Editor’s Note: The quote “Who’s your father now?” was a mishearing of “Luke’s a father now!” in reference to Prism Shores drummer Luke Pound. Congratulations Luke!

This article is sixth in a series covering Exclaim! Magazine’s Class of 2026 concert lineups.

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

At 8:10 p.m. on January 24, I found myself standing at the doorway of the Baby G as the bouncer squinted at his guestlist, trying to decide whether his approximation of my name did in fact match my ID, a stone’s throw away from his hastily scrawled “Ali Kruger.” It felt like an appropriate prelude to a night billed loosely as shoegaze and spiritually as endurance. He scrutinized his list, I pleaded my case, the windchill hovered at a level hostile to life, and eventually I was waved inside to the floor of the Baby G, victorious and only a little numb in my fingers.

After performing an investigative lap of the venue to thaw my limbs before settling into a nook along the sidelines by the bass speakers, I found myself unknowingly posted up directly behind notorious Demo Mag photographer Rose Kinoshita. The room was about one-third full, which feels generous for a -20 windchill night in the depths of late January. A few older couples hovered at the barricade. Were they parents? Cool uncles? Longtime veterans of the Toronto scene? Hard to say as I’m still new to this city, but softly comforting regardless.

Next Week’s Washing, the first band of the night, burst onstage with a level and magnitude of  energy that I’ve seen many local indie boy bands aspire towards but fail to achieve. Lead singer Miles Duffy was emotive, even with his eyes closed for most of the set. His arms carved shapes in the air with what I can only describe as capturing a certain Slim Shady–esque spirit. Duffy had an impressive presence while battling with bursting energy that seemed to periodically overwhelm him with the sudden urge to jump, point, and demand noise. The audience complied more than willingly. 

The set, however, was a little all over the place. The tambourine came out too early in the evening (classic mistake), though it earned redemption by returning twice more, each time to better effect. There were lulls where the songs didn’t quite translate live, and peaks where the drums and momentum really locked in.

“To Carry On” got a solid response. The song had a great build—atmospheric, with layered vocals from all the members and an excellent rhythmic shift right at the end. It left the room with a warmer buzzing energy.

“Sexy Song” was punctuated by air punches with the tambourine. ‘90s Britpop combined with a grungier or shoegazier tone born out of Toronto garages and basements, guitarists Julian Duffy and Rhys Newman locked into a hypnotic chord cycle that carried the song through. A plea from the band that the crowd dance to the song with their sexiest friends here tonight was received by the audience, and the resurgence of the tambourine at the end finished the song. Commitment to the bit appreciated.

“Stop Production,” the band’s first release dating back to March of last year, was an audience favourite. Its crashing drums and hazy tones held my attention. It was clear that this was not the first time some in the audience had heard the song, and they responded well. Afterwards, Duffy announced “I know it’s scary out there, but I’m so proud to be Canadian,” he said, adding, “and to have nights like these,” before playing the final song of the set. They closed with a hazy, unreleased song called “Spiral,” (if I heard it correctly), preceded by a reminder that there’s “so much amazing Canadian music tonight.” Strong opening set overall. Uneven, but energetic enough to get bodies moving.

As Otsyuda waltzed onto the stage, I noted in my head that everyone involved or affiliated was wearing some sort of beanie (including the vocalist, whose white fur one was stupendously cunty). From the first song, the guitar tones were gripping and constantly shifting. The vocals sat frustratingly low in the mix, but it almost works in their favour. This is dream-pop adjacent shoegazey droning, meant to wash over you rather than explain itself.

The bass at the Baby G is the kind that physically knocks your loose jean fabric against your knees, and with Otsyuda, each knock is perfectly timed and gladly felt. Atmospheric effects, fast paced changes, and stylistic coherence kept my attention locked onstage the entire time. The guitarist absolutely killed it, showcasing techniques I had never heard on stage before but in a way that never slipped into self-indulgence.

One song ended with a spoken-word passage that rocked (delivered, I’m told, by the singer’s husband). The final track, “drift,” was the one I’d been waiting for—the final two minutes especially—and it was excellent live. The recording only does it about 70% justice, but go listen anyway. The vocalist’s almost whiny. delicate tone balanced beautifully against long, heavy, lulling notes and crashing guitars. Droning sounds, quick turns, and sick riffs are what made Otsyuda exciting to listen to. This was the most balanced set of the night, and I’ll be back whenever and wherever they perform next.

Earlier, while waiting for a 20-minute-late 506 streetcar and freezing inside a bus shelter, I’d been listening to Blood Moon in an attempt to familiarize myself with Meagan Aversa’s work before the show. In hindsight, that environment felt like the more proper way to experience her music. The crowd has thinned and aged since Otsyuda as Aversa emerged, bringing out handwritten setlists ripped straight from a lined notebook—it was instantly charming.

The set was dedicated to her best friend who passed away recently. It was slow, sad, melodic, and performed with a restraint that reads as professionalism rather than distance. Two new songs, “Shark” and “Both Sides of My Mouth,” landed well. The tone was shoe-plantingly sad, and although the vibe of the room had shifted far from Miles Duffy’s jumping, there was a thoughtfulness to Meagan Avera’s set that made it an equally enjoyable listening experience in an entirely different way. Lightening the mood, Aversa brought up topical stories of our day (“Heated Rivalry, amirite,” and “I heard trees are exploding these days.”) She was funny.

The final song built gorgeously, ending the set on a note of real depth. The nodding and swaying around me showed that people loved it. The contrast between her sound and the opener’s was stark, but the cohesion within her band was obvious. There was communication, collaboration, and maturity to her performance. She pulled on a sweater immediately after finishing the final song of her set (So real).

Prism Shores rolled in all the way from Montreal! to end the night with a ‘90s basement boy band energy. Are they exceptional? Not really. Are they upbeat, bright, fast, and confident? Absolutely. Main vocalist Jack MacKenzie was solid and assured in his voice, and I was deeply envious of his cardigan.

They played three new songs throughout their set, all of which will be announced as a part of  their upcoming record, Softest Attack. Mary Brown’s Chicken got a shoutout too, as it should. “Change My Mind” was a genuine banger, and people connected with it immediately. Some tracks ran a little long and leaned too hard into repetition.The whole vocal tone flirted with that of Oasis, but in a surprisingly positive way.

Brief pauses before songs left me wondering, until it was revealed that the setlist in front of all of the members had been written in red pen, causing it to become entirely unreadable to all members under the venue’s warm-toned lights. They had to reshuffle mid-set before they sent out a plea for the stage lights to be changed to green. Steady guitar riffs resounded throughout, and fans surrounded them, clearly enthusiastic and hungry for more. They closed strong and walked off confidently, shouting, “Who’s your father now?” (see Editor’s Note) Honestly? Fair question.

Overall, this night of Exclaim! Magazine’s Class of 2026 was a testament to the variety of voices available in this very large city. From confident local indie boy band Next Week’s Washing with incredible stage presence, to the gripping and shifting tones of Otsyuda’s shoegaze, to Megan Aversa’s melodic, mature presence, all the way to Prism Shore’s sunny riffs warming up even a -20 degree January night, it’s clear this city has much to offer.