Yann Tiersen has recorded three soundtracks and six studio albums. On stage, he dresses like he’s auditioning for a slot in the Seattle grunge scene, and shreds on the violin as though he long since bested the devil down in Georgia—all whist projecting the carefree, slacker attitude that this all (all being, but not limited to: a sold out venue, U.S., tour, excellent hair) “just happened.” In short—he’s a rock star.

Introduced by comedian Zach Galifanakis—who opened the show by road testing some hilariously, awkward new jokes—Andrew Bird took the stage at the Largo on Sunday night, hair, and scarf flying.

As opening comedian Tig Notaro helpfully pointed out, the crowd gathered poolside at the Hollywood’s SkyBar at the Mondrian Hotel wasn’t comprised of their average weekend clientele. “This is where we all go to meet our friends on Saturday night, right?” she asked, gesturing the bevy of fish-out-of-water hipsters. Chalk it up to the powers of Jens Lekman—his fans will follow him anywhere, even into the steamy under-belly of Los Angeles posh nightlife.

If Robert Pollard is anything, he’s prolific. He’s released several discs of music each year for the past two decades under at least a dozen names, founded a handful of record labels, published one literary magazine, a book of collage work and a couple spoken word albums, and written more than a thousand songs during his career.

If anyone doubted the popular importance of the recent Guided By Voices reunion, he or she would only have had to witness the line around the block in front of Philadelphia’s Trocadero Theater on November 6 an hour prior to showtime.

Someone needs to cast of Montreal bandleader Kevin Barnes in a revival of Rocky Horror Picture Show revue. After 12 years of gender bending, Technicolor, costumed pop, this seems like the only logical career arc. It probably goes without saying that seeing of Montreal live in concert is a damn good time.

Jónsi is an extraordinary performer. A rare musician who not only plays his songs but also lives them out note for note on stage, seeing him live is an incredibly captivating experience—even when he’s standing still, eyes clenched shut, guitar in hand. And if this sounds like the bias ranting of an uber fan…well, it is.

The show clocked in a scant 45 minutes, but anyone present at Neon Indian’s Henry Fonda gig on Friday night would be the first to admit that the band had rightfully chosen quality over quantity.

Divan Orange is the site of Pop Montreal’s afternoon shows, but in my now-daily three-step process (recover, report, refuel), I missed No Joy, aka Laura Lloyd and Jasamine White-Gluz. Formerly of Bad Flirt (White-Gluz’s longtime labour of love, which expanded from a solo project to a rock quintet that released a pretty hot LP in ’08), the ladies have whole-heartedly joined the shoegazing revival, submerging their pop tunes and black-angel vocals in dense, creaky noise.