Like
a sudden, brilliant explosion of energy, Montreal jolts
to life every summer. After a long and unforgiving winter,
and far too often dreary Aprils and Mays, come July, or
as Stevie Wonder sings (Hotter Than July) the city transforms
into pulsing landscape of live music, comedy and cultural
festivals, as the streets hum with eclectic and electric
vitality. Among this whirlwind of activity, one event,
along with the city's iconic jazz festival, stands above
the rest, serving as the city’s most anticipated
happening: the Festival International Nuits d'Afrique.
Now celebrating its 40th anniversary, it stands as arguably
the finest festival of its kind in the entire Western
Hemisphere.
Maintaining this stature is no simple feat. The organizers
face a perenniel challenge: how do you honour the sacred
sources of tradition while welcoming the cutting-edge
fusion that defines today’s global stage? They succeed
because they understand that tradition isn't a ancient
relic be kept behind glass. It is a living, breathing,
evolving journey. By inviting international audiences
to witness the kaleidoscopic spectrum of African music—from
the ancient, intricate motifs of the Griots to the electrifying,
genre-defying Afro beats echoing out of the diaspora hub
that Montreal has become—the festival keeps its
pulse on the future while its boots are firmly planted
in the blood, sweat and tears of history.
Montreal itself is the secret ingredient in this equation.
The city has become a sanctuary and a creative home for
a growing and incredibly diverse diaspora community. Because
so many people from across the African continent have
chosen to plant their root natty roots in Montreal, the
city acts as a natural, and ever expansive hosting stage.
The festival doesn't just import talent; it mirrors the
city’s actual identity. It maps out the full, vibrant
gamut of African sound, showcasing not only century's
deep ancestral rhythms but also the music those rhythms
have influenced and been transformed by in return. So
if the genesis of the music is an ongoing synergy of give
and take, it doesn't take long for both locals and tourists
alike to realize that Les Nuits d'Afrique is a festival
that gives and gives.
Whether you are catching an intimate cabaret concert or
small club session where musicians elaborate on and improvise
off carefully conceived leitmotifs particular to a culture
or personal feeling, or you are lost in the massive, kinetic
energy of the 6-day-long free outdoor stages in the Quartier
des spectacles, the festival makes the complex history
of the past -- as it lives in the present -- wonderfully
accessible. There is a palpable shift in the air when
the Quartier des spectacles transforms into a focal point
of vibrant colours, scent, and sound – and tactility.
You feel the ground vibrate beneath you as the drums begin
and the bass cranks up to produce a vibration that connects
thousands of strangers in a single, shared moment of joy.
Much of this creative direction is guided by programmer-in-chief
Suzanne Rousseau, the festival’s own éminence
grise. She has a keen ear for all the seaons. Her
direction is accomodating and yet transformative, and
her discretion is unmatched in an industry too often surrendering
to style over substance. During the past several years,
and despite unholy budget restrictions, the programming
team has built a platform that bridges the generations.
I
must make mention of another important team that works
in the shadows. The outstanding sound quality at MTELUS
has never been better; as the 2026 edition of Les Nuits
d'Afrique roared to life when Aboulaye Koné took
the stage and reminded us exactly why he is a master of
his craft.
Born
into the griot tradition, he brought his signature, infectious
Mandingo rhythms to the fore and they immediately worked
their magic, leaving the enthusiastic crowd unable to
keep still. His guitar work is something else entirely;
he has a way of playing that makes the instrument shimmer
like a kora one moment, only to pivot into sharp, dissonant
textures the next. His runs are breathtaking. He stays
remarkably true to that core African sound, treating notes
like percussive, fleeting plucks rather than the long,
sustained solos we are used to in Western music. It all
held together thanks to an incredible rhythm section.
The bass was at once subtle and inventive, but the percussionist
was the real élan vital of the night,
driving the performance with deliciously infectious counter-intuitive,
counter beats that spoke to the pre-eminence of his gifts,
and instrument that he wears like a second skin. He kept
it simple and made every tap count.
However, that was merely the prelude to the true centerpiece
of the evening: the inimitable Malian superstar, Oumou
Sangaré. From the moment she stepped into the spotlight,
she commanded the stage with an unmistakable, regal aura
that held the entire room in a state of anticipation.
She was backed up by a band so tight they seemed to breathe
as a single organism, capable of pivoting on a dime to
support her considerable emotive range. While deeply grounded
in Wassoulou, which is rooted in the Mandigo sound, Sangaré
showed no hesitation in pushing the boundaries of that
heritage. The ensemble boldly opted for unusual time signatures,
including a mesmerizing 3/4 waltz that was completely
subverted by dense, interlocking counter-rhythms, effectively
reconstituting the rocking chair tempo of the composition
into something more edgy and visceral.
Even
now, in her 60s, Sangaré's voice remains an unrivaled
instrument of power and grace; its seismic resonance and
passion possesses an edge and precision that can laser-sheer
stone into sand. She did not just perform the music; she
poured her entire history and spirit into it, leaving
the audience transfixed by a performance that felt both
timeless and urgent.
The
night of the kora stands out as one of the festival’s
most anticipated events.This year, the stage belonged
to Senny Camara — one of the few female masters
of the instrument — and Yamoussa Bangoura, a performer
who is as much a professional acrobat as a musician. Their
2-part concert was a departure from tradition. While past
years featured the technical gifts of the world’s
most dazzling virtuosos, this year took a quieter, more
intimate turn. The kora was played not to grab attention
but for foundation. Like a folk guitarist framing a ballad,
both artists used the instrument in support their voices.
Bangoura’s
performance was a checkerboard of original compositions,
informed by his vagabond spirit and the rich mosaic of
cultures he has encountered on his travels. But whether
in song or reaching for the stars, the effect of the sublime
21-stringed instrument remains the same. The kora’s
uniquely civilizing sound cuts through the noise, and
acts as a precious bulwark against the unrelenting confusion
and heartbreak of a world order that too often leaves
too many behind.
Music
from the Maghreb has always been a cornerstone of Les
Nuits. Those who braved the downpour to reach Le Ministère
were treated to the time-warping soundscapes of Adil Smaali
and Elements of Baraka.
The
set began with backtracks, evoking the traditional Casbah.
But moments later, digitally produced static started up,
and then the electrified guembri bass kicked in, and the
music went into another dimension, leaving the Casbah
and never to return; but it never lost its Arabic soul.
The trio's signature sound is a repetitive, dub-infused
structure that builds up into a high frequency sonic textures.
It is relentless. Dense, rhythmic patterns create an incantatory
effect, punctuated by the effects of surgical hands skimming
over a battery of high voltage, hard-wired skin drums
that hit the ear like machine-gun fire. Providing a haunting,
lyrical counterpoint to this whiplash of sound were ethereal
trumpet melodies of Cyril Lakay, reminiscent of Chet Baker’s
laid back phrasing.
Adil
Smaali’s playlist is a testament to how technology
transforms the act of creation. By juxtaposing the ancient
way with the state of the art technology, the ensemble
produces what has been described as a "transcultural
odyssey." Of course from from the purist or traditionalist
perspective, it must have felt more like a "Voyage
au bout de la nuit" — an exhausting immersion
into post-modernism and its forboding uncertainties. Either
way, it was far more than a simple concert. It was a feverish,
frenzied journey that completely redefined the boundaries
of the North African soundscape. Liking it or not liking
it is almost beside the point. It left its mark and that
is no small accomplishment.
At
the legendary Club Balattou, Montreal’s Griots—led
by the inimitable Djely Tapa — agreeably retreated
from the usual reliance on digital technology to pay soulful
homage to their acoustic roots, offering a masterclass
in the true essence of Griot music.
Griot
music is the heartbeat of West African history, acting
as a living archive where every note carries the weight
and perseverance of a people and culture. These artists
are not just performers; they are storytellers using their
instruments to breathe life into their myths and tales.
The
all-important rhythmic foundation was laid by Fa Sissokho.
His percussion did more than just keep time; it was the
pulse of the performance, providing an ear-bending dynamic
range that spoke directly to the body. The music thrives
on long, trance-like cycles that might leave a listener
— unfamiliar with the language — feeling a
bit adrift. It is easy to feel frustrated when the meaning
is locked behind a language barrier. The music demands
patience. At some point, it is simply best to surrender
to the waves of sound and compelling rhythms and let the
emotional weight of the performance wash over you.
Djely
Tapa, surely one of the city's most distinguished vocalists,
commands a voice that feels both urgent and marinated
in life's highs and lowst. She proved that while language
may create a temporary obstacle, the soul of the Griot
resonates far beyond mere words.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
As
mentioned at the outset, Les Nuits is a festival for "we,
the people," and that includes those born in the
present
century. By supplying the sounds they love and the lyrics
they know by heart, a talented roster of musicians from
Guinea paid homage to Lamine Touré—the Guinea-born
founder of Festival Les Nuits d'Afrique and the iconic
Club Balattou — distinguised recipient of the distinguished
Order of Quebec.
The
special-event evening was all about the now. It wasn't
a history lesson on roots; it was a pulse-check on the
current state of music. With most of the crowd falling
between 17 and 25, Les Nuits made its mission clear: no
one gets left behind.
The
show kicked off with the electrifying Guinean hip-hopper
Degg J, whose set spanned everything from high-energy
rap to laid back Afro-pop. Then came Sia Tolno, the Guinean
counterpart to Quebec's own Ginette Reno. A singer's singer
she commanded the stage with a soulful voice and a powerful
fusion of Afro-jazz and hip-swaying grooves. She was followed
by matinee idol, AK. Blessed with Hollywood looks and
a crooner's sensibility, his romantic brand of modern
West African R&B hit all the right notes for the swooning
female contingent in the front rows. It was a unforgettable
night of contemporary music, proving that Les Nuits knows
how to look after its own (the younger generation).
At
the National, a turn-of-the-century Belle Époque
venue located in the heart of the pedestrian-friendly
Gai Village, there wasn't a seat to be had: the floor
was packed to the stage and the horse-shoe shaped balcony
was bursting with humanity. Everyone knew what they were
there for, and Labess delivered. It was an evening where
everyone felt like they were in the winner’s circle.
Led
by the Algerian singer-songwriter and guitarist Nedjim
Bouizzoul, the group’s signature sound draws from
Andalusia in southern Spain, a region where Arab and Spaniard
once shared the same spaces and profoundly influenced
one another’s music. Bouizzoul’s percussive
guitar is the motor that drives the rhythm and soul of
the performance. While the melodies are distinctly flamenco-inspired
and underscored by the rumba tradition, his voice—with
its gravelly inflections and phrasing—remains rooted
in the Arabic tradition. Labess’s infectiously engaging,
organic sound offers an uncomplicated, stripped-down counterpart
to the style long popularized by artists like Jesse Cook,
who is well-known to Montrealers.
The
festival shifts into a higher gear once the action moves
outdoors to the Quartier des spectacles for the final
six days. It’s pure electricity. Starting in the
early afternoon, every concert is free, a policy that
seems to loosen the crowd’s spirit and turn the
entire area into a rousing, open-air party. The legendary
Timbuctou market, tucked away just behind the Loto-Québec
stage, is an absolute must-visit. It’s the heart
of the site. With its maze of kiosks and the delicious
aromas and authentic African dress and artworks (jewelry,
sculpture), for many it surely evokes "home thoughts
from abroad." Everywhere the site is humming and
buzzing. Inbetween concerts thorughout the day and evening,
the Cabaret de Nuits d'Afrique features workshops where
you can get hands-on experience with ancient instruments
or instruction on the intracacies of regional dance.
On
the Loto-Québec stage — which is dedicated
to nightly performances by women at 7:00 p.m. —
the percussion-heavy Suraras do Tapajós from Brazil
took control. They had everyone moving. Meanwhile, over
at the main stage, the Scène TD, the Cuban ensemble
Septeto de Montreal held court. They offered a masterclass
in the essentials: cha-cha-cha, mambo, and rumba. With
their layered percussion and a sharp, punchy horn section,
they made the complex rhythms look effortless.
Seeing
Sahra Halgan live is an experience that stays with you.
She has this gritty, unstoppable spirit that defines her
performance. She didn't just sing songs; she told stories
of survival during Somalia's civil war
and its lasting effects.
Her
voice was the star of the night. She uses it with the
nuanced and emotional intensity you hear in Arab music,
and more than once, she hit those high, trilling notes
that perfectly mirror the famous Arabic ululation. It
was haunting, beautiful and inspiring.
The
backdrop for all of this was a playlist of sinewy, percussive
original songs performed by her extremely competent band
for whom showmanship was a non-starter. Noteworthy was
the playing of Régis Monté on the keyboard
bass in a role as important as was Ray Manzarek's
for the Doors. He would lay down these deep, hypnotic
and repetitive grooves that pulled the audience in. Then,
the other musicians would layer their sounds on top of
that foundation, 4-voices deep, building the music up
until it reached a state of musical satori. While fusion
and world music far too often descend into parody, Halgan
and her concept-dedicated band demonstrated the true potential
of the genre. Her
show was clearly one of the highlights of this year’s
Les Nuits d'Afrique. If you missed it, you missed a rare
chance to see a remarkable lady at the top of her game.
On
the main stage, catching the Sissokho brothers and Élage
Diouf was an incredible experience. The two koras were
the stars of the show, acting as a bridge between traditions
and our post-modern world. It was an unexpected treat
listening to these tribal harps reconstituted through
electronics, creating blistering, high-octane solos that
hit the brain like a battle of buzz saws.
The
percussion kept the energy level at the breaking point
all night long. Whether it was the deep, driving sound
of the djembes or the expressive, human-like voice of
the talking drums, the contrapuntal rhythms felt like
the heartbeat of the entire performance. By syngergizing
acoustic roots with modern technology, they proved that
you can respect history while producing something forward
sounding. It was an instructive and memorable display
of music.
At
the Loto-Québec stage during the nightly 7 p.m.
"Femmes du Monde" slot, the collective Somos
Más offered a performance that felt like a bursting
of spring flowers.
Rather
than relying on flashy production, they kept it simple
— using only a guitar, bass and skins for percussion
— letting their voices do the talking. Their three-part
harmonies arrived on the ear like a gentle rain: clear,
bright and beautifully blended. Some songs were performed
entirely acappella, which created a special sense of intimacy.
During the latter half of the performance, there were
colourful dance interludes that engaged the eye no less
than the music engaged the ear.
Somos
Más reminded us that you don't need a massive sound
system to create something noteworthy; you just need a
group of friends who share a love for the music they love
to share with the world.
It
wouldn't feel like Les Nuits d’Afrique without the
classic Moorish-Andalusian sounds that the world recognizes
as flamenco. This year, the group Azara delivered the
goods -- and more.
By
combining their own original music with fresh takes on
rumba and classical flamenco, Azara was one of the musical
highlights of the festival. Their modern approach owed
much to the feel of jazz; their sound ranged from the
the earthy to the the ethereal. This was especially evident
in the long, dreamy piano runs by Gabriel Evangelista.
They provided a beautiful contrast to the husky, piercing
voice of lead singer Fernando "El Bancalero"
Gallego Torres. Interspersed throughout the concert was
plenty of clean, classical flamenco guitar and spirited
dance, reminding us that flamenco remains one of the world's
great musical forms.
Taafé
Fanga is a dance and percussion group based in Montreal.
They specialize in West African music. Their name translates
to 'skirt power.' They are heavily influenced by traditional
Mandingue rhythms, but they add a modern, urban edge to
everything they play. The instruments of choice are not
the voices, but the djembes and doundouns.
At
any given moment during the concert, a djembe drummer
would launch into a fury of complicated, contrapuntal
rhythms that felt totally improvised and even chaotic.
But when precisely joined by two other drummers, perfectly
locking into those same intricate patterns, you realized
that what you heard was not haphazard. It was the result
of hours and hours of practice and discipline. Taafé
Fanga take percussion to another level and is fully deserving
of their hard won awe and admiration. 
The
same is true for the dancers. Bursting out of the dynamo
of energy created by the percussionists, a dancer would
emerge and twist and contort in a manner that initially
struck the eye as being random and even self-indulgent.
But when joined by two or three other dancers performing
the exact same movements, you realized that their art
had been meticulously choreographed. It was the result
of months of labour-intensive work.
The
Taafé Fanga concert was a lesson in syncopation
and coordination. Yet, they never sacrificed the joy and
spontaneity of making music together. Their wild spirit
left no doubt that primal energy and polished performance
can perfectly co-exist.
Lorraine
Klaasen needs no introduction to Montreal. Having graced
the Festival International Nuits d'Afrique stage since
its inception, she remains the festival’s enduring
queen.
Her
setlist journeyed through many moods. She moved effortlessly
from traditional dance-friendly African song to selections
anchored in rock. One of the many highlights was an unexpectedly
atmospheric rendition of George Gershwin’s "Summertime."
She inhabited the song with body and soul, turning the
beloved classic into something deeply personal.
Klaasen
was backed by a competent seven-piece band, but -- and
it must be said -
-
the horn section underperformed bigtime: both trumpet
and saxophone solos were memorably lackluster. That said,
and make no mistake about it -- the singer was always
in total command. She owned the night and remains a vital
festival force.
For
the grand finale of the 40th anniversary of the Les Nuits
d’Afrique, the award-winning Brazilian ensemble
Temboreal Samba Bloco made sure they wound up the audience
for the perfect wind up. Featuring no fewer than ten 
percussionists
who transformed the ebullient crowd into a kinetic particle
machine, the group brought an unmistakingly joyous energy
to the stage.
Lead
singer Thaynare Peri is undeniably striking, and her stage
presence ensures that fact is never in doubt; yet, between
the sometimes overwhelming power of the percussion and
her stunning appearance, it is all too easy to overlook
her sophisticated
songwriting and agreeably cozy vocals —
reminiscent of jazz singer Stacey Kent. In a perfect world
-- and ours, pace Leonard Cohen, is but "half the
perfect world" -- substance shouldn't have to compete
with style.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
I've
said it before and I'll sing its praises out loud once
again, there is something to be said for the enduring
power of melody, especially in an era where we often feel
musically shortchanged. It is worth noting that according
to the numbers, the most successful female vocalists (Swift,
Beyonce) frequently rely on melodic complexity for their
streaming success, in stark contrast to the most popular
male vocalists (Drake, B-Bunny) for whom monotonal music
(hip-hop) takes precedent.
Without
apology, Cape Verde’s Elida Almeida stepped onto
the stage for the women's hour and delivered a set that
satisfied our deepest cravings for melody. Her show was
captivating. Whether her mood leaned toward the exuberant
and joyful or drifted into something sad and whimsical,
she delivered at the highest level, investing every phrase
with nuance, love and feeling. Her performance served
as a reminder of why we care about music. In her hands,
song became a vessel for genuine human emotion, which
addressed a need no less than rhythm and tempo provided
for the body. I say put her -- along with Sahra Halgan
-- on the main stage next year.
Her
concert was emblematic of the importance of this festival
to the diasporic musician. Most of the performing musicians
and dancers and artists have been forced to leave their
homelands under incredibly trying circumstances, yet they
remain deeply tethered to their cultural roots. Through
shared performance, they reach back in order to recapture
and preserve memories of the homeland with music that
provides the continuity between the faraway past and the
vital present. For the much larger diasporic communities
in attendance, (Greater Montreal hosts 200,000 of African
origin), Les Nuits provides a road map to better help
them to better understand their own individual journeys.
* * * * * * *
Stating
the obvious, Les Nuits is much more than a musical event;
it is a vital, cultural happening. The brilliant array
of African colours is on full display, celebrated alongside
the aromas of traditional food, a bustling marketplace,
and -- thanks to the additional outdoor seating -- plenty
of cozy niches where strangers meet and become friends.
It is a very special unifying experience. It is where
people from vastly different backgrounds and diverging
political and religious views can finally set aside their
differences. They gather to experience, both in body and
soul, the universal joy of music, which remains our most
treasured and privileged form of expression.
No
surprise, that four decades later, the festival remains
a powerhouse and role model for lesser festivals looking
to stretch their wings. This year’s edition was
a massive affair, boasting over 700 artists from 30 different
countries, and it featured the very catchy (well-composed)
commemorative anthem entitled: United
by the Nights.
And
while the calendar digits must change every year, the
festival's modus operandi remains same: it honours
the past while actively carving out a space for the future.
Next
year's 41st can't come soon enough.
©
PHOTOS BY JERRY PRINDLE
