To see Ronan Mitchell’s photos of the whole lineup, view our photo gallery here!

POV: It’s -22 degrees out, and Nora and I are braving the snow squalls in our painfully non-absorbent Doc Martens to catch tonight’s Class of 2026 show at The Rivoli. With frostbitten fingers, we decree that no polar vortex will keep us from tonight’s lineup: Monstrosa, WIENER KEBAB, CONNIE, and Dear Evangeline. Having endured the most horrific weather conditions known to man, we now present you with “Nora and Emma’s Comprehensive First-Person Account of Jan. 23 at The Rivoli.”

Toronto’s very own Monstrosa opened the show with a set that left me in a cold sweat. I mean, how do you begin to describe a performance that features multicolor graduation caps, crocheted luchador masks, a burlesque show, and a drummer in ambiguous reptilian headgear? You say, “Woah, this is fucking sick.” Monstrosa doesn’t pull any punches, which is ironic given their on-stage allusions to pro wrestling. Clad in silver pants and fishnet stockings, Monstrosa is L7 meets Morticia Addams. They couple melodic, winding vocals with grungy riffs that leave you unsure whether to headbang or break into song. Their 2023 album, Mild Fantasy Violence, straddles genres by incorporating heavy metal drums on tracks like “I Like Girls Like You,” only to pivot to a math rock rhythm on “Make My Move.” 

As the band kicked off with their recent single, “778,” I was stunned by the level of craftsmanship before me. Monstrosa’s commitment to costume design, choreography, and propwork made for a performance that looks as good as it sounds. Great instrumentation is one thing, but knowing how to work an audience is another. While Monstrosa is no stranger to shrieking guitars and vocal acrobatics, it’s their theatrics and unapologetic campiness that set them apart. What other band can break into a striptease and a leather-daddy interpretative dance within the span of 30 minutes? Keep in mind that most of the band members were orchestrating this whole thing while fully masked. As much as it pained me to tear my eyes from the stage, I opened my notes app to jot down, “It’s like if theatre kids were actually cool.”

By the time Wiener Kebab was up, I was sure I’d seen it all. If there’s one thing about this band, it’s that they’re patently anti-genre. By anti-genre, I don’t just mean that they play around with style: Wiener Kebab takes genre conventions, scrunches them up into a ball, and slam dunks them into the trash. A standout passage in my notes after their set is: “Bavarian dance punk meets polka meets blues.” The band’s own take on their sound? “Cow-punk, western-thrash, post-country.” Not that far off. 

We all love a concept album, but consider the following: a concept performance. Everything about Wiener Kebab’s on-stage presence is intentional, so much so that their performance is more akin to a play than a traditional gig. To the left, we’ve got a suit-wearing trio on sax, trombone, and trumpet. To the left, we’ve got our bassists and guitarists decked out in casual tees and flannels. Frontman V Kawadkar takes center stage in a striking gold blazer and matching ascot. The word ‘groovy’ isn’t really a part of my lexicon, but this guy is a prime candidate for the World’s Grooviest Man Alive award. Part Freddie Mercury, part superhero, he boogies and jives with a swagger unmatched by even the most skilled of swing dancers. 

Wiener Kebab are musical storytellers, and their sense of narrative whimsy comes across on their latest EP, No One Makes It Out Alive. Each song is rife with eclectic characters (see here: Julio the Coolio), relentless banjo riffs, and screeching eagle sound effects. At The Rivoli, the epic Western came to life amidst galloping guitar riffs and bebop sax solos. If anything, this band urges you to embark on a journey through time, space, and genre. So if you’re asking yourself what Wiener Kebab is, you’ve already lost the plot.

Like Monstrosa, fellow Toronto veterans CONNIE are a performance powerhouse. When this band plays, you get the sense that everyone in the audience is either a repeat attendee or just waiting to be converted. In the lead-up to the show, it seemed that everyone and their mother had a story about a legendary CONNIE performance they’d witnessed sometime, somewhere. Whether it be their fundraising show at Bar Orwell (RIP, big shouts out) or their album release at Dance Cave, the band’s reputation precedes them. 

Coming off of the release of their debut album, NOVEMBER HOPEFULLY, CONNIE is sweet but not cloying, angsty but not angry. A mishmash of songs recorded since 2021, NOVEMBER HOPEFULLY reads as a love letter to a band in the making. Hard-hitters like “Little Miss Sunshine” and “Scouts Honour” are made for the stage, boasting lyrics that no doubt resonate with a crowd that’s endured their fair share of shitty roommates. When asked about their album-recording process, the band’s members put it plainly: they keep everything that doesn’t suck. Mission accomplished. With their infectious hooks and wailing choruses, CONNIE invites the audience to crash headfirst into an indie rock free-for-all. As they jump seamlessly from pop-punk to melodic hardcore, you can’t help but two-step one moment and stage-dive the next. Range is the name of the game for a band that can both fry their vocals and harmonize on a love song. 

Having finally seen the light of an illustrious CONNIE performance, I’d be remiss not to ask “how do they do it?” How do these guys muster up the strength to deliver such awe-inducing performances day in and day out? Do they practice a pre-performance ritual of some kind? In response, guitarist and vocalist Ethan ‘Church’ Reid points wordlessly to the beer in front of him. I immediately understand. 

At risk of sounding like an after-school special, CONNIE harbours more than plain-old rockstar appeal. I mean, they definitely look like archetypal rock stars (see the quartet’s sunglasses and now retired black-tie suits), but it’s not about the optics. CONNIE has a lot going for them, but their ability to have fun is what sets them apart. In a sea of too cool, the value of rocking out can’t be overstated. 

I also had the pleasure of chatting with Dear Evangeline before their set. Dear Evangeline are the coolest girls you know because they don’t give a shit about being cool. They’re just fucking cool. Hailing from Brampton (Flower City, if you’re chill like that), Dear Evangeline have become a mainstay in the Southern Ontario hardcore scene. Whether you’ve followed them since their 2024 EP or are just tuning in, it’s easy to see why the five-piece is the talk of the Golden Horseshoe. From their 2023 singles, “Saint Complex” and “BITCH,” to their recent EP, The Other Side, Dear Evangeline are catharsis manifest. With lyrics like, “Talking in circles/I wanna throw you across the room,” Dear Evangeline makes music for every girl who’s ever felt too weird, too loud, too angry, or all of the above. 

Before we even set down our $12.50 Stella Artois, we were all talking over each other. We did our obligatory intros, but it never really felt like a traditional interview. Our conversation was replete with references to lesbian Calico Critters, Greek mythology, 6-7, ballet, Björk, and swan brawling (thematically relevant). Having recently released their EP The Other Side, the girls were eager to share their Top Secret™ EP production process. The Other Side, which was produced by Robert Ortiz of DEAR-GOD, was made possible by the following: access to V’s garage (shoutout Scab), Mikhail Fokine’s The Dying Swan, the myth of Leda and the Swan, and swan fights on YouTube. The end result is something that, in the words of bassist Xingyu, should ideally be listened to while in either a swamp or a state of deep mental turmoil. Although we were neither in a swamp nor in a state of mental turmoil, Nora and I were lucky enough to catch a few of the band’s new songs in their performance. To say that Dear Evangeline has a killer stage presence would be an understatement. I think I found God at the periphery of the pit. Keke, the band’s frontwoman, delivered a vocal performance that was nothing short of arresting. As one of the band’s founding members, she’s been mastering the art of screaming (and it is an art) since she was 16. The girls’ unmatched energy stems from the fact that they’re playing for each other more than they’re playing for us. From Prim and Robyn’s back-and-forth on bass and guitar to Keke and Xingyu’s ruthless vocals, Dear Evangeline’s set is a messianic jam session. Not to mention that Olivia’s momentum on drums is enough to make Janet Weiss quake in her boots. 

As I watched fellow Demo contributor Kate Howden jump into the pit, I thought back to Dear Evangeline’s self-described ethos: beautiful, gay women screaming. This checks out. I mean, they bark expletives and tie ribbons to the necks of their guitars. They’re equal parts Tchaikovsky and animal kingdom—both operatic and erratic. They’re the musical equivalent of a swan brawl because they’re “violent, yet beautiful,” and therein lies their appeal.