Polaris predictions 2021

The Polaris Music Prize is always big deal to me, but this year, I don't have a lot of time to dive deep, for myriad reasons. 

Apparently neither does anyone else: with the exception of event sponsor CBC Music (now run by Polaris founder Steve Jordan), I'm not sure I've seen a single piece anywhere analyzing the shortlist. A shortlist, by the way, that for the first time doesn't have any white men on it—coincidence? A nation's culture reveals itself by the stories it can't be bothered to tell. Are editors increasingly allergic to Polaris the less white, the more left-field it gets?! I say this every year, but why doesn't Polaris get the same media attention as the Giller prize for literature, which features just as many underdogs? 

Whether or not anyone is writing about Polaris this year, I'm happy it's championing the music that it is. 

If the shortlist was entirely up to me, a 50-year-old white man in Toronto, it would look like this:

Alias Ensemble - A Splendour of Heart. An unbelievably gorgeous folk record, with exceptional playing and a stunning presence in singer Kelly Sloan. Available only on Bandcamp.

Kathleen Edwards - Total Freedom. Career best?

Rochelle Jordan - Play With the Changes. Retrofuturist R&B by this L.A.-via-Toronto artist, who's graduated from "most promising" to simply great. One of my favourite summer records of 2021.

Daniel Lanois - Heavy Sun. Career best?

Mustafa - When Smoke Rises. Actually on the real shortlist! See below.

Nyssa - Girls Like Me. This woman's voice is a total powerhouse: both physically and lyrically. Anthems for the new era. Few pop records in the last year have made me long for live audiences more than this one.

Allison Russell - Outside Child. The music is deceptively gorgeous; the lyrics are chilling and haunting. An incredibly powerful record, and the one I truly wish had made the shortlist so that more people here would hear it. Russell is doing very well in her adopted hometown of Nashville, however, with the likes of Brandi Carlile and Jason Isbell singing her praises—and loudly.

Leanne Betasamosake Simpson - Theory of Ice. Actually on the real shortlist! See below.

Julian Taylor - The Ridge. I've long respected Taylor as a singer, guitarist and all-around good guy in the Toronto club scene. Confession: I never loved his music. But this solo record (as opposed to his eponymous band) has become his most critically acclaimed to date (beyond borders, too), and it's no surprise why. It's a beautiful acoustic folk record that would make Jim Cuddy jealous, Taylor-made for Canadian campfires.

Yu Su - Yellow River Blue. Enchanting, psychedelic Asian-Canadian electronic music that owes a small debt to Caribou (and even some Prince and Kraftwerk). In yet another year when West Coast music is left out of this discussion, this was a rare bright light (as was the equally underrated C. Diab). 

--

And now, briefly, the actual shortlist, voted on by 199 people other than me:

Cadence Weapon - Parallel World.

Good record. Great artist. I prefer his previous two records, but whatever. I'm really, really looking forward to his memoir, out next May. And I'm excited that the veteran artist seems to be riding a new wave of buzz, thanks in part to a more direct approach in his lyrics, tapping into the current political zeitgeist. He also just signed to Kelp Management, home of Lido Pimienta, Andy Shauf, and Ada Lea. 

The chances: Strong. Many feel that this Polaris stalwart—shortlisted for the very first prize in 2006--is long overdue, and that this is the one to take it. However: "their time has come" has never been a convincing argument in the Polaris jury room.

DijahSB - Head Above the Waters.

Very strong new rap artist from Toronto. Put out two EPs in 2020; the first, called, uh, 2020, is musically stronger, I think, though this one is lyrically stronger. So who knows? I'm more interested in where they're going than where they're at right now, but this record has a lot of love. As someone allergic to trap and its derivatives, I find the arrival of a young MC actually interested in funk and groove to be inspiring.

The chances: Good. Solid underdog choice.

Dominique Fils-Aime - Three Little Words.

This Quebecois artist surprised a lot of people when her 2019 album Stay Tuned appeared on that year's shortlist. I love that record, and its predecessor, Nameless. This album, the third in some kind of trilogy (the concept is not entirely clear to me), I don't enjoy as much: it seems safer, and aimed at a much wider audience, a bit too CBC Radio Two for my taste. But it's clearly working for her. I was surprised this shortlisted, but happy that she continues to be recognized: she's a major talent.

The chances: I'd say slim.

Klo Pelgag - Notre-Dame-des-Sept-Douleurs.
Beloved in Quebec. Solid record. Incredibly well crafted and orchestrated. Leaves me a bit cold; my francophone choice this year would have been Vanille (as well as the largely instrumental acts Fly Pan Am, Population II and You Doo Right). But right from the beginning I predicted this would shortlist, because it's just that good (and accessible). As poppy as Charlotte Cardin, but with a whole lot of Anna Calvi and Owen Pallett in the mix.

The chances: Fair. It's enough of a curiosity and left-field pick for anglo jurors that it has a shot. And amidst such an odd squad of competitors, it could very well rise to the top.




Leanne Betasamosake Simpson - Theory of Ice.

Fantastic. First time I heard this, I listened on headphones as I walked the perimeter of a frozen Ontario lake not that far from where Simpson grew up. That sublime experience aside, this is a gorgeous record in which the sonic poetry, arranged in part by Jim Bryson, matches the lyrics by an acclaimed poet and novelist. This is one of several records this year, including Thanya Iyer and the Weather Station, that gave me flashbacks to Jane Siberry; could there be a looming Siberrenaissance?! (Sorry.) All that said, there is a sense of emotional distance and restraint here that I find slightly off-putting (and a bit ASMR). But there's no denying it's a great record. Theory of Ice also gets a big lift from Simpson's timely cover of Willie Dunn's "I Pity the Country": it's timely because of the sadly ever-relevant lyrics, but also because Kevin Howes's long-awaited Dunn retrospective, Creation Never Sleeps, came out this year to great acclaim. Simpson nails the song with a powerful arrangement (and vocals by her sister, Ansley), but by no means does it overshadow her own material. Bandcamp here. 

The chances: Strong. As recent years have shown, jurors are acutely interested in Indigenous voices, and Simpson's lyrical voice is incredibly strong. Part of me wants this record to win just to make Jonathan Kay angry (based on a barely-worth-mentioning Twitter fart of his last month).

Mustafa - When Smoke Rises.

Hooooooly shee-it, this is great. I'd heard the buzz about Mustafa the Poet for years; he's been in the public eye since he was 12, and has co-written songs for Shawn Mendes and Justin Bieber. But I had no idea what to expect when this debut dropped (without "the Poet"). For a concept record by a Sudanese-Canadian about the death of his friend, rapper Smoke Dawg, I did not expect it to be so folkie and influenced by Joni Mitchell and Sufjan Stevens (insert my systemically racist assumptions here, about music being made in the immigrant-heavy Toronto neighbourhood of Regent Park). This record is gorgeous: the vocals, the songwriting, the guitar playing, the production, the cameo from Mercury Prize-winner Sampha (whose supple voice is remarkably similar to Mustafa's). It's what I wanted to hear from Daniel Caesar; Mustafa is an infinitely superior songwriter, and almost as good a singer. Smarter people than me with more time on their hands can explain this record better than I can right now. Here's a great article by Nick Krewen. One thing that definitely works in its favour: economy. This is a relatively brief (by today's standards) eight-song collection, without a single dud. 

 

Update: Read this great article by Wendy Gillis and Victoria Gibson about the ongoing grief in Regent Park—important context while listening to this record.

The chances: Excellent. This year the Polaris in general was wide open; it was unusually difficult to predict both the long list and the shortlist, but this is the one record I always knew would be in the final running, despite the fact it came out days before the deadline. I'm almost certain it will win—and I only include a qualifier in there because Polaris has been known to confound. But whether or not Mustafa wins, I will say what an awesome flex it is that his headlining Toronto debut is being held at Massey fucking Hall (on December 1, making him the third person to play the newly renovated hall after Gordon Lightfoot and Buffy Sainte-Marie). Never heard of him? Catch up now.

The OBGMs - The Ends.

Not for me. I don't get Pup, I don't get Metz, and I don't get this. If you do, then great. I might be too old for rock'n'roll at this point. But hats off to this band, which, to my knowledge, didn't even have a big profile in Toronto, never mind the rest of the country, before suddenly arriving on the Polaris shortlist. Fun trivia: Colanthony Humphrey is the younger brother of longlisted rapper Clairmont the Second, making them the first siblings in different acts to make a Polaris long list in the same year. (Shout out to Kate Killet for pointing that out.)

The chances: Slim. I don't think a young rock band will win Polaris; that hasn't happened in more than 10 years, and frankly I think it's unlikely to ever again.

Tobi - Elements Vol. 1.

Incredibly talented new artist who was deservedly longlisted for his debut album, and now shortlists with this follow-up. I preferred the debut; this one veers more toward mainstream R&B, and a singer this good certainly doesn't need AutoTune. But his pop shift manifests in otherwise entirely natural ways and hopefully will expand his audience. Tracks like "Dollas and Cents" would give Anderson.Paak a run for his money. There are many strong tracks here, but despite the massive talent on display I'm not convinced this is a stellar collection overall. Would still be happy to see him win, though. 

The chances: Fair. Depends a lot on the makeup of the jury, and how they weigh this against its most immediate analog, DijahSB—whose record is a lot more concise. 

The Weather Station - Ignorance.

Wanted to love this record. I do not love this record. I love the idea of this record. Tamara Lindeman works with great people. She's incredibly smart and articulate. And yet--this record puts me to sleep. But so do those late-period Talk Talk records everyone cooler than me loves so much, so make of that what you will. I do really like the singles here, particularly "Robber." But, even more so than the Leanne Simpson record, this record sounds ice cold (and equally ASMR). After going through a tumultuous year of raw emotion, I found it hard to connect to something this reserved. But I'm more than thrilled that Lindeman's years of hard work are paying off, rising from a thriving Toronto musical community that I've admired for years (ever since she was in Bruce Peninsula).

The chances: Good. There's a lot of love for this record, both at home and (FWIW) abroad. And the completely mystifying millenial fandom for Steely Dan and pristine, slick adult pop records with jazz players might help tilt opinion in the Weather Station's favour. Also, as with Cadence Weapon, there may well be the sentiment that after years of critical acclaim, that Tamara Lindeman's time has finally come: and not with a sympathy vote, but with the most successful record of her career. 

Zoon - Bleached Waves.

I've always hated shoegaze music, and calling it "moccasin-gaze" doesn't make it any better. This may well be the electronic Anishinaabe version of My Bloody Valentine's Loveless, as some claim; either way, it's not my bag. If your musical act of deconolonization is emulating the most bland music ever made by your colonizer, is that its own sort of musical statement? No idea. The woozy title track makes me physically nauseous—which may well even be the point.

The chances: Slim. I honestly can't imagine anyone being excited about this record, but that's clearly my own bias and I'm constantly told that objectivity is dead. C'mon Polaris, shock me!

15 other non-shortlisted records I really enjoyed, and if/when I have time I'll tell you more about them, if I haven't already:

Jennifer Castle - Monarch Season
C. Diab - White Whale
Fly Pan Am - Frontera (I've finally come around)
Thanya Iyer - Kind
Yves Jarvis - Sundry Rock Song Stock (I've finally come around)
Garrys - Haxan: Witchcraft Through the Ages
Greg Keelor - Share the Love
Population II - A la O Terre

Sam Roberts Band - All Of Us (career best?)
Serena Ryder - The Art of Falling Apart
Sagot - s/t
Vanille - Soleil '96
Donovan Woods - Without People
You Doo Right! - Don't Think You Can Escape Your Purpose

Could I make a playlist? Could, but won't. Not this year. I'm amazed I even pulled off this post. 

And of course there's a lot more on the longlist that I haven't talked about here. 

Happy listening! Congratulations to everyone who managed to stay alive and keep the lights on last year, never mind make amazing music. 

Polaris Music Prize, day 2: Fet.Nat, Dominique Fils-Aimé

My annual pre-Polaris summation, day two of five. Day one is here.

The shortlisters: 

Fet.Nat – Le Mal (Boiled Records)

The album:
From my February review:

This band sound like the wheels falling off Deerhoof’s touring van. Their second album, Le Mal—“the sickness”—opens with a staggered, stuttering groove that recalls Mary Margaret O’Hara’s “Not Be Alright,” if it was arranged by Mike Patton and featuring Kid Koala on turntables. The rest of the record gets weirder from there.

Vocalist JFno is muttering and snarling about something, but even if he was singing in English (he’s not) the meaning would be secondary to the way he’s integrated into the interplay between everyone else. Killer drummer Olivier Fairfield (Timber Timbre, Last Ex, Andy Shauf) is the principal driver here, his art-damaged Tony Allen licks challenging guitarist/bassist Pierre-Luc Clement to a rhythmic game of chicken, each daring each other to land on an unpredictably syncopated beat. Saxophonist Linsey Wellman skronks sporadically, popping up like a Whac-a-Mole in the rare spaces left open by Fairfield and Clement.

The most traditional track here is the dark post-punk of “Soft Purse,” and it’s less than two minutes long. It’s also the only composition that doesn’t appear here twice—ostensibly, anyway. The titles of the second half of the record are variations of the first, and though there are similarities between each version of each title, they have about as much in common as Agent Dale Cooper’s doppelgangers in Twin Peaks: The Return. Which is another way of saying: this glorious mindfuck of an album makes as much sense as you let it, depending on your willingness to surrender. "Your world is my mystery gift," sings a small chorus of women here. Right on.

Looking forward to seeing this band baffle and blow away the Toronto gala crowd on Monday. What I'd give to see them come out and play this Canadian classic, on a similar wavelength.

The chances: Normally, I’d say slim, but ever since Lido Pimienta’s win, I’d say all bets are off. It’s a strange new world, and this strange record could well climb on top. Which on the one hand would be amazing, but on the other it would further marginalize Polaris in mainstream discussions. Which is fine—maybe that would finally put an end to the think pieces about why Drake never wins. (The record-breaking pop star didn’t even longlist this year.)


Dominique Fils-Aimé – Stay Tuned! (En Soul)

The album:

From my May review:

This Haitian-Canadian Montreal singer has an audacious plan to release a trilogy exploring nothing less than “the history of African-American music,” of which this album is the second instalment. That’s a tall order, but at the very least she’s made a captivating song cycle here that showcases her spine-tingling vocals and some ace players. “There is Probably Fire” opens with gospel-tinged choral singing over minimal hand drums and clapping, before a long muted trumpet note announces a shift into an Ernest Ranglin-esque reggae groove with upright bass and jazzy piano. Each of those players are as integral to this album’s success as Fils-Aimé’s vocals, although she’s the obvious focal point. As the only credited vocalist, she’s also responsible for the layered harmonies throughout; this album’s one drawback is that she’d likely sound even better feeding off the energy of other live singers, rather than her own multitracks.

Fils-Aimé’s 2018 debut, Nameless, focused on the blues. Stay Tuned is ostensibly rooted in jazz and early R&B, with lyrics drawing from the contemporaneous civil rights movement and feminism (“You don’t treat me like the queen you keep telling me you see,” goes one line.) The next instalment will apparently delve into disco and hip-hop. But there’s a consistency between these first two records, a sound that is very much her own, a sound that pulls from modern R&B and Massive Attack descendants, albeit played on acoustic instruments. That third instalment will likely sound a lot like this one—which is to say, it will be a major work by an important new artist poised to transcend genres and generations.

Stay Tuned closes with a straight-up gospel song with the chorus, “I’ve got joy like a river in my soul.” So will the listener by the time the album’s over.

The chances: Fair. I loved this record the moment I heard it (at the suggestion of another Polaris juror). I championed it and voted for it. And yet I was shocked to see it make the shortlist. I can’t recall anything since Sarah Harmer’s I’m a Mountain, way back in Polaris’s inaugural year, that draws from pre-punk pop traditions. Fils-Aimé is steeped in jazz and blues, albeit with a decidedly modern bent, but there’s way too much upright bass, hand percussion, gospel harmonies and jazz trumpet for this to be on the shortlist, right? Maybe there’s enough resemblance to the ever-cool Sade for this to have wide cross-generational appeal; maybe those inexplicably enamoured by Charlotte Day Wilson will hear this and see the light. The closest Polaris ever got to jazz before this was the drastically different Colin Stetson and perhaps BadBadNotGood. Nothing like this. But for all my pleasant surprise, this record’s differences may well help it stand out against the competition. 



The could’ve/should’ve/would’ve beens:

Fucked Up – Dose Your Dreams (Arts and Crafts / Merge)

The album: This band won the Polaris in 2009 and were shortlisted in 2012. 2014’s Glass Boys didn’t long list, but this one did. It’s also the first Fucked Up record I’ve ever voted for, as it managed to finally convince me of this band’s greatness. Disclosure: I’ve never been drawn to this band’s style of hardcore punk, and even if I was I didn’t think Fucked Up made good studio records. Their live ferocity always seemed compromised and muffled in the studio. This one changed my mind.

An excerpt from my October review:

Dose Your Dreams is a game-changer. It is here that everything this band has worked toward comes to fruition. The production is crisp: the layers of guitars no longer muddied, the drums thunderous, the myriad extra layers expertly woven throughout. The arrangements are more creative than ever, employing atmospheric textures and harsh electronics, as well as Jane Fair’s saxophone and Owen Pallett’s strings. Most important: this record is where Fucked Up find an actual groove, as on the slinky disco of the title track (which owes debts to the Stone Roses), or the mid-tempo Springsteenian rocker “I Don’t Wanna Live In This World Anymore,” or the lilting shoegaze wash of “How to Die Happy,” or the Eno-esque weirdness of “Two I’s Closed.” There’s even a Skinny Puppy influence on the back-to-back electronic detour “Mechanical Bull” and “Accelerate.” Abraham surrenders more lead vocals than he ever has before, and the album is better for it—especially on the duet between Jennifer Castle and J Mascis on “Came Down Wrong.” Meanwhile, the traditional punk tracks (“House of Keys,” “Living in a Simulation”) are visceral, raw and anthemic fist-pumpers; some things never change, and, in fact, even get better.

Why it didn’t shortlist: I’m guessing a generational shift in jurors is one reason; Fucked Up are now a legacy act, one to be taken for granted. There’s also a political shift away from white guitar bands, which puts them at a disadvantage—although that didn’t stop (the much younger, and therefore still novel) Pup this year. Also, there was a lot of strong support for the new Voivod record, considered to be one of the best in that band’s 35-year career; there may have been some vote-splitting among jurors inclined to only have one aggressive act on their ballot. 


La Force – s/t (Arts and Crafts)

The album: This was the first record of the eligibility period that I fell in love with, and it remained at the top of my ballot six months later.

My September 2018 review:

Ariel Engle made my favourite record of 2013, In the Pines, as one-half of the duo AroarA. Five years later, on her debut as La Force, Engle has once again announced herself as a major talent—this time under a new name, and with her alone in the spotlight.

In the interim, she and her friends Leslie Feist and Snowblink’s Daniela Gesundheit formed a trio called Hydra, mainly as a social club with which Engle could play summer festivals with her newborn in tow. She then followed Feist into the latest incarnation of Broken Social Scene; Engle joined the already-crowded band on their comeback record, 2017’s Hug of Thunder, and easily carved out her own space beside the starpower of Feist and Emily Haines. Broken Social Scene also features Andrew Whiteman, who was not only Engle’s partner in AroarA, but off-stage as well. He co-wrote the music for La Force, but this is her project. She’s more than ready for her close-up.

For starters, she’s an arresting vocalist, every bit as compelling—if not more so—as her more famous friends. (The sole distraction on the album is on “Upside Down Wolf,” where she sounds remarkably like Cat Power—for an artist whose voice is so otherwise distinctive, this presumably accidental homage is somewhat jarring. It’s still a great song, though.) Her melodies are lovely, often based—as the best folk songs are—on as few chords as possible, if not just a plain drone (like the opener, “The Tide”).

But where Engle truly shines is in her rhythm: not just in the live and/or electronic percussion behind her, but in the role that every instrument plays on this record, starting with her own guitar playing. Latin rhythms often percolate underneath, not always in recognizable ways, though the bossa nova vibe of “Mama Papa” is undeniable. The overall production aesthetic is that of slick, art-rock torch music with more than a few nods to ’80s new wave (see “Epistolary Love Song”), with thoroughly modern technology; there’s nothing retro here, other than a sheer devotion to craft. As perfect as this record is, it also leaves the future of La Force wide open. This is an artist who could easily pivot in any which way: into darker corners, into sunnier settings, situated anywhere in the world.

Even though all her other projects have been with dear friends and loved ones, once this record makes the rounds, Ariel Engle’s own work will never be seen as an adjunct to someone else. Viva La Force!

Why it didn’t shortlist: There may well be juror fatigue with Broken Social Scene and their satellite projects, which is a shame because this truly does tower above anything from that camp in the last decade, with the exception of Feist. (I’m also partial to Kevin Drew’s 2014 Darlings.) Polaris is also not typically kind to mid-career artists, particularly women. The only shortlisters this year on the other side of 35 are Shad and Elisapie; the latter was previously unknown enough to be considered a new artist to most people this time out. Too bad: your forties is when life really starts to get interesting. Engle’s writing certainly confirms that.


Tomorrow: Les Louanges, Haviah Mighty, and two more should've-beens.

Dominique Fils-Aimé, Orville Peck, Jayda G

It's May and I'm preparing my Polaris Music Prize ballot. Juggling a lot of things reviewed in this space earlier—including La Force, which I'm confident will be No. 1 on my ballot—but here are some more recent releases. And I'll talk about the Snotty Nose Rez Kids in the next post.

Dominique Fils-Aimé – Stay Tuned (En Soul)

This Haitian-Canadian Montreal singer has an audacious plan to release a trilogy exploring nothing less than “the history of African-American music,” of which this album is the second instalment. That’s a tall order, but at the very least she’s made a captivating song cycle here that showcases her spine-tingling vocals and some ace players. “There is Probably Fire” opens with gospel-tinged choral singing over minimal hand drums and clapping, before a long muted trumpet note announces a shift into an Ernest Ranglin-esque reggae groove with upright bass and jazzy piano. Each of those players are as integral to this album’s success as Fils-Aimé’s vocals, although she’s the obvious focal point. As the only credited vocalist, she’s also responsible for the layered harmonies throughout; this album’s one drawback is that she’d likely sound even better feeding off the energy of other live singers, rather than her own multitracks.

Fils-Aimé’s 2018 debut, Nameless, focused on the blues. Stay Tuned is ostensibly rooted in jazz and early R&B, with lyrics drawing from the contemporaneous civil rights movement and feminism (“You don’t treat me like the queen you keep telling me you see,” goes one line.) The next instalment will apparently delve into disco and hip-hop. But there’s a consistency between these first two records, a sound that is very much her own, a sound that pulls from modern R&B and Massive Attack descendants, albeit played on acoustic instruments. That third instalment will likely sound a lot like this one—which is to say, it will be a major work by an important new artist poised to transcend genres and generations.

Stay Tuned closes with a straight-up gospel song with the chorus, “I’ve got joy like a river in my soul.” So will the listener by the time the album’s over.

Stream: “Where There Is Smoke,” “There is Probably Fire,” “Some Body”

Orville Peck – Pony (Royal Mountain / Sub Pop)

Let’s say you’re a Toronto guy with a strong lower-register who loves country crooners. You’re also queer and you love Joy Division as much as you do Johnny Cash. You know you’re unlikely to ever reach Kacey Musgraves’s level of success. You’re also unlikely to be embraced by the elders of the Canadian roots music community. At best, you’ll appeal to the same crowd as Timber Timbre, who certainly do well enough, but there’s a glass ceiling there. What do you do?

  

You dandy up in full rodeo regalia, develop a persona named Orville Peck and reveal very little about yourself—including your face, which you keep veiled behind a mask. The result: everyone is intrigued, no one asks about authenticity, and the music speaks for itself. (It also produces one of my favourite leads in a music story lately, from this Ben Rayner profile in the Toronto Star: “Orville Peck is not difficult to pick out in the crowd at Dundas West hipster haunt Get Well on a Tuesday night, as he’s the only chap in the room in a cowboy hat sipping a pint through a fringed leather bondage mask.”)

Start with the voice: Peck has a commanding presence, his low tenor enhancing the gravity of whatever it is he’s singing about. If we are to believe the little about himself that he’s revealed to the press, he’s a classically trained singer who did time on stage in London’s West End. It’s not hard to believe. There’s certainly some Ian Curtis in the mix, although Peck’s particular accent calls to mind a much more unlikely ’80s reference: Stan Ridgway of Wall of Voodoo. The ’80s loom large here: not just in the overall Twin Peaks vibe (Peck would be a shoo-in for a gig at the Bang Bang Bar featured in the series’ 2017 sequel), but in that decade’s reverb-heavy approach to country music in what was then rebranded as “roots rock”: Steve Earle, BoDeans, Blue Rodeo, R.E.M.

Twangy guitars alone do not country music make; no, it’s the melancholy balladry that puts Peck in a country tradition. A song like “Kansas (Remember Me Now)” or “Roses Are Falling” aches like Patsy Cline, devoid of the drippy string sections, as if Cline were produced by Lee Hazlewood and not Owen Bradley. And titles like “Queen of the Rodeo,” “Old River” and “Big Sky” don’t hurt, either.

There’s a danger that all of this could just add up to shallow shtick, a male counterpart to Lana Del Rey (against whom I hold no prejudice, but also have no love). But Peck is no cypher. The man’s voice has passion and personality to burn—there’s a helluva lotta Elvis in this here building. He sounds completely invested in every note here, as does his backing band (comprised largely of angular Toronto postpunk band Frigs). Even his whistling is on point.

Time to ride Peck’s pony.

Stream: “Dead of Night,” “Buffalo Run,” “Big Sky”

Jayda G – Significant Changes (Ninja Tune)

"Hey, I see you on your phone, checking out Instagram... This is the dance floor, baby! This is where you supposed to get down!" That’s the spoken chorus to “Stanley’s Get Down (No Parking on the DF),” and it’s a rallying cry that defines this entire collection of house music, filled with positive vibes, born in a West Coast Canadian music scene some describe as the “Canadian Riviera.” (That’s a new one, to these ears, anyway.)

Jayda G is a Vancouverite who now lives in (of course) Berlin, returning home only to finish her master’s degree in environmental toxicology—an area of study that surfaces via dialogue quoted in “Missy Knows What’s Up,” alongside electric bass lines that would make Chic’s Bernard Edwards proud, melodic piano lines, and pillowy Orb-like synths. For an album called Significant Changes, it’s remarkably conservative. It’s joyously old school; anything here could have been played in a DJ’s house set in 1990. Vocalist Alexa Dash elevates the tracks she’s on, but the instrumentals here are just as strong. House music isn’t normally a genre that works (for me) in an album format, but the fact that Jayda G comes close speaks to her talent—and her future.

Stream: “Stanley’s Get Down (No Parking on the DF),” “Leave Room 2 Breathe” feat. Alexa Dash, “Missy Knows What’s Up”