“Rouyn-Noranda? The end of the world!” says the man behind the counter of Beatnick Records located in downtown Montreal (who would later transform into Pat the Brat, getting behind the decks on the festival’s closing day, only adding to the bewildering nature of the occasion), as I pay for my vinyl copy of Joni Mitchell’s ‘Wild Things Run Fast’. In my experience, the person behind the till in the record store is never usually wrong, so it’s all the more intriguing how, in a region known for enterprising festivals such as Pop Montreal and La Noce, for the last 24 years curious revellers have known to make the eight-hour journey up north to the town of Rouyn-Noranda for the absolute definition of a one-of-a-kind festival that is Festival De Musique Émergente, perhaps better referred to throughout this experience as FME.
Let’s paint you a picture of our surroundings for the week before we dive in, Rouyn-Noranda, located on the western shores of Lake Osisko, the town itself some 40,000 strong in population lives alongside or in contention with its mining and industrial industry, a late night walk back from the main stages back to your temporary hotel for the week will see you brush alongside the permanent spectre of industrial smoke that looms over the town, such is the conflict and the otherworldliness of FME, the arm wrestle between a burgeoning and thriving artistic scene evident over the week and the permanent realities one cannot ignore.
Staying true to the spectacle of it all, the lineup on display will lift us between different galaxies of sound. A festival such as FME was never going to be one-way traffic in its entertainment offering; there was everything ranging from the tender melodics of Charlotte Cornfield armed with acoustic guitar and heart on sleeve, the living and breathing soundscapes of Mykalle, and to ensure we don’t get too comfortable lying in the tall grass, there was the frantic oddball sound of Mek’Dr’Dr and La Sécurité.
Perhaps the best antidote for a weary traveller who feels as if he’s walked through a time warp, starting his journey in Norwich and ending in Rouyn-Noranda, is the wandering alternative-folk music of Quebec local Arielle Soucy, who commenced the weekend live from Agora des Arts, a performance venue built within the walls of the former heritage church of Notre-Dame-de-Protection.
Soucy looked at home against a backdrop of a church arch, as she performed among flickering candles; what rose from the flame was a spellbinding combination of raw emotion and delicate numbers, best captured in the closing track ‘Pattern’.
Continuing onwards into the night, the first headliner to grace the expansive Petit Théatre du Vieux Noranda came courtesy of La Sécurité, who arrived on stage to a rapturous crowd who gave no indication whatsoever they’d arrive by pure stumbling curiosity, giving the dance-punk group a “let’s see what this group is about” attitude. What you’ll witness throughout the festival and every set is that every musician feels like a local hero; the bond between a performer at FME and an adoring crowd feels inexplicably tethered.
A typical Saturday at any UK festival might find you tenderly and wearily breaking into your first packet of supernoodles, boiling the kettle with great effort. Well, FME offered a slightly different option, as we walked over to an afternoon barbecue hosted by Montreal record label Bonsound. The wonderfully inventive sound of Hélène Barbier and her group played a tight set, a large swimming pool being the only obstacle between performer and audience. The music rose above the chatter of artists, media, and music professionals with hot dogs in hand.
Saturday night at any major festival can throw up a myriad of options and stiff competition; on this occasion, we opted for the most eclectic of triple headers, with the sound shifting between field recordings, storytelling folk, and electro-pop as each artist came and went.
Up first was Mykalle, who throughout her set conjured up the language of the universe, singing in Latin, Greek, Bulgarian and English, with a mystifying blend of neoclassical soundscapes. It was incredibly captivating for all to observe, and ‘Ghost’ was a clear example of an artist orbiting outside of the remit of traditional and modern music, imagine Beth Gibbons from Portishead but surrounded by classical instrumentation of a Byzantine era instead of a sleek trip-hop-inspired synth line.
Next was the wistful and much-beloved Toronto star Charlotte Cornfield, who since 2011 has become a “those who know” star of vulnerable, deeply moving work. Cornfield’s live show is immediate and stripped-back; she has a sensitive voice, knows every inch of the guitar she plays, and occasionally steps behind a piano. There is something universally resonant about the songwriters’ music; across the set at Le Paramount, a former cinema, the songs were woven with lived experiences and hard-earned lessons, and you’d be hard-pressed to find someone in the audience who wouldn’t feel comforted by the camaraderie. A shining highlight was a special request of ‘The Magnetic Fields’ from 2023’s Could Have Done Anything, “We went to see the Magnetic Fields at Theatre Corona, I maybe had one too many drinks”, I think it’s fair to say Charlotte Cornfield’s shoes are big enough for us all to walk a mile in.
Perhaps the most intriguing display of the night was Camilla Sparksss set at Petit Théâtre du Vieux, who lit up the night with a frenzied blend of techno, lo-fi electronica and visual projections. The combination of live videography and warped imagery was a masterclass in how, for performers such as Camilla, the live stage can become an opportunity to showcase every labour of love, with visuals that blend perfectly with the music. The performer slinked between two turntables, as all manner of sound erupted from her diverse palette, crossing over 80s synth-pop to industrial doom as she turned the page; it was the glitching electroclash of ‘ICU RUN’ veering into freakbeat territory that consumed the dancefloor, taking over dangling limbs and placing the crowd right into the palm of Camilla Sparksss every beck and call.
Sunday? I don’t even know where to begin. I had looked at the day’s schedule and spotted the raw, poetic Americana country of Spaghatt as a shoo-in for a gentle foray into Sunday, the festival’s closing day. But FME had other plans.
Maybe if you take a weekend at Latitude’s gloriously scenic Henham Park site, you’ll enjoy yourself. Still, there are signs of outside life: the sound of traffic, and maybe the looming threat of Monday morning on the horizon. On this fateful day, we were, as a group of English and American reviewers, whisked by boat around the shores of Lac Kanasuta, as we went island hopping, chatting and bonding with locals who have their own slice of paradise.
As somebody who grew up in Norfolk and has never travelled outside Europe, it was the grandest indication of just how far I had travelled from home to arrive at FME yet. Whilst this may not be the average year-on-year experience at the festival, it does give some indication as to the otherworldly environment this occasion neighbours.
In true FME fashion, Sunday night festivities turned into a celebration of the event itself, rather than focusing on one spotlight artist. Across the night, entertainment came through a revolving door of DJs, each playing a sound as far removed from the previous as possible, creating a euphoric, almost blurring effect. The Sadies also put in an appearance, and an older local man reliably informed me: “Ils sont notre version des Waterboys.” Toronto legends who have been around the scene for nearly 30 years were a fitting addition to Rouyn-Noranda’s centennial celebrations; while the trio plugged away, a healthy supply of popcorn cannons and circus skills ensured this final-day blowout had something for everybody.
While it may take a while before I travel to more distant land than Rouyn-Noranda, with its unconventional venues, pop-up stages in alleyways, parking lots, and poutine joints, block parties on petrol station forecourts, stunning lakeside gigs, and more, I can’t help but express my desire to take on a yearly residency at this gem of a festival, existing beyond my wildest imagination.
