Said the Guests: Will Robinson Sheff
Please note: MP3s are only kept online for a short time, and if this entry is from more than a couple of weeks ago, the music probably won't be available to download any more.


[It fills me (Sean) with pride to welcome Will [Robinson] Sheff to Said the Gramophone. Will is my favourite songwriter on the planet. He leads Okkervil River and stands side-by-side with Jonathan Meiburg in Shearwater. He swims in brown rivers and watches forests burn, he nurses birds and takes lovers to the mountains. Both of these bands are very dear to this blog. Okkervil River's newest LP, Black Sheep Boy, is one of the very finest records of the year, glimmering and flashing, fiercely moving. (I most recently wrote about it here.)

But today Will is here, and he's telling us about Tim Hardin. Please make him feel welcome.]

Tim Hardin - "Eulogy to Lenny Bruce"

Because Black Sheep Boy, the most recent record by my band, is written around a Tim Hardin song and occasionally very lightly references Hardin's life, I've been asked many times this year to hold forth on the topic of Tim Hardin. Journalists ask me to expound on the connection between our record and Hardin, to explain what specifically about Hardin and his music inspired us on to base a record on one of his songs. They want to know: is Black Sheep Boy based on Hardin's biography? Is it based on my own biography? These are all annoyingly difficult questions to answer because I'm not sure there are very simple reasons or even that there's a very close connection. Interested fans, on the other hand, merely want to know what Tim Hardin records to buy. This is a much easier question, so I'll answer it first:

Buy Tim Hardin 1 or Tim Hardin 2. They're available individually on vinyl and together on the CD Tim Hardin 1 + 2, distributed by the Repertoire label and available in the United States as an import. From Polygram you can also buy a decent and very affordably-priced no-frills CD entitled Reason To Believe (The Best Of), assembled almost entirely from Hardin's first two records. Both of these collections contain little-known Hardin gems alongside Hardin's original versions of songs that other artists covered and made famous.

These famous songs were my first exposure to Tim Hardin, and I knew them long before I knew his name. I knew them as sung by artists whom I mostly scoffed at, like Bobby Darin, with his hit versions of "If I Were a Carpenter" and "Lady Came from Baltimore," or the insufferable Rod Stewart crooning "Reason to Believe." When I heard Hardin's original versions, though, I found that they were nothing like those covers. Their arrangements were largely acoustic and elegantly simple, mixing the earnest earthiness of singer-songwriter folk with the sophistication of Cool Jazz artists like Chet Baker. And Hardin's voice - though possessed of a tremolo quality that's very different than what's in style today - was startlingly intimate, emotional, and direct. Hardin's music transported me to the same tender, warm little world that I associate with artists like Nick Drake and Van Morrison, and I realized that both of these artists were probably in fact deeply influenced by Hardin and his then-famous, jewel-like little songs. (These days, Van Morrison is a legendary figure and Nick Drake has achieved a posthumous fame as perhaps the definitive treasured cult songwriter, but Tim Hardin's revival has been slow in coming.)

As I listened to Hardin's first two records over and over again, I also started having that weird proprietary feeling that I get towards Drake and Morrison: no matter how famous their music is, I have this odd and comforting sense that each time I cue up the record they're singing just for me. I became obsessed with Hardin's songs on Tim 1 and Tim 2, with the economy of their language, their swooping, lyrical string arrangements, the halting rhythms of Hardin's acoustic guitar playing. At first my favorite Tim Hardin song was "It'll Never Happen Again," then it was "Don't Make Promises," then it was "Misty Roses," but before long I became especially obsessed with the song "Black Sheep Boy," with its mysterious lyrics and darkly confident theme, which, as far as I could figure out, could be summed up thusly: "I know I'm fucking up - leave me alone."

One night on one stop along a particularly draining solo tour, I spent the night on the floor of Chris Swanson, co-owner of our record label Jagjaguwar. Before going to bed, I scanned briefly through Chris's CD collection - spanning floor-to-ceiling the entire wall next to my sleeping bag - and I came across a Tim Hardin box set. I already loved Hardin's music but I didn't know much about his life, so I started flipping through the liner notes for the box set and I learned that Hardin had written "Black Sheep Boy" while visiting his family back in his hometown of Eugene, OR. During the visit, an old friend offered heroin to Hardin, an ex-junkie who had been clean for several years. Hardin started using again and, as I understand it, didn't really stop until 1980, when he died of an overdose.


In 2003, I was trying to make my rent working as a video store clerk here in Austin, TX. Our store was located right next door to a porn shop and the guy who night-managed the porn shop was really friendly. He'd spent a lot of time as a touring musician and a session guy, doing everything from big arena tours in the 80's to European specialty gigs with lesser-known footnotes of 1960's surf rock, and, it turned out, he'd done some session work backing Tim Hardin near the very, very end of Hardin's life. Thrilled that I'd met someone who'd met Tim Hardin, and wanting information that might eventually help with Black Sheep Boy, I pumped him for information about what Hardin's personality was like during the sessions. He answered, "I couldn't even tell you. He was just really gone."


Tim Hardin - "Lady Came from Baltimore"

Tim Hardin - "Red Balloon"

The song "Black Sheep Boy" appeared on 1967's Tim Hardin 2. It was the third track, and immediately after it was "Lady Came from Baltimore" a love song to Hardin's new wife Susan Morss - referred to as "Susan Moore" in the lyrics - and one of the simplest, purest, and most affecting love songs you'll ever hear. Immediately before "Black Sheep Boy," though, came Hardin's "Red Balloon," which could also be described as a love song - but in "Red Balloon," the object of Hardin's affection wasn't Susan Morss, but heroin:

Bought myself a red balloon and got a blue surprise -
hidden in the red balloon, the pinning of my eyes.
You took the love light from my eyes. Blue, blue surprise.
We met as friends and you were so easy to get to know,
but will we see each other again? Oh... I hope so.
The sleeve for Tim Hardin 2 features my favorite picture of Hardin, seen through the window of his house, with Susan Morss standing to his right. Morss is pregnant with her and Hardin's first and only child, Tim Damion Hardin. Tucked inside their cozy little house in Woodstock, NY, Morss and Hardin look so wholesome and so happy.

After Tim Hardin 2, both the quality and the quantity of Hardin's songwriting began dropping off noticeably as his inspiration reportedly just dried up. Tim Hardin 3 was a sloppy but fiery live album; after Tim 4 Hardin took a two year absence and then began work on a home-recorded concept record. Entitled Suite for Susan Moore and Damion - We Are - One. One, All In One, this very ambitious record was supposed to be Hardin's testament of his enduring love for his wife and son, a sort of album-length sequel to "Lady Came from Baltimore." However, Hardin's escalating drug use and increasingly unstable mental state caused Morss to leave him in the middle of recording, taking Damion with her to L.A.

Suite for Susan Moore and Damion - We Are - One. One, All In One is an unbearably sad record, and its sadness comes not from contemplation or from clear-eyed and hard-won wisdom but from how empty Hardin's pronouncements on romantic commitment and fatherly love ring. There's a sense of despair to the album, but deeper than that there's a sense of confusion, of disconnectedness, not just of Hardin from his message but of Hardin from his muse, and maybe from himself. It's one of the most enervating records I've ever heard, full of directionless melodies, words that seem vulnerable and sincere but that barely add up to anything, clumsy and vapid noodling, songs that strain to mean everything and mean less than nothing. Here and there, though, Hardin stumbles onto lyrics as great as in his heyday, as in "Magician," when the clouds seem to part and Hardin presents the listener with what's probably a warped self-portrait, keening:

You should see the troubles that he goes through
to free his house from sin.
Magic wands and weapons together in a room...


Maybe the best answer I could give to the question of why I decided to make a record somewhat inspired by Tim Hardin is that, if I hadn't done it, I wouldn't have had the amazing opportunity to meet Tim Damion Hardin, Hardin's only child.

A few months after Black Sheep Boy came out, I was stunned to receive an e-mail from Hardin's son; he had heard through the grapevine about our album and he'd ordered it off the internet. Then he'd looked up our website and found a contact address. He and I e-mailed back and forth a little bit; he seemed really excited that there were younger musicians out there making music that referenced his father. When he saw that our next tour would take us through Florida - where he currently lives and works as a painter - we agreed to meet in Orlando. I put him on the guest list and, shortly before we sound-checked, this stout and friendly-looking and soulful man in a florid green shirt walked up and introduced himself to me.

I was startled at the ways in which Damion Hardin resembled (particularly around the eyes and nose) the pictures I'd seen of his father, and I was shocked to realize that - for as much as Hardin's music had naively convinced me that in some way I knew him - in the heat of my fandom and my abstract appreciation of Tim Hardin's story I really hadn't seriously considered Tim Hardin as a real human being. Now I was faced with evidence of Hardin in the person of a man who not only resembled him but who had loved him and struggled with his legacy as a human and as an artist in ways far more serious and meaningful than I had.

It wasn't too long into our conversation that Damion and I discovered that we'd spent a significant portion of our lives living only a handful of miles away from each other. Susan Morss was from Vermont, and after she'd permanently separated from Tim Hardin she moved back up to the Northeast with Damion, and he enrolled in high school in Hanover, N.H. My father was an administrator at Hanover's Dartmouth College and my family lived two towns over - about a 20 minute drive away - in Meriden, N.H. Hanover was my favorite haunt; the only town nearby with a cool video store, a real coffeeshop with crappy art on the walls, a theater that would occasionally show foreign films. I had friends who went to Hanover High. During a sizable period of my life, as it happens, Tim Hardin's son lived a short jaunt down the road from me.

On the subject of his father, Damion Hardin speaks with the kind of wisdom that betrays an entire life in the cool long shadow of those classic songs, haunted by ghastly stories of his father's heroin abuse, stung by harsh judgments on Hardin's later work - like my verdict on Suite for Susan Moore and Damion... - filled with a kind of bitter disappointment in Hardin's failings as a father that I could only imagine, warmed by stray memories of Hardin's kindness and love that I could never be privy to, possessed of an understanding of Hardin's drug addiction that comes from years of battling serious drug problems himself (he's now been successfully clean and sober for eight years).

As it happens, my parents are friends with the daughter of one of Damion Hardin's high school teachers, something they only realized after we'd released Black Sheep Boy. When my mother told her their friend that I'd met Damion Hardin, she expressed her surprise and added "Well, I'm glad to hear that he's still alive."


I found that Damion retained a sense of humor about his father. When I mentioned that Hardin didn't seem all that sober in his sequences in the Woodstock documentary, his son looked at me and said, "ya think?" Before long, though, the jokes got grimmer and Damion confided that his mother had told him stories about when Hardin and Lenny Bruce roomed together that were too disturbing to repeat. "Drugs ruined him," he added, matter-of-factly.

It's true; we too often associate drugs and heavy drinking with wild creativity, but in the case of Tim Hardin - and in many more cases than I think people realize - all of his great work was done in spite of drugs, not because of them. Drugs ruined Tim Hardin as an artist, and in many respects they ruined him as a human being. Still, as he makes clear in "Black Sheep Boy" and, as I guess is part of the point of our little record of the same name, that was his choice.

Which brings me to (finally!) talking about the mp3 I've selected for Said the Gramophone - it's a little bit of a lesser-known Hardin track that only appears on that live album, Tim Hardin 3: Live in Concert and it's called "Eulogy to Lenny Bruce," or "Lenny's Song." It's one of Hardin's longest and loosest songs of the period - stretching to six minutes where most of Hardin's songs barely exceeded two, and rambling and sloppy where most of Hardin's songs were tight and concise - but, unlike Suite for Susan Moore and Damion, every second of it throbs with vitality. Driven by a dirgey waltzing piano, the song circles and circles around itself, sounding like, with every go-round, it's drilling deeper into, and cracking through, a new layer of Hell. Hardin repeats in constantly more anguished tones his tribute to his beloved drug buddy, alternating direct language like

I have lost a friend and I don't know why,
but never again will get we get together to die.
Why, after every last shot, was there always another?...
You kid, those teardrops glisten - I know it's hard to listen.
with more Dylan-influenced lines like "and Honey Harlow, gypsy burlesque queen / how did she know you needed morphine?" The song pounds and pounds at you and spins around itself interminably, a funeral march soaked though and dripping with pain and sympathy. Maybe too much sympathy. Definitely too much.

Of course Hardin sees himself in Bruce, but he's not strong enough to recoil, to keep there from being - after every last shot - always another. Through the song, he seems to reach out to the fallen Bruce with the understanding and the indulgence of someone who's falling faster and faster himself. Appropriately, even this relatively rare song of Hardin's has been covered by another artist - Nico, who obviously saw herself in Hardin seeing Bruce, and who felt, maybe for both men, all the frozen tenderness that someone unable to repent themselves can feel.

Damion Hardin told me that, once, when he was rebelling from Susan Morss and had taken a trip to visit his father on the West Coast, Nico dropped in one day for a recording session. I asked him about Nico, what she was like. He answered, "I couldn't even tell you. All I remember was her arm."

[Will Sheff is the lead singer and songwriter for Okkervil River - whose newest album Black Sheep Boy came out this year - and a contributor to the band Shearwater. Sheff's freelance arts criticism has been published in Pop Culture Press and The Austin Chronicle; a sampling of Sheff's writing for the latter publication can be found at here.]


(buy Tim Hardin stuff at Amazon/Insound/GEMM)

(buy Okkervil River music direct from Jagjaguwar, and Shearwater CDs from Misra)

Posted by Will Robinson Sheff at August 24, 2005 11:42 AM

or buy it here, too, if you're looking for lewis & clark (and were big Hardin fans too)

Posted by walter pillman at August 24, 2005 11:51 AM

bravo Will.

as a huge Hardin fan I was so thrilled to see (and hear) another artist (you) i respect taking inspiration from the songs i have long loved. i really appreciate this opportunity to peek into your thoughts about the man. Sadly, his death became even more of a historical footnote that it was destined to be, due to the fact that he died right around the time John Lennon was murdered. Concentrated artistic loss: 1980.

Posted by brian michael roff at August 24, 2005 12:52 PM


I'd been wondering about Hardin's work ever since you mentioned him at a show before Black Sheep Boy came out. Unfortunately, I never got around to doing my own research on the topic, or asking you directly. This is a lovely piece, and I'm glad you shared your appreciation of Hardin's music with us. Thanks, too, for posting the mp3s -- I'm totally hooked.


Posted by michaela at August 24, 2005 2:45 PM

Interesting. Didn't actually know Tim Hardin until I heard "Lady Came From Baltimore" on Hatch at WFMU last week. I was quite in awe of that song. Before that I only knew him from name. I couldn't find the album (Tim Hardin 2) in the shops here in the Netherlands, but now I see why. :)

Thanks for the interesting read. My interest in Tim Hardin is even more sparkled now!


Posted by Bubbachups at August 24, 2005 5:52 PM

This is a very well written piece and I find the whole stroy to be beyond intersting. I'd never even heard of this man before but now am very looking forward to discovering his music. Thank you kindly.

Posted by Jerimee at August 24, 2005 6:56 PM

It's sad and beautiful music. Sad and beautiful words. A sad and beautiful world. Something like that.

Very well done.

Posted by Tuwa at August 24, 2005 7:30 PM

I had to read the entire article; then I had to listen to the mp3s; then I had to think about Hardin's life and his family. Thank you Will for making me do these things.

Posted by gerry at August 24, 2005 10:42 PM

A couple of years back a friend of mine gave me an mp3 of "How can we hang on to a dream" that she listened to obsessively after breaking up with her boyfriend, and I was equally posessed by the song.

I later downloaded a few more random songs but wasn't impressed... now I see I gave up to easily. Thank you.

Posted by henrik at August 25, 2005 3:53 AM

Great post, Will. I saw Hardin in '77, in a small town hall in the north of England, and he was in great form - acerbic wit, all the songs you'd want and more, but a few people walked out because he wasn't the MOR songwriter they were expecting. I was so impressed I wrote my first published gig review. This year, I found a side of Hardin I never knew, an improvisation he did in the same period, with my then favourite band, Can. It's good - pretty weird combination though. Didn't lead anywhere. Have you heard 'The Homecoming Concert'?

Posted by dymbel at August 25, 2005 4:49 AM

Good to see more recognition for Hardin. I've only run across a few CDs, but he always manages to amaze in the most unassuming of ways. I'm glad to finally run across this song, too. In addition to Nico, Damon & Naomi covered "Bruce" on their album with Ghost. While I'm not a huge fan of that album, they do the song justice (though some lyrics get lost in the rather airy vocal performance). Anyone looking for another Hardin sampler would do well to pick up Reason To Believe, put out by the Australian label Raven. I found a used copy at a store, and I've seen this go rather cheaply on the net as well. There is a fair share of latter-period bloat on it, but the CD is sequenced chronologically, so it's easy to miss, but there are few gems within, notably a smoking live version of "Smugglin' Man." That song's sense of humor nicely leavens material like "Reason To Believe," which is so much more affecting than the Rod Stewart version that it's hard to believe they're the same song. "Knowing that you lied straight-faced while I cried / Still I look to find a reason to believe" should be on somebody's tombstone (maybe mine). To round off my thoughts on Hardin, I would really like to see somebody release his demos. The few that are contained on Simple Songs of Freedom (a domestic comp) translate well to today's indie scene of relaxed standards (I'm thinking in regards to recording fidelity and flubbed notes, not songwriting ability -- Hardin towers over most). Listen to the demos of "Turn the Page," "Shiloh Town," and "If I Knew" and see if you don't agree with me. As far as I know this is the only place to get them, but I haven't heard of the boxset mentioned above, so obviously I have some investigation of my own to do...

Posted by Todd at August 25, 2005 9:40 AM

Sean, Amazing choice of guest! Will, You got me interested in Hardin back in the spring when I first heard Black Sheep Boy, so thanks. Yours is one of my favorite records of the year (a review of it was actually the first post on my blog) and I thought you guys put on a fantastic show when you played Schubas (Chicago) in May. And damn, you're a good writer--your Stan Brakhage piece gets it exactly right. I'm not gushing, am I?

Posted by Amy at August 25, 2005 2:11 PM

Absolutely fascinating, and beautifully written! I've known the music since it was first released, but I never knew the stories in back of it. Thank you for telling them.

Posted by BCarter at August 25, 2005 7:25 PM

As it happens, I was introduced to Tim Hardin's work by a friend maybe 2 weeks before reading this. This is greatly written and it helps me a lot to understand this music ...

Posted by Garrincha at August 26, 2005 3:46 AM

I had never heard Tim Hardin before today. 'tis good stuff. Will, I think your album really does his memory justice. I think he'd dig it.

Posted by caley at August 26, 2005 3:06 PM

Amazing portrayal of the Sylvia Plath-esque emptiness and misdirected emotions of this music. Beautifully written.

I find it interesting that you mention a Bob Dylan connection in poetry of lyrics, as I see one in the following quote:
"There's a sense of despair to the album, but deeper than that there's a sense of confusion, of disconnectedness, not just of Hardin from his message but of Hardin from his muse, and maybe from himself."
I once read the following Dylan quote in an issue of Rolling Stone:
"It's easier to be disconnected than connected. I've got a huge hallelujah for all the people who're connected, that's great, but I can't do that."

Your Fellow Austin-ite

Posted by elfie at August 26, 2005 7:35 PM

before march, 2005 i knew nothing of okkervil river. it was a cold day and having stepped off the plane from alaska i found myself drinking and listening to archer prewitt and clem snide at schubas (chicago). during the interval i befriended a young fellow and we excitedly shared our passion for music by exchanging a list of 'must purchase' records by obscure named bands - on the list he scribbled were the words 'okkervil river'. will, i'd like to thank you for providing me more insight into or, and look forward to your london show. and sean, is there anyone you do not know;) best wishes, nat

Posted by nat at August 30, 2005 6:08 AM

Don't let the fact that Rod Stewart is a jackass now ruin his early work. He recorded "Reason to Believe" back when he apparently gave some kind of shit, and it's too soulful to be dismissed so casually. Greil Marcus wrote the line "rarely has anyone betrayed his talent so completely" about Stewart precisely because he was once capable of producing songs like that "Reason to Believe" cover.

Posted by Anonymous at September 2, 2005 2:24 AM

Tragedy and reward. All in circles. Seems that that's the music behind a parade of rough and tumble creative minds. My favorite line, Will, in the piece above, is the one that notes brilliant art often gets conceived in spite of drugs, rather than thanks to 'em. Can be a tough pill to swallow at three in the morning, poised on the edge of 'the perfect stanza', and wobbling ignobly over the side. Thanks.
See you on Nov 7th at Lee's. Huzzah.

Posted by quinn at September 27, 2005 10:17 PM

Thanks Will (and Sean) for this. Very fitting tribute/introduction to Tim Hardin. I largely agree with your assesment, the catalog of great songs on those 2 first albums is amazing, but I have to say that the later stuff is really worth hearing. In fact MY favorite single original release is _Bird on a Wire_ which came next after the _Suite for Susan..._ record. On this one, besides the title song (Leonard Cohen cover), covers of "Hoboin'" and "Satisfied Mind" and as exquisite version of "Georgia On My Mind", one finds a few fine Hardin originals like "Moonshiner" and "Southern Butterfly". But this record is really about his incredible VOICE, so deeply soulful and jazz-leaning, and the very cool arrangements/perormances by the odd collection of woodstock residents and Weather Report members... Then, ebven the next couple of records (recorded in England) are well worth hearing for a song or three and an arresting performance or two.

Posted by Rick Brown at September 28, 2005 2:52 PM

Nice to see so many Tim Hardin fans here. I would like to invite you all at:

a friendly discussion group, that started about 3 weeks ago. Lyrics, bootlegs artwork, bootleg mp3, it's all available there.
Adrie Meijer, moderator

Posted by Adrie Meijer at October 12, 2005 3:29 PM

Thanks, Will, for this excellent piece on Hardin & also on Damion. Would you object if, at the next re-write, I add some of the information you have given into the biography section of my website on Tim? The website is at and also include stuff on Richie Havens, Tim Rose & David Ackles. In the Top Ten listing (which was written several years ago) you'll be happy to note that Lenny's Song is featured - it may be less well known, but it was one of his best.

Posted by Brian Mathieson at October 30, 2005 5:00 AM

Really enjoyed reading your piece about Tim Hardin. It's funny, someone gave me a Tim Hardin album back around 1972/3 and I loved it but it was stolen in 1990. Lately I have been hankering after listening to him again and last week bought a double CD on Ebay - some of his songs are just wonderful - like you say, they are so immediate and haven't dated at all. I didn't even know he was dead, to be honest - I looked up your site to try and find out. Thanks.

Posted by Wendy Barton at November 11, 2005 5:24 AM

how can i make cookie doe so great and tasty. cause everytime i do chocolat chip cookie's it's chunky and want them tell how to make 'em so thing.

thank you.

Posted by alia at November 17, 2005 6:29 PM

Really cool. Thanks so much for the insightful, sensitive perspective.

Posted by Patrick at December 8, 2005 2:46 AM

I want to publicly thank Will for Being so thoughtful about dad, I did want to correct one thing for the record...I was about 12 or 13 when I saw that arm on who I believe was Nico ( someone said to me,"that was Nico"...hadnt rebelled yet...I wish I had been given the chance to travel under my own to find dad.
it was great meeting you,best of luck in the future. Damion

Posted by Damion at January 18, 2006 10:41 PM

i dey oooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Posted by agu at June 15, 2006 6:38 AM

I was a fan of Tim Hardin's back in '78 and ended up living in the tiny town when Susan and Damion moved to Vermont. Susan's sisters were friends of mine, and everyone knew her parents. I taught in that town and then in Hanover at the middle school and then the college.

Your writing brought back so many lovely and sad memories. I recall Damion announcing that his father was dead as Susan answered the phone call with that very message. I,too, am glad that Damion is still alive (as of 2005). I hope he, his mom and his two aunts are, too. They were dear folks.

Posted by Susan at August 10, 2010 9:53 PM

I once met Tim Hardin in San Francisco around 1971-72. He came into Jeans West with his guitar in its case, which looked very expensive in contrast to the somewhat shabby-appearing man himself. He had been my favorite musician since 1968. I remember being somewhat shocked by the realization that my all-time-fave musician actually wore jeans that were the same waist size as length. I had pictured him younger, slimmer, and far more affluent-looking.

I still listen to Tim's songs frequently. I recently acquired a double CD set of many of his songs, including some live sessions.

I wish all happiness in life to his son. Tim's music is definitely a part of heaven, and I'm sure he is there too.

Posted by Cari at November 28, 2011 10:36 PM

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alati caserta
vices & versa
+ paltoquet, cocoa locale, idée fixe, patati patata, the sparrow, pho tay ho, qin hua dumplings, caffé italia, hung phat banh mi, caffé san simeon, meu-meu, pho lien, romodos, patisserie guillaume, patisserie rhubarbe, kazu, lallouz, maison du nord, cuisine szechuan &c

drawn + quarterly
+ bottines &c

casa + sala + the hotel
blue skies turn black
montreal improv theatre
passovah productions
le cagibi
cinema du parc
pop pmontreal
yoga teacher Thea Metcalfe

Cult Montreal
The Believer
The Morning News
The Skinny