Where I thought I was going…? Somewhere to listen to music on vinyl. Where I ended up? Somewhere that has become, hands down, one my favourite places in Montréal. And as one of their taglines reads — “Club Souper – Listening – Soirées Dansantes” — the Japanese cuisine of the supper club, the listening (to music on vinyl), and dancing into the night, I have enjoyed them all, at Sans Soleil.
It started with a post that appeared in my social media feed in April 2022. It was a Saturday night, within a few months of my move (back) to Montréal, so I was still in the early days of reconnaissance. I had long trusted the MIMS crew, though, to guide my exploration of music, so I followed their lead and went to Chinatown in search of what would be described, about a year after they opened, as a “candlelit speakeasy” on Canada’s 100 Best bars list.
There is something about Sans Soleil that is greater than the sum of its parts. What is on the menu: always very good. The music (on vinyl): solid. The sound system: noteworthy, for sure. The small, underground space: intimate and well done. The team and the DJs working the room and setting the mood: welcoming, interesting, unpretentious, on top of things. They know what they’re doing. Those are the parts.
And the sum of the parts? Hmm … well, maybe it’s best for me to describe what my nights have been like there, in the year or so that I’ve been frequenting Sans Soleil …
I book a dinner reservation around 7:30 pm, sit at the bar, order the tataki or the duck, a vegetable dish, some wine, visit a little with the bartenders, if they have time. At 8:00 pm, the DJ starts and at that (early) hour, the vinyl selected can lean toward the more eclectic and genre-bending (excellent). At 10:00 pm, the small dining tables are carried away and the music begins to pull people (me included) onto the dance floor. Around 11:00 pm, as the soirée dansante takes over, I order a glass of sake (on ice, for sipping). An hour or so later, something in the tempo of the night (or maybe it’s my circadian rhythm) signals to me that it’s time to take myself and my dancing shoes up the stairs, past the line that has formed outside, to call it a night — always a good night — with a thank you to those making Sans Soleil all that it is … the impossible-to-describe sum of its parts.
a few words ... from Montréal 