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Shook Ones, Pt. II

An Assembly for the Cosmos, Curator: Antoine Bertron, Galerie de l’UQAM, Until 17 October

A person observing an art installation with large stones arranged around a illuminated screen displaying abstract visuals.
Tabita Rizaire, Mamelles Ancestrales, 2019, Video, colour, sound, 61 min, French with English subtitles, rocks (siliceous sandstone). Photographed for NicheMTL.

“It’s it
What is it?”
—Faith No More, “Epic”

I begin this column with an apology:

I am sorry for deviating from my normal routine of talking around the thing and instead talking straight at the thing. Because the thing is, the thing can no longer be ignored.

The thing is impenetrable by analysis, ignorant of analogy, resistant to criticism, impervious to satire. We may not recognize the thing or be interested, but the thing recognizes and is interested in us.

The thing in question is not A.I. The thing is not Donald Trump, nor is it Vladimir V. Putin, nor any of the abhorrent individuals that pass these days for leaders. The thing is not war, nor is it famine, nor even death. These things indeed are real things. But they are symptoms of the thing, not the thing itself.

The thing, the enemy, the culprit, the syndrome, is capital — the insatiable appetite.

Capital produces death by abstracting life. Capital produces famine by unevenly valuing people and things. Capital produces war by incentivizing detachment from local ethno-geographic realities. Capital produces figures like Putin and Trump, who are neither its smartest nor its most powerful representatives.

Trump and Putin are not heads of state; they are the headless of statelessness, because capital and its agents have no allegiances to anything except for capital.

Nos espoirs furieux, dir. Alex Trahan, La Chapelle Scènes Contemporaines

A performer in a sparkling gown stands center stage under dramatic lighting, with beams of light radiating around them, while seated audience members and a few other performers are visible in the background.
Manon Lussier onstage at La Chapelle Scènes Contemporaines. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“You throw me a lame ‘wait shit out,’
You’re a little late.”
—Sharon Van Etten, “Afraid of Nothing”

U.S. president Donald Trump’s “America First” policy appeals most publicly to the Old Right’s hearth-and-home, non-interventionist doctrine of taking care of our own. This strain of nostalgia speaks to the powerful American mythology of reclaiming its bygone greatness. Trump’s supporters chase it like the horizon.

But now, in an era of global interdependence, which America to a large extent initiated with its policies of industrial offshoring beyond its borders and outsourcing to the lowest bidders, the U.S., one of at least three global superpowers, is in fact enacting extreme 21st century interventionism more evocative of an America post-9/11 than of the nation imagined during its salad days.

Trade wars are tantamount to physical wars because they assault quality of life. But Trump participates in real wars, too — primarily against Iran, tertiarily against Palestine, and implicitly, through alternating inaction and begrudging support, against Ukraine. Therefore, Trump is attempting — and failing at — both nostalgia and neo-reaction.

No Hay Banda with Sam Salem and Dali de Saint Paul, La Sala Rossa, 7 September 2026

A stage set for a music performance, featuring musicians seated with their instruments. A backdrop displays text about an event titled 'Montreal Castle' scheduled for April 14, 2025, in Jordan. The setting is dimly lit with an audience visible in front.
No Hay Banda performs with Sam Salem and Dali de Saint Paul at La Sala Rossa. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“By the time imperial destiny is a political question, it is already historical fact. It is too late, then, for simple denial. The thing is in motion. It cannot be asked not to have begun.”
—Nick Land, “Which Fails First…” (2014)

Dismantling hostile regimes with militarism, however, is replaced in Trump’s time with economic violence against former allies and trade partners, unmaking industries abroad that are not in competition but rather co-dependent with America.

Referring to Trump’s zone-flooding, Dunning-Kruger effect moves as “doctrines” or “policies” or “ideologies” is too generous and implies a measure of forethought and expertise that Trump’s administration falls far short of demonstrating. They are “strategies” at best — not so much “art-of-the-deal” as “hold-my-beer” tactics with little foresight beyond immediate gain and base-level gratification. They are reminiscent less of Herbert Hoover’s Smoot–Hawley Tariff Act than of Charlie Sheen’s rants on Twitter about #Winning.

Trump’s plan is diplomacy-as-hashtag.

Ensembles Zafraan & Paramirabo, Salle de concert du Conservatoire, 4 September 2026

A performance on stage featuring musicians and singers in a brightly colored auditorium with a grand piano and other instruments visible.
Ensemble Zafaan performs with Ensemble Paramirabo at Conservatoire de musique de Montréal. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“The sky had the stagnant breath of a furnace and the streets of New York were like pipes running, not with air and light, but with melted dust.”
—Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged

For the generation 25 years old and younger, that was born after September 11th, 2001, a world in which voluntary submission to some measure of authoritarian control simply never existed. And so, there is no debate around the merits of control society. It just is. It is fascinating and terrifying to watch people argue against freedom, to democratically elect tyrants, to choose a cleaner cage over the prospect of escape.

I was equally fascinated and terrified in 2008 when I first read Rob Walker’s book Buying In. In it, Walker, who at the time wrote an excellent column entitled “Consumed” for The New York Times Magazine, chronicled the ways in which branding in the 21st century frequently integrated anti-consumerist messaging characteristic of alternative millennial cultural texts like Radiohead’s OK Computer, Fight Club, Adbusters, or Naomi Klein’s No Logo.

Walker wrote about how brand consultants working for companies like Nike and Red Bull in the early aughts studied the rhetoric espoused by Thom Yorke and Naomi Klein and redirected it like some Kung Fu master move that turns one’s opponent’s energy back upon itself. Walker called this approach “murketing,” a clever portmanteau of “murky” and “marketing,” rounding up cynical sentiments against advertising into “some kind of small-scale National Endowment for the Arts for young American outsider culture.”

Caroline Monnet, Kwìngwan: The Earth Trembles, Blouin | Division, Until 6 November 2026

A colorful abstract art piece displayed on a white wall, featuring vibrant patterns in shades of red, blue, and black, arranged symmetrically.
Caroline Monnet, With Eyes Full of Joy (2026), Floor and roof underlayment, waterproofing and insulating membranes, sill gasket, polyethylene, tarpaulin, thread, grommets, 104.8 x 206.4 cm. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“…if a Karen can convince herself that she is actually a Rosa in disguise…”
—Naomi Klein, Doppelganger

In the late 1990s, it seemed only natural that a majority of reasonable people would recognize the outsize power and control that corporations were beginning to exert and rightly choose to disengage with them. This, at that time, is what constituted “anti-elitism.”

Nowadays, it is mostly conservatives who rail against the “globalist elites.” How did this about-face occur? It might have earnestly begun with branding. After all, selling a thing = selling an idea.

The tendency on the political left is to ignore its opponents’ activities, to not watch, read, or absorb ideas that we find unsavoury. But the brand bullies of the new millennium devoured oppositional thought and thus immunized themselves from their threatening ideas.

It is high time for the political left to do this — to read Ayn Rand and listen to Nick Fuentes and unite over the traditionally conservative strategies of overlooking rather than microscopically re-examining and granularly disagreeing on our increasingly miniscule divisions.

There are bigger issues at stake — survival, for one.◼︎

Thank you for inviting NicheMTL to your thing. Please get in touch at the about page.

NicheMTL is Montreal’s independent not-for-profit source for this city’s most niche arts and culture. If you love what you’re reading, please consider buying a yearbook and subscribing.

Cover image: Caroline Monnet, Flower of Sound, (2026), Polyethylene, synthetic roofing underlayment, radiant barrier solar attic foil reflective, inkjet on synthetic flashspun high-density polyethylene, thread, 160 x 160 cm. Photographed for NicheMTL.

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Play Recent

The Accidental Tourist

Patrick Watson and the Orchestre FILMharmonique, Maison Symphonique, 21 November 2024

Patrick Watson and the Orchestre FILMharmonique receive a standing ovation after their performance at Maison Symphonique, 21 November 2024. Photographed for NicheMTL.

In the filmmaker Luca Guadagnino’s adaptation of William S. Burroughs’s 1985 novel Queer, Daniel Craig, of James Bond and Belvedere Vodka advert fame, stars as Burroughs’s protagonist, Bill Lee, an ageing junkie absconding in 1950s Mexico City to avoid a possession-related prison term in the U.S.

Burroughs based Lee on a thinly veiled version of himself at a time when drug use and homosexuality were widely considered outlaw behaviours. Nowadays, there is nothing more normie. Burroughs, were he alive today, may have been shocked with these twists of fate.

Shifting social mores notwithstanding, Guadagnino wanted the film to have an authentic aesthetic, especially in terms of its costuming. According to a recent New York Times article, all of the actors’ greasy apparel worn onscreen was of the period, sourced from vintage clothing boutiques and flea markets, with the costume designer, Jonathan Anderson, creative director of luxury brand Loewe, unearthing a treasure trove of 1950s underwear right here in Montreal. Because of course there is a Montrealer harboring a peculiar obsession with historical skivvies.

“An addict has little regard for his image,” Burroughs wrote in the novel’s introduction. Ironically though, the image makers here had to devote outsize attention to details which the story’s real-life subjects themselves ignored.

Distressed clothing has proven fashionable now for decades, with torn jeans and threadbare sweaters from high fashion houses like Balenciaga and Saint Laurent commanding higher market and cultural value than crisp new garments ever could. The 2001 film Zoolander satirized this with its hilarious plotline of an haute couture brand, Derelicte.

“The Ugly American” defines a stereotype of Americans travelling abroad — obnoxious, arrogant, ignorant, and unwashed. One of my favourite Burroughs lines comes from the David Cronenberg adaptation of Naked Lunch in which Hans, the German Black Meat manufacturer, observes, “You know how Americans are. They love to travel. But they only want to meet other Americans and talk about how hard it is to find a decent hamburger.” Two-time president Donald Trump himself has been known to extoll the virtues of “great American food.”

Immigration has become the center of heated political discourse on both sides of the 49th parallel, the subject of tariffs and potential trade wars. But it must be said that of all the immigrant nationalities to Canada, Americans are the grimiest.

Dexter Barker-Glenn, Soul Manifest, Espace Maurice, 30 November — 21 December 2024

Curator Marie Segolene and the artist Dexter Barker-Glenn at Espace Maurice, 30 November 2024. Photographed for NicheMTL.

When I toured Cuba in 2007, Fidel Castro was still its leader. Americans were not permitted to visit the country. George W. Bush was still the worst U.S. president there had ever been.

Except for political propaganda, there was no Western style advertising anywhere. No Coca-Cola. No Apple billboards.

However, entering the capital, a gigantic mural relief of Che Guevara was visible against the side of Cuba’s Ministry of the Interior building in Havana’s Revolution Plaza.

Alberto Korda’s image has become a logo of sorts for revolution the globe over — so much so that Guevara’s visage is deflated of semiotic import, trapped in a t-shirt rather than elevated as an icon for social change. This is precisely where capitalism wants him.

Guevara wrote, “in moments of great peril, it is easy to muster a powerful response with moral incentives. Retaining their effectiveness, however, requires the development of a consciousness in which there is a new scale of values.”

Let’s call it “Acid Communism.”

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Habitat Sonore, Centre PHI, 21 November — 19 January 2025

Whenever I enter into an artist’s oeuvre late in their career, I feel like a dilettante. Such is the case with Nick Cave, whose music I was always peripherally aware of, but was never central to my experience. Being immersed in Cave’s latest album, Wild God, is enough to bring anyone up to speed and convert the most ardent non-believer.

Godspeed You! Black Emperor, MTelus, 26 November 2024

Godspeed You! Black Emperor perform at MTelus, 26 November 2024. Photographed for NicheMTL.

Prior to the coronavirus crisis, I frequently fell ill whenever I travelled.

In 2018 and 2019, I attended the Unsound Festival in Krakow, Poland. And each time I returned home sicker than the sickest I had ever been. There must have been some wild Cold War-era bacteria floating around in one of those moody and disused old Soviet warehouses.

Everyone seemed to catch the bug, too. We joked that it was “Rave Flu.” But doubtless, festival settings where attendees are over-partied and under-slept, improperly nourished and potentially intoxicated, are cesspools of contagion and disease.

When it comes to convalescence, there is no place like home. Carl Rodd, Harry Dean Stanton’s character in Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me, relays a wise sentiment regarding tourism: “I’ve already gone places,” Rodd declares. “I just want to stay where I am.”

Paramirabo & Thin Edge New Music Collective, Chamberdestroy, Conservatoire de Montréal, 29 November 2024

Paramirabo and Thin Edge New Music Collective perform at Conservatoire de musique de Montréal, 29 November 2024. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“If we choose to recondition our interpretation system, reality becomes fluid, and the scope of what can be real is enhanced without endangering the integrity of reality.”
―Carlos Castaneda, The Art of Dreaming.

“[[ ]] Level-1 or world space is an anthropomorphically scaled, predominantly vision-configured, massively multi-slotted reality system that is obsolescing very rapidly.
Garbage time is running out.
Can what is playing you make it to level-2?”
—Nick Land, “Meltdown.”

The gamification of lived experience is a common theme of the postmodern multiverse narrative. Late 1990s movies like Open Your Eyes, eXistenZ, and of course the David Fincher film The Game presuppose that we must play in order to participate in reality. Win, lose, or draw.

A generation prior, the comedian Bob Newhart set a precedent with the brilliant series finale of his eponymous sitcom in which Bob Hartley, Newhart’s character from “The Bob Newhart Show,” his previous programme, awakens to discover that the antecedent eight years — and an entire TV series — had all been an elaborate dream.

Anachronistically, the Newhart writers could have just as easily conceived of the Chinese Waiter’s last line in Cronenberg’s eXistenz.

“Hey… aren’t we still in the game?”◼︎

Thank you for inviting NicheMTL to your thing. Please get in touch at the about page.

NicheMTL is Montreal’s independent not-for-profit source for this city’s most niche arts and culture. If you love what you’re reading, please consider subscribing.

Cover image: Dexter Barker-Glenn, Spectre (2024), Blotting paper, hydrochloric acid, potassium chloride, alpha amylase, protease, lactase, copper. 7.5 x 7.5″. Photographed for NicheMTL.

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All Dressed

More My Speed: in conversation with Roger Tellier-Craig

I am sitting across from Roger Tellier-Craig, the legendary and decidedly niche Montreal electroacoustic musician, at a wobbly brown table in the back room of Caffè Italia on Boulevard St. Laurent.

Tellier-Craig is telling me that his brief stint in the early 2000s as what he describes as a “hired gun” for the exponentially more legendary and decidedly less niche Montreal band Godspeed You! Black Emperor has hurt rather than helped his musical credibility.

“The people who love Godspeed aren’t into experimental electronic music, and the people who listen to experimental electronic music hate Post-Rock.”

Ambivalently, I concede, those two scenes and their members have little overlap. And consequently, counterintuitively, Tellier-Craig’s connection with one of this city’s most venerable musical outfits falls largely, proverbially, upon deaf ears. But Tellier-Craig’s sound goes well beyond the binary.

Even though he has been associated with everyone who’s anyone here — from Godspeed, Fly Pan Am, and Jerusalem in my Heart, to the filmmaker Karl Lemieux, and the intermedia artist Alexandre St-Onge — his solo work has been under construction for almost as long as Montreal itself.

I have followed Tellier-Craig for more than a decade, having discovered Le Révélateur — the musician’s influential collaboration with the video artist Sabrina Ratté — at Mutek in 2012. Later that year, I interviewed him for a Global Ear feature on Montreal in The Wire magazine.

Subsequently, Tellier-Craig has completed a degree in Electroacoustic Music at the Conservatoire de Musique de Montréal, collaborated with Karl Fousek and Devon Hansen, and ripened into a wise elder statesman of sorts.

It feels as though several lifetimes have come and gone since then, and it’s not just the pandemic time warp.

The Montreal Maple Spring soured into the cynical tolerance of capitalism and an acceptance of a provincial swing rightward. Now-ambient disruptions in technology and culture constantly destabilize how and where and why people engage with music. It is safe to assume that Tellier-Craig is not on TikTok.

That is not to say that his music is retro, nor his modes old-fashioned. Roger Tellier-Craig has reached a plateau at which he can focus upon the present, looking neither forward nor backward, content just to be.

Cut back to Summer, 2022. Tellier-Craig and I are sitting at Monarque in Old Montreal. The restaurant has graciously allowed us to film an interview in their dining room, as long as we do it between lunch and dinner service. I have no idea what I am going to do with the footage. But the thing about Tellier-Craig is, like the seasons in Montreal, he’s sure to come around again.

Roger Tellier-Craig talks to NicheMTL about his favourite local artists. Andrei Khabad for NicheMTL.

“Things have changed so much that I think the information I have acquired through this experience is kind of irrelevant,” says Tellier-Craig when I ask what sort of advice he might offer to the kids these days.

“I started making music in an era where you would put out records. Now you’re flooded with this information, this cultural information. How do you say, ‘Hey, here I am, listen to my thing?’ Everyone can make music. It’s readily available through things that we now, 20 years later, take for granted. People have access to MacBooks and laptops and GarageBand or whatever. The DIY mentality is even applicable to stuff that ends up sounding commercial. That’s very different from when I was younger.”

Certainly the world is awash in music. But it was not always so, and his particular encounters with Popular culture as a youngster formed Tellier-Craig’s sensibilities early on — and for a lifetime.

“My dad used to record this show called Friday Night Videos,” he recalls. “This was in 1983 or ’84. And every Saturday we would watch that. At the time, there was no other way to watch videos, so we would just religiously watch this every weekend. And I really got into Culture Club, Duran Duran, Michael Jackson, Madonna, Greg Kihn Band. Pop stuff. I remember getting Thriller on cassette. That was a big one.”

Tellier-Craig evangelizing about music is something like an encyclopedia on tape. He seems to know every little thing about every band, big and small, and makes hyperlinked leaps from one reference to another. “I know all those Beatles songs and ABBA songs by heart, but I don’t remember really listening to them. Music wasn’t as clearly important until I discovered punk. No no no,” Tellier-Craig backtracks, “when I discovered Pink Floyd. And the Velvet Underground. Because I watched The Doors. By Oliver Stone.”

Tellier-Craig cherishes musical breakthroughs as an intrepid explorer might have cherished landing upon some alien shore. His enthusiasm for high and low culture is infectious. Though he flatly denies guilty pleasures. “If you like it, you just have to own it,” Tellier-Craig claims.

“This came from me discovering Scott Walker — but the early Scott Walker, not the late Scott Walker. I discovered the early stuff when I was around 22. During that time, I was starting to discover some French Pop, too — like France Gall — and I knew that this music sounded kitschy to some people. But I was like, I really have to own that. I’m not liking this because it’s ironic. I’m not liking this because it’s cute. I like it because it really means something to me. It resonates on an emotional level.”

There is something inherently Montréalais about Tellier-Craig, and something inherently Tellier-Craig about Montreal. I ask what it means to be an artist in this city, and he contemplates for a long time before replying, “Montreal is accessible, not so expensive like Toronto or Vancouver, but still metropolitan, which means that a lot of people gravitate towards Montreal. A lot of talented people. Maybe people who are a bit more on the margins. To me, Toronto has always sounded more accessible or industry-like. Whereas Montreal has always sounded a bit more weird, in a good way. Like, people are taking risks.”

It has perennially struck me that artists from Montreal, and Canada, more broadly, need to make a name for themselves elsewhere before we take them seriously chez nous. It seems as though Tellier-Craig’s life story so far is about possibilities — possibilities to travel, possibilities to return, and now the chance to stay close to home.

“When someone gets successful outside of Montreal,” Tellier-Craig supposes, “it does make people here want to take notice more. Because they’re like, ‘Oh wow, this has an impact, other people think this is relevant, so I should pay attention to this now.’ But, for example, I remember seeing Godspeed before I played with Godspeed, when they opened for Sonic Youth, and people loved it. They were a band from here and they weren’t famous. Nobody cared outside. Nobody knew about them. And I remember people really, really loving that. It’s not black and white here.”◼︎

Roger Tellier-Craig performs 7 December 2023 at the Conservatoire de Musique de Montréal, 4750, Av. Henri-Juilien.

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