The following reviews ran in the Kitchener-Waterloo Record and Guelph Mercury in August and late July.
Bahamas – Pink Strat (Nevado)
Afie Jurvanen has spent the last few years playing guitar in Feist’s band, and as you might expect, there’s plenty of tasty, subtle guitar playing that is set to spacious, drowsy ditties that go down like sangria on a summer night, with appearances by Feist and some Great Lake Swimmers. What makes it even better is that Jurvanen is also a seductive singer who you can’t help but falling for, even if he croons, “Take me home/ I’ll be yours until morning/ and then leave without warning.” Many of these 12 songs are equally ephemeral, yet entirely satisfying nonetheless. (July 23, K-W Record)
Black Mold – Snow Blindness is Crystal Antz (Flemish Eye)
It’s almost better if you don’t know that this is the work of Chad Van Gaalen, the Calgarian singer/songwriter who builds instruments, records the kitchen sink at home, dabbles in electronics and does animation on the side. Here, there is nary a trace of the inventive and supremely melodic bedroom rock that colours the rest of his discography so far. In fact, an acoustic guitar doesn’t even show up until the second last track; his distinctive voice is nowhere to be heard.
Black Mold is where Van Gaalen immerses himself in synthetic soundscapes, both vintage and modern, spanning everything from Tangerine Dream up to the art school approach of Matmos to the stuttering glitches of Venetian Snares. (Little wonder that one track is titled: “Finally Someone Invented a Teleporter!”) Though he’s toyed with these textures on his singer/songwriter records, here he surrenders himself entirely—with the deceptive exception of opening track “Metal Spider Webs,” set to cello, upright bass, clarinet and Moog synthesizer. Melody is in short supply, or at least overwhelmed by pitched-up percussion and sound snippets, but such is Van Gaalen’s ear-tickling density of delights that it barely matters. (Aug. 13, K-W Record)
Chairlift – Does You Inspire You (Sony)
Chairlift won the lottery by having their song ”Bruises” (“I tried to do handstands for you”) used in an iPod commercial; its buoyant ’80s synthpop groove and charming male/female duet—the twee-est tune since Peter Bjorn and John’s “Young Folks”—is by far the main attraction on this, their uneven debut album. But there is plenty of goodness to be found here, even if the Eurocentric duo—originally from Colorado, now in Brooklyn—are at best batting .500. Vocalist Caroline Polacheck sings convincingly en francais in “Le Flying Saucer Hat”; the closing “Ceiling Wax” is space-y cinematic science fiction soundtrack material. Chairlift are never short of melody; their stumblings usually depend on how cutesy they get, with lyrics like: “the most evident utensil is none other than a pencil/ not a multi-coloured stencil.” Not that it really matters, as they’ve already scored one of the most delightful singles of 2009 (actually 2008, as this is a major label re-release) with “Bruises.” (Aug. 13, K-W Record)
Coralie Clement – Toystore (Compass)
The title Toystore refers to the fact that this trilingual French singer decided to set her third album to a sonic backdrop of instruments like the alto half-violin, a baby Farfisa organ, and slide flute—along with more “real” instruments often pegged as child-like: ukulele, xylophone, melodica and penny whistle. But there’s nothing naïve or childish about Clement’s music itself, which is confident adult pop drawing from French chanson, torch songs, jazz and folk. And when she decides to get sultry, as on the not-so-romantic duet with Etienne Daho, “Je ne sens plus ton amour,” there’s definitely no childplay involved. Babymaking, maybe. (Aug. 13, K-W Record)
Dead Weather – Horehound (Third Man)
Sex. Death. Mothers. Devilish dalliances. Ponies. The Dead Weather has it all, set to heavier-than-thou psychedelic blues.
Bandleader Jack White has always injected Zeppelinesque flourishes into his main gig, the White Stripes, so the sound of the Dead Weather isn’t a huge surprise. But White doesn’t want to be Jimmy Page—he wants to be John Bonham.
White takes drum duties here, ceding the guitar to Dean Fertita of Queens of the Stone Age. Bass is handled by Jack Lawrence from White’s first side project, the Raconteurs—which White followers should know this band trumps on every level. Lead vocals are in the sexy, sweaty hands of Alison Mosshart of The Kills, who slinks and snarls her way through this material. Together, they have instantly combustible chemistry; judging by the way they throw themselves into every ferocious note heard here.
Yet for all the monstrous moments scattered throughout Horehound, they’re interspersed with subtle, spooky touches and the occasional softer moment. Fertita spends almost as much time playing raunchy organ as he does guitar. As producer, White leaves plenty of space between every groove. This is by far the most fascinating and intricate production job of his career, as the instrumental “3 Birds” shows, partly because unlike his other projects, this band arrived with a total carte blanche, a freedom he uses wisely—and after carefully choosing his colours, there’s plenty of white space (no pun intended) remaining.
White shares many of the lead vocals with Mosshart, but she’s the one selling much of this material. “I always get the things I want,” she insists, and it’s hard to imagine anyone standing up to her after hearing her sing lines like: “I’d like to grab you by the hair and hang you up from the heavens.” (July 30, K-W Record)
John Doe & the Sadies – Country Club (Outside)
The Sadies are not only a powerhouse band on their own, but they also have a secondary career as a backing band that brings out the best in the bandleaders who hire them. That should be the case here with John Doe, who is best known as one half of the dynamic duo that fronted the ’70s L.A. punk band X; he’s spent much of the past 20 years as a rootsy singer/songwriter. The Sadies know both sides of his musical personality intimately. And yet Country Club is tepid and tame, with little of the fire and magical mystery that the Sadies do so well; shockingly, this sounds like any group of competent, faceless studio musicians. Doe is mostly singing covers, and as a vocalist he doesn’t have the kind of interpretive gifts to make that work—in fact, he often sounds as bored as we are. “Are the good times really over for good?” he asks, on Merle Haggard’s song of the same name. It certainly sounds like it here. (Aug. 27, K-W Record)
Jessie Evans – Is it Fire? (Fantomette)
Jessie Evans is a San Francisco singer from a bunch of bands you and I have never heard of. Her solo debut is out on an obscure indie label. But it doesn’t take long to fall under the sway of her electro-mambo rhythms, brought to life with her torchy vocals and melodic tenor saxophone lines. The latter conjures instant images of Martha and the Muffins, Romeo Void or any other early ’80s new wave bands (or even Condition, one of my personal favourites from the Canadian underground of that decade), though the drum machines, synth bass and electronic shadings are decidedly modern. Marimbas and accordions add to the exotica vibe that arrive via the Latin rhythms and occasional Spanish lyrics. She gets some help from former Siouxie and the Banshees member Budgie, as well as Calexico trumpeter/keyboardist Martin Wenk—a combination that hints at the breadth of influences at work here. Though the component elements of her sound are easily identifiable, Jessie Evans is one of a kind. (Aug. 13, K-W Record)
Fiery Furnaces – I’m Going Away (Thrill Jockey)
I’m Going Away appears at a time when the Fiery Furnaces seem to have exorcised their excesses and are poised to start anew. To prove it, singer Eleanor Friedberger pens all the lyrics this time out; until now, her pen had been largely dormant since her contributions to the debut, Gallowsbird Park. And not surprisingly, her comparatively simpler approach to wordplay gives these songs more room to breathe; there’s even a drum solo, reinforcing the fact that their incredibly dextrous touring band is playing an increased role in composition. There are still the abrupt tempo shifts, nods to vaudeville and rock operas, and other oddities, but Matthew seems to have chilled out somewhat.
The side effect of whatever ADD drug they’re on is that the highs are not as high as on past records. Instead, like fellow Chicagoans Wilco, they’ve settled into an almost comfortable groove that suits them well, even if it means leaving their more dramatic days behind. (Aug. 6, K-W Record)
The Flatlanders – Hills and Valleys (New West)
This slipped under the radar when it was released in March—but then again, this Texan trio of songwriters Joe Ely, Butch Hancock and Jimmie Dale Gilmore has always operated on the down-low. They formed 40 years ago, but only became an active recording band in the last decade, after each of them had achieved solo success. Together, they bring out the best in each other; Ely claims that the three of them might spend days refining one line of a verse, and that attention to craft is clear.
These sixtysomething songwriters don’t have anything to prove to anyone, but Hills and Valleys is a tour-de-force of honky-tonkin’ heartbreak and resilience. But other than the multitude of musical strengths on display, it’s the topical lyrics—at once contemporary and timeless—that sets it apart from just any pack of geezers getting together for laughs. The opening track, “Homeland Refugee,” details the ironic phenomenon of reverse migration away from the economic wasteland that is modern California, back to Texas where this generation’s grandparents once fled for the land of milk and honey.
These gentlemen have seen a lot of hills and valleys in their lifetime, but with this album they’re standing on top of a mountain. (Aug. 20, K-W Record)
Friends in Bellwoods II – Various Artists (Out of This Spark)
Two years ago, Out of This Spark was a new record label that launched with a compilation—that’s a story that’s common enough. But Friends in Bellwoods was a shockingly strong and consistent collection that documented a tightly knit Toronto group of musicians—with its tentacles in various southern Ontario communities, as well as Ottawa and Montreal—and helped introduce artists such as the D’Urbervilles, Rural Alberta Advantage, and Sebastien Grainger, as well as slightly better-known artists such as Gentleman Reg, The Acorn and Snailhouse.
All those artists return, along with new friends Basia Bulat, Timber Timbre, Final Fantasy, Bruce Peninsula and Great Lake Swimmers.
But with the exception of Snailhouse and Rural Alberta Advantage—both of whom deliver knock-out songs that stand with their best—the returning artists and marquee names all take a back seat to newcomers—and complete unknowns—such as Kite Hill (Ohbijou’s Ryan Carley), Sylvie Smith (ex-Barmitzvah Brothers, now of The Magic), Le Pigeon (featuring members of City and Colour and Rheostatics), Kate Rogers, Lisa Bozikovic, Low Notes, and Hooded Fang.
Special mention also goes to the D’urbervilles for their spirited cover of Timber Timbre’s brooding “Magic Arrow”; for all the community spirit and cross-pollination demonstrated here, it’s shocking that this circle of artists doesn’t dip into their collective songwriting pool more often.
Like any sequel, Friends in Bellwoods II doesn’t share the consistency and novelty of its predecessor, but it’s still an essential guide to one of the most creative communities in the country right now.
The album will be launched in Toronto on Friday, August 28 at Lee’s Palace, with Ohbijou, Bocce, Forest City Lovers and Evening Hymns. An all-day event will take place at the Tranzac club on Saturday, August 29 featuring Tusks, The Acorn, Great Bloomers, Kate Rogers, Bellewoods, Kite Hill, Lisa Bozokovik, The Low Notes, Snowblink, Emma McKenna, The Phonemes, The D'urbervilles, Sebastien Grainger, Bruce Peninsula, Dinghies, Kids on TV and more.
The launch continues in Guelph on September 17 at the E-Bar, featuring the D’urbervilles, Bocce and Evening Hymns, and in Waterloo at the Grist Mill on September 18 with the D’urbervilles and Evening Hymns. (Aug. 27, K-W Record)
Helado Negro – Awe-Owe (Asthmatic Kitty)
Brazilian tropicalia music is usually breezy and escapist in the first place, but in the hands of Helado Negro—who sing in Spanish, not Portugese—it’s a hallucinogenic, psychedelic experience for a mind-meltingly hot summer’s day. Bossa nova rhythms, acoustic guitars, clarinets, pipe organs, drum machines, subtle electronics and percussion all bleed together in the sun-baked vision of bandleader Roberto Carlos Lange, with some help from occasionally collaborator Guillermo Scott Herren of Prefuse 73. Little of it makes any sense; none of it has to. Aside from music, Lange has a background in visual arts and mixed media, which goes a long way in crafting this evocative and unique musical vision. (Aug. 6, K-W Record)
Jónsi & Alex – Riceboy Sleeps (XL)
Jónsi Birgisson is the alien-voiced singer of Sigur Ros, the Icelandic band who manage to make the saddest music in the world sound inspiring and triumphant. And while their latest album found them in a—relatively—upbeat mood, Birgisson had to shelve all that eternal sadness somewhere. Here, he collaborates with his partner Alex Somers to make largely ambient, droning music employing Sigur Ros’s string section (and band in their own right) Amiina and a choir. If you’ve ever found Sigur Ros to be mildly morose, Riceboy Sleeps will be insufferably slow and plodding, as nine-minute tracks go nowhere fast, not even terribly interesting as atmospheric music. For bona fide fans, well, Riceboy Sleeps is just like Sigur Ros—without the vocals, the melodies, the chord changes or most of the instruments. (July 30, K-W Record)
La Roux – s/t (Universal)
Yacht – See Mystery Lights (DFA)
The death of writer/director John Hughes has launched a sepia-toned and affectionate remembrance of his ’80s output, which—like many cultural iconography from the ’80s—is likely better appreciated from a distance rather than realizing how dated and awkward they really were. (With the awesome exception of Prince, of course: see below.)
Yacht and La Roux both revel in ’80s aesthetics; for La Roux this extends deep into singer Elly Jackson’s fashion sense as well. And while at several points in the last 10 years this might have been perceived as fresh or novel, the ’80s revival is well past its best-before date at this point. There are, of course, many acts who continue to spin creative sonic silk out that decade’s sow’s ear—Bat for Lashes and Fever Ray being the best examples in 2009. Yacht and La Roux are not in that company.
La Roux is the more popular of the two, with a high profile in its native U.K. and a recent nomination for that country’s Mercury Prize; they’ve also charted here in Canada. And yet this debut album sounds like a rejected demo from 25 years ago, full of the kind of songs that would be shoehorned into quick-buck carbon copies of John Hughes’s iconic films. The best song here, “Bulletproof,” is the only one that betrays any of Elly Jackson’s personality, and even then it only makes you want to reach for your old Yazoo records. If La Roux is to be taken seriously, then revisionist history will start claiming Heaven 17 were the misunderstood pop geniuses of the past 30 years.
Yacht are only slightly more interesting, if only because their circle of friends appears to wield some influence. One half of the duo, Jona Bechtolt, came up in Oregon’s lo-fi indie pop scene revolving around K Records, originally as one half of The Blow. And this new Yacht album is out on DFA Records, home of LCD Soundsystem, which has been responsible for some of the most exciting (albeit retro) dance music of the last decade.
Yet Yacht sound simply torn between these two worlds, trying to write twee pop songs on the one hand—with the deadpan vocals of Claire Evans feigning disinterest—and trying to sneak on to the dance floor with retro-futurist grooves that ultimately fall flat. As a result, it sounds like pop music for people who are bored of pop music; dance music for people who are bored of dancing. Which means that Bechtolt is just asking for trouble when he make the chorus of an eight-minute song out of the repeated phrase “it’s boring/ it’s boring/ it’s boring.” (Aug. 20, K-W Record)
Lightning Dust – Infinite Light (Jagjaguwar)
Amber Webber is one of the most distinctive female voices in Canada, but only here, on her second album fronting Lightning Dust, has she truly come into her own. As the female foil in the dude-fest that is psychedelic rock powerhouse Black Mountain, her supporting role doesn’t do full justice to her range and abilities. On the first Lightning Dust album, she played the part of a mournful maiden wallowing in despair.
As its title might suggest, Infinite Light is a much more luminous affair. Webber and her co-conspirator Joshua Wells keep things sparse, using little more than acoustic guitars and keyboards, but a song such as “The Times” manages to rock out using only piano power chords, bongo and a shaker. She’s still at her best on slower, noir-ish numbers that owe a debt to Nick Cave, like “Honest Man,” a duet with Wells, or the lovely, string-laden ballad “Take It Home.” But it’s when she stretches out on songs like “I Knew,” a barnburning country stomp recast for ’70s keyboards and an insistently pulsing drum machine, that she truly shines and shows off her versatility. (Aug. 6, K-W Record)
Major Lazer – Guns Don’t Kill People… Lazers Do (Downtown)
As a DJ, Diplo is one of the most influential figures of the last five years, for bringing beats from Brazil to the world, for helping launch the career of M.I.A., for putting his hometown of Baltimore on the musical map, for a steady stream of remixes, and for a lovely, understated album recorded for Ninja Tune.
As one half of Major Lazer, Diplo joins DJ Switch (M.I.A., Santigold) for a Jamaican vacation, recording at the legendary Tuff Gong studio. There, they set out to make a dancehall record—though one that was clearly made by insatiable scavengers of sound. On the opening track, “Hold the Line,” a Dick Dale guitar riff sets the tone, while horses and loons (!) and cellphones bleat and beep in the background underneath duelling dancehall MCs.
Soca, hip-hop and Brazilian beats all work their way into the mix, making Major Lazer the ideal summer mix tape. Not everything works, of course: there’s one awful excursion into Autotuned pop, and a couple of tracks delve into dancehall’s raunchier and violent side. But those are offset by the jazzy jaunt of the giddy "Mary Jane," the futuristic spy movie sounds of "Lazer Theme," and the sweet roots reggae sounds of "Can’t Stop Now."
Plenty of non-Jamaican artists have flirted with radical reinventions of dancehall (i.e. The Bug), but Major Lazer is one of the few to make a pop record in this genre that is as joyous as it is daring. (July 30, K-W Record)
Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band – Outer South (Merge)
As Bright Eyes, Conor Oberst has been a prolific one-man songwriting machine since he was 13 years old. Ironically, now that he’s started performing under his own name, he’s allowed his new bandmates in on the songwriting process, which means that Outer South—credited to Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band—features shared vocals and, frankly, songs that aren’t up to Oberst’s own standards. There are times when this is glaringly obvious—one song’s nasal chorus offers to “sleep on the air mattress with you.” But for the most part, even the weaker songs here—including some of Oberst’s—are buoyed by the Mystic Valley’s classic rock perfectionism. This is an outfit that sounds like Oberst locks them in a sauna shack for 12-hour rehearsals, working out dual guitar harmonies and vocal arrangements until their fingers bleed and their throats are shredded; every one of these dudes is a killer player, but there’s no showboating here—they’re all part of the team. Though it’s understandable that he would want to show them off, Outer South would benefit from some brevity; without a knockout track or two to match Oberst’s best, they may as well be treading water. (Aug. 27, K-W Record)
The Prince Brothers – From This Place (myspace.com/princebrothers)
The Prince Brothers may not be part of any cool clique in Toronto’s music scene, but their musical strengths speak for themselves. They specialize in straight-up ‘70s-style AM piano pop with rich harmonies and occasional country and cabaret touches—something that their peers like Ron Sexsmith, Danny Michel and countless others specialize in. Both Bryan and Eric Prince are fantastic singers, and know how to write melodies to wrap their pipes around; pianist Ben Kobayashi is an integral part of the arrangements, as responsible as the two vocalists for bringing each song to life. The only thing holding them back is that they work in an extremely crowded genre of similar mainstream acts; but they can rest assured that their songwriting chops alone are head and shoulders above the crowd. (Aug. 27, K-W Record)
Purplish Rain: A Tribute to Purple Rain – Various Artists (spin.com)
Yeah, yeah, Michael Jackson, Thriller, whatever. Have you actually listened to that album lately? (Judging by his sales figures this summer, you probably have.) A quarter century later, you can still judge a music fan on whether they’re a Michael Jackson person or a Prince person, just as the boomers had their Beatles vs. Stones wars to supposedly define a cultural divide. Both Jackson and Prince were bicultural aliens, musical omnivores and total freaks. One was sexually neutered; the other was sexually explosive. One was a chameleon who wanted to fit in everywhere; the other made everything else fit into his vision.
Which brings us to the 25th anniversary of Prince’s Purple Rain: an amusing trifle of a movie, its soundtrack is a towering classic, for reasons better suited to an essay than a brief review. The quality of this online-only tribute album is but a small testament to Purple Rain’s endurance. There are no huge names here; instead, a parade of unconventional artists take Prince’s stubborn streak to heart and reinvent his masterpiece on their own terms.
None attempt to match Prince’s bombast, with the exception of the Riverboat Gamblers’ admirable punk take on “Let’s Go Crazy.” The Twilight Singers transform “When Doves Cry” into a piano ballad, focusing on the anguish that made the single an unlikely Top 40 hit in the first place. Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings turn “Take Me With U” into a vintage soul rave-up; Mariachi El Bronx re-imagine “I Would Die 4 U” in a Mexican setting, somewhat less successfully. Lavender Diamond takes the longing of the title track, strips the histrionics and substitutes a subtlety that makes it sound like a simple John Lennon ballad—which in many ways, it is. Others (Of Montreal, Chairlift, Craig Wedren) are more faithful, but no less effective.
Best of all: it’s free (unlike Prince’s own myriad online adventures in marketing). Go to spin.com/prince; the password you need to know is “keyboardist.” (Aug. 20, K-W Record)
Jay Reatard – Watch Me Fall (Matador)
It’s easy to write off a guy who calls himself Jay Reatard. (Needless to say, it’s not his given name.) His earlier garage punk records were driven by adrenalin and little else, though they nonetheless managed to build considerable expectation for this, his first proper album for one of the biggest indie labels in the U.S. For his moment in the sun, Reatard steps up his game while maintaining his lo-fi aesthetic and proto-punk urgency, although now his songwriting is considerably stronger, lightning-quick acoustic guitars strum underneath white noise guitar solos, and Reatard’s vocals draw heavily from British Invasion-era ’60s pop. Only three of these 12 songs are over three minutes long (and even then not by much), but Reatard (do people call him that to his face?!) packs each one full of 50 years of rock’n’roll history, from rockabilly to psychedelia to punk to goth to ’90s indie rock, with maximum melody and energy at ever turn. Original? No, but this is record collector rock at its finest. (Aug. 27, K-W Record)
Rock Plaza Central - … At the Moment of Our Most Needing (Paper Bag)
It’s too bad we know that Rock Plaza Central are a group of normal Torontonians led by ex-Maritimer Chris Eaton. Because otherwise, it would be easy to imagine this album as the product of an isolated commune somewhere north of Bancroft, where everyone is raised on a diet of banjo and brass and British folk harmonies.
This, their second proper full-length as a full band, achieves a unique mystique that doesn’t fall into easy categorization: this exists removed from even the freakier sides of current folk music, to say nothing of alt-country or rock. “Handsome Men” makes lyrical references to the Rheostatics and Gordon Lightfoot, and “The Hot Blind Earth” is an obvious musical nod to Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir.” At once atmospheric and droning yet triumphant and propulsive, it’s captivating as it draws you closer in; this is not an album of background music that makes an easy first impression.
Eaton is known for being a wordsmith—his last album had a narrative concept, and he’s written two novels—but here he lets his bandmates do most of the storytelling, with Fiona Stewart’s violin in particular acting as responsible for the album’s emotional tenor as Eaton’s own voice. That warbly voice can be off-setting, but he gets plenty of vocal assistance from his motley crew, who turn the kernels of his songs into mantras sung in five-part harmony: “Don’t you believe the words of handsome men”; “When we fall far from the light/ will it make our darkness bright.” (July 23, K-W Record)
Superchunk – Leaves in the Gutter EP (Merge)
Spoon – Got Nuffin EP (Merge)
Iconic indie label Merge Records celebrates its 20th anniversary this year, and two of its latest releases are by veteran acts who show no sign of becoming dusty artifacts.
Superchunk have been laying low for the past six years, in part because half of the band have day jobs running the increasingly successful label. The last time we heard from them, they were moving away from their scrappy ’90s buoyant punk into mid-tempo songs decorated by acoustic guitars and synths. It was a maturity that suited them well, although now that they’re invigorated by the end of a long layoff, all the energy of their earlier work is again at the forefront. “Learned to Surf”—which appears in both a rocking and acoustic version—stands among their best singles, and the rest of this brief comeback also bodes well for an upcoming full-length expected later this year.
Spoon’s new EP is more like an old-fashioned 7” single: one pop song and two b-sides that pull apart and stretch the band’s already deconstructionist take on rock music. The title track is little more than a pulsing bass-and-drum pattern over which singer Britt Daniel croons while piano and ’80s-style guitar dance around underneath; hopefully there’s a LCD Soundsystem remix in the works. “Tweakers” is little more than a cut-and-paste rhythmic experiment; “Stroke Their Brains” shows that even when Spoon is on autopilot they’re still unique and entirely satisfying. (Aug. 6, K-W Record)
Wye Oak – The Knot (Merge)
More than a few musicians who start their career on a noisy bent end up adding a country twang to their sound. For young Baltimore duo Wye Oak, however, they like to throw it all against the wall at once, with songs that confound any genre expectations at all. On their superior second album, The Knot, they write dreamy songs that ache with melancholy, occasionally coloured with violin and pedal steel, but there’s always a crash of distortion waiting around the corner. Jenn Wasner’s vocals are oblivious to anything her partner Andy Stack throws at her; she sounds like a solo sad girl in her bedroom, despite the towers of guitars surrounding her. Fans of Low and Yo La Tengo will find plenty to love in the sound here, even though the songwriting doesn’t really fit into any easy category. Wye Oak’s debut was slightly promising if not generic indie rock; The Knot is the work of an accomplished, unique act. (July 30, K-W Record)
Showing posts with label Friends in Bellwoods. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friends in Bellwoods. Show all posts
Friday, August 21, 2009
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
2007 Year-End
The last of the 2007 lists are being released this week: Eye Weekly’s Cross-Canada critics’ poll and Idolator. I found that this year I really had nothing to say to sum up the year when it came to trends and whatnot; as I get older, I care less and less about what’s supposed to be cool and why.
Which is part of the reason why I’ve already whipped through two readings of Carl Wilson’s absolutely brilliant Let’s Talk About Love: A Journey to the End of Taste, which simultaneously convinces me that all other music writing is futile, and that quality music writing and criticism—at least the kind that Wilson aspires to and achieves in his book—is all the more important in a culture that is fine with simply declaring “it’s all good.”
But if I’m disillusioned by music writing, the music itself rarely let me down. Picking a Top 40 was easy, and half of that list are records that either I or everyone else wrote about excessively--check the uniformity between the Eye and Idolator polls, excepting the noble Canadian slant of the former--so much so that I don’t want to do so again here. My most predictable 20 favourites of 2007 are as follows, in alphabetical order:
The Acorn, Arcade Fire, Battles, Common, Julie Doiron, Feist, Handsome Furs, Iron and Wine, LCD Soundsystem, Miracle Fortress, Joel Plaskett Emergency, Radiohead, Rihanna, Spoon, Bruce Springsteen, Mavis Staples, Linda Thompson, Tinariwen, Amon Tobin, Weakerthans.
You know those album titles, you’ve probably already bought those records, and you love them as well you should. If you haven’t, just like Humphrey Kadaner’s Springsteen marketing campaign, I’ll give you a money-back guarantee.
But, as always, there were plenty of others that were either right off the radar and/or otherwise grossly underrated. So this is my other top 20, once again in alphabetical order:
Antibalas – Security (Anti). Where one of the greatest live bands working today stopped being a retro tribute band to 70s African funk—not that there’s anything wrong with that—and entered the 21st century with their most varied album yet.
Apostle of Hustle – National Anthem of Nowhere (Arts and Crafts). I quite like the rambling mess that was Kevin Drew’s solo album (much, much better than the rambling mess that was the last Broken Social Scene album), and of course Ms. Feist finally conquered the world like we all knew she would. But this was the most satisfying album from the BSS camp this year. Sadly, it’s also the one that seemed to get the least attention. But that's merely comparative, and unfairly at that; now they can fill Lee's Palace, and for anyone who could consistently count the audience members on one hand at Andrew Whiteman gigs in the late 90s, his success is all the more sweet.
Devendra Banhart – Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon (XL). Don’t write him off just because he’s crackers; this was tons of fun and gorgeous when he let it be. Review here.
Mark Berube – What the River Gave the Boat (Kwalu). Rainy days and Mondays don’t get this Vancouver piano boho balladeer down; hopefully the indifference of audiences outside his hometown won’t either. If Hawksley Workman weren’t such a drama queen. Review here.
Bishop Allen – The Broken String (Dead Oceans). America’s most underrated pop band, reviewed here.
Bonde Do Role – With Lasers (Domino). The most fun you could have in 2007 with your pants on. Or not. Next year: Thunderheist.
Buck 65 – Situation (Warner). The most fun this underrated master has had in a long time; apparently it was a laborious birth process with midwife/DJ Skratch Bastid, but you’d never know it. Review here.
Budos Band – II (Daptone). Some of Amy Winehouse’s headlines pointed people towards Sharon Jones and her Daptones, and hopefully those Sharon Jones fans dig even deeper to discover this powerhouse Afro-funk band from the same New York scene.
Mark Davis – Don’t You Think We Should Be Closer?/ Mistakes I Meant to Make (Saved by Radio). This is the singular most baffling obscurity of 2007: these songs sunk deep under my skin the second I heard them, and Davis’s deep, lonesome baritone has been haunting me ever since. This would even give Nick Cave the chills. Five-star reviews here... (except that Eye Weekly's site is still broken).
Deerhoof – Friend Opportunity (Kill Rock Stars). “+81” was the single of the year—all year. Seriously, since this came out in January 2007, I’ve been singing various hooks from just that one song constantly around the house, and the rest of the album is just as solid. Reviewed somewhere on the broken Eye Weekly site.
Friends in Bellwoods – Various Artists (Out of This Spark). I hate most compilations, especially scene-based compilations, and yet nearly every track on this two-disc set makes me feel ecstatic to be alive in Toronto in 2007. Focusing mostly on melancholy pop but including plenty of oddball electronics and weirdness, it’s padded with equally strong acts from Montreal, Ottawa and small town Ontario—but this is one for Toronto history books. Kudos to everyone in Ohbijou and nascent label impresario Stuart Duncan for pulling this together. Interview here. Stuart Berman’s Eye cover story is here.
Heliocentrics – Out There (Stones Throw). Why go cratedigging for obscure reissues of 70s jazz/funk/soul, when this album by DJ Shadow’s backing band bring together the best of that decade with the least embarrassing elements of 90s acid jazz and trip-hop—and please understand that my fingers are quivering as I type those terms.
Ted Leo and the Pharmacists – Living With the Living (Touch and Go). The living embodiment of the not-so-missing link between Strummer and Springsteen, and unlike those two, Leo is getting better as he gets older.
Lightning Dust – s/t (Jagjaguwar). After you get over the mass disappointment of the new Black Mountain (due out on January 22/08), go back and listen to Josh Wells and Amber Webber’s sparse and ghostly side project, where Webber is given full space to shine. Review somewhere in the gaping abyss of the Eye Weekly site.
Corb Lund – Horse Soldier! Horse Soldier! (Stony Plain). Full disclosure: I was paid to write Lund’s bio, but if even if I wasn’t I still would have gushed excessively about this record. His last album was on autopilot—it really did sound like he’d rather be playing cards—but every song here sounds like a brilliant short story set to folk melodies that have survived centuries, played by a kick-ass Albertan traditional country band. Howard Druckman gave it five stars in Eye; I would have done the same, and I’m shocked that I haven’t seen this get more press.
Paul Macleod – Bright Eyes Fade (Busted Flat). Next to Mark Davis, this is the other great mystery of Canadian pop in 2007. Paul Macleod has been one of my favourite songwriters for the last 15 years, and this is his finest studio outing to date—not that there’s that much competition, with only one other CD and an EP released in that time frame. The only time I saw him live this year—because, to my knowledge, he didn’t leave his hometown of Kitchener-Waterloo to come play Toronto—was at one of the Rheostatics’ farewell gigs, where he opened the show and helped sub in for an ailing Martin Tielli. That night he said something about the Rheos being our Beatles—but he himself has no shortage of songs that can stand beside either band’s canon. Do whatever you can to hunt this down—not because this man badly needs a break, but because you deserve to hear him.
Nifty – A Sparrow! A Sparrow! (Blocks Recording Club). The album begins with the dramatic opening theme of some B&W 1940s melodrama being sliced up with Matt Schmidt’s plaintive vocals over top, and that’s one of the more predictable moments here amidst the shuffling sub-aquatic techno, Scott Walker-esque bizarro balladry, Asian strings, analog synths, Glenn Kotche/Steve Reich-ian bell compositions, finicky electro funk and all points in between. Thoroughly satisfying.
Ghislain Poirier – No Ground Under (Ninja Tune). On the follow-up to his masterpiece underground breakthough Breakupdown, Poirier uses his new Ninja Tune platform to invite even more MCs into his bass-heavy beats borrowed and twisted from club culture around the world, and yet his instrumentals easily stand on their own. DJ/Rupture seems to be missing in action, while MIA still mystifies me herself; Poirier is the go-to guy for beats from the global pillage.
Secret Mommy – Plays (Ache). Lots of sample-based musicians are finding that live musicians are more fun to fuck with (see: Amon Tobin; ignore: Cinematic Orchestra). Vancouver’s Andy Dixon tempers the usual giddiness of his found sound plunderphonics only a tad, and comes up with a wonderfully disorienting glitch-pop album. Interview here.
Tunng – Good Arrows (Thrill Jockey). Between this and the Linda Thompson album, it was a good year for traditional British folk music—though Tunng’s electronic textures, glitchy interludes and bouncy pop songs were more Beta Band than Incredible String Band, and all the better for it. Live review here.
-end-
Which is part of the reason why I’ve already whipped through two readings of Carl Wilson’s absolutely brilliant Let’s Talk About Love: A Journey to the End of Taste, which simultaneously convinces me that all other music writing is futile, and that quality music writing and criticism—at least the kind that Wilson aspires to and achieves in his book—is all the more important in a culture that is fine with simply declaring “it’s all good.”
But if I’m disillusioned by music writing, the music itself rarely let me down. Picking a Top 40 was easy, and half of that list are records that either I or everyone else wrote about excessively--check the uniformity between the Eye and Idolator polls, excepting the noble Canadian slant of the former--so much so that I don’t want to do so again here. My most predictable 20 favourites of 2007 are as follows, in alphabetical order:
The Acorn, Arcade Fire, Battles, Common, Julie Doiron, Feist, Handsome Furs, Iron and Wine, LCD Soundsystem, Miracle Fortress, Joel Plaskett Emergency, Radiohead, Rihanna, Spoon, Bruce Springsteen, Mavis Staples, Linda Thompson, Tinariwen, Amon Tobin, Weakerthans.
You know those album titles, you’ve probably already bought those records, and you love them as well you should. If you haven’t, just like Humphrey Kadaner’s Springsteen marketing campaign, I’ll give you a money-back guarantee.
But, as always, there were plenty of others that were either right off the radar and/or otherwise grossly underrated. So this is my other top 20, once again in alphabetical order:
Antibalas – Security (Anti). Where one of the greatest live bands working today stopped being a retro tribute band to 70s African funk—not that there’s anything wrong with that—and entered the 21st century with their most varied album yet.
Apostle of Hustle – National Anthem of Nowhere (Arts and Crafts). I quite like the rambling mess that was Kevin Drew’s solo album (much, much better than the rambling mess that was the last Broken Social Scene album), and of course Ms. Feist finally conquered the world like we all knew she would. But this was the most satisfying album from the BSS camp this year. Sadly, it’s also the one that seemed to get the least attention. But that's merely comparative, and unfairly at that; now they can fill Lee's Palace, and for anyone who could consistently count the audience members on one hand at Andrew Whiteman gigs in the late 90s, his success is all the more sweet.
Devendra Banhart – Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon (XL). Don’t write him off just because he’s crackers; this was tons of fun and gorgeous when he let it be. Review here.
Mark Berube – What the River Gave the Boat (Kwalu). Rainy days and Mondays don’t get this Vancouver piano boho balladeer down; hopefully the indifference of audiences outside his hometown won’t either. If Hawksley Workman weren’t such a drama queen. Review here.
Bishop Allen – The Broken String (Dead Oceans). America’s most underrated pop band, reviewed here.
Bonde Do Role – With Lasers (Domino). The most fun you could have in 2007 with your pants on. Or not. Next year: Thunderheist.
Buck 65 – Situation (Warner). The most fun this underrated master has had in a long time; apparently it was a laborious birth process with midwife/DJ Skratch Bastid, but you’d never know it. Review here.
Budos Band – II (Daptone). Some of Amy Winehouse’s headlines pointed people towards Sharon Jones and her Daptones, and hopefully those Sharon Jones fans dig even deeper to discover this powerhouse Afro-funk band from the same New York scene.
Mark Davis – Don’t You Think We Should Be Closer?/ Mistakes I Meant to Make (Saved by Radio). This is the singular most baffling obscurity of 2007: these songs sunk deep under my skin the second I heard them, and Davis’s deep, lonesome baritone has been haunting me ever since. This would even give Nick Cave the chills. Five-star reviews here... (except that Eye Weekly's site is still broken).
Deerhoof – Friend Opportunity (Kill Rock Stars). “+81” was the single of the year—all year. Seriously, since this came out in January 2007, I’ve been singing various hooks from just that one song constantly around the house, and the rest of the album is just as solid. Reviewed somewhere on the broken Eye Weekly site.
Friends in Bellwoods – Various Artists (Out of This Spark). I hate most compilations, especially scene-based compilations, and yet nearly every track on this two-disc set makes me feel ecstatic to be alive in Toronto in 2007. Focusing mostly on melancholy pop but including plenty of oddball electronics and weirdness, it’s padded with equally strong acts from Montreal, Ottawa and small town Ontario—but this is one for Toronto history books. Kudos to everyone in Ohbijou and nascent label impresario Stuart Duncan for pulling this together. Interview here. Stuart Berman’s Eye cover story is here.
Heliocentrics – Out There (Stones Throw). Why go cratedigging for obscure reissues of 70s jazz/funk/soul, when this album by DJ Shadow’s backing band bring together the best of that decade with the least embarrassing elements of 90s acid jazz and trip-hop—and please understand that my fingers are quivering as I type those terms.
Ted Leo and the Pharmacists – Living With the Living (Touch and Go). The living embodiment of the not-so-missing link between Strummer and Springsteen, and unlike those two, Leo is getting better as he gets older.
Lightning Dust – s/t (Jagjaguwar). After you get over the mass disappointment of the new Black Mountain (due out on January 22/08), go back and listen to Josh Wells and Amber Webber’s sparse and ghostly side project, where Webber is given full space to shine. Review somewhere in the gaping abyss of the Eye Weekly site.
Corb Lund – Horse Soldier! Horse Soldier! (Stony Plain). Full disclosure: I was paid to write Lund’s bio, but if even if I wasn’t I still would have gushed excessively about this record. His last album was on autopilot—it really did sound like he’d rather be playing cards—but every song here sounds like a brilliant short story set to folk melodies that have survived centuries, played by a kick-ass Albertan traditional country band. Howard Druckman gave it five stars in Eye; I would have done the same, and I’m shocked that I haven’t seen this get more press.
Paul Macleod – Bright Eyes Fade (Busted Flat). Next to Mark Davis, this is the other great mystery of Canadian pop in 2007. Paul Macleod has been one of my favourite songwriters for the last 15 years, and this is his finest studio outing to date—not that there’s that much competition, with only one other CD and an EP released in that time frame. The only time I saw him live this year—because, to my knowledge, he didn’t leave his hometown of Kitchener-Waterloo to come play Toronto—was at one of the Rheostatics’ farewell gigs, where he opened the show and helped sub in for an ailing Martin Tielli. That night he said something about the Rheos being our Beatles—but he himself has no shortage of songs that can stand beside either band’s canon. Do whatever you can to hunt this down—not because this man badly needs a break, but because you deserve to hear him.
Nifty – A Sparrow! A Sparrow! (Blocks Recording Club). The album begins with the dramatic opening theme of some B&W 1940s melodrama being sliced up with Matt Schmidt’s plaintive vocals over top, and that’s one of the more predictable moments here amidst the shuffling sub-aquatic techno, Scott Walker-esque bizarro balladry, Asian strings, analog synths, Glenn Kotche/Steve Reich-ian bell compositions, finicky electro funk and all points in between. Thoroughly satisfying.
Ghislain Poirier – No Ground Under (Ninja Tune). On the follow-up to his masterpiece underground breakthough Breakupdown, Poirier uses his new Ninja Tune platform to invite even more MCs into his bass-heavy beats borrowed and twisted from club culture around the world, and yet his instrumentals easily stand on their own. DJ/Rupture seems to be missing in action, while MIA still mystifies me herself; Poirier is the go-to guy for beats from the global pillage.
Secret Mommy – Plays (Ache). Lots of sample-based musicians are finding that live musicians are more fun to fuck with (see: Amon Tobin; ignore: Cinematic Orchestra). Vancouver’s Andy Dixon tempers the usual giddiness of his found sound plunderphonics only a tad, and comes up with a wonderfully disorienting glitch-pop album. Interview here.
Tunng – Good Arrows (Thrill Jockey). Between this and the Linda Thompson album, it was a good year for traditional British folk music—though Tunng’s electronic textures, glitchy interludes and bouncy pop songs were more Beta Band than Incredible String Band, and all the better for it. Live review here.
-end-
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Polaris, preliminary
Critics across the country are busy assembling their ballots for the second Polaris Prize, which are due this Friday, June 22. The shortlist will be announced on July 10; the award will be given out on September 24, chosen by a jury of 10 that same night.
Last year, you may recall, Final Fantasy scored a so-called “upset” win over Broken Social Scene, Metric, New Pornographers, Wolf Parade, Sarah Harmer, and fellow underdogs Deadly Snakes, Malajube, Cadence Weapon and K’naan.
In preparing my own ballot this year, I easily came up with a shortlist of 20. I was somewhat surprised by the number of roots-related releases on my ballot; while Canada has always excelled in this genre, my own love for this music has waned in recent years—which means that the artists I love in this genre all surprised me with either the depth of their songwriting or slight twists on anticipated arrangements.
Sadly, I’m not surprised by the lack of hip-hop and electronic music on my own ballot. Much more often than not, my own love for those artists doesn’t extend to an entire album—and the whole point of Polaris is to reward the complete album as a listening experience: not scene politics, not the live show, not commercial status.
I do fear, however, that many critics in the pool will feel the same way, and that this year’s final list will be entirely devoid of anything outside the loose parameters of pop and rock. There are myriad reasons for this, among them the fact that this is what dominates the musical taste of editors and writers in this country (I can count on one hand the number of Canadian writers I trust to write about hip-hop), and by extension the publicity machines. The only Canadian hip-hop most critics hear is the stuff that shows up in their mailbox unsolicited, and I’m as guilty as anyone else.
IMPORTANT UPDATE: I have no idea why I hadn't found this excellent Canadian hip-hop site before, but it looks like a great read.
Without a major label hip-hop contender other than K-OS (whose reviews were decidedly mixed on his last album) and Brassmunk (again, mixed reviews), will we see No Luck Club, Omnikrom, Ghettosocks, Politiclive, Birdapres, Marco Polo or Isis in the final Polaris Top 10? Highly unlikely. None of them, except maybe No Luck Club, physically got to as many Canadian critics as Cadence Weapon did last year. I’d argue that credit for his Polaris nod last year was due as much to Upper Class Recording’s mailing list as the album itself.
I’d be equally shocked if a single electronic release squeaks in there. Ditto for anything that could be termed world music, jazz, or roots music that doesn’t have a foot in the indie rock world. I think we should all be paying more attention to David Dacks.
Again, however, I live in a glass house, as my shortlist of 20 will demonstrate.
Unlike Mr. Zoilus and Mr. Chromewaves, I don’t feel like announcing my final choices, but here’s the list I was working with. Five of these made my ballot. Some were disqualified for reasons of length (albums must be either eight tracks or over half an hour), citizenship, or previously released material.
Acorn – Tin Fist EP (Paper Bag). Review here.
Apostle of Hustle – National Anthem of Nowhere (Arts and Crafts). Reviewed here and here.
Arcade Fire – Neon Bible (Merge). Reviewed here. Transcripts here, here and here.
Awkward Stage – Heaven Is For Easy Girls (Mint). Article here. Full interview here.
Blood Meridian – Kick Up the Dust (Outside). Review here. Article here. Full interview here.
Mark Davis – Don’t You Think We Should Be Closer? (Saved By Radio). Reviewed here.
Angela Desveaux – Wandering Eyes (Thrill Jockey). Review here. Article here.
Julie Doiron – Woke Myself Up (Endearing). Interview here.
Feuermusik – Goodbye, Lucille (independent). Will saxophone and buckets be this year’s looped violin? A very dark horse that just might rally enough support from Toronto critics to squeak on the list.
Great Lake Swimmers – Ongiara (Nettwerk). Interview here.
Hylozoists – La Fin du Monde (Boompa).
Greg Keelor – Aphrodite Rose (Warner). Review here. (scroll way down)
Miracle Fortress – Five Roses (Secret City). A very late entry, but entirely captivating, dreamy pop that sounds like Caribou with better melodic smarts. Review forthcoming.
Phonemes – There’s Something We’ve Been Meaning To Do (Blocks Recording Club). Years in the works and well worth the wait. Though because it snuck out last month with zero promotional muscle, very few critics even know it exists.
Secret Mommy – Plays (Ache). Not sure it’s his best work, but Andy Dixon is certainly this country’s most playful electronic innovator.
Amon Tobin – Foley Room (Ninja Tune). Review here. Article here. Full interview here.
Various – Friends in Bellwoods (Out of This Spark). Interview here.
Various – Jamaica to Toronto (Light in the Attic). Gushing review of live show here.
Rufus Wainwright – Release the Stars (Geffen). Interview in the new issue of Magnet.
You Say Party! We Say Die! – Lose All Time (Paper Bag). Review here. (scroll way down)
I’m going to go out on a limb and predict what the shortlist will be. Votes have yet to be even counted, so to be absolutely clear, this is entirely conjecture on my part, based on big hunches about what will be a middle-of-the-road critical consensus.
Apostle of Hustle – National Anthem of Nowhere (Arts and Crafts)
Arcade Fire – Neon Bible (Merge)
Jim Bryson – Where the Bungalows Roam (Kelp)
Julie Doiron – Woke Myself Up (Endearing)
Feist – The Reminder (Arts and Crafts)
Great Lake Swimmers – Ongiara (Nettwerk)
Junior Boys – So This Is Goodbye (Domino)
Joel Plaskett – Ashtray Rock (Maple)
Shout Out Out Out – Not Saying Just Saying (Normals Welcome)
Sloan – Never Hear the End of It (Murder)
Trainspotters, take note: this would mean four from Toronto, two from other Ontario cities (Ottawa and Hamilton), three with strong ties to the East Coast (as opposed to none last year), none from Vancouver, one from Edmonton, two female solo artists, two pop acts that use mostly electronics but are still decidedly rockist, two albums that debuted in the top three of Soundscan, two acts signed directly to international deals. No hip-hop or francophones this year.
But I look forward to being pleasantly surprised on July 10.
Last year, you may recall, Final Fantasy scored a so-called “upset” win over Broken Social Scene, Metric, New Pornographers, Wolf Parade, Sarah Harmer, and fellow underdogs Deadly Snakes, Malajube, Cadence Weapon and K’naan.
In preparing my own ballot this year, I easily came up with a shortlist of 20. I was somewhat surprised by the number of roots-related releases on my ballot; while Canada has always excelled in this genre, my own love for this music has waned in recent years—which means that the artists I love in this genre all surprised me with either the depth of their songwriting or slight twists on anticipated arrangements.
Sadly, I’m not surprised by the lack of hip-hop and electronic music on my own ballot. Much more often than not, my own love for those artists doesn’t extend to an entire album—and the whole point of Polaris is to reward the complete album as a listening experience: not scene politics, not the live show, not commercial status.
I do fear, however, that many critics in the pool will feel the same way, and that this year’s final list will be entirely devoid of anything outside the loose parameters of pop and rock. There are myriad reasons for this, among them the fact that this is what dominates the musical taste of editors and writers in this country (I can count on one hand the number of Canadian writers I trust to write about hip-hop), and by extension the publicity machines. The only Canadian hip-hop most critics hear is the stuff that shows up in their mailbox unsolicited, and I’m as guilty as anyone else.
IMPORTANT UPDATE: I have no idea why I hadn't found this excellent Canadian hip-hop site before, but it looks like a great read.
Without a major label hip-hop contender other than K-OS (whose reviews were decidedly mixed on his last album) and Brassmunk (again, mixed reviews), will we see No Luck Club, Omnikrom, Ghettosocks, Politiclive, Birdapres, Marco Polo or Isis in the final Polaris Top 10? Highly unlikely. None of them, except maybe No Luck Club, physically got to as many Canadian critics as Cadence Weapon did last year. I’d argue that credit for his Polaris nod last year was due as much to Upper Class Recording’s mailing list as the album itself.
I’d be equally shocked if a single electronic release squeaks in there. Ditto for anything that could be termed world music, jazz, or roots music that doesn’t have a foot in the indie rock world. I think we should all be paying more attention to David Dacks.
Again, however, I live in a glass house, as my shortlist of 20 will demonstrate.
Unlike Mr. Zoilus and Mr. Chromewaves, I don’t feel like announcing my final choices, but here’s the list I was working with. Five of these made my ballot. Some were disqualified for reasons of length (albums must be either eight tracks or over half an hour), citizenship, or previously released material.
Acorn – Tin Fist EP (Paper Bag). Review here.
Apostle of Hustle – National Anthem of Nowhere (Arts and Crafts). Reviewed here and here.
Arcade Fire – Neon Bible (Merge). Reviewed here. Transcripts here, here and here.
Awkward Stage – Heaven Is For Easy Girls (Mint). Article here. Full interview here.
Blood Meridian – Kick Up the Dust (Outside). Review here. Article here. Full interview here.
Mark Davis – Don’t You Think We Should Be Closer? (Saved By Radio). Reviewed here.
Angela Desveaux – Wandering Eyes (Thrill Jockey). Review here. Article here.
Julie Doiron – Woke Myself Up (Endearing). Interview here.
Feuermusik – Goodbye, Lucille (independent). Will saxophone and buckets be this year’s looped violin? A very dark horse that just might rally enough support from Toronto critics to squeak on the list.
Great Lake Swimmers – Ongiara (Nettwerk). Interview here.
Hylozoists – La Fin du Monde (Boompa).
Greg Keelor – Aphrodite Rose (Warner). Review here. (scroll way down)
Miracle Fortress – Five Roses (Secret City). A very late entry, but entirely captivating, dreamy pop that sounds like Caribou with better melodic smarts. Review forthcoming.
Phonemes – There’s Something We’ve Been Meaning To Do (Blocks Recording Club). Years in the works and well worth the wait. Though because it snuck out last month with zero promotional muscle, very few critics even know it exists.
Secret Mommy – Plays (Ache). Not sure it’s his best work, but Andy Dixon is certainly this country’s most playful electronic innovator.
Amon Tobin – Foley Room (Ninja Tune). Review here. Article here. Full interview here.
Various – Friends in Bellwoods (Out of This Spark). Interview here.
Various – Jamaica to Toronto (Light in the Attic). Gushing review of live show here.
Rufus Wainwright – Release the Stars (Geffen). Interview in the new issue of Magnet.
You Say Party! We Say Die! – Lose All Time (Paper Bag). Review here. (scroll way down)
I’m going to go out on a limb and predict what the shortlist will be. Votes have yet to be even counted, so to be absolutely clear, this is entirely conjecture on my part, based on big hunches about what will be a middle-of-the-road critical consensus.
Apostle of Hustle – National Anthem of Nowhere (Arts and Crafts)
Arcade Fire – Neon Bible (Merge)
Jim Bryson – Where the Bungalows Roam (Kelp)
Julie Doiron – Woke Myself Up (Endearing)
Feist – The Reminder (Arts and Crafts)
Great Lake Swimmers – Ongiara (Nettwerk)
Junior Boys – So This Is Goodbye (Domino)
Joel Plaskett – Ashtray Rock (Maple)
Shout Out Out Out – Not Saying Just Saying (Normals Welcome)
Sloan – Never Hear the End of It (Murder)
Trainspotters, take note: this would mean four from Toronto, two from other Ontario cities (Ottawa and Hamilton), three with strong ties to the East Coast (as opposed to none last year), none from Vancouver, one from Edmonton, two female solo artists, two pop acts that use mostly electronics but are still decidedly rockist, two albums that debuted in the top three of Soundscan, two acts signed directly to international deals. No hip-hop or francophones this year.
But I look forward to being pleasantly surprised on July 10.
Monday, June 04, 2007
State of Hope
NXNE week in Toronto kicks off today, and Luminato continues, but I’m already exhausted and completely satiated before dipping into either.
My summer festival season started on Saturday with the Track and Field gathering. Held just outside Rockwood, Ontario (which itself is ten minutes outside of Guelph), it boasts the side of Toronto music that you rarely read about beyond the message boards. These are, for the most part, the non-careerists who spread themselves out between four or five different projects, where the will to create supercedes all else. These are the artists heard on this year’s excellent Friends in Bellwoods compilation, with only a mere handful bubbling up to anything resembling mainstream recognition (Great Lake Swimmers, Final Fantasy, Sebastien Grainger of Death From Above 1979, Ohbijou).
Helen Spitzer has a full run-down of the weekend’s events in today’s Eye Daily here.
As she points out, the highlight for many was Bruce Peninsula, a new Toronto band that’s evolved over the space of ten gigs in the last year. Rooted in traditional spirituals and blues, the rugged gospel vocals are shared by a female choir and guitarist /marimba man Neil Haverty, with a dextrous rhythm section behind them that have obviously been schooled by the Thrill Jockey roster while simultaneously soaking up the Alan Lomax collection.
But the specifics aren’t as important here as the effect it had on the audience. There’s an inherent joy in seeing a family band such as this: mixed gender, choral vocals, and melodies meant to uplift and offer some glimpse of salvation. The staging helped, as well: an ever-so-slightly-sloped tiny natural ampitheatre, where the stage was set in a beautiful orchard; one had to peer through tree branches to see some band members.
Because of the size of the band (approx. nine or ten, if my sunstroked memory serves correctly), they obviously had many friends in the tightly knit audience. But for everyone else, it was one of those moments where with each successive song, you could feel everyone around you falling deeper in love and losing themselves in the joy of the moment. Applause and enthusiasms increased exponentially after each song, with some even moved to tears. These are the moments that every music fan lives for, the kind that are all too often spoiled by hype machines both macro and micro. Even writing about this now seems to sully the special moment.
(Quick side note: other discoveries for me were Great Bloomers, Rural Alberta Advantage, Water Colour, and Forest City Lovers (I’d only seen Kat Burns solo before). Returning favourites were Bocce, Acorn, Wooden Sky. Go see them all as soon as you can. Also, Great Lake Swimmers were in trio format, with guest vocalist Serena Ryder (rocking a Sylvia Tyson look with her autoharp), which made for an unforgettable summer sunset set.)
Arriving home on Sunday, I napped away the cumulative fatigue I felt after being kept awake all of Saturday by a drunken tambourine player. I had no intention of going out again, until I noticed that earlier in the week I’d made plans to go see Sweden’s Loney Dear at Lee’s Palace. It was a relatively early show (10.15 set time) and I was somewhat rejuventated, so I set out with little to lose.
Normally, when 120 people are in the 500-capacity Lee’s Palace, it’s a very lonely affair. But right from the first song, Emil Svanängen and his four-piece band drew everyone to the front of the stage for their first Canadian show ever. They were audibly very happy to be there, and despite the venue being too big for the crowd, they professed shock that anyone other than the promoters were coming to see them on their first headlining tour. So imagine their surprise when the Toronto audience not only recognized songs within the first two beats (“even my own band can’t do that,” Svanängen deadpanned), but called out for Swedish rarities that Loney Dear weren’t sure they remembered how to play. And, like the Bruce Peninsula audience (though nowhere near as emotional), the audience only got louder and more demonstrative as the show went on.
The look on the face of every band member was priceless. One only has to imagine what it’s like to land in a foreign country halfway around the world to find such an outpouring of love and familiarity. (“You know our songs better than we do. It’s creepy!”) For the boyish Svanängen, who writes stadium-sized anthemic choruses set to a modestly ambitious, richly harmonious folk-pop backdrop, you could see all of his bedroom four-track fantasies coming to life as he listened to these rambunctious Torontonians take up his wordless choruses.
It had the campfire intimacy of a Track and Field show, and yet here we were in an ugly, black-walled bin that we’ve all been a thousand times before. There were those there who were obviously ubergeeked about this largely obscure Swedish band (the fact that they’re on Sub Pop here is their only claim to fame so far), and the rest of us quickly fell in love with the disarming stage banter of Svanängen. But the magic here was watching the band be swept up in the moment, especially when they returned for a richly deserved second encore (as opposed to the confessed artificiality of the first one, befitting Svanängen’s self-deprecating humour).
The connections continued as we all shuffled out the door, as I overheard two Japanese guys recognize each other from back home, finding each other again in a Canadian bar watching a Swedish band. It was the perfect cap on a weekend of musical intimacy, of moments where the world seems that much more smaller.
“All I want is a state of hope,” sang Svanängen. Few people in either audience this weekend could have stated it more simply.
-end-
My summer festival season started on Saturday with the Track and Field gathering. Held just outside Rockwood, Ontario (which itself is ten minutes outside of Guelph), it boasts the side of Toronto music that you rarely read about beyond the message boards. These are, for the most part, the non-careerists who spread themselves out between four or five different projects, where the will to create supercedes all else. These are the artists heard on this year’s excellent Friends in Bellwoods compilation, with only a mere handful bubbling up to anything resembling mainstream recognition (Great Lake Swimmers, Final Fantasy, Sebastien Grainger of Death From Above 1979, Ohbijou).
Helen Spitzer has a full run-down of the weekend’s events in today’s Eye Daily here.
As she points out, the highlight for many was Bruce Peninsula, a new Toronto band that’s evolved over the space of ten gigs in the last year. Rooted in traditional spirituals and blues, the rugged gospel vocals are shared by a female choir and guitarist /marimba man Neil Haverty, with a dextrous rhythm section behind them that have obviously been schooled by the Thrill Jockey roster while simultaneously soaking up the Alan Lomax collection.
But the specifics aren’t as important here as the effect it had on the audience. There’s an inherent joy in seeing a family band such as this: mixed gender, choral vocals, and melodies meant to uplift and offer some glimpse of salvation. The staging helped, as well: an ever-so-slightly-sloped tiny natural ampitheatre, where the stage was set in a beautiful orchard; one had to peer through tree branches to see some band members.
Because of the size of the band (approx. nine or ten, if my sunstroked memory serves correctly), they obviously had many friends in the tightly knit audience. But for everyone else, it was one of those moments where with each successive song, you could feel everyone around you falling deeper in love and losing themselves in the joy of the moment. Applause and enthusiasms increased exponentially after each song, with some even moved to tears. These are the moments that every music fan lives for, the kind that are all too often spoiled by hype machines both macro and micro. Even writing about this now seems to sully the special moment.
(Quick side note: other discoveries for me were Great Bloomers, Rural Alberta Advantage, Water Colour, and Forest City Lovers (I’d only seen Kat Burns solo before). Returning favourites were Bocce, Acorn, Wooden Sky. Go see them all as soon as you can. Also, Great Lake Swimmers were in trio format, with guest vocalist Serena Ryder (rocking a Sylvia Tyson look with her autoharp), which made for an unforgettable summer sunset set.)
Arriving home on Sunday, I napped away the cumulative fatigue I felt after being kept awake all of Saturday by a drunken tambourine player. I had no intention of going out again, until I noticed that earlier in the week I’d made plans to go see Sweden’s Loney Dear at Lee’s Palace. It was a relatively early show (10.15 set time) and I was somewhat rejuventated, so I set out with little to lose.
Normally, when 120 people are in the 500-capacity Lee’s Palace, it’s a very lonely affair. But right from the first song, Emil Svanängen and his four-piece band drew everyone to the front of the stage for their first Canadian show ever. They were audibly very happy to be there, and despite the venue being too big for the crowd, they professed shock that anyone other than the promoters were coming to see them on their first headlining tour. So imagine their surprise when the Toronto audience not only recognized songs within the first two beats (“even my own band can’t do that,” Svanängen deadpanned), but called out for Swedish rarities that Loney Dear weren’t sure they remembered how to play. And, like the Bruce Peninsula audience (though nowhere near as emotional), the audience only got louder and more demonstrative as the show went on.
The look on the face of every band member was priceless. One only has to imagine what it’s like to land in a foreign country halfway around the world to find such an outpouring of love and familiarity. (“You know our songs better than we do. It’s creepy!”) For the boyish Svanängen, who writes stadium-sized anthemic choruses set to a modestly ambitious, richly harmonious folk-pop backdrop, you could see all of his bedroom four-track fantasies coming to life as he listened to these rambunctious Torontonians take up his wordless choruses.
It had the campfire intimacy of a Track and Field show, and yet here we were in an ugly, black-walled bin that we’ve all been a thousand times before. There were those there who were obviously ubergeeked about this largely obscure Swedish band (the fact that they’re on Sub Pop here is their only claim to fame so far), and the rest of us quickly fell in love with the disarming stage banter of Svanängen. But the magic here was watching the band be swept up in the moment, especially when they returned for a richly deserved second encore (as opposed to the confessed artificiality of the first one, befitting Svanängen’s self-deprecating humour).
The connections continued as we all shuffled out the door, as I overheard two Japanese guys recognize each other from back home, finding each other again in a Canadian bar watching a Swedish band. It was the perfect cap on a weekend of musical intimacy, of moments where the world seems that much more smaller.
“All I want is a state of hope,” sang Svanängen. Few people in either audience this weekend could have stated it more simply.
-end-
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Spring cleaning 07
Some reviews from the last three months of my column in the Kitchener-Waterloo Record, a mainstream daily paper west of Toronto. Arranged alphabetically. I'll spare you my thoughts on the John Mellencamp or Korn Unplugged records.
Air – Pocket Symphony (EMI)
Easy listening is not supposed to be difficult. Yet that’s exactly the raison d’être for French band Air. On the surface, they’re all about rays of California sunshine and lattes on the Left Banke, portraits painted with shimmering synths, delicate acoustic guitars and muted pianos. Yet nearly every track on this, their fourth proper album (excluding soundtracks), is rife with suspension and tension underneath the blissful exterior. Even in the gentlest moments, there’s still a creeping paranoia underneath that suggests something is amiss.
Though most of Pocket Symphony features vocals, Air excel when the jettison the ESL and focus on instrumentals. Night Sight and Mayfair Song would both make excellent themes for a 70s dystopian sci-fi flick, while Lost Message sounds adrift in space, the loneliest place of all—Rocket Man has nothing on this track.
Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker makes a noteworthy cameo, mumbling through a song—One Hell of a Party—that sounds like he wrote and performed it during the worst hangover of his life. Mer du Japon is the only flashback we have here of the Saturday night preceding the Sunday morning coming down that the rest of Pocket Symphony exists in.
The only major disappointment here is that this material doesn’t live up to the even more haunting songs they coughed up for Charlotte Gainsbourg to coo over on her 2006 album, or betray the depth of influence they portrayed on their an eclectic chill-out DJ mix for the Late Night Tales series, also from last year. (K-W Record, March 22, 2007)
Apostle of Hustle – National Anthem of Nowhere (Arts and Crafts/EMI)
With its dense 2004 debut Folkloric Feel, Apostle of Hustle became the most underappreciated and misunderstood offshoot of Broken Social Scene. While other branches such as Jason Collett, Stars, and Metric were considerably more pop than the parent project, Apostle of Hustle existed in its own private world, carving out a unique sound through thick layers of rhythmic complexity, guitar atmospherics, and songwriting that rarely made it simple for the listener.
But if that album failed to find an audience, National Anthem of Nowhere manages to maintain all the mystery of the debut while simultaneously taking a more direct and visceral approach that pays off pop dividends without dumbing it down. The Latin influence is more pronounced, the melodies are brought to the forefront, and bandleader Andrew Whiteman’s inventiveness as a guitarist continues to inspire awe.
National Anthem of Nowhere is a richly rewarding sonic feast, the best thing to emerge from the Arts and Crafts camp since BSS’s breakthrough You Forgot It In People. Furthermore, Whiteman’s songwriting is superior to that band’s overreliance on sonic strengths, which puts him at the front of the pack. This time you can bet he won’t be left behind. (K-W Record, February 8, 2007)
Bloc Party – A Weekend in the City (Warner)
Unknown band makes it big overnight, tour the world for a year, release a remix record, come home and take a lot of drugs, and attempt to make a bold statement about the vapidity of modern life. How many times have we heard this before?
Bloc Party get ready to stumble right off the top, by proclaiming: “I’m trying to be heroic in an age of modernity.” From there, singer Kele Okereke tries in vain to make us feel his pain. Believe it or not, these are actual lyrics from the same opening track: “I order the foie gras and I eat it with complete disdain. Bubbles rise in champagne flutes, but when we kiss I feel nothing. Feasting on sleeping pills and Marlboro reds, self-pity won’t save you.”
I’ll say. Cry me a river, rock star! There are countless more examples, all of which can be summed up when Okereke sings, “I am a martyr, I just need a motive.” Sadly, that’s from Uniform, one of the better songs here. The rest are all written from the perspective of a repentant club kid who, in a moment of clarity, realised that there are far greater political concerns than consumerism. Call me back when you’ve read a few books.
Fortunately for all involved, Bloc Party as a band is better than Okereke as a wordsmith. They’re the rare stadium rock band who try to avoid guitar clichés, much like their obvious heroes in U2—whose recent producer Jacknife Lee mans the boards here. And arguably, Bloc Party are the better band these days. Okereke has a soaring, grandiose voice to match his earnesty, but it’s drummer Matt Tong who saves the day time and again, ensuring that every song has a furious backbeat, even the songs that threaten to sink into the treacly territory of Coldplay.
Let’s wait for the remix version of this album—an instrumental one. (K-W Record, February 15, 2007)
Holly Cole – s/t (Alert/Universal)
She’s been away so long, no wonder her new self-titled seems like a re-introduction.
After two criminally ignored pop albums in the late 90s, Cole returned to her jazz roots for another overlooked album, 2003’s Shade. This release once again features material more than 50 years old, but Cole remains a sly stylist who can make any song her own, including chestnuts by Irving Berlin, Cole Porter and Henry Mancini. And she gets more than just musical inspiration from these sources; on the sole original here, she manages the Porter-esque trick of rhyming “the falls of Niagara” with “the theorem of Pythagoras.”
Helping her out this time is returning producer/bassist Greg Cohen, who recorded Cole’s third album, 1993’s Don’t Smoke In Bed. Cohen has deep roots in New York City’s jazz scene—he gigs regularly with Tom Waits and John Zorn—and calls in plenty of small woodwind and brass ensemble help to flesh things out. This isn’t a big band sound contrived to compete with Cole’s vocals; instead, they help steam up the room and add some raunch to both the torchy numbers and zippity finger snappers.
Diana Krall it ain’t, and in an increasingly sterile atmosphere for loungey female vocalists, Cole manages to sound even more refreshing today than she did when she arrived 20 years ago. (K-W Record, March 22, 2007)
Ry Cooder – My Name is Buddy (Nonesuch/Warner)
If Howard Zinn had written The Incredible Journey, it might have read like the backstory included in this Ry Cooder record, which is ostensibly about the travels of Buddy Red Cat, Lefty Mouse and Reverend Tom Toad through dustbowl America with a copy of Marx’s Das Kapital in hand.
Despite the oddball animal narrative, Cooder pens plenty of potent and raw folk songs, like the soul stomper Sundown Town and Three Chords And The Truth, the latter an ode to Pete Seeger, Paul Robeson and Joe Hill. But because the bandleader doesn’t surrender vocal duties more often, it’s hard to stick with a 70-minute album when you don’t care for the narrator.
Much like Cooder’s most recent album Chavez Ravine, this is a dense narrative that relies more on concept than it does individual songs, and shines largely on the presence of guests: accordionist Flaco Jiménez, fiddler Mike Seeger, the Chieftains’ Paddy Moloney and Cooder’s favourite soul duo of Terry Evans and Bobby King. (K-W Record, March 22, 2007)
Deerhoof – Friend Opportunity (Kill Rock Stars)
If Yoko Ono had all the Beatles on her side and put them together with the The Who's rhythm section, she would likely twist and turn pop and rock conventions into barely recognizable fragments. Pieced back together, it would sound something like Deerhoof. This San Francisco trio have a deserved rep as musicians’ musicians—which is why they get opening slots for Wilco, Radiohead and the Flaming Lips—but their new material finds them getting simultaneously weirder and more accessible. They’re not interested in being difficult for its own sake—after all, this is Friend Opportunity.
Deerhoof are proof positive that experimental rock doesn’t have to be bloated and boring. It’s more than Satomi Matzusaki’s girlish voice that give this a sense of innocent play, though that certainly lends it a wistful naïveté. Instead, the entire band pushes and pulls the rhythm in obtuse directions while not being afraid of power chords or sing-song melodies. Blips, blurps and crazy keyboards frequently fight for space alongside the band’s rock instrumentation, and yet only a band like Deerhoof could make any sense of this. Hopefully plenty of new fans can, too. (K-W Record, February 1, 2007)
Endless Highway: The Music of The Band – Various Artists (429/Koch)
The Band remain one of the great enigmas of rock history. How did these out-of-time hosers—and their Arkansas drummer— channel the spirit of music from the Southern states into their own unique musical voice, a sound that has yet to be duplicated?
Plenty of musicians have looked to The Band for inspiration, so it’s a wonder that no has assembled a tribute before now; conversely, it’s small wonder that hardly anyone here manages to capture the mystique so central to The Band’s sound.
Part of the problem is that The Band are hard to cover, although it can certainly be done: witness Serena Ryder’s recent take on This Wheel’s On Fire, or Chicago chanteuse Kelly Hogan’s stunning take on Whispering Pines (neither versions appear here).
But My Morning Jacket should know better than to pummell the life out of It Makes No Difference; instead they rob this heartbreaking song of its frailty and beauty. Only the core of the song itself saves it from becoming a soulless modern rock ballad. They’re the worst offenders here, though the painfully pasty northerners in Death Cab for Cutie fail miserably when singing about “ol’ Virginie” on Rocking Chair.
The rest of the line-up is equally uninspiring: Jack Johnson, Gomez, Guster, Blues Traveler, Lee Ann Womack, all of whom merely run through the songs in faint homage to the originals. Others shine merely by paying proper reverance, such as Rosanne Cash on Unfaithful Servant, and the Roches on Acadian Driftwood.
Oddly enough, it’s the lone Canadian here—Vancouver’s Steve Reynolds—who chooses to put his own stamp on the material, by slowing down Stage Fright and making it an acoustic lament in tune with the lyric, rather than the carnivalesque rock of the original.
This was released to commemorate the 30th anniversary of The Last Waltz. Here in Canada, the CBC put together its own tribute with Colin Linden, Tom Wilson, Luke Doucet, Oh Susanna, Great Lake Swimmers and others, broadcast on the day of the actual anniversary, and it outclasses this affair in every aspect. Hopefully that will get its own CD release sooner than later. (K-W Record, February 1, 2007)
Friends in Bellwoods – Various Artists (Out of This Spark)
When people write about the Toronto music scene, names like Broken Social Scene, Final Fantasy, K-OS and others usually dominate the discussion. Of course, there’s plenty more going on underground, but perhaps the most shocking thing about this Friends of Bellwoods compilation—other than the fact that it’s overflowing with amazing music, spread over 36 tracks on two discs—is that so much of it is new to even the most dedicated follower of indie fashion.
Local showgoers will likely know Guelph’s D’Urbervilles and We’re Marching On, Ottawa’s The Acorn, Toronto’s Ohbijou and Brampton’s Meligrove Band. This will also introduce you to the plaintive country of Friday Morning’s Regret, the morning-after folk of Jonas Bonnetta, the electro gay dance party of Kids on TV, the 90s indie rock of Germans, the synth pop of Montreal’s Telefauna, and one-off projects like Water Colour and The Dinghies. Throw in relatively more established names like Snailhouse, Gentleman Reg, Barzin and the Constantines’ Bry Webb, and you have a perfect time capsule of Ontario music for 2007. (K-W Record, February 8, 2007)
Kyp Harness – Fugitives (maplemusic.com)
Kyp Harness is a Canadian writer whose work deserves a place in the nation’s official songbooks, even though most of his discography has flown underneath all radar. His latest is a limited-run, self-released collection once again produced by Dale Morningstar (of Gord Downie’s band) and full of dense wordplay illuminating corners of hope in a desert of desolation and moral corruption.
In the past, Harness would usually detail the woes of the world in a verse and find redemption in love by the time he hit the chorus. This time, Harness finds all his answers in God: a God, he says in the liner notes, that is “far from being a mascot for war, for stealing from the poor to give to the rich, for anti-choice and sexual discrimination.” This God is perfectly in line with Harness’s lyrical mission from the beginning: compassion, forgiveness, justice and truth.
Because of this, Fugitives doesn’t sound like Harness’s “Jesus record,” even if he doesn’t make any attempt to mask his inspiration. Instead, like Harness’s best work, it’s a rock album recorded live in a room, with subtle gospel overtones to match the lyrical message, and a singer set on exploring the moral sphere of his world—only this time with a guiding hand leading him out of the darkness. (K-W Record, March 1, 2007)
Peter, Bjorn and John – Writers’ Block (Red Ink/Sony BMG)
Their name suggests a Scandanavian coffee house folk trio; their acronym implies reliable comfort food. This PB&J use loping lo-fi hip-hop beats with whistling melodies to augment familiar elements of underground British 80s pop, such as jangly guitars, soft keyboards, and earnest portraits of romantic minutiae. At first glance, PB&J sound like a summit between the Housemartins and New Order, with ESL-accented vocals that conjure unlikely comparisons: early Costello, Sloan’s Chris Murphy, 54.40’s vocal harmonies.
Thankfully, PB&J have enough oddball tricks up their twee sleeves—dulcimers, flamenco guitars, clarinets, and choruses catchy enough to pass as nursery rhyme—to set them apart from their hodgepodge of influences. Songs like the jaunty break-up number Let’s Call It Off, the tourist jingle Amsterdam, and The Chills—the latter driven by tumbling percussion and hissing castanets—give their closest competitors The Shins a run for their money. (K-W Record, March 15, 2007)
The Stooges – The Weirdness (Virgin/EMI)
How can you go wrong? One of the greatest rock’n’roll bands ever, progenitors of punk rock, not only get back together to play ecstatically received live shows, but they recruit a powerhouse bassist from the generation after them (Mike Watt of the Minutemen) and the best raw rock’n’roll producer from the generation after that (Steve Albini of Nirvana and thousands of others). Guitarist Ron Asheton sounds like he hasn’t missed a beat since the band split up in the 70s, and even Fun House saxophonist Steve McKay is back in the fold.
Trouble is, the iconic Iggy Pop sounds like he wrote this entire album in about ten minutes and five beers. In between puerile push-button rants about ATMs and Greedy Awful People, the fleeting moment of wit is when Iggy manages to rhyme “Obama” with “baby mama” and “intifadah.”
In retrospect, anyone who had high hopes for this has likely not listened to an Iggy Pop album in decades. If they had, they’d realise that he’s an embarrassing old fart who’s only successful when he’s chest-deep in self-parody (see: Kick It, his duet with Peaches).
Weirdness, indeed. (K-W Record, March 22, 2007)
Lucinda Williams – West (Lost Highway/Universal)
Earlier in her career Lucinda Wiliams excelled at character narratives. This album, however, is either written about one severely heartbroken and messed up character, or the artist herself at a painfully emotional low. The narrator here is struggling to overcome loss, sinking deep into depression, and dissecting the dark dissolution of a relationship’s dying days.
And those are the happy songs. Williams’ southern drawl milks the material for every ounce of pathos—she sounds like she’s bleeding all over the microphone, which with material like this makes it all the more effective. The lyrics are much more than blubbering and blather, however. Williams’ eye for sharp poetic detail and her gift for phrasing make up for the fact that she’s wallowing in woe.
While her lyrics stand among her best, there are few musical moments here to match their power. Melody is often sacrificed for poetic cadence, and her backing band is content to leave gaping holes in her opiated, loping two-chord songs. Sometimes that works: Unsuffer Me is a few power chords short of becoming a Black Sabbath tune, where an ominous, heavy bass progression underscores Williams’ plea for someone to “undo my logic/ undo my fear.”
If your Valentine’s Day went swimmingly well, avoid this album at all costs. But if you need a good bawl, Lucinda Williams is your new best friend. (K-W Record, February 22, 2007)
Amy Winehouse – Back to Black (Island/Universal)
Winehouse became a platinum success in her native UK with her debut album of hip-hop inflected jazz pop, but here she comes out swinging with a sassy set of soul that draws equally from Motown and Phil Spector girl groups of the 60s. Producer Mark Ronson, who helmed some of Christina Aguilera’s recent comeback, gives her a punchy, vintage sound courtesy of a brassy horn section and members of Sharon Jones’s Daptones and Antibalas—you’d be hard to find two modern acts better at reproducing old school soul and funk. And the 22-year old Winehouse has the pipes to belt out bangers dedicated to dissing rehab and deadbeat dudes; her lyrics betray a bit too much of her bratty youth, but that barely matters when she’s got the sound down. (K-W Record, January 11 2007)
You Say Party! We Say Die! – Lose All the Time (Paper Bag/Universal)
Death and loss might be themes in this Vancouver band's moniker and album title, but you'd never infer that from the joyous racket they stir up on their first proper full-length.
This is more than just a racket, however. Vocalist Becky Ninkovic kick off the record by yelling "This is a test! This is a test!" Except that they already got their test out of the way, on 2005's debut EP, which landed them plenty of live dates across Canada and in Europe. The EP suggested a flash-in-the-pan one-trick-pony, not unlike Toronto's Controller Controller or Vancouver's The Organ, who also tapped the darker side of early 80s post-punk pop before hitting a creative glass ceiling and calling it quits.
What separates YSP!WSD! from a crowded field of compatriots is their versatility, amply displayed on these 12 tracks, an early contender for best Canadian debut of 2007. Ninkovic easily moves between yelping punk ingénue ala the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' Karen O, to a brooding crooner like late period PJ Harvey. Meanwhile, the band behind her don't depend on mere disco beats to ensure danceability, and have enough sense of dynamics to pull off a sparse piano ballad.
They close the album by advising, "Don't say goodbye: say, 'good journey.'" They have a long, promising and productive one ahead of them. (K-W Record, March 15, 2007)
Air – Pocket Symphony (EMI)
Easy listening is not supposed to be difficult. Yet that’s exactly the raison d’être for French band Air. On the surface, they’re all about rays of California sunshine and lattes on the Left Banke, portraits painted with shimmering synths, delicate acoustic guitars and muted pianos. Yet nearly every track on this, their fourth proper album (excluding soundtracks), is rife with suspension and tension underneath the blissful exterior. Even in the gentlest moments, there’s still a creeping paranoia underneath that suggests something is amiss.
Though most of Pocket Symphony features vocals, Air excel when the jettison the ESL and focus on instrumentals. Night Sight and Mayfair Song would both make excellent themes for a 70s dystopian sci-fi flick, while Lost Message sounds adrift in space, the loneliest place of all—Rocket Man has nothing on this track.
Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker makes a noteworthy cameo, mumbling through a song—One Hell of a Party—that sounds like he wrote and performed it during the worst hangover of his life. Mer du Japon is the only flashback we have here of the Saturday night preceding the Sunday morning coming down that the rest of Pocket Symphony exists in.
The only major disappointment here is that this material doesn’t live up to the even more haunting songs they coughed up for Charlotte Gainsbourg to coo over on her 2006 album, or betray the depth of influence they portrayed on their an eclectic chill-out DJ mix for the Late Night Tales series, also from last year. (K-W Record, March 22, 2007)
Apostle of Hustle – National Anthem of Nowhere (Arts and Crafts/EMI)
With its dense 2004 debut Folkloric Feel, Apostle of Hustle became the most underappreciated and misunderstood offshoot of Broken Social Scene. While other branches such as Jason Collett, Stars, and Metric were considerably more pop than the parent project, Apostle of Hustle existed in its own private world, carving out a unique sound through thick layers of rhythmic complexity, guitar atmospherics, and songwriting that rarely made it simple for the listener.
But if that album failed to find an audience, National Anthem of Nowhere manages to maintain all the mystery of the debut while simultaneously taking a more direct and visceral approach that pays off pop dividends without dumbing it down. The Latin influence is more pronounced, the melodies are brought to the forefront, and bandleader Andrew Whiteman’s inventiveness as a guitarist continues to inspire awe.
National Anthem of Nowhere is a richly rewarding sonic feast, the best thing to emerge from the Arts and Crafts camp since BSS’s breakthrough You Forgot It In People. Furthermore, Whiteman’s songwriting is superior to that band’s overreliance on sonic strengths, which puts him at the front of the pack. This time you can bet he won’t be left behind. (K-W Record, February 8, 2007)
Bloc Party – A Weekend in the City (Warner)
Unknown band makes it big overnight, tour the world for a year, release a remix record, come home and take a lot of drugs, and attempt to make a bold statement about the vapidity of modern life. How many times have we heard this before?
Bloc Party get ready to stumble right off the top, by proclaiming: “I’m trying to be heroic in an age of modernity.” From there, singer Kele Okereke tries in vain to make us feel his pain. Believe it or not, these are actual lyrics from the same opening track: “I order the foie gras and I eat it with complete disdain. Bubbles rise in champagne flutes, but when we kiss I feel nothing. Feasting on sleeping pills and Marlboro reds, self-pity won’t save you.”
I’ll say. Cry me a river, rock star! There are countless more examples, all of which can be summed up when Okereke sings, “I am a martyr, I just need a motive.” Sadly, that’s from Uniform, one of the better songs here. The rest are all written from the perspective of a repentant club kid who, in a moment of clarity, realised that there are far greater political concerns than consumerism. Call me back when you’ve read a few books.
Fortunately for all involved, Bloc Party as a band is better than Okereke as a wordsmith. They’re the rare stadium rock band who try to avoid guitar clichés, much like their obvious heroes in U2—whose recent producer Jacknife Lee mans the boards here. And arguably, Bloc Party are the better band these days. Okereke has a soaring, grandiose voice to match his earnesty, but it’s drummer Matt Tong who saves the day time and again, ensuring that every song has a furious backbeat, even the songs that threaten to sink into the treacly territory of Coldplay.
Let’s wait for the remix version of this album—an instrumental one. (K-W Record, February 15, 2007)
Holly Cole – s/t (Alert/Universal)
She’s been away so long, no wonder her new self-titled seems like a re-introduction.
After two criminally ignored pop albums in the late 90s, Cole returned to her jazz roots for another overlooked album, 2003’s Shade. This release once again features material more than 50 years old, but Cole remains a sly stylist who can make any song her own, including chestnuts by Irving Berlin, Cole Porter and Henry Mancini. And she gets more than just musical inspiration from these sources; on the sole original here, she manages the Porter-esque trick of rhyming “the falls of Niagara” with “the theorem of Pythagoras.”
Helping her out this time is returning producer/bassist Greg Cohen, who recorded Cole’s third album, 1993’s Don’t Smoke In Bed. Cohen has deep roots in New York City’s jazz scene—he gigs regularly with Tom Waits and John Zorn—and calls in plenty of small woodwind and brass ensemble help to flesh things out. This isn’t a big band sound contrived to compete with Cole’s vocals; instead, they help steam up the room and add some raunch to both the torchy numbers and zippity finger snappers.
Diana Krall it ain’t, and in an increasingly sterile atmosphere for loungey female vocalists, Cole manages to sound even more refreshing today than she did when she arrived 20 years ago. (K-W Record, March 22, 2007)
Ry Cooder – My Name is Buddy (Nonesuch/Warner)
If Howard Zinn had written The Incredible Journey, it might have read like the backstory included in this Ry Cooder record, which is ostensibly about the travels of Buddy Red Cat, Lefty Mouse and Reverend Tom Toad through dustbowl America with a copy of Marx’s Das Kapital in hand.
Despite the oddball animal narrative, Cooder pens plenty of potent and raw folk songs, like the soul stomper Sundown Town and Three Chords And The Truth, the latter an ode to Pete Seeger, Paul Robeson and Joe Hill. But because the bandleader doesn’t surrender vocal duties more often, it’s hard to stick with a 70-minute album when you don’t care for the narrator.
Much like Cooder’s most recent album Chavez Ravine, this is a dense narrative that relies more on concept than it does individual songs, and shines largely on the presence of guests: accordionist Flaco Jiménez, fiddler Mike Seeger, the Chieftains’ Paddy Moloney and Cooder’s favourite soul duo of Terry Evans and Bobby King. (K-W Record, March 22, 2007)
Deerhoof – Friend Opportunity (Kill Rock Stars)
If Yoko Ono had all the Beatles on her side and put them together with the The Who's rhythm section, she would likely twist and turn pop and rock conventions into barely recognizable fragments. Pieced back together, it would sound something like Deerhoof. This San Francisco trio have a deserved rep as musicians’ musicians—which is why they get opening slots for Wilco, Radiohead and the Flaming Lips—but their new material finds them getting simultaneously weirder and more accessible. They’re not interested in being difficult for its own sake—after all, this is Friend Opportunity.
Deerhoof are proof positive that experimental rock doesn’t have to be bloated and boring. It’s more than Satomi Matzusaki’s girlish voice that give this a sense of innocent play, though that certainly lends it a wistful naïveté. Instead, the entire band pushes and pulls the rhythm in obtuse directions while not being afraid of power chords or sing-song melodies. Blips, blurps and crazy keyboards frequently fight for space alongside the band’s rock instrumentation, and yet only a band like Deerhoof could make any sense of this. Hopefully plenty of new fans can, too. (K-W Record, February 1, 2007)
Endless Highway: The Music of The Band – Various Artists (429/Koch)
The Band remain one of the great enigmas of rock history. How did these out-of-time hosers—and their Arkansas drummer— channel the spirit of music from the Southern states into their own unique musical voice, a sound that has yet to be duplicated?
Plenty of musicians have looked to The Band for inspiration, so it’s a wonder that no has assembled a tribute before now; conversely, it’s small wonder that hardly anyone here manages to capture the mystique so central to The Band’s sound.
Part of the problem is that The Band are hard to cover, although it can certainly be done: witness Serena Ryder’s recent take on This Wheel’s On Fire, or Chicago chanteuse Kelly Hogan’s stunning take on Whispering Pines (neither versions appear here).
But My Morning Jacket should know better than to pummell the life out of It Makes No Difference; instead they rob this heartbreaking song of its frailty and beauty. Only the core of the song itself saves it from becoming a soulless modern rock ballad. They’re the worst offenders here, though the painfully pasty northerners in Death Cab for Cutie fail miserably when singing about “ol’ Virginie” on Rocking Chair.
The rest of the line-up is equally uninspiring: Jack Johnson, Gomez, Guster, Blues Traveler, Lee Ann Womack, all of whom merely run through the songs in faint homage to the originals. Others shine merely by paying proper reverance, such as Rosanne Cash on Unfaithful Servant, and the Roches on Acadian Driftwood.
Oddly enough, it’s the lone Canadian here—Vancouver’s Steve Reynolds—who chooses to put his own stamp on the material, by slowing down Stage Fright and making it an acoustic lament in tune with the lyric, rather than the carnivalesque rock of the original.
This was released to commemorate the 30th anniversary of The Last Waltz. Here in Canada, the CBC put together its own tribute with Colin Linden, Tom Wilson, Luke Doucet, Oh Susanna, Great Lake Swimmers and others, broadcast on the day of the actual anniversary, and it outclasses this affair in every aspect. Hopefully that will get its own CD release sooner than later. (K-W Record, February 1, 2007)
Friends in Bellwoods – Various Artists (Out of This Spark)
When people write about the Toronto music scene, names like Broken Social Scene, Final Fantasy, K-OS and others usually dominate the discussion. Of course, there’s plenty more going on underground, but perhaps the most shocking thing about this Friends of Bellwoods compilation—other than the fact that it’s overflowing with amazing music, spread over 36 tracks on two discs—is that so much of it is new to even the most dedicated follower of indie fashion.
Local showgoers will likely know Guelph’s D’Urbervilles and We’re Marching On, Ottawa’s The Acorn, Toronto’s Ohbijou and Brampton’s Meligrove Band. This will also introduce you to the plaintive country of Friday Morning’s Regret, the morning-after folk of Jonas Bonnetta, the electro gay dance party of Kids on TV, the 90s indie rock of Germans, the synth pop of Montreal’s Telefauna, and one-off projects like Water Colour and The Dinghies. Throw in relatively more established names like Snailhouse, Gentleman Reg, Barzin and the Constantines’ Bry Webb, and you have a perfect time capsule of Ontario music for 2007. (K-W Record, February 8, 2007)
Kyp Harness – Fugitives (maplemusic.com)
Kyp Harness is a Canadian writer whose work deserves a place in the nation’s official songbooks, even though most of his discography has flown underneath all radar. His latest is a limited-run, self-released collection once again produced by Dale Morningstar (of Gord Downie’s band) and full of dense wordplay illuminating corners of hope in a desert of desolation and moral corruption.
In the past, Harness would usually detail the woes of the world in a verse and find redemption in love by the time he hit the chorus. This time, Harness finds all his answers in God: a God, he says in the liner notes, that is “far from being a mascot for war, for stealing from the poor to give to the rich, for anti-choice and sexual discrimination.” This God is perfectly in line with Harness’s lyrical mission from the beginning: compassion, forgiveness, justice and truth.
Because of this, Fugitives doesn’t sound like Harness’s “Jesus record,” even if he doesn’t make any attempt to mask his inspiration. Instead, like Harness’s best work, it’s a rock album recorded live in a room, with subtle gospel overtones to match the lyrical message, and a singer set on exploring the moral sphere of his world—only this time with a guiding hand leading him out of the darkness. (K-W Record, March 1, 2007)
Peter, Bjorn and John – Writers’ Block (Red Ink/Sony BMG)
Their name suggests a Scandanavian coffee house folk trio; their acronym implies reliable comfort food. This PB&J use loping lo-fi hip-hop beats with whistling melodies to augment familiar elements of underground British 80s pop, such as jangly guitars, soft keyboards, and earnest portraits of romantic minutiae. At first glance, PB&J sound like a summit between the Housemartins and New Order, with ESL-accented vocals that conjure unlikely comparisons: early Costello, Sloan’s Chris Murphy, 54.40’s vocal harmonies.
Thankfully, PB&J have enough oddball tricks up their twee sleeves—dulcimers, flamenco guitars, clarinets, and choruses catchy enough to pass as nursery rhyme—to set them apart from their hodgepodge of influences. Songs like the jaunty break-up number Let’s Call It Off, the tourist jingle Amsterdam, and The Chills—the latter driven by tumbling percussion and hissing castanets—give their closest competitors The Shins a run for their money. (K-W Record, March 15, 2007)
The Stooges – The Weirdness (Virgin/EMI)
How can you go wrong? One of the greatest rock’n’roll bands ever, progenitors of punk rock, not only get back together to play ecstatically received live shows, but they recruit a powerhouse bassist from the generation after them (Mike Watt of the Minutemen) and the best raw rock’n’roll producer from the generation after that (Steve Albini of Nirvana and thousands of others). Guitarist Ron Asheton sounds like he hasn’t missed a beat since the band split up in the 70s, and even Fun House saxophonist Steve McKay is back in the fold.
Trouble is, the iconic Iggy Pop sounds like he wrote this entire album in about ten minutes and five beers. In between puerile push-button rants about ATMs and Greedy Awful People, the fleeting moment of wit is when Iggy manages to rhyme “Obama” with “baby mama” and “intifadah.”
In retrospect, anyone who had high hopes for this has likely not listened to an Iggy Pop album in decades. If they had, they’d realise that he’s an embarrassing old fart who’s only successful when he’s chest-deep in self-parody (see: Kick It, his duet with Peaches).
Weirdness, indeed. (K-W Record, March 22, 2007)
Lucinda Williams – West (Lost Highway/Universal)
Earlier in her career Lucinda Wiliams excelled at character narratives. This album, however, is either written about one severely heartbroken and messed up character, or the artist herself at a painfully emotional low. The narrator here is struggling to overcome loss, sinking deep into depression, and dissecting the dark dissolution of a relationship’s dying days.
And those are the happy songs. Williams’ southern drawl milks the material for every ounce of pathos—she sounds like she’s bleeding all over the microphone, which with material like this makes it all the more effective. The lyrics are much more than blubbering and blather, however. Williams’ eye for sharp poetic detail and her gift for phrasing make up for the fact that she’s wallowing in woe.
While her lyrics stand among her best, there are few musical moments here to match their power. Melody is often sacrificed for poetic cadence, and her backing band is content to leave gaping holes in her opiated, loping two-chord songs. Sometimes that works: Unsuffer Me is a few power chords short of becoming a Black Sabbath tune, where an ominous, heavy bass progression underscores Williams’ plea for someone to “undo my logic/ undo my fear.”
If your Valentine’s Day went swimmingly well, avoid this album at all costs. But if you need a good bawl, Lucinda Williams is your new best friend. (K-W Record, February 22, 2007)
Amy Winehouse – Back to Black (Island/Universal)
Winehouse became a platinum success in her native UK with her debut album of hip-hop inflected jazz pop, but here she comes out swinging with a sassy set of soul that draws equally from Motown and Phil Spector girl groups of the 60s. Producer Mark Ronson, who helmed some of Christina Aguilera’s recent comeback, gives her a punchy, vintage sound courtesy of a brassy horn section and members of Sharon Jones’s Daptones and Antibalas—you’d be hard to find two modern acts better at reproducing old school soul and funk. And the 22-year old Winehouse has the pipes to belt out bangers dedicated to dissing rehab and deadbeat dudes; her lyrics betray a bit too much of her bratty youth, but that barely matters when she’s got the sound down. (K-W Record, January 11 2007)
You Say Party! We Say Die! – Lose All the Time (Paper Bag/Universal)
Death and loss might be themes in this Vancouver band's moniker and album title, but you'd never infer that from the joyous racket they stir up on their first proper full-length.
This is more than just a racket, however. Vocalist Becky Ninkovic kick off the record by yelling "This is a test! This is a test!" Except that they already got their test out of the way, on 2005's debut EP, which landed them plenty of live dates across Canada and in Europe. The EP suggested a flash-in-the-pan one-trick-pony, not unlike Toronto's Controller Controller or Vancouver's The Organ, who also tapped the darker side of early 80s post-punk pop before hitting a creative glass ceiling and calling it quits.
What separates YSP!WSD! from a crowded field of compatriots is their versatility, amply displayed on these 12 tracks, an early contender for best Canadian debut of 2007. Ninkovic easily moves between yelping punk ingénue ala the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' Karen O, to a brooding crooner like late period PJ Harvey. Meanwhile, the band behind her don't depend on mere disco beats to ensure danceability, and have enough sense of dynamics to pull off a sparse piano ballad.
They close the album by advising, "Don't say goodbye: say, 'good journey.'" They have a long, promising and productive one ahead of them. (K-W Record, March 15, 2007)
Friday, January 12, 2007
Friends in Bellwoods
Scene-based compilations, as a rule, usually suck. There's usually one or two tracks worth salvaging for radio play or mix CDs, but more often than not the whole affair is bogged down with scene politics and nepotism. Every enterprising indie musician thinks that assembling a compilation is a great idea at some early point in their career; soon enough, they learn that it's often not much of a help to anyone, and no one buys them.
Friends in Bellwoods breaks all these rules. This is a 2CD, 36-artist compilation based around a group of friends in one band, who congregate at one house, and their extended family in Southwestern Ontario, Ottawa and Montreal. Eleven of the artists are directly related to Ohbijou, whose Casey Mejica and James Bunton assembled the whole affair; many other tracks feature members of that band as guest players.
Sounds like a navel-gazing wormhole, doesn't it? Yet I can confidently say that, without a question, this is one of the finest documents of a time and place that I've ever heard. Even the few throwaways here have a certain charm. And though I like to think I know a thing or two about what's happening in this area, ten of these artists are totally new to me. Many of the tracks fall in line with Ohbijou's brand of melancholy folk-pop, but there's so much more: electro, ambient, country, psych... enough to keep you guessing, yet consistent enough to avoid any harsh left turns. Plus, it's well sequenced, another forgotten skill with most compilations.
The word "community" gets thrown about far too often in music writing, especially when it comes to Canadians these days, but this is a living example of what the word truly means.
Both the CD release show tonight at the Tranzac and the CD itself are benefits for the always worthy Daily Bread Food Bank.
Some names you might recognize, if you've paid a modicum of attention to Toronto's indie scene in the past year: Snailhouse [from Montreal], Meligrove Band, The Acorn [from Ottawa], Rural Alberta Advantage, Forest City Lovers [from London], Kids on TV, the D'Urbervilles [from Guelph], etc.
It also marks the debut of three solo projects from members of considerably more prominent Canadian acts: Sebastien Grainger of Death From Above 1979 re-invents himself as a folkie; drummer Jeremy Gara of Arcade Fire contributes the Tim Hecker-ish electronic textures he's been playing live for a couple of years now; and the Constantines' Bry Webb sings a Lou Reed song with Mejica. His new band, the Paramedics, features Mike Feuerstack of Snailhouse, Pat Conan (ex-Tricky Woo) and others; they make their Toronto debut at the CD release show tonight at the Tranzac.
Torontopians need to hear this album out of sheer civic duty; listeners from afar should consider it an essential primer on what's happening here.
Thankfully, there's been an avalanche of press, namely this cover story in Eye by Stuart Berman. Sarah Liss at Now also had a chat.
I conducted this interview with Casey Mejica for a piece that ran in the Kitchener-Waterloo Record yesterday.
Friends in Bellwoods breaks all these rules. This is a 2CD, 36-artist compilation based around a group of friends in one band, who congregate at one house, and their extended family in Southwestern Ontario, Ottawa and Montreal. Eleven of the artists are directly related to Ohbijou, whose Casey Mejica and James Bunton assembled the whole affair; many other tracks feature members of that band as guest players.
Sounds like a navel-gazing wormhole, doesn't it? Yet I can confidently say that, without a question, this is one of the finest documents of a time and place that I've ever heard. Even the few throwaways here have a certain charm. And though I like to think I know a thing or two about what's happening in this area, ten of these artists are totally new to me. Many of the tracks fall in line with Ohbijou's brand of melancholy folk-pop, but there's so much more: electro, ambient, country, psych... enough to keep you guessing, yet consistent enough to avoid any harsh left turns. Plus, it's well sequenced, another forgotten skill with most compilations.
The word "community" gets thrown about far too often in music writing, especially when it comes to Canadians these days, but this is a living example of what the word truly means.
Both the CD release show tonight at the Tranzac and the CD itself are benefits for the always worthy Daily Bread Food Bank.
Some names you might recognize, if you've paid a modicum of attention to Toronto's indie scene in the past year: Snailhouse [from Montreal], Meligrove Band, The Acorn [from Ottawa], Rural Alberta Advantage, Forest City Lovers [from London], Kids on TV, the D'Urbervilles [from Guelph], etc.
It also marks the debut of three solo projects from members of considerably more prominent Canadian acts: Sebastien Grainger of Death From Above 1979 re-invents himself as a folkie; drummer Jeremy Gara of Arcade Fire contributes the Tim Hecker-ish electronic textures he's been playing live for a couple of years now; and the Constantines' Bry Webb sings a Lou Reed song with Mejica. His new band, the Paramedics, features Mike Feuerstack of Snailhouse, Pat Conan (ex-Tricky Woo) and others; they make their Toronto debut at the CD release show tonight at the Tranzac.
Torontopians need to hear this album out of sheer civic duty; listeners from afar should consider it an essential primer on what's happening here.
Thankfully, there's been an avalanche of press, namely this cover story in Eye by Stuart Berman. Sarah Liss at Now also had a chat.
I conducted this interview with Casey Mejica for a piece that ran in the Kitchener-Waterloo Record yesterday.
Casey Mejica
January 4, 2007
locale: a phoner, taking a break from her dayjob as production assistant at CITY-TV
What’s your role here?
It’s something Jamie and I took on in the summer. We took a look at all our friends around us playing music and figured we should make a compilation of all this crazy amazing stuff going on. Bellwoods is a house where I live with my sister Jenn and our roommate Kim. We recorded at the house, and this captures everything that’s gone on there in the last year or so.
How long have you been at that address?
A little more than a year. Not too long, but not long enough.
How did you find yourself in the Trinity-Bellwoods neighbourhood? Is it not ridiculously expensive to live next to a big park?
It’s not expensive at all. It’s a steal for us. (off-the-record rent disclosure) We were biking by one day and met the guy who was renovating the house. We talked to him, he was a young guy, and he said, ‘Sure, you can live here.’ And we were like, ‘Sweet!’ (laughs) I’m surprised how cheap it is. I’m sure if it was any other guy renting it, it would be really expensive.
How often do you have house shows?
Every now and then. We’ve had six or seven, just enough to make every one special.
How many of these artists have played at your house shows?
Probably eight. The rest have some sort of connection with us, either recording in the basement or having a beer with us on the front porch.
How many bands on here are directly associated with members of Ohbijou?
Ryan Carley is in We’re Marching On and Alight. Heather played bass in Gentleman Reg. Annissa plays cello on several tracks. A lot of us lend instruments to tracks on the comp. Jonas Bonnetta recorded at our house and Jamie happened to have his trumpet there, so he played on that track.
Can you think of other scene-based compilations that rank among your favourites, one that really capture a time and place?
There was the Social Arts one, that was pretty neat. I think it was called Social Hearts. That was an introduction to a lot of Guelph bands I hadn’t heard before. And the Blocks compilation that came out a couple of years ago [Toronto is the Best], I liked that as well. But other than those two, I don’t really remember any others.
Usually these are done either by a group of friends, or for political reasons, or for a radio station, and they tend to suck or just not be very consistent. I’m amazed at the consistency of this one spread over two discs, especially considering that it’s primarily a group of friends.
We weren’t expecting it to be that big. And I’m sure it could have been bigger, but I’m happy how it ended.
How important was it to focus on unreleased tracks? Why not put out greatest hits of your favourite acts? It’s not like any of them are overexposed.
This was more participatory. People had to come to our basement and record. It was nice how people would come over and sit and hang out. It’s nice for people buying it, too, to have new things. It’s nice to hear Sebastien [Grainger of Death From Above 1979] sing an acoustic song. It introduces people to things that these artists might not be known for, like [the Constantines’] Bry Webb singing quietly.
Those two artists will be surprising for people, whereas [Arcade Fire’s] Jeremy Gara, for example, has toured with his ambient soundscapey material before. But to the best of my knowledge, this is the first time his solo stuff has appeared on disc, no?
I think so. I emailed him and he was so eager to participate. That’s one thing with everyone who contributed: they were all really eager and we didn’t have to chase anyone. It all took one email and one follow-up. And it’s for a good cause, so…
It’s not paying for renos at the house, or anything.
No. Not that we don’t need them.
But those slackers in The Acorn, their track just came out on their new EP!
I know! They said they were going to give us one that was new, but they couldn’t put it together. But that’s a good track.
Are most of the people here transplants to Toronto?
A lot of these people have traveled here for school or for a change of scenery. A lot of them are from small towns.
What do you think that says about the Toronto music scene?
I think the Toronto scene is made up of small cities, small communities who like the same kind of music. Because it’s so big and populated, people naturally gravitate to others who like the same kind of music, or are inspired by what others are doing. It becomes these little pockets of people in different areas of Toronto doing their own thing and making shit happen and keeping music inspiring. Some people think Toronto is so big, but when you look at it in a different way, there are little cities everywhere.
Your house seems like a city in itself after this comp. But do you think that creative types will always end up in the big city, and are these feeder towns doomed to perpetual turnover and brain drain?
I don’t think so. Tim Ford is still doing amazing things in Brantford, and people like Jonas Bonnetta are doing really important things in places like Peterborough, keeping indie music and music in general really creative and bustling. I don’t think everyone moves here, but a lot of people do. The people who love their towns stay there and do good work there. Especially Tim Ford, but everyone knows that.
Are you very conscious of this record being a time capsule of this point in time in Toronto?
When Jamie and I were talking about it, we’ve always realised that the fun of living at this house and everyone’s bands being popular will eventually peter off. Three Gut reached a height and then eventually petered off. Everything has its moment, and it’s nice to relish it for a little bit and then move on to something else. It’s nice to have something to mark a really good time that we’re having in our lives right now.
How are things in the Ohbijou camp? What’s happened since the album came out in September?
We had some pretty amazing moments. Playing with Joanna Newsom was really amazing. She was really down to earth, and getting to play in front of her crowd of people and being well received was really heartwarming. And the Virginfest was really mindblowing, because I don’t even know how we ended up there. But getting the opportunity to play there was really nice. Meeting Wayne Coyne, someone who in our minds is really amazing, and finding out he was so humble and so nice and sat there chatting with us at breakfast. It was one of the most surreal moments, sitting there eating bacon and eggs with Wayne and his bandmates at nine o’clock in the morning and we were the only other ones in the tent. He was there from the very beginning to the very end, and sat on stage when we played and was so nice to us. It was like, wow, that’s how everyone should be in music. It was so humbling. And playing the Sarah Harmer show to save the tree in Oakville was a really great experience, especially because the tree actually got saved.
Oh, did it? I never heard the end of that story.
Yeah, it’s been preserved. It meant a lot to Ryan, especially. His grandfather is a big defender of the tree because he’s lived in Oakville for so long, and is a big guy in agriculture. He got an Order of Canada for setting up radio systems in third world countries—I don’t know, it’s a big long story that Ryan will tell you better than I will.
I also heard that you did a collaborative thing with Kids on TV for CBC Radio. How exactly did that work out?
Yeah, we did this show Fuse in front of a live audience, and it felt like a show from the 50s or something. We arrived in Ottawa and had six hours to practice together. We met the day before also to go over some things. It was really difficult to try and mix the two. With more time we could have done it better. Johnny played cowbell with us; they were kind of limited in terms of instruments. But when we accompanied them it was really exciting, and we added strings and things. Johnny said the word ‘cock’ on the radio and stripped down to his underwear; it felt like they really shook up the CBC, and it was nice to witness that. Alan Neale was just like, ‘Oh my!’ We were going to try and do it again. Kids on TV are doing a show at the Music Gallery, so we might back them up there.
It’s funny that they said the word ‘cock’ on the CBC, because I once met a DJ at either CKUT or CISM—one of the Montreal campus stations—who had been suspended for playing a Kids on TV track with the word ‘cock’ in it.
Really? Weird. Well, on the CBC they let them get away with the word ‘cockwolf,’ but when it was just the word ‘cock’ they put a chicken sound over it. There’s one song called “Breakdance Hunx” where he says it all the time, and it’s all overdubbed with a chicken, which is hilarious.
Back to the CD for a second, there are 36 people here and only 10 that I’m not familiar with. Some of them I’m curious about, particularly the Dinghies, which sounds remarkably like you, which would mean four tracks here feature you on lead vocals.
The Dinghies is Tim Fagan of We’re Marching On and myself duetting to a song that Chris Stringer—who recorded the We’re Marching On album—did all the instrumentation along with a friend and then sent it to us to do vocals. We spent one day in the basement drinking wine and singing to each other.
How many things here are one-offs? The opening track [credited to The Bellwoods Crew], obviously.
Yeah, that one and the Dinghies. That might be it. Nuts and Bahai Cassette are projects from boys that used to do Social Arts, and as far as I know they’re both continuing.
Who is Nina Nielsen of Norway?
That’s the girlfriend of Gavin Gardiner of Friday Morning’s Regret. Apparently, and I don’t know if this is true, but she’s really well known in Norway and was just nominated for something similar to the Polaris Prize. I could be wrong. But she has a really lovely voice. She lives in Toronto with Gavin, but is a Norwegian expatriate.
I hadn’t heard of Jonas Bonnetta before this comp, but I see he’s playing around quite a bit. Is he a lynchpin in Peterborough?
He recently moved there this year, from Orono, maybe. He does basement shows and has a radio show at Trent University and has a recording studio. He’s just starting to get that city stirring, kind of the same way Tim Ford did in Brantford. He’s had basement shows with the D’Urbervilles and Kat Burns and stuff. It’s starting to bustle.
Oak Oak?
That’s our roommate Kim England, and she’s never recorded or sang before in her life. She really wanted to contribute to it. We were on a farm in rural Quebec, and she wrote a tune that we all put instruments to. She’s a visual artist, but she really wanted to represent the house.
Are there other debuts here?
Hmmm. Allan Graham, who plays in Nervous Sleepers and used to play in Black Cat and Sick Lipstick, he has Elliott Smith-ish solo stuff going on. Water Colour is Ryan Carley by himself. Tusks is the new band for Samir Khan [of Kepler] and I’d never heard anything recorded by them before; they came to our basement and that was fun.
Grand Mouse House?
That’s Andrew Kinoshita, who plays mandolin with Ohbijou.
Nich Worby?
He’s from Brantford, he’s on the Ford Plant label, and used to date my sister. He recorded this album with Jamie and Heather. That was done in our basement too, with all of us yelling.
Purple Hill?
That’s Owen from From Fiction, his alt-country thing he’s doing now after the death of From Fiction, and it’s really good.
That’s a shift!
A total shift! I think his soul belongs to this type of music, because he’s really from a different time period if you meet him and talk to him. He speaks country and should be playing it, I think. Even though From Fiction was so good.
What do you think the Paramedics [Bry Webb's new band] are all about?
He’s playing with a full band and Mike Feuerstack is in it, so it should be really interesting. Sebastian Grainger is headlining the show in Toronto, and it’s him, Nick from the Illuminati and Leon [Taheny, of Germans and Final Fantasy], and it’s supposed to be really loud. I thought it would be more like the track on the disc [which is quiet and subdued] but it’s not.
-end-
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