In Montreal, journalist Louis-Philippe Messier travels mostly on the run, his desk in his backpack, on the lookout for fascinating subjects and people. He speaks to everyone and is interested in all walks of life in this urban chronicle.
Suffocated by his debts, the artist Marco Calliari keeps himself afloat by resorting to the most affordable performance hall available to organize concert evenings: his own living room.
Mountain of boots in the entrance corridor, stacks of coats on insufficient hooks, children squealing and playing on the second floor: an atmosphere of a large family celebration reigns among the 49-year-old Italian-Quebecois singer on the eve of his show last Saturday.
In this residential area dotted with Tempo shelters, not far from the concrete viaduct of Highway 40, only one house has kept its inflatable Christmas decorations lit: that of the artist.
Already arriving an hour before the start of the show, around twenty spectators are chatting and laughing.
With a 35-year career and six albums of songs in Italian, singer Marco Calliari, without being a mega-star, has loyal admirers and gives concerts across the province. But this schedule was no longer enough.
- Listen to the interview with Marco Calliari on Sophie Durocher’s microphone via QUB :
“I fell victim to my optimism and sunk my savings into the Festival au Galop at Sainte-Sophie, which attracted very few people. I paid everyone, but I lost $40,000.”
“I recently had to repay a federal loan received during the pandemic by going into even more debt. Here I am literally an “artist on credit”.”
“These concerts at home keep my head above water. I ask for a reasonable price: $50. My girlfriend, Geneviève, thanks to her, takes care of serving the charcuterie and cheese platters. I prepare the tiramisus in glasses myself.”
Geneviève Lavoie, the singer’s lover, shows the charcuterie and cheese platters.
“Photo Louis-Philippe Messier”
The home of Marco Calliari, former heavy metal singer of the band Anonymus who reinvented himself as an Italian singer around twenty years ago, is warm and loaded with family decorations, trinkets and musical instruments hanging on the wall.
The decoration at Marco Calliari is warm.
“Photo Louis-Philippe Messier”
His father, Mario, is still there and occasionally sings with him.
“My mother is also present, you could say, even though she died a little over a year ago: her urn is on the piano. For my father and me, these evenings are comforting. It’s a dose of love.”
“The toilet is on the second floor on the right just after our pet rat’s cage,” the singer tells his audience seated on stools gleaned from Marketplace and homemade bistro tables.
As the artist’s girlfriend is the only one to provide service that evening, I give her a hand (while I’m reporting) and the performers themselves take care of distributing or clearing the trays.
Two spectators are sitting on the stairs. All tickets were already sold and they were added at the last minute with the artist’s permission.
“It doesn’t look like an indoor concert, but it reminds me of certain small Spanish bars in Madrid,” says Marie-Eve Boivin.
Marie-Eve Rosa and Marie-Eve Boivin from Saint-Sauveur were added once all the tickets were sold and were sitting on the stairs.
“Photo Louis-Philippe Messier”
“I organized these evenings out of necessity, but I got a taste for them!” confides Marco Calliari.
Apparently, his audience also likes this mini-house show formula.
“I came down from Saguenay for that!” Valérie Dufour told me.
I also speak to an amateur who comes from Gaspé.
Two of the next three concerts Saturday at Calliari are already full.
The “room” seen from the small stage.
“Photo Louis-Philippe Messier”