A chilly Montreal Thursday feels like the right backdrop for a band that has spent two decades wrestling with hope, doubt and the occasional cosmic crisis. The Dears took the stage at Le National for their hometown show, celebrating Life Is Beautiful! Life Is Beautiful! Life Is Beautiful! and reminding everyone that Murray Lightburn and Natalia Yanchak still know how to turn introspection into something loud enough to shake the room.
Before any of that happened, Mellonella warmed things up with the kind of charm only a band featuring Lightburn and Yanchak’s daughter Neptune could pull off. Their set wasn’t a novelty act. It felt like a family tree sprouting a new branch, one that bends toward fuzzy guitars and earnest melodies. There was a looseness to their performance, the kind that comes from young musicians who haven’t clocked enough gigs to feel self-conscious yet. The connection to Lightburn and Yanchak hovered over the room, sure, but Mellonella more than held their own. It takes guts to open for your parents, especially when your parents specialize in big feelings and even bigger arrangements.
Next up was Thanya Iyer, whose set floated across the venue with an almost meditative presence. Her band moved with intuitive ease, weaving gentle piano lines, soft percussion and experimental touches that hinted at jazz without committing to it. Her voice felt like it had its own weather system, drifting between clarity and haze. If Mellonella gave the night its youthful pulse, Iyer gave it room to breathe.
When The Dears finally walked out, the audience responded like old friends greeting one another after a long lapse. Le National isn’t enormous, but it holds sound in a way that can make even a five-piece band feel like they’re storming the heavens. Lightburn leaned into that atmosphere, pacing the stage with quiet confidence. There’s less thrashing now, fewer dramatic lunges at the microphone, but the conviction remains. His voice, always a marvel, has shifted into its own late style, steady and expressive without needing theatrics.
The new material formed the emotional spine of the set. Gotta Get My Head Right, which took over a decade to finally click into place, arrived early and landed with the weight of a personal revelation put to melody. Lightburn sang it like someone who’s tried all the self-help books, tossed half away, and decided the only real cure was writing the right chord progression. The track carried a lived-in warmth, amplified by the fact that so much of it was shaped during the dizzying years of parenthood, solo projects and pandemic uncertainty.
Tears of a Nation hit harder than expected. On the album, it wrestles with frustration and fatigue without spiralling into hopelessness. Live, it had a spark of electricity, thanks to the band locking in tightly around Rémi-Jean Leblanc’s bass lines. Lightburn’s delivery edged from lament toward steady resolve. You could feel the room lean in, not because the lyrics preached, but because they sounded honest.
The band, now a well-grooved unit with guitarist Steve Raegele and drummer Jeff Luciani rounding things out, played with assurance rather than flash. Raegele’s guitar work, especially on older songs, threaded between sharp textures and gentle shimmer. Luciani’s drumming stayed crisp without overpowering the more delicate moments. Yanchak’s vocals, as always, came in like shade on a hot day, tempering Lightburn’s intensity with calm steadiness. Add strings, horns and bass to the equation and the number of musicians on stage hit double figures.
The older material still drew huge cheers. Songs from No Cities Left and Gang of Losers were sprinkled in, each one greeted like a postcard from a younger era. What struck me most was how well they sat alongside the new songs. The Dears have never really shed their theatrical leanings, but they use them differently now. Instead of grand gestures simply for scale, they’re leaning toward clarity.
The crowd, a mix of longtime devotees and curious newcomers, stayed engaged throughout, though the room collectively softened during the quieter numbers. Montreal audiences can be selective about when they choose to participate, but here they stayed present, even reverent.
22: The Death of All the Romance closed the night with the kind of slow burn The Dears handle better than almost anyone. The song unfurled patiently, its melancholy never sliding into melodrama, and Lightburn sang it with a steadiness that felt earned rather than dramatic. Yanchak’s harmonies slipped in like a second thought that somehow held everything together. By the time the final chords faded, the room had settled into a quiet that didn’t feel heavy so much as reflective, a collective exhale before stepping back out into the Montreal cold.
The Dears are in a stage of their career where they don’t need to reinvent themselves. They sound comfortable, not in a complacent way, but in the sense that they’ve figured out which emotional levers matter and how to pull them with intention. The new album reflects this clarity, and the live show emphasizes it even further. They’re not trying to reclaim past glory or chase trends. They’re focusing on what they do best: creating moments that feel communal, even when the subject matter leans heavy.
Review & photos – Steve Gerrard
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