2020 vision on 2019's missing greats

Every year there are tons of records I miss, only to discover later—usually through the help of reading other people's year-end lists, or various wormholes I find myself falling into. Now that I'm no longer writing a weekly review column, that list is larger than usual. Here's 10 records that I wasn't aware of, or that hadn't sunk in, when I wrote my 2019 best-of, which you can read here. Best of 2020 coming soon.

 

 

 

Bon Enfant – s/t. In the shittiest year imaginable, this French-Canadian slice of psych-pop brought rays of sunshine and escapism. A windows-open, first-day-of-spring classic. This list is in alphabetical order, but Bon Enfant would be at the top even if it wasn't. I've written about it here and here. 

  

Kaytranada – Bubba (RCA). This came out in mid-December 2019, after most year-end lists were published. Why such a summer dance record would come out in December is a mystery to me, but it didn't seem to affect this Montreal DJ's upward trajectory. I wrote about it here and here. 

Lankum – The Livelong Day (Rough Trade). A traditional Irish band from Dublin who approach their material like a Gaelic Godspeed, full of drones and tension and explosions. Some incredible interpretations of traditional songs ("Katie Cruel") alongside originals ("Young People," about a suicide epidemic). This is music for life during wartime. Or, say, a pandemic. "I've been a wild rover for many's a year / And I've spent half me money drinking strong ale and beer / But now for the future I must take better care / In case that misfortune might come to my share." So stay at home and drone the fuck out with Lankum instead.  

 

Also: holy cow, this video.

Lightning Dust – Spectre (Western Vinyl). Fifteen years after Josh Wells and Amber Webber were a huge part of Black Mountain's debut album, their own project put out what might be the best record they've ever been involved in. I don't know why I first heard it and thought merely, "Oh, that's nice." The more I dove in, the more I fell in love—especially during isolation times. I wrote about it here and here.

 

Little Scream – Speed Queen. This took a while to sink in, but when it did—after seeing her live show at the Wavelength anniversary—I couldn't stop listening to it. I've written about it here and here. 

 

Little Simz – Grey Area (Age 101). A fantastic rap record by this 26-year-old London woman, moving through rock, reggae, funk, disco and even orchestral flourishes ("Venom"). She slays on the mic, with charisma not unlike Haviah Mighty, but it's the music here that really gets me: sparse, lots of live instrumentation, and thriving on raw energy. I'll admit that most UK rap is a mystery to me, with rare exceptions, but this transcends many barriers. 

Mdou Moctar – Ilana: The Creator (Sahel Sounds). I've never been a blues guy, never need to hear a rock guitar god record again in my life, and if I ever crave electric desert blues I'm happy to cling to Tinariwen's 2017 album Elwan. But hoooooollllly shit, I was not prepared for Mdou Moctor, to whose game I'm coming to quite late, despite that Purple Rain-remade-in-the-Sahara shtick from five years ago. This record is fiery and entrancing and a total trip. He was on tour and due to appear in Toronto in March, with Les Filles de Illighadad, no less, when the shutdown hit—dammit! A new record on Matador is expected next year. 

 

Junius Paul – Ism (International Anthem). This Chicago jazz bassist appeared on Makaya McCraven's 2018 album Universal Beings, and this late 2019 debut solo outing compiles recordings made with others dating back years. He's a monstrous bassist surrounded by equally killer players, and this double album shifts between funk, bop and abstractions, sometimes all in one track ("Paris"). Lots of bang for one bass. 

 

Wilco – Ode to Joy (dBpm). I haven't followed everything Jeff Tweedy and company have done in the last decade—Tweedy interests me more as a producer than as a songwriter these days—but his excellent memoir sent me back to this one repeatedly. Yes, it's a largely acoustic, middle-aged band record riding a bit of an endless bummer, but hey, that's where I'm at. 

 

 

Yola – Walk Through Fire (Nonesuch). This was almost a year old (released in Feb 2019) by the time I heard it and was completely blown away. I mean, just the first song ("Faraway Look"), on the first verse and the transition to the first chorus on is such revelatory ecstasy that it's hard to imagine the rest of the album matching it. And yet she pulls it off, again and again. Yola is a British soul singer, with a huge voice, recording in Nashville with Dan Auerbach, who gives her a lush 70s country-pop sound that matches her songs and skills to perfection. These songs are so good and timeless that I can't believe they're not all covers. And "Ride Out to the Country" became a personal fave at a time in 2020 when no one was allowed to do so.

 

2020 old friends: Regina Gently, Minotaurs, Ropes

Some lovely old friends put out lovely records in the not-so-lovely 2020, and flew under the radar. They each warm my heard for very different reasons.

Regina Gently – Don't Wait To Love Me (Cadence). Gentleman Reg is known to Canadian audiences for being the Zelig of the early 2000s indie boom for his role in Three Gut Records, Hidden Cameras, Broken Social Scene and familiar opening act for Sarah Harmer, Stars, and many others. He reinvented himself as drag performer Regina Gently in the 2010s, with a project called Light Fires, which can now be seen as growing pains that led to this fully formed electro-disco tour-de-force. He's always had a way with a great pop hook ("Good people / fucked over / again"), and here he has the production skills of Matt and Mark Thibodeau, whose vintage analog synths give this music a muscle that demands they be heard on big speakers, in DJ sets alongside early '90s house-influenced pop classics. Closing track "Do I Have To Do Everything My Fucking Self?" is a spoken-word piece lifted from Regina's one-woman drag show of the same name. The time for modest moves is over. All hail the new queen. 

 

 

 

Minotaurs – Higher Power (Maxilicious). Speaking of early 2000s MVPs, Nathan Lawr spent time in Royal City, King Cobb Steelie, Feist, Fembots, Constantines and more while also putting out a series of solid solo records. His Minotaurs project focuses on his love of Afrobeat filtered through psychedelic modern funk, as filtered through someone schooled in straight-up folk-rock songwriting. Lawr and his guest singers (Jessy Bell Smith, Steph Yates, Misha Bower) are hardly slouches, but it's the band performances and production that are the real wow factors here: this record sparkles with life, with a big, bold brass section, colourful keys, great guitar tones, and of course a killer rhythm section. Recorded live off the floor, with energy that's evident on every listen.

 

 

 

The Ropes – s/t (Wolfe Island Records). Hugh Christopher Brown and bassist Jason Mercer have played together, on and off, since high school when they co-founded the Bourbon Tabernacle Choir. They're now neighbours on Wolfe Island, outside Kingston, and formed a piano-based trio with drummer Pete Bowers, and featuring Brown's consistent primary musical partner through the ages, Kate Fenner, on many tracks. As a huge fan, I've long been waiting for Brown--normally heard on clavinet, organ or guitar--to turn to the piano for more than a song or two per album, and this doesn't disappoint. There's a rich, 70s Van Morrison feel to much of this, which feels a lot better than listening to Mr. Lockdown lately. At least half these songs rank with the best Brown has ever written, particularly "Esselen." This was made by old friends, and it sounds like it. For anyone who's ever been a fan, it feels like a joyous love letter.   

FLIP THIS: Playlist for Nov. 3 2020

Made this week during high anxiety. Much love to all my American friends, who fight the good fights every day. 

Spotify playlist is here. All YouTube links below. Mix, match, borrow, make your own. Music heals. 

 

1.  Curtis Mayfield – "If There's a Hell Below We're All Gonna Go." Among the many things I love in these lyrics ("educated fools from uneducated schools") is the fact that he delineated between "whiteys" and "crackers."

2. Angelique Kidjo – "Born Under Punches." From her amazing reimagining of Talking Heads' Remain in Light. "All I want is to breathe."

3. Arcade Fire & Mavis Staples – "I Give You Power." Recorded during the 2016 election.

4. Peaches – "Flip This." Released this summer. Kick a column, make it crumble.

5. The Comet is Coming – "Summon the Fire." No lyrics required.

6. Weaves – "#53." Hope to have the chorus of this song in my head in January 2021. Buy here.

7. Steven Page – "White Noise." Written after Charlottesville. "As an immigrant and a Jew, I'd be more than glad to replace you."

8. International Noise Conspiracy – "Smash It Up." Metaphors only, please.

9. Bodega – "How Did This Happen?" How indeed. (Buy here)

10. Queen – "Another One Bites the Dust." Looking forward to watching the Senate races.

11. Leonard Cohen – "Everybody Knows." The boat is sinking. The captain lied.

12. Amiri Baraka – "Who Will Survive America?"

13. Gil Scott-Heron – "Whitey on the Moon." For Elon Musk and those who want to market moon water.

14. Geoff Berner – "Why Don't We Take the Billionaires' Money Away?" Entirely valid question, should not be considered radical. Buy here and don't give your money to billionaires.

15. Bruce Cockburn – "The Trouble With Normal." Had this song in my head ever since the election of Rob Ford.

16. Buddy & Julie Miller, the McCrary Sisters, Steve Earle – "Let It Rain." Released in the spring of 2020 at the height of the BLM protests. Worldwide pandemic won't slow us down. Thank you, Nashville.

17. Sarah Harmer – "New Low." Every day. Buy here.

18. Arcade Fire – "Intervention." I can taste your fear. Who's going to reset the bone?

19. Handsome Furs – "What About Us." An army of thieves, lies and deceit so hard to believe. Read Sarah Kendzior's Hiding in Plain Sight.

20. EMA – "Aryan Nation." Tell me stories of famous men, I can't see myself in them. Buy here.

21. Brad Mehldau – "The Prophet is a Fool." The emperor's new clothes.

22. Damon Locks & Black Monument Ensemble – "Rebuild a Nation." From an album of beautiful, choral uplift, released in 2019. Buy here.

23. Handsome Boy Modeling School, Roisin – "The Truth." You can't hide.

24. Stars – "No One is Lost." Put your hands up if you ever feel afraid. Buy here.

25. U.S. Girls, Alex Frankel – "Overtime"

26. Melt Yourself Down – "Every Single Day"

27. James Brown – "Funky President (People It's Bad)" Stock market going up, jobs going down. 

28. Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings – "People Don't Get What They Deserve." Buy here.

29. Tune-Yards – "Bizness." Don't take my life away. 

30. A Tribe Called Quest – "We the People." Simple voodoo, so maniacal.

31. Beastie Boys – "So Whatcha Want." Where'd you get your information, huh? You think you can front when Revelation comes? I think I'm losing my mind this time. 

32. Ministry – "Thieves." Tear this MFer down.

33. Spoon – "Shotgun." 

34. Le Tigre – "Keep on Livin'." Don't let them bring you down and don't let them fuck you around.

35. Thompson Twins – "Lies." They won't forget ya.

36. Jimmy Cliff – "The Harder They Come." The harder they fall.

37. Janelle Monae – "Turntables." Got a new agenda, got a new dream, I'm kicking out the old regime. 

38. Max Romeo – "War Inna Babylon"

39. The National – "Fake Empire."

40. Karen O & Willie Nelson – "Under Pressure." One of the greatest goddam covers I've ever heard in my life. More on this later.

41. John Lennon – "Starting Over." Because despite my despair, I'm an optimist. 

Samples and stifled creativity

This man should be a household name

Backxwash won the 2020 Polaris Music Prize for her album God Has Nothing to Do With This Leave Him Out of It. In doing so, the Montreal-based Zambian-Canadian trans rapper/producer, whose album draws heavily from a metal influence, vaulted from obscurity to national headlines in the space of six months. It’s a Cinderella story, and more power to her. 

I’m not going to retell her story here. It’s a great story. You can read about Backxwash:

In Exclaim here.

At NPR here.

In Complex here.

At Bandcamp here.

In Cult MTL here. 

In Keep MTL Weird here.

The album was one of three I didn’t want to win Polaris this year, but I’m in the minority, and many people genuinely love the record. I'm not going to tell them they're wrong; art is subjective. Polaris has been controversial since its inception, as it should be. Every single year there are howls about who won and why, for wildly different reasons (Too mainstream! Too obscure! Too new! Too old! “Why does my favourite genre never win?!”). Although Polaris is not supposed to be political, it inherently is, because it’s decided by journalists, and journalists love stories. That’s not to denigrate any of the winners, including this year’s. I’m a big fan of 2/3 of all Polaris-winning records in the prize’s 15-year history, and you and I will disagree over which ones “deserved” to win or not. Hence the inherent fallacy of arts prizes in general.

This year part of the controversy is that Backxwash had to take her album off streaming services because she samples Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin liberally. As a result, the album is only available on Bandcamp as a free download. 

Michael Rancic of the web mag New Feelings (an essential read and welcome addition to the landscape of Canadian music criticism) argues that copyright laws around sampling are a farce that serve to further marginalize independent artists who can’t afford sample-clearance fees, that creativity is somehow stifled because of these legalities. The article brings up a lot of great points.

You should read that piece first: it’s here. 

There are many terrible things about copyright law: how it largely benefits the wealthiest rights-holders, how the rules keep changing to benefit baby boomers whose work from decades years ago was about to enter the public domain, etc. And when Rancic writes about AI scouring the internet for random sampling “violations,” that’s terrifying for a few different reasons. 

But the fact is, whether anyone likes it or not, once you’re in the public eye you can’t sample easily recognized works from popular music without expecting legal repercussions, and that's been true for 30 years now. 

Backxwash made her record when, it’s safe to say, she had no expectation of being featured in national and international press and being interviewed on CBC Radio’s flagship mainstream arts show next to Natalie Portman. Once the album got long-listed for Polaris, the vultures came circling. She could have removed the samples and kept the album on monetized streaming platforms. She chose not to, arguing that the samples were used for very personal reasons and she felt they told a story related to the lyrical themes of the album. That’s fair. I get that. But keeping them on there is a conscious decision to marginalize her own work, financially speaking, in the face of a legal reality--a reality worthy of debate and discussion, but a reality nonetheless.

There’s a precedent here in Polaris history. The Weeknd was an unknown artist in 2010, when he released what he billed a “mixtape,” House of Balloons, exclusively online, for free. It was inventive, fresh and fascinating, and it too made the Polaris shortlist that year, alongside Arcade Fire, Destroyer and Ron Sexsmith. It featured unauthorized samples, including Siouxie and the Banshees, Beach House, Cocteau Twins and Aaliyah. The attention and success of House of Balloons led to a major-label deal and a re-release that cleared all samples (and added songwriting credit); the Aaliyah sample was the sole exception. The album still did very well, and the Weeknd is now an international mainstream star. 

Even if House of Balloons had never been legally cleared for official release, it could have been seen as a loss leader: a stepping stone, using samples and given away for free, on the path to bigger things. 

Somewhat similarly, Kaytranada became a name in the industry with an unauthorized Janet Jackson remix in 2012 (streamed 10 million + times on his Soundcloud). That opened all kinds of doors for him, including a Juno nomination before he put out his debut album, 99.9% (which won the Polaris, and I’m not aware of any sample issues that album had). 

Small, uncleared sample snippets appear all the time in songs of varying levels of visibility. Earlier this year I asked Dan Snaith of Caribou which rapper’s voice appears all chopped up on his track “Sunny’s Time”; it’s from his new album Suddenly, which was also on the 2020 Polaris shortlist. He wouldn’t tell me, because he didn’t clear it. He did, however, clear the old, obscure soul song that provides the hook for “Home” (and I doubt anyone related to the original artist got royalties, because of crooked old publishing deals). But the “Sunny’s Time” sample is twisted beyond recognition. Is that “fair use” but the melodic hook on “Home” is not? Are both further examples of pillaging African-American artists? These are questions I don’t have answers for. “Fair use” is wide open to interpretation. But that’s where Backxwash got burned. 

Backxwash’s samples in question, Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin, are easily recognizable. Other samples on the album are not. Were I in court, I would argue that sampling Ozzy Osbourne’s voice--from the song “Black Sabbath,” howling, “Oh god, god, please god help me”--on the title track is fair game. It’s a small component of the original song in question; not the melodic hook, not the chorus, not a defining feature. Repurposed in Backxwash’s music, it’s incredibly effective. The last 10 seconds of the same song samples the opening of “War Pigs” straight up. It doesn’t add much to the Backxwash song, it’s more of a quick nod to an obvious influence. It’s superfluous. For all the legal hassle, it could easily be cut. Or simply re-sung by anyone who can do a passable Osbourne imitation; it's not like there's a copyright on that phrase.

The Zeppelin sample is on Backxwash’s “Adolescence,” the drum break from “When the Levee Breaks,” which you’ve heard even if you’re not a rock fan. Beastie Boys, Eminem, Dr. Dre, Ice-T, Neneh Cherry, the list goes on. But who’s done it since 2000? It’s a cliché at this point. Apparently Beyoncé used it on “Don’t Hurt Yourself,” from Lemonade, but it’s cut up, used only on the chorus and hardly recognizable (I didn’t even realize it was there until researching this). It’s bare naked on the Backxwash track. Small wonder that lawyers came calling. The entire track is less than 90 seconds long. Is it really that important to this album? I would argue the sample is a red herring, drawing unnecessary attention when there’s a whole lot of other things to discuss in this artist’s work, including her other, more creative samples.

There’s a rich irony here, too, in that Zeppelin--and many white musicians of their generation--often lifted African-American songs verbatim and claimed all songwriting credit (see: Zeppelin vs. Willie Dixon, or Beach Boys vs. Berry, or Gainsbourg vs. Olatunji, or, or, or...). Should anyone care about ripping off Led Zeppelin? But the principle holds. Nile Rodgers and Bernard Edwards deserve credit for “Rappers’ Delight,” which their lawyers quickly sought and got, back in 1980. Rick James deserves credit for “Can’t Touch This.” Clyde “Funky Drummer” Stubblefield should have died a multi-millionaire, instead of having his friends hold fundraisers to pay for his kidney operation. That most people don't know his name is a crime against music.

There are many creative reasons to use samples of popular songs. In 2020, I’m not convinced using them as a hook for your own song is one of them. That was different in hip-hop’s infancy, when sampling records birthed a whole new genre of music made by disenfranchised people, and necessity birthed invention. By the time of its Golden Age, I loved A Tribe Called Quest, but “Can I Kick It” bothered me just as much as “Ice Ice Baby,” because it seemed like a lazy shortcut. Ten years after that, the electronic artist Mr. Scruff lifted Moondog wholesale and made a mint licensing the track to every ad agency, which was just as bad as ’80s novelty act Jive Bunny and the Mastermixers, who simply put a medley of ’50s hits to a dance beat (a big hit at weddings). I was a huge fan of DJ Shadow’s Endtroducing until I actually heard his source material, David Axelrod et al,  and realized how much he lifted straight-up. Obscurity worked in the crate-digger’s favour back then. It’s still an impressive record, but now I admire its Kid Koala-esque technique rather than its originality or composition. (Kid Koala's first tape, which freely sampled Bjork, Ryuichi Sakamoto and others, was never sold commercially but it landed him a record deal and is available, PWYC, from Bandcamp.)

It’s now 2020. Home recording equipment and software has never been cheaper to obtain and easy to use, especially if you’re not recording acoustic instruments other than your voice. It’s not impossible to make great music, even award-winning music, out of nothing. 

Not being able to sample popular records in no way impedes someone’s creativity. It should spark even more creativity. Dig deeper.

Let’s give Backxwash the final word, in an interview with Erik Leijon for Complex Magazine: “I was experimenting to go sample-less, but as I started making these beats, they sounded cool, but the idea of the sample is telling a story, and I miss telling those stories ... With the samples, I’m connecting to those sounds. But [the sampling controversy has] changed the way I approach music. The other day I did make a beat with a Diamanda Galás sample. If I use it, I’ll just have to approach them and see how much they want for it. Now I’m going to look for more obscure sounds and field recordings and friends. That’s how I’m going to do it.”

2020 Polaris Music Prize shortlist, Day 5: Caribou, Backxwash

My annual five-part look at the shortlist examines two records a day, plus two personal picks from the qualifying period, and this year—as the prize gets older and still skews young—I’m including one veteran artist each day whose latest work risks getting lost in the shuffle.


This year we’re going in reverse alphabetical order, because, hey, everything else about 2020 is upside down.


The winner this year will be announced on Monday, October 19 in a televised ceremony featuring 10 commissioned short films, airing on CBC Gem, YouTube and social media.


Day 1, with Witch Prophet and U.S. Girls, is here. Day 2, with Jessie Reyez and Pantayo, is here. Day 3 with Lido Pimienta and Nehiyawak is here. Day 4 with Kaytranada and Junia T is here.



Day 5:

Caribou – Suddenly (Merge)

The album: It’s a bit weird that Dan Snaith gets increasingly popular the older he gets, and the longer he waits between records--especially as a so-called “electronic” artist. But dammit, he’s very good at what he does. This time out his old-school songwriting continues to develop, whether it’s warped electro-folk like bookends “Sister” and “Cloud Song,” soul-sampling pastiches like “Home,” straight-up four-on-the-floor pop songs like “You and I” (which could almost pass for Tom Petty, were it not for the absence of guitars), total psychedelic loveliness like “Magpie,” or early 90s house music like “Never Come Back.” Nothing is ever straightforward, however, or particularly faithful to genre: everything here sounds unmistakably like Caribou, with all the twists and turns that entails. 

The only thing that stops me from hailing this as his finest record, next to 2010’s Swim, is his overuse of clipped and stuttered vocal samples, which is great in small doses but is downright distracting on a track like “New Jade.” Brings back too many bad memories of 12” extended dance remix singles of the ’80s, when M-M-M-Max Headroom and P-P-P-Paul Hardcastle were both a th-th-th-thing. But that’s just me.

Bandcamp here.




The chances: Fair. It’s been long enough since his 2008 Polaris win that he might be able to shake the previous-winner curse. But I think it’s unlikely.

Backxwash – God Has Nothing to Do With This Leave Him Out of It (independent)

The album: The title track opens the album with Ozzy Osbourne moaning, “Oh no, no, please God, help me!” from the song “Black Sabbath,” and it closes with a sample of that band’s “War Pigs.” Yes, this record is bleak. It’s a metal-tinged rap record with seriously goth overtones, maybe even “horrorcore,” made by a black trans woman known to wear devil horns on stage. Which sounds great--on paper.

She is a Montreal artist, via Vancouver, via Zambia, with a little help from now-defunct Toronto duo Black Dresses, and yeah, there’s a whole lot of personality and backstory behind Backxwash. That she’s been vaulted from obscurity to pseudo-mainstream exposure (let’s face it, the mainstream doesn’t pay Polaris much mind) is a massive achievement, and one to be celebrated. Unfortunately, that also shone a spotlight on some of the uncleared samples here--you can’t exactly lift a Sabbath riff or one of the most overused drum samples in history, Led Zeppelin’s “When the Levee Breaks,” without getting some unwanted legal attention. And so the album had to be pulled off streaming services, and can only be heard on Bandcamp as a free download.

That’s the story of the album. As a listener, as a critic, I come from a considerably more privileged position, and this album is based on some very personal pain that I could never begin to understand. For starters, I got out of Christianity unscathed; Backxwash clearly did not. And as a black trans person from an immigrant family, there are entire skyscrapers of struggle to leap over for an artist to reach this place of catharsis. She says the album is about her “version of forgiveness, and things I need to face in order to reach my version of that.” The song “Into the Void” is the sound of burning everything down to the fucking ground.

And yet, as much as simplicity is the shortest path to catharsis, as generations of hardcore punk musicians know, I want the rapping here to be better, especially with such a compelling story to tell. Many of the lyrics here are--well, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. “Fuck these motherfucking fuckers.” “I fuck with black magic / I fuck with mathematics / I fuck with bad habits.” “FUUUUUUUUCK!” A whole lot of fucking rage here--not at all unwarranted or ineffective, but I think she has a lot more to say than this, and more interesting ways to say it.

I’ll be the first to admit though I'm a fan of both genres, I’m not a metal guy or a hip-hop guy; most of my favourite new records of either genre usually sound like they were made at least 20 years ago. But for a record that professes to combine the two, I don’t think it succeeds at either, and nor does it forge a new path. I’m not pining for the Judgment Night soundtrack or anything, but I want the music here to at least match the intensity of Backxwash’s delivery. Metal aside, I want the beats to be more engrossing. Backxwash helmed most of this herself, and it’s no small achievement (“Black Sheep”), but there’s a lot to develop. There’s no reason at all, in 2020, to turn to tired classic rock cliches that sound like the Beastie Boys in 1985. I’d love to hear what Backxwash could get up to with Tricky or Arca or Lotic (“Spells” makes a good argument for this).

Hopefully the Polaris nod will open up doors to opportunities as well as exposure (check this major piece on NPR). Right now it’s a story in search of a record. It’s a great story. And lo and behold, I probably spent more time listening to this record than many of the others on this list, if only to reckon with how I felt about it over the space of 800 words. So: thanks, Polaris. That’s what this should all be about.



The chances: Who knows? Stranger things have happened in Polaris history. Some winners have been accused of winning for political reasons: not coincidentally, in John A. Macdonald’s Canada, the subjects of said accusations are almost all racialized. If Backxwash were to win at this moment in time, it would certainly send a political message (which is not the point of Polaris, but whatever). Whereas a record like Jeremy Dutcher’s also had a great political backstory, it was a phenomenal record by an artist who arrived fully formed. That was also a so-called “novelty” record. You know what else is a “novelty” record? Pantayo’s. And that record rules. Maybe this does, too. Maybe.


The could’ve, should’ve beens:

Bon Enfant – s/t (Duprince)

The album: Okay, after talking about Backxwash, this is going to sound like some weak-ass shit. Because this is sunshine and roses. This is the kind of album you play on the first real day of spring, the day you open your windows and tune up your bike and start eyeing your garden. This year has sucked ass, so small wonder I’ve been drawn to music like this on any day we’re lucky to see sunlight. 

Bon Enfant are a new Montreal band featuring vocalist Daphne Brissette from previous longlisters Canailles. She's a commanding presence, a bit of a Gallic Neko Case, or Amber Webber's more extroverted Quebecois cousin. The band behind her sound like children of the '70s; synth instrumental "Ode aux pissenlits" sounds like it soundtracked a kids show on public television (Parlez-Moi or La Boite, perhaps) 40 years ago. The breadth of material here puts all Bon Enfant's strenghts on full display: the generous use of organs, pianos and synths; the harmony double-lead guitar lines that fell out of fashion with April Wine; the rhythm section that brings a powerful groove to everything, whether it's a motorik shuffle ("Aujourd'hui"), ye-ye ("Menage du printemps"), or psychedelic country soul ("L'hiver a l'annee), country boogie ("Liste noire") or the alternating 6/8 to syncopated 4/4 psychedelic Afrobeat pop of "Magpie," which sounds like the Swedish band Goat, only better. Then there's the entirely entrancing "Insomnie," a trippy slow burn featuring Brissette's best vocal performance here. 

In one of my many fantasies of post-Covid times, I'm at a cozy summer festival somewhere in the Canadian Shield with an electric crowd buzzing to a glorious live set of Bon Enfant. One has to dream. 

Bandcamp here. 


Why it didn’t even longlist: It was #1 on my ballot, for what that's worth. I tried.

Corridor - Junior (Sub Pop)

The album: The first franco band signed to Sub Pop, Corridor make it pretty clear why they’re ready for an international stage. A stew of potential influences immediately leap to mind: Television guitar interplay, Fleet Foxes harmonies, nods to Sonic Youth, traces of Stone Roses and Super Friendz. Propulsive rhythms and hypnotic guitars are the main appeal here; the vocals make it that much better. This is one of many acts on these lists that I long to have seen live this year. (I saw them cold several years ago and they blew me away.)

Bandcamp here. 



Why it didn’t shortlist: It’s always a mystery which franco acts crack the shortlist, which doesn’t happen often enough. This is yet another year without any franco representation. When Bon Enfant didn't make the long list, I put Corridor on my shortlist ballot.




Veteran MIA:

The Dears - Lovers Rock (Ting Dun)

When Murray Lightburn put out such an incredible solo album just last year, called Hear Me Out, I wondered if he would resurrect the ever-imploding Dears. But at his age, it's important not to mess with the brand and name recognition. Sadly, very few people heard that solo record. And as this record proves, there is still a lot of life in the Dears, where Natalia Yanchak is the only remaining member from their breakthrough 20 years ago. "Since all these years / is it still the same old song?" he asks. Maybe it is, but these are some of the best songs the Dears have ever written, starting with "The Worst in Us," the kind of melodic anthem they often excelled at, with a surprising and danceable bridge taking a left turn in the middle of the song. There are more orchestrations here than they've used since 2011's big-budget Degeneration Street, although Lovers Rock was recorded at their home studio and at Hotel 2 Tango (and Sam Roberts dusts off his violin for the occasion). Jake Clemons of the E Street Band (and Montreal transplant) elevates the lovely "Stille Lost" with his soaring saxophone, while some of the softer moments here ("Play Dead," "Is This What You Really Want," "Too Many Wrongs") are the most stunning. For a band that always resisted obvious Smiths comparsions, there are some decidedly '80s-sounding Johnny Marr effects on the guitars here, but at this point in time, with such a rich and varied career behind them, the Dears don't have to be so defensive. The closing track threatens "We'll Go Into Hiding." Let's hope not. 

Bandcamp here. 

That's all, folks. Thanks for reading. Thanks for listening to new Canadian music. 

Again, you can watch the Polaris "gala" on Monday night here. I'll be equally happy if either U.S. Girls, Pantayo, Witch Prophet or Junia T takes home the prize, but there's no way I'm making any kind of definitive prediction this year. 

P.S. If you enjoyed my book The Never-Ending Present, you should read this piece I wrote for Maclean's about Gord Downie's new record. 

2020 Polaris Music Prize shortlist, Day 4: Junia T, Kaytranada

My annual five-part look at the shortlist examines two records a day, plus two personal picks from the qualifying period, and this year—as the prize gets older and still skews young—I’m including one veteran artist each day whose latest work risks getting lost in the shuffle.


This year we’re going in reverse alphabetical order, because, hey, everything else about 2020 is upside down.


The winner this year will be announced on Monday, October 19 in a televised ceremony featuring 10 commissioned short films, airing on CBC Gem, YouTube and social media.


Day 1, with Witch Prophet and U.S. Girls, is here. Day 2, with Jessie Reyez and Pantayo, is here. Day 3 with Lido Pimienta and Nehiyawak is here.


Day 4

Kaytranada – Bubba (RCA)

The album: It’s good. I know that ideally all these albums should be reviewed in isolation, without regard to biography, previous work, or live show. But I loved Kaytranada’s 2016 debut, 99.9%, so much; it was a total breath of fresh air. To these ears, he brought a unique sound to modern grooves; it wasn’t hip-hop or funk or pop or R&B or house or whatever else it was described as. It was a party in a can, with some top-shelf guests. I could say all the same things about Bubba—but I’m not sure what else I would say. There are some strong guests here, especially British singer Estelle, Chicago rapper Mick Jenkins, and Jamaican-American Masego, but others sound like they’re phoning it in, and it’s the four instrumental tracks on Bubba that come out the strongest. The biggest name here, Pharrell Williams, shits the bed; his track shouldn’t have even been a B-side. So what we have here is Kaytranada doing what Kaytranada does exceptionally well, with less impressive collaborations bogging things down.



The chances: Slim. Again, as with Lido Pimienta and Caribou (and Owen Pallett, who didn’t shortlist) I think “previous winner” is a Polaris curse, even more so for a follow-up album. And Kaytranada would have had to make a better album than 99.9% to win again.


Junia T – Studio Monk (Pirates Blend)

The album: Kaytranada is hardly the only uber-funky beatmaker making waves this year. Right from the get-go, Junia T gives the previous Polaris winner a run for his money on the extremely Kaytranada-ish “Tommy’s Intro,” featuring Sean Leon and 99.9% guest River Tiber. The rest of the album maintains that standard, through different moods and singers. Jessie Reyez is the only big name here, but that’s because she appeared on a Junia T album long before her big break, and she then took him on the road as her DJ. Reyez is in fine company: Every guest here shows off big personalities—Benjamin A.D., Elijah Dax, Storry, Faiza, Toronto vet Adam Bomb and others—while never overshadowing the brilliance of Junia T’s arrangements, which draw from vintage funk, neosoul, reggae, triphop, Brazilian beats and jazz. The beats are killer; the bass lines even better. The singers are all pitch perfect. Slakah the Beatchild is behind the boards, ensuring a rich, warm, vintage sound. This album was two years in the making, and it shows: there is a deep attention to detail and mood on every track. This album should be to the next generation of Toronto what Broken Social Scene’s You Forgot It In People was to indie rock in the early 2000s.

Read Del Cowie's profile here.




The chances: Strong. The only strike against it would be Polaris rewarding two Toronto hip-hop-adjacent records in a row, which is hardly a strike at all, considering Polaris's chin-stroking, wallflower history, and that Haviah Mighty was the first rap record to win Polaris (also: any broader contextual talk like this is banned during grand jury discussions, which are about the current albums only). But this isn’t a rap record, far from it; only four of the 13 songs even feature rappers. This is a genre-averse album that should be heard far and wide.


The could’ve, should’ve beens:

Ice Cream – Fed Up (independent)

The album: These daughters of Peaches and Le Tigre bring not only next-gen feminist electro pop extraordinaire, but some serious guitar shredding, inventive programming, strong vocals and top-notch production. Opening tracks “Bun Roo” and “Peanut Butter” are fun, industrial-tinged pop songs, but “Banana Split” is seriously slinky. The title track channels dystopian Detroit soundscapes while they sing about being “queens of the void, queens of everything.” “Dove’s Cry” is a surprisingly affecting ballad over an off-kilter beat—though it’s about soap, self-image and consumerism (I think). “Not Surprising” is ghostly and ice-cold while a saxophone dances around like a snow squall. Closing track “0.22” is a Gary Numan throwback, with lyrics seemingly about a woman’s indoctrination into a cult. And—that’s it! Eight songs, ba da bing, ba da boom. 

Read Michael Rancic's piece about them in Now here.

Why it didn’t shortlist: I was surprised it didn’t. Hopefully the long list raised their profile a bit. They somehow ended up opening for Sam Roberts at a big drive-in concert by the Toronto waterfront last month.


Frazey Ford – U Kin B the Sun (Arts and Crafts)

The album: This B.C. singer has exactly the kind of voice I needed to hear this year. She returned from a six-year hiatus with her strongest solo record to date, 20 years after we first heard her in the Be Good Tanyas. She’s still mining Memphis grooves from Al Green, although this time she doesn't borrow his band like she did on 2014’s Indian Ocean. She co-wrote all this material with her Vancouver band, including longtime producer/engineer John Raham. The arrangements are incredibly sparse, usually with just a dash of piano or guitar over top the rhythm section, giving Ford’s voice room to roam. Ford sings of healing, redemption, empathy and resilience, in her unique delivery. The Aretha Franklin of the Kootenays? Let’s just say that words fail to describe the magic that is Frazey Ford. Or maybe I’m just a shitty writer. Kitty Empire at the Guardian is not, so read her live review here.



Why it didn’t even longlist: Just curious, but I’m guessing that—other than the complete anomaly that is Buffy Sainte-Marie—no mid-career woman in her 40s has ever made the long list, with the exception of the mighty Sarah Harmer this year. Am I wrong? Also: not a single artist from Vancouver, or even British Columbia, made the long list this year. (Though Backxwash grew up there before moving to Montreal.)


Veteran MIA:

Kevin Hearn – Calm and Cents (Celery Music)

This Toronto keyboardist is better known for the eclectic company he keeps (Barenaked Ladies, Lou Reed, Rheostatics, Gord Downie) than his own series of lovely solo records, which are slightly proggy pop delights with lush production. Here, as the title suggests, Hearn is in a much more placid mood. He's not here to make Yet Another Solo Piano record, though (not that he ever has, but I'd love to hear it); there's a glut in the market for that right now. Instead, he employs fellow Look People alumnus Chris Gartner on bass, superstar producer Gavin Brown on drums, and fellow auxiliary Rheostatic Hugh Marsh on drums for a largely instrumental collection. On previous records, Hearn's voice could be a dealbreaker for some; here, he uses a Vocoder to sing of environmental decay ("The Silent Collapse," "Chemical Valley"). The music is most reminiscent of the Rheostatics' Music Inspired by the Group of Seven, which Hearn co-wrote 25 years ago; Calm and Cents is a futuristic, sci-fi vision of the Canadian Shield, anchored by a piano that sounds like it was recorded in a cabin in Algonquin Park. The dub reggae backdrop of "The Nemophilist" might seem incongruous on paper, but fits perfectly into Hearn's cinematic vision. I enjoyed this record when it came out; it became a go-to record during pandemic stress.

Unrelated: be sure to watch the acclaimed and surprising documentary about Hearn's odd role in exposing an art fraud ring in northern Ontario, called There Are No Fakes. It's streaming at TVO here. 

Tomorrow: Caribou, Backxwash