North America doesn’t produce a lot of ‘regional’ success stories anymore, as least as far as the music business is concerned. Most places on the continent are pretty homogenous these days, at least culturally. The fact that just a handful of people program almost all the radio stations on the continent is one factor; the ease of moving around, the loss of local media, and general globalization all contribute.
We are lucky here in Newfoundland. Our general isolation, combined with sheer stubbornness, has allowed us to hold onto our own culture a little bit more than most. Local taste in music still means something here. There are a handful of other exceptions. The thriving music of Cape Breton is one, as is the persistence of a remarkable jazz and Creole music scene around New Orleans. Linguistic minorities also produce their own mini-stars; there are East Indian and Spanish musicians making a comfortable living right under our noses that we will never hear of.
Non-Canadians are always surprised at how separate French Canadian culture is from its English (or ‘Anglo’, as we might say here) equivalents. There are French Canadian acts that sell platinum albums who could not sell out a 200-seat club in Toronto; and many an English Canadian act finds their stardom ends at the edge of Anglo Montreal.
A handful of acts surpass all boundaries; Celine Dion was a major star in French before she broke open worldwide as an English singer. The same is true of Roch Voisine and a few others. Most French Canadian acts, however, pick their language and live within it. French acts that want to broaden their horizons usually do so in Europe, where a hundred million French-speaking fans await their attentions.
It’s too bad. If you spend time at European festivals, you are often surprised to encounter brilliant French acts that you have never heard of going down a storm. They are equally curious to meet us, a big Canadian band that they have never heard of either. One of our first such encounters was with La Boittine Souriante. Although they have made the odd foray into English Canada, ‘the smiling boot’ are way better known to European audiences. Although the membership has undergone endless changes, their music and approach has not changed substantially. In essence, they take Quebecois folk tunes, emphasize the foot percussion, and then add clever backbeats and counter melodies from a jazzy brass section. Many of the songs they sing utilize call and response vocals, which make them accessible even for the heavily language impaired. Their instrumentals often use Irish tunes that have entered the Quebec tradition via fiddlers like Jean Carrignan. The result is something completely unique in folk music, mixing several streams of traditional music into one effervescent whole. I am no dancer, but there is something irresistible about la Boittine.
Vishten are from Canada’s other French speaking people, the Acadians. The Acadians emigrated separately to Canada from the Quebecois, and have their own history, culture and French dialect. They are spread out across Atlantic Canada, and despite being a minority everywhere have managed to maintain a vigorous and vibrant music and literary scene. (They also have strong links with their cousins in Louisiana, the ‘Cajuns’). Vishten come from a couple of streams of these proud people, via the French communities of Prince Edward Island and the Magdalene Islands. Like la Boittine, their music has a pop sensibility all too rare in the folk world, where musicians often take things very seriously. There is no doubt that the band’s twin female singers have some serious novelty value. Still, putting that aside, their arrangements have a freshness and joy many strive for, but few attain. The singing and playing is back seat to none, and they pull it all off without a hint of fromage. Check out Mariez Moi and Monsieur L’Matou from a recent live album, available on iTunes. If the Corrs had been born in Shediac (and had not been sidetracked into Europopshit) they might have sounded a bit like this.
La Vent Du Nord (a.k.a. the North Wind) have often traded members with la Boittine, but their take on French folk music has found an unusually large English speaking audience of its own. Unlike most such acts, they have managed to break into the mainstream Canadian scene a bit more, having made a serious effort to reach out to English audiences. Their music is a little closer stylistically to your typical Irish/Scottish/Breton folk band, but they bring with them the swing and lift of the Quebec tradition. They are also fine performers, and good singers. Not only that, they have a full time hurdy-gurdy player in the band. One can only imagine that he is one of the few aficionados of this weird instrument enjoying such a position.
A few years ago in St. John’s I saw La Vent pull off the single funniest piece of stagecraft I’ve ever seen. Just before the first intermission, the then-band leader Benoit Bourque cajoled a good chunk of the audience into gathering at the front of the stage to learn a French folk dance. A good hundred or so people joined in, holding hands awkwardly as they learned the simple steps. The rules established, the band struck up a tune, and Bourque led them in a shuffle back and forth across the small orchestra pit. This quickly got annoying, as there was no room to really get the dance going.
“Up the aisle!” shouted Bourque.
Obligingly, the mob of dancers joined him in a big folky conga, up and down the theatre aisles. After a turn or two of this, for some insane reason, Bourque decided to up the ante.
“Through the crowd!” he shouted, laughing manically.
Bourque is a big friendly man, but he has a bear-like presence that brooks no argument. He began clambering over people in a row half way up the theatre, dragging the whole tribe behind him.
A group chorus of “…oof...excuse me…hey!…uhh sorry...*** off, you idiot...watch what you’re doing…” soon followed, as toes were mashed, purses and boots kicked aside, and people fell all over each other, as a general orgy of embarrassment, discomfort and pique filled the room. Bourque and a few others made it across the whole width of the theatre, but the rest of the dance dissolved into a low-key brawl, as the sitters and the dancers wrestled over the same space. Bourque leapt back onstage and bounced back into the tune, leaving the audience in complete turmoil, with a grin on his face that would have lit up the stage on its own. Rarely have I laughed so hard. I have never had the nerve to try it with a crowd myself, but it is high on the list. Reason enough to dig out your college French textbook and have another go.