. Keeley Braunstein-Black editor@stylusmagazine ca
Maggie A . Clark assistanteditor@stylusmagazine .ca
Art Director Kelly Campbell design@stylusmagazine ca
Cover Art .
Pink Panda
Advertising Contact Rob Schmidt manager@ckuw ca
Print by JRS Print Services . . . 204-232-3558
Contributors
Sabbir Hossain
Kat Kolesar
Noah Cain
Mykhailo Vil’yamson
Bradi Breckman Seraphine Crowe
Stylus is published bi–monthly by CKUW 95 9 FM, with a circulation of 2,500 Stylus serves as the program guide to 95 9FM CKUW and will reflect the many musical communities it supports within Winnipeg and beyond Stylus strives to provide coverage of music that is not normally written about in the mainstream media Stylus acts as a vehicle for the work of new writers, photographers and artists, including members of the University of Winnipeg, of CKUW and of the Winnipeg community at large Stylus reserves the right to refuse to print material, specifically, that of a racist, homophobic or sexist nature All submissions may be edited and become the property of Stylus All opinions expressed in Stylus are those of the contributors and do not necessarily reflect those of the editors Contributions in the form of articles, reviews, letters, photos and graphics are welcome and should be sent with contact information to:
Stylus Magazine
Bulman Student Centre, University of Winnipeg 515 Portage Avenue, Winnipeg, MB, R3B 2E9 Phone: 204-786-9785, Fax: 204-783-7080
Writing submissions: editor@stylusmagazine ca Graphics submissions: design@stylusmagazine ca
www .stylusmagazine .ca
Contributions will be accepted in the body of an email No attachments please All submissions may be edited and become the property of Stylus Unauthorized reproduction of any portion of Stylus is strongly discouraged without the
On the Cover
Pink Panda (they/she) is a street artist and painter known for bold colours and intricate line work that blend pop culture, whimsical nature, and fantastical creatures. Inspired by urban art, music, and cartoons, their work reflects a journey of self-exploration and connection to emotions and Chinese heritage. In warmer months, they longboard around Winnipeg, leaving chalk art and creating live “pop-up” painting installations— ephemeral pieces rooted in their mantra: Be in the moment.
They’ve held two solo exhibitions, participated in several group shows, and have a new solo show coming June 2025 at Matter Queer Space Manitoba Inc. Beyond galleries, Pink Panda engages audiences of all ages as a guest artist at schools, camps, and events, and runs inclusive summer spray paint workshops that foster creativity in a vibrant, welcoming space.
See more at pinkpanda.ca and follow their art journey on Instagram and Facebook @theartofpinkpanda.
17
Blah Blah Blah
Big Loser + Jamboree + CEC May 2 at Public Domain *** Replacemats vs Nearvana May 3 at Times Change(d) *** Moses Mayes May 4 at Side Stage ***Jon Bryant May 6 at Side Stage *** The Codas May 7 at Side Stage *** Romi Mayes May 8 at Times Change(d) *** MOONBEAN May 9 at Public Domain *** FOLK IT! - At Home Routes Fundraiser May 10 at the West End Cultural Centre *** Tommyphyll + Guilty Sleep + Direct Hit No Damage May 10 at Public Domain *** Danger Box May 13 at Sidestage *** Art of Attrition May 14 at Sidestage *** Garret Mason May 15 at Times Change(d) *** Sam Singer and the Beautiful Movers May 17 at Times Change(d) ***
Live Music Happenings
Rock For Pride Benefit for Sunshine House May 17 at Sidestage *** Andrea Macasaet May 18 at the West End Cultural Centre *** DHID +Ultreamega + Claire Therese & the Lockdown May 23 at Sidestage ***We’re Only Here For The Snacks May 25 at the West End Cultural Centre *** Slow Leaves May 28 at Sidestage *** Meadows May 30 at Public Domain *** Lipstick 45 May 30 at Sidestage *** BA Johnson May 31 at Times Change(d) ***
FLAMENCO June 2 at the West End Cultural Centre *** Mark Reeves June 6 at Blue Note Park at Times Change(d) *** Love Letters June 15 at Sidestage *** Yellow Choklit June 21 at Sidestage *** Witch Hazel June 27 at Sidestage ***
Artist Spotlight: CEC
SABBIR HOSSAIN
I had the privilege of getting in touch with artist/producer CEC through a virtual meeting. CEC came back from Los Angeles after working on writing credits for other artists, and I was glad to finally have a full-on interaction with them - especially after briefly speaking with them after their set at the Forks Market.
Stylus: Being from Winnipeg, what part of your upbringing do you take the most pride in — especially considering you had lived in the US and Spain as well?
CEC: Since moving back to Winnipeg last spring, I’ve gained a lot more pride immersing myself in the scene. Because Winnipeg is different in that it’s super supportive. There is a big arts hub that’s perfect in that it’s cheap enough for artists to live but also not much else around in terms of other cities. So, I feel like a lot of people move to Winnipeg from central and western Canada. Also, Manitoba Film and Music — I just got back from LA on a Manitoba Music trip and there’s a lot of support for artists here. What’s funny is that I lived in small-towns and cities that would’ve been smaller than Winnipeg. I wasn’t really “being an artist” when I was in these other places. The great thing is that I feel like I’ve done a lot of talking to Americans lately and it seems like we just have a lot more funding, arts grants, and
Festivals:
MANITOBA METALFEST May 9-10 at the Park Theatre * Sidestage
MISSED CALLSFEST May 30-31 at the Handsome Daughter
ELLICE STREET FESTIVAL May 30-31 - Ellice St by the West End Cultural Centre
PRIDE May 23 to June 1
WINNIPEG PUNK FEST July 18 at Sidestage
public resources. Whereas there, you gotta hustle and make it on your own and over here it seems like there’s a lot more support which contributes to the vibrant scene.
Stylus: People are attracted to authenticity and confidence comes from expressing their true selves. Was it always that way for you from the getgo or how did that transition to confidence play out for you?
CEC: I think music has been a way for me to also have that authenticity. I had a singer/songwriter folk project before this one, and it’s interesting to see how the art changes with you, how your skills change, who you meet, and how that’s reflected in your art. I’ve been doing this for a while and as you get older you get more confidence in yourself. Art is a space that allows me to explore myself and contribute to my life and relationships.
Stylus: When you’re crafting a song, do you ever carry a vision of who this song will be listened to by, or are your songs meant for you first — and then the audience?
CEC: I think it usually starts off as influenced by outside factors, but when I’m writing it’s usually me processing my thoughts and it’s usually written for myself, or if I’m speaking to someone, it’s written towards that person. With “Four Walls” (an unreleased song), it started off as a folk song and it really changed. But usually, first of all, it’s for me, and once I get that first stage of writing out, then I adjust it thinking about who’s gonna listen to it. Some people will like it, and some people won’t. As long as I like it, I think that’s the important thing. I don’t think it’d be inauthentic for me [to start the process envisioning the listener first]. It’d be a fun experiment and I like to try different styles of writing too and it’s not always a self-narrative. Sometimes I write from other people’s perspective or [a work of] fiction. I’m not someone that likes to limit myself in how I go about writing things.
Stylus: As a joke, you told the crowd to stream your songs on streaming platforms ’cause you’d get $0.003, according to the streaming pay-out. What’s your take on the industry at the moment in the streaming era, and what advice did you learn the hard way that you wanted to share for upcoming artists?
CEC: I think that modes of listening to music change but something that never changes is having an audience and the point of music being in connecting with people, so as long as that’s the focus then that’s really what’s important. I’m not making money from streaming. Most artists aren’t making money from streaming platforms. Something I’ve been thinking about recently is, like, OK, let’s say I’m getting to a point in my career where [I
get added] to a Spotify Canada editorial playlist and then I need to be like “Thank you, Spotify!” It’s hard trying to find a balance of not putting my worth in corporations that are making all this money off the backs of creatives and valuing the personal relationships with my audience instead. As you continue to work with people that are more successful, it’s easy to build people up in your head but then when you meet them you realize everybody’s literally just people. No matter if I’m in a room with some musicians in LA or in Winnipeg, you can find people doing amazing stuff anywhere.
Stylus: How’d you initially get into being an artist?
CEC: I think it starts by really doing
the work and later on you can put titles on things. I’d been playing covers for many years and then I started to write my own stuff. As soon as I wanted to package everything together and find a way to make a career out of it, [that] is when I transitioned to CEC or being an artist. I think whether you put a name to it or not, a lot of people are artists and a lot of people are creative. So even before I was CEC, I was still an artist. I honestly don’t know anyone who would be labeled [before doing] the work. People often get into things slowly.
Stylus: How can you tell that a particular track is “the one” as opposed to a “throwaway”?
CEC: I want to say that if it’s some -
thing that I keep replaying in my head, [that’s the one], but honestly sometimes it’s the opposite. Sometimes the ones I really can’t stand [are the songs that] keep replaying in my head. I think usually I just know if I like something that I make versus if I don’t. Sometimes things feel corny, and there’s a lot of editing in that too. Sometimes songs want to come out of you and other times you really have to tease it out. But often I look to other people too. They won’t always agree with what I think, but that’s the thing: as soon as you put music out there, it’s no longer yours. Every listener has their experience with your music, so what [I think] is a “good” song [will differ from] what other people like. It’s fun when they coincide, but usually it’s a mix of my opinion and opinions of people that I trust.
Stylus: When writing a song, what does the process look like [for composing the] instrumental, lyrics, etc.? Does the original idea translate to the vision you had, or does it tend to differ?
CEC: I usually bring out my guitar to write songs and I’ll write the melody, lyrics, and some chords at the same time. Usually it starts pretty stripped. From that nucleus of a song to the final version, there’s hundreds and hundreds of possibilities of the direction it could’ve gone. It could turn into a country song, or gospel song, it could go so many ways and that’s what’s exciting and also sometimes nerveracking going into production — you never know how you’re feeling that day and how that’s going to influence where the sound goes. I didn’t realize until a couple years ago that there were lyric-heavy and instrumental-heavy listeners. I’m definitely both. It’s hard for me to like a song if I really dislike the lyrics, but I think the quickest turn-off is if I dislike the instrumental. For me personally, because I’m creating an entire thing, I usually start with
lyrics, but I think they’re both super important.
Stylus: What do you do when you’re not playing music?
CEC: I am a hockey player. That’s my biggest non-music thing. For a long time it’s taken up more of my life than music. I recently tore up my ACL [and] meniscus and had surgery for that and I haven’t been playing in the last couple of months. [The recovery] is a long process, nine months to a year. That’s also why I was living in Spain and the States and in Ottawa for the last eight years — it’s because I’ve been playing hockey in those places. I [also] really like spending time outside. I’m a huge park goer. It really changed when I moved to Spain because they don’t have a lot of green spaces but their lifestyle is a lot slower. So I like to bring that slow lifestyle to North America when I’m living here and spend a lot of slow time in parks. I like to write letters [to pen pals] and I find that fun — a really slow way of communication.
Stylus: Do you have any rituals or superstitions before a session or show?
CEC: I like to check in with everybody real quickly to make sure that we’re doing OK. I’ve only recently started going to studio sessions. I’ve definitely recently become a tea drinker, which is really lovely. And I like to sit with myself to just calm myself down for a minute. Sometimes I can get a bit anxious and it’s hard to remind myself that not everything is so serious. Music is really fun and the reason why I started doing it in the first place is because I love it.
Stylus: What’s one song by someone else that you wished was made by you?
CEC: This is so hard, I read that question and I looked through and was like “what?” I feel like it would have to be something [different from what]
I make. I think I’m gonna choose — oh my goodness, I just changed it up in my head — maybe Jaco Pastorius’ “Portrait of Tracy” on [his self-titled] album, then turned into “Rain” by SWV, then turned into “Rain” by the Sunday Service Choir. [My answer] went through so many different [iterations] — it’s so crazy. That’s the hardest question you’ve asked all day.
Stylus: I read in your Manitoba Music profile that you were heavily influenced by Frank Ocean. Are you team Blonde or Channel Orange?
CEC: I think this is gonna be controversial, but because I started listening to Frank Ocean in 2016, I think Blonde is super influential to me. I understand why people are [into] Channel Orange. I think because Blonde was my first, and also [because that was] such a pivotal time in my life — I was going into college in the States and moving away from home for the first time. There’s so many outside factors that [can] influence listeners. I could listen to an album at one point in my life and it could mean something completely different when I’m listening to it at a different point in my life. So that’s why I’m “team Blonde,” but I think I’m just “team Frank” in general.
Stylus: What can we expect from you in the foreseeable future?
CEC: I’ve been doing a ton of co-writing and collaborating recently. The first song to come out of it is coming out on May 1. It’s called “Four Walls” and I wrote it with Roman Clarke. It was a really fun experience getting to work that muscle of collaboration, cowriting and co-producing it together. My friend Iman and I just shot the art for it yesterday [March 14]. It features some drums from No Fun’s Club’s sample pack — that was really fun [as well]. Then I am going on tour in May. I have a show at the Leaf on April 30 for After Dark.
Photo Feature: CKUW FunDrive Show
Death Cassette, Age of Self, Jug
PHOTOS BY KAT KOLESAR, FRAGXILE PHOTOS
Time Out of Time — Festival du Voyageur 2025
WORDS AND PHOTOS BY NOAH CAIN
“[T]he human social animal still does not have a more significant way to feel in tune with his world than to partake in the special reality of the Festival, and celebrate life in its ‘time out of time.’” –Alessandro Falassi, “Festival: Definition and Morphology,” Time Out of Time: Essays on the Festival
*
The calendar turns at the end of another endless Winnipeg January. The tariffs kick in. Wab stands his ground. The Canadian flag returns to Facebook banners and Instagram stories. The cold snap briefly breaks. The tariffs pause. The cold snaps back.
I scream for joy in a sports bar on the eve of Western Canada’s largest winter festival as Mitch Marner rips the overtime winner past Swedish goalie Filip Gustavsson in game one of the 4 Nations Face-Off.
Two nights later, Friday, in a zone of old encampments near the confluence of the Assiniboine and the Red in what is now called Whittier Park, much has been done to prepare for our arrival. In Tente Forest, parkas hang from clips holding up the side walls of the tent and gather in piles on the woodchip floor. I grab a Hé Ho! Festi Broue and a Caribou and catch up with the friends who flew in from Vancouver and Toronto, drawn not by the weather, but the specific magic of St. Boniface on Louis Riel Day weekend.
The creeping awareness that I’m talking too much. That I’m too far from the stage to really experience the Tired Cossack set I had been looking forward to. That the night is already drifting away.
So I slink through the crowd toward the stage. I’m a fucking work of art. I am hit by his voice. I won’t suffer ’til I’m old. Sink into the song. One day I’ll lay my head down. It gathers in my chest. One day I’ll lay my head down. Release it to the air.
The set ends. I gladhand a while. Rally the squad and shuffle through the cold to Cabane à Sucre. Snake into the thick of it. I am fueled by Les G-Strings, the Franco-Manitobain party rockers whose mix of energetic fiddle music and CanCon bangers really gets the people going. The fiddler peacocks across the stage. The front man beams through frequent costume changes, one moment in a loose blouse and steel vest frottoir, and in the next, tarps off beneath a beaded suede jacket. They have us swaying arm in arm. Belting Nickelback lyrics we’ve all somehow absorbed.
And then it’s over. We hug goodbye and disperse into the cold dark night.
*
Fast forward to the next Thursday. The night of the 4 Nations final. Canada–US. Tie game. At second intermission, rush to Whittier Park for Bush Lotus. I’m a bit distracted at first, checking to see if it’s still 2–2 a little too frequently. And then the Telecaster rises, soloing above the driving bass and her urgent voice explores the double-edged desire to run away from everything. I’m pulled into the momentum of the moment. The set ends and I watch the end of regulation on my phone leaning over a Tente Forest picnic table. Still tied, I run back to the vehicle. Make it home for overtime puck drop. For Binnington stepping up. For McDavid
somehow left alone between the hashmarks, the puck on his stick. For the rippling twine and the massive red leaf rising over Boston.
*
The next night feels less about the music. With our friends in the massive line outside Tente Rivière Rouge, my wife and I field questions and share impressions about our recently announced year away from Winnipeg. Everyone is nice about it. It hangs a little heavy in the air. The line is moving slowly. Restless for the night to begin, not much left to say about it, we abandon the line and make our way to Tente des Neiges.
Grab a drink and bob a little, but can’t get into the house music. End up around the fire in a bigger circle. Revel in last night’s big win. Our shared hatred of the Tkachuk brothers. How fun that was to watch Crosby pass the torch to McDavid.
Drift into the big tent for the end of Neighbour Andy. Drift back out into the night. Take a break from discussing the next move to watch a train go by on the elevated tracks that skirt Whittier Park. Grab Ubers to Times Change(d).
Glad we do. Andrew Neville and the Poor Choices supply the perfect mix of outlaw country and hold-yourpartner-close love songs for us to reminisce and scheme and lean and dance cheek-to-cheek with our beloveds.
After last call, waiting for our ride on the Main Street sidewalk at the end of the night, someone says how good it feels to be warm enough in just a light jacket. I nod in solemn agreement. Another train passes. Heading west. I imagine the conductor, just leaving and longing to return.
*
The second Saturday at Festival will be my last night of the season. Feeling worn out, I go a little early to stand around the fire and process the declarations and promises made in the revelry.
Get some mini donuts and take in the most beautiful sculpture I’ve ever seen at the festival — “Libellule s’envole” — a walleye leaping for a dragonfly. The fish’s snowy head and body twist from the earth. Reflex captured. Spires of ice spray from the gap in the surface, some crested with clear orbs. Energy frozen. The dragonfly — bent sticks bound together on closer inspection
— hovers just beyond its reach. The walleye’s massive eyes, sharp teeth, and spiky dorsal fin, all made of clear ice, reflect and refract the bright light of the commons.
I am found by the folks I am meant to meet up with. I don’t feel like talking, but it’s good to be with them. We enter Tente Forest and join the many gathered for FIINN, a local family outfit I’ve heard good things about. The three brothers center stage take hold of the crowd with their harmonies, the magic blending of their voices made possible, perhaps, through some alchemy of shared genetics and histo-
ry. Their exuberance steadied and given order by the cool detachment of the guitarist and drummer, the resulting sound and energy landing somewhere between Royal Canoe and Arkells.
I’m fading big time and almost sneak away, but my wife reminds me I’ve been waiting years to see Corb Lund. Once inside, I am buoyed by the crowd and settle in for the long haul. I sing along with my favourites and bob along with the rest. At the end of my last night I am completely spent, respectfully turning down invitations to the next spot.
My wife and I shuffle the icy sidewalks of St. Boniface to our vehicle, hand in hand in light jackets, glad we answered the call of Festival du Voyageur. The call to emerge and connect despite the weight of winter. The call to give in to where a night might take you. To float, to drift. Together. Apart. Together again.
BUSH LOTUS
LIBELLULE S’ENVOLE
KEELEY BRAUNSTEIN-BLACK
Odd Doll Records is a new Winnipeg-based record label and the expansion of Misfit Music Management’s programs.
Stylus: Why did you decide to start the label?
Elise: Well, we actually have some peers in the industry that are managers who have also started a label side. And realistically, it’s just to diversify our revenue streams. In the music industry, now, you kind of have to play as many sides as possible. And I’d say especially when you live somewhere like Manitoba where there isn’t necessarily a lot of access to the greater industry, you know, we don’t have a lot of record labels here. It’s just a way for us to expand and also offer new opportunities to the artists that we already work with. And then also in the future, to be able to offer different things to artists that we don’t yet work with.
Stylus: Okay. That’s the why. And then why did you feel that this label would be important for artists in Manitoba?
Interview: Misfits and Odd Dolls
IMAGES PROVIDED BY ODD DOLL RECORDS
Elise: Partly again it’s just geographically, we’re not really located to a lot of central music hubs that have like the larger labels or the established labels like the established boutique labels. And we recognize that there’s a lot of really great talent and really great music, not just in Winnipeg, but across Western Canada, which is also under-serviced. We definitely felt like it was important to consider offering that marketing and record support.
For us, we haven’t seen a ton of women-owned labels, even in Canada, like there are a lot more now. But for us, it was really cool. To be like, wow, this isn’t happening yet here. So like, let’s try to start it. We were mentioned in [an article about] women-owned and -operated labels in Canada in RANGE. Of those [mentioned], we are sort of the baby in that article. We have a friend who has a label in Toronto called Twin Fang and she’s not in there. There are more, it was cool because we were one of seven that were featured. It was nice to rep Manitoba.
Claire: We also like talking about artist-friendly or beginner deals. Elise and I have had experience in the music industry in bands and not knowing really what we’re signing away, so, you know, we try to be really transparent about what the artist’ll receive, what we’ll receive. It’s a good stepping stone just to know what’s possible and how this partnership would work.
Elise: Yeah, like Claire said, we’ve wanted to establish something that is really open and honest and flexible and doesn’t lock artists into something that they don’t really understand. We really try to work on our deals with the artists so that it really fits them and feels comfortable for them and we explain things. We encourage them to ask questions. We want them to know what we’re actually doing on the back end too. So much of what happens in the music industry is behind the scenes and we just want to give that transparency above all.
Stylus: Is there anything else that you wanted to talk about in regards to the
label? I know you have your first artist.
Elise: Yeah, we actually have two out now. So Kelly Bado is our launch artist. And we loved doing it with Kelly because she’s such an anomaly. She’s a language minority here, she’s francophone, she’s Canadian, but she originally emigrated here from Côte d’Ivoire. We really want to be open to the music that we’re signing, meaning if we really like it, it doesn’t really matter what language it’s in. Because music transcends boundaries and language and culture.
So we thought that it was really cool to be able to have Kelly as the first artist — being like, yeah, we’re anglophones and our first artist on the label is francophone, it’s like a French record coming out. I don’t really think a lot of people would touch that. It just takes us extra long to do things like translating. And then even the way that the funding system works, it’s not always conducive to anglophones working with francophones, but that doesn’t matter to us. We want to do this because we love Kelly. We love her music and we want to support her.
Stylus: So you’re taking on additional challenges?
Elise: Yeah, yeah, exactly. We’re up for the challenge — that’s kind of our MO. That’s why the management side is called Misfit and then the label side is called Odd Doll because we don’t do things the way that everyone thinks that we should. It’s very on brand for us.
Our second artist is Kimmortal who is a queer non-binary Filipinx rapper. And I would say [that] the through line with both of these artists is that their music is more than just entertainment. It’s empowerment. They’re representing culture, they’re representing voices that need to be heard. And they’re very collaborative with
other people, and they really create community with their presence. And so for us with the label, that’s also really important. We’re less into genre and more into, like, what is this music doing beyond just being music?
Stylus: Okay, so there is no genre, at all. You could take on any kind of music.
Claire: Yeah, I echo what Elise says. We’re more about the community, the message, the feel, we put that first, and so we’re excited. We’re not putting ourselves in any boxes here.
Stylus: Do you think that’ll present any unique challenges?
Elise: I guess the only thing is that there are specific programmers on CBC or Sirius XM that work with a certain genre, but it’s really not that hard. You just have to have organized systems — okay, here are the rap people, here are the singer/songwriter people. The challenge is really just being organized and also just making sure that your network is as diverse as the artists that you’re working with.
But we’re really good at that. Claire
and I do all kinds of international trips, and we already work with artists in various genres. I think one of the really nice things about it is that our artists aren’t necessarily competing with each other. It’s not like I’m going to a radio programmer with two artists who are the same, and they have to figure out which one they’re going to slot in.
The nice thing is that we can actually expand the network and opportunities. That’s what we do. It’s not about a music genre. It’s about, like, a culture genre.
Claire: We’re just excited. We’re really excited to build in the Winnipeg music industry. We’re so proud of so many people who are creating companies, who are really trying to support a lot of local artists. We’re happy to be in the mix. We think that a lot of great stuff is coming out of Winnipeg and we’re so happy to be here and represent our hometown. Well, from my hometown. I know Elise, you’re from Calgary, but it is your hometown now.
Elise: Yeah, it’s my home now. It’s fine. I’m now from Winnipeg, so it’s cool. I like it better than Calgary.
CKUWho? Emma’s Echo
tuesdays
6:30-8AM Chamber
On March 18, 2025, Stylus joined Emma Narvey — the host of “Emma’s Echo Chamber” — live on the air to interview her for this issue’s edition of “CKUWho?”
Emma Narvey: I’m joined today in the studio by a very special guest. We have Maggie in the studio today.
Stylus: Yeah, I’m from Stylus Magazine, I’m the assistant editor. I’m here to interview you on your own show! Scott Price, the program director at CKUW, was mentioning to me a while ago that your show recently came back on the air after you returned from living in Brazil, so how long were you there?
Emma: It’s true. I lived there for two years with my girlfriend, ’cause she’s Brazilian, and then we moved to Montréal for two years. And now we’re back here and we’ll probably go to Brazil again eventually.
Stylus: Oh nice! So how is it? Give the readers of Stylus your review of the nation of Brazil!
Emma: Wow. Well, I don’t want to say
anything bad about Canada but, in my personal experience, [Brazil is] much better than Canada. The health care system is phenomenal, the weather is phenomenal, and the people! You hear lots of bad things all the time from South America, but there’s really great, warm, loving people in Brazil. It was just fabulous!
Stylus: Where in Brazil [did you live]?
Emma: We lived in the state of São Paulo in a little town called Campinas.
Stylus: How many people live there, generally?
Emma: For them, it’s considered a “small town,” but I think it’s, like, twice the size of Winnipeg — just because it’s so close to one of the biggest cities in the world. But here, it’s like Winnipeg, we’d consider it a big city.
Stylus: Your show description on CKUW’s website mentions that you play “everything from bluegrass and indie to vaporwave and Brazilian beats.” Did your interest in Brazilian beats precede your stay in Brazil or did it emerge as a result of exposure to
the local culture?
Emma: Definitely emerged as a result of exposure. My parents, though, did a really good job at trying to expose me to a bit of everything, so when I was a kid, I did listen to [a] Putumayo mix [CD called Brazilian Café], so that was my only exposure. If I knew as a child that I would ever be able to understand those songs — it’s nuts now that I can listen to songs that I heard when I was a kid and actually know what they’re talking about!
Stylus: You speak Portuguese?
Emma: I do.
Stylus: Nice! What’s your favourite sentence in Portuguese?
Emma: Oh my god, it’s crazy that your mind jumps immediately to—
Stylus: —that is safe to say on the radio.
Emma: Yeah. My favourite sentence to say? I don’t know. I like the little greetings. There are just so many great swear words! They’re so creative, honest to God. But I’ll stick with saying
MAGGIE A CLARK PHOTO PROVIDED BY EMMA NARVEY
the cute little things, like bom dia — good morning — or boa noite, I say every single day.
Stylus: Classic things to say. I listened to last week’s show. One of the songs you played — which perhaps falls under the “everything” banner — was a gospel song from 1946, “Noah” by The Jubalaires. Is that the oldest song you’ve ever played on the show or have you gone older?
Emma: I’d like to say I’ve gone older. I may have gone back to [the] 1920s. There’s a song called “Yes! We Have No Bananas.” In 1923, that was [at] the top of the charts.
Stylus: Wow. They were just having songs about bananas on the radio back then.
Emma: Number-one hit!
Stylus: And now it’s back in business ’cause you’re playing it on the radio. Time is a flat circle.
Emma: Exactly!
Stylus: What I like about your show is that I don’t normally associate dance music with the timeslot of 6:30 to 8 in the morning. That’s more of a jazz fusion or eerie sound collage zone for me, and dance music o’ clock doesn’t strike until 11:30, noon-ish. But you might have sold me on it! What draws you to dance music at such an early hour?
Emma: Well, I love dancing and I guess it’s just by virtue of the time that I have. If I had the whole day to play music, I think you’re right, I think I would leave it until — my most active dance time is probably 11 pm, honestly. But it’s a good way to get waking up and I dance all the time in the studio here. I can’t help it. Sometimes I forget to log my music because I’m dancing. Stylus: That’s delightful. Last week, you also relayed an anecdote about coming across the song you’d just finished playing — I forget the title, unfortunately — when some dudes
were blasting it in a park while you were crocheting. I bring it up because I found that very charming. Have any other quirky situations led you to find good music you’d have otherwise missed? How do you normally discover new music?
Emma: Great question! Yes, that’s how I discover all my music, I think. I couldn’t live without Shazam because everywhere I go — if I’m in a restaurant or something — [I like to] just pick up what’s happening. And I guess that’s what leads the show to be so diverse because, if you go a lot of different places, you’ll get to hear lots of different kinds of songs and, if you Shazam all of it, there’s lots of weird stuff happening all around you, musically, all the time.
Stylus: I’m a big fan of leaving things to the whims of chance as well.
Emma: Yeah, it makes life pretty fun!
Winterruption: An Afternoon of Music at the Forks
As evinced by the local arts and culture scene — Festival du Voyageur, Winnipeg Folk Festival, Nuit Blanche, Winnipeg International Jazz Festival, and Folklorama just to name a few — we are genuinely privileged to be in proximity to such events and the talents that drive the soul of these places. Amidst the unforgiving and inconsistent weather that occurs during the winter, it was honestly invigorating to attend an afternoon of music at the Forks Market as part of the annual Winterruption festival on January 26.
The Forks Market was as busy as you would imagine it to be on a Sunday. Families huddled up on all floors bonding over timeless eats. One can’t help but feel comforted by the sight of an exuberant crowd and salivating scent of mini donuts that put the
kids (and a 19-year-old contributor of Stylus) at ease. Despite the schedule on the website for Winterruption clearly indicating that the performers would be on the second floor, it was an embarrassing task to find out where the performers were despite the reverb of the amps echoing across the perimeter of the Forks Market. The afternoon was a revitalizing bit of proof that one can still live and thrive in winter, even in Winnipeg. The dynamics of a chord progression, the vulnerability in someone’s vocal tone, the pattern of a certain melody, and the personal connection to a song has a peculiar yet comfortable parallel with that of the most profound use of human language. Just how a language has sentences, grammar, and stories, your favourite expressions of art fall under a unique medium that has its own conditions that have been prac-
ticed and evolved across centuries.
For anyone else who arrived halfway through the event, you would’ve come right in time for CEC. Those in attendance were rapt with attention to the “Wet Paint” singer, accompanied by Calgary’s Wyatt Louis. Before the set, the crowd had been tumultuously eating and interacting with one another, but once the music began, all eyes turned to CEC — and rightfully so. The layout and setup of the performances at the Forks Market was quite appropriate for matching the warm ambience of the rest of the building. The performers played their setlists on top of a slightly elevated platform that would’ve been the size of roughly a hotel elevator, with the performers themselves seated or standing while facing a modest crowd seated on the benches and cushions available.
SABBIR HOSSAIN
During their set, CEC launched into many original pieces and each one captured my attention with their compelling vocals complimenting the vast range of cozy chord progressions that reverberated through the amps. Each aspect — the instrumental, the mixing, the vocals, down to the lyrics — came together to form a cohesive arrangement in the form of slow-tempo and intimate artistic expression. One could easily pick out the influence of R&B icons like Marvin Gaye or Curtis Mayfield along with a blend of contemporary artists such as Daniel Caesar or Frank Ocean for the younger crowd. CEC’s original songs were quite distinguishable in their own right through their slow and intimate groove, clever lyrics, and soothing vocal layers that held up through
my corresponding comparison of their live performance to the song’s recorded version on Apple Music. Towards the end of the set, CEC slyly promoted one of their original pieces on all streaming platforms as they’d “get $0.003 every time you play a song,” prompting a burst of laughter.
Up next was Keri Latimer. Her setlist — full of vibrant pieces that reflected her jolly personality and warm demeanour — featured a lot of her old repertoire. She’s been writing, performing, and recording with Nathan since 1999. Latimer altered her past repertoire on this occasion, lowering some of the keys of her compositions so she more easily hit the notes and occasionally modifying the lyrics. For example, she played an original called
Local Releases
SHAME OMBIIGIZI
As I listened to SHAME, the newest album from indierock band OMBIIGIZI, the word that came to my mind, over and over, was contrast. The grungy vocals of Adam Sturgeon contrast with the smooth high notes of Daniel Monkman. The group’s clear ’90s rock inspiration contrasts with their undeniably modern musical executions. The powerful rallying call “Connecting” contrasts sharply
with the haunting and mournful “Hands Are Up.” OMBIIGIZI’s unique skill lies in balancing these contrasts to form an innovative yet familiar sound that pushes industry boundaries and keeps listeners asking “what’s next?” The answer tends to be more great music.
The Ontario-based Anishinaabe duo released SHAME last fall, three years after they joined their separate projects (Zoon and Status/NonStatus) to form OMBIIGIZI. The ten-track album is the group’s best success to date, with songs even making the top ten of CBC’s weekly music list in November 2024. SHAME balances instrumentals and vocals with the grace of a band that has been together much longer than four years and
“Twenty Storeys High,” a track from Citizen Alien by her other band Leaf Rapids, which Latimer said contained “dark” themes. After looking up the recorded version of the song, the lyrics are definitely provocative and it makes sense why she omitted certain parts of the song for the sake of being more audience-friendly. Nonetheless, her lyricism leaves a lot of ambiguity for the reader/listener to depict their own narrative.
All in all, the Forks Market Winterruption show invited all goers to an intimate, dynamic, and profound collection of distinctive artists. Events like this are a wonderful reminder of the talent we have in our local scene, the strength in our community, and the precious moments we hold onto.
shares poignant lyrics that every Canadian rock fan should pay close attention to.
“Laminate the Sky”, “Street Names and Land Claims”, “Hands Are Up”, and “Shame” are clear standouts on the album. In “Laminate the Sky,” poetic lyricism meets rock’n’roll as OMBIIGIZI paints a picture of a stretching natural landscape, describing “a late August moon, wild rice,” “red lake gloom,” and a “blood orange sky.” Monkman’s vocals on this track are smooth and androgynous as they coax the listener into the album, promising an easygoing time that any indie-rock fan will enjoy.
“Street Names and Land Claims” replaces the soothing vocals of “Laminate the Sky” with intense staccato lyrics that isolate one syllable of the verse at a time.
OMBIIGIZI uses the fast and fragmented nature of the song to provide bitesized pieces of social commentary in action-driven phrases.
“Hands Are Up” is a vital touchpoint of the album because it shows OMBIIGIZI’s musical range. It breaks the album from its classic rock roots through its modern indie-alternative sound. The track prioritizes instrumentals over vocals and uses them to create a dream-like yet sinister atmosphere. Mumbled echoing vocals give the short song a ghostly liminal quality that haunted me long after my first listen.
OMBIGIIZI’s last stand-out of the album is the record’s closer and namesake, “Shame.” Its warbling electronic intro exudes pure angsty emotion that encompasses the album’s theme
perfectly. The track transforms into a psychedelic rock ballad that belts out emotionally raw lyrics as though the singer is venting his soul to the world. “Shame” is a powerful closing track and one that will surely leave a lasting impression on any listener.
SHAME is a fantastically executed sophomore project for OMBIGIIZI and it deserves the flowers it’s currently receiving in the Canadian music scene and more. OMBIGIIZI is making the trek across the provincial border this summer to perform at the Winnipeg Folk Festival, and I suggest to anyone going to check out their set. You won’t regret it!
Bradi Breckman
A HARMONY OF LOSS HAS BEEN SUNG TUNIC
Content notice: this article contains discussion of suicide, self-harm, and miscarriage. Music critics are often criticized for our overreliance on comparison. And rightly so! Every band’s latest album sounds like that of some contemporary in the same genre or a callback to some other band from a bygone era or dearly departed milieu. Nothing ever sounds like itself. To say that band
X reminds me of bands Y or Z would mean little to any reader unfamiliar with these referents.
To a fan, however, the analogy reads as facile — at best, shorthand deployed to shirk the writer’s responsibility for evocative description; at worst, an exercise in showing off. Aren’t I so precious for being conversant in ’60s free jazz or ’90s post-hardcore? Look at how many bands I’ve heard of!
I am as guilty of this as anyone. But if I may defend myself from my own imagined line of attack, this intertextuality — more cynically, this overabundance of name-dropping — is necessary up to a point. Art, after all, is cumulative. We do not generate new forms of expression ex nihilo, but rather look to our surroundings for inspiration and guidance. Every new act of creation is a combination of existing forms, intended to fill a perceived gap in the world.
All of this is to say that I first listened to Tunic’s latest effort, A Harmony of Loss Has Been Sung, on the same day I had planned to rewatch one of my favourite movies, Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters. After reading the noise punk trio’s description of their album as “a document of pure pain,” the two became indelibly linked in my mind.
In the film’s first act, a fictionalized Yukio Mishima recalls an early encounter with a reproduction of an oil painting of Saint Sebastian — its
youthful subject bound to a tree and pierced with arrows, patiently awaiting execution. Gazing upon this tribute to righteous suffering, our precocious protagonist is moved to masturbate (not shown but described rather poetically in voiceover as his hand “unconsciously [beginning] a motion it had never been taught”). And thus was born the author’s fascination with the male body and with sadomasichism, planting the seeds of a death drive that would remain with him until his 1970 suicide by seppuku after leading an unsuccessful fascist coup attempt.
Though I can’t say I approve of his politics, I share Mishima’s sense that there is something undeniably exquisite in artistic renderings of pain. The feeling is unpleasant on the surface and yet it is a sign of true devotion that so many of us willingly erect monuments in its honour, enshrine it in our memories. To document an experience of torment is to make it legible and, in so doing, prolong it; draw it out; make it hurt more, and again.
In A Harmony of Loss, the source of the pain is a miscarried pregnancy — that of vocalist David Schellenberg’s wife in 2023. I cannot engage with the matter directly, having never undergone such a tragedy myself; hence my use of analogy to a Paul Schrader film I happened to see that day. Schellenberg understands that his subject position as father to a stillborn child strands him on an unreachable shore. In “Ordinary Unique Pain,” he
describes it as “a loss I wish on nobody but want you all to endure.” The track’s instrumentation — a punishing atonal waltz anchored by a harsh, one-note bass line — gets the point across. The discomfort is visceral and compelling.
Later in the song, he struggles with a refusal to accept his pain as legitimately his own and resigns himself to the realization that it will never be anyone else’s either: “How am I questioning ‘our’ loss? It’s your loss, it’s your loss — no! No, it’s our loss! No one will know what we don’t have. Your lack of presence is felt just by a subset of a fraction.”
Worse still, this tragedy struck with neither rhyme nor reason. As Schellenberg wonders aloud during the spoken-word intro of “Sorrow’s Grip”: “What did we do to deserve this? Nothing.” There is no absolution to be gained, no lesson to be learned, no solace to be found.
Merely reprinting these anguished words only conveys so much. To borrow again from Mishima, “stage blood is not enough.” Pain can only be known when it is made real and then it must be reenacted to serve as a reminder that we exist. If we are bound to suffer, we may as well languish in it, transform it into something performative and cathartic. An old girlfriend of mine once asked, during the argument that precipitated our breakup, whether I “enjoy being miserable.” This
comment wounded me at the time, but I have since come to realize just how perceptive it really was. The only honest answer is “yes.” A Harmony of Loss is an album for those who feel similarly. Maggie A . Clark
COLLAPSE OF THE SIGHTLESS AGE THE PRIMARY PHASE PRINCIPLE
When I first saw the cover art for Collapse of the Sightless Age, it reminded me of an iconic scene from the 1970 film Beneath the Planet of the
BASIS OF UNITY JAIRUS SHARIF
When one thinks of Calgary, what does one picture in their mind’s eye? The downtown observation tower?
The Glenbow Museum?
The hideous drive from the airport into the city proper?
The controversial no-goal call on Martin Gélinas in game six of the 2004 Stanley Cup Finals?
Apes, where a cult of telepathic mutants are found in a similar underground sanctuary with a nuclear bomb as their focus of worship. Eric St-Onge — the mastermind behind The Primary Phase Principle — tells a tale with similar elements in his latest instrumental concept album, which is part two of a collection referred to as Subterranean Ages. But instead of exploring fears related to the fallout of nuclear war as in the Planet of the Apes series, through this impressive project St-Onge engages with issues related to humanity’s reliance on machines (and vice versa) — more akin to what’s found in The Matrix.
The result is a rich multimedia experience: six imaginative and badass lyricless songs that span almost 34 minutes, and an accompanying
downloadable booklet with both futuristic artwork and a guiding narrative that allows listeners to track along with the mythology. Not everyone is wired to be able to score a sci-fi movie or video game; however, if anyone is looking for someone to do this for them, they better get TPPP on speed dial. The sound design is fantastic, and even with only a cursory understanding of the underlying plot, one is transported to another world where the complex interplay of organic and artificial life is seen and felt.
The music itself is multi-layered and many-sided, as if created on some kind of digital loom. At times menacing and other times hopeful, StOnge succeeds in creating a sonic environment through an ebb and flow of cyclical,
mechanistic, synthetized sounds that pan left and right, while also simulating a sense of depth. There’s a cool interplay between imposing industrial noises and more vibrant hooks, which communicates well the motif of hybridity that’s at the core of both Collapse of the Sightless Age (February 2025) and its predecessor, Echoes of the Mechatronic Age (February 2024).
Besides simply being a brilliant set of songs to listen to when studying, writing or doing another activity where words are distracting, that extra level of legend-building that St-Onge provides with the digital pamphlet is worth “naming your price” at T-triple-P’s Bandcamp. And I have a feeling this isn’t the end of the story. Mykhailo Vil’yamson
Releases From Away
Whatever it is, one’s first answer is probably not “the jazz scene,” but multi-instrumentalist composer Jairus Sharif is here to change all that.
I first came across the man when his album Water & Tools was longlisted for the 2023 Polaris Music Prize. At the time, I was undertaking an annual project to review all 40 of the longlisted nominees on my personal blog. On balance, I do not recommend doing this. Although there are easily 40 good albums released by Canadian musicians in any
given year, the Polaris jury seems to triangulate to a certain level of radio-friendliness and preexisting acclaim, resulting in about half of the nominees being dull as dishwater. Sharif, on the other hand, was an excellent find!
His latest offering, Basis of Unity, is no less captivating. My first impulse is to call the album “futuristic,” but this is of course definitionally impossible. If it has already been recorded, how can it be of the future? Even when the legendary Ornette Coleman called his shot by titling an album The Shape
of Jazz to Come — and was proven dead right! — he had no way to know this at the time of its release. All anticipations of the future are themselves time-bound.
So perhaps I should be more precise: the mixing feels similar to that of a speculative science fiction film set in outer space. All sounds are accompanied by a brief delay, quickly reabsorbed into the melody. The opener “Oh And Poets Maybe” — whose titular conjunction implies that we are overhearing a conversation that started before our arrival — is
bathed in static and evokes the tuning of an old radio. High-pitched feedback periodically intrudes on the soothing synth melody and wonky saxophone squall. The confluence of sound is magnificent.
“Looking Down (We Be)” picks up where the preceding left off. Sharif’s sax is simultaneously more plaintive and more forceful before it recedes to accommodate a spoken word section by Malcolm Mooney. (Apparently, the former Can vocalist lives in Calgary too! What’s going on over there? Is Calgary cool now? Who knew?)
“Step way past the pond of life,” he tells us. “Transfer [inaudible] myself into that space. That space that is in between here and there, earthly infinity, earthly, the other world. And there they were, those that were there before. We stood and shook hands, hugged, and said, ‘yes, yes, affirmative.’ Everything was affirmative. There was no negative.”
I have no clue where, what, or to whom Mr. Mooney is referring, but he says it with such calm conviction that I have no choice but to take his word for it. Ah, yes. Of course. You met some interdimensional beings and gave them a big hug and you all said “affirmative” a lot. That sounds awesome. Would you mind giving me their phone number?
“Mawu” is the shortest and most straightforwardly pleasant track on the album, so if you haven’t acquired the taste for experimental jazz
— and yet somehow made it this far into the review — that’s the cut I’d probably recommend playing first. See if you can build up a tolerance for it. We all start somewhere!
The synthesizers in “Bear Witness” carry a lightly industrial thrum and there’s really only so many ways to describe a saxophone. I think I’ll leave well enough alone and hope that I’ve made a strong enough case in this album’s favour.
Cheers. Maggie A Clark
8 NOTIONS DE DÉTENTE TORCHE !
There’s a lot going on in Québec right now. Back in February, those rat bastards at Amazon closed their facilities across the province in retaliation for the unionization of the DXT4 warehouse in Laval. Rather than allow the workers to bargain collectively for a fair wage, Jeff Bezos — who should really be called “Jeff Bozo,” if you think about it — decided to put roughly 4,500 people out of a job instead. Nasty stuff.
My advice? Boycott Amazon. Cancel Prime, stop using Audible and Twitch (and their absurdly long list of other subsidiaries), buy local, and tell everyone you
know to do the same. An attack on one is an attack on all, which is why we must condemn this baldfaced attack on labour rights and show the monopoly class that they can’t just get away with it.
But that’s more of an aside, really. Let me tell you about Rimouski-based free jazz quintet Torche !
The term “free jazz” is an expansive one. Two of the genre’s quintessential albums by my estimation — Don Cherry’s Symphony for Improvisers and Pharoah Sanders’ Black Unity — are blisteringly loud, cacophonous arrangements. They contain these extended sections of catharsis where the full band starts blaring away at maximum velocity, producing a melody at once incoherent and holistic. This is not the approach that Torche ! has taken.
8 notions de détente is much more sparse. It qualifies as “free” jazz by virtue of the absence of standard meter or chord progression, but some tracks are quiet to an extent that almost qualifies as minimalism. 8 notions has more in common sonically with Mark Hollis’ self-titled solo effort than with the Cherry or Sanders records cited above: it is quietly abrasive without being confrontational.
The pitter-patter of muted percussion, the scraping of cymbals, the faint cry of one or two wind instruments at most, the dull hum of a single synth note — this is music so frail it could blow
away in a slight breeze. At the forefront of this soft barrage is Franz Hautzinger’s amplified trumpet. The amplification permits us to hear the vibrations of his breath against the brass, feel his spit in the mouthpiece.
I think that’s pretty neat but, then again, I don’t find “wet mouth sounds” inherently off-putting in my music. Your mileage may well vary. But this author is of the opinion that these sounds are deployed sparingly and well.
If I’ve made any of this sound enticing to you, I would also advise checking out the group’s Tour de Bras label mates Brûlez Les Meubles. The duo attracted my notice a couple months ago when I found out they had enlisted Ingrid Laubrock — one of my favourite saxophonists working today — for their latest album, Folio #5, another banger.
And while you’re at it, go listen to Laubrock’s deranged freeform freakout Monochromes. It’s the sort of music you could imagine accompanying a nightmare where all your friends reveal they hated you the whole time and you jolt awake in a cold sweat at 3 am right at the point when they start stabbing you to death. Not that I myself have experienced such a dream — I am nothing if not a famously stable and well-adjusted individual! I’m just saying that if I did have such a dream, Monochromes would be its ideal soundtrack, and that this feature is what makes
