This venerable Toronto
band now has 16 studio recordings under their belt (depending how you count).
This, like 2010’s Remnin Park and 1996’s Lay It Down, is easily one of their
best from the back half of their discography. It’s their first album of
original material in eight years, so maybe guitarist Michael Timmins has been
quietly crafting this strong set of songs since then, or maybe his work with
Tom Wilson’s Lee Harvey Osmond inspired him here. Or maybe they finally
realized what their secret weapon has been for 35 years now.
As a longtime fan, I’d
propose this theory: the best Cowboy Junkies albums are the ones where bassist
Alan Anton is brought to the fore. Why? Anton’s a fine bass player, but certainly
not showy, and melodic only when he needs to be. He’s less noticeable than the
musical genius of Jeff Bird, who provides musical colour on a variety of
instruments, and it’s Michael Timmins who provides most of the fireworks—subtle
and otherwise—during his guitar solos’ unique take on bluesy psychedelia, which
are still refreshingly raw after all these years, refusing to succumb to
slickness. Singer Margo Timmins is reliably consistent, engaging, and gets even
better with age (as does drummer Peter Timmins): but on the band’s lesser
records she can’t prop up a weak song on her own—and thankfully she doesn’t
have to here.
So what is it about
Anton? It’s less about what he actually plays, than the fact that when he’s up
front in the mix beside Margo, everything else that makes the Cowboy Junkies
great is dispersed judiciously for maximum effect. Less has always meant more
for this band; the more layers they pile on, they less effective they’ve been.
When those guitar swirls dance in and around Anton’s bass lines—regardless of
the tempo—they weave a magical tapestry that elevates this band above all
others in the same wheelhouse. It’s not what you have: it’s how you use it.
All that said, one of
the best songs here is the closing track, “The Possessed,” which is mostly just
Margo and a ukulele. And no, it’s not remotely twee, in part because, 30 years
after “Misguided Angel,” this band still writes great songs about Satan.
Elsewhere, All That
Reckoning is filled with the distemper of the day, with musings on hate and
fear and a chorus that goes, “Sing me a song of America.” But it never gets
clunky or preachy; Michael’s is too careful a writer to do that, and his
character studies are as vivid as always. Just like the accompanying music,
everything is in its right place.
When the Cowboy
Junkies come through your town this year—a fall jaunt starts Oct. 10 in
Kingston, with dates in Ottawa, Guelph, Burlington, Blyth, Markham, and
Collingwood—don’t take them for granted. And give the bassist some
love. (July 13)
Stream: “All That
Reckoning Pt. 1,” “Wooden Stairs,” “Shining Teeth”
These reviews ran in the Waterloo Record in July and August.
Amyl and the Sniffers – s/t (Rough
Trade)
Punk rock is tired and done; its death took place a long, long time ago
and is now a mere fashion accessory. Every once in a blue moon, however, a
scrappy guitar-bass-drums trio with a wild frontperson with maximum attitude
comes along to remind us that there is still some remaining life in the old
corpse. In 2018, that would be this band from Melbourne, Australia, fronted by
22-year-old Amy Louise Taylor from Mullumbimby in New South Wales, near Byron Bay.
Rarely are any of their songs longer than two minutes. Taylor is a firecracker.
The band doesn’t polish any of their edges, but neither are they amateurish.
Their first two Australian EPs (from 2016-17) have now been assembled into a
full-length by the Rough Trade label in the U.K., and they’re working on a
proper debut with members of psych-rock Aussie freaks King Gizzard and the
Lizard Wizard, for whom they played some opening dates this summer. Amyl and
the Sniffers headline their first North American tour this fall. They play the
Hard Luck in Toronto on Oct. 5. (Aug.
3)
Stream: “I Am Not a Loser,” “Balaclava Lover Boogie,” “Pleasure Forever”
Dirty Projectors – Lamp Lit Prose
(Domino)
A comeback? Not exactly. Dirty Projectors do not have a big enough
profile for this, their seventh record, to be considered that. But things went
off the rails on last year’s self-titled record, on which singer/guitarist Dave
Longstreth wrote exclusively and rather explicitly about his breakup with
former bandmate Amber Coffman. It was uncomfortable listening, both musically
and lyrically, and it came after two records that vaulted the band from
avant-garde campus radio obscurity to crossover possibility—especially when Jay
Z, Beyoncé, the Roots and Vampire Weekend professed to be fans, and Longstreth
contributed to Solange’s last record.
Lamp Lit Prose is the natural successor to 2012’s Swing Lo Magellan that the 2017 album
was not: it takes modern R&B, West African guitar, prog rock and
experimental art music and somehow crafts pop music out of all of that.
Longstreth’s lyrics are often as playful as the music (“She is so wow / Middle Earth
highbrow”), and so no matter how ambitious the music might be, it swings and
bounces and has the lyrical levity to go with it—often sung in a Prince-like
falsetto. And yet Longstreth also manages to weave in geopolitical angst
(“That’s a Lifestyle”) and clinical depression (“Zombie Conqueror”) amidst odes
to a new love and lease on life (“I Found It In U”). Despite the loss of
Coffman, there are plenty of female vocals throughout, some courtesy of guests
Haim, Empress Of, Dear Nora and The Internet’s Syd. Other cameos include Rostam
Batmanglij of Vampire Weekend and Robin Pecknold of Fleet Foxes.
If you’re new to Dirty Projectors, it can be a discombobulating listen.
But it all hangs together as pop music, with killer hooks, bright horns and
inventive rhythms that all keep you coming back for more. (July 20)
Jim James is bored easily. That’s obvious if you listen to his
discography with My Morning Jacket from top to bottom: they branched out and
evolved considerably from their quiet acoustic beginnings, into a psychedelic, reggae-tinged,
Southern rock jam band—and whatever else it is they do. James has made several
records collaborating with other songwriters, including the Monsters of Folk
project. His own solo records drew from his quieter, spookier moods.
Not this one. Uniform Distortion is a loud, sloppy rock
record, not unlike My Morning Jacket at their most raucous. Though it’s hard to
imagine that band’s broad template being a constraint of any kind, James
obviously felt the need to let his hair down and rock out on his own, to “dance
like no one’s watching,” as he sings on “Yes to Everything.” Uniform
Distortion opens with the line, “Here I stand, going through the
motions with a mic in my hand,” and he seems determined not to do that here. “I wanted it to be really
nasty and really flawed and just really human,” he told Salon. The songs were written quickly, but, with few exceptions, do not
suffer for it. Many of his
signature traits are here: the rich, country-rock vocal harmonies, the melodic
guitar solos, the best parts of ’70s rock filtered through very modern
recording techniques.
This is not an essential part of James’s discography, but it’s
definitely the most fun he’s had in the studio in a while. (Aug. 3)
Stream: “Just a Fool,” “No Secrets,” “Better Late Than Never”
Jayhawks – Back Roads and Abandoned Motels (Sony)
It’s been said before, but remains true: this band is the Blue Rodeo of
America. Long-running, plenty of lineup changes, and a fairly consistently
solid body of work. Unlike Blue Rodeo, the songwriting partnership that started
this band splintered long ago; Gary Louris has been captaining the ship ever
since. Also unlike Blue Rodeo, the Jayhawks’ tenth album is as good an entry
point as any: it’s one of their finest.
This time out, Louris draws from songs he co-wrote with other
performers: for example, two songs he wrote for the Dixie Chicks and one for
Natalie Maines’s solo album. There’s also a Jakob Dylan co-write; the others
are less illustrious. No matter, because everything here sounds like everything
the Jayhawks have always done well: country rock as pleasant as a summer
breeze, with rich harmonies from drummer Tim O’Reagan and keyboardist Karen
Grotberg, both of whom take lead duties on two songs each. Louris’s songwriting
is in even better shape than normal, perhaps because he was writing for hire.
Two new songs meet that high bar, including the disturbing “Leaving Detroit.” (July 20)
Stream: “Come Crying to Me,” “Bitter End,” “Leaving Detroit”
John
Orpheus – Goatlife (independent)
It says a lot about Canada that the closest
thing we’ve had to a
Caribbean crossover artist has been… the
Parachute Club?! I love that slightly soca-tinged pop band of the ’80s as much as
the next Canucklehead (probably a lot
more, to be honest), but in a country
with one of the biggest Caribbean festivals in
North America, one would expect that we
would have more to show than that—and Snow. We could count Drake’s attempts at dancehall, but… nah.
John Orpheus is a Trinidadian-born Torontonian,
who grew up listening to Outkast and
singing in Pentecostal and Baptist churches. He immigrated to Canada to study
English at the University of Waterloo. His debut EP (following three mixtapes
in 2017) is brimming with pop hooks,
island rhythms, and a global outlook gleaned from Ghana’s Afrobeats scene; his drummer, Sarah Jane Riegler,
travelled there to listen and learn.
Everything about Goatlife glitters: the production is totally pro, the songs are catchy as hell, and Orpheus has charisma to
burn. He has a lot to say, on and off
stage, and is more than ready for prime time.
There is no valid reason why he shouldn’t be
burning up Canadian pop charts this
summer. (Aug. 17)
Stream: “Goatlife,” “Parachute,” “Brwn Grrrl”
Santigold – I Don’t Want: The Gold Fire Session (Downtown)
This artist, who started her career as a songwriter and A&R rep, may
well be a bit of a control freak, releasing three perfect pop albums over the
past 12 years. So for fans to get this so-called “mixtape” a mere two years
after her last record is a minor blessing. What makes this a “mixtape”? That
antiquated term from hip-hop culture is all but meaningless now, in the age of
Soundcloud mixes and Drake claiming that Views was “a
playlist.” But mostly the mixtape is understood to be something tossed off
rather quickly, something released without fanfare, something that acts as a
stopgap to test out new ideas and satiate fans.
The Gold Fire Session was recorded in the final weeks of the 41-year-old artist’s recent
pregnancy, but there’s nothing here that would suggest this is some kind of
slapdash affair. Santigold writes great pop songs even when she’s clearly not
trying that hard, and her love of dancehall, roots reggae and ’80s pop combine
to make this a perfect summer record. Her main collaborator here is producer
Dre Skull, best known for his work with dancehall MCs Popcaan and Vybz Kartel,
and the Drake/Rihanna track “Too Good.” Some tracks have earlier origins with
members of Major Lazer, including one with Diplo, and several from an
unfinished movie musical with Ricky Blaze.
Santigold was on tour this summer opening for Lauryn Hill; that didn’t
work out so well, when the unreliable headliner struggled through early shows
and cancelled the rest. Which is tragic on several levels, one of which is that
audiences dismayed by the former Fugees’ performance would have gone home
singing Santigold songs instead. (Aug. 3)
Stream: “Run the Road,” “Wha’ You Feel Like,” “Valley of the Dolls”
