Lately, I haven’t been too excited to see any shows, wondering, perhaps, if after 45 years maybe I’ve seen enough? I’m not that wide-eyed skinny punk riot girl anymore, and staying out late on weeknights is getting more and more exhausting.
But every time I feel like giving up, somehow the algorithm tosses me a treat. Then I get sucked back in.
From the moment I heard that fuzzy guitar tone and saw that really cool girl singing “Shake,” I was hooked. I couldn’t wait until The Courettes came to Montreal, so I arranged a Zoom interview right away.
When I got to Foufounes Électriques around 8, I was surprised to find that the show would be in one of the smaller rooms upstairs. I couldn’t resist peeking through the curtains where Flavia and Martin were chilling on a couch and said an awkward hello. (The Internet has tricked me into believing that I know people if I’ve spoken to them on Zoom.) They told me they would be on around 9:30 and that there were two openers.
First up was local punk band The Soreheads, who surprised me with their wild and raw vibe. Lead vocalist Maria spewed loads of fem rage lyrics with songs like “No Means No,” “My Body My Choice,” and “I’m Tired of Being a Woman,” while guitarist Ally matched her frenetic energy. My favourite track was their latest single called “Ratlike,” which reminded me of Bikini Kill. Their EP, entitled I’m Not Your Fucking Sex Doll, is coming out this fall.
By the time the next band, The Low Sixes, came on, it was already after nine, and I had a feeling it was gonna be a long night. The lead singer began yelling out some angry shit and pointing his finger. I took a few photos, listened a little bit, and then ended up going outside to the bar area. I could tell that they were seasoned musicians, but I just wasn’t feeling it, and I wanted to save my energy for the main event.
I was expecting a larger crowd, but there were three other shows in the city, and it was a Monday night. I felt bad that The Courettes came all the way from Denmark — their first time in Canada — and the promoters didn’t sell enough tickets. Actually, a fan did come up to me at the end of the show and told me that she discovered the band after watching my interview. Thanks, Melodie.
The size of the audience did not deter The Courettes from giving us a performance we’d never forget. They did not show their disappointment and put their heart and soul into each song. Martin ordered us to cheer louder, and Flavia invited everyone closer to the stage. They played loud, and they played hard — and made a hell of a lot of noise for only two people. Martin pounded the hell out of those drums, and Flavia shredded her custom-made Billy Childish Cadillac guitar like a super groovy rock goddess.
Bouncing across the stage in her black and white go-go boots, red and white mod mini dress, and thick black winged eyeliner, with her long black hair flying across her face, Flavia embodied the true spirit of rock ’n’ roll. She commanded the crowd, pointing the neck of her guitar at us like a gun. And she even crowd-surfed, lying on her back while playing as we carried her.
Before playing “Misfits and Freaks,” Martin inquired if there were any freaks and misfits in the crowd (as if he had to ask). And that’s when I realised that maybe I hadn’t seen enough shows. As I looked across the room and saw the diverse mix of fans — mods, punks, rockers, young and old, and everyone else in between — we were all happy to be there. Yeah, it was a Monday night, and yeah, we were no longer teenagers, but The Courettes gave us permission to be free and have fun.
My favourite tracks were “Boom! Dynamite” and “Shake,” which was the encore and had everyone dancing.
After the show, I went to the merch table where Flavia was signing vinyls with that sweaty post-show afterglow. I apologised for the low turnout as if it were my fault. She gave me a strong hug and thanked me for coming. I told her she played like a fucking rockstar bitch, and her smile lit up the dark and dingy club. Martin was helping the crew pack up the gear, and I looked at that magical white guitar one last time. It had a large “F” on it for Flavia — and I would also say for fantastic, fearless, ferocious, and, of course, fabulous.
Review & photos – Annette Aghazarian
Share this :
