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Parlovr

There isn’t really much time to think. You’re only in town for four days and you want to film as many bands as you can without feeling like a video factory. You seek out contacts, collect suggestions from anyone and everyone, go with your gut instinct or on the strong recommendations of others, you make meetings and arrive with no other option than to abandon yourself to your first impressions.

This was our state when we met Parlovr in Montreal. We had no idea what they looked like; we barely knew who we were about to meet. All that we knew was that they had a good reputation, and two powerful songs, lyrical with a strong and sometimes overwhelming melody, which left us hoping for an intense afternoon.

We could have imagined that Parlovr were serious guys, dedicated to their work, unsociable, reflecting the aggressiveness of their songs. We would have been wrong: they were three dudes lounging on a couch, offering us beer, happy to loaf around in the sun that pierced the bay window in their studio, and ready to laugh and make fools of themselves.

In the end, spending three hours with the trio allowed us to grasp the finesse with which they riff, on their album, on the clichés of the Montreal scene. Music which, from the moment they launch into it, hashes out local styles, angry vocals, instruments all launched like a tremendous scream.

Even their more facetious songs seem to play with conventions, mocking themselves. This music is, above all, played with pleasure. In front of abandoned factories, in an old tunnel, with a city councillor passing by…

Translated by Tara Dominguez


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