Monday night, I was at The Phoenix for a concert. This venerable venue had 6 more months before being turned into condos. The ground floor was only at half capacity and I don't think it got more than two-thirds full. Opener Laraw did a set of angry confessionals: the current style of sad songs comprising of quiet, wistful verses and loud refrains. She can reach for that big voice but needed a little more control over it. Her guitarist was a dud for me: the same quiet strumming of reverb-drenched chords on every song. Contrast that with Sunday's show by Chris and Nicole where variety in guitar playing added fullness to an acoustic duo set.
Pomme was a French musician (who also live in Montreal) I found online during the pandemic lock-downs. With my passable high-school French, I thought her lyrics were richly evocative. I suspected a live show was going to be more vibes than poetry. And I was right. My proximity to the stage had a great view, but line array speakers make even solo sets sound muffled. On top of that, a giant fan next to me filled my ears with a constant hum.
Luckily, Claire Pommet had a wide musical arsenal. First and foremost were her voice and guitar. Despite looking like a picture-perfect example of a French gamine with her oversized beret, pixie cut, and slim build, there was no cute, breathy vocals. Her voice often soared to stratospheric heights but also descended to a low, intimate croon. Her guitar playing was excellent, showcasing different techniques to accompany her singing. Several other instruments were also used including an auto-harp and a mini-synthesizer.
Pomme was a congenial performer, regaling us with stories about her music as well as her daily life. She spent the day bicycling around Toronto and enjoying Taro ice-cream. Apparently this treat (7 years on from her first taste) was not available in Quebec nor France? Though more than half the audience knew French, Pomme spoke primarily in English since she wanted to keep improving at it, a legacy from her younger days when she aspired to be an English teacher.
The audience got a great show, especially the francophones. Artists that would fill much larger venues elsewhere play to smaller crowds here. After the "pro forma" encore, which Pomme humorously described as a binding "oral contract" between her and the audience, we got a second one. Ms Pommet came out again when the crowd chants refused to die down. Obviously touched, she did a fully acoustic number, perched on a chair right at the edge of the stage. Pomme's first show in Toronto for her first North American (beyond Quebec) tour was a special one.
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