Review

Mont-real marks the convergence of three trajectories that cohered into a moment of resonance so sympathetic, they had to be cut into opposite sides of the same 10” vinyl record.

You could say that there’s an echo in the paths of hardanger fiddler Mike Gangloff and 12-string guitarist Liam Grant. Born a generation apart, they both bring rock and roll upbringings to particular aspects of American folk music. Devoted Dusted readers probably already know Gangloff from his disparate activities since the 1990s with Pelt, Black Twig Pickers, Eight Point Star, and some recent solo and collaborative activities. He’s on the short list of people who have made equal sense playing a West Virginia farmers market and sharing a stage with Sonic Youth. Still in his 20s, Grant has a couple LPs of fingerstyle soli out under his own name and has been touring Europe and the eastern half of the USA of late like miles don’t matter.

Sam Shalabi arrives from a different angle. He was born in Tripoli, grew up in Canada, and presently splits his time between Montreal and Cairo. Starting from a foundation of jazz, punk rock, and his dad’s Egyptian record collection, he’s played guitar and oud with the Shalabi Effect, Land of Kush, Dwarfs of East Agouza, and countless spontaneous encounters. In every project, he’s more interested in where things are going than where they’ve been.

Given the way underground scenes end up sharing spaces in even the biggest cities, it’s not particularly remarkable that the Gangloff/Grant duo and Shalabi shared a bill at Casa Del Popolo on March 4, 2024. In Montreal, that’s the place to play. What is remarkable is how well matched the two performances are. Shalabi’s solo oud piece, “Victorian Heat,” lasts fifteen minutes; Grant and Gangloff’s “Salmon Tails Up The River” lasts fourteen. Both employ traditional instruments used in not-so-traditional ways. And each obtains augmented otherworldliness from the haze of an audio verité recording. “Victorian Heat” is the more circuitous performance, moving through a series of feints and pauses that top off the tension. The duo’s interpretation of a piece from Grant’s recent solo LP, on the other hand, uses Gangloff’s Norwegian folk fiddle to plow keening, raga-like phrases through the gritty blur of the composer’s strumming. Taken in sequence, they’re a spiraling half-hour-long dive into inner space.