Category: Music

Live music shows

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N.32 Of leadership, dance and tables

One of these Sundays, a couple of friends and I went to help our common pal, Phantom, for his dance event. The Tribes War Battle 5.

We do the build up, tear down, video and photography.
I’m on photographer duty.

Dance offers a new challenge that I dig. The dynamic movements push me deep into the present moment in order to capture the illusive ‘’perfect shot’’.

It starts with the children category. Most of them are Phantom’s students.

The ambiance is family friendly and devoid of judgment.
The kids uncover their best moves in front of the public.
For most, it is their first dance battle.

The music rages on and Phantom is the MC.
A little girl ventures on the floor. She twists and turns to the style of brukup.

At the mic, Phantom says ‘’yeah! let’s go! it’s your body. It’s your music!’’

The moment got inscribed into my memory.

A phrase so simple yet so strong.
A true example of positive leadership that empowers children.
It moved me.

That’s the kind of action our world needs.
It’s famished for it.

We all want to be free
We all want to be seen and accepted
We all want to thrive in a sane environment filled with care.

Most of us did not grow up in that type of world.
But, we can offer it to others who follow in our footsteps.
It is a choice we can make.

All in all, I believe true richness is the one we give away freely.
A sort of energy that grows the more we share it.

That’s the type of abundance that interests me truly.

The impact we have on our environment is surprising. None of us is a lonely island in the middle of sea. We are interconnected whether we know it or not.

I’m at this point in my life where I decide to nourish what surrounds me with joy, acceptance, compassion and love. In terms of ‘’shareable richness’’ I have the honor and gratitude to consider myself a very rich man.

All of this reminds me of a story a percussionist friend of mine told me, one late night, after a gig. It goes like this:

‘’I was in the States for skating and one of my bro was a well known DJ in the area.
He gave DJ classes to young guys from the hood.

One night, at the club, the place was packed and my buddy was the headliner.
During his set, he gives the reins to his student so that he makes a couple of beats and soaks up the experience. The kid obviously has talent.

Meanwhile, he comes to hang with us by the side of the stage.

We chill and some guy asks him: ‘’aren’t you afraid he’s going to steal your crowd? Everybody is here for you, you should enjoy it, don’t you think?’’

To which my bro responded
‘’No man, I ain’t afraid. There’s enough food for everybody on the table’’

Sometimes the simplest phrases are those that are most impactful.

‘’There’s enough food for everyone on the table’’
‘’It’s your body. It’s your music’’

I thank you for the positive leadership my friends!
I’ll do my best to give back all those riches.

AHO!

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N.31 In the Mouth of Living

There are some, who, after a long day, go back home for the purpose of staring into a t.v screen. But us, we go into an old church to make contemporary dance and music.

To each his/her own life.

I season Mathie’s arm aerobics with my non-tonal guitar playing. It’s all a question of dynamics, tone and rhythms. Notes are not so important.

Rafa slams the praying kneelers to the ground with fervor. I drag a chair across the floor for its unique squeak quality and Alex drops noise pads of his own making. Christian shouts into the snare drum. Rhythmicality is optional.

The dancers share temporary stories, wordlessly expressed. They express the spaciality of the church, its natural reverb and our nameless music.
The scripted choreography is non-existing.

It’s total freedom.

Devoid of judgments or second thoughts, we thrive on each other’s inspirations.
Within the confines of this evening, there are no creative limitations.

It’s a visceral celebration of our fundamental freedom of being.
Time dissipates in an ocean of sounds and corporality.

For the first edition, I’m there as a photographer. The perfect opportunity to hone my experimental photography. I let the flow of the moment take over.

At the second one, I am standing upright on one of the mass benches. Guitar in hand, I get inspired by impromptu movements that manifests in my line of sight.

A thought passes through me.
‘’I’d do that of my Life, it makes me so happy’’

This is the kind of thing that I love deeply. I couldn’t do any of it outside of Montréal, city of artists.

Well well well, matter of factly, that’s exactly what I am currently doing with friends I appreciate. Life is well tailored.

Good place, good moment in time and good team.

All of it in an old chapel turned into a center for social and cultural organisms.

There are intangible riches in this world.
It’s not with experimental art that I’ll be able to buy a house by the sea but it sure fills my heart with an untamed sense of celebratory gratitude.

How great it is to be alive!

The other day, during a literary quest at the national public library, I stumble upon a stand bearing the name ‘’talk to an elderly for 25 cents’’

An old guy with gray hair is sitting on a stool. Our eyes meet.

‘’What is this?’’ I ask
‘’Well, sit and find out’’ he says.

‘’what’s your name?’’
‘’Hervey, and you?
‘’Simon’’

We discuss anything and everything in between for a moment. I ask him what has been his life filled with.

Hervey is 77 years old. Father of 3.
He trains everyday. He’s been happily married for 48 years.

48 years…

And to think that, myself, I haven’t retained an intimate relationship for more than 9 months. My curiosity pushes me to ask ‘’how does one maintain an intimate relationship sane and thriving for 48 years?’’

‘’It’s quite simple, you’ve got to have three lives: yours, hers and ours’’

He begins to explain that there must be enough similarities and differences between the two for the relation to remain sparkly throughout the years.

He loves sports
She just started the gym, at 77 years old.

He is very social
She prefers books

Both are passionate about cooking
Both were already parents when they met

You can’t be afraid of trying and failing, he tells me. Constant learning keeps you young and happy.

After our exchange, I put a dollar in the donation jar and say
‘’here’s a dollar, that’ll pay for the next person’’

‘’That is one of the most beautiful things to do in this world’’ he says.
‘’Life is made in such a way that giving and helping without conditions always comes back around. And not necessarily in the ways you’d expect. It is bound to happen. I did it all my life, to pay for the next guy and render services without counting. My life has truly been a profound beauty because of it.’’

‘’Thanks Hervey, I needed to hear that today’’

I get up from my seat.
I shake his hand and truck’ on down the road with a smile on my heart.

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N.30 Another Goodbye

I can smell it.
The carcass of whom I used to be.
There’s a lingering. A faint but unmistakable vapor all around. I let it pass.
Old memories resurface. Old ways of being come to the window.
Outside gazing inside.
I hear a tap.
They want to come back in and play but winter is here; no windows shall be opened today.

Last week, I found myself running around trying to make things happen. Pulling a broad array of strings in the hopes of creating a grand tapestry. Just like the old days. Just like the life I left for dead about a year ago.

I recall my time in Kerala. On the roof of where I died. I caress the memory of when all of me came to a stop. That inner voice whispering ‘’aren’t you sick and tired of all these stories?’’

Personal tales of who, why and what we are have a tendency to linger and they hang around the place for a while. On the prowl for an opening. A way to ease back in.
A gift to neverendingly exercise the freedom of choice.

But I come bearing news. Tired of these stories, I choose to live without em.
Emptiness fits me like a well tailored glove.

And so I find myself at Le Verre Bouteille for an evening of musical ‘’carte blanche’’.
Jean Flex on piano, Salomé Perli on violin and Charles Viguerie on sound treatment.

There’s a lot that can be said on the subject of great music, classy lights and a smoke machine. It’s the stuff of dreams. Huffin’ and puffin’ in and out of states of consciousness.

A Freshness imbues the melodies. The tone is warm. The rhythm is slow and intentional.
Tonight is one last goodbye for JeanFlex who goes back to the old land of France on the morrow.

One last gig for the road.

I can’t help but swim into the atmosphere of smoky emotional jazz. I am reminded of the farewells into new beginnings and the rebirths of everyday living.

As weird as this may sound on paper: the realness of this tender sliver of time and space is immensely tangible. I could hold it in my hands if I wanted to.

Standing at the precipice of a blank page, the ink is eager to roll the ball and splanter between the lines drawn by existence.

But, there’s a waiting.
Tonight, I have the honor to be immersed by that in-between space.

A good friend leaves
Another walks in the door

I remain firmly rooted on the bar stool, painting away words of what is, what could be and what may never come to pass.

The tapestry of Life is already so overwhelmingly grandiose, I remember to pay attention to all the gifts that were here first and chase a little less what is just out of reach.

With humility and grace, I am reminded, once again, the greatest of all adventures is the present moment and the gratitude of simply being.

Farewell to you my friend, may the road ahead bequest forth joy and exciting discoveries!

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N.29 Montreal by Night


The cold season is beginning.
Sunset is at 4 p.m.

It’s the perfect time of year for vampires and nightlife lovers who work the next day: night starts at 6 p.m.
However, the show starts at 9 p.m so it’s a shame for your sleep.


The unique sound of the Bonze Trio gives you jitters like too much coffee.
With unshackled creative flow, the band mixes jazz, drum n’ bass, funk, modern music, and smoldering rock.

A trio that, as we say in my language, “goddamn this rocks!.”
Trying to count the time signatures is enough to make your cranium go bald.

Montreal at night is a world where anything is possible.
If the band is good, you can travel across the universe for 20 bucks.

Le Bonze Trio are not only unparalleled university musicians who bounce musical ideas off of each other, but also great friends. You can tell by the jokes that brilliantly fill the gaps between songs.

When winter is in full swing, you have to brave the cold, the slush, and seasonal fatigue to get to the concert hall. You hesitate to leave your house, but once you’re there, you don’t regret it.

Life is short, and I intend to reap the rewards of my Montreal artistic culture.
Without our artists, Montreal’s nightlife could be summed up to “meh.” Without an audience to share their passions with, they might as well stay in their jam space jamming with friends.

Don’t forget to go cheer on and enjoy what’s happening within the walls of our theaters after the sun has set.

If you’re hesitant to go out, do as our artists do in winter: you’ll sleep in February.
Unless you’re in college, in which case you never sleep, but that’s another story.

Please excuse me for a moment, I must put down my pencil in exchange for an intoxicating and energetic dance to the sounds of drum n’ bass playing behind me.

I’ll be back, wait for me!

Well, what had to happen happened.
When you dance too much, you forget to write.
What do you do in that case?
You go back to dancing the next day.

From one universe to another, I find myself in an African trance with DJ Afrofoly and Gotta Lago on percussion.

At the conservatory of music of Montreal, I find myself at an ecstatic dance party.
My camera and pencil are my passes to Montreal’s cultural nightlife.

Between two stiff dance moves, I whip out my camera and capture the heat of the action. Tonight, I’m a picture taking cowboy!

From the balafon and African songs to solidly modern beats,
It’s a blend of ages.

From yesterday to today, music is found in the company of dance.
It is the perfect ambassador of trance.

It’s easier to go far away when a rhythm keeps us firmly rooted.
It’s like a tree. The taller it grows toward the sky, the deeper its roots spread into the ground.

The better the music,
the more passionate the dance.

Well, that’s it. You’ll have to excuse me, I must once again put down my pen and leave you to your business. Sometimes, after a Saturday night dance session that lasts until 11 p.m., the best show in town is going home to sleep.

Ciao amigos!

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N.28 Of bafflements, ignorance and bliss

And so, being the author of my own story, a clean page stares back at me with a playful attitude. There is a palpable energy in the air, I can feel it. The far across the world travels are over for now but the call for adventure still resonates within my heart.

Quite naively, I had envisioned travelling as being a grand transformative experience of fireworks and jawdropping moments. Only to discover that these kinds of stories only came as a spice. A little sprinkle here and there, no more, no less.

What truly took me by surprise is the regular non-spectacular daily life that seemed to be on full throttle everywhere I went.

The local people living their lives were not that different from my travelling day to day.
In a strange way, before my travels, I had been all over the place but while being out there in person, I quietly came back to the only place there will ever be: right here, right now.

I guess you could say it either bubbled up from within or that it hit me in the face;
the undeniability of the truth. No matter where I ramble on to, I am here, now.

You could venture out on saying that my travels ended right there.
Or you could say they just began.
Both are the same, really.

I find language to be confusing when it comes time to share what is of the whole ‘’one’’ life domain. An intellectual dissection of the matter is far from adequate and the wisdom of the heart can only be expressed by imagery or meaningful simplicity.

In the past, I’ve truly enjoyed the zen approach to story telling.
Simple tales, profound meaning.

‘’The black coffee is warm. The cup is white’’

They make no sense if you gloss over them while trying to understand the meaning.
There is no meaning.
Intellectual understanding is overrated.

Life is so mind boggingly vast, interconnected, synchronistic and rich, never shall it fit into a box. Pardon my language but to hell with the boxes. Throw that ol’ dried up shit into the garbage and embrace the infinity of being alive.

I’ve dedicated my life to music and if the need arises, I can explain the nooks and crannies of why I do it. But this only came as a response to the age old question: ‘’what’s your real job?’’

I’ve learned to compassionately respond to a human baffled by the fact that someone may dedicate his or her life to something other than money.

Ignorance is to be handled with care and a great amount of tact. We can either help it blossom into wisdom or it can turn rabid and bite back quite aggressively.

Ignorance is like a wounded, scared and stressed out animal looking to survive.
Compassion trumps all other avenues.

All this to say that, in truth, Music is such a mystery to me, I am beyond clueless about all of it. At this point in my journey, Music and Life are one and the same.
And boy, ain’t that river deep and wide!

Well, I’ll quit my ramblings for now.
I’m sure you’ve got places to be.

Bobcat ‘’The clueless’’ reporting for duty

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N.27 Out on a Stroll

And so, we don’t sleep for long in the grand city of Montreal. I’ve only been back only for a couple of days and it’s about time for a stroll. Montreal is a city that beats to a ceaseless rhythm of more and too fast. If you’re here, get into it and learn to swim the current.

Or else, the place loses its pull, in my opinion.

The cultural life is vast, diverse and forever expanding. There’s always a thing happening somewhere and if you’re not vaccinated for it, you can catch the ‘’fomo’’ easily.
Don’t forget to wash your hands folks!

But most of all, embrace what you can and forget about the rest.

I love the cold season in Montreal. For me, these are the months I gig the most and go out to meet old and new friends on the regular. On this late October evening, first stop is at a vernissage on Marie-Anne at Art Gallery 1040.

My friend Jocelyn Renouf is presenting a series of oil painting portraits.
As he tells me, he does it in the ‘’Alla Prima‘’ style which means the painting is a one sitting adventure. The oil remains fresh throughout and spreads like butter, making the ordeal a fulfillingly organic journey.

As I go around from painting to painting, taking in the craftsmanship, creativity and passion into my heart for further usage, one of them catches my attention more than the rest.

Nadya looks deep into me. As I let myself melt into her eyes, I can’t help but get the feeling that she is about to move and introduce herself to me. It seems as though she is here with me in the room, alive.

She proudly proclaims: ‘’I exist, do you?’’

‘’Ye Nadya, I also exist, thank you for noticing’’


After a little shmoozing with the folks, the clock rings me back to it’s time to head out for the main course of the evening: a music concert at ye ol’ Quai des Brumes.

The venue celebrates its 40th birthday in October. It is one of my favorite places in the city. The music is dandy, the staff is warm and I often randomly meet lots of friends just hanging around the bar after dusk.

Tonight is Dominique Poirier’s album release by the name of ‘’Onomatopée’’.
He rips the accordion like no other, accompanied by a jazz rhythm section and a string quartet. The creativity is tangible and it sure quenches my thirst for some proper live music.

I’ll share with you my little secret. For some of us, going to shows is a regular occurrence. The only way I can economically do that is as an exchange: I take photos and I get in for free.

Hence being at the fulcrum of the greatest place in the world: at a concert while being of service. Oh man, I love my life.

From a ballad reminiscent of old French songs, to modern classical, to liberated jazz, the orchestra moves seamlessly from one musical world to another, brilliantly juggling the transitions.

The talent is undeniable; the waves of sound sweep me away in a photographic trance. Being a musician myself, I can anticipate where I’ll be able to capture what’s known as a “stank face”—that moment when the music is so good that the facial muscles tense up like a steak receiving an excessive electrical shock.


Dominique is one of my favorite musicians in Montreal.

With his unparalleled versatility and contagious passion, it’s always a great pleasure to hear him play and to jam with him occasionally.

He was the first person I’ve ever heard use effects like the wah-wah on an accordion.
It was about time someone thought of it!

From a solo song to a jazz quartet oozing with the ferocity of searching for the next note, to the Bazar Quartet’s modern classical approach, the band moves seamlessly from one form to another, leaving us on the edge of our seats, unsure of what the group’s next iteration will be.

Then comes a time when I stop taking photos. I have enough for now.

I let myself be carried away by the intoxicating musical maelstrom towards another cold season in Montreal. It’s pure pleasure to return at the beginning of winter and immerse myself in yet another unparalleled spectacle.

Bobcat is back, stay tuned for more metropolitan adventures!

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N.12 Of arts, coffee and longings


Just arrived in Oaxaca city yesterday around 4pm. Found my hostel and went for a stroll into town. I have easily seen more visual art in my evening walk than a whole month in Montréal.

This is a thriving culture. I’ve been told so many times before.
World famous for its food and art. My Mexican friend told me the roots of this place are warrior culture. The inhabitants are fervent towards demonstrations and protests.
I can attest by the sound of a marching band at 8 in the morning, coming from the park nearby.

And so, an ignorant man’s sight seeing begins. I’m slowly going farther and farther away, trying to remember the way back. If I get my cell phone out for the map, I lose.
That’s the game I play.

If I lose, I owe the winner a coffee.
If I win, I get a coffee.

It’s a geographical awareness adventure that usually ends with grinding teeth.
(you know… the coffee…)

I’m in a good mood so I’ll go to a park near where there are lots of passersby and whip out yé ol’ banjo. Bobcat is gon’ try to make some friends. Wish me luck!

One afternoon later…

Ok, so, even though this city is clearly one of a kind, it somehow feels like all other tourist places. The recipe changes but the dish remains the same.

I long for silence and space.
I’m at this point in my life where I want the profundity of quietness to engulf me in her arms.

I long for a fire under the stars
I long to play harmonica in the woods
I long for rivers and mountains

Keep your fancy restaurants and parties.
I’ll grab a few nuts, 2 bananas and head out to the valleys
where the sky and the earth make love daily

I long to be in tune with the rhythms of nature, not the city’s tempo.

Now, that’s my own personal point of view at the moment.
If you dig art and gorgeous food, you’ve got to come to Oaxaca city.
You will not regret it.

As for myself, you’ll find me somewhere in the desert gazing at the galaxies, burning a few twigs and dried grass.

To each his/her own adventure!

P.s: Later that night, I came upon a concert by a master musician by the name of Hector Diaz. A guitarist like no other. I was glued to my chair for 3 hours straight, mesmerized by the sheer grandiosity. That’s one thing cities tend to have in common: Great Musicians.

Gotta give her that
Gotta give her that

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N.5 Musicians

Ah musicians!

What would this world be without them?
Who would make people dance and expand?
Who else could offer the profoundness that you experience while you listen to music you love?

Tell me honestly, are you ever as blissful in your regular life as you would dancing like crazy at a concert?

Probably not.

And so there I was in my room, relaxing, when the sudden sounds of live music beckoned me to it. Mesmerized by its rhythms, I became a puppet. A tender hand pulled my strings towards the band.

The guitar player is very good.
He plays bass and guitar at the same time, on the same instrument.
I do the same but man does that guy rips it like no other!
It took me a solid five minutes to figure out there was no ‘’real’’ bass player in the house.

A True Master.

What a joy to be barefoot at night, nursed by live music on the open terrace of a local bar.

Is there anything more to life?
At this particular moment, no, there isn’t.

You’ll have to excuse me,
I have to exchange the pen and paper for the feet and the dance floor.

So long, friends!