In contrast to the previous night's performance at the Agora des Arts, which started off moderately well attended, Saturday's double bill of Myriam Gendron and Avec pas d'casque had people queuing up outside well before curtain time. What wasn't initially clear was whether the swell of early attendees were here for opener Gendron or headliner Avec pas d'casque, who were performing back to back nights at the FME in this same venue.
Gendron walked on stage to little fanfare, minus a few vocal fans, sat on a stool, grabbed her guitar and started playing the first notes of "Go Away from My Window," taken from 2021's Ma délire - Songs of love, lost & found. People kept milling into the 200-capacity theatre until all seats were taken and started lining up on the sidelines and sitting on the stairs. While somewhat distracting, the audience itself was rapt with attention. What are called "guitar/voix" artists, meaning solo singers who play acoustic guitar, were once at the heart of the Québec musical tradition, and Gendron has built her career keeping this tradition alive, both in her live performances and in her revitalization of classic folk songs.
At a festival where the bombastic and the attention-grabbing are de rigueur, how refreshing to sit down for an hour of calm and care. While her performances are restrained, bordering on fragile, Gendron's stage presence and banter are anything but. Generous and talkative, Gendron showcased a great fondness and reverence for her craft, as well as a deep knowledge of its history. She wove through her catalogue with great ease and minutiae, inviting the audience into her creative process through her engaging storytelling.
When introducing the song "Dorothy's Blues," off her most recent release (and one of our 25 Best Albums of 2024 So Far) Mayday, she explained that it's loosely inspired by one of Dorothy Parker's poems and a wink to her first album, which was entirely composed around Parker's words. This time she took more liberties with Parker's work, interpolating the lyrics in both French and English, to beautiful results. An homage to her mother, who passed during the recording of Mayday, in the form of her interpretation of 1650s wartime lament "La belle Françoise (pour Sylvie)," is deeply affecting. Gendron's performance perfectly encapsulated her aptitude for breathing new life into centuries old songs.
She ended her set with "a last song about mourning," telling the audience that her songs are "not a diary, but a tending of the hand" before performing a stripped-back version of "Lully Lullay." Some audience members might have simply been squatting for the performance, but judging by the standing ovation Gendron received, she left the FME with a slew of new fans. In an era obsessed with artistic authenticity, it doesn't get much more real than Myriam Gendron.