What do you get when you combine a talented singer-songwriter, a charismatic opener, and a rowdy, energetic crowd? Wyatt Flores’ Montreal show at the Beanfield Theatre on a Friday night, presented by Lasso, of course!
The night kicked off with Zandi Holup, a self-proclaimed sad hippie cowgirl songwriter from Pennsylvania. Holup put on a vocal display while bringing us on an emotional journey through her traumas. Her songs are tragic yet comforting, and her performance was beautiful and subdued. She’s a great songwriter, and we look forward to more from her.
After Holup set the stage, Wyatt Flores took over, and folks, this man is a storyteller. He started strong with “Welcome to the Plains” and “Travelin’ Kid”—a couple of tracks that are the musical equivalent of a warm hug from your childhood friend who moved away. These tunes had the audience leaning in, nodding along like we were all collectively remembering something important about life—like how to tie our shoes or why your ex’s dog was actually the best part of the relationship.
As the night went on, Wyatt hit us with some serious life lessons—and I’m not just talking about “Life Lessons” (though that one was a highlight). He brought out gems like “Break My Bones,” and by the time he played “Stillwater,” the crowd was fully in his grip, hanging on every word about love, loss, and the occasional existential crisis that comes with being alive in 2024.
And then—OH, THEN—he hit us with “I Believe in God,” a track that made even the most non-spiritual folks in the crowd feel like they’d just taken a spiritual bath in the best possible way. Everyone was on the same wavelength, swaying and thinking, “You know what? Maybe I do believe in something after all.” Bravo, Wyatt.
But then, it happened—the crowd discovered their inner soccer fan. You think a crowd at a country folk concert is just there for deep emotional experiences? Think again. The “Ole Ole” chant erupted out of nowhere. And yes, it was as confusing as it sounds. Wyatt, probably slightly bewildered but definitely amused, rolled with it like a pro. Honestly, I’m not sure if the chant was in response to the music, the atmosphere, or if some dude in the back was just really invested in his beer. But hey, it was a vibe. A weird, unexplainable, but definitely memorable vibe.
Aside from the chant situation (which, again, we may never fully understand), the crowd energy was generally amazing. But as any concertgoer knows, there’s always that group—the ones who can’t seem to understand that talking during the quieter songs ruins the vibe. Yes, we heard you chatting by the bar during “Losing Sleep,” and no, we don’t need to hear about your weekend plans while Wyatt’s pouring his heart into “Don’t Wanna Say Goodnight.”
Wyatt ended the night with the power-packed encore, “Running Out of Time,” which felt appropriately dramatic. At this point, the crowd had fully transitioned into sing-along mode. By the time he played “West of Tulsa,” you could practically feel the communal nostalgia in the room—the kind of energy you get when you’ve spent the whole evening singing, swaying, and experiencing what can only be described as a musical journey.
Wyatt Flores’ show at the Beanfield Theatre was, to put it lightly, a good time. There was soul, there were “Ole Ole” chants, and there was definitely some mild frustration over people talking by the bar. But the music? Incredible. The energy? Infectious.
If you’re not already a fan of Wyatt Flores, get on it—and make sure you show up with your A-game, because this is the kind of show where the crowd’s energy might surprise you. And if you’re not careful, you might even catch yourself chanting along (just don’t tell anyone). This man is destined for stardom. Soon, he will be headlining festivals, and we will be able to say we saw him back when he was just 23.
What a night.
Review & photos – Eric Brisson
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