f50 3 Quebecois 3
It’s foot-tapping in all directions for music of the Canadian province. Tony Montague profiles three of the current hot outfits.
cussionist Olivier Demers, guitarist and mandola player Simon Beaudry, and his own younger brother, accordeonist and bassist Réjean Brunet (a shoo-in for any dramatisation of The Three Musketeers).
“For family reasons De Temps Antan had to cut back drastically on touring,” says André. “But I can’t afford to do that. For me music is a full-time occupation. My goal is to play around 100 shows a year, like Le Vent Du Nord. So I asked Geneviève [the agent for both bands, and Nicolas’ partner] if they would be interested in acquiring a fifth member.”
“We loved the idea,” Olivier chips in. “I’ve been talking for some time about having another melody player and foot- percussionist. My ankles are starting to weaken a bit after all these years. André is a multi-instrumentalist – he also plays piano and guitar. He’s the crème de la crème of musicians in Quebec, super posi- tive and dynamic, and we share the same way of looking at things.”
Le Vent Du Nord I
t seems an unlikely place to tap the pulse of roots music in Quebec – a park wedged between the Trans- Canada Highway and the head- quarters of Vancouver’s Hell’s
Angels. But Maillardville is the only part of the city settled by pioneering Quebe- cois – nuns, lumberjacks, mill-workers – and where every year in March the Festi- val du Bois is held in a large heated tent.
And on reflection, it’s not so hard to imagine the combined musicians of Le Vent Du Nord, Les Chauffeurs à Pied, and Bon Débarras – this year’s three headliners – pulling off the highway in formation on gleaming Harley Davidsons with their instruments strapped to the back seat, and pausing on their way to admire the charm- ing water-feature in the Angels’ front yard, with its dragons, skulls, and small but perfect warthog’s head.
For Le Vent Du Nord in particular it’s been a wild ride in the fast lane. Earlier in the month the band played at Womad fes-
tivals in Adelaide, Australia and New Ply- mouth, New Zealand, and in February they were south of the line again to per- form at Womad in Santiago, Chile. The big gigs highlight their increasing global reach and popularity.
“We haven’t often been in the south- ern hemisphere,” says hurdy-gurdy and keyboards player Nicolas Boulerice, “and I think something interesting opened up for us in Santiago. We’re starting to realise the huge possibilities of playing in Latin America, where there’s a lot of interest in all kinds of music that gets people danc- ing. They’re very curious, and really con- nect with music from Quebec.”
The band has become a quintet with the addition of fiddler André Brunet – for- merly with La Bottine Souriante and Kevin Burke’s Celtic Fiddle Festival, and most recently with the trio De Temps Antan. The genial Brunet is a natural fit for Le Vent Du Nord, part of the same family in every sense. He joins fellow fiddler and foot-per-
Rewind a few hours to Le Vent du Nord performing live. André and Olivier sit at opposite sides of the stage by the speak- ers, drumming their feet in sync while trading phrases on a reel, then stand up and head towards each other, meeting front and centre to face-off like friendly adversaries. Then André is in another of these musical dialogues with his sibling Réjean on accordeon. Their moves are cleverly choreographed without feeling over-produced – a playful expression of the close relations in the band.
As a quintet everything about Le Vent Du Nord – sonic range, arrangements, vocal harmonies, visual impact, theatrics, and feelgood factor – is cranked up a significant notch. The humour too. They like occasion- ally hamming things up. André leads a brief outbreak of collective pogoing, and at one point Nicolas stands and wields his vielle like some ancient Telecaster to play a wail- ing, droning solo with all the grimaces and postures of a metal guitarist.
The Brunets have been making music together since they were young boys grow- ing up in a village near the US border, twenty minutes from Plattsburg, New York. “There were uncles who played fiddle and
Photo: Stephane Najman
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