2020 Top 40 pt 2: 10 more of the lower 20

10 more records from the lower 20 of my Top 40 of 2020, in alphabetical order. 

 

79rs Gang – Expect the Unexpected (independent). I can't claim to know a lot about New Orleans tradition of Mardi Gras Indians other than a well-loved copy of The Wild Tchoupitoulas in my collection. This is a band comprised of two former rival chiefs, who unite to make a thoroughly modern record steeped in deep tradition. Yes, there's yet another version of "Iko Iko" (this one called "Iko Kreyòl," with Haitian band Lakou Mizik), and a spoken word track that condenses New Orleans history into 90 second. But the rest is a welcome reset, with some help from members of Arcade Fire and LCD Soundsystem, if you need that to nudge you a bit closer. 

 

 

Allie X – Cape God (AWAL). This is a really smart, well-arranged pop record, in the realm of a more operatic Maggie Rogers. It pushes all the buttons for me that Carly Rae Jepsen should but never does. Allie X is a pop star without a radio audience of her own; she writes for BTS, Katy Perry’s a fan, and she’s been slogging it out for a while, to the point where she has more than a million streams (which is more than some Canadian acts who fill arenas). But this album is where Allie X’s classical training and craftsmanship really come to the fore. Ideally, she’d be a household name by now; in the days of Kate Bush, maybe she would have been.

Julianna Barwick – Healing is a Miracle (Ninja Tune). Yes, yes it is. And I listened to this album and others like it (collaborator Mary Lattimore's Silver Ladders) this year as a meditative balm. Even if there are times when I feel like Barwick is the new Enya, and after reading about the latter in Chilly Gonzales's treatise and Jenn Pelly's Pitchfork appreciation, I might be okay with that. 

Bloto – Kwiatostan (Astigmatic). Polish jazz from the end of the world. The drummer seems to be channelling drum'n'bass at times. The bassist plays Moog bass as often as he does electric. The keys are largely atmospheric and at times industrial, with the occasional vibraphone flourish or dark piano riff. The saxophonist plays tenor, alto, soprano and even that ridiculous Akai "electronic wind instrument." I know nothing else about this band other than that they sound like the Comet is Coming's creepier younger brothers. And it's awesome. 

Budos Band – Long in the Tooth (Daptone). Hey, remember the '70s, when there was massive political unrest, people getting shot in the street, cities were decaying, there was mass unemployment, there was a drug epidemic and institutions were breaking down? And yet people made powerful music that managed to encapsulate all that in ways both beautiful and bleak? Thank god we have the Budos Band around today. This might be their first album where no one will compare it to a '70s NYC dystopian movie soundtrack, because we're living the movie right now. At least this is a part of the soundtrack. 

 

 

Caribou – Suddenly (Merge). I wrote this in June: Dan Snaith continues to not only improve, but to remain unique in his field. I’m hard pressed to think of another electronic artist with this breadth of material in one album, from beat-less ballads to R&B pop songs to psychedelic jazz loops to early '90s house. Less rigid than his last record, this is Snaith’s most soulful and encompassing records of his long career. Suddenly is like his own greatest hits collection. 

Jennifer Castle – Monarch Season (Idée Fixe / Paradise of Bachelors). This Toronto songwriter split for Port Stanley several years ago, and so instead of the usual all-stars surrounding her, this is a true solo record. And it's perfect: guitar, piano, harmonica, and that spine-tingling voice, all sounding like they were recorded in a rural town on the coast of Lake Erie (which they were). Remembering friends in "NYC," singing about how "butterfly days are here" in the title track, writing a paean to the moon on "I'll Never Walk Alone"—these are songs for meditative moments when life slows down to a crawl. Had any of those lately? She can even lift a phrase from a well-known Motown song—Jimmy Ruffin's "What Becomes of the Broken-Hearted?"—and make it entirely her own. 

 

 

Brandy Clark – Your Life is a Record (Warner). Game respects game, which is why it's not remotely surprising that this Nashville songwriter got Randy Newman to drop by for a song called "We're Gonna Need a Bigger Boat." It's not even close to the best song here. Like him, she is a master of character portraits, rich with acerbic details and kiss-off one-liners. She sounds cynical at times, but that's the "hopeless" part of "hopeless romantic." This is ostensibly a country record, but any fan of great songwriting should get on board.

 

Alabaster DePlume – To Cy & Lee: Instrumentals Vol. 1 (International Anthem). “People have said this to me: ‘I put your music on, and it was perfect, but then you started shouting something about a pig. Can’t it just be the nice bits?'" Alabaster DePlume explained to The Quietus about why he put out an instrumental record lifted largely from his previous four albums. I knew nothing about this oddball beforehand, so I can't really comment on his pig poetry, or how this album relates to his work in music therapy, but I do know that this is a beautiful, soothing record focused mainly around a saxophone played with maximum vibrato, which suits the eastern melodies. This isn't jazz or experimental or specific to one specific cultural reference (though there are certainly nods to Ethiopian jazz); it simply sounds like open-minded, delicate players aiming for beauty. This was essential pandemic listening for me early on. 

 

 

Sarah Harmer – Are You Gone (Arts and Crafts). I wrote this back in June: The master is back. It’s been 10 years since we last heard from her, and she’ll tell you this is her best record yet. Strong words: it’s hard to top the untouchable You Were Here or I’m a Mountain. But this comeback is full of timeless gems, not the least of which is “St. Peter’s Bay.” And dammit, “New Low” is exactly the political pop song we needed in 2020; I only wish she turned up the guitars on that one in order to match the lyrical bite. Would love to hear Billy Talent take a stab at that. Can imagine Stars doing a lovely cover of "Wildlife." But can't imagine anyone but Harmer improving on the sublime "Just Get Here" or "Little Frogs" or "Take Me Out" or, or, or... ah, dammit, it's so great to hear her voice again. Her comeback might have been ill-timed from a business standpoint, but fans really needed to hear from this old friend during times like this.

  

 

Next: the top 20

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. 

My personal Polaris longlist 2020 part 1

I cast my ballot for the Polaris Prize this week. Jurors only get five slots. Almost 200 albums were suggested by fellow jury members. A long list of 40 will be published next week. As always, there’s no shortage of excellent Canadian music. But this year there’s no one album—or even three—that I feel so obviously tower above the rest. Which makes the winnowing even more difficult.

I’m not going to tell you what’s on my ballot, but these are the 40 records I considered (10 in each post). Most of these have been discussed by the Polaris jury at some point, but this is a very personal list that no one should read into deeply. Many of these will likely not make the long list, and many not mentioned here most definitely will.

Final caveat: I’m a 48yo anglo white dad who lives in Toronto with all the obvious blind spots that entails, so take all this with as many grains of salt you feel are required.

Day One (of four):

Allie X – Cape God: This is a really smart, well-arranged pop record, in the realm of a more operatic Maggie Rogers. It pushes all the buttons for me that Carly Rae Jepsen should but never does. Allie X is a pop star without a radio audience of her own; she writes for BTS, Katy Perry’s a fan, and she’s been slogging it out for a while, to the point where she has more than a million streams (which is more than some Canadian acts who fill arenas). But this album is where Allie X’s classical training and craftsmanship really come to the fore. Ideally, she’d be a household name by now; in the days of Kate Bush, maybe she would have been.

Begonia – Fear: If you’ve ever seen this woman live, you know she’s a superstar. Her debut record catches most, though not all, the charisma she exudes on stage. Her voice is enormous, a powerful instrument that threatens to overshadow everything underneath it. But the production—by a team that includes her longtime collaborators in Royal Canoe—holds its own and provides some interesting twists to the modern pop/R&B universe. Bandcamp link here.

Geoff Berner – The Grand Hotel Cosmopolis: One of the greatest songwriters in Canada is a radical eco-socialist who plays accordion, sings increasingly in Yiddish, and gathers some of the finest modern klezmer players around him. So: not primarily Polaris bait, unfortunately. This timely record is largely about the plight of the displaced, though also features a scathing take on survivalists and a song that Berner had hoped to one day play at Bernie Sanders rallies: “Why Don’t We Take All the Billionaires’ Money Away?” If that’s not the song of the year, I don’t know what is. Bandcamp link here.

Bon Enfant – s/t: This is the single biggest surprise for me this Polaris season. This psych-pop band is the Quebecois equivalent of Japan’s Kikagayu Moyo or Holland’s Altin Gun, meaning they’re a peculiar regional blend of local influences with groove-heavy psychedelia. Their debut album sounds like Black Mountain joining Plants and Animals to cover the Hair soundtrack, with a McGarrigle singing en francais. This record came out in the fall of 2019, which is too bad because it is so obviously the sound of springtime and we should all be dancing in Parc Lafontaine to this. We’re not, for so many reasons, which makes this an escapist listening experience more than anything right now. I’m feeling nostalgic for joy these days, and this record helps a helluva lot. Bandcamp link here.

Boniface – s/t: Arcade Fire’s The Suburbs is 10 years old this year. Micah Visser was 13 when it came out, and one suspects it made a deep impression. Visser, who had a few years performing under his own name before rebranding himself after his Winnipeg neighbourhood and releasing the debut Boniface album on Valentine’s Day this year. He shares with Win Butler a bittersweet melancholy for a suburban youth with ’80s alternative anthems—though in Visser’s case, probably some Robyn, Killers, and Tegan and Sara in the next-gen mix. (Don’t doubt that the ’80s are present, however—check out the album cover and font). The production is big enough to vault him on to Euro festival stages, but it’s the songwriting that really shines here, and the moments (“I Will Not Return as a Tourist”) where he sounds like he’s writing a shiny pop version of “Born to Run” for a 2020 Pride celebration. Bandcamp link here.

Bruce Peninsula – No Earthly Sound: One of my greatest musical regrets of this time is that I won’t be able to witness this band and its vital chorus of voices live any time soon. This Toronto group has been away for most of the last decade; I didn’t expect them to return. They’re a record nerds’ dream, with grooves that borrow from Afrobeat and jazzy Chicago post-rock underneath what sound like modern choral field hollers. Neil Haverty and Misha Bower trade lead vocals, but it’s the chorus behind them—a choir that once included many of Toronto’s best singers, including Snowblink, Austra and the Weather Station—that really elevates the material. The rhythm section also kicks much ass. This is a much slicker production than heard on their first two records, which suits them surprisingly well, while the raw energy still shines through. Welcome back, beautiful people. Hope to see you on a stage again some day. Bandcamp link here.

Caribou – Suddenly: Dan Snaith continues to not only improve, but to remain unique in his field. I’m hard pressed to think of another electronic artist with this breadth of material in one album, from beat-less ballads to R&B pop songs to psychedelic jazz loops to early 90s house. Less rigid than his last record, this is Snaith’s most soulful and encompassing records of his long career. Suddenly is like his own greatest hits collection. He’s one of five previous winners (Lido Pimienta, Kaytranada, Patrick Watson, Owen Pallett) with new records in this year’s eligibility period; I would not be surprised if he became the first repeat winner in Polaris history. Bandcamp link here.

Leonard Cohen – Thanks for the Dance: “Who’s moving on? Who’s kidding who?” Posthumous records deserve the bad rep they have, but this is a phenomenal exception. Son Adam Cohen proved his production mettle on You Want It Darker, and here he fleshes out his father’s final recordings, which the artist had every intention of finishing before his passing. Adam invites more guests (Daniel Lanois, Feist, Patrick Watson) and fewer chintzy synths than Cohen Sr. would ever allow. None of it sounds like something the artist wouldn’t ultimately have approved; it doesn’t tread on his well-worn template. It’s hard to top You Want It Darker, and this doesn’t—but this unexpected encore is a career coda that’s not only fitting, but entirely satisfying.

Jean-Louis Cormier – Quand la nuit tombe: Cormier won a Polaris 10 years ago with his band Karkwa, which was greeted by a collective “meh” from English Canada. But he’s making much, much more interesting music now. Recorded in L.A., Berlin and Ethiopia, Cormier ditches his guitar for keys and synths, creating a fascinating melange that draws from ’60s film soundtracks, post-Radiohead rock, Gorillaz-style global pop and more, with an unusually good drummer at the core. There are lots of twists and turns on this record, and most of them work wonderfully (the brief rap interlude, not so much). Between this and Julien Sagot’s wonderfully weird records, Karkwa’s solo projects sound better to me than the original band. Bandcamp link here.

Corridor – Junior. The third album by the first franco Quebecois band signed to Sub Pop, Junior is a rollicking, rockin’ good time of a post-punk new wave record that pulls from the Jam, early R.E.M., the fuzzier side of Sloan, and the hazier side of the Stone Roses. The rhythm section is consistently propulsive, the boy harmonies are exquisite, and the guitars pop, ring and jangle and all those other ridiculous adjectives that I no longer know how to use and probably never did. Have Corridor toured with Alvvays yet? That would be dreamy. This is yet another franco record that the anglo indie kids should be snapping up. Bandcamp link here.

Pre-Polaris, day two: Braids, Caribou

The 10^th Polaris Music Prize gala is next Monday, Sept. 21, at the Carlu in Toronto, where 11 jurors locked in a room will decide which one of these 10 artists will get $50,000 and a gig with the Toronto Symphony Orchestra in 2016. All other nominees receive $3,000.

Every day this week I’ll look at two of the shortlisted albums, assess their chances, and celebrate two albums that didn’t make the short list—or, in some cases, even the long list.

The first in this series is here.

Braids – Deep in the Iris (Arbutus)

The album:

First off, I simply cannot believe how much the piano chords that open this album remind me of the breakdown in Chalk Circle’s “April Fool” (which is almost 30 years old, by the way). Then there’s the fact that I keep hearing echoes of the Cocteau Twins. But that’s just this geezer talking. Everything else about Braids is firmly rooted in the 21^st century, as this trio becomes increasingly more electronic, anchored by the ace drummer Austin Tufts. I want to give the Polaris money to that guy alone, he’s that good.

What Braids do as a band I find admirable, but it’s incredibly heady. It seems torn between a band that deals primarily in abstracts and a band that wants to write direct pop songs. I’d rather they dive off the deep end and get as weird as they want to. When they get political, as they do on the much-praised feminist anthem “Miniskirt,” it comes off more like an earnest sociology student’s first attempt at songwriting, rather than the seasoned veterans Braids are at this point. It’s clunky, both melodically and lyrically. The rest of the album fares much better: “Taste Revised” proves their pop mettle, even if it sounds a lot like, um, Sarah McLachlan. “Getting Tired” is lovely. “Sore Eyes” is similar to Blue Hawaii, the side project for vocalist Raphaelle Standell-Preston.

Now, a Caribou remix of this entire record—that might be something. I know they already share a lot of the same synths.

The chances:

Strong. This is the kind of heavily layered album that might convince jurors with repeated listens. It’s also the brainiest record on this list. And jurors are nothing if not huge nerds.

Caribou – Our Love (Merge)

The album:

I’ve loved just about everything Dan Snaith has ever done, dating back to his 2001 debut, Start Breaking My Heart. And yet this is the first time he’s left me relatively cold. Why?

It might be that the opening track and lead singe, “Can’t Do Without You,” seems like the slightest of ideas in search of a song; once you’ve heard the three-second hook, very little else happens for the remaining four minutes. It might be that the album’s centrepiece, “Second Chance,” featuring Jessy Lanza on vocals, has this odd phase-shifting effect that actually makes me physically nauseous, and the synth tone, which appears on several other tracks, I find especially grating. Purely subjective, I realize. But several other tracks also fall flat, which is odd for a guy who doesn’t usually pad his albums with filler (he does, however, release plenty of B-sides, where he’s released as much music as can be found on his albums).

I’ll happily take four tracks here for posterity: “All I Ever Need,” “Our Love,” “Mars,” “Your Love Will Set You Free,” the latter of which makes this one of two albums on this year’s list that fulfills Polaris’s Owen Pallett quota.

The chances:

Slim. No previous winner has won again. Now that Polaris is 10 years old, that may well change in the near future. Not for this album, though.

Two of the should’ve, could’ve beens:

Bahamas – Is Afie (Brushfire)

The album:

What’s that, you say? Yet another singer-songwriter from the land of Gordon Lightfoot and Neil Young and Leonard Cohen who writes beautiful songs and sings them in a cracked late night voice and pulls in some string sections and female backing vocalists and whose guitar skills are better appreciate live than on his subtle recordings? Surely we’ve heard this story before. And yet, so precious few do this as well as Afie Jurvanen, and this is his finest album to date.

My August 2014 review:

Another singer/songwriter album, another dozen love songs—except that this one sets the bar considerably higher, right from the opening lyrics: “I held your breath inside my lungs for days / and I saw myself as just one of many waves / when I knew I’d become the ocean’s slave / I just stayed.”  Afie Jurvanen recorded his first two (highly acclaimed) albums in the space of a week each. On this, his third, Jurvanen spent a whole summer in a studio. His love of late-night sessions fuelled by Willie Nelson and wine hasn’t changed; nor has his modest reluctance to showcase his skills as a soloist. But the extra attention to detail is obvious in every carefully constructed track, from the lovely vocal arrangements to the occasional string section to just the right amount of space left inside every song: Bahamas is all about the subtle charms, the soft sell.

Qualifier: there are two total stinkers on this otherwise flawless record. One is the single “All the Time,” the whining guitar riff of which wore out its welcome by the third time I’d heard it. The other is “Record Store Girl,” which is far too cutesy and out of character—or maybe this song just makes me feel self-conscious and uncomfortable because, just like some cliché devotee of High Fidelity, I’ve always had an inherent crush on just about any female employee of a record store I’ve ever met. Doesn’t mean I’d write a song about it, though.

Fun game: pronounce "Bahamas" by combining Ebenezer Scrooge and the Palestinian organization. 

Why it didn’t make the short list:

Excellent question. This was the first album of the Polaris qualifying period I heard that I felt was a shoo-in.

Amelia Curran – They Promised You Mercy (Six Shooter)

The album: I want to transform this album into a blanket and wrap it around me in my darkest moments. Such is the power of Curran’s voice and her songs. My November 2014 review:

The East Coast’s Amelia Curran has been stopping listeners dead in their tracks ever since her 2008 album War Brides brought her to national attention. Until now, her approach has been relatively bare bones; this, on the other hand, is a full-blown rock record by comparison, full of ringing electric guitars, powerful drums, strings (by Drew Jurecka, of Jill Barber’s band), horns (by Bryden Baird, of Feist’s band), lap steel, accordion, and some stunning jazz piano and organ work by Aaron Davis (Holly Cole Trio).  If you’re a folkie singer/songwriter looking to expand your sound, you’d be hard pressed to find a better producer than ex-Rheostatic Michael Phillip Wojewoda, a man who’s worked in almost every genre of music and knows how to capture dynamics. Your song that sounds perfect with just your own stunning voice and minimal guitar accompaniment sounds even better with what Wojewoda decides to add and how he does it.  Curran herself is a master of empathy, the kind of voice you need to hear in your darkest moments, the kind of voice that has lived through mood disorders and anxiety (the topic of a current public awareness campaign she’s spearheaded) and reaches out in song.

Here, with the help of many friends, a variety of tempos and textures ensure that it’s not a dour affair. It’s much more than that: it’s a powerful record by a major artist.

Listen to “I Am the Night,” “Song on the Radio,” “Somebody Somewhere” or “Coming For You” or “Never Say Goodbye”—hell, just listen to the whole damn thing.

Why it didn’t even make the long list: 

Total mystery. She’s made the Polaris long list before, back in 2010. She has a powerful indie (Six Shooter, home to last year’s winner, Tagaq) behind her. She has Wojewoda behind the boards. She made news with her mental health campaign. She has heaps of ECMAs and Juno nods and is up for four Canadian Folk Awards in November. And yet she was snubbed at Polaris for what is her finest record to date? Weird. As Joni would say: "Oh, Amelia, it was just a false alarm."