I last covered a show for Demo in the dead of winter. It was January (awful) and I was stationed at the Rivoli for Exclaim!’s Class of 2026 (less awful). This time around, I was sweating buckets at St. Stephen-In-The-Fields-Church to cover day two of the second annual Loveless Festival. Hosted by Toronto’s Loveless Collective, the two-day fest brought together 24 bands from Toronto and beyond. With my trusty Notes app at the ready, I set out to catch a triple-threat lineup: Somet, Laveda, and Bleary Eyed.

Montreal’s very own Somet opened up St. Stephen’s with a set that left me headbanging, yearning, and desperate to punch a wall. With just two singles under their belt, Somet is a newer project with a familiar appeal. Despite being labelled as emotional shoegaze, the alt rock quartet reads as instrumentally grunge, lyrically emo, and spiritually pop punk. Somet’s sound is imbued with a nostalgic, nearly adolescent angst. They don’t skimp on the sentimentality, with songs like “Sorry” speaking to a romance gone sour and “Back To You” lamenting a never ending breakup. They’ve got all the trappings of a classic pop punk group – shamelessly lovesick and ostensibly whiny – but their candor is levelled with a healthy dose of grit. The band wasted no time taking centre stage, transforming the humble church into a mosher’s paradise with every wailing guitar riff and heartbroken howl. They fit right in at St. Stephen’s, as the band’s shaggy-haired lead vocalist Milan Mudie noted that “they say I look like Jesus, I guess I’m in the right place.” Given the artificial smog and lack of A/C, I was heatfucked enough to believe that we had a regular emo Jesus in our midst.

There was something borderline biblical in the way that Mudie and his sticker-clad guitar soared across the stage. Pair this with Somet’s cutthroat, anguished vocals and you’ve got a performance sure to move even the most frigid of wallflowers. In addition to the singles, we were also treated to some unreleased tracks, one of which was described as being about “lies and shit.” Each song was eerily diaristic, and I couldn’t help but feel that we were listening in on a series of scornful journal entries. Still, I like the idea of grown men waxing poetic about the one that got away. As I exited the venue in search of a raspberry sour, I overheard someone telling his friend that his right ear would never be the same. I guess that’s just the price you pay to witness emo Jesus in the flesh.

Things were quite literally heating up by the time that Brooklyn noise rockers Laveda took the stage. It’s no surprise that a church built in 1857 isn’t fitted with the most advanced ventilation, but things were getting stuffier than I’d anticipated. Still, I powered on. Having released three albums and two EP’s since 2019, Laveda possessed the conviction and acuity of a band that’s steadily come into its own. Coasting off of the release of their latest album, Love, Darla, the New York four-piece has established itself as a major player in the East Coast indie scene. Laveda’s industrial instrumentation and raw vocals defy genre altogether – too melodic for grunge, too relentless for indie rock, but just versatile enough to demand your attention. I could slap a ready-made label on this band, but I’d be doing them a disservice. Harkening back to the experimental tones of ‘90s classics like Yo La Tengo and Eric’s Trip, Laveda is somehow both homespun and expertly produced. Best described as a reverb-soaked dreamscape, this band’s rugged brutality doesn’t compromise its vulnerability.

For all their momentum, it’s Laveda’s on-stage synergy that stuck with me the most. Founding members Ali Genevich and Jacob Brooks share a familiar synchronicity, harmonizing intuitively on tracks like Love, Darla’s “Bonehead” or What Happens After’s “Better Now.” There’s a depth and gravity to their stage presence that culminated with every crashing drum solo or frantic bass riff. By gravity, I don’t mean that they take themselves too seriously, but rather that there’s an unrelenting immediacy to their performance. Just when you think they’re about to press on the brakes, they double down. Towards the end of their set, I almost forgot that I was supposed to be taking notes because I was too busy dissolving into a sonic haze. I debated whether I should use the word “massive” to describe this band’s sound, but I can’t find a more fitting term. Laveda is massive, but not imposing. 

Philadelphia heavyweights Bleary Eyed closed out the night with an ethereal computer-pop performance that sat somewhere between frutiger aero and Swirlies*. At this point, there wasn’t a dry brow in the audience. The four walls of St. Stephen’s can only contain so much sweat, but I braved the heat to catch one of my favourite shoegaze up-and-comers. Fresh off of touring with Tigers Jaw and Pool Kids, Bleary Eyed is as busy as ever. They also conveniently celebrated the one-year anniversary of their 2025 album, Easy, over the Loveless Festival weekend – a fact which invited a resounding “Happy birthday!” from one jolly concert-goer. Bleary Eyed have no doubt carved out a niche for themselves since their inception in 2015. Revivalism may be all the rage, but the Philly outfit offers a novel take on twenty-first century shoegaze.

*I’m not just saying this because frontman Nathaniel Salfi was wearing a Swirlies tee. I just want to make this clear. Thanks. 

 They straddle the cusp of traditional noise pop and twinkly electronic, resulting in an ambitious glitch-grunge project. They pay homage to their influences without totally succumbing to them, pairing classic distortion with spacey sampling and pillowy, harmonic vocals. After a year’s worth of Easy listening (haha), I was curious to see how this album – and the band’s overall sound – would translate live. As it turns out, Bleary Eyed’s intergalactic acoustics were well suited to the high ceilings of St. Stephen’s. The fuzzy glide guitars and cascading reverb on songs like “Special” were only heightened by the venue’s stifling heat and teal strobe lighting. The already otherworldly tones of Easy’s titular track became nearly echolalic on stage. Amid the sweaty delirium, I wondered: is this the closest I’ll get to simulating an acid trip while sober? 

 While I left St. Stephen’s a little deafer and a whole lot sweatier than when I first entered, I also left with a great deal of gratitude for all those who came together to make tonight’s lineup possible. I ended my night with a tofu banh mi at The Green Room on College and marinated in my renewed appreciation for the local music scene (and for The Green Room’s huge fan and stable A/C).