Temples perform during Osheaga on Aug. 5, 2017.Tim Snow
Nobody gets a pass from construction detours in Montreal, not even major music festivals. Osheaga had to move to a different island this year, from Ste.-Helène to Notre-Dame, though one could say it was their own fault for being so successful.
Exponential growth of the three-day festival since it began in 2006 is one reason the authority that runs Ste-Helène's Parc Jean-Drapeau launched a two-year renovation that will create several new permanent facilities, including a 65,000-seat amphitheatre. Montreal Mayor Denis Coderre says the complex will be an all-season venue that will revive "the spirit of Expo 67" in a part of the city that can feel a bit desolate.
Osheaga divides its daily audience of about 45,000 among seven stages, so a huge new amphitheatre isn't an obvious gain. But Evenko, the ubiquitous event promoter that produces the festival, will definitely benefit from it, and from permanent upgrades at Ste-Helène.
No one at Sunday's concerts seemed fazed by the detours away from familiar sites of previous years, unambiguously indicated by a maze of high metal fencing. Most of the irritation over the construction is being voiced by swimmers and cyclists denied use of an aquatic centre and cycling track for much of the summer, and by those who wonder how much sway private companies should have over public space.
The Ste-Helène renovations are expected to cost $73.4-million, split between city and provincial governments. The politicians who closed the deal say that Montreal will gain economically and socially through more recreational activity on the island. The project's critics say the more you configure public space to suit the business plans of private companies, the less truly public it becomes.
In Montreal, the line between public and private space can be soft. Example: Anyone carrying a bag through the pedestrianized, Quartier des Spectacles part of Saint Catherine Street during the latest edition of the Montreal International Jazz Festival was told by volunteers at checkpoints that their bag had to be searched. The volunteer who tried this on me seemed surprised to hear that not even the police can legally make this demand just because you're walking down a section of public street.
On Île Notre-Dame on Sunday, there wasn't a corner of the island that didn't feel like Osheaga-land, which is to be expected at a well-seasoned event that knows how to control crowds and manage what they see and hear. The festival attempted to meet concerns last year about safety for women with a team of specially trained security personnel (Les Hirondelles), and as in previous years, Montreal's Groupe de recherche et d'intervention psychosociale provided a harm-reduction space for drug users.
The fun was dampened and sometimes delayed by rains during the festival's opening days. Sunday was fair, however, for offerings by Canadian stars such as the Weeknd, Death From Above 1979 and Crystal Castles, as well as talents from away that included Die Antwoord, Little Dragon and the entertainingly crazy rap trio Flatbush Zombies.
Die Antwoord, a media-savvy hip-hop group from South Africa, may have been the most attuned to the spirit of our times, infusing a playfully erotic punk sensibility with a feeling of apocalyptic horror. If that doesn't sound like fun, you may have been at a different stage.
Little Dragon and Foxygen both drew sustenance from Motown, the former in the context of cool and heavy club beats, the latter in a wild melange of styles and segues. "What the hell was that?" one man near me said, not disapprovingly, after a number that ricocheted all over the place.
Osheaga, which also encompasses a multitude of styles, will be camping out on Notre-Dame for another year. Only the most committed optimist would imagine that the debate over who really controls public space will be resolved by the time the festival returns to Ste-Helène in 2019.