Local Artists: Kasador
Live at the Broom Factory, Saturday February 14th 2026
When your bass slaps as hard as your hair flies.
What better way to celebrate love and friendship than a night spent with Kasador at the Broom Factory on Valentine’s Day?
While some people lean into candlelit dinners and prix fixe menus, I’ll take loud guitars, hometown pride, and a packed room of people singing along any day.
I first stumbled upon Kasador a few years ago during a perfectly respectable doom-scroll. They popped up on my feed and I paused… partly because they’re from Kingston (we love a local success story), and partly because something about them felt… different. The sound caught me straight away, and I quickly became fascinated by their dynamic.
They actually seemed to like one another.
Not in the “we tolerate each other because we split gas money” way. In the genuine, inside-joke, ride-or-die, “we’ve probably argued in a Tim Hortons parking lot and are still best friends” kind of way. It was refreshing. Slightly disorienting. Almost wholesome. Honestly, it gave me romantic hope for humanity. Or at least for band dynamics.
They’re younger than me by enough years that I could comfortably refer to them as “these lads” without irony. And instead of feeling ancient about it, I found myself weirdly hopeful. If this is the next generation… talented, tight-knit, making loud honest music with their friends… maybe we’ll be fine after all.
I’ve meant to catch a hometown show for ages. Truly. There were opportunities. Several, in fact. But every time, life intervened. Scheduling conflicts. Bad timing. The general chaos of adulthood. (If you know, you know.) So when I saw Valentine’s Day at the Broom Factory pop up, I didn’t hesitate. I bought tickets immediately.
Which turned out to be wise, because the show sold out.
A sold-out hometown show on a night dedicated to love feels a little poetic. And maybe that’s the point… not romantic love with chocolates and flowers, but the kind built on shared history, shared stages, shared miles in a van. The kind that survives bad gigs, long drives, and all the ways humans manage to drive each other slightly insane while still being friends. Basically, love in it’s purest, loudest, slightly sweaty form.
When we arrived at the Broom Factory, I hadn’t even set foot on the floor yet and I was already convinced I’d died and gone somewhere fabulous. I was blinded by a giant neon butterfly skeleton that practically demanded I worship it. I briefly considered taking a photo, but my eyes were too busy crying from the light.
After a few moments of reverent squinting, I managed to stumble forward, navigating the next dimension like a mildly disoriented pilgrim, and prepared myself for the onslaught of music, bodies, and the inevitable elbow to the ribs.
RustPump, a local Kingston band, opened the night and immediately made me question why I hadn’t seen them before. Within the first minute, I was already disappointed in myself. Their bluesy sound filled the room instantly, and I blurted out “wow these guys are good,” to no one in particular. By the end of their set, I’d heard the exact same realization spreading through the crowd like a very pleasant group epiphany. I’ll absolutely be keeping an eye out for their future shows. Their frontman has undeniable rock star energy. My ears were delighted. Ten out of ten, would accidentally shout compliments again.
The next band up was Hamilton’s Lost Faculty. I need to be honest… I was grooving along, getting into it, when suddenly, distraction struck. An elbow to my left side. A finger pointing to my right. I turned, and realized I was standing next to someone I quietly consider a music god.
The universe, clearly in a cheeky mood, had decided that Mandatory Romance Day™ would involve me standing beside numero uno of my irrational admiration, my favourite musician. I’ll keep his name to myself… don’t want to embarrass him with my twelve-year-old-level fangirling. I embarrass myself enough for everyone.
But, in my own small victory, I remembered something I learned from watching Gary at the record store: keep yer cool. I didn’t bother him, didn’t make a scene, didn’t flail or squeal or attempt any sort of subtle fan-ritual. Instead, I tried to remind myself he’s only a carbon-based lifeform with good hair and gave the band my undivided attention (mostly).
And the band deserved it. Lost Faculty were excellent… they kept the room moving, and I could hear the same murmurs of appreciation I’d heard during RustPump’s set. Like Kasador, they give off the vibe of genuinely good guys: nice to their fans, approachable, the kind of band you actually want to root for.
Though I tried to stay grounded in reality… I was mostly on another planet for their set, mentally alternating between “don’t embarrass yourself” and “have I actually died and gone to heaven?” I’ll definitely need to catch them again for a proper review. But even from my distracted vantage point, it was clear they’re really good, and my ears remained happy.
Now… I don’t usually feel the need to discuss the between-set tunes, but this time it feels important. I found myself doing involuntary interpretive dance when songs by Viagra Boys, Amyl and the Sniffers, and Getdown Services started playing, which is not behaviour I typically display in public. Due to the sheer euphoria coursing through me, (and possibly the residual effects of standing too close to the neon butterfly), I was once again wondering if I had entered the afterlife. I immediately suspected Boris (the bassist from Kasador) handpicked these songs for the playlist, because I had previously confirmed we share a very healthy appreciation for these bands.
Thankfully, by the time Kasador came on, the crowd had shifted just enough that I was no longer standing directly beside God. It’s okay, I’m not worthy (deep Wayne’s World bow, internally). Which meant I did not subject him to my weird interpretive dancing. I was now free to fully engage with the main act like a normal, emotionally stable adult.
I had high hopes. I’d bought one of Kasador’s musroom-devil T-shirts last summer from Whit Kingston purely because it looked cool, and I was excited to finally attach some legitimate fan credentials to it instead of feeling like a poser who just enjoys demonic fungi aesthetics. They did not disappoint.
These lads are good. Really good.
It was slightly surreal seeing them live after consuming so many videos online… like meeting someone you’ve only ever known through a screen and discovering they exist in three dimensions and are somehow louder. I even sang along to a few songs I knew (like “Cut It” and “Golden”), which I usually reserve for only the most trusted concerts.
They were wildly entertaining, and the audience felt unusually perfect… like if someone had carefully curated a room full of chill, friendly humans for research purposes. Everyone just looked genuinely happy to be there, which is my favourite kind of crowd. No pushing, no weird vibes, just collective joy and the occasional person swaying like they’d forgotten gravity existed. Not to sound like a broken record (pun fully intended), but it truly felt like Valentine’s day in heaven… except heaven apparently serves tall cans and plays loud indie rock music.
Fittingly, they’re currently touring behind their new album Momma Might’ve Raised a Fool, and if this show was any indication, paradise just got a serious soundtrack upgrade.
Fans were invited to meet the band after the show, which I would have loved… if only I hadn’t spent the evening pre-gaming with anxiety instead of food. Now, starving and single-mindedly hunting pizza, I left with sore feet, a ringing in my ears, and the quiet certainty that I had spent Mandatory Romance Day™ exactly right. Surrounded by good music, good people, and the kind of joy you can’t manufacture… only stumble into if you’re lucky.
If this was my final destination (without the impending sense of doom), I’m relieved to report heaven has excellent bands, surprisingly polite crowds, and lighting that could summon aircraft.
-Written by Kait Tucker (@that.mother.tucker), professional fangirl and occasional interpretive dancer
Related albums we’ve got in the shop right now:
Kasador, Brood & Bloom
Sealed CD, $15
