Vos Voisins - ST (re-issue)

Tracks

No Tracks

Photos

Videos

No Video

Information/Write-up

Vos Voisins emerged in Montréal at the dawn of the 1970s, born from the convergence of several key figures in Québec’s evolving rock, chanson, and countercultural scenes. Keyboardist and vocalist Jacques Perron and drummer Pierre Ringuet had already earned their reputations as part of Les Enzymes, the backing group for Louise Forestier, and as accompanists for the celebrated humorist Yvon Deschamps, both central to the post-Osstidcho movement that redefined Québec music. Their professional paths had first crossed during L’Auberge du chien noir, a travelling revue that toured Québec and even Labrador in 1969, bringing the Charlebois–Forestier–Deschamps creative circle to audiences far from Montréal.

In this climate, Perron and Ringuet began developing their own material, gradually recruiting guitarist Serge Vallières and bassist André Parenteau—musicians who, like them, had cut their teeth during the mid-’60s yé-yé and garage era in groups such as Les Chanceliers. Their renewed collaboration on Forestier’s 1970 album À compte d’opéra solidified their chemistry and laid the groundwork for the formation of Vos Voisins shortly thereafter. Their shared background as skilled studio and touring players gave the nascent group a professional edge. Alongside lyricist and actor Marcel Sabourin, the quartet found a distinct voice that blended progressive arrangements, biting social humour, and the rough energy of hard rock. The name Vos Voisins—“Your Neighbours”—was both ironic and familiar, a wink at the ordinary Québécois milieu they were about to provoke.

In 1971 they entered the studio and recorded what would become one of Québec’s most infamous albums. Released on Polydor under the title Holocauste à Montréal, the record’s cover imitated the lurid front page of the Montréal tabloid Allô Police, featuring mock mug shots of each band member and a headline screaming the album title. The satire was too pointed: Allô Police sued, and Polydor was forced to withdraw the LP almost immediately. A second edition soon appeared under a plain self-titled sleeve, but by then the controversy had eclipsed the music itself—ironically ensuring the first pressing’s legendary status among collectors. The album had originally been conceived for a performance at the Université du Québec, where Vos Voisins were slated to open for the Montréal supergroup Mashmakhan—a symbolic passing of the psychedelic torch between two generations of Québec rock.

Beneath the scandal lay an ambitious, well-crafted work that fused heavy organ-driven rock, melodic ballads, and slyly humorous lyrics. Perron’s keyboards dominate, moving fluidly from Hammond swells to early synthesizer textures, while Ringuet’s precise drumming anchors the dynamic shifts. The album opens with the gritty “Voisins (Mon Chum)” and moves through cinematic pieces like “L’Instrumental” and “Tania,” before reaching its apex with “Le Monstre de la Main” (“The Main Monster”), a six-minute opus that earned modest radio airplay and later cult acclaim across Montréal’s FM scene. Balancing biting satire with moments of lyrical introspection, the album juxtaposed absurdist humour (Le Monstre de la Main, La Machine à danser) with reflective ballads like Les Saisons and Sais-tu que je t’aime (the latter penned by Claude Lafrance). The combination of strong songwriting, theatrical flair, and exploratory musicianship places the album among the earliest francophone expressions of progressive rock in Canada.

Vos Voisins also served as Deschamps’s touring and recording band, performing material from his shows and contributing to albums such as On va s’en sortir and La sexualité, whose risqué anthem “Les Fesses” was later covered in France by Les Frères Jacques. Between engagements with Deschamps, the group recorded music for the films Le Martien de Noël and Les Smattes, further illustrating their versatility and deep integration into Québec’s creative circles.

By 1973, shifting opportunities and divergent paths brought Vos Voisins to an end. Vallières went on to join the influential Ville Émard Blues Band, while Perron, Ringuet, and Parenteau continued to collaborate intermittently within Montréal’s vibrant studio scene. Their sole LP—briefly banned, later forgotten, and finally rediscovered—endures as a striking document of early-’70s Montréal counterculture, when humour, politics, and progressive rock converged in bold defiance of convention. Holocauste à Montréal remains a rare and fascinating relic: a neighbourly rebellion immortalized on vinyl.
-Robert Williston

Comments