neverending Story and other beautifully handcrafted puppet-based films. I have been in love with exploring puppetry, set building and costumes, and combining the two ever since. My most recent costume, a puppet dollhouse castle that I wear with my face sticking out the middle and my legs out the bottom, is a sincere expression of this growing infatuation with exploring this self-sustained medium.”
How have Concordia and Montreal, vs. B.C., influenced your work, if at all?
“Growing up in Victoria was fulfilling in a mystical way, considering how spiritually charged the environment is, and how a lot of weird stuff happens because of that, but it was also, hilariously, a lot of being bored and creating your own fun. Which lead, curiously, to spending a lot of time with friends galavanting around in costumes, taking photos and sneaking about. This kind of carefree, goofy,
creative habit and attitude is definitely something I feel like inherently exists in Montreal, which makes it a prime stomping ground for authentic exploration and fun, something I feel is a vital piece to the puzzling growth of my work.”
“I have been in love with exploring puppetry, set building and costumes, and combining the two ever since.” Photo courtesy of the artist.
In general, what are some influences within your work?
“I think the things I’m most drawn to are always in flux, but I’m attracted to things that feel like a mirror to my subconscious, and things that appear as endearing surprises. This can be anything that dips into unlearning censorship and encouraging mischief and chaos and involuntary tomfoolery (but coming from a place of tenderness of course!). Specifically, I’ve always been very inspired by goofy medieval art, as well as absent-minded scribbles and children’s drawings. Recently I’ve been really getting into enchanting environmental facets like shadows and lightning and rainbows and old memories and bugs. And I’ll always be in love with teeth and wind chimes and secret passages and antiques and old things in general too! Fairy tales, things that are poorly sewn together, towers and cobwebs and dreams are in my heart and 100 per cent unavoidably evident now as an influence in my practice. I think a lot of things that influence me too are ultimately based on what connects the most to how I see and feel things, trying to understand the foam bubbling in my brain. It’s likely why I’m so attracted to odds and ends that are magically charged, anything that tugs at the intuitive heart strings in my chest is something I try to learn from and pursue.”
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Desmarais has participated in several local art shows in Victoria, B.C. More of their work can be found at @goodknight_ted on Instagram.
A still from Dust when the character Sarah wakes up. Photo courtesy of Evangeline Kabuya.
Concordia graduates featured at MIBFF talk about the inspiration behind their films
At the Montreal International Black Film Festival (MIBFF) last week, I had the opportunity to speak with Concordia graduates Evangeline Kabuya and Irene Angelico. Both are producers of amazing but entirely different films exploring aspects of black identity and culture.
After graduating from the communications program in 2016, Kabuya created Poussière (Dust), a short silent film inspired by her experience working in a library.
Q: Can you to talk me through the events that take place in the movie and why you directed it that way?
A: I was inspired by the works of Maya Deren, especially her piece At Land (1944). I think the similarities between my short and hers are obvious, like how the protagonist seemed to move seamlessly from location to location. I like the absurdity of it, how you cannot help but feel involved in the storyline.
Now, when people watch Dust, they label it as experimental even though [that] was not my intention. The way I see it, there is a strong narrative line, nothing is unsure about it. Dust came to me in fragments. I stitched [the ideas] together almost randomly.
Q: What do you hope people take away from your work?
A: My goal is to create narratives that include black women. I want people to see us. Once they do, I want them to develop their own understanding of it. I want them to make the meaning of the work their own.
I believe that as soon as someone sees my work, it’s taken from me. The meaning of it is not mine to decide anymore. When each one of us tries to understand a movie, we all come with our own baggage. It’s impossible to read a work the exact same way as another person, and I think that’s the beauty of art in general.
How does Dust reflect your learning experiences at Concordia? Is Dust an expressed product of your knowledge or an independent exploration?
Dust is an exploration of my creativity. Of course my studies at Concordia had a great impact on it. Thanks to my film teacher at the time, Emily Pelstring, who was more into experimental works, we got to study more unique and less tradition materials.
As my first film, Dust is a product of multiple mistakes. It was shot in 16 mm through an analog medium and, at the time, I didn’t know if it was going to be good or bad. I just followed my gut. And it was the most rewarding experience.
Evangeline Kabuya, a Concordia communications graduate and the director of the short silent film, Poussière (Dust). Photo courtesy of Evangeline Kabuya.
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Angelico’s film, Reaching for Zion follows Bob Marley’s granddaughter, Donisha Prendergast, as she traces the foundation of her grandfather’s legacy, exploring the “untold story of Rastas and Jews.”
Q: How did you come to make films with a BA in humanities of science, (now known as human relations)?
A: I co-directed my very first film with George Mihalka in a humanities of science class at Concordia. I was sick of writing papers, and I convinced George that this would be great. We had no idea if it would even be accepted. It wasn’t a sexy title—something about a young woman in a modern technological age—but it was an OK film. And we both got an A+.
Q: What was your creative process behind Reaching for Zion? How does it relate to the overall theme of MIBFF, “Speak Up!”?
A: Reaching for Zion, like all my films—in fact why I am a filmmaker at all—is all about speaking up.
Most of my films are about battling racism, poverty and religious hatred. These are my obsessions. I believe that everyone deserves a home where they can live in peace and harmony.
A photo taken in Israel of Donisha Prendergast as the Queen of Sheba in Reaching for Zion. Photo courtesy of Irene Angelico.
Like so many others, I am a huge fan of Marley’s music and of his dream of “One Love,” which embodies all these values. When I met Donisha Prendergast, Marley’s granddaughter, I was inspired by her efforts to realize that dream in our present day struggles.
In exploring all this, I became fascinated by Rastafari’s connection to Judaism. Rastas and Jews share beliefs about Yahweh/Jah, Old Testament redemption, the mystical properties of human hair, dietary practices and symbols like the Star of David and Lion of Judah. Both also share a history of slavery and persecution.
Donisha has dreamt of the African Queen Sheba since she was a girl. The Queen of Sheba’s intellectual and spiritual connection with King Solomon, son of King David, evolved into one of the most legendary romances in history. Donisha believes Haile Selassie, the former Emperor of Ethiopia (1930-1974), was a direct descendant of them.
Q: How would you describe your experience as a white producer/director of black culture?
A: We consider it a great honour for our whole team to be included in the Montreal International Black Film Festival. I am not sure I have the right to be a producer/director of black culture, and I’m not. I am looking at the commonalities of my culture as a white woman, a Jewish woman and a child of Holocaust survivors and what we have in common with Rastafari culture.
Like Donisha and all the Rastafari I have met, I believe that we can live in peace and harmony, and we don’t need to make distinctions based on colour, religion, class or anything else. There are differences, and that is wonderful. But we are also all one.
The Montreal International Black Film Festival ended on Oct. 1 with a screening of Woodpeckers at Concordia. For more information about the festival, visit the MIBFF website.
Common Holly's new album pays homage to the saddest of folk crooners.
We talked to her about playing live and the joys of botany
I arrived at Quai des Brumes and pulled out my notebook. I didn’t know what to expect. The bar was relatively small, leaving little room between the performer and the audience. Montrealer Brigitte Naggar, also known as Common Holly, had just set up with her band and started to play.
In that small room, Common Holly managed to produce a sprawling and dynamic sound. Smooth and clean guitars complemented the drum and synth textures. Their sound floated somewhere between gentle and raucous, sometimes coalescing when the whole band joined in. Naggar’s vocals, along with the backing vocals, tied the whole sound together.
The performance was great. It had an intimate but huge energy. A few days later, I spoke with Naggar.
Q: First of all, it was a great show Thursday. How do you feel about that performance?
Photo by Mackenzie Lad
A: Yeah, I feel good about it. I think the audience’s response was really nice, and the band sounded good. Actually, we
had played the night before as well, in the same venue, and I got acquainted with the sound guy. He brought a special mic for me the next night for extra clarity, so that was very nice.
Q: One of the things I noticed about the way you played is that, even though it was a small space, it was kind of a large sound. Is that the sound you were going for?
A: I mean, it kind of fluctuates a little bit because I do perform solo and duo as well, so when we have all five people there, it’s definitely a big sound. I think that, in part, reflects some elements of the record that is coming out, because it’s quite produced and there’s a lot going on and there are arrangements and drums.
Q: Now let’s do a little history about you. When did you start playing music?
A: I played piano as a kid for like nine years or so. That was my first foray into music. Then my dad gave me my first guitar lessons when I was 13. I got my first guitar when I was 16. It was supposed to be a surprise, but then [my dad’s] girlfriend at the time called me to say: “So did you get the guitar?” and I was like: “Um, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” [Laughs].
Q: What type of guitar was it?
A: It was acoustic. I actually only started playing electric about a year ago, so I feel pretty new to it still. I’ll occasionally go back to acoustic and be like: “Oh God, I’m so much better at this!” [Laughs]. But I really love playing electric. I think it gives it a bit of that hard edge that I’m looking for.
Photo by Mackenzie Lad
Q: And what music did you start playing? Did you do covers or did you just play around?
A: I started with covers for sure. I was very much like a 16-year-old doing Elliott Smith and Postal Service and Emily Haines covers, that sort of thing. And then I started to write my own music and some really terrible songs on Myspace, and it was very much in my bedroom for myself, super quiet. I think that’s also how I developed a really quiet sound. It was not that I never wanted to be heard at all. I, you know, slowly started to emerge more and more, as people were showing signs of wanting to hear my music. I kind of got over my fear of being heard a little bit.
Q: Were you always comfortable with your voice? Did you just want to sing for yourself?
A: It wasn’t necessarily that I was afraid that my voice wasn’t good enough, but it’s more an aspect of my personality. I have never been a very external kind of person, and it’s something I had to learn to do. And I do quite enjoy it, now that it’s something I do. I do really like it and it continues to be a challenge for me to get out there and perform and be expressive, because I definitely feel introverted.
Q: Are you anxious before a performance?
A: Less so these days. I think it’s because it’s becoming more habitual, but I just get a little nervous stomach, a little stomach ache. [Laughs].
Photo by Mackenzie Lad
Q: So, how did you get your stage name, Common Holly?
A: I started in a brainstorm circle with a group of my friends. We were looking for imagery that reflected the sound of the music, and we decided that plants and botanical imagery suited it best. So I did some research into plants. When I came upon common holly, I really liked the idea of this very understated, general plant. But it’s also a plant that blooms in the winter, and it has these lovely red berries. It’s a plant that has cultural and religious significance as well, which I liked—I studied religion at McGill, so it’s always been something that has been fascinating for me. And also a plant with dark, spiky leaves, so I think I liked that juxtaposition of pretty and understated, but also with a stark undercurrent, a little bit sharp.
Q: Are you touring to promote your new album?
A: I have a couple of tours in the works, nothing officially announced yet. I know I’ll be touring the first week of November, and I’ll be doing a little bit at the end of October.
Common Holly’s first album, Playing House, was released Sept. 25.
Homa Hoodfar has been back since Sept. 26. Photo by Frederic Muckle.
Retired Concordia professor who was incarcerated for 112 days talks feminism, Evin Prison and Concordia’s support
Homa Hoodfar, a retired Concordia University professor and researcher, sat down with The Concordian to discuss her 112-day experience in Evin prison in Iran. The Iranian-Canadian anthropology professor was arrested while on a personal and research visit to Iran. The 65-year-old suffers from a rare neurological disease that causes severe muscle weakness. She spent some time hospitalized before being brought back to her cell where she could barely walk or talk. Hoodfar has been back in Montreal since Sept. 26.
The Concordian: In an interview with CBC, you said the guards arrested you because they thought you were trying to meddle in an Iranian parliamentary election and bring your feminism work and research into politics. Can you expand on that?
Homa Hoodfar: In Iran, there’s less than three per cent women in the Parliament. When I was there, which was during this election, women in Iran were questioning why there were so few of them in the parliament. In an interview I held on an earlier trip there, I said that the question is not that there are too few women but too many men in the parliament. During this trip to Iran, there were women who were organizing to change the face of the parliament and make it more female-oriented. Somehow the guards said I had something to do with that campaign. I knew of the campaign, but I didn’t know a single one of these women. Yet, for the government, feminism is a form of soft revolution which tends to change the Islamic culture. My argument to them was that any culture that doesn’t change is a dead culture. Our culture has changed and women are trying to voice their opinions like any oppressed group, but the guards want to believe that these ideas are coming from outside of Iran. For them, I’m a self-declared feminist and it was enough for them to arrest me.
TC: Can you speak about the research you’ve done related to Middle Eastern countries?
Hoodfar: My academic work has implications into the contemporary situation in the Middle East. I don’t only work on Iran’s situation. I’ve also been working on [research in] Egypt, Pakistan and even Indonesia. Although, the guards weren’t interested in my work elsewhere, they were just interested in my work in Iran. I had been working on family laws, women reproductive rights and refugees. Also, in 2011, with one of my PhD students, we did write a book on the debate of women in the parliament. Yet, this book doesn’t even mention Iran and somehow they believed that I changed my field of research to interfere with the current elections.
TC: What came to your mind when they came to arrest you?
Hoodfar: They actually came to raid my apartment on the night before I was supposed to leave for Canada. They took my computer, my telephone, my iPad and a lot of books and folders with all my research. There were six big bags of everything that they took. They asked me to go to an interrogation the next day and to go to court within the next five days. At the time, there were no charges or files. Although, as a social scientist, we always say that social science is considered to be a criminal activity, because a lot of people who do research are called in by the police to investigate the research. If the government doesn’t like the results, the researcher usually will go to jail for five or six years. So I was not surprised when this happened to me but I wasn’t expecting to be put in jail. Usually they ban you from travelling and call you in for interrogations a few times.
Different student protests happened to pressure the release of Hoodfar. Photo Alex Hutchins
TC: What do you remember from the Evin prison?
Hoodfar: I was in a very tiny cell which was about two meters by a metre and a half. There was nothing except a carpet and three military blankets they give you. One you sleep on, one you use as a pillow and the other one to cover you. I was on my own for a few days, but then they moved me to a room with three other women because of a prison inspection and so I suppose they didn’t want me to be in a solitary cell. After that, they brought me back with another woman to stay in the tiny cell. There were no windows in this room, and lights were on all day and night. With the light, I was not able to sleep so they gave me sleeping pills. I would also receive my medication from my family, which was very important because my health wasn’t very good. I would also demand that they give me newspapers or something to read because there was nothing to do besides going to the interrogations. Until they brought the young woman to stay with me, there was also no one to talk to. Most of them were sex workers who were only 21 or 22 years old. I ended up chatting with them and collecting their life history. Then, I started to write on my wall with my toothbrush, treating it like field research, which made the time there easier. Whenever I would go to the interrogations, I would take mental notes and when I couldn’t sleep at night, I would write on the wall. Young women thoughtI was crazy but just the action of writing helped my mind stay active. I collected the data and hopefully, when the time is right, I will start writing them down. I had at least 45 sessions of interrogations, some of which would last all day. I also would hear when the guards were interrogating other people. They used different methods for the sex workers than they used for me.
TC: Was there a method of interrogation they used which was difficult for you?
Hoodfar: I knew of their methods. They kept on telling me that I was nothing, but I knew it wasn’t true. I also accepted the fact I would stay in the prison for a long time and, because I did, there was nothing that they could do to really bring me down. What angered me the most was when they played the song used at my spouse’s funeral, which they found on my iPad. In contrast, young women were very frightened and cried a lot because they thought when the guards saw them crying, they might be more lenient towards them. Of course, for me, the interrogators were younger than me, which in the Iranian culture, it gave me an upper hand. Initially, they were playing on the fact that I was the old woman, but I took their method and reversed it and used it against them. I was thinking to myself that I lived for 65 years the way that I wanted and reached my goals. Therefore, I told them it didn’t matter if I had to stay in the Evin prison for the rest of my life. I had no regrets at all. I also told them that if the rest of my life has to be there, so be it. With all that being said to them, they didn’t have anything to frighten me with. This is when they played the music and I asked them to stop it. Which they didn’t want to until I asked them if this was part of the Islamic human rights, because yes, our culture has different human rights. They did everything to make me cry and the fact that they couldn’t break me was a victory.
TC: How long were you in contact with your family?
Hoodfar: Before I was taken to Evin, I would go to interrogations but then would go home and I was able to chat, Skype, or go on Facebook. The problem was that they were listening to the conversations I had on my phone, but at least I was in touch with my family. I was also very overwhelmed with the support that came with my release. The support came from a lot of scholars from the left or right wing, from Islamic scholars and also from people from very diverse backgrounds. I received letters of support from Indonesia, Hong Kong, Bangladesh, Turkey and many more countries. It was also very heartwarming to see all the support coming from Canada. Iran wanted me to stop my research but now more people know about my research than if they didn’t arrested me.
TC: What was the process for them to release you?
Hoodfar: The day I was released was actually a very interesting one. Two nights before the release, they took me where the interrogation took place and taped me for about five to six hours. They wanted me to say that I regret what I’ve done, to which I told them that I haven’t done anything illegal and therefore I don’t regret anything. Then they told me there were three conditions on which they could release me on diplomatic ground. I had to say that I regret what I’ve done, that I won’t be doing networking in Iran and that I won’t do any research on women in politics anymore. I told them I don’t regret and, if I’m released, I will continue to do the same thing because I’m a researcher. I have never done networking in Iran anyway and doing research on women or women in politics is part of my work. I was very touched when I learned about the student campaign and the demonstration happening. I only got to see the pictures when I got back to Montreal.
Hoodfar reunites with her niece after her time in Evin prison. Photo by Alex Hutchins
TC: After a terrifying and tireful experience, how are you feeling?
Hoodfar: Physically, my lungs are still not very well and I still get tired when I talk for a long time. I am hoping that, in a month or two, I get my energy back and start working more. Mentally, I still get upset about how the academic freedom is curtailed in Iran and how people can’t express themselves. Overall, I think I’m good. It was great to know that so many people went out of their way to support me and secure my release—especially the Canadian government, my colleagues, the academic scholars and my students from many years ago. I try to focus on the positive things rather than thinking negatively. I hope the situation in Iran changes. There is a lot to be done, and I hope social science gets more space to be discussed.
I especially want to thank the students. I don’t know everybody, but I appreciate what everyone did. I was very touched to see the videos and pictures from the demonstrations, which was a very nice surprise for me. Sometimes, when I get a little sad, I go on my computer and watch the Free Homa pictures and signs. Students at Concordia did a lot, and I’m very thankful for them.
The award-winning Canadian journalist talks prison life and press freedom
Mohamed Fahmy was in Montreal on Thursday for Concordia’s homecoming key lecture series as a speaker.The Concordian had the chance to interview the award-winning journalist who has worked for media outlets such as CNN, the BBC and Al-Jazeera.
A little over a year ago, Fahmy was released from prison in Cairo, Egypt. He, along with two of his colleagues at Al-Jazeera, were accused of being terrorists. The journalists were arrested in December 2013, found guilty in June 2014, and were incarcerated for over 400 days. In 2015, following his release, Fahmy started the Fahmy Foundation alongside his wife, with the goal of fighting the suppression of the press. Now, he is ready to get back into journalism.
The Concordian: In an interview with the CBC, you said the Canadian government could have done more to help you get out of jail. How did they help you back then, and has their process changed at all since? Are they able to better serve Canadian journalists in these situations now?
Mohamed Fahmy: Once I landed in Canada, I thanked the councillors and ambassadors for doing such a great job. I felt they were shackled, with Ottawa’s conservative approach then. When I came out of prison on bail, so many Canadian people were already criticizing the government, which I felt ministers were delegating their responsibilities to junior ministers. I was very open in my constructive critique, calling the government to take a more direct stance. The government said that quiet diplomacy worked better— I felt they should be using quiet diplomacy, and also, carpet bombing diplomacy.
For this exact reason, we started the hashtag campaign #HarperCallEgypt on Twitter which was very successful. I believe that after, the government had a more aggressive approach to my situation. Having said that, with the government today, I believe they are much, much more engaged internationally and they are very responsive to urgent calls from worried families. We were able to bring back Kevin Garratt from China after two years, after unfair accusations and detention that were unfounded. The Liberal government was also able to bring back Khaled Al-Qazzaz, a permanent resident in Canada, who was released after two years. I do feel that the liberal government has been responsive. I presented my protection charter in Ottawa that I’ve written with Amnesty International. We partnered together and presented the charter to the Liberal government with one of the main goals of the charter [being] to improve councillors’ services for Canadians abroad with better protection.
TC: It must be hard to get into, but what was it like adjusting to life in prison? What was the greatest difficulty?
Fahmy: Fortunately for me, I was not tortured in any way but the prison conditions at the Scorpion Prison were a psychological torture. I was in a terrorist wing with members from Al Qaeda, ISIS and extremists, with maximum security. I was living in solitary confinement with a broken shoulder and no bed. The situation got better with the support from Canadians and the diplomatic armies across the world. It became obvious that it wasn’t about the three of us anymore, but the value of the press freedom and what it meant to a true democratic society.
Also, your mind is your most dangerous enemy at that time, and keeping your mental, spiritual and physical sides intact and balanced is very important. That’s why I keep telling people that even if they are an ocean away, they can still support innocent prisoners on the other side of the world. It may sound small, but signing petitions, rallying and involving the media is extremely important for the sake of each people abroad. For example, my lawyer used these petitions in court to convince the judge that I had a whole continent behind me and that I was not a terrorist. Also, to add, my family and the guards were telling me that there were hundreds of people supporting me outside, which helped me not to give up.
TC: What was the hardest part about writing your new book The Marriott Cell: An Epic Journey from Cairo’s Scorpion Prison to Freedom?
Fahmy: The hardest part was revisiting the solitary confinement, the unfair trial and the televised arrest. We interviewed prisoners during my time there, which I included in the book. I explained what Amal Clooney, my lawyer, was doing for the case and how my wife was smuggling notes in and out of the prison. I also wrote about my return to Canada and how we take freedom for granted as Canadians.
TC: What advice would you give people in a similar situation?
Fahmy: The advice I would give to their families is that they should continue to engage with the media in order to humanize the stories of their loved ones, and to continue to keep the attention on them. They should take advantage of all the strategies that they can.
TC: After the process you went through to renounce your Egyptian citizenship, why would you want to get it again?
Fahmy: After returning to Canada, I applied for my citizenship again through my lawyers. After six months, I finally got it back. It was very important to me because, in a way, it was like the Egyptian government was giving me vindication. It was important for me to get it and get out of this experience with the least political and professional damages as possible. I did not do anything wrong, and I would like to report the news one day there again in the future.
TC: How have your views on journalism changed since your release?
Fahmy: I am now more convinced than ever that what we do, as journalists, is extremely important. It helps people who are oppressed. Our task definitely makes the world a better place—what we do is an honourable mission, and I will continue to do so and soon engage in a new journalistic opportunity.
Last month, the world lost Chantal Akerman. The Belgian auteur is mainly known as a feminist and experimental artist, but she carefully avoided labels throughout her life—it is simply as a distinguished filmmaker that she will be paid tribute by the RIDM, Montreal’s International Documentary Festival.
Her last film, No Home Movie, is not the kind of documentary that throws data at you or reads you a lecture. It’s a deeply personal and demanding video essay that presents you with images and words and rarely explains what the meaning behind them is.
The subject of the film is the director’s mother, a Holocaust survivor who lived some of her last days in the presence of Akerman’s camera. By the time the film is over, her mother has passed away, which is, as many things in Akerman’s work, implicit—her voice gets deeper; her cough gets stronger; she becomes oblivious to her grown children’s pleas to tell them a story; and her apartment eventually empties itself of her.
All of this is intercut with ambiguously long shots of nature. A four-minute shot of a tree in the wind opens the film. Another one, captured from a moving car’s window, shows a desertic landscape. What is Akerman trying to say? Is she commenting on the fact that her mother, from her cosy Brussels apartment, will never be able to witness these sights? No voiceover is provided, and the viewer is left on their own to reflect on how many mysteries died with both of these women.
“Tell me, why are you filming me like that?” asks Akerman’s mother in one of their Skype conversations. “Because I want to show that there is no distance in the world,” answers Akerman. Her camera later zooms into her mother’s face as if that could help shorten the distance between them—they speak from different continents.
Much of the film was shot at the mother’s home in Brussels, but the title should tell you that this is not what you’d call a home movie. The camera captures conversations, some involving Akerman, others without her, some inconsequential and barely audible, while others scratch the surface of the mother’s wartime trauma.
This isn’t a home movie, and I’m not even sure that it’s cinema, but it expresses a daughter’s feelings for her mother in the way she intended it. If geographical distance has been in part vanquished through technology, death, concisely illustrated by a vacant space, cannot be helped. Or perhaps as long as a film exists, a person can live on, in a perpetual loop—there lived in Brussels a woman by the name of Natalia Akerman. As No Home Movie starts, she is alive. As it ends, she has passed away. One of the pleasures of a film is that it can be rewound.
The RIDM runs from Nov. 12 to Nov. 22. No Home Movie will be screened at the Excentris Movie Theatre on Nov. 15 at 4 p.m. and Nov. 20 at 8 p.m.
The Montreal International Documentary Festival pays tribute to the late Belgian icon
Last month, the world lost Chantal Akerman. The Belgian auteur is mainly known as a feminist and experimental artist, but she carefully avoided labels throughout her life—it is simply as a distinguished filmmaker that she will be paid tribute by the RIDM, Montreal’s International Documentary Festival.
Her last film, No Home Movie, is not the kind of documentary that throws data at you or reads you a lecture. It’s a deeply personal and demanding video essay that presents you with images and words and rarely explains what the meaning behind them is.
The subject of the film is the director’s mother, a Holocaust survivor who lived some of her last days in the presence of Akerman’s camera. By the time the film is over, her mother has passed away, which is, as many things in Akerman’s work, implicit—her voice gets deeper; her cough gets stronger; she becomes oblivious to her grown children’s pleas to tell them a story; and her apartment eventually empties itself of her.
All of this is intercut with ambiguously long shots of nature. A four-minute shot of a tree in the wind opens the film. Another one, captured from a moving car’s window, shows a desertic landscape. What is Akerman trying to say? Is she commenting on the fact that her mother, from her cosy Brussels apartment, will never be able to witness these sights? No voiceover is provided, and the viewer is left on their own to reflect on how many mysteries died with both of these women.
“Tell me, why are you filming me like that?” asks Akerman’s mother in one of their Skype conversations. “Because I want to show that there is no distance in the world,” answers Akerman. Her camera later zooms into her mother’s face as if that could help shorten the distance between them—they speak from different continents.
Much of the film was shot at the mother’s home in Brussels, but the title should tell you that this is not what you’d call a home movie. The camera captures conversations, some involving Akerman, others without her, some inconsequential and barely audible, while others scratch the surface of the mother’s wartime trauma.
This isn’t a home movie, and I’m not even sure that it’s cinema, but it expresses a daughter’s feelings for her mother in the way she intended it. If geographical distance has been in part vanquished through technology, death, concisely illustrated by a vacant space, cannot be helped. Or perhaps as long as a film exists, a person can live on, in a perpetual loop—there lived in Brussels a woman by the name of Natalia Akerman. As No Home Movie starts, she is alive. As it ends, she has passed away. One of the pleasures of a film is that it can be rewound.
The RIDM runs from Nov. 12 to Nov. 22. No Home Moviewill be screened at the Excentris Movie Theatre on Nov. 15 at 4 p.m. and Nov. 20 at 8 p.m.
Solids’ music combines all your favourite post-Cobain bands
Forty shows in nine countries on two sides of the Atlantic Ocean in a span of three months is enough to render any group of human beings good and pliable. However, the critically-lauded hard-rock duo Solids are as sturdy and as vibrant as ever. Indeed, one could be forgiven for thinking they weren’t two musicians I was speaking with in a Cafe Express near Papineau Metro, but two Montreal-bred, industrial sized Rubik’s cubes, seated in the two comfy armchairs across from mine.
And the analogues don’t stop there: if we take the bright September sun streaming through the window as a giant stage light, Louis Guillemette (drums and vocals) and Xavier Germain-Poitra (guitar and vocals) are presently the spitting image of their live sets: Germain-Poitra is inclined a little forward, not demanding so much as politely requiring our attention, while Guillemette is more casual, taking more or less full advantage of the back of his chair.
G-P: We played [The London Calling Festival] in Amsterdam and at first it was weird…the drums were all the way far behind.
G: Usually I play [alongside him] up at the front of the stage, but it was a festival with really fast changeovers. So he was playing up front…totally alone.
G-P: Exactly, at first we were like “ahh this is going to suck,” but then it ended up being super wild. People got crazy.
One can imagine. The official London Calling website puts it best: the Solids guys have what is called “veel enthousiasme,” the kind that can’t help but rear its banging head. Their live shows manage to be visceral while remaining metronomically flawless, with Germain-Potra’s guitar running through a fairly massive guitar amp, a bass amp and a bass cab; achieving a wider range of frequency than most four-pieces can attest to. And who needs a four-piece anyway, when you have what can only be described as Quebec’s answer to Dave Grohl tearing through the measures beside you, the aural inclination is inevitably towards assault.
But that’s not to say Solids’ music is emotionless: listen to the first track on their debut LP, Blame Confusion, and it’s quickly apparent that you should really be listening to this on your Sony brand non-skip discman, traveling back to a soul-destroying, early-90s high school. In short, their songs have that beautiful dynamic of angsty introspection and cathartic exuberance that both characterized and dominated the post-Pixies alt set for most of the early ‘90s:
G-P: I’d say for our influences, of course, the bands that are always mentioned; Dinosaur Jr., Sonic Youth.
G: Because when we were in [our first band], Expectorated Sequence, we were listening to a lot of Breach and Converge and we still like that kind of style.
G-P: I think there’s a new Breach, eh?
G: A new Breach?!?
The Concordian: A new “Bleach”?!?
G-P: I think there’s another band, like, called Breach.
The Concordian: Oh… I thought you meant “Bleach” like, the Nirvana album.
Both: Ohh nononono!
G: The Swedish band.
G-P: Yeah it’s like a Swedish…noise-metal I’d say? Maybe?
The ‘90s are confusing, folks. But, returning to the matter at hand, one is inclined to ask whether Solids brings anything new to the table set by all the above-mentioned bands. The answer is yes and no. The remarkable thing is how Solids manages to be so much a synthesis of all the different strains of Cobainism – everything from My Bloody Valentine to Swans is traceable here – while still maintaining a certain individuality. Good vocals, heavy drums, and dense, detailed production are what make Solids’ album, Blame Confusion, stand out from most of the other throwback bands currently making a resurgence.
Another thing that is immediately apparent both on Compact Disc as well as face-to-face is that Solids are having extreme amounts of fun doing what they do. Their primary focus is on hammering out fresh tracks as much as possible, hitting their fan base hard and often.
G: At first we wanted to do only EP’s so we could get something out every 6 months, always writing new jams and having new jams coming up, but doing an LP is a whole different process.
G-P: Yeah we try not to overthink but it happens anyway.
The Concordian: Do you guys prefer working in the studio or doing live shows?
G-P: We really enjoy both, it’s just that at some points in the studio the feeling can get lost. In the studio it’s more zen, but [sometime you hear] something so many times that you don’t know… “Is it even good?”
G: And now the only thing we do in life is play music. So for the next album for the first time we’ll really get the chance to work a fuckin’ lot.
That is, right after they finish another three months of touring. After performing at POP Montreal on Friday Sept. 19, Solids are heading west to Ontario and then down into State-land. They’ve set themselves the goal of having a new LP on the shelves by Fall 2015, which means having the recording done around February. They also offered the vague clue that they were planning to experiment a little more. So…Keytar, I’m assuming?
The Seattle-based band discuss their latest album and inspirations
The Concordian had a chance to speak with The Head and the Heart’s vocalist and guitarist, Josiah Johnson, as the band prepared to embark on their North American tour to showcase their most recent album, Let’s Be Still. Based out of Seattle, the band became a true grassroots success story when they self-funded and self-released their self-titled debut album in 2011 before eventually being signed onto the city’s most famous music label, Sub Pop. Johnson discussed the popularity of folk-rock, how a city shapes a band, and the pressures of creating a successful follow-up album.
The Head and the Heart discuss the current popularity of folk-rock and the diversity of their native city, Seattle. Photo by: Curtis Wave Millard.
The Concordian: In the past few years, the popularity of folk-rock has just skyrocketed: Mumford & Sons, The Lumineers, Of Monsters and Men, and The Head and the Heart have been leading the way. What would you say has led to the popularity of the folk pop genre?
Johnson: I think that’s a reaction to over-produced music. Folk-rock holds a certain nostalgia to it. It’s inspired by a sense of calm. I also think that it’s a bit of a cure for a modern, fast paced world. It allows for self-reflection and quiet space.
C: The most remarkable thing is the fact that you guys all gained that popularity with your debut album. What type of pressure and/or expectations did you put on yourselves when you entered the studio to record your follow-up album?
J: Well there was a lot pressure to write songs about subjects that we connect with now. The first album was appropriate to where we were when we wrote it and there was little pressure.
C: Your first album was self-funded and self-recorded without a label. This time, you’re part of Sub Pop. How would you contrast the two experiences?
J: During the first album, we were already playing the songs live before we ever recorded it. We went in and just did them quickly. But for the new album, we had a lot more time to really arrange the songs and work on certain subtleties and nuances in the studio. We actually spent 10 weeks recording.
C: Tell me about how the city of Seattle has helped shaped your band.
J: I definitely feel like one thing that’s great about Seattle is the fact that music is such a mainstream celebrated part of the city’s culture. Seattle has plenty of great music festivals and the city council is really concerned with fostering a great musical scene. Seattle just breeds a certain personality to be open to music and really supports their local bands.
C: Do you remember a specific moment when you just thought “Wow, I think we’ve made it”?
J: Before we even had a record out and we had no songs recorded, we were used to playing for around 100-150 people in Seattle, but some of these people had come to see so many shows that they knew the lyrics by heart. They were dedicated enough that they knew our songs already. That was one such moment.
C: I believe the lead singer of The Lumineers (Wesley Schultz) mentioned in an interview that performing their hit song “Ho Hey” has become so automatic now, to the point where there is a sense of detachment when they play it. Do you guys ever feel the same with some of your most popular songs?
J: I think there are times when it feels that way but honestly, those are the bad shows. When you have a really great show, you feel connected to all of your songs. The goal is to get yourself in a certain headspace before every performance, to remind yourself of why you wrote your songs. You want to be blown away at the opportunity to play in front of so many people. Performing on stage, while being in that mindset is a way better feeling than almost anything else. It’s simple: connect with your songs and the audience.
The Head and The Heart will perform at the Corona Theatre on March 29. Admission is $32.
Montreal four-piece collective Gisele Quartet release their debut album Roger on Dec. 3. Press photo.
Think of a blend of jazz and rock. Add some political speeches about influential figures like Martin Luther King…and there you have it, folks. Welcome to the Gisèle Quartet.
Montreal four-piece collective Gisele Quartet release their debut album Roger on Dec. 3. Press photo.
With beautiful melodies, political themes and crunchy chords, the band’s first album, Roger, is the perfect kind of music to listen to if you are in the mood for good, no-nonsense jazz.
“We are four musicians, and the fun part of this project is that we are all friends,” said, one of the musicians, Louis Beaudoin. “I play electric guitar, Dave Croteau is on drums, Alex Dodier performs on the saxophone and Miriam Pilette plays guitar.”
The four musicians, three of whom live together, thrive on their friendship and maintain it is crucial to let their music reflect just that.
“When you play an instrument, I believe the instrument is an extension of yourself,” posited Beaudoin. “As such, you need to really connect with others in a band. Luckily for us, we get along very well. We are very honest with one another too. If we think something needs to be improved, we say it candidly.”
Influenced by musicians such as Chris Potter, Kneebody, Medeski Martin & Wood and King Crimson, Beaudoin acknowledged that the quartet’s music is heavily nuanced by other musical giants.
“We like to listen to a wide variety of music. We listen to [Dmitri] Shostakovich just as much as we listen to rap. We don’t like to have explicit references to other musicians, but if you listen closely to our album, you will hear sounds that will remind you of other composers,” said the guitarist.
Another influence, though perhaps not musical, manifests itself in the band name. The name of the quartet has personal connotations for one of its members.
“We decided to name our quartet after my grandmother, Gisèle, who is still living and is very excited that we named ourselves after her. She has a special place in my life,” explained Beaudoin.
Making their first album was a challenge, but a rewarding one for the band who prefers being on stage rather than in the studio. According to Beaudoin, expressing themselves in front of an audience allows for a deeper connection with the music, one not necessarily achieved while in a controlled environment.
“When you perform, you can improvise, you can let go a bit, you can really sink into the music. When you record, you are more tight, more restrained. It’s hard recording yourself for the first time and trying not to make any mistakes,” he added.
The titles of their songs are particularly comedic. Mostly in French, the titles take on a lighter tone.
“Since our work is all instrumental, we decided to have some fun with the titles of the songs,” said Beaudoin, who usually is responsible for the made-from-scratch genesis of a song. “We have funny titles such as Littérature sous-marine (Underwater literature) and J’aurais pu être un dauphinmais j’aurais jamais lu Camus (I Could Have Been a Dolphin but I Would Never Have Read Camus).”
Despite the group’s achievements thus far, the idea of making money off of music is not their priority since they all have other jobs and alternate sources of income.
“Although we are all trained professionally at universities, we have other projects on the go. Being a musician is hardly easy, let me say that. But we are not really interested in making money. What we are interested in is transferring our energy to the audience. That is what counts. The 10-second high you get on stage when everything clicks…that is what counts. It’s almost like a drug. We need that 10-second feeling.”
Though he is sure of what his music represents, when asked about the future, Beaudoin shrugged, almost unconcerned.
“We are more of a creative artistic group, meaning that we live primarily for the music, not for what tomorrow brings. Miriam is the best at organizing ourselves. That said, we are planning on going on a tour, going to places like Quebec City and Saguenay.”
The Gisèle Quartet performs at Le Labo on 552 Jarry St. on Dec. 3 at 7 p.m.
