Latest news with #Bouvier
Hamilton Spectator
16-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Hamilton Spectator
Simple Plan didn't want to wait until they were ‘really old' to make a documentary
TORONTO - The problem with so many rock documentaries is they too often come out as the artist winds down their career — at least that's how pop-punk act Simple Plan see it. With their new career-spanning feature-length doc, which premiered this month on Prime Video, the Montreal pop-punk act says they didn't want to follow the pack and wait until the sunset of their lives to share the ups and downs. 'Sometimes bands ... wait until super late, until they're really old,' 45-year-old drummer Chuck Comeau explained in a recent video interview. 'Why not kick off a whole new chapter, look back on what we've accomplished, and use this to start the next part of the story?' Luckily, Simple Plan has plenty of fresh material to talk about. The band has recently been swept up by a resurgence in popularity for their early 2000s hits, thanks in part to TikTok clips that have introduced their pop-punk anthems 'I'm Just a Kid' and 'Perfect' to a new generation. The unexpected popularity has attracted bigger crowds than ever to their shows, just as the group passes their 25th anniversary. 'Simple Plan: The Kids in the Crowd,' from music video director Didier Charette of Hawkesbury, Ont., a town on the border of Ontario and Quebec, skirts much of the ugliness and complications of mainstream fame to focus on the band's rise and enduring appeal. Members recall the odds they overcame as French-Canadian suburbanites seeking stardom in the English music market without much of a blueprint to work from. 'There was nobody coming from Montreal, speaking French, that had done it,' Comeau said. 'The only reference point, I guess, was Celine Dion.' Charette's documentary feature debut relies heavily on archival footage in recounting the earliest days of Simple Plan's precursor band, Reset. They formed in the mid-1990s as a group of high schoolers that included Comeau and Simple Plan lead vocalist Pierre Bouvier. While that band found some success, Comeau and Bouvier left amid personal squabbles. The two made amends and joined forces with local musicians Jeff Stinco and Sébastien Lefebvre to form Simple Plan in 1999. They pursued a major label record deal, eventually landed one, and then jumped the typical hurdles of the music industry. Some critics derided the band as too soft for modern rock, often comparing them to their brattier Canadian counterparts Sum 41. One music magazine stung them with the most backhanded of praise, labelling them 'good guys, bad band.' Meanwhile, some audiences openly displayed their disdain, with festival concertgoers actually whipping water bottles at the band during their live sets. To Simple Plan, these experiences were obstacles to overcome. 'The process of going through this old footage ... was really a nice way to ... give ourselves a pat on the back and say, 'Hey, we're doing pretty good,'' Bouvier said. 'We don't do that enough,' Comeau agreed. Bouvier concedes those early negative incidents might've left the band with emotional battle scars and a drive to prove their worth. 'We had a chip on our shoulder,' he said. 'And a way for us to overcome those haters, so to speak, (was to say) we're going to give the best show ever and ... there's no way you're going to walk away saying that that wasn't a great show.' Avril Lavigne, Mark McGrath of Sugar Ray and Mark Hoppus of Blink-182 are among the band's contemporaries who come to their defence in new interviews. Other significant moments in Simple Plan's history are downplayed by the film, in particular, the departure of the longtime bassist David Desrosiers following allegations of sexual misconduct involving one of the band's fans. In 2020, Desrosiers left the band following accusations from an anonymous person on social media that alleged he made inappropriate 'jokes' with her when she was a minor and that they had consensual sex after she came of age. She also alleged he invited others for group sex without asking her, and threatened and demeaned her. At the time, Desrosiers acknowledged that 'some of the interactions I have had with women have caused them harm' and he pledged to seek professional help. The documentary spends little time on the allegations. While Desrosiers appears in archival footage, he is not interviewed in present day. Even the current band members only discuss the incident in the vaguest of ways, offering very little insight into how suddenly losing one of their members affected them as a unit. Comeau described Desrosiers' exit as 'one of the most challenging moments in our career.' 'It comes with a lot of pain,' he said. 'He was very important to the band. He had a huge contribution musically and personally … and we wanted to make sure the movie would reflect that.' While the band hasn't 'had tons of interactions' with Desrosiers since he left, Comeau said they consulted him during production and showed him a cut of the documentary. 'We felt like we couldn't avoid David because he was a big part of the story,' he added. 'He wasn't interviewed, but we really wanted his contribution to be shown.' Comeau said Simple Plan wanted to make clear in the documentary that their priority was 'to regain the trust of our fans and make sure that we could move forward as a band.' 'Now it's the four of us, and it's been five years,' he added. 'I think we feel like there's another 25 years in us.' This report by The Canadian Press was first published July 16, 2025.
Winnipeg Free Press
16-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Winnipeg Free Press
Simple Plan didn't want to wait until they were ‘really old' to make a documentary
TORONTO – The problem with so many rock documentaries is they too often come out as the artist winds down their career — at least that's how pop-punk act Simple Plan see it. With their new career-spanning feature-length doc, which premiered this month on Prime Video, the Montreal pop-punk act says they didn't want to follow the pack and wait until the sunset of their lives to share the ups and downs. 'Sometimes bands … wait until super late, until they're really old,' 45-year-old drummer Chuck Comeau explained in a recent video interview. 'Why not kick off a whole new chapter, look back on what we've accomplished, and use this to start the next part of the story?' Luckily, Simple Plan has plenty of fresh material to talk about. The band has recently been swept up by a resurgence in popularity for their early 2000s hits, thanks in part to TikTok clips that have introduced their pop-punk anthems 'I'm Just a Kid' and 'Perfect' to a new generation. The unexpected popularity has attracted bigger crowds than ever to their shows, just as the group passes their 25th anniversary. 'Simple Plan: The Kids in the Crowd,' from music video director Didier Charette of Hawkesbury, Ont., a town on the border of Ontario and Quebec, skirts much of the ugliness and complications of mainstream fame to focus on the band's rise and enduring appeal. Members recall the odds they overcame as French-Canadian suburbanites seeking stardom in the English music market without much of a blueprint to work from. 'There was nobody coming from Montreal, speaking French, that had done it,' Comeau said. 'The only reference point, I guess, was Celine Dion.' Charette's documentary feature debut relies heavily on archival footage in recounting the earliest days of Simple Plan's precursor band, Reset. They formed in the mid-1990s as a group of high schoolers that included Comeau and Simple Plan lead vocalist Pierre Bouvier. While that band found some success, Comeau and Bouvier left amid personal squabbles. The two made amends and joined forces with local musicians Jeff Stinco and Sébastien Lefebvre to form Simple Plan in 1999. They pursued a major label record deal, eventually landed one, and then jumped the typical hurdles of the music industry. Some critics derided the band as too soft for modern rock, often comparing them to their brattier Canadian counterparts Sum 41. One music magazine stung them with the most backhanded of praise, labelling them 'good guys, bad band.' Meanwhile, some audiences openly displayed their disdain, with festival concertgoers actually whipping water bottles at the band during their live sets. To Simple Plan, these experiences were obstacles to overcome. 'The process of going through this old footage … was really a nice way to … give ourselves a pat on the back and say, 'Hey, we're doing pretty good,'' Bouvier said. 'We don't do that enough,' Comeau agreed. Bouvier concedes those early negative incidents might've left the band with emotional battle scars and a drive to prove their worth. 'We had a chip on our shoulder,' he said. 'And a way for us to overcome those haters, so to speak, (was to say) we're going to give the best show ever and … there's no way you're going to walk away saying that that wasn't a great show.' Avril Lavigne, Mark McGrath of Sugar Ray and Mark Hoppus of Blink-182 are among the band's contemporaries who come to their defence in new interviews. Other significant moments in Simple Plan's history are downplayed by the film, in particular, the departure of the longtime bassist David Desrosiers following allegations of sexual misconduct involving one of the band's fans. In 2020, Desrosiers left the band following accusations from an anonymous person on social media that alleged he made inappropriate 'jokes' with her when she was a minor and that they had consensual sex after she came of age. She also alleged he invited others for group sex without asking her, and threatened and demeaned her. At the time, Desrosiers acknowledged that 'some of the interactions I have had with women have caused them harm' and he pledged to seek professional help. The documentary spends little time on the allegations. While Desrosiers appears in archival footage, he is not interviewed in present day. Even the current band members only discuss the incident in the vaguest of ways, offering very little insight into how suddenly losing one of their members affected them as a unit. Comeau described Desrosiers' exit as 'one of the most challenging moments in our career.' 'It comes with a lot of pain,' he said. 'He was very important to the band. He had a huge contribution musically and personally … and we wanted to make sure the movie would reflect that.' While the band hasn't 'had tons of interactions' with Desrosiers since he left, Comeau said they consulted him during production and showed him a cut of the documentary. Weekly A weekly look at what's happening in Winnipeg's arts and entertainment scene. 'We felt like we couldn't avoid David because he was a big part of the story,' he added. 'He wasn't interviewed, but we really wanted his contribution to be shown.' Comeau said Simple Plan wanted to make clear in the documentary that their priority was 'to regain the trust of our fans and make sure that we could move forward as a band.' 'Now it's the four of us, and it's been five years,' he added. 'I think we feel like there's another 25 years in us.' This report by The Canadian Press was first published July 16, 2025.
Forbes
03-06-2025
- Business
- Forbes
How Famous Wineries Are Becoming The New Status Symbol At 35,000 Feet
Legacy estates like Heitz and Stony Hill bring terroir and heritage to United's premium cabin. Heitz Cellar In business class, prestige is increasingly measured by what's poured into the glass. As global airlines compete for high-paying passengers, wine is emerging as a new marker of status—less about volume and more about origin, style and association with elite producers. This winter and spring has seen a number of global airlines announce partnerships with award-winning wineries. United Airlines, most recently, announced it would start serving selections from a boutique Napa Valley portfolio in its Polaris business class as part of a multi-year partnership with fine wine importer Demeine Estates. The agreement signals a broader shift among global carriers: wine lists are no longer just about brand recognition. Provenance, winemaking style and rarity now carry the weight of amenity value. Airlines are repositioning in-flight wine as an essential part of the passenger experience rather than an afterthought. The competition is no longer limited to extra inches of legroom or branded pajamas. It's moving toward exclusivity and agricultural identity. 'Ordering wine on a flight can be a roll of the dice,' says Philana Bouvier, president of Demeine Estates, via Zoom. 'However, being served a premium option transforms this gamble into a rare treat, akin to receiving another upgrade.' Airlines are refining their wine programs to meet the preferences of premium travelers with increasingly specific expectations. In 2024, United Airlines served more than 20 million glasses of wine system-wide—1.5 times more than beer or spirits. Within domestic economy alone, United served over 3.2 million glasses, reflecting broad-based demand. But wine at altitude presents technical and perceptual challenges. Pressurized cabins dull aroma and flatten acidity, making delicate or unbalanced wines fall apart in the glass. For wineries accustomed to tight quality control, the conditions are difficult to navigate. But for certain producers, those constraints offer an opportunity to stand out. 'Tasting wine in a pressurized cabin can exaggerate flaws in less structured wines,' Bouvier explains. 'However, wines that have balanced acidity and moderate tannins hold up in the skies.' The new Polaris wine program reflects broader patterns in the airline industry. United is not alone. British Airways recently expanded its English sparkling wine service to include prestige cuvées from Nyetimber and Gusbourne. Delta Air Lines now offers Champagne Taittinger in its business class cabin Delta One. Emirates distinguished itself as the only airline to serve LVMH's prestige champagnes: Moët & Chandon, Veuve Clicquot and Dom Pérignon. These developments point to a deeper interest in conveying value through curation and scarcity. Aaron McMillan, United's managing director of hospitality programs, describes the airline's approach as both selective and flexible. 'This partnership allows us to feature a menu rotation each year through 2028, while still maintaining variety with cycles of other luxury labels throughout the year,' McMillan says. These choices are more than aesthetic. They are designed to serve a clientele increasingly attuned to detail. As in-flight wine becomes a more calculated decision, airline partnerships are beginning to resemble restaurant wine lists: curated, limited and narrative-driven. Selections are now as much about identity as they are about quality. 'The customers in Polaris business class are discerning and expect premium beverage service,' Bouvier says. 'Elite travelers are less concerned about how a wine will taste at altitude and focus on the benefits they will receive for upgrading on a long-haul flight.' The collaboration is United's first long-term wine deal and follows a larger overhaul of its food and beverage offerings that began in late 2023. Unlike traditional airline wine lists, which cycle quickly and rely on bulk-friendly suppliers, this partnership required advanced planning and precise volume forecasting. 'Scaling boutique, limited-production wines across a global fleet is certainly a challenge, but it's one we embrace,' McMillan says. 'The volume required for even a single menu cycle can represent an entire vintage for some wineries.' Part of the appeal for the wineries involved is audience reach. Though the producers are well known within the industry, they are far from mass-market brands. Their limited visibility outside of niche retail or fine dining gives this partnership a dual benefit: reinforcing exclusivity while gaining exposure to a global customer base. 'This will drive brand awareness and traffic to the brand in restaurants, retailers and back home in our estate properties when they return from their travels,' Bouvier says. Not every winemaker would agree to such terms. High-volume airline deals have historically been associated with commodity wines, not estates with cult status. But perceptions may be shifting, especially when service is limited to business and first-class passengers. 'We believe there are only positives in partnering with United's long-haul Polaris service,' Bouvier says. 'The average ticket price to fly this service can be ten to twenty times the cost of a coach ticket. We are reaching the right demographic that is also enjoying other luxury products in business class.'
