Rich Aucoin (Indie Awards, Fairmont Royal York, 10:25 p.m.): Even when he has nothing to celebrate, Rich Aucoin is like a kitteny-soft supernova radiating unabashed joy, love, and happiness. After learning that he’d been named the SiriusXM Emerging Artist of the Year at CMW’s Indie Awards—a prize that comes with a $10,000 paycheque—the Haligonian smile-pop dynamo was like a Tasmanian Devil of hyperpositivity. Clad in a rainbow-coloured tie-dye tank top and an invisible halo of good vibes, Aucoin dashed onstage to offer an intro to his pre-set slide show, a personalized production (as is his wont) that included a description of CMW as a “lightsabre” of “awesome” and a shout-out to numerous people onstage and in the crowd, from fellow performer Dan Mangan to hometown pal Tara Thorne, whom he touted as the best songwriter in Halifax. That was only the beginning: Aucoin’s joyous set of shimmery, gently psychedelic pop included crowd jumping, confetti showers, group hugs, a massive parachute being unfurled out over the crowd and a generalized feeling of psychic redemption. From the Carter Family to the Polyphonic Spree, many performers have attempted to harness the power of positive energy, but few practise what they preach with the earnest passion that ripples through every atom of Aucoin’s body. That he also managed to transform such a stiff event in such an un-rock ’n’ roll space into one of the festival’s most transcendent shows is a testament to the man’s unique gift.—Sarah Liss
Housse de Racket (Wrongbar, 11 p.m.): The list of international acts at CMF 2012 was by no means exhaustive (and that’s not really the point, is it?), but anyone searching for a potential breakout band hailing from somewhere other than our home and native land no doubt found what they were looking for Saturday night at Wrongbar—fresh off rave reviews at SXSW, the first Toronto gig by Parisian duo Housse de Racket was a synthy, dance-pop diamond in the rough. By the sound of their 2011 album Alesia, Housse de Racket are the latest practitioners of that familiarly buoyant French electro-pop style, which makes sense given that they cut their teeth as session musicians for Air and Phoenix. But, bathed in green and red light on the small Wrongbar stage, their live show hit a higher note of ferocity than Thomas Mars and co. are able to muster. Singer/guitarist Pierre Leroux worked his cream-coloured Telecaster to ultra guitar-hero level (at times playing both lead and rhythm guitar parts at once) over drummer Victor Le Masne’s relentless backbeat. Moving gracefully between impossibly bright synth tracks (the silky chorus of “Les Hommes et les Femmes”) and jagged, angular jams (recent single “Roman”), Housse de Racket proved their live show has been refined down to a science, meaning all that’s left to master is their elocution. “Hello To-ran-to!” Leroux called out between songs. “We can almost pronounce the name of your city.” Here’s hoping they return often enough to figure it out.—Rob Duffy
The Inbreds (Lee’s Palace, midnight): Before The White Stripes and Death From Above 1979 hit it big with the stripped down econo-duo idea, Halifax-via-Kingston’s The Inbreds conquered the mid-1990s Canadian alternative-rock scene with their earnest and melodic brand of indie-pop. Singer/bassist Mike O’Neill and drummer Dave Ullrich called it quits back in 1998—Ullrich went on to found the online record store/label Zunior and play in the band Egger while O’Neill embarked on a solo career and a minor role on The Trailer Park Boys—and their appearance at CMF marked the group’s first Toronto gig in seven years. Judging by the rapturous reception at an almost-packed Lee’s Palace, this city still has a lot of love to give the duo. Playing a brilliant array of golden oldies (“Prince,” which Ullrich says was recorded on a rented four-track for their first album) and more recent oldies (MuchMusic faves “Any Sense of Time” and “Atittude”), the band’s affable demeanor and endless supply of melodies make them a very easy crew to like. Though much of the sonic dynamic comes from in O’Neill’s stellar bass playing, and there isn’t a whole lot to watch on stage (O’Neill’s efforts at rock showmanship are hilariously thwarted by a pulled-out bass cable), they’re living proof that some reunions shows are totally worthwhile. (Side note: Can someone please book them a summer tour with the reunited fIREHOSE?) This trip down memory lane circa 1996 was less about nostalgia than rediscovering some timeless music.—Chris Bilton
Teenage Kicks (The Garrison, 2 a.m.): In the 2007 Tom Petty documentary Runnin’ Down a Dream, we’re reminded how, improbable as it may seem today, Petty and his Heartbreakers were initially aligned with punk and new wave—because, even though Petty was clearly drawing from venerable ’60s sources like The Beatles and Byrds, the passion and concision in his songwriting made the music feel bold, fresh and daring. You can see that logic at play in Toronto’s Teenage Kicks, who excavate well-mined late-’70s American arena rock influences—Petty, Springsteen, Cheap Trick—but do so with an enthusiasm and intensity that make you believe they were the first band to come up with the idea. Showing no signs of fatigue from a busy, four-gig CMF, the band’s last-call set boasts enough wind-milled riffs, group sing-alongs and crashing crescendos to make Born to Run seem like Born to Jog in comparison, but the outsized emotionalism never teeters into cheesy melodrama. In fact, all these good vibes manifest themselves in an unhinged cover of the Fabs’ bad-trip classic “Helter Skelter” (with special attention paid to the subliminal backing harmonies) that culminates in singer Peter van Helvoort hurtling himself into the drum kit. Sure it’s another move we’ve seen before, but it’s one that underscores a certain rock ‘n’ roll fundamental: It’s one thing to build up a Wall of Sound, but it’s more exciting to see it all come crashing down. Prediction: These guys will be opening arena shows for Pearl Jam within three years.—Stuart Berman
