August 13, 2025. @smallman.bigmouth on Instagram shared a post announcing their first show in over a year and a half.

It was a hazy black and white landscape photo of a country road with a car peeking out of the horizon; white text overtop reads “it is happening again,” with show details in a smaller font below. The poster itself was simple, but the announcement as a whole came after a month of cryptic uploads, and within it held years worth of meaning.

My friends and I used to go to Small Man, Big Mouth shows when we were in high school circa 2023-2024; them, more so than I, as I was trapped in small-town-Catholic-school-hell three hours away. But when I wasn’t attending the shows myself, I would hear all about them alongside high praise. After I moved to Toronto for university, we went to see them play one more time at a venue not far from campus. None of us could have predicted the unusually experimental sounds we’d hear that night, let alone it being the band’s last show for a long while. 

So of course, when that first teaser reached my Instagram feed back in July—a photo of what used to be the exterior of now-defunct bar/venue Bar Orwell—a teardrop practically fell from my eye. Judging from the post’s comments and the hundreds of likes received across this new batch of uploads, I wasn’t alone in my contentment. 

Small Man, Big Mouth comprises Cal (left) on drums and Arlo (right) on bass and vocals—though Cal is occasionally allowed to speak into a hot pink megaphone while on stage as a means of communicating his woes via heavily encrypted lyrics.

Though, you’d never guess there were only two of them if you hadn’t seen them play live. Their sound is ferocious and all-encompassing. It’s hard not to get swept up. Songs like “Mary the Fairy” and “I Hate Your Fucking Band” impose a sense of urgency that is unavoidable yet entirely interim. There you are: in the pit at Cinecycle, or in the shower, or even sitting in bed at night writing an article for Demo Magazine, and for give-or-take 120 seconds, your reptilian brain is in full throttle, compelling your earthly body beyond the metaphysical. Naturally, the same could be said for their first set back in the saddle. 

My friends and I arrived at BSMT 254 late, stepping out of our cab into a light rain. A hoard of youngins dressed in all black were flocked around the entrance of the venue, so we knew we’d missed the first set. Upon making it down the stairs, we were greeted by none other than Arlo and Cal themselves, sitting at the entrance table collecting covers. After a confusing back and forth with them concerning our bills, which demonstrated why none of us were in school for math, they stamped the BSMT 254 logo on the top of my hand and then on the cuff of my friend’s shirt sleeve, and we were on our way. Wiener Kebab played their set, I transcended planes to “Julio,” and up next was the reason why we’d all come together in the first place.

KOK and WK are tough acts to follow, but even after a 17-month-long hiatus, it was evident that Small Man, Big Mouth had fallen right back into their prime. Classics like “Don’t Take Yourself Too Seriously!” weaved with new songs like “Amoebas in My Penis” had the pit oozing with raw energy; a joie de vivre. It hit no less hard a few metres back at the bar, where the band could be seen on the mounted TV wailing into their microphones and flailing their arms about, digitally crunched up and slightly more purple in the live video output of the stage.

Small Man, Big Mouth was on their best behaviour, and the crowd returned the sentiment tenfold. The youngins expressed their excitement by banging their heads, folding rhythmically at the waist, and jumping on each other. I’ve only ever seen similar balls of violence in cartoons when they draw fights as big clouds with assorted limbs and five-pointed stars flying out of them. At some point, people started using the wooden column in the middle of the floor to anchor themselves amongst the riot. The pair had delivered a cathartic show. 

Afterwards, I joined the band for a quick smoke break outside, where we huddled and chatted under an umbrella held up graciously by Matt of Weiner Kebab. The duo and I then headed backstage to commence our long-awaited interview.

XIME: Could you give an abstract of Small Man, Big Mouth for anyone who might be unaware?

CAL: Rock and roll band.

ARLO: Hog-pfunk!

X: How did you start as a band, and what are your influences?

C: Brown music, brown metal.

A: Brown metal, totally. Haha, that’s good. We started when we were in high school and we had a band with our friend who was the guitarist. We were very into the Minutemen…

C: Primus, Tool, Rush…

A: … And Ween…

C: … Led Zeppelin.

A: … Other bands, too, and we wanted to see shit like that. 

C: We wanted to play what we didn’t hear in the world.

A: Hah… Yeah, man…

C: Hehehe.

X: Brown metal, is this like the brown note?

C: It’s close!

Editor’s note: The brown note (sometimes brown tone or frequency) is a hypothetical infrasonic frequency capable of causing fecal incontinence by creating acoustic resonance in the human bowel. (Wikipedia) Example pictured below.

(Get it? ‘Cause Cal looks like he shit himself.)

A: “Brown” is a slang that the band Ween would use to describe something that’s like, amateurishly bad, but in a charming way.

X: Cool! Your band is quite loved locally, I find. Could you speak to your experience performing locally, especially having started while you were in high school?

A: Sure. I mean, I love playing any live music ever, it’s just my favouritest thing to do, and I also think that the embracement of the people around it—it’s so nice! It’s so nice how everybody cares about us, I don’t know why. I think it’s our sense of humour.

C: Something about starting when we were really young… You’d go to all ages shows and get pushed around by big guys, and one thing that I think people enjoy about us is that we’re not [part of] a very mean scene. We’re not like, you know, you’re a 5’2” woman and you go there and you get punched in the breasts and in the face and in the mouth by some fuckin’ 43-year-old alcoholic. Playing as young people, we wanted to be a part of a scene that wasn’t really there yet, as well as [be] figures within a scene where you can be a small person…

A: A Small Maaaaaan!

C: … Or you can be just a person that doesn’t wanna get the shit kicked out of them listening to the same shitty hardcore riffs over and over again.

A: Absolutely, that was a big deal. We were created in a bit of a rejection of that kind of shit that we were seeing at shows that we were going to that made us unhappy and sad… I just am fuckin’ tired of the fuckin’ tough guy bullshit of hardcore stuff.

C: Yeah, the weird, “out there” heavy music scene in Toronto, especially when—still now—but especially when we were young, was these guys that kept playing Earth Crisis riffs over and over again, and they’re 32 [years old], and they hate anybody that can’t name twelve [of the band’s songs].

A: Yeah, that was a thing.

C: These guys that made this music that was supposed to be this non-conformist punk rock scene, but they would just beat up on anybody that didn’t completely fit their prototype of a person that should be at these shows.

A: Totally. With their rejection of norms, they created another equally as constraining rule set, and we thought that that was dumb. Yeah, we get real worked up when people ask us this question!

X: You’ve played in a number of different cities, is there something specific about Toronto, your home base, that you find special? Maybe apart from what you guys talked about?

C: I’ve been a child everywhere.

A: That’s true! I also think that at the scene’s best, there are these wonderful little pockets of shows that… There’s four different bands [playing together] that are completely different and they all get along and have fun and everybody goes to see [them] for the music, instead of being a rigid “play this” kind of shit. 

X: You guys touched on this in your set, but I’m gonna say a phrase, and can you just tell me what comes to mind: PLAY REPTILE.

A: Haaa-hahahahahahaha. St. Catherines show!

C: Shoutout Zach Tennant! Shoutout Lizra!

A: Play Reptile! Play Reptile, play Reptile…

C: That was a buddy of ours, that we grew up with, that came up with the band Lizra.

A: It was other people, also.

X: Yes! ‘Cause my friends have seen more of your shows [than me], and they were like, “At every show we went to, there was some guy screaming ‘Play Reptile’…” So, he started it, you knew him, and then other people, random people, started…

A: … Saying it.

C: This young man, we’ve known since we were fourteen at Rosedale Heights School of the Arts.

X: You guys went to Rosedale? Both of you?

A: We did.

X: What majors were you in?

C: They don’t have majors at Rosedale.

A: Yeah, you just kinda choose your stuff. But we [both] did music, and I did theatre. 

X: Theatre?!

A: Yeah, you can’t tell when we’re up there?

C: I did drama for grade 9 and 10. I wasn’t in any of the plays, though, ‘cause they didn’t like my subtlety…

X: This kind of brings me to my next question. I find some recurring themes in some of your songs. Fantasy, forests, creatures, fairies…

A: We do like that shit.

X: And you guys had a thing on Instagram, like, “call this number”…

C: That’s Zach’s number… Don’t print that! Don’t print that.

A: Hahaha, no, it’s fine. That is Zach’s number. He agreed to be on the posters and fuck with people that called.

X: Well, my friends and I called and we heard a long… “You’re in a forest, and you’re walking very far, and you see a very small man…” It’s this fantastical [world].

A: Definitely a complete coincidence, ‘cause he had no script. He made up every single thing on the spot. The dude’s a genius.

X: How many people called the number?

A: So. Fucking. Many.

X: And did he have to call them all back?

A: He has been doing that, just on his own time. I don’t know when it’s gonna calm down. It was crazy; I was getting lunch with him, writing the lyrics to one of the songs that we played tonight, and he’s like, “Hold on, I have to take this,” and he was like, “You see the small [man]? Well, that’s impossible because he’s standing right next to me!”

X: Have you always gravitated towards these themes? Was it conscious, or did it just happen this way?

A: I think it just happened—I mean we both just really like Lord of the Rings.

C: We love Lord of the Rings, we love Dark Souls.

A: I like Dark Souls. He’s fake.

C: I like the aesthetic of it. I like making a character in Dark Souls.

A: It’s also really easy to write about scary dragons and swords and stuff.

C: Rush—they do that. Primus does that.

A: That’s true, we do really like Rush, and they talk about shit like that.

X: And you bring this theatre element into it.

C: We’re very theatrical.

X: Yes! With the megaphone.

C: We love a prop.

X: A gimmick?

A: A good ol’ gimmick.

X: A parody.

A: If you wish.

C: Arlo’s actually a musical theatre guy. I’m like a born again Christian but for musical theatre. I love to perform.

A: We love the theatah. I was Willy Wonka.

C: We’re dancing in the show…

TOGETHER: … To-niiight!

X: Correct me if I’m wrong, your last show, was it March 12, 2025 at Supermarket with Thank God For The Rain and Garden Gnome?

A: Yes, that was our last show!

X: I saw that show. Could you talk about that set?

C: We were bored.

A: Oh, cause it was crazy. Yeah, no, we decided that we hated all of our old songs and that we wanted to completely reform ourselves and be an awesome free jazz duo.

X: Yeah, it got a little experimental that night.

A: Oh, yeah. I think we had, like, three songs and they were all 15 minutes. That’s also when I did the song about my dead dog. 

C: Rest in peace Bluey.

X: You were sick of all your songs, was that what started your hiatus?

C: Well, I had a blister on my thumb. That’s our official answer.

X: So… what did you, collectively or individually, do about the blister? It’s kind of serious, a blister.

C: We put tape on it.

A: Didn’t work.

C: But then we had to put posters up, so we had to take the tape off at some point. I don’t know, we both grew up in a one-tape household, so…

X: It’s tough, right?

A: It is, yeah…

X: So how did this blister affect the trajectory of [the band]?

A: I think that after the blister—it really drove us apart, you know?

C: Well, we were suing each other.

A: We were suing each other, entrenched in an intense legal battle.

X: Over the blister?

C: No, no, no. Over the rights to a song that we…

A: I wrote.

C: Well, that’s just blatantly… That’s just not true.

A: We’ll let our lawyers handle this, but… We eventually decided that the blister and legal battle can’t get between two best buddies to make awesome songs.

C: So, it’s still going on, I still have the blister, and we’re still in a legal battle, but we decided to just put that off to the side. 

A: And put the music first.

X: That’s quite mature. I would like to say, congratulations to you both.

TOGETHER: Thank you.

A: We’re really, very, incredibly excited.

C: The boys are back in town.

X: Slowly, these little teasers started releasing on the Instagram page. How much forethought and planning went into that?

A: We were outside Bar Orwell and we were pretty drunk and we were like, “What if we [teased our return]?” And then we did it.

C: A medium amount of planning.

A: And then the next day we went to Cinecycle, which, [that and Bar Orwell] were two major points in the Small Man trajectory. We’ve played some fantastic shows at both of those places.

C: Both places that… They don’t do shows there anymore. It was kind of like, Small Man, Big Mouth was born, Small Man, Big Mouth is dead, long live Small Man, Big Mouth.

X: So it was kind of a spur of the moment thing.

C: Well, we knew we were coming back.

A: I think that night we were like, “Let’s just book a venue and do the thing,” and then we did.

C: I don’t know why he’s saying “let’s,” like, “let us.” I did it. I booked the venue.

A: He handles all the money and the venues and the Instagram, and I just play the bass, really.

C: It’s insane that he’s suing me over something else. He’s made, like, $40 over the 5 years we’ve been a band.

A: Hahaha.

X: So you’ve played your show… Some new songs, I hear?

A: Yeeeah!

X: When were you guys writing those? Was there a timeline?

C: We did give ourselves a bit of a deadline, ‘cause if we don’t have something we’re working towards, we don’t do dick. But if we have a week to do something, we’ll write a bunch of songs.

X: So what’s the songwriting process like for you?

C: Just jamming. 

A: We jam, sometimes one of us comes in with a riff or a drum thing, sometimes we write the name of the song and then write the song around whatever the name is.

C: You gotta stay on your toes and kinda fuckin’ dribble around the whole writing thing. You gotta surprise it every time. 

A: I also think that our songwriting process is incredibly snappy and we can pump shit out so fast because it’s just the two of us and we have such a psychic connection, you know?

C: It’s ‘cause he was circumcised and I was cloned from that tissue, so we have the same brain. 

X: So when you’re writing songs, are you working towards one universe, around one central idea?

A: That’d be cool! We should do that! We also wanna make another item of music to listen to. An album, an EP—we’ve got stuff coming.

X: What’s in the works? As much as you can share.

A: Definitely songs, and then shows, and then maybe an album.

C: We’re a live band. We write everything for shows. 

A: That’s true. 

C: And then when the time came to make an EP, when the time came to make an album, we already had the songs. We do everything for the show. 

A: Totally. That’s our most favouritest part. A lot of it is quite stream-of-consciousness. There are so many songs where I’m just fucking around and I’m like, “Oh, that’s cool!” And then it’s a song in five minutes.

C: Yeah, like our song “Amoebas in My Penis” came from Arlo playing something stupid and I played along with it and then…

A: And then it was awesome!

C: … I started saying “amoebas,” ‘cause that was on my mind, ‘cause I was worried that I had some kind of disease at that moment.

X: From the blister, maybe?

A: You’re so fucking right! That could’ve been the conclusion of the blister arc. 

C: Could be that. But, yeah, I was thinking about amoebas, and then, what [else] rhymes with amoebas but penis?

X: Penis, naturally, yes…

C: And then we had that song in maybe two minutes.

X: Do you have any upcoming shows that you’d like to tease now?

C: We’re playing with C’est La Fête…

A: … and Lizra! That one’s gonna be fun. That one’s gonna be at BSMT 254, September 10th, five dollars! Isn’t that cool?

C: Five dollar bill. That’s what it used to be, back in the day.

A: Sorry if we smell terrible. I just wanna say.

X: I actually can’t smell anything right now.

A: Wicked.

C: I spilled so much beer on myself earlier.

X: What is your beer of choice?

C: We’ve been digging these new Millers.

A: They really pop! They got a new can.

C: They’ve got this new design that just pops! Pops!

A: It’s so cool, it’s a really bright red. That’s why we like them.

C: There’s a witch on the side, which is wicked.

A: We like Old Milwaukee. I like a crisp Guinness.

C: Pilsner… I don’t really care about Guinness. I like an amber, like a Henderson’s.

A: I just choose it based off of how nice the can is, really.

C: We like Labatt 50.

A: Yeah, that’s actually the official Small Man beer, I think. Can it be the official…?

C: Yeah, I’m into that.

X: Could you please say it…

TOGETHER: This is Small Man, Big Mouth officially endorsing Labatt 50!

X: That was great. 

In the wake of our lovely conversation, we parted ways at the venue and my friends and I trekked across the street to wait for our streetcar under the shelter at the stop, the rain pouring down harder than ever. 

Just five days later, the band performed with Man Is Five and Heat at Houndstooth, the night of the partial lunar eclipse. This is where I managed to take this wonderfully theatrical, bewitchingly fantastical, and wholly didactical set of photos, which I can only hope have captured the grandiosity that surrounds Small Man, Big Mouth.

That night, I also beat them in an intensely close game of pool, which in my opinion is not for naught.

CAL’S ONE LINERS

Smells of the future!

The tetrarch has forbidden it. 

The King of the Frogs is gonna do the best with what he’s got.

That strip club was an institution of this neighbourhood!

He played a half-mutilated corpse on a TV show that’s kind of about everything. 

MY OWN ADDITION: The man may be small, his mouth may be disproportionately big, but boy, can he make a comeback to the scene!