IQALUIT—There is, admittedly, rarely a perfect occasion for an unseasonable blizzard, but the storm that blew into Iqaluit with a vengeance on Saturday afternoon could not have picked a more unfortunate moment to shut down the entire town.

The conference portion of the first-ever Nunavut Music Week had just ended on an emotional high note, with the intimate group of northern musicians and southern delegates who’d spent the previous four days sharing ideas, soaking up music and forging friendships embracing in a giant group hug after an appreciative post-mortem session that left most in the room with tears in their eyes.

The stage was set for an explosive final night out on the town: ferocious Inuk rising star Tanya Tagaq would demolish the nearby Inuksuk High School with an early-evening performance, then everyone would move to Iqaluit’s Royal Canadian Legion hall for a second night of Nunavut Music Week showcases climaxing in a headlining performance by festival creator/curators the Jerry Cans.

As it turns out, however, the power outage that had a couple of hours earlier briefly forced the conference’s media panel (of which this writer was a part) to conduct its discussions in semi-darkness at the Nunavut Francophone Association building was but a faint harbinger of things to come.

Just as everyone was about to part ways and ready themselves for the fun to come, word came down that the Legion would not be opening that night due to the weather, cabs were being taken off the icy roads and Tagaq’s performance had been cancelled. A thick veil of windblown snow had descended upon the city, Frobisher Bay had been rendered invisible and a slick layer of ice underneath the drifts made walking nearly as treacherous as driving.

Even in the north, such a whiteout in late September is uncommon. As frazzled Jerry Cans frontman Andrew Morrison put it: “This is unheard of.”

Northerners are nothing if not resourceful, however, and within the hour it was decreed that the closing-night festivities would move to the home of genial Jerry Cans drummer Steve Rigby — a chap so generous with his time and energy that, after chauffeuring Nunavut Music Week guests around in his truck for much of the week, he still had it in him to whip around the dark, deserted streets on a snowmobile tugging a caribou-pelt-lined qamutik (or “sled,” if you prefer the less elegant expression) picking up those partygoers unwilling to risk cracking their skulls open on a walk to his place.

Rigby’s living room became an impromptu stage, an assortment of instruments left over from his high-school days served as “gear,” disco lights were unleashed upon the ceiling, everyone piled whatever booze they had into a big bin by the door and … well … a proper rager ensued. Meanwhile, Tagaq and violinist/producer Jesse Zubot arrived with the very good news that they’d postponed their flights out of town and that their Iqaluit show would happen on Sunday instead. All was suddenly right with the world again.

As it turns out, it was the perfect way to end Nunavut Music Week. Morrison and his partner and Jerry Cans co-vocalist Nancy Mike had said from the beginning that they wanted visitors to the conference to experience the northern way of life as much as they did the Inuktitut music they’ve been championing with their recently established Aakuluk Music label, and Nunavut certainly delivered that experience on Saturday, emphasizing in fine meteorological style just one of the many logistical barriers that make it so difficult for northern music to be heard in the rest of Canada and around the world.

Mainly, though, the impromptu house party — which featured enjoyably loose performances by boffo local blues-rockers the Trade-Offs, most of Igloolik’s legendary Northern Haze and, of course, a thoroughly whiskey-soaked Jerry Cans, not to mention a demonstration of traditional competition throat singing between local singer/songwriter Riit and a young woman named Avery — fit the informal vibe of the small, friendly and unpretentious Nunavut Music Week gathering as a whole. “Northern hospitality” is a very real thing.

Moreover, Saturday night’s joyous denouement demonstrated just how close-knit and resourceful this tiny yet mighty scene really is, and just how much talent has been able to thrive here against the odds.

Five or 10 years from now, when Nunavut Music Week has grown into whatever it will grow into — and it will grow because there’s far too much world-class music being made up here for it not to grow — everyone in attendance will speak fondly of that almost-disastrous first year and the house party at “453” that saved it all.

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A musical conduit between north and south has been opened. I don’t see it closing.

Correction – October 2, 2017: This article was edited from a previous version to update a headline that mistakenly referred to Northern Haze as a band from Iqaluit.

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