March 2017 reviews

Highly recommended this month: Aimee Mann, Orchestra Baobab

Highly recommended this month, reviewed earlier: Old 97s, Spoon

Well worth your while: Duotang, Ibibio Sound Machine

As always, these reviews ran in the Waterloo Record.

Streaming is great for sampling purposes, but please find a way to directly support your favourite artists financially.

Louise Burns – Young Mopes (Light Organ)

Vancouver never tires of rainy-day new wave music, and they seem to have plenty of people like Louise Burns who are this good at it. Burns, 31, is a 20-year veteran of the music biz (yes, you read that right) whose confidence buoys her third album through detours into Sheryl Crow-esque California country and psychedelic pop (“Dig” has a direct reference to the Beatles’ “Tomorrow Never Knows”), all informed by a mid-’80s aesthetic that recalls the best of Echo and the Bunnymen and the Cure. She’s also rocking a bit of a Stevie Nicks vibrato these days, and the verses of “Pharoah” are not dissimilar to the Fleetwood Mac classic “Dreams.” Burns’s songs are strong enough that all those obvious comparisons fade away once her melodies—given extra muscle by bandmates Darcy Hancock and Ryan Peters, on loan from Ladyhawk) get stuck in your head. And judging by the album title, she’s got enough of a sense of humour about herself: she reclaimed it from a bad review in the Globe and Mail. (March 9)

Stream: “Who’s the Madman,” “Pharoah,” “Storms”

Duotang – New Occupation (Stomp)

After weathering the tough times for Canadian indie rock in the late ’90s, this Winnipeg duo called it quits—or a hiatus, at least—in 2002, just as this country’s scene started to get international attention. But with a comeback album as strong as this, there is no time for neuroses of the coulda-woulda-shoulda variety. Bassist Rod Slaughter and drummer Sean Allum romp through a dozen tracks that sound like a greatest hits package—culled, of course, from four or five unreleased albums that only existed in Slaughter’s head in the past 15 years. Opening track “Nostalgia is a Vice” is a self-conscious nod to any band on the comeback trail, but this doesn’t sound like a band trying desperately to relive the glories of the youth. This is a band that sounds better than they ever did, playing with every bit of the energy that always propelled their powerful performances. Duotang were one of the most underrated bands of that time period; they don’t deserve that fate this time around, either. (March 23)

Stream: “Nostalgia’s a Vice,” “Karma Needs to Come Around,” “New Occupation”

Her Harbour – Go Gently Into the Night (E-Tron)

Ottawa singer/songwriter Gabrielle Giguere sounds like the last person left in a harbour town, singing her songs on piano and autoharp to the vast ocean before her. Surely this siren would soon summon some kind of audience across the water; her hypnotic voice draws the listener in to revel in its intimacy. Her accompaniment is appropriate sparse, though she does employ subtle help from violinist Mika Posen (Forest City Lovers, Merganzer) and vibraphonist Olivier Fairfield (Last Ex, Timber Timbre). Veteran engineer Dave Draves (Wooden Stars, Jim Bryson) makes it sound like Giguere has set up in an empty Massey Hall, rich with natural reverb and haunted by history. (I’m sure it’s just an effects rack, but still.) (March 13)

Stream: “Below Breaths,” “In Nude in Fog and River,” “Death Mask”

Ibibio Sound Machine – Uyai (Merge)

If there was one song that could have got you through the doldrums of February 2017, it was “Give Me a Reason,” an Afro-electro dance track by Ibibio Sound Machine, which sounded like LCD Soundsystem in Lagos with synths borrowed from the “Ghostbusters” theme, brash horns, and a delirious percussion breakdown in the bridge.

A few months ago, Soundway Records put out a revelatory compilation of Nigerian “boogie” from the 1980s, called Doing It in Lagos, on which West African funk grooves of the ’70s adapted to electro-pop and disco. It’s a sound that leads directly to this joyous British octet, fronted by London-born, Nigerian-raised singer Emo Williams, who sings in her parents’ Ibibio tongue.

Uyai is their second record, and the first to have a domestic North American release (as the odd band out even on the eclectic Merge Records). The fiery summer songs are in abundance, but the band also dials down the ebullience and slows the tempo on occasion, displaying more depth and range.

There are no North American dates announced yet, but this is one tour you won’t want to miss. (March 2)

Stream: “Give Me a Reason,” “The Pot is on Fire,” “Lullaby”

King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard – Flying Microtonal Banana (ATO)

Well, it’s going to be hard to beat that album title. Even if your band name is King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard. Even if it is one of five albums you’re threatening to release this year. (This doesn’t appear to be an idle threat: they’ve released eight albums in the last four years.)

This Australian septet is a psychedelic powerhouse that rides metronomic Krautrock beats that would make the late Jaki Liebezeit of Can proud. Each album has some kind of conceptual conceit; this time out, they were outfitted with guitars capable of playing microtones not found on conventional Western instruments, but which are quite common in many types of Asian music (and entirely natural for a band from Oceania to pick up on, even if just for geographical reasons). The difference on most of the album will be subtle to most, other than guitar solos that sound a bit odd to North American ears. But occasionally the band will foreground the difference by modulating a riff by using a microtonal harmony—which, if you’re not aware what’s happening, sounds like the entire band is pitch-shifting out of key.

All of that may be of little interest to anyone but the Lizard Wizard themselves and ethnomusicologists. The greater appeal is hearing this fine-tuned engine operating at full force, especially drumming duo Eric Moore and Michael Cavanagh. And unlike last year’s relentless Nonagon Infinity, which introduced them to North America, Flying Microtonal Banana shows off some softer sides of the band—in terms of volume and textural colours, if not tempo. (March 2)

King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard invade the Danforth Music Hall in Toronto—a venue three times the size of the last one they played here—on April 5.

Stream: “Rattlesnake,” “Melting,” “Sleep Drifter”

Aimee Mann – Mental Illness (SuperEgo)

Aimee Mann knows exactly how the public perceives her: that of a smart but sullen songwriter specializing in the sorrows and disappointments of life, delivered in somewhat sluggish songs that barely break a sweat. Even diehard fans might find her eight previous solo studio albums to be interchangeable; Mann has a formula that makes her easy to pigeonhole.

So why not embrace it? Here, Mann has assembled another collection of misfits, malcontents and broken people—all worthy of an ennui-filled graphic novel—and named her new album Mental Illness. Which is kind of like Kanye West calling an album Ego. In her own press release, she says, “If [people] thought that my songs were very down-tempo, very depressing, very sad, and very acoustic, I thought I’d just give myself permission to write the saddest, slowest, most acoustic, if-they’re-all-waltzes-so-be-it record I could.”

It works. Just as 2014’s collaboration with punk rocker Ted Leo, The Both, was so refreshing because she was playing much louder, much faster and in a collaborative fashion, likewise it’s a revelation now to hear her strip away so many of the sonic layers that defined her approach to adult-pop perfection in the last 20 years. She mostly plays acoustic guitar and piano here; drummer Jay Bellerose is barely noticeable, as is the rest of her band. Subtle string sections colour around the edges, as do layers of California vocal harmonies. This is Aimee Mann the folk singer, although her typically complex chord progressions still place her closer to the Brill Building than, say, Billy Bragg.

None of that suggests that Mann is reinventing herself—in some cases, she even seems to be recycling, especially when “Rollercoasters” sounds a bit too similar to her 1999 Oscar-nominated hit “Save Me.” But this album is easily one of the best collections of her career: her razor-sharp wit and powers of observation in full focus, her unadorned voice sounding crystal clear and lovelier than ever. (March 30)

Stream: “Goose Snow Cone,” “Patient Zero,” “Good For Me”

Orchestra Baobab – Tribute To Ndiouga Dieng (World Circuit/Nonesuch)

Of all the African artists of the 1970s who had career resurrections in the last 15 years, Senegal’s Orchestra Baobab has been one of the most magical. Formed in 1970 as the house band at an upscale club in Dakar—playing five hours a night, five nights a week—they combined local traditions with modern Cuban styles (those styles themselves descendant from Africa, of course). As new styles became more popular, Baobab became less relevant and broke up in 1987. In 2001, Buena Vista Social club producer Nick Gold reissued the 1982 Baobab album Pirate’s Gold to great acclaim; the band then reformed and recorded two new studio albums in the next 10 years, one—the excellent 2002 Specialist in All Styles—produced by Senegalese superstar Youssou N’Dour.

Though Baobab’s reunion hasn’t sparked many new recordings, they continue to tour. Last year, they lost one of their long-time vocalists, 69-year-old Ndiouga Dieng, to a long illness. Though the lineup has fluctuated over the years, original vocalist Balla Sidibe is still at the helm, and original saxophonist Issa Cissokho still takes most of the leads. They’re joined here by young kora player Abdouleye Cissoko, who sparkles throughout.

There are few sweeter sounds in the world than the Afro-Cuban hybrid, and Orchestra Baobab are the undisputed masters. It’s sad that it takes a tragic occasion to bring them back to the studio, but we are all richer for it. (March 30)

Stream: “Natalia,” “Woulinewa,” “Douga”

Preoccupations – s/t (Flemish Eye)

The band formerly known as Viet Cong—the name was changed after protests following their appearance on the 2015 Polaris Music Prize shortlist—needed to reinvent themselves. The name change may be cosmetic, but the rebirth—and no doubt the maturity of the hard-touring band in general—has paid musical dividend as well.

Whereas the self-titled Viet Cong album was morose and, more important, mind-numbingly dull, Preoccupations take their goth-influenced, ’80s post-punk brooding and scrape away the unnecessary walls of noise. It’s still noisy—but now it’s carefully sculpted rather than merely drowning in sound. Hell, there are even pretty moments (“Sense”). With producer Graham Walsh (Holy F--k, Etiquette) again at the helm, Preoccupations focus more on groove, all rumbling bass and Joy Division-esque drums, while the guitars alternate between textural washes, brittle shards of sound and twangy leads. Singer/bassist Matt Flegel’s baritone is suitably menacing while he sings at-times laughable lines of misanthropy: “all of consciousness is completely intolerable!”

Too bad the T2: Trainspotting soundtrack producers didn’t catch wind of this record before padding out their track list with acts from 35 years ago. (March 9)

Stream: “Anxiety,” “Memory,” “Stimulation”

T2: Trainspotting OST – Various Artists (Universal)

In 2017, rare is the film soundtrack by various artists (as opposed to original music, like Frozen) that makes any kind of impact. But in 1996, the Trainspotting soundtrack was bigger than the film itself. Almost a year and a half after it came out, it spawned its own sequel.

Now Danny Boyle and company have delivered a long-awaited sequel to the film. Some familiar names are back: Underworld and Iggy Pop—the latter in a completely unnecessary remix of “Lust for Life” by… the Prodigy? Surely this ’90s revival has gone too far. Counting Iggy, six of the 15 tracks here go back even further: The Clash, Blondie, Queen, Run-DMC, Frankie Goes to Hollywood—natural choices considering the demographic of the film’s characters, but hardly inspiring as any kind of modern benchmark. Thankfully, with the exception of Frankie and Iggy, the compilers went with less obvious choices for all other geezer acts.

The sound of the new falls primarily to Young Fathers, the Mercury Prize-winning hip-hop trio from Edinburgh. It’s an inspired choice, and proof that the project isn’t entirely a nostalgia trip; the other new acts—Wolf Alice, the Rubberbandits, Fat White Family, High Contrast (who has the best line here: “Last night I dreamed I went to Woodstock but I only saw Sha-Na-Na”)—do the job of simultaneously sounding contemporary and classic. (March 9)

Stream: “Shotgun Mouthwash” by High Contrast, “Silk” by Wolf Alice, “Get Up” by Young Fathers

Pre-Polaris, day five: Buffy Sainte-Marie, Viet Cong

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

Every day this week I’ve been looking at two of the shortlisted albums, assessing their chances, and celebrating two albums that didn’t make the short list—or, in some cases, even the long list.

Day one is here; day two is here; day three is here; day four is here.

Buffy Sainte-Marie – Power in the Blood (True North)

The album:

This is the one. There are many peripheral reasons to want this award to go to Buffy Sainte-Marie. She’s a 74-year-old legend who’s often left out of the canon comprised of her peers: Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Leonard Cohen et al. She’s made a vital, political album in the era of #IdleNoMore and daily reminders of the urgency of Aboriginal issues. She gives great interview. Her live show is amazing. Tanya Tagaq announces this year’s winner—that would be a great moment to witness were it to be Buffy.

But we’re not talking about that, are we? We’re talking about the kickass album she put out in 2015, one of the best in her 50-year career. She’s been on the comeback trail lately, with an overdue and worthy collection of her “lost” mid-’70s albums, 2010’s The Pathfinder, and 2008’s Running For the Drum. But she’s never sounded as good as this, thanks to the sonic consistency of Michael Phillip Wojewoda’s mixing job (he’s also one of three producers here, including her long-time collaborator Chris Birkett.) She revisits and rewrites some earlier songs, writes some powerful new ones, and throws in a couple of covers. It's eclectic, it's soul-stirring and powerful music.

I could go on, but I said much of it in this May review.

I also had the immense pleasure of interviewing her for this article in Aux; the full, exuberant transcript is here.  

After OD’ing on this album after its release, I put it down until a few weeks ago—and by the time I hit the rousing closer, “Carry It On,” it literally made me weep with joy all over again. Buffy is the boss. Let’s do this.

The chances: Excellent.

Viet Cong – s/t (Flemish Eye)

The album:

Hoo-eee, here we go.

First: the music. I’d heard their debut EP and kind of liked it as a retro-’80s darkwave artifact. I heard the full-length and it bored me to tears: dour, dreary and punishing, though the drummer’s pretty good and I like some of the production. The closing track is called “Death.” Well before its 10 minutes are over, I’d prefer the real thing to hearing this song ever again.

But we need to talk about what everyone who has never heard their music is talking about: why on Earth is there a band of white Calgarians called Viet Cong?

Before we go any further, please read this excellent article by April Aliermo in Exclaim. It’s essential reading.


VALUABLE UPDATE: The name will change, the band announced on Sept. 20.

When I first heard this name, knowing that some of these guys used to have a band called Women, I thought it was a silly punk move, trying to be somewhat shocking by adopting the name of America’s enemy in the Vietnam War. Smug Canadians love to rail against the sins of American imperialism, therefore the enemy of America must be countercultural and cool, right? (See: Che Guevara.) There’s also a Montreal band called USA Out of Vietnam (no word on if these two have ever played a double bill).

It’s kind of like calling your band al-Qaeda. Or the Taliban. Except that outside of Hollywood caricatures, most white North Americans really have no idea who the Viet Cong were, what they did, or why all those Vietnamese Boat People of the late 1970s risked their lives to leave Vietnam in the first place. Suddenly during the Syrian refugee crisis, those Boat People are the source of great Canadian pride, a reason to pat ourselves on the back for our altruism 35 years ago.

Yes, white people in general—like all people, really—are ethnocentric and ahistorical, so no, I’m sure these rubes had no idea what they were walking into when they chose this name. Are they racist? Not sure, but they’re definitely ignorant. All racists are ignorant. But are all ignoramuses racist? Discuss.

Secondary question: regardless of your ethnicity, do you know why it would be a colossally bad idea to name your band Khmer Rouge? What about Tonton Macoute? Tutsi Cockroaches? The Lord’s Resistance Army? John Birch Society? Idi Amin? Any of those names ring any bells? Chances are most people—most young rock fans in particular—without an acute sense of history would have no idea why any of those potential band names might be offensive. That doesn’t excuse any musician who would choose those names, but you can understand why everyone around them might turn a blind eye.

The band’s defenders bring up Joy Division and Gang of Four—beloved and influential bands we all take for granted. Most rock fans actually have no idea what horrors those names refer to (if you don’t, please look it up). We were all fine with those bands, weren’t we? That doesn’t matter. Lots of old jokes aren’t funny anymore. Original London punks wore swastikas. There was a Toronto punk band called Battered Wives. There is still a football team called the Washington Redskins. None of that shit is cool. It’s juvenile bullshit. So is Marilyn Manson and his backing band named after serial killers. So is Dr. Dre’s misogyny. So are Eminem’s endless lyrical fantasies about killing the mother of his child. So is Tyler the Creator and LOLs about rape culture. Offence is everywhere.

So yes, as a white Canadian, I didn’t give the name much thought. I regret that. Like any limp-dick, adversity-averse Canadian man, I hoped the band would fade away into the margins from whence they came.

This album didn’t end up on the shortlist by accident. There was heated discussion among Polaris jurors. Both sides were, I believe, heard out. I tuned out, mostly because I didn’t like the album to begin with, and it didn’t seem like anyone’s mind was being changed. But to suggest, as the Exclaim! article does (and, ahem, a certain other article that made the rounds this week), that this issue was on no one’s mind would be inaccurate. The fact, then, that the album ended up on the shortlist does speak volumes about privilege—mine and fellow jurors. That worries me.

Part of the Polaris process is trying to ensure that we’re talking about the actual music: not whether or not someone “deserves” the award, not the marketing budget (or lack thereof) behind Artist X, not how much of a dick someone might be, not whether or not their lyrics are supposed to be autobiographical, not the album art. But just as I think it’s wrong to look the other way and say “it’s all good” when talking about Action Bronson or whoever, it’s ridiculous to suggest that—in 2015—we can ignore this band’s name and listen only to the music.

Having said all that: I’m kind of glad this is happening. The fact that they’re on the shortlist and playing at the gala has brought the issue to the forefront, whereas before they were a band you could easily ignore. Now we’re all forced to talk about this.

The chances: 

Before this week, I’d have said they had a mild shot. Now they’re totally toxic. [Update, Sept. 20: Despite their recent contrition, I still think this is the case.] Have fun at the gala, boys! I’m dying to eavesdrop on your conversation with Buffy Sainte-Marie.

Two of the should’ve, could’ve beens:

Siskiyou – Nervous (Constellation)

The album:

This would have slipped under my radar had my esteemed colleague Carla Gillis not championed it. She was very convincing. One listen and I was hooked.

My May review:

Sure sounds nervous. Anxious, even. Worried. And yet determined to plough through whatever weird situation we all find ourselves in, surrounded by spooky soundscapes on this, the third album by Vancouver’s Siskiyou. Fronted by former Great Lake Swimmers drummer Colin Huebert (and featuring that band’s string player, Erik Arnesen), Siskiyou maintains a tension throughout Nervous, regardless of tempo or arrangement, major key or minor. Opening track “Deserter” begins with a haunting children’s choir, leading into a bass line borrowed from The Cure’s “Fascination Street” before Huebert’s hushed vocals begin the verses. The tune gets more animated as it proceeds, with the choir singing off-beat shots, Colin Stetson’s baritone sax taking the solo, and ending with a ghostly coda with just Huebert and electric guitar. Nervous was written after Huebert, who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks, was also diagnosed with a severe inner-ear condition. He took a songwriting workshop residency in the Yukon and crafted this material during a silent retreat. When he came back to Vancouver he rehearsed the material at low volume—even though this is not a quiet record; that explains the tension. The result sounds like an artist throwing everything they have into one final project, just in case it’s their last. He employed Stetson, Owen Pallett, Destroyer trumpeter JP Carter, and renowned producer/engineer Leon Taheny (Owen Pallett, Austra, Bruce Peninsula) to flesh out his grand sonic vision.  It makes for a great creation story—but the music itself is even better.

Why it didn’t make the short list:

I’m ecstatic it got on the long list. It’s an unsettling listen at times, and unless “Heroes” is your favourite Bowie song and you enjoy the voice of a man who sounds like he’s on the verge of wigging right out and you like your spooky, art-damaged, backwoods folk-rock mixed in with some big rock guitars, this might not be your bag.

Whitehorse – Leave No Bridge Unburned (Six Shooter)

The album:

Wow, that would make a great Viet Cong album title, wouldn’t it?

My Februrary review:

Who’s burning bridges here? Not Luke Doucet and Melissa McClelland, whose second full-length as Whitehorse is as welcoming and accessible and brilliant a mainstream rock record could imaginably be in 2015. Start with the obvious: both are undeniably gifted musicians, handling all guitars, keyboards and percussion, as well as impeccable harmonies. On top of that, Doucet also holds a trump card: he is one of the best guitarists working anywhere in the world today. Anyone who’s seen their stripped-down live show, utilizing live looping and layers, knows all this.  On top of that, since ditching their solo careers and rebranding themselves they’ve also stepped up their songwriting game. This time out, producer Gus Van Go reportedly rejected their demos and told them to “go home and write ‘real’ songs,” Doucet told Exclaim!. Weird: this record is no better or worse than their near-flawless 2012 debut, The Fate of the World Depends on This Kiss. If it’s to Van Go’s credit that he made them live up to their own standards, so be it.  Whitehorse already had a perfect package, so there are no complaints if they returned with more of the same: McCartneyesque melodies, Duane Eddy guitars, Emmylou-and-Gram harmonies, rockabilly shuffles, Blue Rodeo rockers, Pixie-ish oddball twists (the track “Evangelina” owes a debt to “Where Is My Mind”) and—well, you know, lessons learned from the last 50 years of classic rock albums. Expect Whitehorse’s discography to join that legacy sooner than later. (Feb. 19)

Why it didn’t make the short list:

Again, a mystery, especially considering the last one made the short list. Where did the mainstream votes go this time out? All to Buffy? To the New Pornographers? To (gulp) Tobias Jesso? Were they split between Whitehorse and Bahamas and Frazey Ford and Lee Harvey Osmond and Patrick Watson and The Weather Station?