Top 20 of 2020: 11-20

My top 20 of 2020, numbers 11-20.

11 Nihiloxica – Kaloli (Crammed Discs). Ugandan drumming through a techno lens. This project started when the Nilotika Cultural Ensemble in Kamapla, Uganda, started playing at a local nightclub in between and during DJ sets. Word spread to Belgium, where a jazz drummer wanted to capture the synergy on tape. After a couple of EPs, this is the debut full-length, featuring two drum kits and electronics augmenting the vivid percussion, for a 21st-century Olatunji experience, a next-gen Congotronics, that doesn't in any way feel like the original tracks are being overshadowed. It's a great record, but on a personal note, it's also a very productive record: for writing, for walking, for housework, for whatever it is you need to do. As long as you're somewhere you can turn it up loud.  

12 Lido Pimienta – Miss Colombia (Anti). I wrote this and this earlier: It’s great. And I say that as someone who didn't at all love Pimienta’s Polaris-winning La Papessa. Everything has stepped up, starting with Pimienta’s own vocals: they’re stronger, express more dynamics and inflection, and generally more emotionally resonant. That’s true of the electronics as well; she’s said part of her challenge here was to make the technology sound beautiful, and she succeeded. The brass arrangements throughout are also a lovely touch. Her blending of Colombian rhythms with electronics more fully developed. The record is roughly divided into two parts: side one is more modern, side two is (mostly) more traditional, with guest spots from South American pop stars Bomba Estereo and the traditional Afro-Colombian percussion/vocal Sexteto Tabala (the collab here will sound familiar to any fans of Caribbean-Colombian legend Toto La Momposina) illustrating the scope of what Pimienta is aiming for—and achieves. And—hey, look! A Grammy nomination for Best Latin Alternative Album.  



And check out this beautiful video made for the Polaris Prize:

13 Marlaena Moore – Pay Attention, Be Amazed! (Flemish Eye). Wrote about this earlier here: It's a good sign when the opening track on your debut album is a song of longing on par with "Nothing Compares 2 U." Yes, this Edmonton performer's "I Miss You" is that good, and so is the rest of the record. Moore has no shortage of great lyrics that document fragility ("You came to see my harvest and you wanted it for free / Now this empty garden is all that's left of me"), and she often delivers them with a voice with just enough waver that you think she might break, but her inner strength pulls through every line. Moore's an incredible torch singer, as closing waltz "Tiger Water" demonstrates, over guitar feedback, vibraphones and snare brushes. "Imposter" borrows from Roxy Music's "More Than This," likely unconsciously, but the album is full of equally killer melodies all her own. "Xmas Oranges" is a total earworm, an acrobatic melody set to chugging cellos and a beguiling chorus: "Christmas oranges / I don't care for sticky citrus / You can't tell the difference between love and fatal interest." Producer Chad Van Gaalen, who's known for an often-hazy and psychedelic '90s aesthetic in his solo work and for others, helps Moore deliver a vivid and colourful sonic backdrop for songs that are part Patsy Cline, part Liz Phair, part Angel Olsen. It's hard not to be impressed with the chutzpah of the album title, but it turns out to be entirely accurate. I can't wait to hear more from this woman.

Also, I'm a sucker for one-shot videos (well, three in this case), no matter how goofy.

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

15 Wye Oak – Horizon EP (Merge). A few years back, this Durham-via-Baltimore duo covered Pat Benatar's "We Belong" for a radio session (watch it here), and it was stunning. That song makes me weepy at the best of times, and Wye Oak managed to make it their own. They didn't have a youth choir behind them at the time, but they do here: the Brooklyn Youth Chorus, who commissioned this work. Normally I find the use of kids choirs in pop music treacly (Benatar notwithstanding), but here they take Jenn Wasner's songs of alienation and dislocation and, to state the obvious, make them sound a lot less lonely, like all those Italian apartment-dwellers singing songs together during the first wave of the lockdown. Of course, these aren't catchy pop songs or simple folk anthems; this is Wye Oak, in all their glorious subtlety and complexity. Almost 15 years into their career, they continue to surprise. I'm extremely grateful they got to record this when they did, before it was no longer possible.

 




16 Deerhoof – Love Lore (Joyful Noise). This band is prolific at the best of times, and the pandemic made them even more so. In addition to a live album and a collection of odds and sods, they released a new album of original material, Greg Saunier covered Voivod's Angel Rat acoustically, and then finally this album of eclectic covers arranged into four long medleys. WIth such output, Deerhoof are more than easy to take for granted, which is why Love Lore is likely getting more attention than the original album released this year: we know what Deerhoof sound like playing their own songs, but what happens when they unleash their powers on others? Only Deerhoof would attempt Ornette Coleman, the Knight Rider theme, Eddy Grant, Stockhausen, Penderecki, Kraftwerk and the Jetsons theme on the same record, rubbing up one another and reinvented in the most magical way. The greatest rock band of the 2000s is still alive and kicking.

 

17 Fiona Apple – Fetch the Bolt Cutters (Sony). This is an uneasy listening record centred around piano and voice and searing lyrics, and yet for me the main appeal is the production, the percussion (drummer Amy Aileen Wood, and percussionist David Garza) and Apple's rhythmic choices, especially on tracks like "Relay," "Newspaper" and "For Her." Apple's strong personality dominates the discussion about this record, which is hardly surprising: it's the most visceral post-#MeToo record to have a large audience, a solidarity message and warning to other women about predatory behaviour, and she laments "yet another woman to whom I won't get through." But it's the band—including bassist Sebastian Steinberg and Apple's own piano work—that I keep coming back for.

18 Nels Cline – Share the Wealth (Blue Note). As much as I love guitarist Nels Cline's playing, in Wilco and elsewhere, I never know what to expect from his solo records. I loved his Blue Note debut Lovers in 2016, a deliberately pretty and "accessible" journey through a varied songbook, everything from Rodgers and Hart to Gabor Szabo to Annette Peacock and Sonic Youth. Share the Wealth is considerably more adventurous, skronky and noisy at times, filled with swing and verve and prog turns and itchy-scratchy avant-garde tumbles into the unknown—in the case of the aptly titled 17-minute epic "Stump the Panel," all in one song. And yes, it's also pretty, as on the relatively straightforward "Nightstand" and "Passed Down." Featuring staple Zorn players Brian Marsella (keys) and Cyro Baptista (percussion), Mr. Bungle bassist Trevor Zorn, Tuatara saxophonist Skerik, and Cline's long-time drummer Scott Amendola, this particular lineup had never played together before recording this album in two days. Cline originally intended to take the sessions and splice them up, but there was so much magic there he didn't bother. With players like this, there's no need for sleight of hand.

19 Sault – (untitled) Rise (Forever Living Originals). Nobody appears to know anything about this British act: whether it's an actual group, or a collection of studio musicians, or some kind of community arts project, or what. What we do know is that this is their fourth full length in the last two years, and the one before this, untitled (Black Is), managed to feature Michael Kiwanuka on one track; otherwise, everyone is completely anonymous. Each record is better than the last, and this features more complete songs rather than sketches, alongside killer grooves throughout. The sound can loosely be labelled soul, tied to no particular time period: big gospel/disco/R&B vocals, either by female soloists or in groupings, lush string sections, live rhythm section, and tasteful arrangements throughout. The raison d'etre, however, is to write songs that speak to the current/eternal unrest: "Fearless," "Street Fighter," "Uncomfortable," "Scary Times"—you get the idea. They sound all the more essential because so very few others appear to be doing this, or at least doing it this well. Closing track "Little Boy" is heartbreaking.

 

20 C. Diab – White Whale (Injazero). This album is the musical equivalent of escaping from the current shitshow to a Pacific Coast cabin during a rainstorm and just droning out with bowed guitar that sounds like a one-man Godspeed filtered through Loscil and Martin Tielli. It's not just bowed guitar, there are a few things going on here, none of which are ambient or soothing, but this does have a powerful catharsis of calm, if that makes an iota of sense. This is a very interior record, released during an extremely interior year, and it's been on high rotation for me since its release in June.  

Why the Melvillian title? Here's what he says in his artist statement:  

“The hope for security, for accountable humanitarian leadership, for affordable housing and fair income, for understanding, things which we learned were natural pieces of a progressive society, now seem like humanity’s great white whale in a darker, regressive world, once appearing on the horizon only to disappear again into the deep.
“It’s my hope that White Whale, for what it’s worth, will lend a small hand to the listeners’ emancipation from inward fear and sadness and feelings of unworthiness. And help you realize what it is you need to do in order to have that conversation, or make that move, and two steps forward in crushing that which seeks to crush you.”

Get I get an amen?

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

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


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


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


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



Day 5:

Caribou – Suddenly (Merge)

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

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

Bandcamp here.




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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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


The could’ve, should’ve beens:

Bon Enfant – s/t (Duprince)

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

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

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

Bandcamp here. 


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

Corridor - Junior (Sub Pop)

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

Bandcamp here. 



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




Veteran MIA:

The Dears - Lovers Rock (Ting Dun)

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

Bandcamp here. 

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

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

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

My personal Polaris longlist 2020 part 2

Day Two!

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

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

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

Part 2/4:

The Dears – Lovers Rock: This band has been making anxiety-ridden apocalyptic prog-rock for 20 years now, so the fact they’re releasing their best record in years right now is sheer coincidence. Older, wiser, and with their grand ambitions tempered with humility and grace, the Dears easily conjure the fireworks of their finest hours—“The Worst in Us” is vintage Dears, and would be a highlight on any earlier record—while balancing the bombast with breezier fare like “Play Dead” and “Is This What You Really Want,” both of which wouldn’t have been out of place on singer Murray Lightburn’s excellent 2019 solo album. Bandcamp link here.

Frazey Ford – U Kin B the Sun: Words will always fail to describe Frazey Ford’s voice, probably because she fails to enunciate most of her words in the first place. Such is the magic and mystery that this soulful singer brings to everything she does, whether it was the folk revivalism of the Be Good Tanyas 20 years ago or the soul music she immerses herself in here. This is not exactly retro R&B, but it is a solid live band with a Hammond organ (or imitation) hovering over the bass-heavy grooves and gospel-tinged backing vocals. She’s a devoted D’Angelo fan, and her last record used the same band Cat Power did on The Greatest; Ford brings her own hippie B.C. vibe to the genre. She’s not in this game to win; she can take or leave the music business, as she’s proved over the years while moving at her own pace. The music she makes is for healing, for uplift, for the spirit. Which is all well and good and inspiring, but the songs she brings to the table this time, and the players she gathered to perform it, that elevate this far beyond mere good intentions. It’s the balm. Bandcamp link here.

Fountain – Laughing Through Traffic: Holy shit, this came out of nowhere (look ’em up, and you’ll find next to no press at all, so shout out to CJLO’s Francella Fiallos for tipping the jury to this). This is a Beefheartian Montreal band with incredible chemistry despite sounding like they’re being pulled in at least three different directions at once. There are elements here of everyone from Television to Old Time Relijun to recent Polaris faves Fet.Nat, with a singer possessed of the necessary sardonicism to sell the sizzle (“On an art deco gecko all I drink is prosecco / that’s not healthy!”). One of many contenders this year that I wish I could see live, though this recording has raw energy to burn. Bandcamp link here.

Dana Gavanski – Yesterday is Gone: No wonder this odd little record is so fascinating: it was born in Vancouver, Montreal, the Laurentians, Banff, Toronto, and Serbia. Gavanski packs a lot of work, discipline and experience into her debut album, which fits into a lineage that spans Nico to Aldous Harding (and FWIW I’m not a fan of the latter). It’s unassuming at first, with subtle arrangements and Gavanski’s deadpan voice somewhat off-putting. But the intimacy and delicacy of the instrumentation ultimately draw you in; every tiny production decision here is very particular and deliberate, creating a world you want to inhabit on a lazy afternoon. Fans of Jennifer Castle should be paying attention. Bandcamp link here.

Golden Seals – Something Isn’t Happening: Dave Merritt lives outside Ottawa and puts out new music of an old-fashioned vein about every six years or so, which means this record had zero push behind it other than Merritt’s always entertaining online presence. He’s the kind of 50-year-old guy with Beatles deep in his blood and a whole lotta Nick Lowe and Aimee Mann on his shelf, and has likely had a Mojo subscription for the last 20 years. All that pop scholarship pays off here, which not only has Sexsmithian melodies and jazz chords, but the production here is much more vivid than one would ever expect from a home recording—even the track he recorded as a phone memo sparkles. (Local Ontario heroes Andy Magoffin and Philip Shaw Bova shared mixing duties; both do great work, as always.) There’s tightly wound nuggets of pop perfection on tracks like “Independence Day,” “Idiot Kid” and “The Opposite End of the Country,” but he gets pleasantly unspooled on the closer “The Takeaway.” This is old fart music par excellence. Don’t hold that against him. Bandcamp link here. Zunior link here.

Jacques Greene – Dawn Chorus: I’ll admit that full-length techno records are not my bag, but Greene’s 2017 release Feel Infinite was intriguing, as was his work on Cadence Weapon’s excellent 2018 self-titled album. That rapper turns up to return a favour here, joining electronic artist Julianna Barwick, film composer Brian Reitzell, hip-hop producer Clams Casino, and underrated Toronto singer Rochelle Jordan. The result is a late-night cinematic journey with character and depth, recalling early 90s rave (yes, Moby) records in the best possible ways. Does that musical era sound retro now? I have no idea. But this record sounds great today, illuminating empty urban landscapes with memories of what once was. Bandcamp link here.

Sarah Harmer – Are You Gone: The master is back. It’s been 10 years since we last heard from her, and she’ll tell you this is her best record yet. Strong words: it’s hard to top the untouchable You Were Here or I’m a Mountain. But this comeback is full of timeless gems, not the least of which is “Just Get Here” and “St. Peter’s Bay.” And dammit, “New Low” is exactly the political pop song we needed in 2020; I only wish she turned up the guitars on that one in order to match the lyrical bite. Ah well, maybe Billy Talent will cover it. Bandcamp link here.

Kevin Hearn – Calm and Cents: He’s one of this country’s MVPs (Barenaked Ladies, Lou Reed, Gord Downie, Rheostatics) but Hearn’s solo records are criminally underappreciated (see: 2014’s Days in Frames). This one is largely instrumental and absolutely lovely. Featuring longtime bassist Chris Gartner, drummer Gavin Brown and violinist Hugh Marsh, this is a meditative and melodic record about environmental decay, in which Hearn’s delicate piano is balanced with ambient electronics, Vocoders, and very subtle reggae influences underneath the sci-fi surface.

Ice Cream – Fed Up: This record sounds like 1999. The year of Peaches and Le Tigre. The sound of Prince’s classic album 1999. But in 2020, Ice Cream are two Toronto women who deliver dual-lead electric guitar over electro beats and catchy pop songs (“Peanut Butter,” “Banana Split”). There’s plenty of darker material here, as well (the title track, “Dove’s Cry”). These women are killer singers and players—which is why they’ve been drawn into the U.S. Girls universe (Carlyn Bezic was playing in the current lineup; both she and fellow Ice Creamer Amanda Crist play with Meg Remy in the band Darlene Shrugg.) If Fifth Column were around today, they’d sound a lot like Ice Cream. Bandcamp link here.

Junia T – Studio Monk: This is a winner on so many levels. For starters, Junia T steps to the forefront after being Jessie Reyez’s tour DJ for the last few years to craft this masterful collection of grooves built from the bottom up with live musicians and engineer Slakah the Beatchild. It took him two years, a time during which the MC decided to put down the mic to focus on the music, and invite an array of mostly Toronto talent to shine in his stead. So not only is this a solid, jazzy hip-hop and R&B record with a rich vintage sound (and by vintage I mean not only 70s soul, but there’s a particular late 90s vibe here), it also functions as a mixtape with all-stars like Reyez, Sean Leon, and River Tiber, but relatively unknown singers Storry and Faiza, as well as highly underrated Toronto vet Adam Bomb. Sometimes this much talent on one record means a lot of compromise and mush, but every single artist here brings their A-game. (Well, maybe not Nate Husser.) If at least one hip-hop record makes the shortlist this year, this is going to be it. 

Murray Lightburn and Hawksley Workman

Murray A. Lightburn – Hear Me Out (Dangerbird)

Hawksley Workman – Median Age Wasteland (Isadora)

On Murray Lightburn’s second solo outing, the singer best known for his 20 years fronting Montreal rock band the Dears teamed up with jazz players, a string section, and some old friends (including Ariel Engle of LaForce, whom I first saw open for the Dears more than 15 years ago with her first band, Moufette). Together they create a late-night, melancholy soul record that brings out the best in Lightburn’s voice and his songwriting.

If the Dears were always about the grand gesture and bombast, Lightburn’s solo work is decidedly low-key. Musically, that is. The light touch not only puts the depth and range of his voice into sharper focus, but also illustrates his lyrical eye, which can be wistful and wise (“Anew”) or weird and wry (“Fan Fiction (Ballad of a Genius)”). Producer Howard Bilerman (Basia Bulat, Arcade Fire) captures the mood with gentle grandeur; Scott Walker’s early records were likely an inspiration. Even if you were never a Dears fan—in fact, especially if you were never a Dears fan—Lightburn’s latest definitely deserves a hearing.

Lightburn is also behind the boards for the 14^th (!) studio album by Hawksley Workman. That’s an interesting choice for Workman, who has a side career producing others, including very early records by Tegan and Sara, Serena Ryder and Hey Rosetta. But for the prolific singer/songwriter’s first record in an unusually dry four years, he turned to Lightburn for some outside guidance.

It helps. A lot. Workman is insanely talented: as a singer, a drummer, a writer and a producer. But many of his records fell into the trap of “first-thought-best-thought,” which for him meant a lot of cringe-worthy lyrics and odd production decisions. In the press release for this record, he writes, candidly, “I’ve always had this constant hunger to innovate, re-evaluate what I do, and keep remaking it to confuse myself and maybe confuse my audience. This time, I’m just committing to writing focused and honest songs.”

And so Median Age Wasteland finds Workman playing it straight: folkie pop-rock that sounds identifiably Canadian (this is a compliment). Lead track “Birds in Train Stations” even owes a tiny melodic debt to Bruce Cockburn’s “All the Diamonds in the World.” When he inevitably turns up the testosterone on a track like “To Receive,” he proves that he’s one of the only singers in this country who could successfully begin a song with a line about “the retired pharmaceutical baron and his silver-haired, beautiful wife,” delivered with full gusto.

When the album falters, it’s when Workman is in an overly nostalgic mood. Songs like “Battlefords” and “1983” name-drop banana-seat bikes, Vic 20 computers and other childhood mementoes of someone in their forties. It’s quaint, cute and certainly paints a picture of a specific point in time, but it’s no substitute for storytelling or a vivid character portrait—things that Workman ably proves he can do elsewhere (“To Receive,” “Skinny Wolf”).

These aren’t comeback records per se, but they do mark key turning points in each man’s career. Wonder if they ever talked about that.

Stream Hawksley Workman: “Birds in Train Stations,” “To Receive,” “Stoners Never Dream”

Stream Murray Lightburn: “Hear Me Out,” “Changed My Ways,” “When They See Me”