April 2013 reviews

The following reviews ran in the Waterloo Record and the Guelph Mercury last month. Highly, highly, highly recommended: AroarA. Merely highly recommended: Rokia Traoré, Joshua Van Tassel.

AroarA – In the Pines EP (Club Roll)


Someone old, something new. You know Andrew Whiteman from Broken Social Scene, Apostle of Hustle and many other projects. You don’t know his new collaborator Ariel Engel, who sings the bulk of this material and brings out the best in Whiteman. The lyrics on AroarA’s debut EP are by American poet Alice Notley, from her 2007 book of the same name, set here to original music made with primitive cigar-box banjos and drum machines. Notley’s poems themselves reference old folk songs, and even a Bob Dylan lyric about Blind Willie McTell, so repurposing Notley’s words for modern avant-garde pop music taps into a natural continuum. If that doesn’t intrigue you enough and you need a big namedrop, it was recorded at Feist’s house.

Concept and pedigree aside, it’s the music of AroarA that compels. Like the Los Lobos side project Latin Playboys, AroarA takes traditional elements—Spanish pop, American blues, Asian melodies, PJ Harvey—and tosses them in a digital kaleidoscope that defies easy description. Engel’s compelling voice is the anchor: a confident calm presence not unlike Feist or Daniela Gesundheit of Snowblink (who all performed together at the 2012 Polaris Prize gala). The sonic density that marked Whiteman’s last album as Apostle of Hustle has been stripped back; each track contains only a few elements: sampler, two guitars and percussion, either electronic, hand-played or of unknown origin.

These five songs are as fulfilling as a full-length album, but they’re just the beginning: nine more are due on AroarA’s debut album in June. (April 4)

Download (tracks only have numbers as titles, as per the original poems; they don’t refer to running order): “#11,” “#6,” “#2”

Arts and Crafts: 2003-2013 – Various Artists (Arts and Crafts)

Many people and many artists across the country contributed to the explosion of great Canadian music in the last decade, but it’s safe to say that Toronto label Arts and Crafts were at the forefront of taking it all to the mainstream: first with Broken Social Scene, whose Kevin Drew is a cofounder, then with Feist and many others. Arts and Crafts has released many classic Canadian records, and it’s a safe bet that a decade retrospective would be a worthy time capsule.

Sadly, it’s not. The selection here appears to have been selected from a shuffle playlist, albeit one that favours Broken Social Scene, Feist and Stars, with three tracks each—odd for Stars, who have released just as many albums off the label as they have on. Many artists are relegated to the “rarities” disc, hence people like the Constantines, Hidden Cameras, Cold Specks, the Dears, Gonzales and Snowblink are not necessarily on their A game. Bell Orchestre, who put out one of the best albums in the label’s entire discography, is not found anywhere here.

Listening to the main disc gives further credence to the notion that the label has faltered the most when it recruits from outside its immediate family: The Most Serene Republic? Los Campesinos? New Buffalo? Dan Mangan? Well, at least Mangan sells a lot of records and deserves to be here. The compiler does deserve some credit, at least, for finding a listenable song by the Stills.

You probably own the best Arts and Crafts albums already, and this compilation won’t shed much light on the rest of the roster. Save your money and buy a ticket for their June 8 anniversary show in Toronto featuring a one-off Broken Social Scene reunion, Feist, Stars, Zeus, Cold Specks, Jason Collett and more—including Hayden and Bloc Party, who are also absent from the comp. (April 18)

Download: “Islands in the Stream” – Feist and the Constantines; “I Want a New Drug” – Apostle of Hustle; “Apology” – Kevin Drew

The Bicycles - Stop Thinking So Much (Aporia)

This Toronto pop band was beloved but underrated during their run in the 2000s; after a four-year hiatus, they remind us what we’ve been missing by returning from various other projects sounding entirely rejuvenated and more eclectic than ever, not unlike a ’70s K-Tel collection where the only real through line is an abundance of sunny California harmonies. Twee pop, country balladry, glam rock, even some Rolling Stones swagger weave their way through these two- and three-minute miracles, where each member brings their own songs to the table—and drummer Dana Snell nearly steals the whole show with her opening track, the lovely “Appalachian Mountain Station.” (April 25)

Download: “Appalachian Mountain Station,” “Bandana Cat,” “Goldeneye”

James Blake – Overgrown (Polydor)

This young Brit wowed plenty with his 2011 debut, with its blend of innovative electronics, live performance and Blake’s androgynous croon, as well as a dreamy Feist cover.  And yet anyone who heard Blake’s earlier instrumental EPs may well have wondered why he appeared to have dropped the ball for his coming-out party, with a collection of tracks that were neither great songs nor particularly cutting edge: clearly this man had more potential than just a great voice.

Blake more than makes up for that on Overgrown, which is both as sonically stunning and seductive as what is ostensibly a pop album could possibly be. He’s obvious invested more time into the songwriting process instead of coasting on his studio wizardry, and yet he’s not about to embrace clichés. What would have happened had Joni Mitchell fled California in the early ’70s and moved to Berlin to work with Brian Eno? They would have spawned James Blake. (April 18)

Download: “Overgrown,” “Retrograde,” “Digital Lion”

The Burning Hell - People (weewerk)

“Inside everyone one of us is a comedian, a cult leader and an amateur rapper.” So says Mathias Kom, singer and songwriter at the core of The Burning Hell. He should know: he’s all three. His band is an open invitational depending on what city he’s living in at the moment (Peterborough, Whitehorse, now St. John’s); he’s a verbose wordsmith who claims he writes songs while listening to the Wu-Tang Clan; and he’s wry, witty, and occasionally hilarious.

Kom writes songs that ask questions no one else dares to ask—never mind set to music. Why aren’t cults ever any fun? Why, as teenagers, were we prematurely nostalgic for the age we actually were at the time? Why not set the legend of Loki to a seven-minute rock epic? When Lionel Richie wrote “Hello,” was it you he was looking for and not the blind girl in the video?

As Kom has shifted from ukulele-wielding folk singer to stream-of-consciousness rock bandleader, he’s less concerned with writing songs than he is using the music as a vehicle for observational ramblings. It can be a recipe for disaster—his last album, overburdened with pop culture references, was proof of this—but here he’s a raconteur par excellence, holding court while his band keeps the party going behind him. (April 25)

Download: “Grown-ups,” “Amateur Rappers,” “Industrialists”

Dusted – Total Dust (Hand Drawn Dracula)

Pick a Piper – s/t (Mint)

Canadians seem to excel at albums tailor-made for long-haul late-night drives: spooky enough to suit the occasion, but with enough volume and pulse to keep the driver awake. And why wouldn’t we? We, especially our touring musicians, spend an inordinate amount of time in the wee hours travelling from town to faraway town. Brian Borcherdt, a rock’n’roll lifer who’s spent almost 20 years on the road, is no different, hence the sound of his new project, Dusted, made during a rare time when he was standing still.

While his all-live electronic band Holy Fuck was touring the world in the last eight years and hailed as one of the best live acts in Canada, Borcherdt was busy releasing quiet solo albums under his own name. When his bandmates took some time off to raise babies, Borcherdt threw himself into Dusted, a collaboration with producer/drummer Leon Taheny (Owen Pallett, Bruce Peninsula, Austra).

Taheny brings out the best in Borcherdt’s songwriting; while his solo work was often lovely but aimless, Taheny tightens everything up with minimal percussion and dropping in ukulele, violin and minimal keyboards when necessary. Borcherdt, who’s also in fine vocal form, plays chugging rhythm guitar with a steady hand and both feet on effects pedals, looping it and running it through various decaying levels of distortion. The result sounds unlike Borcherdt’s good pal Chad Van Gaalen (especially in a live setting), but the album successfully creates its own world, one where the late-night radio is your guiding light.

A similar vibe prevails for K-W’s Pick a Piper, though further astray from the indie rock singer/songwriter genre Dusted is working in. Waterloo drummer Brad Weber has been performing with psychedelic electronica group Caribou for the last decade, and that band’s sound inevitably bleeds through on Weber’s first full-length as Pick a Piper. Comparisons are inevitable not only because of the direct connection, but because very few, if any, other acts working today successfully merge those elements, other than Atoms for Peace, the new band from Radiohead’s Thom Yorke (who is a big Caribou fan). Like Caribou’s Dan Snaith, Weber employs lovely melodies and Beach Boys harmonies, sets them to club beats on both acoustic and electronic drums, and layers in various percussive and jazz elements—and then lets you sit back and zone out. Vocalists from Braids, Ruby Suns and Enon also show up to provide additional scenery along the way, though they easily fade into the blurry background of a fascinating journey. (April 4)

Download Pick a Piper: “Cinders and Dust,” “Once Were Leaves,” “South to Polynesia”

Download Dusted: “All Comes Down,” “(Into the) Atmosphere,” “Pale Light”

Iron and Wine – Ghost on Ghost (Nonesuch)

Iron and Wine’s Sam Beam introduced himself to us many years ago as a solo, fingerpicking singer/songwriter. As his popularity grew, his arrangements swelled and he slowly shifted into swampy, New Orleans psychedelic funk that owed a few debts to Dr. John’s more outré output. Here, however, it sounds like he took a more marked left turn: by getting happy.

Ghost on Ghost is notable for sounding much sunnier than any other Iron and Wine album; the preponderance of major keys helps. For an album with “ghost” in its title, Beam has shifted from spookier sonics into opiated bliss, California soft rock that could be a funkier Fleetwood Mac. Longtime producer Brian Deck continues to provide plenty of tasty tricks underneath the steady calm of Beam’s voice; just because the music is pleasant doesn’t mean it can’t be multi-layered and sophisticated. The other key difference is the increased role of a horn section, providing not just soul shots but even embarking on bebop jazz breakdowns on tracks like “Lover’s Revolution”—didn’t see that coming.

It’s easy to underestimate Iron and Wine, but Sam Beam has just given us yet another reason why we never should. (April 18)

Download: “Joy,” “Low Light Buddy of Mine,” “Winter Prayers”

Kacey Musgraves - Same Trailer, Different Park (Universal)

This 24-year-old Texas artist is notable most for what she is not: she’s far removed from the gloss of new country—no crunching guitars or synths here—yet conventional enough to target the same market; a year older than Taylor Swift, she writes poignant, homespun and youthful observations without sounding like a 15-year-old Twilight fan. Musgraves has a sweet enough voice, though unremarkable; the appeal is her songwriting. Her first single features the opening line, “If you ain’t got two kids by 21, you’re probably going to die alone / at least that’s what tradition told you.” That, and her love of minor chords, makes you wonder how she ever wound up a contestant on Nashville Star (where she placed seventh). This, her fourth album but major-label debut, sounds like the love child of Lucinda Williams and Fred Eaglesmith, with trace elements of teen angst found in a line like, “It’s a fine line between telling a joke and twisting the knife.” The album has already topped the U.S. country charts and sold half a million copies in three weeks, and it sounds like this well is just going to get deeper. (April 11)

Download: “Merry Go ’Round,” “My House,” “Dandelion”

New Country Rehab - Ghost of Your Charms (Kelp) 

The name of this band suggests that they’re tried and true traditionalists bucking against the slick new country scene. Well, they do replace gloss with grit, but the muscular, modern arrangements here aren’t all that far off from stadium-size country music—or Bruce Springsteen circa The Rising. This ain’t no Hank Williams revival act (see: Daniel Romano). Frontman John Showman is not only a convincing belter, but he’s a fine fiddler player, and its those textures that set this band apart from every other roots rock act in Canada. Producer Chris Stringer (Timber Timbre, Snowblink) captures the live energy effectively: this is a record that demands to be played loud. Too bad the performances and the production outshine the songwriting, something that matters a whole lot less on stage, which is obviously this band’s forte. (April 25)

Download: “Rollin’,” “Lizzy Dying of a Broken Heart,” “Midnight Cargo”

The Ford Pier Vengeance Trio – Huzzah! (independent)

Ford Pier is one of Canada’s musical MVPs, playing with members of the Rheostatics, NoMeansNo, backing up arty singer/songwriters Veda Hille and Christine Fellows, and serving time in punk legends D.O.A., cowpunk pioneers Jr. Gone Wild and reggae band Roots Roundup. What does Pier get up to on his own terms? Tightly controlled jazz-punk chaos in a power-trio setting that celebrates “the gift of life” one minute while decrying destruction and banality the next. Pier doesn’t do anything simply: every track here twists and turns inside out and yet never spirals out of control, thanks in part to a phenomenal rhythm section that seem to understand every synapse in Pier’s brain. It’s all overwhelming on first listen; sometimes you wish Pier didn’t feel the need to change chords every two beats. But Pier’s invention and magnetism—and brevity—carry the day. Huzzah, indeed. (April 11)

Download: “When We Were Poor,” “The Gift of Life,” “Newton and the Counterfeiters”

Cam Penner – To Build a Fire (Rawlco Radio)

Cam Penner is the kind of guy who wanders up to your folk-festival campfire and casually starts playing a few songs that sound like howling winds set to blues stomps that suddenly shut up all the drunks, until everyone is spellbound wondering exactly who this travelling stranger is. That’s just how he rolls: Penner is a wandering troubadour who has lived and worked all over the continent (“sometimes I wonder if I’m running or being chased”), performing songs with choruses like “may the good Lord take you in self-defence.” He opens this, his fifth album, with a brass instrumental; the Everlast-esque single “Memphis” drops a drum machine into the rhythm. But for the most part, Penner stays true to his cabin-in-the-woods aesthetic, drawing you in with tales of travel and dollops of inspiration for tough times. (April 25)

Download: “Whiskey Lips,” “No Consequence,” “Memphis”

The Sapphires – Various Artists (Sony)

It’s been over 20 years since The Commitments, one of the finest and funniest movies about rock’n’roll ever made, in which a band of ragged Irish misfits attempt to make American soul music. And unlike 1990, classic R&B is back in style in full force, so the idea of a new film soundtrack stacked with actors singing faithful versions of Motown and Stax classics won’t seem an overworked concept for anyone too young to remember either The Commitments or The Blues Brothers. Plus, this time the artists doing the reappropriation of African-American culture are Australian Aborigines.

But do we need yet another version of “I Heard It Through the Grapevine” or “Land of 1,000 Dances”? (Supplementary question: does CCR’s “Run Through the Jungle” need to appear on yet another soundtrack of a Vietnam film?) The cinematic twist this time is the ’60s story of Australian Aborgine women, who had only recently been granted political and legal rights, who were recruited to form an R&B band to entertain American troops in Vietnam. The story sells the movie, but all you really need to hear is actress Jessica Mauboy open her mouth: she is every bit the equal of Diana Ross, Carla Thomas, Gladys Knight and Mavis Staples, and she even pulls off Merle Haggard’s “Today I Started Loving You Again” and Arthur Lyman’s “Yellow Bird.” On the one modern-sounding track here, “Gotcha,” she enters Beyoncé territory, signalling that she’s poised for much more than a fluke film role. (April 11)

Download: “Gotcha,” “What a Man,” “I’ll Take You There”

Telekinesis – Dormarion (Merge)

People continue to whine about lacklustre new Weezer albums, while young Michael Benjamin Lerner, a.k.a. Telekinesis, is now on his third flawless record of anthemic power pop. What gives? Lerner is a master of melancholic lyrics set to sunny melodies, crushing guitars, fuzzy bass and new wave keyboards, to say nothing of his own buoyant drumming. He gets production help this time out from Spoon drummer Jim Eno, like Lerner himself a multi-tasking percussionist. Eno not only brings out Lerner’s pre-existing strengths, he also drops a drum machine on him and plays up an ’80s influence on several tracks. And majestic closing track “You Take It Slowly” is the song you keep hoping the reunite Pixies would get around to writing. (April 4)

Download: “Power Lines,” “Laissez-Faire,” “Ever True”

Rokia Traoré – Beautiful Africa (Nonesuch)

This Malian musician has collaborated with novelist Toni Morrison, Led Zeppelin bassist John Paul Jones, and toured with Blur’s Damon Albarn. She’s the daughter of a diplomat who was posted to the U.S., Europe and the Middle East. She studied sociology in Brussels. This, her fifth album, is produced by PJ Harvey sideman John Parish. And yet after Beautiful Africa, it’s unlikely she’ll need such name-dropping to be remembered.

She’s a stunning guitar player, steeped in Malian blues (and one of the few female instrumentalists from that scene), but it’s her voice that’s entirely captivating: though she’s capable of projecting, she’s at her most powerful when she applies her strength at a lower volume, with an ever-so-slight tremolo that’s nothing short of chilling, especially on the epic nine-minute ballad N’Teri. Parish gives her a stripped-down backing: a minimalist funky drummer, an n’goni player and a bassist, all used sparingly.

Traoré recently relocated with her son to Paris from Bamako, which is threatened by Islamist insurgents who, among other atrocities, want to ban music in one of the most musically rich regions of the world. Her lyrics are in French, so I can’t assess their political content (if any), but her voice alone is resilience and beauty embodied. (April 25)

Download: “Sikey,” “Melancolie,” “Tuit Tuit”

Joshua Van Tassel - Dream Date (Backward Music)

“Dream date” doesn’t refer here to a fantasy romance; it’s about an appointment with an imaginative, abstract, haunting and playful environment. Van Tassel is an in-demand drummer and multi-instrumentalist for many Toronto singer/songwriters; left to his own devices, he constructs carefully constructed melodic and cinematic instrumentals of all varieties: propulsive, subdued, acoustic instruments manipulated electronically or left to shine on their own strengths. He believes in brevity—only one song here is longer than five minutes—and every sonic layer is entirely deliberate; there’s very little clutter. He does invite two vocalists into the fold—an uncharacteristically gut-wrenching Justin Rutledge, and a soaring Kate Rogers—for two of the album’s strongest songs, but those are by no means the most melodic. Van Tassel has charted an eclectic sonic journey where Calexico, Patrick Watson and the Rheostatics are fellow travellers. (April 11)

Download: “The Sharpest Corner,” “Sentimental Health,” “I Think You’re a Salesman”

Yeah Yeah Yeahs – Mosquito (Universal)

In the first three songs of the first new Yeah Yeah Yeahs album in four years, we hear: a raw post-punk song that culminates with a full-on gospel choir: a brooding, haunting lullaby that samples a New York City subway car as a rhythm track; an unhinged, nonsensical shriekfest that hearkens back to the very first tracks that put this once-incendiary trio on the map. After the smash success of their electro-disco makeover on 2009’s It’s Blitz!, it sounds like the band has no idea what it should be anymore and doesn’t care. Neither should we, if they sound this good flailing in all directions.

No doubt it helps that singer Karen O has returned to New York from California to join her bandmates; Mosquito is much more informal and loose than this band has been since their debut full-length. Invite long-dormant Kool Keith alias Dr. Octagon to rap on “Buried Alive”? Why not. A Cramps-style sci-fi goof-off about alien conspiracy theories? Of course. And then there are the garage rock rave-ups, the ballads, the disco songs and everything in between. O has lost none of her potency as an ever-elastic vocalist—the bonus tracks include three acoustic demos where she’s pitch-perfect and gorgeous, as well as a howling, snarling live version of the title track—and her bandmates rarely resort to rock clichés.

If their former comrades in the Strokes—another band who defined New York City and rock and roll’s comeback in the early 2000s—are getting successively sleepier with each release, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs return fully invigorated. (April 18)

Download: “Subway,” “Mosquito,” “Despair”

Thatcher is dead. Do I still care?

It’s hard to imagine a more embittered political song than Elvis Costello’s “Tramp the Dirt Down,” a song that popped up frequently in my Facebook feed after Margaret Thatcher died on Monday. Leftist gadfly and British MP George Galloway tweeted the title as his official response. The lyrics read in part: “When England was the whore of the world, Margaret was her madam / And the future looked as bright and as clear as the black tarmacadam … I’d like to live long enough to savour / that when they finally put you in the ground / I’ll stand on your grave and tramp the dirt down.”

Costello was far from alone. This week saw plenty of lists compiling anti-Thatcher songs, from The Beat to Billy Bragg to Crass to Pink Floyd to, um, the Blow Monkeys, some dating as recently as 2011 (Pete Wylie’s “The Day That Margaret Thatcher Dies”). And one of my Maclean’s colleagues, Jaime J. Weinman, wrote an excellent story about Thatcher’s galvanizing effect on the British film industry, which resulted in many entrepreneurial, angry young filmmakers (Stephen Frears and Mike Leigh among them) railing against the prime minister and producing brilliant art along the way.

I don’t have anything nice to say about Margaret Thatcher, outside of her obvious importance as the first female leader of a world power—which surely even Top Girls playwright Caryl Churchill would admit is a feat in itself, regardless of the PM’s politics. She is perhaps the most incredibly uncomfortable feminist icon of all, one who once proclaimed: “I hate feminism. It is poison.”

I’m sure she had her finer points, but I only know she opened the floodgates of deregulation (enabling financial atrocities like the mysterious, all-powerful man known only as ‘the London Whale’), mercilessly attacked unions on principle, and opposed economic sanctions to apartheid-era South Africa. (When Brian Mulroney dies, one of the three nice things I will say about him is that he fought Thatcher firmly on this last issue.) On the other hand, the country was in obvious, seemingly irreversible decline before she was elected, under the Labour government in the ’70s—which is in part why punk rock happened.

But like most of my peers, most of my impressions of Thatcher come from popular culture. Britain is a foreign country to me; our Constitution was patriated three years into her first term. I care no more for British politics than anywhere else outside of North America, and I don’t even like much British music since Thatcher left office. (Coincidence?)

So I’m largely surprised—judging by largely laudatory mainstream media coverage and the hissing from my own lefty social circles bidding good riddance—that anyone here has any passionate feelings at all for the Iron Lady. Do we still hold serious grudges about her on this side of the Atlantic? If so, why? Just because some of us still listen to our Smiths and Sinead O’Connor records? I can understand if you were born there or still have family there. But as Canadians, any fascination faded long ago. Except for John Baird, of course—who named his cat after her. (Remember this?)

(On the flip side, I felt the same way about John Peel’s death in 2004. How many North Americans ever actually heard his BBC show? Or is our affection entirely second-hand, based entirely on what our favourite bands thought of him?)

Britain, of course, is still angry. I understand why. Time doesn’t easily heal the wounds inflicted by such a polarizing figure. But I honestly can’t believe that people are holding street parties celebrating her death, 23 years after she left office. She’s no Ceausescu or Pinochet (though she was inexplicably cozy with the latter). I also can’t imagine anything like that happening in North America. Surely the most reviled politician—by the culturati, anyway—of the last 50 years was Richard Nixon, and yet I can’t remember anyone singing about dancing on his grave in 1994 (maybe some of us were still recovering from Kurt Cobain’s suicide). Nor Ronald Reagan, who died in 2004 (maybe we were too busy being actively angry at George W. Bush). I still think Mike Harris was an asshole—but I’m not going to be drinking in the streets when he kicks it; I’ve largely forgotten about him entirely.

And yet one of Britain’s most popular cultural exports of the last 10 years, the film and then the stage musical Billy Elliot, has an uplifting Christmas song in which the chorus fantasizes about Thatcher’s death. (The show is still playing in London’s West End, and, after deliberation, the audience decided the show must go on this week.)

Meanwhile, there’s a Facebook campaign—the kind of which Brits excel, utilized to send an old Rage Against the Machine song to No. 1 during Christmas 2009, or to resuscitate Jeff Buckley’s version of “Hallelujah” to fight off a reality-show contestant’s version of the same—to send a certain The Wizard of Oz classic up the charts. That’s just weird, and yet somehow emblematic of an era when people consider Facebook’s “Like” button as a form of activism. It’s a song Klaus Nomi also directed toward her during her reign—I’d like to see that climb the charts, just to make it even weirder.

She once said, “I am not a consensus politician. I am a conviction politician.” I’ll grant her that. And I wish I had someone similar on my side of the political fence in power during my lifetime—I haven’t yet. Even if that meant art might get lazy.

I'll admit, though: I do have a sudden urge to see Billy Bragg on his current tour—not only because he just put out his first good record in 20 years.

Julia Ward

 “The curious never get old.” It’s a line from a song by Chris Brown and Kate Fenner, who were playlist mainstays on my campus radio program (1992-2002). I thought of that phrase often when remembering my friend Julia Ward, who passed away last week after her third bout with cancer. She was 52. She leaves a devoted husband, two incredible girls in their early 20s, a teenage boy (who I sadly never got to know), and many, many devout friends drawn to her spirit.

What follows is what I read at her wake in Guelph on Saturday. I was the only speaker who wasn’t a family member, neighbour or close friend. In some ways, what I said was selfish: what this woman meant to me, me, me, someone who probably knew her less than everyone else in the room. I wasn’t there to watch her struggles of the last five years. We never had conversations lasting several hours. We only broke bread on a handful of occasions. And yet, I think it says something about a person when she manages to touch someone who barely knew her, and that’s what I wanted to articulate.

I’m posting this here because I think our relationship also speaks to the relationship between a fan and any artist or writer or broadcaster attempting to communicate to the world—what it means to get a fan letter, what it means to connect a face to a voice, what it means to find out that someone found that bottle you tossed in the ocean and took your message to heart.

--

I first met Julia because she was a fan of my campus radio show. Hosting and programming a campus radio show is, for many and certainly for me , a very personal endeavour. In many ways, you’re baring your many idiosyncrasies and tastes for the world to hear. You’re inviting them into your bedroom, your living room, your head. Whatever is going on in your life is bound to be reflected in your choices. It can be an isolating experience: just you and the mic and some records in the booth, with no possible way to know how many people—if, in fact, any at all—are listening to you. 

The only time you really find out is when someone picks up the phone and calls in a request, or when, once a year, you turn into a huckster and beg your hypothetical audience to donate to the station during a fundraising drive. Mostly, it’s just people you know on the other end of the line, people who already like the music you do, people you work with, people you drink with. But I also had Julia.

For whatever reason, Julia was a total stranger who loved my show. We didn’t have any mutual friends—we still don’t, really. She was 10 years older than me. She had a real job and two young girls to raise; I had nothing of the sort. I suspect, as I now know about people over 30, that though she still loved music passionately, it was harder and harder to find reliable sources of new inspiration. When you find one, it can become a lifeline.

Having a fan outside of your own experience is a huge boost. It means you’re not just operating in a vacuum. It means you’re actually connecting with people. Julia called in requests and pledged generously to the show. But I’d also made a new friend. It’s not like we saw each other socially, but whenever we’d talk on the request line or see each other downtown there would be this unspoken shared acknowledgment that was more than just a casual greeting. It was: “Oh yes, you—I get you. You and I, we’re the same tribe. You’re one of the good ones.”

I wasn’t the only one. Tellingingly enough, she had a similar relationship with a host of another morning radio show on CFRU. Years later, that host and I got together. A few years after that, we moved in together. A few years after that, we had a child together. Julia was always excited about every one of these developments, and my fondest memories of her now are of when we’d visit her as a family in the past two years.

She always had that glow. She always had a giving spirit. She always had that look in her eye that said, “I believe in you.” I felt like Julia Ward was always on my side, rooting for me. And I feel incredibly richer for that. I know I’m not the only one.

March 2013 reviews

The following reviews ran in the Guelph Mercury and Waterloo Record this month.

Highly recommended: Justin Timberlake, Devendra Banhart, Blue Hawaii, Billy Bragg

Apparat Organ Quartet - Pólýfónía (Head in the Sand)

This Icelandic group claim to be the only organ quartet in the world—who's going to argue? Joined by a propulsive rock drummer, the keyboardists play every kind of antiquated synth or organ they can get their hands on, sing through Vocoders, avoid pre-programmed tracks, and write sci-fi stadium anthems. This is not the slick techno of Daft Punk, nor is it the improvisational raw synth rock of Toronto's Holy Fuck. This is Kraftwerk on steroids. Yes, it's a schtick, and your tolerance for it over the course of an album may be limited, but rarely does keyboard music sound this visceral. They're making their first trip here for Canadian Music Fest later this month, with three shows in Toronto. Roofs will be raised. (March 14)

Download: “Konami,” “Polynesia,” “Macht Parat Den Apparat”

Devendra Banhart - Mala (Nonesuch)

In the early 2000s, there are few artist who squandered such great potential as Devendra Banhart. With a wonderfully elastic, Jeff Buckley-esque voice, an inventive approach to lo-fi recording, quirky songs and a pronounced Latin influence, his first three albums were magical. Of the three albums that followed, two of them were indulgent, silly, often embarrassing, and eclectic to the point of confusion. If Banhart has fans left still ready to follow him, they deserve to be rewarded. And now they have.

Mala was made by just Banhart and long-time sideman Noah Georgeson in a home studio where they purposely tried to limit their options. The result is a sonically consistent, playful recording that plays up to all of Banhart's many strengths and eccentricities. It’s also a focused collection of solid songs that give his voice a chance to shine. Latin rhythms, garage rock, electro dreaminess and plaintive acoustic tracks blend perfectly together in a subdued, experimental eclectic vibe not unlike Yo La Tengo—in fact, this may be a better Yo La Tengo album than that band's latest. Even the deadpan duet with his fiancée, entitled “Your Fine Petting Duck,” which starts out as an acoustic tarantella before somehow morphing into a techno pop track sung in German, somehow makes perfect sense in the context of the album—which is saying a lot. (March 14)

Download: “Won't You Come Over,” “Hatchat Wound,” “Fur Hildegard Von Bingen”

Belle Star – s/t (independent)

The Belle Game – Ritual Tradition Habit (Boompa)

Wild Belle – Isles (Sony)

It was almost 10 years ago that every new band seemed to have “wolf” in their name. This month, for whatever reason, the debut albums by Belle Starr, The Belle Game and Wild Belle all came out within a week of each other. Though they couldn’t be more stylistically different, it’s still easy to get them confused.

Wild Belle is the Chicago brother-sister duo of Elliot and Natalie Bergman, who play an odd, modern hippie/hipster take on roots reggae. Elliot plays baritone saxophone, all manners of keyboards and electric kalimba; Natalie is the disaffected, flat vocalist who also handles some keyboards. How they ended up signing to a major label is a mystery—did they have the same Sony A&R rep as synth-pop weirdos MGMT? The Talking Heads’ rhythm section, Tina Weymouth and Chris Frantz, get a shout-out in the thank yous, and it’s easy to hear the connection with their Tom Tom Club. While the sound is initially intriguing—especially the kalimbas and baritone saxophone clashing with the lo-fi electro reggae rhythms—it wears thin quickly, primarily due to Natalie’s limited vocal range.

Vocals are not an issue for Belle Starr, which unites three Canadian fiddle players—one of whom, Miranda Mulholland, has played extensively with Great Lake Swimmers in recent years—who also sing gloriously together and, um, happen to be incredibly easy on the eyes, almost as if someone purposely put these three women together to target the CBC and folk festival demographic. Sadly, “New Girl Now” is not a Honeymoon Suite cover, though they do tackle songs by Bruce Springsteen and Justin Rutledge—which is a risky venture, because the originals don’t approach the same craft.

The Belle Game is a new Vancouver band that sounds like—a Vancouver band. Rainy-day ’80s noir pop never dies in that town, and powerful vocalist Andrea Lo soars over low-key instrumentation (pianos, vibes, trumpet, strings) that occasionally swell into the dramatic and anthemic. There’s a lazy, hazy air to the recording, not unlike that on recent records by neighbours Brasstronaut or Kathryn Calder. There are elements of equal greatness here, but this is still a band finding its feet. (March 28)

Download Wild Belle: “Keep You,” “It’s Too Late,” “Another Girl”

Download Belle Starr: “Tougher Than the Rest,” “Charity Kiss,” “Arthur’s Air”

Download The Belle Game: “Wait Up For You,” “River,” “Blame Fiction”

Blue Hawaii - Untogether (Arbutus)

Mozart's Sister - Hello EP (Merok)

Young Montreal group Blue Hawaii features vocalist Raphaelle Standell-Preston of Braids and her partner, one-time Berlin resident Alex Cowan, both part of the same scene that spawned Grimes (a former roommate), and who are currently opening for Montreal buzz band Purity Ring. 

The vocals are often clipped and the melodies fractured, though nonetheless gorgeous throughout. The beats are glitchy yet deep, not a common combination in experimental pop bands using electronics, nor is it particularly easy to pull off—but if anyone can, it will be a group from Montreal (or Berlin), where electronic music is part of the lingua franca. 

There are no sappy anthems, and given the choice between an obvious answer and colourful abstraction, they opt for the latter every time. There are no big hooks, but none are needed; it's easy to be carried adrift on the lush harmonies and lulling beats. There are obvious nods to Laurie Anderson, Kate Bush and Bjork here—even a dash of very early Eurythmics at their most experimental—with modern R&B programming and James Blake-ish abstraction. Untogether is a bold, stunning and beautiful album, and enough of a tabula rasa to translate into any language.

Somewhat similar is Mozart's Sister, the project of Montreal's Caila Thompson Hannant. While her approach is just as left-field, she's much more interested in pop hooks and conventional vocal bravado--which she's already put to work in her supporting role in Montreal party band Think About Life (she was also one half of Shapes and Sizes, who were signed to Sufjan Stevens's label, and she played bass in Miracle Fortress). This EP puts a polish on some earlier, Internet-only tracks and shows that she's thinking bigger than just a bedroom project. (March 7)

Download Blue Hawaii: “Follow,” “Sierra Lift,” “Sweet Tooth”

Download Mozart’s Sister: “Contentedness,” “Mozart’s Sister,” “Single Status”

David Bowie - The Next Day (Iso/Sony)

When the 66-year-old David Bowie announced his first album in 10 years, there was much rejoicing. But wait—has anyone but the most fervent fans listened to anything Bowie has done in the last 20 years? Were we all really expecting greatness from a once-great artist who, while still exhibiting excellent taste in his public endorsements of new artists, has done precious little to enhance his discography after his first two decades of classic records?

There's plenty about this record that justifies the hype: Bowie is in fine voice and the fiery arrangements show that he's not ready to mellow out any time soon. He may open the album singing,  "Here I am not quite dying / my body left to rot in a hollow tree," but you'd never guess that from his performance. The production by long-time producer Tony Visconti casts off any trend-chasing attempt at modernity and hearkens back to his late '70s recordings—like, oh I don't know, maybe 1977's Heroes, the album cover of which is recycled here in full, with the title scratched out and a large white box over the 35-year-old image of Bowie. It's almost as if Bowie was saying, "I know everyone is going to listen to this digitally anyway, so why bother with a new album cover?"

Bowie has announced he's not going to tour—perhaps ever again—and because fans had given up on the idea of new material, he's free to do whatever he likes. More power to him. Ultimately, though, that makes it disappointing that a), he's mostly content to retread past glories instead of going out on a limb, and b), that the songs here are merely okay--if anyone other than Bowie was singing them, it's unlikely anyone would care. The Next Day may well be the best Bowie album in 20 years, but just like everything else he's put out in that time, it's primarily for the diehards. (March 14)

Download: “Dirty Boys,” “The Stars (Are Out Tonight),” “(You Will) Set the World on Fire”

Billy Bragg - Tooth and Nail (Dine Alone)

Though political folk singer Billy Bragg has been incredibly active in the last two decades—as an activist, touring act and author—fans are unlikely to recall any of his new songs that match the power of his work in the ’80s. The notable exception was when he teamed up with Wilco to set music to Woody Guthrie poems, on the highly successful Mermaid Avenue series.

Bragg returns to Americana here, recruiting producer Joe Henry and some key sidemen (pedal steel player Greg Leisz, Canadian bassist David Piltch) to help him make a full-blown Neil Young-style country album, written and recorded as quickly as possible in Henry’s California house. Bragg’s voice has reached a lovely, low maturity—albeit still with the heavy Essex accent that is his trademark—perfect for the tear-in-his-beer heartbreakers he’s written this time out, the kind of classic country ballads Elvis Costello keeps trying, and largely failing, to write. Bragg is in such fine form here that he even pulls off the hardest trick in the book: writing a song about songwriting that actually manages to be universal and emotionally poignant (“Handyman Blues”).

Bragg can’t avoid the political, of course, though recently he’s redirected his topical songs away from his albums and made them available as instant downloads. Here, however, the pointed “There Will Be a Reckoning” succeeds as a timeless all-purpose anthem, while “No One Knows Nothing Anymore” somehow sidesteps becoming a tired tirade from a grumpy old man.

Determined not to be a total sad sack or doomsayer, Bragg ends the album singing (and whistling) “Tomorrow Will Be a Better Day.” And no doubt it will be, if this album is indicative of a creative rebirth for Billy Bragg. (March 21)

Download: “No One Knows Nothing Anymore,” “Handyman Blues,” “Do Unto Others”

Grapes of Wrath - High Road (Aporia)

Interesting album title, for a trio that took two decade-apart increments to bury long-simmering resentments among the original members. Last year a reunion tour by this '80s Kamloops, B.C., group garnered rave reviews, and that energy obviously poured into recording sessions with producer Darryl Neudorf (Neko Case, Two Hours Traffic)--an energy that wasn't necessarily there the last time the two songwriters, Tom Hooper and Kevin Kane, got together in 2000. As contemporaries of R.E.M., it's great to hear a band that didn't burn out by sticking around too long, so the Grapes' particular take on new wave Byrdsian paisley pop sounds remarkably rejuvenated here. Kane and Hooper split the song list down the middle: the March break pop anthem “Mexico” soars; the acoustic ballad “Take On the Day” is a worthy successor to earlier triumph “All the Things I Wasn't”; the psychedelic ballad “I'm Lost” is luxurious; the harmonies throughout, of course, are magnificent. Well worth burying the hatchet for, and another fantastic chapter for a band who were dangerously close to being a distant memory for many. (March 21)

Download: “Mexico,” “Take on the Day,” “Waiting to Fly”

How to Destroy Angels - Welcome Oblivion (Sony)

Trent Reznor announced recently that he's resurrecting Nine Inch Nails after a four-year hiatus. In the meantime, he's been focusing on film scores—his work on The Social Network bagged him an Oscar—and this new project with his wife, Mariqueen Maandig, only now releasing their debut. “The more things change / everything stays the same,” she sings, and nothing here is a radical departure from Reznor's past, other than the fact that his vocals are not front and centre, and the overall sound is moody rather than menacing. Reznor's main strength continues to be as a producer first and foremost: he's capable of crafting creepy but astounding aural environments. As a songwriter, however, there's very little to latch on to here--which is a real shame considering the possibilities Maandig brings to the group. Perhaps Reznor is best at soundtracks and Nine Inch Nails, and not much in between. (March 7)

Download: “Ice Age,” “Keep It Together,” “The Loop Closes”

Low - The Invisible Way (Sub Pop)

When you’ve been a band for 20 years (and a married couple for longer), sometimes you need a friend and fan to come in and remind you what you do best. And so after three albums of necessary sonic detours—some of which took their trademarked hushed sound and dead-slow tempos and introduced crashing electric guitars, uptempo numbers and electronics—Low called on Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy to sit in the producer’s chair.

Tweedy had invited Low to open a Wilco tour several years back, which means that unlike previous outside producers (Steve Albini, Dave Fridmann) he witnessed their strengths at work night after night: what better prep before heading into the studio? That means the band has never before sounded this focused; being the hushed minimalists they are, they've always been meticulous and deliberate, but Tweedy ensures that they never settle for succeeding on mood alone. These songs sound refined, crafted. Hence The Invisible Way is, perhaps, if not the best album of Low’s career (that would be the sprawling The Great Destroyer), it's certainly the most consistently strong. 

Drummer Mimi Parker takes the lead more often than usual here, and the frequent occasions where husband Alan takes the high falsetto harmony above her are as transcendent as always. Only the penultimate track, “On My Own,” a dirge-y, noisy number with a monotonous, endless closing refrain of the phrase “happy birthday" threatens to derail the entire album, before Mimi returns with a minimal piano song that concludes everything on yet another lovely note—and there could never be too many of those on any given Low album. (March 21)

Download: “Plastic Cup,” “So Blue,” “Just Make It Stop”

Palma Violets - 180 (Rough Trade)

Here's a next-big-thing rock act from Britain that actually sounds like they can deliver. Obviously recorded live—tempos lurch and accelerate, and they play with the energy of four young dreamers breathing down each others' necks mere inches away from each other—180 doesn't boast any fancy production tricks or unusual sounds; everything here could be sourced from a local vintage store; every song could be sourced from vintage records, for that matter. Any group of geeks who meet playing Clash songs around a campfire at a music festival (in this case, Reading) could arguably achieve the same thing, but Palma Violets have the garage-rock Holy Trinity of swagger, soul and—for the most part on this somewhat uneven album, which stumbles toward its finish line—songcraft, immediately elevating them above other pretenders to the throne. Lou Reed turned 71 this week; these young turks could be his grandkids, doing him proud. (March 7)

Download: “Best of Friends,” “Step Up the Cool Cats”

Rhye - Woman (Universal)

The makeout album of summer 2013? If the lavender and chamomile tea leaves in your cup started singing softly in your ear, it would sound a lot like this. The album begins like a vintage Disney film, with a string section playing an opening theme before being joined by low brass, swooping harps and a wordless choir. Then the soft, sexy beats come in, and sweet nothings whispered by an androgynous voice with Brazilian bossa nova detachment—which is one way of saying it’s a man who sounds an awful lot like a woman. And not just any woman, but Sade, whose shadow looms large over everything on the debut by this hotly tipped duo—one of whom is the Toronto singer Mike Milosh, who toiled in obscurity (with three albums to his name) before hooking up with a Danish producer in L.A. before building considerable online buzz in the 12 months before this album appeared. It's like The XX settling down on a Caribbean island, or Feist setting up shop in a spa town after Let It Die. There's no faulting the mood set here, though it's impossible to imagine ever listening to it in the foreground outside of candlelit dinners and film placements. (March 21)

Download: “Open,” “3 Days,” “One of Those Summer Days”

Sound City - Various Artists (Sony)

Dave Grohl is a first-class geek. Why else would the Foo Fighters founder make his debut as a documentary film director with a movie about a sound mixing board—not an artist, not a label, not even a studio, but a piece of technological equipment that means nothing to anyone who's not a professional musician? The board in question was used to make classic records by Fleetwood Mac, Neil Young, Paul McCartney, Tom Petty and others, including Nirvana for Nevermind, which is when Grohl's fascination began. When the studio housing it went out of business, Grohl had it shipped to his garage and invited some of the film's interview subjects over to record new songs. You can't fault Grohl for his affability and intentions: who else would put '80s pop star Rick Springfield and the vocalist from L.A. hardcore punk band Fear on the same album? Who else would think to match the singer from Slipknot with the guitarists from Cheap Trick and Kyuss? Most importantly, who else could convince Paul McCartney to write and record a new song with the surviving members of Nirvana? 

The McCartney song is a delicious WTF moment that actually works, strange as it is to hear the 71-year-old Beatle screaming, "Mama, set me free!" (Is his mama even still alive?) The same is true of a surprisingly muscular Rick Springfield, who does more than just triumph over low expectations: he kicks some serious ass. Sadly, the same cannot be said of almost everyone else here. Stevie Nicks sounds great, and writes a new minor-key song with Grohl perfectly suited for her, yet the lyrics are frighteningly awful. The rhythm section of Rage Against the Machine prove, after more than a decade as Audioslave, that they've lost any groove they once had. And everyone just sounds like watered down versions of their normal selves, including Grohl. Stunt-casting supergroups rarely work; this album is no exception. (March 14)

Download: “The Man That Never Was” (feat. Rick Springfield), “Your Wife is Calling” (feat. Lee Ving), “Cut Me Some Slack” (feat. Paul McCartney)

Suuns - Images Du Futur (Secretly Canadian)

It's not just electronic acts from Montreal making waves; Suuns accomplish just as much with only one keyboard in their arsenal, on top of a live rhythm section and dreamy guitars. They're rooted in '70s German art rock, with metronomic rhythms and lightly arpeggiating melodic lines underscoring disaffected vocals; much more soulful than shoegaze, more electrifying than the electronic crowd, and, on “Bambi,” capable of some an icy yet visceral post-punk disco throwdown. Singer Ben Shemie communicates using slurred, monotonous vocals with major attitude, recalling the British band Clinic, who made one great album before spinning their wheels for the next decade; this is the album Clinic should have made years ago. Suuns add some essential rock'n'roll energy into Montreal's avant-garde scene, and they're hitting their stride on this, their second album. (March 7)

Download: “2020,” “Minor Work,” “Bambi”

Justin Timberlake – The 20/20 Experience (Sony)

Ever since Michael Jackson’s death, everyone agrees it’s unlikely anyone will ever replace him or replicate his success. Which is true, for myriad reasons. But if anyone is going to come close, it’s Justin Timberlake—and this is his Thriller.

Timberlake’s appeal is obvious: other than his looks, his dancing and his boy band history (’N SYNC had the biggest-selling album of the 2000s), his elastic, falsetto voice continues to improve, he’s pushing himself musically, and he’s got his own Quincy Jones—producer mastermind Timbaland—in his corner, turning traditional R&B on its head, nodding to the past and vividly envisioning a bold new future.

Timberlake takes his time: not only did it take him seven years to follow up FutureSex/LoveSounds, but the opening track here, the Al Green/D’Angelo channelling “Pusher Love Girl,” takes eight minutes to unfold—one of three tracks here to do so. Nothing about this album is indulgent, however: songs are suites that shift gears with no shortage of ear candy colouring every corner of the sonic spectrum.

“Don’t Hold the Wall” opens with doo-wop harmony before introducing Indian percussion and samples set to a Southern hip-hop beat and crickets in the background; four minutes later it all breaks down leaving only an Exorcist-style minor piano key motif with a child’s voice, before the whole thing halts for a sparse, bass-heavy techno beat that sounds a lot like driving through late ‘80s Detroit. “Let That Groove Get In” has a New Orleans groove executed by electronic drums, a tight horn section and a sample of field recordings from Burkina Faso. The one downtempo song, “Blue Ocean Floor,” features seven minutes of backward-tracked swells and Timberlake in choir-boy mode; it’s entirely enchanting. Lead single “Suit and Tie” has a snare drum that sounds like a submarine ping, and harp-like piano sweeps run like an ostinato throughout. It’s hard to imagine any other modern pop artist attempting such ambition while still making catchy, accessible music.

Much of the credit, of course, goes to Timbaland, who after being ubiquitous in 2006—behind the boards for Timberlake and Nelly Furtado—managed to fall off completely, being almost entirely MIA in recent years. This is as much a comeback for him as it is for Timberlake, and it sounds like he’s been bottling up seven years worth of his best beats. Maybe Timberlake had a contract specifying first right of refusal.

The only place Timberlake stumbles is lyrically. There’s nothing wrong with an album of silly love songs, including one about travelling in a “Spaceship Coupe”—which is no longer science fiction when sung by one of the only pop stars who could actually afford extraterrestrial travel. But Timberlake has more than a few laugh-out-loud moments here: “If you’ll be my strawberry bubblegum, then I’ll be your blueberry body pie”?? And what’s with “Suit and Tie,” where he chants, “I be on my suit and tie / s--t tie, s--t tie”? Thankfully, there’s too much else going on to ever notice or care.

Rihanna might be the defining R&B artist of the last 10 years because of her endless stream of #1 hits, but you’d never listen to one of her albums all the way through. Timberlake wants and gets pop thrills, but he also knows what it’s like to crawl inside a rich musical world for over an hour. Apparently he’s ready to release another album later this year, but we’re going to absorbing this one for a long, long time. (March 28)

Download: “Don’t Hold the Wall,” “Strawberry Bubblegum,” “Let the Groove Get In”