April '11 reviews

These reviews ran in the K-W Record and Guelph Mercury this month.

Chancha Via Circuito – Rio Arriba (ZZK)

ZZK is a club and label in Buenos Aires that specializes in a digital take on South American cumbia music. Pedro Canale started out as the merch guy at the back of the club, but with his second album as Chancha Via Circuito, he finds himself at the forefront of the movement. That’s because there’s nothing gimmicky about what he does: he’s not simply playing cumbia rhythms that he’s spliced together on his laptop. His tempos get pitched around at will, making him sound more like an avant-garde turntablist at times, and yet he also brings in a breadth of traditional acoustic sounds that give his project much more warmth than his entirely digitally dependent peers. Guitars, cellos, percussion that sounds like pebbles, marimbas and pan flutes abound. Most of Rio Arriba is comprised of his original tracks, but his remixes for other artists contained here are just as revealing, especially his work with Miriam Garcia and Alicia Solans, who are obviously South American but sound Balkan—proof once again that cultural cross-pollination comes alive on the digital dance floor. (Apr 14)

Download: Jose Arride – “Quimey Neuquen Remix,” Miriam Garcia and Alicia Solans – “Pintar el Sol Remix,” “Puente”

Galaxie – Tigre et diesel (C4)

Anyone who finds Malajube too odd, who finds Karkwa too bland, or in general has yet to hear any francophone Quebecois music that kicks their ass, then this record by Galaxie should not be so far, far away.

If Gordie Johnson of Big Sugar wrote songs with Beck for Black Mountain to perform with Stereolab—in French, no less—then you’d have the third album by this Quebecois band (who unfortunately used to have “500” affixed to their name, causing much confusion with the influential cult band Galaxie 500). Fuzzy, somewhat blusey guitar riffs are given a lo-fi glam treatment with fluttering synthesizers in the background, all of which demands to be played at maximum volume, ideally with a bottle of Maudite in hand.

Galaxie love their ’70s sounds, but don’t get lost in retro reverence. Olivier Langevin is the rare guitarist who noodles effectively, and his band, which includes acclaimed solo artist Fred Fortin on bass and two members each on female vocals and keyboards (not all the equipment are 30 years old—there are some definite modern electro moments here) sound massive with merely the simplest arrangements. Unlike most franco rock bands, there’s nothing clunky about the cadence here; Langevin knows how to write a hook in the universal language. And on “Jusqu’a la fin,” he writes a perfect cliché acoustic ballad that hits all the right chords, readymade for campfires and high school slow dances everywhere.

Other Quebecois bands will get more hype in the anglo press, but this is the one that the rest of Canada—especially our rock radio stations—really needs to hear. (Apr 28)

Download: “Camouflar,” “Jusqu’a la fin,” “Diesel 2”

Jim Guthrie - Sword and Sworcery EP (Dark Flute)

If you’re an avid Twitter user, you may have noticed the hashtag #sworcery pop up in your feed, especially if you have particularly geeky gaming friends. It refers to a new video game by a Toronto design team that’s climbing the iPad app sales charts—almost overcoming the ubiquitous Angry Birds. Guelph’s Jim Guthrie has been an integral part of the game’s development since the beginning.

If this video game’s upward ascension continues—and it’s only been out for a couple of weeks—Sword and Sworcery may soon become the main calling card of Guthrie’s prolific career, which includes a stint with Royal City (who got a shout-out from Arcade Fire on the Junos), acclaimd solo albums, film soundtracks and ubiquitous ad jingles. And because video games—even nerdfests like this one—reach an infinitely larger audience than oddball Canadian indie records, it’s likely to be the most lucrative as well.

Like any video game music, Guthrie wrote this with loops in mind—how long the player stays in a certain mode determines how long they hear a particular passage of music. And yet for the album versions, he’s edited them into cinematic songs that have elements of ’70s horror films, ’80s Asian action movies, and fantasy narrative video games of the ’90s. It’s easily the most ambitious thing he’s attempted, and Guthrie is more than up to the challenge, producing an album that succeeds entirely independently of the game it was commissioned for.

Guthrie has a “normal” album due later this year, but anyone who’s been waiting for him to follow up 2003’s Juno-nominated Now More Than Ever shouldn’t hesitate to get their game on with Sword and Sworcery. (Apr 7)

Download: “Lone Star,” “The Ballad of the Space Babies,” “Bones McCoy”

Hauschka – Salon des Amateurs (Fat Cat)

The concept of “prepared piano”—which means inserting various objects between the strings of the piano, creating percussive sounds—is rarely employed outside avant-garde music circles. And that’s a realm where German pianist Hauschka, aka Volker Bertelmann, is certainly comfortable, as his sublime 2005 album simply called The Prepared Piano illustrated. Since then he’s made some records that are poppier than others, exploring orchestration and electronics along the way. Here, however, he returns to the prepared piano and applies it to pulsing rhythms—courtesy of guest musicians Joey Burns and John Convertino of Calexico and drummer Samuli Kosminem of Mum—that employ the repetition, build-up and release of techno music without ever using four-on-the-floor drums that would make the link all too explicit. Instead, Salon des Amateurs is a delicately orchestrated, peppy and percussive piano suite that serves as a perfect summation of this prolific composer’s oeuvre to date. Granted, there is not much variation to be found here, and after a while all the plinkety-plink sounds like a soundtrack for a clockmakers documentary or a Jean-Pierre Jeunet film—if you’re into that kind of thing. (Apr 28)

Download: “TwoAM,” “Girls,” “Subconscious”

Johnny – s/t (Merge)

Not many people know that Norman Blake, of ’90s Glaswegian rock band Teenage Fanclub, has been residing here in Waterloo for the past several years. That in part explains why that band has only put out two albums in the past 10 years, but it doesn’t explain how Blake continues his transatlantic connections with this new project, a collaboration with Welsh weirdo Euros Childs, of the offbeat psychedelic band Gorky’s Zygotic Minci.

Fans of both bands will not be surprised: Childs’s playful sense of pop meets Blake’s more muscular arrangements in the middle, and the result is rich with sunny harmonies, piano pop, country leanings, and odes to, um, bread. Everything is economical and under three minutes, except “Cave Dance,” which starts out as a goofy two-minute dance song before beginning eight minutes of droning space rock. No matter—the indulgence is perfectly excusable, given the pure pleasure that colours every other corner of this debut from two veterans who don’t feel like they have any time to mess around. (Apr 14)

Download: “You Was Me,” “Bread,” “I’ll Make Her My Best Friend”

k.d. lang and the Siss Boom Bang – Sing It Loud (Nonesuch)

The cover image is promising: k.d. lang, one of the greatest singers of the last half-century, beaming and holding a megaphone. The name of her backing band is also promising: for the first time since disbanding her country outfit the Reclines over 20 years ago, lang is collaborating with a real band, one whose moniker hints at swing and sass and verve. Perhaps lang will finally have an album of original material that matches her unearthly talent, yes?

No. Not since 1992’s Ingenue has lang managed to pen material that suggested she was doing so as anything more than an exercise. Sing It Loud is the closest she’s come to that transformative time, but it pales in comparison. The title track is the nadir; ironically, absolutely nothing about it makes you want to sing it loud. The lone cover here is of the Talking Heads’ song “Heaven”: “Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens,” a sentiment that sums up the approach to songwriting here.

Of course, lang is in fine voice—when is she not?—but the band, while capable of dreamy torch-song textures, don’t have much personality of their own; they certainly can’t breathe life into the material. Despite the cover art, there is very little bounce to lang’s step here. We know we’ll never again hear the irreverent cowpunk of her youth, but still, one longs to hear her belt out something other than a mid-tempo ballad.

On “Inglewood,” she sings: “Take me to a place where music sounds good again / the place where I could’ve been / the place where I should’ve been.” Hear, hear. (Apr 14)

Download: “I Confess,” “Asleep With No Dreams,” “Heaven”

Malajube – La Caverne (Dare to Care)

Despite their many strengths, Malajube always seemed to be hiding behind something. (For most anglophones, that would start with their French lyrics, but if that’s a stumbling block for you, then you can’t be helped anyway.) The band’s 2006 breakthrough Trompe l’oeil buried their pop hooks under layers of grunge; the 2009 follow-up Labyrinthes found them taking some fascinating prog-rock turns, as, of course, Quebecois bands are prone to do. La Caverne, on the other hand, aims for the gut on the opening track and first single “Synesthesie,” which captures all their strengths in under three minutes, stuffed full of melodic guitar rock over a disco beat. (It’s a formula they repeat on another Caverne cut, “Le Blizzard.”)

From there, Malajube continue to strip away the layers and focus on spacious, atmospheric rock that is equal parts Modest Mouse and Pink Floyd (“Mon Oeil” sounds suspiciously like Pink Floyd’s “Us and Them”). Their sense of arrangement, which they pushed to the limit of Labyrinthes, is much more focused on brevity and clarity throughout La Caverne—which, building on their previous successes, will undoubtedly continue their winning streak as the international torchbearers of Quebec’s criminally neglected francophone rock scene. (Apr 28)

Download: “Synesthesie,” “Sangsues,” “Le Blizzard”

Miracle Fortress – Was I The Wave? (Secret City)

This dreamy one-man band’s debut album, Five Roses, combined Beach Boys pop, ’80s new wave and ’90s psychedelic shoegaze music in a way that sounded entirely fresh, despite the obvious touchstones. This time out, Miracle Fortress main man Graham Van Pelt is stuck primarily in the ’80s, with this album’s best tracks sounding like a subdued take on New Order or even Men Without Hats. There’s less to distinguish Miracle Fortress from dozens of similar acts on the scene.

What’s more—or, more accurately, what’s less—is that of the 10 tracks here, four are short instrumentals. That leaves about three songs for Van Pelt to prove himself—which he does, thankfully. The once-hyped, now-forgotten Junior Boys, for example, would kill to write songs like “Spectre,” “Everything Works” and “Miscalculations.”

The Fortress has been breached, but there is still some treasure hidden inside. (Apr 28)

Download: “Spectre,” “Everything Works,” “Miscalculations”

Robbie Robertson – How to Become Clairvoyant (Fontana North)

The older he gets, the more apparent it is that Robbie Robertson is a musical sponge. He may have written the classic songs by The Band (though drummer Levon Helm has a thing or two to say about that), but without his Band-mates Robertson has often sounded lost—with the sole exception of his 1988 solo debut, which was more of a Daniel Lanois album with a lot of helpful guests.

Here, Robertson invites Trent Reznor, Robert Randolph, Tom Morello and other people who are more talented than he is these days, as well as Eric Clapton—and yet he still comes up short with a boring boomer record in which he sits around and reminisces about more creative times. Granted, it may be the first time he’s written so autobiographically—but who cares? I’d rather read his upcoming book.

It’s telling that one of the best tracks here, “Madame X,” sounds like telephone hold music with a melody cribbed from a Big Chill favourite, Smokey Robinson’s “Tracks of My Tears.” (Apr 7)

Download: “He Don’t Live Here No More,” “Madame X,” “Fear of Falling”

Paul Simon – So Beautiful or So What? (Concord)

Veteran performers are either ignored as irrelevant or lauded for being on the comeback trail; there doesn’t seem to be any in-between for an artist like Paul Simon. His last album, the excellent 2006 Surprise, produced by Brian Eno, was his most impressive collection of songs—as well as his most fascinating production job—since 1990’s Rhythm of the Saints, and yet it vanished without a trace. Now, everyone is tripping over themselves to praise this new album, which offers mixed results at best.

Simon is at his best when he’s crossing cultures, like the West African guitar atop tabla in “Dazzling Blue,” or the Malian kora that dances around the fine folkie fingerpicking of “Rewrite.” “Love is Eternal Sacred Light” is a blues stomp, which is crying out for someone less polite that Simon to do a rip-roarin’ version.

Perhaps not coincidentally, those tracks also inspire the better lyrics on this release: the tepid, straightforward acoustic ballad “Love & Hard Times,” on the other hand, inexplicably shifts from a tale about God and Jesus visiting Earth to a story of a long-time romance (did he get distracted halfway through writing it?). The title track tries to use his recipe for chicken gumbo as a metaphor for a “life’s what you make of it” lesson—needless to say, to no avail.

Simon does deserve credit for not standing still, however. Much of his discography bears little sonic resemblance to each other, even if lyrically he consistently plays the part of the slightly bumbling and bewildered philosophical fuddy-duddy astutely observing the modern world that’s leaving him behind. As on Surprise, there are themes of mortality and spirituality—particularly on "Afterlife," which envisions heaven as just another bureaucracy to endure. But mostly, unlike the music, his lyrics sound like a caricature of himself—which, as the self-deprecating title hints, he may well be aware. (Apr 21)

Download: “Dazzling Blue,” “Rewrite,” “Love is Eternal Sacred Light”

Timber Timbre – Creep On Creepin’ On (Arts and Crafts)

The album title, while funny and appropriate for the spooky sounds of Timber Timbre, is undeniably campy—and, unfortunately, so is some of this third album by Toronto’s Taylor Kirk, augmented here by a new band that includes quivering saxophones, droning violins and plinking piano.

The band’s 2009 self-titled sophomore record was a masterpiece of mood, of tiny terrors and tension; here, those eighth-note piano pulses and Kirk’s Elvis impersonation start to sound like crutches, even if the arrangements are otherwise inspired, the work of violinist Mika Posen in particular adding equally eerie and lovely textures.

Of the 10 songs here, three are incidental instrumentals, experimental pieces that offset the album’s more conventional creep and provide welcome left turns. The result is an album that puts Timber Timbre in the paradoxically purgatorial situation of both spinning its wheels and stretching its legs; its brevity suggests that Kirk himself is unsure which direction he wants to be pulled. (Apr 7)

Download: “Bad Ritual,” “Woman,” “Too Old To Die Young”

TuneYards – Whokill (4AD/Beggars)

In a release week where Paul Simon sounds old and tired and TV on the Radio are stuck in a rut, along comes a new TuneYards album that makes both of those artists sound like conservative fogeys.

TuneYards is Merrill Garber, a Vermont native who started her musical career in Montreal and now lives in Oakland, California. Previously a solo performer who made lo-fi bedroom recordings, she now collaborates with bassist Nate Brenner, invited other guests and takes advantage of the possibilities in a real studio. While she used to come across as a ukulele player that sounded like Joni Mitchell immersed in post-punk dance music and African rhythms, now she explores all those sides at once, creating a unique fusion that makes this one of the most fascinating albums this year.

Whokill is as dense as an early Public Enemy album, as joyous and melodic as a Vampire Weekend record, as natural as birdsong and as wonderfully weird as Mary Margaret O’Hara or Kate Bush all at once. Though those may be comparison points, her music doesn’t actually sound like any of these people at all, yet it effortlessly evokes their adventurous spirit.

She front-loads the album with the most in-your-face aspects of her performance: full-throated hollers, pounding drums, distorted sounds, syncopated rhythms. But there’s a lovely and tender side to her as well, and when she doesn’t feel like throwing everything at the wall at once—though she’s one of the few artists than can do so effectively without looking like a show-off—she can be delicate and haunting.

Whereas her contemporaries like Animal Collective and Dirty Projectors wear their weirdness with a sense of self-conscious pride, TuneYards puts on no airs at all: as oddball as she is, Garber is entirely intuitive, earthy and visceral. This music comes from her gut, and it’s sure to hit you in yours. (Apr 21)

Download: “My Country,” “Bizness,” “Doorstep”

TV on the Radio – Nine Types of Light (Universal)

You can take the band out of New York City, but you can’t… oh wait, maybe you can take the New York City out of the band. Since their inception a decade ago, TV on the Radio have captured the sound of post-9/11 New York, with all its beauty and paranoia, isolation and hopefulness all wrapped up in gospel-tinged vocals on top of one of the few rock bands whose use of electronics weren’t rooted in retro ’80s trappings, marking them as one of the most original bands of the new century.

Here, after their triumphant 2008 album Dear Science and pursuing side projects, they decamped to L.A., and appear to have been sapped of any and all inspiration. There’s no drastic change in sound, just 13 largely flat tracks that sound like they’re punching the clock—something one would never before accuse this band of doing. A song with the chorus, “My repetition, my repetition is this” may pay homage to Toronto’s Dream Warriors and their “My Definition” single, but it wears out its welcome rather quickly. “Caffeinated Consciousness” bears an odd and uncanny resemblance to INXS’s lugheaded “Guns in the Sky”—which, if you’re going to pick an INXS song to rip off, that should be last on your list.

Despite the material, vocalist Tunde Adebimpe remains compelling, pulling off some convincing Al Green turns here. The rhythm section—featuring bassist Gerard Smith, who passed away from lung cancer shortly after the album’s release—is inventive and unpredictable, never settling into a straightforward rock or funk groove, which works both for and against them. David Sitek is a guitar hero ala The Edge, less about showy technique than he is about texture. TV on the Radio are no less a great band than they were before, and so while the sound of them sleepwalking is less than commendable, it’s still better than most groups’ A-game. (Apr 21)

Download: “Killer Crane,” “Forgotten,” “Second Song”

Polaris 09: K'naan, Malajube

Day three of pre-Polaris pondering, following days one and two.

Weekend planning note for Torontonians: K'naan is playing the Phoenix tonight, Sept. 18; Chad Van Gaalen is at Church of the Redeemer tomorrow, Saturday Sept. 19.

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The nominees:

K’naan – Troubadour (Sony)

The album: K’naan’s Polaris-nominated debut, The Dusty Foot Philosopher, was promising, but mostly relied on the novelty of this Somali-Canadian’s life experience and perspective informing his take on North American hip-hop. On Troubadour, however, there is no novelty: this is hardcore funk, hard-hitting hip-hop, and mainstream pop that seamlessly draws from his African influences in ways that no one else has ever managed to pull off. The production is top-notch, and the first four tracks (“T.I.A.,” “ABCs,” “Dreamer,” “I Come Prepared”) are staggering classics.

K’naan doesn’t believe in mincing words; he takes his craft seriously, and there’s nary a lazy line on the entire record. There are certainly cheesy moments—“Waving Flag,” “Fatima”—but even there, K’naan’s distinctive personality shines through. Never mind the small world that is Canada: K’naan is a worldwide original.

The chances: Strong—as long as the jury dismisses the tracks featuring Metallica’s Kirk Hammett and Maroon 5’s Adam Levine, totally pointless cameos that make Troubadour’s two weakest tracks even worse. But such is the strength of everything else, that even those missteps are easy to overlook.

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Malajube – Labyrinthes (Dare to Care)

The album: It’s an apt title for a work that contorts Francopop into a unique vision. Malajube’s grungy side is gone, but the genre-jumping of the debut remains, solidified into a prog-rock powerhouse of a band. Best examples: the bombastic, cinematic “Cristobald” (complete with demonic choir); the bizzaro bossa nova of “Dragon de Glace”; the breezy pop of “Porte Disparu”; the grand opening of “Ursuline,” which bears a slight resemblance to Sunset Rubdown, their Mile End neighbours.

Labyrinthes is more likely to hold up than the acclaimed, Polaris-nominated Trompe l’Oeil, which already sounds dated. But this still sounds like a band that is just a few short steps short of making their truly definitive statement. (I know, I said the same thing about Hey Rosetta yesterday, but Malajube are far less predictable—and therefore more promising.)

The chances: Miniscule. I don’t think I read a single Anglo jury member enthuse about this album—in print or anywhere else, with the lone exception of Lorraine Carpenter’s nice cover story for Exclaim—so this has as much of a chance of winning as Gilles Duceppe does of becoming prime minister.

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The could’ve-beens:

Handsome Furs – Face Control (Sub Pop)

The album: So much to love. Dan Boeckner’s ragged rock’n’roll voice, always in control even at its most raw. Alexei Perry’s synths and drum machines alternating between primitive and pristine. Boeckner’s huge rock’n’roll riffs driving the electro beats. Continually catchy melodies that could just as easily work as folk songs, Springsteen rockers or disco anthems.

And, if that all wasn’t enough, the production is astounding: the guitars here balance rockabilly reverb with howling feedback, and the electronics are brilliantly arranged as the backbone of these rock songs, not just gimmicky retro signifiers.

“All we want, baby, is everything,” sings Boeckner—and that’s exactly what he and Perry deliver here. It’s hard to imagine 2009 sounding better than this.

Why it struck out: No idea. I swore this would be a shoo-in. So did many other observers.

Older interview here.

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Kardinal Offishall – Not 4 Sale (Universal)

The album: For the most part, I’ve all but given up on hip-hop, both mainstream and underground: lazy-ass lyrics and homogeneity being the main reasons. Which is why it’s so surprising to hear an artist like Kardinal pushing himself to do his best work this far into his career, and landing a Top 40 hit in the process (the ubiquitous 2008 summer single “Dangerous,” featuring Akon on the hook).

It was buoyed by a pop song (and featured several others, including Rihanna singing “The Tide is High” for the chorus of “Numba 1”), but Not 4 Sale is at its best when it merges dark electro grooves with Caribbean rhythms, a formula Kardinal pushes to the limit here. His lyrical dexterity is in full effect: he’s cocky, he’s clever, he’s coy, he’s conscious, and he’s “the product of a lot of questionable conduct” with countless one-liners that leap out from the consistently strong production.

There are only three duds here—one, no surprise, features T-Pain—but has there ever been a classic hip-hop album without a bit of fat?

Most importantly: the louder you play this album, the better it sounds.

Why it struck out: Having Akon help you land a huge hit single loses you cred with critics. I’d be shocked if most critics listened to the rest of this album—it didn’t even make the shortlist. Hip-hop heads didn’t seem to care for it, and despite its musical diversity, it didn’t seem to register with the reluctant in ways that K’naan or K-OS did. But no matter—now that he’s proved he has some commercial clout (on radio, at least, if not through sales), this should allow Kardinal to pursue whatever path he chooses. Why not a Fucked Up collab?

Tomorrow: Metric, Patrick Watson

2006: Nix on 06

After collapsing under the weight of blurb-itis at year's end, I humbly offer the last of my lists. Normally I'm a big fan of the process and the controversial results, but this year it felt like my only worth as a writer was being able to conjure 100-word witticisms distilling the essence of a work of art that moved me deeply. Nothing makes a writer feel more like little more than a consumer guide than year-end lists. I feel promptly scolded here.

That said, here's another 25 records that almost made the master list. These all had some stumbling block that preventing me from loving them outright. Some impressed me if only because they exceeded any expectations of them, unlike the plethora of albums released by some of my favourite artists this year that simply left me indifferent. Some of these are culled from my more mainstream gig as a columnist at a daily paper, and as a consequence are records whose worth I value more objectively than subjectively. Nearly all of the blurbs below are reconstituted from my previously published material in Eye Weekly, Exclaim and the K-W Record.

After this, that's it for lists, I swear.

Again, this is in alphabetical order, no ranking is implied.

Christina Aguilera – Back to Basics (Sony/BMG). Four years and an image makeover did wonders for Aguilera, who dropped this double disc of dynamite soul. Despite its occasional indulgences, even the most hardened hater had to cop to her exhilirating performance on “Ain’t No Other Man.” Qualifier: More than a bit of filler over the two discs, especially the execrable “Thank You,” comprised of little more than gushing fan messages.

Barmitzvah Brothers – A Century of Invention (Permafrost). Thrift store folk pop doesn’t get any better than this. This Guelph band’s much more mature third full length shows that they still have plenty of tricks in their treasure chest, while retaining the wide-eyed innocence that was always central to their charm. Qualifier: Because this band keeps improving, I think their next one will be their masterpiece.

Brightblack Morning Light – s/t (Matador). The sound of zero gravity. These Californians create opiated daydreams and ghostly whispers that made it sound all too easy to grow out your hair, move to the forest and live on solar power as a respite from such a volatile year. These hippies make drugged-out dirges so that you don’t have to take drugs: their guitars and Rhodes are drenched in reverb and tremolo, their hushed harmonies are spine-tingling, and the soul claps and shakers save the whole affair from sinking into the sand. Qualifier: They’re caught in the middle between not being freaky enough to get away with threadbare songs. It’s great as a mood piece, but something else has to happen before they reach greatness.

Solomon Burke – Nashville (Shout Factory). As good as his 2002 comeback album was, the blustery Burke sounds even more relaxed and natural surrounded by some of Nashville’s finest. Not that he needs starpower to sell the sizzle. His gospel blues vocals mixes seamlessly with more conventional country arrangements, making this Exhibit A in a lecture about what Americana music is all about. Nashville rings with joy and exuberance, and Ray Charles would be mighty proud. Qualifier: This is entirely subjective and a slightly ridiculous thing to say about such a great soul man, but to me Burke always sounds constipated—granted, less so here.

Danielson – Ships (Secretly Canadian) Whereas once it was hard to get past the chirpy vocals and seemingly self-conscious artiness, the Danielson aesthetic has now coalesced into a fascinating and majestic vision —not to mention wonderfully obtuse—that dares to blend country music, Broadway show tunes and progressive pop music. There was no better example than the single “Did I Step On Your Trumpet”: while easily the catchiest song Daniel Smith has ever penned, he’s still aware that “pleasing people is so predictable.” Qualifier: I fell in love with this record when it came out because it’s what I’d wanted Danielson to achieve for years now, but it hasn’t remained in high rotation.

Editors – The Back Room (Sony/BMG). Editors make it look easy, tapping their deepest darkest angst and translating it to stadium rock. Nobody broods like the Brits, and this band is one of the few who understand why U2 are huge Joy Division fans. Qualifier: Bad timing, as the much clunkier Interpol already has this market cornered.

Nelly Furtado – Loose (Geffen/Universal). Loose was liberating and libidinous for Furtado, who only hinted at this abandon in her pretty pop past. With the help of Timbaland—who also tried his best this year with the less talented Justin Timberlake (who only came up with half of a great album)—Furtado found her groove and maintained it for more than just a few great singles. Qualifier: The vastly overrated single “Promiscuous,” about Furtado playing hard to get, is the worst lexical mishap in pop since Alanis mistook bad luck and coincidence for irony.

The Gossip – Standing in the Way of Control (Kill Rock Stars). This title track is one of those songs that simply too exciting to simply stumble across while driving—it’s guaranteed to make your accelerator stick to the floor while your better judgement is buried in the glorious chorus. The Gossip’s hybrid of blues, punk, and gospel has always been tailor made for a rock’n’roll revival dance party, but new drummer Hannah Blilie gives this bassless trio the bottom end it’s always needed, allowing them to slip into disco and provide a Tina Turner transformation for singer Beth Ditto. Qualifier: None, really, other than the fact that I didn’t get around to buying this album until recently.

Ben Harper – Both Sides of the Gun (EMI). For all his inherent talent, Ben Harper has always been too reserved for his own good. No more. His country’s political situation has prompted him to make the finest album of his career, a double disc of fiery tirades and gentle reflection. Qualifier: I still don’t actually like Ben Harper.

Kevin Hearn & Thin Buckle – The Miracle Mile (Celery/Warner). This rainy day collection of planetarium pop marks a career best for the Toronto songwriter and Barenaked Ladies sideman, whose analog keyboard tapestries provide perfect colouring for his fragile voice and meditative mood, written in exile amidst the humid haze of Los Angeles. Qualifier: “Map of the Human Genome” drives me up the wall, and “In the Country” sounds like a Flaming Lips-lite Volvo ad. I prefer the ballads best.

Herbert – Scale (!K7). The man who made a name for himself by sampling the destruction of McDonald’s packaging has entered middle age. Sure, there were signs before: the expertly chilled jazzy house of Bodily Functions, the cut-up big band swagger of Goodbye Swingtime. But less than a year after his concept album about industrial food production, Herbert drops the conceptual conceits to encase his pointed societal critiques in a cushion of bumping, lush disco, complete with big strings and brass, balanced by beautiful blips and blurps that he and singer Dani Siciliano weave into seductive pillow talk. Activists—both aesthetical and political—need to unwind at the end of a long day, too. Qualifier: It doesn’t come close to the brilliance of 2001’s Bodily Functions, which I suspect most Herbert latecomers and Scale boosters haven’t heard, or at least spent quality time with.

Hylozoists – La Fin du Monde (Boompa). Any band that regularly employs two vibraphone players and a glockenspiel all at once runs the risk of sounding like a long shift at a wind chime retail outlet. Bandleader Paul Aucoin, a longtime MVP in Canada’s indie scene, knows better than that, and here his compositional skills match the brilliance of his arrangements. Alongside all the shimmering keyboards and mallet percussion, it’s pedal steel guitarist Dale Murray who is the secret weapon here. Qualifier: The three vocal tracks here fall flat compared to the instrumentals; the vocalists also sound dry and dusty next to their ornate surroundings.

Greg Keelor – Aphrodite Rose (Warner). Considering the lacklustre last couple of Blue Rodeo releases, was Keelor stockpiling his songs for this sadly unheralded solo record? Unlike his last couple of lullaby collections, this was a lo-fi, 60s-inspired incarnation of Keelor’s best Blue Rodeo moments, coupled with a more experimental side nurtured by his side project the Unintended. He also pens some welcome political material for the first time in 15 years; that may have fired up his muse more than anything. Qualifier: I can’t help but wonder if I love it simply because I haven’t liked anything else from the Blue Rodeo camp since 2000’s The Days in Between.

K-OS – Atlantis: Hymns for Disco (EMI). Along with Buck 65, who guests here, K-OS is the rare breed of Canadian artist whose eclectic tastes actually translate into great pop music while retaining their individuality. That he can do this on a major label and on MuchMusic is a minor miracle. Qualifier: Two songs here are horribly obvious attempts at rewriting his last two hits, “B-Boy Stance” and “Crabuckit,” and neither of them top the originals (actually, the former was the dog on Joyful Rebellion, too).

John Legend – Once Again (Sony/BMG). Finally, a neo-soul heartthrob who has the songs to match the suave voice, and doesn’t sound like a precocious youth while pulling it off. Marvin Gaye and Bill Withers can rest easy. Qualifier: As much as I like this, it’s too slick for my regular rotation.

Malajube – Trompe L’Oeil (Dare to Care). The francophone lyrics weren’t the only thing that set this Quebecois band apart from the pack. Their musical dexterity and genre jumping meant there was never a dull moment on this dark horse favourite. Qualifier: Even though they’re really good at it, the rock radio moments here ring less true than their weirder idiosyncracies.

More or Les – The Truth About Rap (Public Transit Recordings). Usually it’s a sign of supreme sour grapes if an MC spends the better part of an album lamenting the state of modern hip-hop. But over 19 solid tracks, Toronto busker More or Les backs up his bitching with solid beats and reminding us that: “It’s about fluency with rhyme and ingenuity.” By releasing an embarassment of riches over 19 tracks and 72 minutes, Les sounds like he’s hungry—literally, as we hear on “Brunch!” and “Eat Your Food!” And what better sign that he’s a class apart from today’s hip-hop pack than the bottle of red wine he’s rocking on the album cover? Qualifier: Way too long.

Joanna Newsom – Ys (Drag City). Easily the most misunderstood album of 2006, by both its champions and detractors, Ys deserves points for its lofty aims alone, even if almost half the album falls flat on its face from intrusive string arrangements and breathless Costello-itis lyricism. On the odd-numbered tracks, however, Newsom keeps us rapturous and removed from verse-chorus regularity, awash in wondrous imagery and no shortage of melodic invention. Qualifier: If this was a three-song EP—or even if the best three songs were sequenced at the beginning—then this wouldn’t be so maddening and frustrating. Despite all the fuss, Ys doesn’t come close to the masterpiece that was The Milk-Eyed Mender.

Republic of Safety – Vacation EP (Ta Da). “Let’s do something meaningful before we die,” pleads the opening track here, but even if this fleeting ten minutes were the extent of their public record, their legacy would be guaranteed. Without sounding like soulless gravediggers, there are trace elements of a Dead Kennedys/Go-Go’s double bill circa 1980, though Republic of Safety are far more preoccupied with the present. Singer Maggie MacDonald embodies everything a punk entertainer should be: smart, sexy, overarticulated and able to prick your political instincts with melody and charisma to burn and a kick-ass band behind her. Sure, some of the lyrics could be accused of sloganeering, but these are more rouse than rabble, inspirational calls to action that should be immediately stenciled on the walls of Torontopia and beyond. Qualifier: It’s a four-song single that’s over in eight minutes—which might be an ideal format for a band like this, but for obvious reasons doesn’t qualify as a full album.

Sloan – Never Hear the End of It (Sony/BMG). Sometimes it takes an ambitious project to save a band from irrelevance: just ask Green Day. This 30-track song cycle plays like a rock opera, even if the only thread is the band’s persistence on challenging themselves and topping their past discography. Qualifier: One can’t help but wonder how much better this would sound at half the length.

Regina Spektor – Begin to Hope (Sire/Warner). This precious pianist and songstress sets herself apart from a crowded field with pizzicato pop songs that always seem to be set on snowy New York City streets during the closing credits of a better-than-average quirky rom-com. Qualifier: The fact that I just used the phrase “better-than-average quirky rom-com.”

Bruce Springsteen – We Shall Overcome (Sony). This is the first Springsteen album in 20 years that hasn’t been a minor chore to listen to. Faint praise aside, every note here is infused with joy and spontaneity, these ancient songs brought to life by an ace band and a clearly inspired bandleader. Qualifier: Why the hell doesn’t he sound like he’s having this much fun with his own material? Here’s hoping he writes some originals for this new band, and alternate between them and the E-Streeters for his next few releases.

Swan Lake – Beast Moans (Jagjaguwar). The ghostly groans and beastly moans emanating from the depths of Swan Lake are likely to put off any fairweather fans of father bands Destroyer, Sunset Rubdown and Frog Eyes—wait a minute, do Frog Eyes have any fairweather fans? Here, Dan Bejar, Spencer Krug and Carey Mercer retreat into a murky fog where disintegrating keyboards drape themselves over acoustic guitars, and distant percussion colours the mirage of melodies that reward the patient. Traces of their day jobs are apparent, but the focus on texture here gives them a tabula rasa to start anew. Closing track "Shooting Rockets" may be more of a séance than a song, but otherwise they remain ever so slightly on this side of the spirit world. Qualifier: It’s not exactly in high rotation, if only because it’s not easy to slip into the sonic swamp this creates for itself.

Ali Farka Toure – Savane (Nonesuch). When he passed away earlier this year of bone cancer at the age of 67, “The King of the Desert Blues Singers” Ali Farka Toure was a world traveler who had retired to an agrarian life and became mayor of his Malian hometown. His last session, recorded live in a Bamako hotel room in 2005, produced two albums: his award-winning collaboration with fellow Mali musician Toumani Diabaté, In The Heart of the Moon, and now this, a thoroughly satisfying final statement that finds him in full strength. Saxophones and harmonicas conjure a mirage of classic Chicago blues behind his ngoni string band, with Toure’s delicately electrifying guitar work at the forefront. The rhythmic repetition and occasional reggae lilt create a narcotic effect, a perfect antidote to urban heat waves on the other side of the world, not to mention a valuable lesson to young freak-folkies attempting transcendence. Toure himself pens the extensive liner notes, detailed dedications to heroes and spiritual traditions that shaped the life he lived. An entrancing epitaph. Qualifier: As a sufferer of Seasonal Affective Disorder, I only seem to enjoy this when the weather is warm.

Scott Walker – The Drift (4AD). David Lynch fans searching for the audio equivalent of Mulholland Drive should turn off the lights and turn up this baffling, disorienting, mysterious and magical record that is as confounding as it is intriguing. This 63-year old artist has a storied career that keeps getting stranger, much like this album itself. But no context will help you by the time the donkeys start braying and Walker’s tremolo-ridden croon sings “I’m the only one left alive!” like Antony of the Johnsons singing a Diamanda Galas libretto at the end of his sanity. The Drift is a terrifying enigma that’s either a masterpiece or a hoax, but either way it demands your full attention. Qualifier: As brilliant as this is, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve listened to it all the way through.

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