Underground Receipts

May 4

A Meditation on Montreal and Mile End Kicks

In 2011 I read Patti Smith’s Just Kids, and what stood out to me was the idea of identifying as an artist. The idea of saying, “I am an Artist”. I was living in Toronto, working as a “professional actor”. I wasn’t just an actor, though, I was a writer, a singer, a dancer, I enjoyed painting and sculpting, making music, but out of necessity, I was an actor. Just an actor. That’s it. What kind of fucking life is that? I knew I was an artist. I wanted to create. I needed to create.

At the time, I’d never actually been to Montreal, but in Toronto around 2010-12 everyone talked about moving to Montreal. Constantly. Not just moving. Fucking off. Leaving behind the expensive apartments, the multiple shit jobs, the loneliness.

As you do, I went through a bad breakup. I was hurt, and I was lost. I wanted more. The words of Patti Smith were stuck in my head. I sold most of my physical objects, outside of art supplies, books, and clothes, and took a rideshare to Montreal. I crashed on a friend’s couch in Westmount. My first night, I took a very long walk, and I ended up in the Plateau. Having lived in Toronto’s Annex and Kensington Market, I liked The Main. I mean, I hadn’t seen the Mile End yet, and yes, I’d live there, too. In fact, I ended up there first. But I knew the Plateau would be the place for me, and it’s been my home for a long time now.

With the blessing of good connections, I got a job at Segal’s as a stock boy. This spot, where rumour would tell you Mac DeMarco himself once worked, was the job for Anglo artists seeking a cash paying gig to cover their cheap rent, with a little bit of extra for beer, whatever your art supplies, drugs, etc. I quickly moved into an apartment at Parc and Laurier, above Copie 2000, with four other roommates.

Andrew Jamieson (R) with roommates on Avenue du Parc (2012)

I didn’t know French, and I didn’t prioritize learning. I enjoyed working at Segal’s, where it was mostly unnecessary, so I stayed there for years. Until I found the only logical reason to leave: a fucking kitchen job, bro. The idea that work was impossible to find then, without speaking French, is as true as it is now. Especially for kids who just arrived from Ontario. There is a certain arrogance that Ontario, specifically Toronto, breeds, and it’s exposed in Quebec. What do you mean you don’t want to employ me?

Thankfully, at the time, I was also laundering money for a biker gang (as mentioned in Tara McGowan-Ross’ seminal memoir, Nothing Will Be Different). I used these funds to start an art cult. That’s another story, for another time. But it was all part of the same desperate motivation.

Fondly, I remember at the time feeling as though one thing mattered: making art. Actually, two things mattered. The first was making art, the second was being cool. Not just cool, but being the coolest. Being the most interesting fucking person in the room. Somehow, someway, you have to exploit yourself, and hope that people are into it. (Some of us eventually learned better. Some of us are Grimes.)

Over the next few years, I made some weird art. I drank lots, and did plenty of drugs. I fell in love, I had my heart broken, and I got a bunch of stupid tattoos. I forged some lasting bonds, made some enemies, and produced some memorable fucking events. We’ll get to that.

Mile End Kicks, which premiered at TIFF in 2025 and hit theatres in April 2026, is a film with a solid plot: in 2011, a young music critic from Toronto moves to Montreal for the summer while she attempts to write a book for the 33 1/3 series about Canadian Legend Alanis Morissette. This is a great script, and could have easily fallen into the wrong hands. This could have ended up shot through an American lens, but thankfully the Canadian film industry, specifically Matthew Miller at Zapruder Films, took the opportunity to shepherd the project. With that, we have on-location Montreal filming, capturing the vibrancy of not just the titular neighborhood, but numerous landmark locales. The creative team worked hard, filming in 2024, to capture the Montreal of 2011, carefully avoiding areas that have changed drastically.

When our narrator, Grace, arrives in Toronto, she’s lived a fairly typical Toronto lifestyle: boring. Fucking boring. Sure, she gets to review bands at venues like Sneaky Dee’s, writing for the film’s stand-in for NOW Magazine, but life in Toronto is empty. It’s expensive, too. Thankfully, our Grace lives with her parents. Though this has unfortunately prevented her from typical, vital life experience, making her the perfect canvas for her inevitable adventure.

With Mile End Kicks, Chandler Levack wrote a beautiful memoir. I’m almost disappointed this wasn’t a book first, but watching this film was inspiring, even cathartic.

And maybe annoying. Not the film itself, I’m speaking now about the leading men. Well, the boys. The two specific boys, in the same damn band, that our Grace gets herself involved with: Chevy and Archie. These were painfully accurate depictions of the two primary male archetypes in Montreal at the time. (Despite the fact that neither of them had a nose ring.) Grace, our Grace, gets involved with both boys. Chevy, obviously the lead singer, is a complete douchebag who desperately wants to be seen as a profound, tortured artist. His counterpart and bandmate, Archie, lead guitar, is quiet, pensive, troubled, and mostly inept. Chevy has the girl. Archie wants the girl (but he’s got herpes?), and the girl makes stupid choices. This is a painfully accurate Montreal love. The Mile End Boy trope is as much about posture as it is about identity. I mean, I know. I’ve fucked, and worse, dated, both of them. Multiple times.

The production was on point. We saw, and we heard, the right things: the American Apparel-inspired titles and credits, the streets and alleyways of the Mile End (albeit a little cleaner than I remember), the train tracks and the holes in the fences, Grimes doing coke off a toilet seat, the bars, the lofts, Torn Curtain (sort of), the parcs, St. Viateur Bagels, even Bar Le Ritz had a cameo (which, to be fair, was Il Motore at the time). And, of course, that shoe store. Maybe more than visual cues, the film best captured the sound of Montreal in 2011. Considering the film’s focus is the city’s music scene at the time, this is important, and executed to perfection. A combination of music by Cecile Believe and TOPS (who were also mentioned in dialogue) gave us exactly what that time and place sounded like.

We’ve all seen photos, films, read stories or watched documentaries about places like New York City’s East Village in the 1950’s-80’s. Even in the 90's. For general audiences, they’re a glimpse into how the others live. For young artists, those of us yearning to live that different life, that shit is inspiring. What was so special about Mile End Kicks for me is that I wasn’t just there. I WAS there. Do you know? I was an active member of that community. Not specifically the music community, but the artistic community in that neighborhood, in that city, at that time.

Andrew Jamieson (C) and Vialss (R) on Avenue du Parc (2012)

This film showed the audience a time and place, Montreal’s Mile End neighborhood at the beginning of a new decade, a place where I grew up, where I learned so much. When Grace and Archie wander those streets and alleyways in the movie, I don’t just feel like I was there. I was. Hell, some of my graffiti is still visible in those alleys. The idea that Chandler Levack was so inspired by something I was part of is really an honor.

I’ve always been drawn to artists who create more than just art, the ones who, intentionally or not, create space and lead the community. I have always worked very, very fucking hard to do that, and to leave my imprint. And I did. I do.

I’ll admit, I didn’t rush to the premier. I hadn’t seen a film in theatres since 2019, pre-pandemic. But there was no way I couldn’t. Especially after getting messages about a specific reference. A reference to me. More accurately, a reference to myself, Laura Bardsley, and a series we created called THISISNOTASAFESPACE. People, friends, strangers, reached out after seeing the film to tell me, “there is a reference to TINASS in Mile End Kicks,” or, “holy shit you’re in the movie”. Obviously this was exciting. So I went to Cinema du Parc on a Wednesday afternoon to finally see what everyone was talking about.

It had been a long time since I’d been to a movie theatre, and even longer since I’d been to Cinema du Parc. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed that place. I was shocked, in the best way, that the 6:30PM screening on a Wednesday was sold out. I scouted a few boomers, plenty of students, and some old friends uniting to take that proverbial walk down memory lane.

As I watched the theatre fill, I considered Justine Smith’s rushed re-review of Mile End Kicks on that other site. She concluded with, “If the era the film depicts doesn’t fully resonate with my own memories of that time, so be it — her love for Montreal is different from mine. Not better, not worse — just different. Maybe that’s the point.” I mean, obviously. My personal relationship with the city has changed dramatically over the years, as I’ve changed, as the city has changed. That’s how relationships work, they grow, they evolve. I’ve lived through so many eras in Montreal. I left. I’m back. Right now I’m living in the centre of the Plateau, exactly where I belong. In fact, I barely go to the Mile End these days, save for special occasions and events.

But I was there. I tagged those venues and alleys. I cut holes in those fences, and I’ve travelled those tracks a million times.

Obviously, I’m very proud of THISISNOTASAFESPACE, of what Laura and I created. In fact, while Laura is now living in Alberta, I resurrected the series with Tara McGowan-Ross late 2025 for two events, in response to the ongoing threat that ground level and underground venues are facing in Montreal. These events were titled DISAPPEARHERE and BACKINTHEHABIT, the first at a construction site on Saint Laurent, the other at the Mordechai Richler gazebo. (Will there be more? Yes.) The name Laura and I chose for the series, though, wasn’t just a rebellious, antagonistic choice. The name was a deliberate message. As per my website:

“Imagine a performance series where the location remains a secret until the very last minute—a text message directs you to a mountainside, an abandoned warehouse, or perhaps even the SPVM parking lot.

This was THISISNOTASAFESPACE, an experiment in public performance curated by Laura Bardsley and Andrew Jamieson, that deliberately blurred the lines between stage and audience, art and life. With no online presence and relying solely on word-of-mouth, the series defied expectations. The name itself was a bold statement, acknowledging the inherent unpredictability of these raw, unscripted gatherings. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, audiences organically created their own “safer spaces,” finding connection and shared experience. The series also sparked post-show discussions with performers, compiled into three zines, WUSS, HAQ, and OH, FUCK that delved deeper into the questions raised by this unique experiment.”

No doubt, sitting in that theatre with anticipation, I was fucking thrilled when early into the film, not long after Grace arrives in Montreal, she attends an event that the host introduces as THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A SAFE SPACE. People read poetry outside, in the setting sun, in a meadow behind an abandoned building.

Fuck.

It was amazing.

But… Fuck.

It became immediately apparent to me that this reference was not us. I mean, I’m a Metamodernist, I’m of the belief that something can be many things, simultaneously. There was, to me, a very clear duality to the reference. This was, in the most obvious way, a reference to Ashley Obscura (Opheim) and Guillaume Morissette, the founders of Metatron Press, Montreal’s top independent Anglo publishing company, and their own series, titled THIS IS HAPPENING WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT. The meadow, the host, the co-producer (whose name remained Guillaume), it was all there. Ashley and Guillaume’s work is definitive. You can’t discuss the contemporary Montreal literary landscape without acknowledging them, and if anyone disagrees, they’re fucking stupid. Ashley recently wrote a beautiful piece on her Substack regarding the reference, the film, and the time. Truly, I’m not surprised in the least that she had that sort of lasting impact on Chandler Levack’s experience, and even assisted in research and casting. Ashley and Guillaume deserve that.

But the name. THE NAME!

Okay.

I knew Ashley. I mean, I know Ashley. We know each other. Never well, but we’ve had a few good times. We’ve also collaborated.

I once read at THIS IS HAPPENING WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT, at the Metatron headquarters on de Gaspe. It was a beautiful event. I was an asshole, I’m sure, but I truly had an unforgettable time. Drunk, and very honored to be there. Laura Bardsley was on the lineup for a Metatron launch event, one so beautiful I speak of it to this day. Our experience, and their community work, was inspiring. So much so that, while working together at Segal’s, Laura and I made the decision to collaborate on our own series, something with a multidisciplinary focus, with theirs near the top of our mind. We chose to name the event THISISNOTASAFESPACE, as a declaration of our philosophy, and an homage to Ashley and Guillaume. Though the calendar might show THISISNOTASAFESPACE manifesting after the film’s 2011 setting, that chronological drift doesn’t negate the undeniable duality of the reference or the shared DNA of the scene.

We held our events everywhere we “weren’t supposed to”. The first TINASS was behind an abandoned warehouse in the Mile End, of course, and had Ashley Obscura on the lineup. For the second show we took over the LARP space on Mont Royal, with candle lanterns creating the stage. I can’t stress how fucking beautiful this event was. The area was filled with Montrealers and visitors, people who planned to come, arriving in groups, and strangers wandering up to see what was happening. Our third event took place in the most unsafe space we could find: the auxiliary parking lot of the police station on Ste. Catherines and Clark. I mean, now it’s a multi-million dollar outdoor venue, but once it was a parking lot filled with cop cars. We scouted the spot, and planned accordingly. That night we moved in and set up as soon as all the squad cars left for a Red Square protest.

TINASS I

TINASS II

TINASS III

THISISNOTASAFESPACE IV (I fucking love Roman Numerals), was held on Valentine’s Day, and Laura and I decided we’d take in on the road. “The road” being about five blocks along Ste. Catherines. We started in front of the Eaton Centre, at one of the entrances. Since it was a special situation, we borrowed a milk crate from Segal’s (like hell we were going to buy one from Jeff), and we were equipped with our usual battery powered amp, mic, and stand. After two or three performers, we’d move down the street to another location. Our crowd that night was a surprise. It’s Montreal. It’s February. It’s not that nice out. But people showed up. And they were cold. So we detoured, taking them into The Bay. We set up our milk crate, and Laura and I read poetry in the perfume section of the store. *

We published weird and interesting conversations with Ashley and Guillaume in our accompanying zines. They interviewed Laura and I for the Metatron website, where we discussed mutual inspiration.

Chandler Levack’s film was a loose memoir. She wrote about her experience, and that’s what’s at play here. As Ashley mentioned in her Substack piece, the reference was hers and Guillaume’s. That’s something they should be proud of, and I’m happy for them.

BUT THE NAME!

Metamodernism. Simultaneity. Multiple meanings at once. With an official acknowledgement or not, I’m proud to feel seen, if not by the creator directly, then by the community that knows the geography and history behind this story. Ashley and Guillaume built a definitive foundation with Metatron, and our decision to name our series in homage to theirs was a conversation. We were all breathing the same exhaust. If the filmmaker saw one of us, she effectively saw both. That’s the thing about community: none of us exist in a vacuum. We are a messy web of influence, feeding off each other directly or indirectly, intentionally or not, until the individual imprints blur into a single, shared history.

Ashley didn't mention our work in her own response to the film, and that’s okay. Narratives are often shaped by the limits of our own line of sight. THIS IS HAPPENING WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT was distinctly ground level. THISISNOTASAFESPACE was underground. Recognition is never guaranteed, but the history is richer when we take the time to acknowledge the full spectrum of contemporaries, ensuring the narrative reflects the community rather than just a few select highlights and name drops.

Ashley’s piece also discussed those of us who stayed, after the people that got famous got famous. That hit hard, do you know? I mean, plenty of the characters in our story left and moved back to their small towns and became real estate agents, but some of them genuinely got famous, and off they went. Some also died. That’s just the reality of the situation. Some of them, too many, are gone, and we miss them so fucking much.

Ashley’s still in Montreal, operating Metatron and writing. She continues to publish, and to foster community. Aside from the art I create, I founded the NPO that runs the magazine you’re reading right now, with the sole focus of covering ground level, underground, and marginalized art in Montreal. In fact, I’ve created the thing that we all, including Ashley and Guillaume, Laura and myself, lamented didn’t exist when we needed it most. Now it does.

It really doesn’t matter what happens in Mile End Kicks, or how it ends. It’s a great movie, don’t get me wrong, but the stakes are low, and it pretty much ends how you think it will, how you hope it will. That’s a good thing. That’s a testament to excellent screenwriting. The film didn’t leave me wanting anything else. I didn’t need further explanations of the social and political climate of the time, as some reviewers may. I didn’t need to know about the Red Square movement, or the slowly building rental crisis, because that’s not what this film was about.

If you’re from Montreal, whether you’ve lived here for a minute, or a decade, you should watch this film. If you’re not from Montreal and you want to know just what it is about this city that attracts the most interesting, challenging, beautiful, weird artists, then you should watch this film. If you’re the parent of some kid that moved to Montreal to pursue their dreams, and you’re sick of paying their fucking rent, you should watch this film. (And please, give them one more month to get their shit together.)