
One voice, two solitudes: Calls for cultural crossover one year after Karl Tremblay's death
It's been one year since Karl Tremblay, the lead singer of Les Cowboys Fringants, died of prostate cancer at the age of 47.
It's been one year since Karl Tremblay, the lead singer of Les Cowboys Fringants, died of prostate cancer at the age of 47.
There was an outpouring of grief across Quebec, and 15,000 people attended Tremblay's national funeral at the Bell Centre.
Yet despite Les Cowboys Fringants' international success, there were many in the province and across the country who never knew their music – and didn't know who Tremblay was until he died.
CTV News Montreal spoke to fans and music lovers who've been reflecting on the reality of the two solitudes.
Watch the video above to see the full report.
Karl Tremblay
Les Cowboys Fringants lead singer Karl Tremblay performs at the Quebec Summer Festival, in Quebec City on Monday, July 17, 2023. THE CANADIAN PRESS/Jacques Boissinot
Louis-Philippe Guy
Louis-Philippe Guy, born and raised in Chicoutimi, has been a fan of Les Cowboys Fringants for more than two decades.
He has vivid memories of seeing them live for the first time in 2001, with a small crowd, following the release of the band's third album, Motel Capri.
'I saw my first Cowboys Fringants show in Saint-Felicien, in Lac-Saint-Jean. It was a nice show, but we were like 100, maybe 80 people in the room,' he recalled.
Guy, the overnight radio host of La nuit en direct at 98.5 Montréal, was devastated when Tremblay died.
'I cried on air. I never cry on air,' he said.
Ce matin, une preuve des 2 solitudes. Le décès de Karl Tremblay, icone culturelle des 25 dernières années au Québec, est à la Une de tous les journaux francophones distribué au Québec. Je viens de parcourir The Montreal Gazette, le Globe and Mail et le National Post, et il n'y a… — Louis-Philippe Guy 🎙️🌙 (@LPGeek) November 16, 2023
The day after Tremblay's death, Guy posted on X, pointing to the front-page coverage of Tremblay's death in every French paper in Quebec, but not in the country's national newspapers or in Montreal's only English daily.
He saw it as 'proof of the two solitudes.'
Karl Tremblay
Les Cowboys Fringants lead singer Karl Tremblay pauses during a song in their performance at the Quebec Summer Festival, in Quebec City, Monday, July 17, 2023. THE CANADIAN PRESS/Jacques Boissinot
Brendan Kelly
While the Montreal Gazette didn't feature front-page coverage the day after Tremblay's death, columnist Brendan Kelly wrote an in-depth piece about the band published in the weekend edition of the paper, one that was widely read and shared.
'We live in a world of clicks, and so a lot of people read that article and clicked on it,' said Kelly. 'The death of Karl Tremblay was crazy. The reaction was super intense, right across the board – from François Legault, to people crying in the streets.'
Kelly compared the Quebec reaction to Karl Tremblay's death to the reaction in the rest of Canada when Gord Downie died.
The lead singer for the Tragically Hip died of brain cancer in 2017 at the age of 53.
'French people here did not really know the Tragically Hip,' said Kelly. 'I remember when Gord Downie was doing that last tour when we knew he was going to die and all of the francophone media began doing stories. 'What is this thing, The Tragically Hip?' Well, they had been around 25 years, so it works both ways and I think it's unfortunate in both cases.'
Kelly was born in Glasgow, Scotland, and raised in Montreal.
Anglophones living amongst the francophone majority in Quebec exist in a complicated reality, he said.
'It's weird in a way, it's normal in a way – because they're English, they're going to consume English culture. But it's also weird because you live in a French place. You think you'd be more curious.'
Kelly believes the province's nationalist politics may influence what some anglophones choose to consume.
'If you want to tell English people, 'Hey! There's these great bands and movies and TV shows,' and at the same time you're harassing the community with Bill 96 and with the stuff about Concordia and McGill, it doesn't help,' he said. 'It doesn't make English people all warm and fuzzy about francophone culture.'
Habs honour Karl Tremblay
The Montreal Canadiens pay tribute to Karl Tremblay, the lead singer of the Quebec music group The Cowboy Fringants, who died Wednesday at the age of 47, prior to their NHL hockey game against the Vegas Golden Knights in Montreal on Thursday, Nov. 16, 2023. THE CANADIAN PRESS/Christinne Muschi
Taylor Vallée
Taylor Vallée grew up in Stoney Creek, a small suburb of Hamilton, Ontario.
She is among Les Cowboys Fringants' legions of loyal followers, but she hasn't been following the albums since their start in the late 90s.
In fact, she'd never heard of the band – and barely spoke French – until she moved to Quebec in 2015.
Listening to Les Cowboys Fringants while learning the language was a revelation for Vallée.
She found herself falling in love with the music and asking herself questions.
'Why haven't I discovered this amazing band? The music is funny, and heartwarming, and melancholic, and it was exactly aligned with the kind of music I would like,' said Vallée. 'But I had not ever discovered them until moving here and doing a dive into Quebec culture.'
After Tremblay died, Vallée decided to write an opinion piece, sharing her own story about getting to know Les Cowboys Fringants, expressing the sadness she felt after Tremblay's death, and reflecting on why the band wasn't more widely known across Canada – despite their immense popularity in Quebec and elsewhere in the world.
'We've got our artists and culture, and they've got theirs, and I wish there was more travel between those two solitudes because I think there's a lot to share,' said Vallée.
Karl Tremblay and Marie-Annick Lepine
Les Cowboys Fringants lead singer Karl Tremblay, right, sings as his wife Marie-Annick Lepine plays the violin during their performance at the Quebec Summer Festival, in Quebec City, Monday, July 17, 2023. (THE CANADIAN PRESS/Jacques Boissinot)
Pierre Landry
CHOM music director Pierre Landry attributes the popularity of Les Cowboys Fringants to their ability to connect with ordinary people and their everyday experiences.
'Obviously there are political songs, there are songs about identity, but beyond those songs, it was about daily life. It was about stuff that was universally relatable, but obviously very Québécois,' he said.
Landry also describes the band's music as part of a Quebec tradition.
'When you think of the 1970s, like Paul Piché or you think of Harmonium or Beau Dommage, or you think of the 80s with people like Richard Séguin, Michel Rivard, the 90s with Jean Leloup, you think of Les Colocs – well, Les Cowboys Fringants were kind of descendants of all of those. There's kind of a direct lineage,' he said.
Landry, an Acadian born in Campbellton, New Brunswick, said that while he does see a cultural divide between Quebec and the rest of Canada, he believes the reality within Quebec itself is more nuanced than media coverage suggests.
'There are francophones watching English TV. There are anglophones watching French TV and vice versa,' he said. 'Not everyone, and I get that. But at the same time, the more you know and the more you expose culture to all people, the better culture is. And I think there's something to learn on both sides.'
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


CTV News
39 minutes ago
- CTV News
Improv show about relationship keeps performers on their toes as they tour the Maritimes
Alex Rioux is keeping a secret from Jean-Michel Cliche and neither of them know what it is. They have been dancing around the subject for a while onstage, discussing the challenges of their domestic lives. Finally, Rioux tells Cliche the truth: They steal cheese from Loblaws. The secret doesn't come from Rioux; it comes from the audience. 'Before the show, our stage manager asks the crowd what the secret is in the form of an 'I am' question,' Cliche said. 'There's a projection that comes up with the secret. Everything after is completely improvised.' Cliche and Rioux are the stars of TILT, a show that explores a relationship between two characters with the novel twist being that every performance features a new secret pulled from the audience. 'The show begins as a scripted piece,' Cliche said. 'The first half of the show is a journey through their relationship. Clearly something is not being communicated between the two of them. It's very grounded. At a certain point Alex's character musters up the courage to share the secret.' Cliche is the associate artistic director of Solo Chicken Productions, a New Brunswick-based theatre company that is taking TILT on tour through the Maritimes this summer. 'The name TILT appeared before the story did,' he said. 'I was reading about Coen Brothers' movies and how they have this concept called the tilt. For me that was the crux of the show. We wanted a moment where everything got turned on its head. 'We thought it captured the energy of the show. We want audiences to feel that tilt with us.' TILT show TILT is going on tour in the Maritimes this summer. (Source: Andrew Finlay) Cliche discovered improvisation in high school when, in his words, his teacher dragged him to a class one day. 'I hadn't found my thing yet and it really connected with me,' he said. 'It's a really collaborative environment. You have to be so in tune with each other.' Cliche studied theatre in university and coached an improv team at his old high school, continuing to develop his craft. 'There's a lot more training and skill that goes into it than people can imagine,' he said. 'I describe it as more like a sport. You have to run your drills. When you get to a game, you don't know how those skills will come into play, but you always fall back on them. You're thinking about your ability to connect to your fellow performers.' Through his work, Cliche met and started to work with Rioux through Hot Garbage Players, building a natural rapport through countless performances. Cliche said TILT came about in the wake of Rioux's show 'Fruit Machine,' which explored the history of the LGBTQ+ purge from Canadian military, RCMP and civil service in the 1960s. 'Alex created this beautiful, really complex piece about the LGBT purge,' Cliche said. 'We were touring that play and once we were finished that tour, we were kind of thinking what's next? Let's jam something out. 'It was an artistic challenge to go, 'We want to make something smaller scale but just as effective and polished as previous works.' I always had an idea of a show that started scripted and became improv. It was an artistic challenge for ourselves that sounded exciting.' Jean-Michel Cliche Jean-Michel Cliche is pictured. (Source: Andrew Finlay) Cliche said audiences have cooked up some truly odd secrets for the second half of the show. 'You get thrown this ridiculous curve balls,' he said. 'Really strange, wild twists like, 'I'm doing secret deals behind the Payless Shoes depot.' 'It's been cool to play the same characters in these different iterations but finding heart is at the core of all of it. We both gravitate towards the heart of these characters. They feel like real people to us.' TILT will kick off its summer tour at Memorial Hall in Fredericton on July 24 and 25. Other shows include: DANSpace at Halifax Fringe Festival from Aug. 27 to Sept. 7 Marshlight Theatre in Sackville, N.B., on Sept. 19 and 20 BMO Theatre in Saint John on Sept. 24 For more New Brunswick news, visit our dedicated provincial page.


CBC
3 hours ago
- CBC
Indigenous-led projects are landing hits and winning awards. How are they making inroads?
Cody Lightning is far from alone. First of all, the Edmonton-based creator is surrounded by fellow community members on the set of Smudge the Blades, his upcoming film about hockey, growing up and Indigenous identity. But he's also part of a wave of new Indigenous talent — a raft of creators crafting a host of projects that, Lightning said, is unlike anything he's seen in his 30 years in the industry. "Throughout my adolescent years and teenage years, it was roles that I auditioned for, that were presented to me. And I adapted to that — to someone else's story," he said. "There was, like, one project per year that everyone knew about — everyone was trying to be on those projects. And now we're making our own." Alongside his upcoming film, there are projects running the gamut — from Reservation Dogs, the series about four Indigenous teenagers in Oklahoma that aired for three seasons on FX, to Rutherford Falls, the Michael Greyeyes-starring comedy written by Indigenous comedian Jana Schmieding. And then there are this year's Canadian Screen Awards-nominated titles North of North, Don't Even and Bones of Crows. Those projects are paired with Indigenous talent stepping in front of the camera, from Season 4 of True Detective, to Indigenous stars in series Dark Winds, American Primeval and Alaska Daily. Perhaps most notable is Lily Gladstone, who became the first Indigenous woman to be nominated for a best actress Academy Award — and the first to win a Golden Globe — for her turn in Martin Scorsese's Killers of the Flower Moon. As to why we're seeing the swell now, Indigenous filmmaker and actor Jennifer Podemski said there are multiple reasons. The first could be historically laid groundwork. As Podemski has spoken about in the past, Indigenous-led productions often included mentorship programs, designed to train up-and-coming Indigenous creators to be ready to launch their own careers. That, she said, has paired with a shifted lens from decision-makers. Specifically, after the 2020 murder of George Floyd by police in Minneapolis, studios changed how they looked for talent. WATCH | Filmmaker and actor Jennifer Podemski on Indigenous resilience: Filmmaker/Actor Jennifer Podemski on Indigenous resilience 7 months ago Duration 1:46 Filmmaker and veteran actor Jennifer Podemski sat down with Tom Power to discuss her new series, Little Bird, how the story resonates with her own family history and making a production company that tells Indigenous stories with authenticity. "When people are casting for movies, they're more inclined to question ... 'Am I on the right side of history here, or am I perpetuating harmful narratives?'" Podemski said of the shift following Floyd's murder. "People became a little bit more aware of the steps that they were taking, and that's why we were seeing more Indigenous people on screen, maybe, where we wouldn't otherwise have seen them." Centralized source of funding As for the shift behind the camera and north of the border, Podemski credits that more to executive changes — specifically to the Indigenous Screen Office (ISO), which was created in 2017-18. While it began as an advocacy group, in 2021, the ISO began receiving federal funding earmarked for distribution to any Indigenous-led production headed to the screen. Kristy Assu, its director of funding programs, said that outreach has been furthered now that the ISO receives permanent government funding — including about $65 million to be distributed over the next five years. And starting this year, the ISO will administer the Canadian Media Fund's Indigenous Program, which allocates roughly $10 million annually to Indigenous-led productions. That sets up the ISO as a centralized source of funding for Indigenous creators in Canada, which has never happened before, Assu said. As a filmmaker herself, she said the change helps to break down systemic obstacles in the industry: While the Canadian Media Fund's Indigenous Program existed previously, there was "very little to access" — even more so for emerging, unestablished filmmakers, she said. "I think that's why we're seeing this huge surge in [Indigenous] filmmakers," Assu said. "Because there's access to funding now, there's support. People can make a living on being a creative in this industry." As well, with Indigenous people allocating the funding themselves, rather than through an intermediary organization, a more central issue emerges: narrative sovereignty. The term refers to a group able to choose how it's represented — and in a larger sense determine how it's perceived by society at large. That has been an especially entrenched issue in this country; the very concept and word "documentary" was first coined by National Film Board of Canada founder John Grierson in his review of American filmmaker Robert Flaherty's 1926 movie Moana. Both that film and his earlier Inuit-focused Nanook of the North — widely considered to be the first commercially successful documentary — used Indigenous people as their subjects. Particularly in Nanook, Flaherty's work has come under increasing scrutiny for staged scenes and general inaccuracies, with its widespread success continuing to reinforce romanticized and stereotypical aspects of a people who were unable to establish their own identity through film. 'Cost of carelessness' "Because of filmmakers like Flaherty, we've seen the damage wrought by policies built on visual misrepresentation, salvage ethnography, and the lines of ownership that become purposefully blurred by others extracting our own images," Indigenous filmmaker Adam Piron wrote for the International Documentary Association about Nanook. "For Indigenous artists, there's an added weight to engaging with the moving image because we know the cost of carelessness." An entrenched and inaccurate depiction of Indigenous people and their stories, Lightning said, led to decades of period pieces he described as "leathers and feathers" — productions that utilized pop culture ideas of various Indigenous groups, while barring those people from input into how their stories should actually be told. At the same time, there has been consistent pushback, such as Toronto-born Indigenous actor D'Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai, who starred in Reservation Dogs, attending the 2024 Emmy Awards with a red handprint on his face. The makeup was intended to bring attention to missing and murdered Indigenous women, and, according to the organization Native Hope, "the silence of the media and law enforcement in the midst of this crisis." Lightning said that rebellious streak has only increased in recent years. "I want our younger generations in this industry to push boundaries, make people feel a little uncomfortable at times," he said. "That's good. I'm looking forward to that. Those are the filmmakers I wanna see." And while territorial sovereignty — the ability to decide on laws within proscribed borders — is a topic often touched on for Indigenous people in Canada, Podemski said the right and ability to control how, and which, stories are told about them is also of huge importance. As an example, she told the story of how just the day before, a passport agent made an offhand complaint about her getting "stuff for free" after seeing her Indigenous status card — a discriminatory response that a 2022 study by the Union of British Columbia Indian Chiefs found 99 per cent of Indigenous respondents had experienced. The team behind North of North on making TV magic in the Canadian Arctic 5 months ago Duration 2:49 Actor Anna Lambe and the co-creators of the new CBC co-production North of North talk to the CBC's Eli Glasner about how the Iqaluit community came together to bring the heartwarming comedy to life. Podemski said she spent the next 20 minutes speaking about that stereotype to the agent, who said apologetically that she simply hadn't heard the historical context before. "Afterwards I thought, 'You know what? This is why I do what I do,'" Podemski said. "Because if we take up space on the screen, and if we help people to understand a little bit more about who we are in our own communities and in our own experiences, then maybe they won't write us off as easily as they do."


CBC
3 hours ago
- CBC
Pedestrian Sunday is back in Kensington this weekend, but future of festival remains unclear
Kensington Market's popular Pedestrian Sunday festival is back this month, but its future for the rest of the season remains unclear as organizers look for solutions on safety concerns and the problem of illegal vendors. The festival has been running for more than two decades on the last Sunday of each month from May to October, when much of the market is closed to vehicles while pedestrians, vendors, and street artists fill the streets. It was halted last-minute in May after concerns over the influx of outside vendors and "unregulated food sales and unauthorized substances," the Kensington Market Business Improvement Area (KMBIA) said when announcing the cancellation. KMBIA chair Mike Shepherd says he feels comfortable holding the June 29 event because he believes outside vendors will be spread out across the city due to Pride Festival events and won't necessarily converge on Kensington. And as for July onward, "We'll see how it goes," he said. Kensington considers hiring outside help For now, the KMBIA is exploring options to help the event run more smoothly in the future. Among them is finding new organizers to run it for them. Shepherd says KMBIA is currently in talks with the team behind Do West Fest, adding it has had "really good success at dealing with these same problems." "[The] biggest thing…is what their cost is going to be to us," he said, referring to Uma Nota Culture, the not-for-profit that produced the festival for the Little Portugal Toronto BIA. The organization confirmed to CBC Toronto they had a conversation about potentially producing the event and are thrilled about the opportunity. The KMBIA increased its events and festival budget by 18 per cent this year, city records show. Each Pedestrian Sunday costs about $10,000 and May's unused budget will go into reserves, Shepherd says. The KMBIA also released a community survey on Monday asking residents and businesses for their thoughts on possible solutions such as having police on the streets, more security, or changing the festival's frequency. The results are still trickling in — and while some businesses told CBC Toronto the festival is a financial lifeline, others welcomed last month's pause. Jessica Silva of CrazyLoko Vintage says she loses roughly half her customers to illegal vendors who set up shop in front of her business selling other vintage clothes during the festival. "They're taking away from our business [while] we're here the entire year trying to make ends meet," she said. 'Only so many officers trying to do too big a job' Though there will be four extra security guards at Sunday's event, Shepherd says it's been a challenge to bring in more bylaw officers to crack down on illegal vendors. He says attempts to hire the officers through the city have been unsuccessful — something the city couldn't comment on without more specifics from the KMBIA. Illegal vendors selling things like unregulated food or art can be fined by bylaw officers, according to the city's communications coordinator, Shane Gerard. But if they sell drugs, he says the issue becomes a police matter. The most common violation related to sidewalk vendors is vending without a permit, which carries a $615 fine, Gerard says. This year, Shepherd hopes June's Pedestrian Sunday will give him the chance to have conversations with the illegal vendors and deal with them "in a nice way," before escalating things further. WATCH | Why was Pedestrian Sunday paused in the first place?: Toronto's Kensington market pauses 'Pedestrian Sundays' amid vendor battle 1 month ago Duration 2:28 'Pedestrian Sundays,' a popular tradition at Toronto's Kensington Market, has been put on pause for the first time in twenty years. As CBC's Britnei Bilhete reports, organizers say there's been growing concerns about the event. Local councillor Dianne Saxe says she's repeatedly asked the mayor's office for help with drug use and sales in the area and helped connect Shepherd with city staff to request more bylaw officers. "There's only so many officers trying to do too big a job," Saxe said. CBC Toronto has reached out to the mayor's office but did not hear back before deadline. The entire ward of University-Rosedale currently has two bylaw officers assigned.