Every year I publicly plead my case before the 10 grand jurors
who will be choosing this year’s Polaris Prize winner. I’m part of the larger
jury who selects the shortlist; last year I was one of the 11 who picked Feist
as the recipient of the $30,000 prize for her album Metals. I wrote about that
experience here. But, to paraphrase Drake, you only serve once, so now I’m back
in the peanut gallery (a.k.a. the unlicensed balcony at the gala). But were I
back among the deciders, this is what I’d say, writing about two albums a day,
along with two more albums I would have loved to have seen on the shortlist:
The shortlisted:
Godspeed You Black Emperor – Allelujah! Don’t Bend! Ascend!
(Constellation)
The album:
It opens with a 20-minute track named after a Serbian war
criminal, the first six minutes of which is a slowly unfolding drone crescendo
before we even get to our first chord change. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to
Polaris 2013! What better way to begin our discussion of the confounding
clusterfuck of choices vying for this year’s award. Even though there’s a lot
of great music on the shortlist, no one seems particularly happy about it—and I
can guarantee you that the anarchist rabble in Godspeed find it bemusing at
best. (They’re not playing the gala, and they’re not participating in the split 7” series. No surprises there.)
This, the fourth Godspeed full-length but their first in a
decade, is in many ways their most accomplished: they’ve all gained wide
musical experience in the interim, which enhances their initial chemistry and
finds them playing with greater confidence than before. The production is
certainly their best yet: still captured in the audio equivalent of grainy
black-and-white film, but with better use of lighting, let’s say. For the first
time on a recording, when Godspeed get heavy, it’s really fucking heavy.
Here’s the weird thing: the third track (of four) is another
20-minute epic with a climax—but this time in a major key. How weird is that? Very weird, for
a band who always gave the impression they thought the world was rigged and
full of shit and whose guitars sounded like they were weeping, even at their most
ferocious. What’s with the sudden flash of optimism, did these guys become
parents or something? (Answer: yes.)
Ultimately, what this album proves is that Godspeed were
always better than their contemporaries (Mogwai) or their descendants
(Explosions in the Sky), and this is their victory lap.
The chances:
Slim. I go back and forth with this record, entirely
depending on mood, listening volume, etc. Sometimes I think it’s a noble effort
but not particularly engaging; other times I find myself carried by the waves
and enjoying the layers and emotional payoffs. I was shocked to see it make the
shortlist, and can’t help but wonder if fans of this band are just so happy to
hear this band back or if they actually love this album on its own
merits—because despite everything I just said about it, it still stands a
distant second to the debut for me (which, had Polaris been around in 1998, I’m
almost positive the band would have won). Also: grand jurors predisposed to the
Constellation Records roster will undoubtedly be a wedge vote forced to take
sides, and the Colin Stetson album is far more fascinating.
Zaki
Ibrahim – Every Opposite (Motif/Pirates Blend)
The album:
Before I
heard this album, I’d always been intrigued by Zaki Ibrahim what she had to say
and what she was trying to do, but her early work, I thought at the time, was
featherweight. That changed immediately as soon as I caught wind of this album,
which she released in her new locale of South Africa (her father’s birthplace).
I was tipped to it last fall by Del Cowie of Exclaim! and Vibes and Stuff on
the Polaris discussion board; were it not for him, it would have completely
flown underneath my radar, seeing how it didn’t have any domestic distribution
(not even iTunes, just her own Bandcamp page) and zero Canadian publicity.
Ibrahim
finally hired some Canadians to work the record after the Polaris shortlist was
announced. But the story of this album’s placement on the shortlist speaks to
everything Polaris should be about: finding the best music, regardless of what
kind of public or publicity buzz there is behind it. Because in this case,
there was none. The only reason we’re talking about it now is because jurors
pleaded its case to other jurors.
“Draw the
Line” sets rolling percussion and vocals that could come from South African
township jive to a thoroughly modern electronic setting. “Everything” sounds
like Bjork producing a Sade single. “Something in the Water” is a skittering,
dark dubstep beat—in the original, Burial sense of the term—with a
gospel-tinged chorus. “Heart Beat” could be a Kate Bush / Neneh Cherry collab
(and the bonus Nick Holder remix is a nice touch). That’s just the first five
songs. “Kids are Talking” is a stunning electro new wave ballad anchored by
what seems to be an electric marimba. Most of “The Do” is scored soley by a
string quartet. All the other tracks? A mix of all of the above. There is
nothing on either the long list or the shortlist that approaches the breadth of
Every Opposite.
Ambition
alone doesn’t cut it, of course. Ibrahim’s sci-fi soul music is anchored
throughout by her absolutely stunning, sexy, pitch-perfect and powerful voice,
either in the most intimate moments or in ecstatic release. The songwriting is
strong; the arrangements and production are even better. Some of this is
definitely easier on the ears; there are some lovely coffee-shop tracks on
here, if you will, though even those have deceptively complex beats underneath
them. And elsewhere Ibrahim doesn’t shy away from harsher tones or toying with
song structure.
This is the
album I’m most proud of for making it this far. And it’s the one I’m really
pulling for next Monday night, because it deserves to win. And by no means just
because it’s the clear underdog. It’s also the best.
And I’m not
just saying that because I kind of have a thing for gap teeth.
The chances:
I’d like to
say they’re good. There’s certainly no regional bias in her favour: she grew up
in B.C. and started her career in Toronto (where some of this album’s producers
reside) but it’s safe to say she’s a total carte blanche for most jurors. Because
of that, she won’t carry any baggage into this contest, for better or worse.
Some albums here might be arguably better or more consistent, but I still think
this comes out on top.
Two of the could’ve/should’ve
beens:
The album:
I love this
album even more than I did when it came out in May; that’s a testament to the
sonic layering and emotional depth Guthrie achieves here, on his first proper
solo recording of pop music in a decade.
I’ll borrow
from my review earlier this year:
Guthrie has
re-emerge with an album that recalls the innocence, the uncertainty and the
longing of 2003—a time when Toronto and Montreal’s music scenes were bubbling
over with fantastic, unselfconscious art—and raises the bar with maturity,
wisdom and optimism: like an old friend who suddenly shows up on your doorstep,
reminds you of all your past glories together, and in so many words tells you
to buck up and prepare for all the greatness ahead. “Ran out of time making
time machines,” he sings: best not to dwell on the past or worry about the
future, but make the best of today.
Ten years in the
studio tailoring his music for other people’s demands—ad jingles, award-winning
video game soundtracks—has only deepened Guthrie’s own production aesthetic.
Rich California harmonies, synths bleeding into strings and horns, and
surprisingly funky drumming underneath folkie indie rock songs all coalesce
with a light psychedelic touch and filtered through a man who “eats, sleeps
melody.”
His supporting
players are fantastic: Pallett returns to arrange the stirring “Wish I Were
You”; Randy Lee of the Bicycles handles most of the violin work; Jordan Howard
(The Acorn, Tusks) pulls off a ripping guitar solo on “Don’t Be Torn”; the
rhythm section of drummer Evan Clarke and bassist Simon Osborne are exemplary
throughout. Guthrie mixes and matches influences effortlessly throughout: “The
Rest is Yet to Come” matches a Bonham beat with doo-wop vocals, Edge-like
textural electric guitars, R&B-style acoustic guitars, orchestral bells and
strings that shift from soaring to disco stabs, all underneath Guthrie’s
sing-song melody.
Most importantly,
the songs are fantastic. Just as one masterpiece ends, another takes its place.
Only an album that took five years to make could hope to achieve the perfection
Guthrie attains here. The denouement is a folkie acoustic cover of Nina
Simone’s “Turn Me On”; it’s lovely enough, but considering the tour de force
Guthrie has just dropped in our lap, it’s little more than exit music while
leaving the theatre. If a Nina Simone track is your throwaway number, you know
you’ve got something good going on.
Why it
didn’t make it:
It did make
the long list, but not the shortlist, which was a real stumper for me. But
that’s probably just the circles I travel in; I know that Guthrie’s last album
has a large place in the hearts of (not just most of my friends but those of)
many writers who came of age during the explosion of incredible music out of
this country during that time. Maybe a lot of those people aren’t still in the
biz, maybe they’re more excited by newer artists, or maybe Guthrie only ever
really appealed to Ontarians to begin with. Maybe it came out too late in the
qualifying period (which closed June 1, 2013). Maybe autumnal melancholy from a
procrastinating 40-year-old isn’t a good media angle. Beats me. All I know is
that when I found out this modern classic didn’t make the shortlist, I was
ready to cut the guy a $30,000 cheque myself.
Veda Hille
– Peter Panties (independent)
The album:
Jukebox
musicals can kiss my ass. Rock of Ages? American Idiot? Mamma Mia? Bite me. I’m
still smarting from the fact that Oscar voters creamed their collective jeans
over Moulin Rouge while ignoring the sheer brilliance of Hedwig and the Angry
Inch that same year. Rock
and roll can make for brilliant musical theatre, of course, and I’d posit that Veda
Hille’s Peter Panties is the only score since Hedwig that I’d voluntarily
listen to on endless repeat.
As much as
I’ve loved some (certainly not all) of Hille’s previous work, Peter Panties is
considerably more visceral and joyous than anything she’s done, in which her
cerebral approach is applied to something often downright silly. Riffing on the
Peter Pan mythology and the theme of arrested development through the prism of
Down syndrome, with nods to Macbeth, CSI, Bob Dylan and the Grease soundtrack,
Peter Panties is a rollicking rock’n’roll cabaret cast recording (expertly
captured by Vancouver wizards JC/DC) with gusto to spare. Believe it.
Why it
didn’t make even the long list:
Well, let’s
start with the title. And then let’s move to the fact that despite our
professed open-mindedness, a woman in her 40s collaborating with a Down
syndrome playwright-actor and a band of 15-year-old boys on a song cycle based
on Peter Pan isn’t, on principle, going to appeal to most people. Oh, and she
put it out herself with the bare minimum of publicity and zero visibility
outside Vancouver. Yeah, I’d say this one was a long shot.
Tomorrow:
Metric, Metz, and two more could’ve-beens.
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