On September 8, hours after the longest-reigning British monarch died, English post-punk band IDLES took the stage at one of Toronto’s new venues, History. With no mention of the land, IDLES opened with the single Colossus, off their 2018 album Joy as an Act of Resistance, slowly earning the crowd’s trust and bringing audience members into a deep seance of sound. The venue was sold out at a capacity of 2,500. Five thousand footprints were standing upon the unceded land of the Mississaugas of the Credit, the Anishnabeg, the Chippewa, the Haudenosaunee and the Wendat peoples in the worship of this band and its British leader.
“I think that if I were to come to your house, I owe you a certain degree of respect,” said Niagara Regional Native Centre executive director Karl Dockstader, of the Oneida Bear Clan. “When non-Indigenous artists are touring different communities in so-called Canada, visiting different Indigenous territories, the people who are hosting them in those territories, at least the basic respect of acknowledging that there’s a history. It’s a little bit longer than what’s written in any Canadian textbook.”
Earlier that day, at about 2 p.m., news of Queen Elizabeth II’s death travelled across the world. Her timely passing cast a long, dark shadow over Canada’s so-called sovereignty, making the concert more political than it already had the potential to be. Between songs, Talbot spoke of empathy and compassion while candidly touching on the monarch, privilege, and genocide. This fed his grasp on the crowd. Imagine being stabbed in the gut with post-punk vibes and quickly becoming a part of a ritualistic experience, something seemingly bigger than everyone.
Though it was exciting and visceral to be a part of raw emotions, something was missing. The land slid through the cracks, only to be left by the wayside. IDLES proudly rejects the punk label, and Talbot confidently shared his views on how “this country was built on immigrants,” a bold statement presented on Turtle Island during the month of Truth and Reconciliation. An exchange of power with a crowd member later proved this an appropriate time to recognize privilege.
Halfway through the show, a crowd member, atop the shoulders of another, called out for Talbot’s attention. Talbot held the microphone in a position of power before ceding this inherent authority by handing it over to the crowd member. The unknown person acknowledged the traditional territory on which the show took place, and Talbot’s act released any false superiority, offering equilibrium.
“I think anybody who gets to do art for a living in any way – Indigenous, Black, Two-Spirit people, non-binary gender people – I think just making art and getting paid is a privilege,” Dockstader said. “In order for that privilege to exist, I think there has to be some recognition that the artists who are able to do that are fortunate. That’s where I think we get into splitting hairs about, for lack of a better term, where that ‘fortune’ came in. I’d say it’s derived from the exploitation of Indigenous peoples in our territories, but also a lot globally, as well.”
The intersectionality of the performing arts and creators both living on and touring on Turtle Island raises questions of positionality in relation to land acknowledgments. In theatre work, a land acknowledgment is standard practice. Work ranging from black box spaces at Fringe festivals to larger, more commercially powerful theatres, have land acknowledgments embedded in their framework. It’s important to investigate why land acknowledgements happen in theatre but are less common in other sectors of the performing arts such as music. Should land acknowledgments branch out into bigger, more mainstream settings like rock concerts? It is nearly impossible to fill a theatre with 2,500 people, yet IDLES and most concerts have no trouble doing so.
Lara Lewis, a queer mixed Mi’kmaw theatre artist from Kjipuktuk (Halifax) who primarily works as an actor and dramaturge said: “That’s such a good idea. It could be incredible because nobody goes to theatre, but so many people go to concerts all the time. I think that exposure to ideas like land acknowledgments can be useful in beginning conversations. I’m a theatre artist, not a musician, and I’ve done very little touring, but when I have, a big part of preparing for that has been understanding whose land we’re being guests on and whom we’re visiting.”
Privilege, power and post punk music
Is it possible IDLES and Talbot have this curiosity but sometimes forget their position in the greater colonial framework? Does it matter that his ethnicity – whiteness – and British citizenship would prevail in this context on the day some peoples’ grandmother died? Or is IDLES’ skillful musicianship and intensely original whirlpool of rock destined to trump such notions?
To both Lewis and Dockstader, it’s a question of positionality.
“I think it’s contextual to who is doing it—who it has to do with, (and) your positionality in the greater colonial structure,” said Lewis. “A land acknowledgement is beyond a land acknowledgement; it’s an acknowledgement of colonial structure—and the colonial history and the injustice of that.”
Dockstader added: “I appreciate the role of the monarch in Canada, but I don’t really understand how it works. So I tried to be careful about what I say about it because I don’t want to be disrespectful; I could think I was honouring the crown and then say some pretty ignorant things and make it worse. So it’s kind of the same thing with land acknowledgments—but also with the caveat that people are historically bad at talking about Indigenous people generally anyways, huh?”
Despite excellent musicianship and skillful riffs, it’s clear Talbot can afford to take a closer look at the land upon which he stood. When travelling artists are more curious about the land, everyone benefits. Something powerful occurred as Talbot vulnerably passed the mic to the unknown show-goer in a joyful act of non-resistance.
As soon as people heard, “We live on the traditional territory of …” the crowd screamed with joy – cheers of hope – and more bodies simultaneously jumped up and down. It was a massive uproar of chanting and praising, demonstrating IDLES’ commentary between songs was less significant than being a person living on Turtle Island and reflecting upon its complicated history. As the concert came to a close, reclamations of power both inside Talbot’s typically tasteful aggression towards the queen, and a celebratory acceptance of place spread across and united the crowd.
This makes for a glimmer of hope and positive progressive change as Turtle Island embarks upon Truth and Reconciliation Day.
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