Lasso Montreal: A Review!▪

LASSO Montréal is built for big choruses and bigger sunsets, and this year’s two-day run at Parc Jean-Drapeau leaned into both. The city that prides itself on eclectic taste put on cowboy boots again and didn’t look back. Friday belonged to radio darling Bailey Zimmerman and a one-two nostalgia and renewal punch from Sheryl Crow and Shaboozey; Saturday swung warm and ragged with Jelly Roll’s open-hearted finale and a run of sets that showcased how wide the genre can stretch without splitting at the seams.

This was my first Lasso Festival and as much as I prepared myself, I don’t think anyone can be truly ready for this type of experience. Country fans have a totally different energy than any other crowd I’ve ever witnessed. Under the hot August sun with the Coors beer flowing like cool Rocky Mountain springs, I was bombarded by an endless swarm of Stetsons and cowboy boots and not much else in terms of clothing.

My first reaction when I saw Sheryl Crow‘s name on the Lasso billing was, “Who is Bailey Zimmerman, and why does his name appear larger than hers?” I guess over 40 years as a professional musician, selling over 50 million records, winning nine Grammys and being nominated for countless others, as well as being inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame, doesn’t really mean much when you’re just a girl.

Anyhow, I caught some of Charles Wesley Godwin’s set which was great. I’m not familiar with his music, but his cover of Take Me Home, Country Roads was a wonderfully nostalgic crowd pleaser that had all of us singing along.

Then I had to wrestle through the throng of Wild West wannabes to see Shaboozey. He was worth every whiff of B.O., beer breath and Axe body spray. Shaboozey’s rich voice, warm smile and genuine humility were a breath of fresh air. My favourite track was Blink Twice.

Shaboozey’s set felt like a victory lap after a year of chart demolition, and the crowd treated it that way. A Bar Song (Tipsy) has been a record-breaker in Canada, so hearing it once felt celebratory; hearing it twice felt like the festival’s unspoken thesis: if you’ve got the song of the summer, play it again and let the island sing.

I’m not a big fan of outdoor concerts because I like to be seated, don’t want to suffer from extreme heat or rain and also I’ve grown accustomed to being close to the stage. I left Shaboozey’s set early to try and get a good spot for Miss Crow. So I waited 30 years to watch Sheryl Crow from a screen. Thankfully, she sounded fantastic. Her vocals were strong, and her band was excellent. At 63 she was in fine form with tight fringed jeans and a fitted vest. She switched easily from bass guitar to electric and acoustic. Strutting across the stage, like a rock goddess, warmly, exclaiming, in her southern drawl, I love me some Canada.

Every single song on her list was a hit. And everyone in the crowd knew all the words to each one except for a new track The New Normal. Which is a banger.

I had almost forgotten what a brilliantly prolific song writer Sheryl Crow is. It felt really good to sing out loud with thousands of fans, lyrics that meant so many things to so many people.

“If it makes you happy it can’t be that bad.”

“A change will do you good.”

“All I wanna do is have some fun.”

One of the moments that made everything all worthwhile was when she said this one’s for the kids and the cool guitar riff for Real Gone echoed through Parc Jean-Drapeau. I had brought my son with me and we don’t hang out much anymore. He’s 21 but at that moment he was grinning like when he was three, playing with his Lightning McQueen car.

She closed with my favourite, “Everyday is a winding road,” which got me feeling quite nostalgic. I’ve been singing that song since I was young and carefree. And then I sang it as a mom to my kid. And to hear her singing it in person with my son was everything.

Outside that personal blur, Crow’s set was basically a masterclass in pacing. “Steve McQueen” up front, a mid-set turn through “Real Gone” and the still-new “The New Normal,” then the inevitable run of “All I Wanna Do,” “Soak Up the Sun,” and “Everyday Is a Winding Road.” The hits have travelled well. They’re broken-in leather, not museum pieces.

Bailey Zimmerman closed Friday in full arena mode: big hooks, bigger screens, and choruses built for six-foot-wide singalongs. He’s built for scale, and he delivered.

Saturday shifted tone. Jelly Roll was the closer, and he brought a completely different kind of presence. Tattoos, grin, voice like sandpaper soaked in honey. His connection with the crowd was palpable. The most powerful moment came when he dedicated “Winning Streak” to a fan named Mike who had just gotten sober. Later, he read a message about someone’s mother who couldn’t be there and offered love to the family. You could feel the goosebumps ripple across the field.

Riley Green’s set earlier in the day was all grit and easy charm. His voice was steady, his songs simple and direct. The surprise came when he brought Dasha on stage to duet “Don’t Mind If I Do” and “You Look Like You Love Me.” The chemistry was instant and gave the day a tender lift.

Tucker Wetmore was pure charisma. He had the crowd eating out of his hand, striding the stage like it was his personal backyard. Dasha’s solo set confirmed her rising star status—playful, high energy, and even diving into the crowd for a line dance.

The Dead South kept things rowdy with their cello-banjo stomp, while Québec Redneck Bluegrass Project leaned into humour and grit, proudly local and undeniably fun. Cameron Whitcomb, despite fighting mic issues and delays, squeezed in a handful of songs including Quitter, showing grit in the face of a tough break.

By the time the sun set on Saturday and Jelly Roll closed things down, Lasso had once again cemented itself as one of Montreal’s most distinctive festivals. Yes, the bathroom lines were punishing. Yes, everything cost too much. But when Shaboozey doubled down on Tipsy, when Crow bared her heart in Everyday Is a Winding Road, when Jelly Roll stopped his set to embrace a fan’s recovery story—those were the moments that lingered.

I’m not usually one for outdoor festivals. I don’t like the dust, the heat, or the shoulder-to-shoulder slog through thousands of bodies. But Lasso snuck under my skin. It reminded me that country music, in all its sincerity and melodrama, has a way of cutting through the noise. I had almost forgotten what a brilliantly prolific songwriter Sheryl Crow is and how good it feels to shout lyrics you’ve lived with for decades in the company of strangers.

Lasso Montréal 2025 left many people sunburnt, sweaty, and broke. But it also left them humming, remembering, and maybe even a little grateful for a weekend that turned an island in the St. Lawrence into a temporary outpost of country music culture. It felt like Montreal being itself, only this time with a twang.