In Montreal, journalist Louis-Philippe Messier is mostly on the run, with his desk in his backpack, looking for fascinating topics and people. In this city chronicle he speaks to everyone and is interested in all areas of life.
Stifled by debt, artist Marco Calliari stays afloat by organizing concert evenings using the most affordable event space available: his own living room.
Piles of boots in the entrance area, piles of coats on inadequate hooks, children screaming and playing on the second floor: on the eve of his last show, the 49-year-old Italian-Quebecan singer has the atmosphere of a big family celebration Saturday.
In this residential area dotted with temporary shelters not far from the concrete Highway 40 viaduct, only one home has lit its inflatable Christmas decorations: the artist's.
An hour before the show starts, around twenty spectators arrive, chatting and laughing.
With a 35-year career and six albums of Italian songs, the singer Marco Calliari, without being a megastar, has loyal admirers and gives concerts throughout the province. But this schedule was no longer sufficient.
“I fell victim to my optimism and put my savings into the Festival au Galop in Sainte-Sophie, which attracted very few people. I paid everyone, but I lost $40,000.”
“I recently had to pay off a federal loan I received during the pandemic by going into even more debt. Here I am, in the truest sense of the word, an “artist on credit”.
“These concerts at home keep me afloat. I ask for a reasonable price: $50. Thanks to her, my friend Geneviève takes care of serving the sausage and cheese platters. I prepare the tiramisus in glasses myself.”
Geneviève Lavoie, the singer's lover, shows the sausage and cheese platters. “Photo Louis-Philippe Messier”
The home of Marco Calliari, the former heavy metal singer of the band Anonymus who reinvented himself as an Italian singer about twenty years ago, is warm and full of family decorations, jewelry and musical instruments hanging on the wall.
The decoration at Marco Calliari is warm. “Photo Louis-Philippe Messier”
His father Mario is still there and occasionally sings with him.
“My mother is there too, you could say, even though she died a little over a year ago: her urn is on the piano. These evenings are comforting for my father and I. It’s a portion of love.”
“The toilet is on the second floor on the right, just behind our pet rat's cage,” the singer tells his audience, who sit on Marketplace stools and homemade bistro tables.
Since the artist's friend is the only waitress that evening, I help her (while reporting) and the actors take care of distributing and clearing the trays themselves.
Two spectators are sitting on the stairs. All tickets were already sold and were added at the last minute with the artist's permission.
“It doesn't look like an indoor concert, but it reminds me of certain small Spanish bars in Madrid,” says Marie-Eve Boivin.
When all the tickets were sold, Marie-Eve Rosa and Marie-Eve Boivin from Saint-Sauveur came over and sat on the stairs. “Photo Louis-Philippe Messier”
“I organized these evenings out of necessity, but I got a taste for it!” confides Marco Calliari.
Apparently his audience also likes this mini house show formula.
“That’s why I came here from Saguenay!” Valérie Dufour told me.
I also talk to an amateur who comes from Gaspé.
Two of the three upcoming Saturday concerts at Calliari are already sold out.
The “room” seen from the small stage. “Photo Louis-Philippe Messier”
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