Tag: jazz

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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.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!