Polaris 2011 predictions, day five

Polaris prize prognostications, day five.

Keep in mind that the only year I’ve successfully predicted the winner was the inaugural ceremony, when it went to Final Fantasy (which everyone else thought was a dark horse). Since then, however, the closest I’ve come to betting-pool success is thinking Caribou had a good shot for Andorra (he won), though even then I thought it would go to the Weakerthans. So make of all that what you will.

I’ve said it before: this year’s shortlist is the most satisfying to me, and I’ll be happy if anyone but Hey Rosetta takes home the prize. And among the substitutions I’ve been advocating for all week, there’s really only two or three that I think should be on the shortlist in place of something that’s already there.

Hats off to Steve Jordan, Liisa Ladouceur and everyone else who puts the prize together, and I’m very sad that I’m going to have to miss this year’s gala (though I have a pretty fun, once-in-a-lifetime excuse).

With that, here’s the final installment.

Timber Timbre – Creep On Creeping On (Arts and Crafts)

The album: Oh, Taylor Kirk of Timber Timbre is creepy, all right. But when you’re going for a certain mood and trying to create genuine tension, does it help to give your album such a campy title? Worse yet, write that phrase into the chorus of the title track? For some, Kirk is moving into schtick territory with this, his fourth album of David Lynch-ian, ’50s nightmare flashbacks and backwoods weirdness. For many more, however, Kirk continues to step up his game, to inherit his Elvis-in-hell persona, and to inject more cinematic terror into his tunes.

He did most of this better on his last album, 2009’s self-titled release, but that’s not the point here. This is his first record made after touring with a band, which makes the music sound considerably more confident and gives it a certain strut; in particular, violinist Mika Posen (Forest City Lovers) provides essential textures, what David Dacks calls “Nelson Riddle meets Stravinsky” in his excellent Exclaim piece on the band.

The album is split between actual songs and cinematic interludes; the latter are often more effective at creating bonafide creepiness. That’s in part because they’re so well-constructed, but it’s also because Kirk’s lyrics and delivery are at times too self-conscious.

Take, for example, his deadpan delivery in “Lonesome Hunter”: “What did that bad man put in you? Did those wrong kids cross a line? I’m afraid I’ll never understand, baby, and I’m so sorry you had such a bad time. Well, I’ve done some truly awful things. And you must be very terrified. You have every reason to be frightened, since you’ve been reading my mind.” It’s not like those lyrics are inherently awful, the way they’re delivered here, I’m not buying them.

Musically, it’s hard to fault anything on this album, other than the moment when the title track segues into "Black Water" using the same key and same tempo and featuring the same plinky-piano eighth notes. Opener “Bad Ritual” is perhaps Kirk’s finest recorded moment, setting his ghoulish atmosphere to a groove he admits he ripped off the RZA; before now, you’d never have guessed Timber Timbre could be funky.

The chances: Fair. Could be a compromise candidate. And Polaris owes Timber Timbre something, after the 2009 album failed to make that year’s shortlist and yet won Eye Weekly’s cross-Canada critics’ poll that year—making one wonder how it could top a national poll and yet not make the top 10 in a process featuring those same journalists. One has to assume they were all Johnny-come-latelies and didn’t hear the album until its rerelease on Arts and Crafts.

More importantly, as Aaron Brophy accurately argues in Maclean’s, Timber Timbre and Austra will split the goth-y witch/warlock vote, so maybe it doesn’t really have any chance at all.

The Weeknd – House of Balloons (independent)

The album: Unlike any other album ever shortlisted for the Polaris, House of Balloons takes place after a night in clubland, when the drugs come out in a room full of glass tables, you leave those pussy-ass niggas behind and the time for subtle come-ons is long over. Those girls over there, with the Louis V. bags, tats on their arms, and high-heeld shoes makin’ them six feet tall? They’re all hos, here to help fuck away the pain lying beneath ever lurid Lothario: “Bring your love, baby, I can bring my shame.”

“Trust me girl, you want to be high for this,” goes the opening track. By the time it’s over, you’ll feel like Tom Cruise at the end of Eyes Wide Shut—not because you’ve just been on an all-night bender at a sex party, but because you just saw a film that looked fantastic, but was patently ridiculous.

Picking out the stupidest lyrics on House of Balloons is a bit of a turkey shoot. But it sure is fun: “I’m on that shit you can’t smell, baby, so put down your perfume.” “Got the walls kicking like they’re six months pregnant.” Or, the one that makes me laugh out loud, a dead-serious lyric in the middle of a so-called seduction: “What you doing in the baffroom? I hear noises in the baffroom!”

Could an album that uses the word “baffroom” really win the Polaris? Absolutely. That’s because lyrics aside—and that’s a big aside—House of Balloons is more than intoxicating from a sonic standpoint: this is a modern, post-R. Kelly R&B record, complete with AutoTune and plenty of quivering falsetto, and yet it’s often set to unnerving, abstract beats, ghostly textures, the weirdest moments of Massive Attack or Prince’s Black Album, and electronic sounds usually only favoured by reclusive post-industrial sound artists from Finland.

Abel Tesfaye, the 21-year-old University of Toronto student who’s been playing hard to get with all media ever since he posted this album as a free download (don’t expect him to show up at the gala), manages to take all those influences and create something magical, mysterious and stunning. Those lyrics? You actually don’t notice them at all unless you’re listening closely, because Tesfaye has a strong soul voice—he doesn’t need that AutoTune, it’s employed as a disembodying effect—that could make just about anything sound sweet and seductive. Which means that “The Morning” is the most beautiful, tender song you’ve ever heard about a “house full of hoes that specialize in hoe-in’.”

The chances: Strong. By bridging pop music and avant-garde production with modern soul, there’s nothing else on the list that sounds like this, and it stands alone in modern R&B—for starters, its miles ahead of other supposed game-changers like Kanye West’s 808 and Heartbreak. And if all the indie rockers in the jury room start fighting each other, this could come straight up the middle.

Alternates:

Rural Alberta Advantage – Departing (Paper Bag)

The album: (poached from my March 2011 review) We’re told Alberta is all about the economy: it’s the province that doesn’t run deficits (or at least, until recently); it’s the province without a sales tax; it’s the province whose oil sands are the engine of the Canadian economy; it’s the province that sends politicians to Ottawa who are all about fiscal restraint.

The Rural Alberta Advantage is by no means a political band, but they are certainly an economical one. There is no dead weight in this trio, not a note out of place in these 10 songs delivered in 32 minutes, and there is plenty of space surrounding the succinct melodies of frontman Nils Edenloff. Departing delivers considerable improvements from the band’s promising debut, with drummer Paul Banwatt (also of Woodhands) punctuating every song with propulsive, syncopated beats that set the group far apart from its influences or peers; multi-instrumentalist Amy Cole not only softens Edenloff’s nasal tenor, but her additional percussion and keyboards add subtle but extremely effective texture. Edenloff plays guitar, but never as a crutch; for an indie-rock trio, it’s to their credit that the guitar is the least important instrument here.

If there’s a flaw here, it’s that Edenloff’s voice is a bit too thin to sell the songs, and he pushes it to its limits—but then again, a more proficient belter might make this too bombastic. It would be almost too easy to transform these songs into Arcade Fire anthems, but Rural Alberta Advantage are content to carve out their own niche. And you can take that to the bank.

Why it didn’t make the shortlist: That’s a total mystery, other than that the indie-rock vote is pretty widely split. I figured it would be a shoo-in, although the nasal vocals are a stumbling block for many.

Sloan – The Double Cross (Outside)

The album:
(poached from my May 2011 review. Apologies for the plagiarism, it’s a very busy week.)

When celebrating your 20^th anniversary, the last thing you want is people wondering: are they still around? Or worse: why are they still around? Sloan provide definitive answers to both by coming out swinging on their tenth album.

For a band that has always prided itself on being a four-way democracy, there have always been albums where someone isn’t pulling their weight. This is not one of them: every member brings their best game to the table, not just individually—they’ve had a tendency to retreat to their silos in the past—but together, as on the Chris Murphy/Andrew Scott song “She’s Slowing Down Again,” or the way some songs cross-pollinate, inserting a chorus of one into the coda of another. Jay Ferguson, the most consistent Sloan songwriter of the last decade, once again scores the album’s sweetest spots (notably “Green Gardens Cold Montreal,” an acoustic gem), and Patrick Pentland’s rockers sound much more inspired here than he has lately.

If anniversaries are a moment for self-examination, this band’s 20th proved to be a rallying point to give them a raison d’etre. There’s no point sitting around and waiting for radio royalties and festival paycheques to roll in, and so The Double Cross sounds like they’re proving something to themselves as much as their fairweather fans. There isn’t a wasted moment in any of these 12 songs: it’s the sound of a band that is still very much alive and fighting, not resting on a recorded legacy but continuing to make it.

Why it didn’t make the shortlist: The Double Cross came out in May, right before the June deadline, so jurors didn’t get to spend their summer beer bashes letting it soak in. But the more obvious reason is jurors taking geezers for granted (although, hello, Ron Sexsmith), and Sloan certainly played up said status by talking up their 20^th anniversary in all the press for the album. (The album title is a Roman numeral joke.) No matter how much our collective youth may have been informed by the likes of Sloan, The Tragically Hip, Blue Rodeo or other CanRock icons, it’s unlikely any of their new records will ever sneak onto a shortlist.

Polaris 2011 predictions, day four

Predictions for the Polaris Prize, to be handed out Monday, September 19.

Ron Sexsmith – Long Player Late Bloomer (Warner)

The album: Ron Sexsmith has been underestimated his entire life, and so more than 15 years after his major label debut (which was almost dumped before it came out, were it not for the intervention of Elvis Costello), few expected him to come back swinging the way he does here, his fifth truly great record. (The others would be Grand Opera Lane, the self-titled album, Whereabouts and Cobblestone Runway.)

Whether it’s just chance that his songwriting stepped up from his last several lukewarm releases, or whether it was the intervention of producer Bob Rock (who also resurrected The Tragically Hip from a lazy period), Long Player Late Bloomer displays Sexsmith as a master melodicist, a songwriting student of the greats who knows how to use more than just major and minor chords and still sound beautifully simple, and a lyricist with a knack for rhyme schemes and turns of phrase.

He also manages to poke fun at his own underdog, sad-sack status on songs like the title track, "Believe It When I See It" and "Get In Line" (“If you’re bent on bringing me down/ take a number and get in line”), and he does so without ever being maudlin or overly self-referential; any specifics in Sexsmith’s songs are easily applied to the universal, like the hard-luck narrative "Michael and His Dad."

There are plenty of reasons why Sexsmith’s songwriting heroes sing his praises, and why young artists want to work with him: he knows his craft inside out, and here he’s largely on top of his game. I only say “largely” because the last five of these 13 tracks drag the momentum down to a crawl; among this album’s many strengths, sequencing is obviously one of them.

Trivia fact: Not only is Sexsmith the oldest artist on the list, he’s also the only one on a major label.

The chances: Slim. While this is undoubtedly Sexsmith’s finest work in almost 10 years, which is why it deserves to be on this list, the final third doesn’t hold up. Also, I’d be shocked if a Polaris jury went for something this conventional, conservative, straightforward and pretty.

Colin Stetson – Judges: New History of Warfare Vol. 2 (Constellation)

The album: Here it is, the weirdo whipping boy of this year’s Polaris prize. This is the album that people point to and start talking about what a “weird” shortlist we have this year, how Polaris can’t ever possibly be a populist prize (hello, Arcade Fire?), and how critics are obviously a snobby bunch who reward technical accomplishment and artistic adventure over music that anyone would actually want to listen to. On the flip side, you have critics patting themselves on the back ad nauseum for rewarding such obviously uncommercial music in a fit of self-congratulatory frenzy.

The best quip so far about this dilemma comes from Aaron Brophy of the late Chart Attack, saying the task for jurors was to “debate whether Colin Stetson's work constitutes sonic beauty, or the equivalent of punching a goose in the chest and then recording and looping its death wheezes.”

If you don’t know by now, Colin Stetson is an in-demand sideman (Arcade Fire, Bell Orchestre, Bon Iver, Tom Waits) who not only plays solo saxophone (the bass saxophone, mostly, a behemoth of an instrument), but he plays every single part of that saxophone: the clicks, the clucks, the thucks, the what-the-fucks, often while singing through it at the same time. He accomplishes all this through circular breathing, and there are no overdubs or loops on the album at all, other than vocals from Laurie Anderson (with whom Stetson has toured) and Shara Worden (My Brightest Diamond). Contrary to popular belief, his music is composed, not improvised—and therefore it is not “free jazz,” which it is often referred to as.

There’s no question that what Stetson does is unique, even though other people have used aspects of his technique before. And the production is astounding, the way the engineers (including Godspeed’s Efrim Menuck) capture every intimate sound emerging from Stetson’s body via the saxophone. (I’d argue that the reason other avant-garde records don’t reach a mass audience is not inherently the content, but because they don’t sound as fabulous as this record does.)

But is it any good? Of course it is. It’s alternately subtly evocative and overwhelming. It’s both meditative and assaultive. Its undulating arpeggios lull the listener any which way Stetson wants us to go, tiny melodies emerging from the waves and beckoning us to listen just a little closer. It’s an album that, unlike every single pop record that’s ever been on this list, doesn’t tell you what to think; your experience with it will change every single time, depending on your mood, your environment, and your sound system.

The only major drawback is that yes, it is repetitive and can sound like a one-trick pony. But what a beautiful pony! What an amazing ride!

And there, folks, is the cheesiest thing I’ve said about any record all year, perhaps any record ever.

For shits and giggles, read my in-depth interview with Stetson here, conducted before anyone thought this would be anything more than another weird Montreal record on Constellation.

The chances: Slim, for all the obvious reasons. But if for some reason he did win it, he’d be the first American artist to do so: Stetson was born and raised in Michigan, started his career in New York City and San Francisco, and moved to Montreal to live with Sarah Neufeld of Bell Orchestre and Arcade Fire.

The alternates:

Selina Martin – Disaster Fantasies (independent)

The album: (partially poached from my September 2010 review) Disaster Fantasies displays Martin as an ambitious singer/songwriter with a knockout voice and the ability to corral her artier tendencies into a commanding power pop band; it’s an album that works on an entirely visceral level, with no shortage of catchy earworms and bold rock guitars. And yet there are tonnes of tiny tasty bits in every corner, whether it’s Rheostatics guitarist Martin Tielli noodling noisily underneath “I Know Dullness,” Laura Barrett’s kalimba on “News of Her Death,” or Martin herself playing wine glasses or tapping the loose end of a plugged-in patch cord as part of a rhythm track. Producer Chris Stringer (the D’Urbervilles, Timber Timbre) helps Martin paint vivid sonic portraits and brings the entire project into clear focus, amplifying the rock elements and leaving space for acoustic intimacy (“Throw Me in the Water”).

Though she pulls of power pop with aplomb—the “Misty Mountain Hop” vibe of “No Form,” the Cheap Trick nod on “The Hottest Day,” the direct influence of the Rheostatics on “I Know Dullness” (Martin has collaborated with that band often, and this album features engineering and mixing from Michael Philip Wojewoda)—it’s the ballads where she shines the strongest: “Throw Me In the Water,” “Breathe In” and “Always On My Mind” all candidates for song of the year.

Why it didn’t make the shortlist (or long list): An independent release with mostly local publicity, it likely didn’t have enough national traction to make an impact, despite the best efforts of Robert Everett-Green of the Globe and Mail, who wrote this article and several other laudatory pieces. Or maybe writers weren’t intrigued by an album with a song called “Rape During Wartime”?

Doug Paisley – Constant Companion (No Quarter)

The album: There was no better album for taking to a Canadian cottage this year than Doug Paisley’s second release: the songs, all anchored by Paisley’s warm acoustic guitar, all sound like campfire singalongs and lullabies; Garth Hudson of The Band can be heard noodling tastefully underneath many of the tracks; the drums sound soft and gentle, like there are pillows over the snare and every tom; the harmonies between humble-voiced Paisley and Jennifer Castle sound like a veteran couple who grew up singing “Four Strong Winds” together.

So he has a late-night soft-rock vibe down to a T—so what? So do several dozen other Canucks plugging away. The difference with Paisley is all in the songwriting: every single song here sounds like a Gordon Lightfoot classic or a Townes Van Zant greatest (non-)hits package. The arrangements are impeccable: there’s never too much or too little going on; every note is just right.

When Paisley blows up large, expect thousands of people to claim they were on to him first.

Why it didn’t make the shortlist: While it’s great that Ron Sexsmith made it, it’s a shame there wasn’t room for more than one singer/songwriter, because Paisley’s album is nothing short of perfect. This came out on a tiny American label (not even one known for singer/songwriters; most of its acts are psychedelic rock) and caught traction slowly and by word of mouth. Its initial appeal was primarily a Toronto-only phenomenon; the album was re-released by Maple a few months back, and expect his next record to get a much bigger push.

Polaris 2011 predictions, day three

Day three of Polaris Prize predictions, featuring two albums from the shortlist and two alternate suggestions.

Galaxie – Tigre et Diesel (C4)

The album: Only in Quebec would a band think to match ’70s blues rock with electro beats and shades of Krautrock. And only in Quebec could such a band make it work so brilliantly as Galaxie does. Every wonder what it would sound like if Quintron produced a collaboration between ZZ Top and Neu? No, I hadn’t either. But thank God it exists.

Though this is one of the more obscure albums on the list, it most certainly does not deserve to be. Anyone who thinks this was an oddball addition to the shortlist quite obviously hasn’t ever listened to it. Tigre et Diesel should be heard on classic rock stations across the country, be blasting out of cars at the beach, and soundtracking your next backyard BBQ. It’s sweaty, it’s sexy, and it’s built equally for fist-pumping, disco dancing and spacing out. Just another night on St. Denis, really.

This is one of only two francophone albums to ever make a Polaris list that I can completely get behind (the other was La Patere Rose, long listed two years ago, and I’m still disappointed that Pas Chic Chic was completely ignored by Polaris jurors several years back—and everyone else, it seems). Bandleader and singer Olivier Langevin makes you instantly forget that old adage that I heard a French actor repeat on stage at TIFF this week: “French rock’n’roll is like English wine.” Not anymore it’s not.

The chances: Slim. I’m going to assume there will be an unspoken, unconscious bias in the jury room against awarding the award to a francophone band two years in a row. But just being on the shortlist is a major coup for this band; hopefully they’ve been able to translate it into wider exposure and bring the rock to TROC. Watch them slay on gala night.

Hey Rosetta – Seeds (Sonic)

The album: Can someone explain to me the difference between Hey Rosetta and Hootie and the Blowfish?

I’m not being facetious here. I really don’t get it. There’s something patently offensive to me about a band being emo and intense about songs that really don’t deserve it. I like the music they aspire to make—there are nods to Arcade Fire’s more blustery moments here. Not that it works, though, nor do the artier moments that sound like a poor man’s Karkwa. You can’t build to a climax without any tension or road map to a big finish. The string section is a part of the core band, but they sound grafted on to everything and not employed particularly effectively. Don’t get me started on the track with the Inuit folk singers, which seems to have been concocted at some CBC Radio 2 programming meeting (not terrible in principle, but horribly executed).

The chances: In a year with so much heavyweight talent, I’m going to have to say slim. And if this wins, I’m going to start throwing tables.

The alternates:

Eternia & Moss – At Last (Urbnet)

The album: “They tell me that I’m too late / too wordy / too white.” Well, whoever “they are,” they’re dead wrong. Ottawa MC Eternia has been around for the better part of a decade, but this is as good an introduction to her work as any, and the title (apologies to Etta James) is more than apt—this is easily not only a personal best, but the most gripping hip-hop album released in Canada in the last year.

With stunning, raw backing beats from MoSS (Raekwon, Ghostface Killah), drawing from ’70s funk and film soundtracks—and bearing the obvious influence of his highest profile fan, Gang Starr’s DJ Premier—Eternia’s furious flow spins mostly autobiographical tales. And she has more than a few stories to tell: abusive father, restraining orders, shotguns, alcoholism, sexual assault, Catholic redemption … you name it, she’s lived it and come through stronger. This isn’t a confessional or just about one woman’s pain, however; Eternia is engaging and dynamic throughout, and earns every bit of her braggadocio by outshining high-profile guests like Rah Digga and Maestro Fresh Wes.

Why it didn’t make the shortlist: Eternia is pure, raw hip-hop, unlike the likes of Shad, K’naan and K-OS, who all balance their beats with acoustic guitars and pop songs. That puts her in a uphill battle for crossover appeal, yet anyone who’s ever loved hip-hop can appreciate the mastery at work here. Again, in a less competitive year, she’d likely have had a better shot.

It Kills – s/t (independent)

The album: This was the most pleasant surprise of the 2010/11 Polaris fiscal year, a Halifax trio who sound alternately like a string quartet, a chamber choir, and a small ensemble scoring a Hal Hartley film. Fans of early 4AD recordings (This Mortal Coil) will find plenty to appreciate here, as will people who appreciate the Constellation Records roster but don’t feel like slitting their wrists on a regular basis. While It Kills do have their somber, morning-after-the-apocalypse moments, they’re never dour or outright depressing; there’s a lot of sunlight breaking through that Halifax fog here. They’re incredibly evocative, and, being a trio, are capable of making a lot out of very little—which every decent film composer knows how to do. They’re not invited to the Polaris gala in Toronto at the end of the month, but if they’re smart they’ll be slumming around TIFF this week trying to get some gigs.

Why it didn’t make the shortlist (or long list): Because no one’s ever heard of them. And they’re from Halifax.

Polaris 2011 demographics

After six years of the Polaris Prize, where 10 Canadian albums compete for a $30,000 prize (up this year from $20,000), almost everyone expects to be disappointed by the shortlist, where compromised, consensus picks tend to rise to the top rather than people’s passionate favourites.

So before tomorrow’s announcement of the Polaris Prize shortlist, let’s take a last look at the longlist. Released three weeks ago, it is the real conversation starter, and for me, the more interesting document. For better or worse, the 40 records on the longlist are considered the true snapshot of the year in Canadian music.

Let’s look at who’s on the list.

Regionally, Toronto and Montreal still dominate, and Vancouver suffers (which, with the list being announced the day after the hockey riots, must have been another slap to the city’s pride—albeit a comparatively minor one). There are 14 acts from Montreal, 13 from Toronto, and three from Vancouver (Black Mountain, Louise Burns, Destroyer). Tiny Sackville, N.B., gets two: former bandmates Shotgun Jimmie and Frederick Squire. Eight other cities (Hamilton, Halifax, St. John’s, Winnipeg, Kingston, St. Catharines, Calgary and, um, Marin, California) get one apiece.

Two of those Montreal acts, Braids and Dirty Beaches, hail from Calgary and Vancouver originally, though their careers were built in Montreal. Likewise, Buck 65 and Sloan are Haligonians originally, but have lived in Toronto for several years, so are included in that city’s count here. Tim Hecker has ties to Vancouver and Ottawa, but his entire musical career has been based in Montreal.

Four acts can be considered hip-hop or R&B: Buck 65, D-Sisive, Eternia & Moss, and The Weeknd.

Four acts, it can be argued, appeal almost exclusively to the over-30, CBC Radio 2 crowd: Luke Doucet, Ron Sexsmith, Jenn Grant and Doug Paisley. (The latter made my ballot.)

Two acts, Tim Hecker and Colin Stetson, make experimental music that will never, ever be played on CBC Radio during the day. More power to them.

The other 30 acts are, arguably, loosely affiliated with the indie rock world.

There are two francophone acts: the perennially nominated Malajube, and the much more exciting Galaxie (who had a spot on my ballot).

Two acts, Little Scream and Colin Stetson, are American citizens who are landed immigrants in Canada, thereby making them eligible for the Polaris. Both have deep ties to Arcade Fire.

Only nine acts on the list had recording careers 10 years ago. Only four (Neil Young, Sloan, Ron Sexsmith and Buck 65) had recording careers 15 years ago. And, ahem, only one of those had a recording career 40 years ago.

Ten of the 40 albums are debuts.

Two albums were only available as a free download (D-Sisive, The Weeknd).

Only two albums were released directly by a major label (Buck 65, Neil Young).

One album on the list won both the Grammy and Juno award for 2010 Album of the Year—which may well make it an underdog for the Polaris.

Seven artists have been shortlisted before (Arcade Fire, Black Mountain, the Dears, Hey Rosetta, Malajube, Miracle Fortress, Stars). Of those, one—Malajube—have been shortlisted twice before. Seven more artists have been longlisted before (D-Sisive, Tim Hecker, Land of Talk, One Hundred Dollars, Timber Timbre, Women, Young Galaxy). That means 26 artists on this year’s long list have never been nominated for Polaris.

Now let’s look at who didn’t make it.

Four of my picks made the list. I knew that the one that didn’t, Kathryn Calder’s Are You My Mother?, was an underdog, despite the fact that she’s a member of the New Pornographers. Mother is a record of subtle charms; I liked it well enough the first time I heard it, but didn’t grow to love it until later, and now almost a year after its release I enjoy it more and more with every listen, hearing new details all the time and having every one of the album’s many hooks stuck in my head at various points of my week. I was disappointed it didn’t make the list, but not surprised; I didn’t sense it had much critical traction.

Three major artists did not make the long list, much to the apparent shock of many: Drake, Sarah Harmer and Chad Van Gaalen.

Drake should come as a surprise to no one: Polaris is a critics’ prize, and critics do not love Drake. Why would they? He can’t rap, can’t sing, and he’s a morose, self-loathing narcissist whose album is tiresome at best. Not even the industry embraces him: tellingly, he was entirely shut out of the Junos, despite having the most nominations and being asked to host the show. He’s a celebrity posing as an artist, and has a lot to prove before he’s taken seriously.

Sarah Harmer and Chad Van Gaalen have both been shortlisted for Polaris before; Van Gaalen twice, in fact. Yet both of their albums from this year’s qualifying period generated lukewarm shrugs, and as a result were snubbed by Polaris. I suspect no fan of either artist loves them any less, but neither were on top of their game this year.

The only other viable gripes I could entertain about longlist omissions: Jim Bryson and the Weakerthans, Selina Martin, Geoff Berner, Socalled, Forest City Lovers, It Kills, and Kiran Ahluwalia—all of whom made better records than some of the snoozers on the longlist.

Almost half of the records on the longlist I would never listen to all the way through—most of them made by guys with guitars. By my count, over half the artists on the longlist feature either a) a solo guy with a guitar or b) a band led by a guy with a guitar who writes all the songs. Some of those acts made my ballot—but most of them I never even considered, and in some cases, I can’t even tell them apart (Daniel Romano vs. Frederick Squire, for starters).

That said, I’m very excited about the other half: the presence of Hecker and Stetson, the sudden ascent of The Weeknd, the recognition of Neil Young and Ron Sexsmith, the underdog that is Eternia, the charming Hooded Fang, the word-of-mouth buzz that built up Doug Paisley, the comeback story of Sloan, the Quebecois push for Galaxie.

Lots of fine Canadian records did not make the longlist. It speaks volumes about the health of the scene that there was so much to choose from. And so no matter who makes the final cut tomorrow, the conversation is a prize in itself.

But just for the hell of it, here’s my prediction: Arcade Fire, Black Mountain, Braids, Destroyer, Diamond Rings, Eternia & Moss, Galaxie, Doug Paisley, Rural Alberta Advantage, The Weeknd.