In Montréal, June rhymes with music, and Francos de Montréal are the perfect proof. Once again this year, the festival celebrated the full richness of the French language in its most lively, vibrant, and above all, varied forms. While French served as a common thread, every artist inhabited it in their own unique way – with their accent, life experience, expressions, imagery and struggles. Between urban poetry, edgy rock and hybrid Creole, Francos 2025 showed that French has never been so expansive – or popular.
What Francos 2025 proved is that the French language is no fixed monument. It’s alive, inventive, plural. It can be slammed by a poet from Saint-Denis, chanted by an afro-futurist rapper, whispered by an indie band, or hammered out in Montréal neighbourhood slang. From Congolese expressions to Québec regionalisms, from playful anglicisms to Creole nods, the French language danced in every form this year. It was « full bon »!
Theodora: Fire In Her Words
Just a year ago, it felt like few in Québec knew her name. Today, Theodora is everywhere. Discovered in France, the rapper and singer confirmed her meteoric rise on Montréal’s stages. On Wednesday night (June 18) at 9 PM, she sold out The SAT touring behind Bad Boy Lovestory, a critically acclaimed project blending intimate confessions with bold statements of identity.
True to her style, she surprised the audience by announcing a free outdoor concert the following Saturday. The result: a tight, electric crowd and a deeply charged performance.
Theodora Frédérique Aubin-Ménard
Her success owes as much to her stage magnetism as to the viral resonance of her tracks. In just months, Theodora went from an underground artist to a transatlantic phenomenon. Her single “Kongolese Sous BBL,” certified gold in France, became a generational anthem – a sonic punch for those who see themselves reflected in a music that crosses cultures and styles. Albums like “Lili aux Paradis Artificiels” and “Bad Boy Lovestory” hit like fiercely feminist manifestos.
What fascinates is her effortless shifts – from electric rock to visceral trap, zouk to drum and bass – without ever losing her cultural roots. Joined by her brother and producer Jeez Suave, she delivers a sharp flow peppered with Congolese slang, French verlan and Caribbean references. She tackles mental health, gender, love and anger – and it hits every time.
Grand Corps Malade: Words Own the Stage
Grand Corps Malade Benoît Rousseau
On Friday night (June 20) at 9 PM, Place des Festivals fell silent to listen. Grand Corps Malade, with his deep voice and gentle gaze, took over the main stage. With polished lighting and a full orchestra, the setting was grand, but the emotion stayed intimately human.
From “J’ai vu la lumière” to “Mesdames,” and the duet with Camille Lellouche on “Mais je t’aime,” every word landed precisely. He spoke of his children, of French singer-songwriter Aznavour, of Montréal – and everyone felt at home. His French is clear and classic, never dusty. He played with rhythms, silences, double meanings. It was very touching.
Corridor: Speak Little, Play Loud
Corridor Frédérique Ménard-Aubin
Friday (June 20), the SiriusXM stage was wrapped in a quiet tension. Corridor took the stage, barely saying hello. A few words about the weather, modest thanks, then silence – and music.
Their angular, almost mathematical rock becomes organic live. Tracks from Mimi thicken and soar. “Caméra” turns incantatory, “Jump Cut” bounces through silences like an unfinished conversation.
They don’t seek to charm, but to envelop. Their French is minimalist, their glances evasive, but everything passes through textures, riffs, breaks.
Shreez: Neighbourhood Rap with a Knowing Smile
On Saturday June 21, Shreez stormed the Loto-Québec stage to close the 36th edition of the Francos. Microphone in hand, crew behind him, a smirk on his face, he brought everyone on stage – with all its local slang and raw energy.
Shreez Productions Novak
Hits like “On Frap,” “Pas d’time,” and “Money Call” rang out loud, making the crowd jump. But it was in the quieter interludes, when the beat slows and the words take centre stage, that his writing shined. Shreez knows how to tell a story. He also plays with his audience. His interjections (“yo, check ça!”) resonated with the Montréal crowd. His show was grounded, sincere, 100% local.
This article was first published in French. Read that version here.
