It’s only when being driven up to Rouyn-Noranda from Toronto that I realize the strangeness of this summer ending ritual that I’ve come to depend on. Being a part-time passenger on this third trip lets me focus less on the insanity of Ontarian drivers and more on the anticipation.
I have to confess that for me this weekend is equal parts reunion and festival. It’s only through close friendships with « the natives », that I ‘discovered’ FME.
In many ways these friendships provided much needed wind in my sails during extended music and cultural doldrums (of my own design).
You see, some five or six years ago, I became a victim of “The Ontarian Dream”. For some reason, having attained a stable relationship, a house and a good job, I felt it was time to settle. For everything. Everything was « good enough », so I should have been happy. So I was miserable.
One of the most depressing things that occurred was a diminished curiosity for new music. There’s nothing sadder that a 30 year old becoming nostalgic for tunes he listened to in high school. It’s right up there with watching 40+ year olds rush a wedding dance floor when « Old Time Rock and Roll », or « Don’t Stop Believing » comes on.
Enter, Disruptive Quebecer Influence (should be a punk band).
I’ll spare you the gory details, but in short order, I was down to « the good job » and up a bunch of new friends. I’ve since won back my sense of musical curiosity, and happiness abounds.
The only trouble with FME, is the conflict that arises between ones musical curiosity and FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out). I put in a lot of time pre-listening to some of the acts this year. As usual, the programmers did too good a job. Inevitably, the festival will demand some Sophie’s Choice moments from you. But that’s part of the fun.
Tonight for example. What will it be? Karim Ouellett or Besnard Lakes. Dammit, sometimes I think it would be easier picking your favourite child.

-Zeus

As far as self-directed musical education goes, mine was uniquely slow and awkward.
My parents were immigrants from very austere living situations in their home countries. So austere that, even as twenty-somethings in the sixties, the seismic shifts in pop culture and music were so far removed from their reality that they missed it entirely. (Asking my father about the Rolling Stones will only win you a quizzical glance. Ask him about science, engineering or history, and epic lectures will ensue). After moving to Canada they had very limited time and money to devote to the very first world pursuit of « consuming » music.
But, as many struggling immigrants often do, they encouraged my sister and I to take up an instrument, preferably inexpensive ones. Rebel that my sister was, she chose piano. (Sorry Ma)
When it came to discovering music, we had free reign. It could have been a harsh desert to wander, but fortunately there appeared Much Music which debuted in 1984. The same year that my sister and I jointly purchased the Rock ’84 LP. (Thank you K-Tel! Rock ’84 )
It was an auspicious, yet humble beginning to my musical education.
One of my goals at this year’s FME is to mine the stories of musical awakening from the mouths of the the artists themselves. I want all the pimply awkwardness, as well as the tearfully profound moments of discovery.
To all the musicians and festival goers of FME: please feel free to open up about your musical youth when Zeus comes calling. Everyone can benefit from revisiting those innocent times, and it makes for some great drinking stories.

À Bientôt!

-Zeus