Fucked Up Are M For Mistreated In Montreal

Why don't I give the M For Montreal alliteration game a try, since everyone else was doing it this past weekend?

M stood for music, Montreal, (venue) Metropolis, bands such as Malajube, the new Molson beer M and even people's names, like M For Metropolis host MC Gilles, during the three-day local music showcase.

Well, after Saturday's huge M For Montreal finale concert series, one might also say M could stand for mistreated, in reference to horribly disrespected Toronto headliners Fucked Up. Or how about M for misanthropic, for all those conceited Montreal music fans (and the industry people who ditched as well) too cool to ever give a band starring a fat, shirtless Torontonian the chance to impress?

On the whole, Montrealers are supportive of live music, whether they be local acts or visitors — that is, provided the music you play is either clean or arty. Despite Montreal and M's constant back-patting and self-flagellation about a warm community built from the ground up and without outside interference, the truth is that Montrealers can be downright reticent and hostile beyond McGill University music majors thumping away on timpanis or easily danceable music. That's why hip-hop and punk remain on the periphery, despite the abundance of quality local acts in both scenes.

This isn't meant to be a judgmental tongue lashing because M For Metropolis was a great way to cap off what was an improved M For Montreal fest. It's unlikely any real headway was made on the networking and business side of things, but Montreal's current bumper crop of groups proved the well has yet to be completely tapped, and the non-Montreal acts held their own amid tough circumstances.

If anything, the international delegates left Montreal thinking the city's reputation as a carefree party pit remains intact, and that's reason enough for them to book a return visit in 2010.

M For Metropolis, in particular, is a good way for the international delegates to observe the acts in their own element, playing to hospitable fans rather than shuffling sheepishly to industry vets.

Punk rocker and part-time mixed martial artist Xavier Cafeine was as sharply dressed as Adam Ant, shimmying like Mick Jagger and displaying the infectious confidence of The Hives' Howlin' Pelle Almqvist. His 2006 ultra-catchy hit single "Gisele" received one of the night's loudest pops, an impressive feat considering the venue was still far from full when he sauntered on stage.

Electro-pop crossover artist Misstress Barbara performed next, continuing her successful transition from club DJ to performer and singer. Well, she largely still talk-sings on stage, but Barbara's confidence and abilities to excite a crowd as a frontwoman — backed by the all-male backing band Girls On A Ducati — are certainly growing.

Another formidable woman, Montreal rock royalty Melissa Auf Der Maur, followed Barbara. Her new album comes out in 2010, but based on first single "Out Of Our Minds" and her M For Metropolis set, all indications are Auf Der Maur and her band have no qualms about rocking out to extended instrumental sections (occasionally bordering on all-out metal wankage).

One of the more unlikely highlights of the night came in the form of local comedian and internet sensation Jon Lajoie appearing on a projection screen in between acts. Although there were a lot of grumbles at first, Lajoie's hip-hop alter-egos and mangled French made for better downtime entertainment than the likely alternative of hearing M dude Mikey Bernard yammer endlessly.

"People ask me why I prefer Montreal to Los Angeles," Lajoie said in French. "It's because I've never been raped in Montreal."

Malajube and Champion may just be a casual curiosities elsewhere, but they could each headline a spacious venue like the 2,400 person capacity Metropolis in Quebec.

This became evident early in Malajube's surprisingly hard rocking set — to the point where they were playing mostly instrumental-based non-singles and still receiving a rapturous applause after each song.

Malajube aren't viewed as a quirky, francophone indie band with cute arrangements and faint vocals anymore, but rather a straightforward stadium-built rock 'n' roll band. "Montreal -40C" was greeted with such rabid approval the international delegates probably thought the tune was the Montreal equivalent of "A Design For Life" (ask your British friends).

Champion, minus the DJ prefix and now fronted by wailing male frontman Pilou Côté, is essentially the Molson M of music. Molson's latest beer is allegedly infused with carbon dioxide, making it bubbly, effervescent and rather peppy. It's also watery, devoid of taste and substance, but if you drink enough of them, you start to appreciate the refreshing consistency.

A Champion Et Ses G-Strings set is a lot like an extended beer commercial: it's house music played with guitars, making it easy to dance to, repetitive and rocking enough for beer swilling thugs to air guitar to.

Côté, though, is a natural lead singer for that type of genuine big rock band, and although former lead singer Betty Bonifassi (now with Beast) was essential to the first album's success, Côté's clean-cut American Idol persona and mega-pipes are probably better suited for Champion 2.0.

One could sense the energy being sucked out of the room after Champion's set. It was obvious the paying customers were here to catch Champion and Malajube, while the delegates were ready to move on to the many after-parties. M For Montreal organizers pleaded with everyone to stick around for Polaris Music Prize-winning headliners Fucked Up, but the crowd continued to shrink until it was only photographers, hardcore fans and a few curious gawkers who stuck around for the Toronto punk rockers.

Clearly, organizers Sebastien Nasra and Mikey Bernard knew this would happen — that Fucked Up were simply too out there for casual Montreal music fans, whose tastes are as discriminating as they are skin deep. It's doubtful the decision to give them the headliner spot was misguided — had they come on before Malajube or Champion most people would have gone for a smoke break anyway.

Fucked Up frontman Damian "Pink Eyes" Abraham knew they were lambs being led to the slaughter, essentially being asked to perform mop up duty as the room emptied out.

But the group have been in tighter spots on their slow ascent to Canadian music prominence, and Pink Eyes affixed plastic cups to his nipples and attacked his forehead with his microphone with the same ferocious passion as he would have had the venue remained full. To witness Canada's best live act play in an empty, cavernous Metropolis was a surreal thrill — an ironic celebration of M For Montreal's supposed mission to showcase and support artists.

Pink Eyes dropped to the empty floor (where only photographers and a few dozen moshers remained) and discovered his portly body couldn't get back on stage. He spent the rest of the night picking up fans, writhing on the ground, and even tackling some highly appreciative soul near the end (a pileup ensued, with Pink Eyes looking not unlike Carol from Where The Wild Things Are.

"There are more people documenting this performance than actually watching it," he joked at one point.

It had a haunting Live At Pompeii feeling, like you were observing the band perform live yet from a considerable distance.

Don't cry for Fucked Up, because this failed attempt to pull off a My Fair Lady and present the group to respectable society probably came as a surprise to no one, including the band. They did prove why they've built such a dedicated fanbase over they years, though, because they brought their Gregorian symphonic orgy of violent energy and classic rock 'n' roll tendencies with the vigour for those lucky few who stayed, no doubt winning a handful of new fans for life in the process.

Fucked Up will always be the recipient of snickers and jokes from the pretentious musical elite (read: the confused onlookers at the Polaris Music Prize ceremony), but in leading up to M For Montreal, I was really hoping Montreal would do something no other city probably would and give the Toronto group a chance to prove it can achieve mass appeal despite their coarseness.

Fucked Up certainly aren't for everybody, but M For Montreal proved that even in a showcase format everyone comes armed with their prejudices.