This article is third in a series covering Exclaim! Magazine’s Class of 2026 concert lineups. To buy tickets to an upcoming Class of 2026 show, click here.

To see all of Rose Kinoshita’s photos of the night, view our photo gallery here!

At the Monarch Tavern on the evening of January 16, like any venue worth its reputation in the city, the music was loud and communicating at the door was a strenuous affair. “WHAT’S YOUR NAME?!” The bouncer asked. I screamed back the answer about 7 or 8 times, much to no avail. Finally, we gave up trying to communicate in words, “GIVE ME YOUR ID!!!!” I showed him my ID. Success! Finally, I was in. This exchange was underlain by Bends’ set, which opened the night. One thing I immediately noticed about Bends is that their sound fills a room; their vocals blend into the drone of guitars which is seamlessly supported by an easy-to-follow drum line. I could barely hear the bouncer, and the bouncer wanted me dead, probably.

My initial impression of Bends was that everything fit together perfectly, but nothing quite stood out. But then I bought my first tiny $8 can of Canadian, and I stood near a group of older guys—heads swung, moving along to the music, I realized that for all intents and purposes, Bends’ music is made for someone quite different than me. Guys who used to be off the deep end of hard rock and have never stopped going to see local shows, even now that they’ve made it somewhat past their glory years. Eventually, Bends hit an instrumental break where their once monotonous blend became genuine rippage; standing there gripping my beer, I resonated with those middle aged men. One of their most recent releases, “Same Hands,” is a testament to what they absolutely could be: a band that knows each other well enough to build off of each other’s playing. And while I left satisfied, at times, their songs tended to fade a little into the back of your mind.

After a break and a second tiny $8 can of Canadian came Miserable Weekend. I hope I’m not the first person to say this, but their set was anything but miserable. I snuck my way underneath the speaker next to the stage to say hello to Rose, our fantastic photographer, and what I saw up there was miraculous. Their energy was palpable, and within the first minute, mic stands and instruments were being knocked over to make room for their frontman’s David Byrne-esque dance breaks. Miserable Weekend is one of those bands that clearly love performing live, and for good reason. They completely lose spatial awareness during their performance which, as an audience member (especially one standing alone), is exactly what you need to see on stage to get comfortable in the crowd. The addition of a saxophone, almost epilepsy-inducing lightwork and overwhelming use of the smoke machine makes their set entirely immersive; an organized chaos. As a self-reported soft punk band, Miserable Weekend is loud and intense enough to keep you alert, and still has guitar lines that end up being pretty funky at points. After “Summertime Sickness,” my personal favourite from their most recent EP, We’re Just Like You, another singer hit the stage for a duet. The unpredictability of their music became somewhat disjointed at points with a second singer involved; their slightly discordant keys as they approached harmonies had me losing some of my initial immersion, and the added performer on stage was slightly claustrophobic. However, all things considered, my friend arrived halfway through their set and we ended up dancing around gracefully until it was over.

Much to my dismay, I missed the beginning of Cute since I stood outside for too long to cool off, and ended up letting people take my Lucky Strikes like I was feeding ducks. I walked back in and showed the bouncer my stamp again (which he inspected like a museum artifact), and I was met with the sound of Hamilton’s post-rock scene, with nearly unbearable electronic sound effects that, contradictingly, take their music into territorial perfection. The noise envelops the room, and takes you with it. You’re in the Hamilton smokestacks in a neverending streak of traffic, it all starts to feel pretty familiar. Noise rock is a genre that I’ve grown to appreciate over time, and Cute makes me thankful for that growth. Eventually, the genre becomes all you want to hear when you see a show because you get to work through the set with the people around you; it’s communal. And Cute’s performance was just the same. Part way through, the lights in the room were cut and the band turned on headlights. When their heads moved, the headlights moved, and the strobe effect was nothing but favourable to their industrial foundation. Cute plays the kind of music that you have to let wash over you—long intros rewarded by explosive playing that is heavy handed but still intentional. Even in their recorded music, their album she is soul-crushing when you need it to be, and refreshing when you want it to be. And to hear it all go down live was just the same.

Torrent is like the golden baby goose egg of the Toronto music scene. I’ve seen them a million times, and so has every other person you know who’s lived in the city for any consequential amount of time and can name at least three local bands. And of course, their performances never disappoint. Their saxophone lines scratch an itch that other post-punk bands just can’t seem to reach. Every song they did had its own kind of precision; intros that ease you in smoothly, and without you even noticing it, reach a drop that would make any room with any amount of people into a pit. Their guitar and bass never play a boring part, practically drowning you in distortion, and their drummer finds pockets that my high school percussionist heart could only dream of. Besides their soul-crushingly awesome playing, their samples are unreal and intentionally chosen, which is something that bands of the genre can often have some trouble doing. Every time I’ve seen them, they prove again and again that they don’t need to rely on smoke screens or lighting to engage a crowd – their music grips you after the first build, and keeps you there until they leave the stage. Hearing “II. FORGIVE ME, I ONLY LOVED YOU FOR AN HOUR” live has me kissing my friends on the mouth and thanking God I’m alive every single time. They’re the kind of band you go to a DIY venue behind a gas station for—one that you can’t manage to find, in which a bald guy in a low rider yells directions at you that lead you exactly where you need to go without you even asking. While I’m tempted to attribute this at least in part to the saxophone (which I will not stop talking about), everyone in attendance leaves Torrent in a good mood, because they leave having listened to the most transcendental instrumental breaks they’ve heard since Beethoven. And on that note, look out for an interview in the works with them about their music, if you’re interested in finding out more!

This was the kind of night you end at City Pool with your friends, having such an impassioned conversation that the table next to you offers you and your friends a shot for your troubles. Exclaim!’s dedication to finding the most unforgettable acts in the scene was not lost on this show. Every band that came on was entirely different from the previous, and they all provided something unique and new. Once again, my high expectations for “Class of” have been met, and I leave with one final message: never be afraid to get a saxophonist to join your band. And wherever you are mysterious white man from City Pool, I wish you the best, and you were absolutely missed at Class of 2026 Night 3.