The following reviews appeared in the Kitchener-Waterloo Record and Guelph Mercury in April 2010.
Erykah Badu – New Amerykah Part Two: Return of the Ankh (Universal)
In 2008, Erykah Badu dropped one of the most mindbending, exciting slabs of soul music of the last decade with this album’s predecessor. But where New Amerykah Part One was subtitled 4th World War and filled with paranoid tension, Return of the Ankh sounds like a huge sigh of relief, with Badu returning to the seductive neo-soul sound that first launched her career in the late ’90s, yet no less psychedelic than her more recent forays.
Lead single "Window Seat" is the breeziest Badu has been in years, and easily the most accessible. But she’s still deliciously weird, such as when guest producer Madlib creates a hazy gauze on "Incense," offering her only a trippy bass line, simple drums, and a florid harp to decorate an already sparse melody. The rest of Ankh lies somewhere between those extremes, with some subtle but serious funk ensuring that Badu doesn’t drift away entirely. As with 4th World War, Ankh is a producer’s album, with some of the most outré names in neo-soul enlisted to provide tiny details that make all the difference in the world. (April 8)
Download (iTunes, puretracks.com, amazon.com): "Window Seat," "Incense," "Turn Me Away"
Bettie Serveert – Pharmacy of Love (Sound of Pop)
Dutch band Bettie Serveert put out three albums of loud, grungy and melodic albums in the mid-’90s that made a small dent on this continent’s indie rock scene—and then seemingly disappeared. They didn’t, of course: they continued to play for faithful fans and refine their sound to reflect their age (i.e. less grunge, more space), and, in the case of 2000’s Private Suit, released some of the most underrated pop of the past decade.
Pharmacy of Love—despite the terrible title—might be the album to put them back on the radar. Not only because it’s their finest collection of songs since Private Suit, but because they’ve decided to turn up their amps again and revisit the raucous elements of their ’90s sound, without eschewing the keyboards and delicacy they’ve acquired over time. As a result—with the possible exception of the barn-burning opening track, "Deny All"—it doesn’t sound like an obvious ploy to their ’90s fans who gave up on them a long time ago (or would only cheer older songs at live shows).
In other words, Pharmacy of Love is everything that Bettie Serveert has ever done well. Peter Visser is an astounding guitarist who alternates between squalls of feedback, crushing guitar chords and emotionally charged countermelodies and solos—all played with tasteful restraint. Carol Van Dijk’s slacker drawl has matured into a wise yet world-weary confidence, and her subtly complex and catchy melodies fall somewhere between Neil Young and Burt Bacharach. The rhythm section rarely falls back on the obvious, whether they’re driving a 6/8 ballad or a straight-up rock song.
“I hope you never change for me,” sings Van Dijk. And though her band has definitely evolved, they haven’t lost a bit of their original spark. (April 29)
Download (iTunes, amazon.com): "Deny All," "Mossie," "Souls Travel"
Bjork – Voltaic (Warner)
Six years ago, Bjork opened up her vaults and released live albums representing every major tour she’d done. Now we have a document of the 2007-2008 Volta tour—though it’s a “live” album only in the sense that it was recorded live, in a studio, as a rehearsal before her set at the U.K.’s Glastonbury Festival.
So there are no exhilarating crowd noises, no sign that the unflappable Bjork is letting loose at all. But worst of all—for a performer known to radically reinvent her recorded work for various live set-ups—these are incredibly faithful renderings, making this all but redundant; even the most acute listener would be hard pressed to hear any difference between the studio and “live” version of Volta’s Timbaland-produced single, Innocence.
Perhaps that’s a mixed blessing: Volta was Bjork’s most wildly uneven album, balancing some of her most joyous work in years with tedium that didn’t even qualify as interesting failures. Voltaic cherrypicks the album’s top five tracks and pads it out with some older staples—which still makes it a curiosity at best, and one that even diehard fans will probably skip. (April 15)
Download (iTunes, amazon.com): "All is Full of Love," "Wanderlust," "Declare Independence"
V V Brown – Travelling Like the Light (Universal)
V V Brown may dress like it’s the mid-’80s, but there’s no telling which era she’s plucked from. While the sound of her debut album is decidedly modern, there are direct links to an eclectic list of influences from the past 55 years of pop music. One minute she’s Buddy Holly, the next she’s Pat Benatar; some songs sound like ELO, some like Rihanna; many channel ’60s girl group exuberance. There’s very little original here—one song even cops the beginner-piano standard "Heart and Soul"—except for the way Brown mashes it all up with glee. She’s already scored hits writing for other people, and there are more than a few worthy chart-toppers here; don’t be surprised if she’s penning Broadway musicals sometime in the next 10 years. Combine that with her charisma as a performer and her fashion sense—and, compared to Amy Winehouse, her stability—and you have Britain’s next soul sensation. (April 8)
Download (iTunes, puretracks.com, amazon.com): "Game Over," "Leave," "Everybody"
David Byrne and Fatboy Slim – Here Lies Love (Nonesuch/Warner)
There is no précis paragraph that could make David Byrne’s new album sound like a good idea. And yet it’s easily his finest achievement since his days in the Talking Heads.
Here’s the gist: Here Lies Love is a two-CD, 22-song pop opera about former Filipino first lady Imelda Marcos, set primarily to a disco pulse, and in collaboration with big-beat electronica producer Fatboy Slim (Norman Cook), who arguably passed his prime 10 years ago. About the only thing to stop most people from fleeing in terror is the guest list of female vocalists, which range from almost forgotten ’80s icons (the B-52’s Kate Pierson, Cyndi Lauper, Natalie Merchant) to current artists (Santigold, Martha Wainwright, Sharon Jones) to complete unknowns to, uh, Steve Earle (whom, it should be said, performs admirably in such vocally superior company).
When writing a modern musical, most writers forget about the music, hoping the concept will sell itself. In Byrne’s case, every track is first and foremost a perfectly composed pop song, with a melody that maintains independence from the narrative theme. His seamless amalgam of classic Broadway elegance, funk, disco and bossa nova is telegraphed in the opening title track, where Florence Welch (of new act Florence + the Machine) reaches for the rafters. There are few stylistic variations—a couple of ’70s soft rock tracks slow the tempo slightly, and only four tracks would stop the dance floor entirely. Most importantly, there is no sense of repetition, no sign that Byrne and Cook treated any of this material lightly.
That extends to the lyrics, which take the tale of someone who many people know only as a shoe-obsessed dictator’s wife and transforms it into a rags-to-riches, princess-to-pariah story by using some of Imelda Marcos’s actual quotes. She was born in poverty, became a beauty queen, and charmed not one but two rising politicians: one became president, the other the opposition leader; the latter is eventually assassinated, and years later his widow ousts the Marcoses from power. She was raised by a nanny, Estrella Cumpas, not much older than herself, whom she abandons when she becomes successful. She jets around the world practising “handbag diplomacy,” enjoying the ear of world leaders while her ailing husband stayed home and tightened his clench on power. And, most curious to Byrne, Imelda kept a residence in Manhattan where she built a disco on the sixth floor; hence, Here Lies Love is the imaginary soundtrack to a very private party.
Here Lies Love succeeds on a level that all great musicals do: each song is tailored with specifics of the story, and yet functions universally as well. The one incongruity—"American Troglodyte," sung by Byrne, which uses pop culture references well outside the time frame of the story—works well enough on its own. Besides, unless you’re reading the detailed and incredibly fascinating liner notes while listening (recommended: springing for the deluxe edition), you’re unlikely to appreciate the narrative.
But it’s all there if you want it: the charming beauty who betrays her oldest friend; the philanthropist who steals from her countrymen; the jet-setting star who made the Philippines glamorous and then became the country’s biggest disgrace. Here Lies Love ends with Cyndi Lauper and Tori Amos duetting on "Why Don’t You Love Me?," sung by Cumpas to Marcos, and Marcos to her country. Byrne doesn’t ask you to love Marcos, but he ensures she’s more than just a punchline. (April 15)
Download (iTunes, amazon.com, puretracks.com): "Here Lies Love," "Eleven Days," "Dancing Together"
Caribou – Swim (Merge)
What once was small became big; and now what once was big is small again. Caribou’s Dan Snaith was once a bedroom producer making subtle, melodic and slightly jazzy electronic records; he soon evolved into thundering psychedelia that took 15 people to reproduce on stage (the Caribou Vibration Ensemble, which featured Four Tet and members of Junior Boys, Born Ruffians, and K-W’s Pick a Piper), including an avalanche of drummers. While never short of stunning, much of Caribou’s music in recent years has been a tad overwhelming.
On Swim, Snaith scales back to his more minimal beginnings, but with all the lessons learned from his excursions into ’60s pop still on full display. Opening track "Odessa" is driven by an aquatic and hypnotic bass line, which sits underneath one of Snaith’s finest melodies, while cowbells and what sounds like wild monkeys frolic around in the background. Throughout Swim, he’s judicious with his electronic trickery and psychedelic palette, setting up deep grooves and then brushing them lightly with vivid yet minimal colours, including his fragile Arthur Russell-like vocals.
With the exception of "Odessa," he doesn’t score any big pop songs like he did on 2008’s Polaris Prize-winning album Andorra ("Melody Day," "Andorra"), but that’s not the point. Swim aims for transcendence in repetition—either on the dance floor, or (as on the drumless track "Kaili") entirely in your headphones—but that doesn’t mean Snaith is treading water. (April 22)
Download (iTunes, amazon.com, puretracks.com): "Odessa," "Leave House," "Bowls"
Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings – I Learned the Hard Way (Daptone)
In retro soul circles, Sharon Jones is queen. While the likes of Erykah Badu were reaching back to soul music’s roots and retrofitting it for the digital era, Jones was going back to the source and staying there. On her fourth album, Jones is singing less like she has something to prove—the 52-year-old singer struggled in obscurity for decades before becoming a word-of-mouth sensation in the last five years. Here, she sinks her teeth in at slower tempos, and gives the songs more space to breathe. A string section and backing vocalists enhance the Dap-Kings’ impeccable arrangements, which once again supersede the actual songs—but whereas before the songwriting was the Dap-Kings’ Achilles heel, this time out it matters less because Jones owns every note. (April 8)
Download (iTunes, amazon.com): "I Learned the Hard Way," "She Ain’t a Child No More," "Window Shopping"
Jónsi – Go (XL)
Jónsi Birgisson has spent more than 10 years fronting the Icelandic band Sigur Rós while warbling incoherently—on purpose, to great effect, in an invented dialect. Now he’s launching his solo career by singing in English for the first time. Not that it makes a bit of difference: this eunuch’s enunciation isn’t much better. That’s never been the point, of course, but he sounds best here when he steers closest to Sigur Rós territory: sparse yet grandiose, cinematic opera that is as mysterious as it is magical. That band’s template can be understandably suffocating, yet its developments on recent albums into sunnier territory aren’t that much different than what Jónsi is doing here—so instead of being a liberating revelation, Go sounds unmistakably like a Sigur Rós album, with or without Jónsi’s instantly identifable vocals. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, and with the band on indefinite hiatus, Jónsi is shooting for bigger and brighter things. (April 15)
Download (iTunes, amazon.com, eMusic, puretracks.com): "Go Do," "Around Us," "Boy Lilikoi"
Andy Kim – Happen Again (Koch)
Barenaked Ladies – All in Good Time (EMI)
In 1995, the Barenaked Ladies appeared at the Molson Ampitheatre in Toronto, and invited a very special guest, a Canadian legend, to the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, Andy Kim!” It’s safe to say that most of the audience had no idea who Andy Kim was, even though he had written a long series of hits in the ’60s and ’70s, notably "Rock Me Gently" and the Archies’ "Sugar Sugar. "In 2004, the Ladies’ Ed Robertson co-wrote a new Andy Kim single, "I Forgot to Mention," which was a Top 10 hit in Canada, even though there was no accompanying album—until now, where the single leads off Kim’s comeback bid.
Andy Kim is well steeped in classic pop songwriting of the Brill Building variety, but he’s by no means stuck in the past. Happen Again doesn’t go for a retro vibe, but rather shoots for stadium status, rich with stirring, sweet anthems that would give Coldplay a run for their money. Kim surrounds himself with L.A. studio pros, and puts his Neil Diamond-ish voice to work asking all of life’s important questions, i.e. “Do you believe in love?”
Because this album has been so long in the making (it’s Kim’s first album in 20 years), every song could easily be a hit and there isn’t a single wasted moment—except perhaps "Without You," a dated synth-heavy ballad that, for all we know, may well back date to the ’80s itself. Otherwise, when Kim and his backup singers promise “We’re going to make it happen again,” you’d better believe them.
While it may look like Ed Robertson did Kim a favour by co-writing "I Forgot to Mention," one wishes that they teamed up again to co-write the Barenaked Ladies’ new album, their first without founding songwriter Steven Page. To say that there’s a lot of pressure on Robertson and the remaining Ladies is a gross understatement. There are some fine moments here where they appear to step up to the challenge—but then you realize that’s just because Robertson was always the underrated member of the songwriting duo; he’s always carried half of a Barenaked Ladies album. The question is whether he can carry an album on his own.
Opening track "You Run Away" is a promising start; it stands among the Ladies’ finest singles, even if it’s a thinly veiled dig at Page. The hot-jazz freestyle romp "Four Seconds" is the lone light moment, and succeeds even if it seems strained in the overall context. Keyboardist Kevin Hearn steps up with a couple of gems that don’t sound that different from his underrated solo work; Robertson would do well to cede him more space, even if Hearn’s low-key, fragile vocals are nowhere near a substitute for Page’s bluster.
Or they could just invite Andy Kim to join the band. (April 8)
For Andy Kim, download (iTunes): "I Forgot to Mention," "Love Is," "Happen Again"
For Barenaked Ladies, download (iTunes, puretracks.com, amazon.com): "You Run Away," "Another Heartbreak," "Four Seconds"
Natalie Merchant – Leave Your Sleep (Nonesuch/Warner)
The former 10,000 Maniacs vocalist and Lilith Fair-era solo artist hasn’t had a major label release in almost 10 years (she put out a low-profile indie release in 2003), which is likely why she’s bouncing back with an ambitious double album.
Perhaps part of Merchant’s absence was a lyrical writer’s block; the concept here was to set some of her favourite poets’ work to music, from Ogden Nash and e.e. cummings to contemporary writers and anonymous nursery rhymes. With the pressure off to write lyrics, Merchant threw herself into an ambitious musical journey, where she effortlessly touches on not just the rich history of American music—gospel, jazz, folk songs, Cajun country, Aboriginal music—but also the sounds of cultures that have been at the centre of the American immigrant experience: Chinese, Celtic, Yiddish, Jamaican, European chamber music and others.
It might as well be a soundtrack to one of Ken Burns’s sweeping PBS miniseries—not that there’s anything wrong with that. There are certainly times—mostly on the uptempo material—when Merchant sounds like a dispassionate librarian, but she’s largely successful as a chameleon bringing a consistency to all the material, while working with all-star collaborators such as Wynton Marsalis, Medeski Martin and Wood, and the Klezmatics. No matter what he genre she’s plundering, it’s obvious she’s invested all the energy she saved by not writing lyrics into a strong set of songs that’s almost an embarrassment of riches. The main fault with this album is that it’s too long, though it rarely dips in quality; Merchant could easily have strung this concept into a series of releases. (April 22)
Download (iTunes, amazon.com, puretracks.com): "It Makes a Change," "Topsyturvey World," "The King of China’s Daughter"
Plants and Animals – La La Land (Secret City)
The phrase “la-la land,” according to the Canadian Oxford Dictionary, refers to “a fanciful state or dream world”—a descriptor that could apply any number of boundary-busting, exploratory and mind-bending musical works. Unfortunately, this is not one of them.
Montreal’s Plants and Animals announced their arrival on the international stage with their 2008 album Parc Avenue, a curious blend of anthemic indie rock, jam-band looseness, prog twists, a bit of Neil Young’s Crazy Horse, and even some West African guitar stylings. Here, they still sound suitably restless—but without any kind of anchor. They’re all fine players, yet the songwriting is limp and they seem incapable of conjuring any chemistry—which is downright shocking considering the highs of Parc Avenue. By the time a Vocoder voice starts intoning the title of the barely-there song "Future From the ’80s," it’s safe to say that this once-promising band has completely run out of ideas. (April 22)
Download (zunior.com, iTunes, amazon.com): "Kon Tiki," "The Mama Papa," "Fake It"
Poirier – Running High (Ninja Tune)
Slowly but surely, all the great global dance music has gone digital: there is digital dub, digital cumbia, digital Brazilian baile funk, and digital dancehall. Ghislain Poirier is determined to bring Caribbean soca into the mix. It’s part of a natural evolution for the Montreal producer, whose distinctive brand of electro hip-hop has been voraciously absorbing all sorts of cross-cultural influences over the past five years. Because of the diversity of his work—heard on 2007’s underrated No Ground Under and 2005’s Breakupdown—Running High could stand to include some more eclecticism, even though he’s included a second disc of remixes to sweeten the package. Much of this material is better absorbed in small doses—like on the EPs that he quietly released leading up to Running High— but with both discs being sold at a bargain price, there’s no point complaining about an embarrassment of riches—and it’s a worthy introduction to an artist charting new courses for Canadian dance music and bringing it to the world. (April 29)
Download (iTunes, amazon.com, eMusic): "Immigrant Visa" (featuring MC Zulu), "Marathon," "Que Viva" (featuring Boogat)
The Runaways OST – Various Artists (Warner)
The legendary mid-’70s all-girl glam punk band were more famous for what they were—one of the first all-female rock bands, and the only good one before the Go-Go’s—than their recorded legacy. The soundtrack to their eponymous biopic sticks to the essential tracks, and rounds it out with pitch-perfect period pieces like the epochal David Bowie single "Rebel Rebel," the Sex Pistols’ "Pretty Vacant," Canadian classic "Roxy Roller," and tracks by Suzi Quatro, the Stooges and the MC5.
Most soundtracks to rock’n’roll biopics either feature the original tracks or the actors’ renditions; usually the latter are pale imitations of the former. Yet The Runaways does both. And it’s to the credit of stars Dakota Fanning and Kristen Stewart that they hold their own competing with the rock’n’roll swagger of Cherie Currie and Joan Jett (respectively) on the original tracks, especially the ultra-campy teens-gone-bad epic "Dead End Justice." Much like the movie itself, their tracks capture the time and place and teenage abandon perfectly.
This is the rock’n’roll—the sex and drugs and depressing downfall stay on the screen, of course. (April 1)
Download (iTunes, amazon.com): "Where the Boys Are," "Dead End Justice," "Cherry Bomb"
Elizabeth Shepherd – Heavy Falls the Night (Do Right)
This Toronto jazz singer and keyboardist comes into her own on her third album, and as producer and sole songwriter this time out, she deserves every inch of credit. (The one cover, of Anne Murray’s "Danny’s Song," is virtually unrecognizable, as Shepherd takes complete ownership of the song.) Shepherd is no longer content to write sketches of songs to showcase her piano skills, and with vocals as an afterthought: here, she sinks her teeth into the lyrics and melodies, still has time to let loose on the piano, and allows bassist Scott Kemp to drive most of the material. The vocals are always front and centre—and side to side, as Shepherd toys with layering her own voice to great effect. Her forays onto the dance floor flow much more naturally ("Seven Bucks"), even when she slips into tricky time signatures ("The Taking," "It’s Coming"), while her melancholy moods (the title track) have greater depth than every before. (April 29)
Download (Zunior.com, iTunes, eMusic, puretracks.com, amazon.com): "Numbers," "Seven Bucks," "High"
Souljazz Orchestra – Rising Sun (Strut)
Tony Allen – Secret Agent (World Circuit)
Ottawa’s Souljazz Orchestra made their name on Canadian stages as an Afrobeat band—an average one at that, not particularly in the league of other Afrobeat revivalists that have surfaced in the last 10 years—but here, on their third full-length, they live up to their name by delving in deeper to funk and jazz, with extended solos that show off what formidable players they’ve become—particularly keyboardist Pierre Chretien and tenor saxophonist Steve Patterson. While the African rhythms are still a large part of their sound, they’re not the only part, making Rising Sun a diverse album that doesn’t wear out its welcome by sticking to one groove.
Tony Allen is one of the greatest names in Afrobeat history: as Fela Kuti’s drummer, he is the anchor of many recordings that defined the genre; his own solo work over the last 30 years is often stellar as well. For his first major label release in North America, sadly, he offers up a merely average slice of African pop that, while admirable, doesn’t measure up to his past glories. The vocalists employed are part of the problem; they’re often distractions spouting cheesy platitudes instructing you to “celebrate your life,” while the tracks easily could work well enough on their own. Any fan of this genre should own a Tony Allen record—just not necessarily this one. (April 22)
Download Souljazz Orchestra: (iTunes, amazon.com): "Agbura," "Negus Nagast," "Serenity"
Download Tony Allen: (iTunes, amazon.com, puretracks.com): "Secret Agent," "Busybody," "Celebrate"
Rufus Wainwright – All Days Are Nights: Songs for Lulu (Universal)
For the last 12 years, Rufus Wainwright has made over-the-top, orchestral studio albums full of show-stopping numbers that he’s always been able to communicate as a solo performer. Now, on his first album of original material in three years, he finds himself alone at the piano, singing sombre songs and sonnets and an excerpt from his first opera (which gets its North American debut in Toronto in June).
And yet the powerful performer appears unable to pull it off: his melodies are uninspiring and often turgid, his piano playing sounds clumsy at times ("True Loves"), and—though he’s written explicitly and expertly about his fabled family in the past—the track "Martha" is embarrassing in its naked exposition that it sounds like one of Alanis Morissette’s lesser moments.
With one or two exceptions, it all sounds like a mere off day in an otherwise excellent discography, except that Wainwright is taking this album very seriously: apparently he’s playing the entire album in sequence at solo shows, insisting the audience not clap between songs as if they were movements in a larger piece. Maybe his hubris has finally caught up to him, but he probably won’t have to worry about that not clapping bit. (April 1)
Download (iTunes): "The Dream," "Give Me What I Want and Give It To Me Now!," "Sonnet 43"
The White Stripes – Under Great White Northern Lights (Warner)
Despite having only two people in their rock band, the White Stripes don’t do anything halfway. That’s why when they decided to tour Canada to celebrate their tenth anniversary as a band, they not only hit every major city, but also three dates in the territories, a bowling alley in the Prairies, a theatre on Cape Breton Island, and a boat in the Charlottetown harbour—all with a film crew following them around to make a documentary concert film. Now you can buy the CD; you can buy the DVD; you can buy both together. You can buy the vinyl. Or you can spend a small fortune on a box set that includes all of the above with a poster, a bonus seven-inch single, a bonus live disc of the entire Cape Breton show, and a 208-page hardcover book of photographs.
Why buy it all? Well, it could possibly be the last thing the band ever does; drummer Meg White has withdrawn from the stage due to anxiety issues, and Jack White has two other bands and numerous production duties to keep him busy.
More importantly, both the album and film capture the duo at their white-hot best. Huge rock riffs, lurching blues, churning organs, mandolin hoedowns, folkie singalongs, and a scorching cover of Dolly Parton’s "Jolene" all pay testament to the odd chemistry between the frantic, overachieving Jack and the perfect foil provided by the laid-back, understated power of Meg’s drumming. Though the studio recordings have always been raw, this live document is obviously even more so, and much of the joy is hearing how unhinged and spontaneous this seemingly tightly scripted band can be. It’s not a greatest hits, either; several key singles are missing, and "Fell in Love With a Girl" is subject to reinvention. Instead, it’s a worthy snapshot of a typical set list that dips into their discography on various whims.
The film doesn’t offer much as a documentary: though there are some illuminating interview sequences, there’s nothing terribly probing; much more is revealed in moments of quiet contemplation, especially the awkward yet loving relationship between the hyperactive Jack and the silent Meg (the filmmaker actually subtitles her inaudible speaking voice). Some of the “interacting with the locals” sequences are a bit staid; Jack’s apparent Nova Scotian ancestry is unexplored, even though it was supposed to be one of the reasons they chose Canada for their tenth anniversary trip.
Needless to say, the film comes alive on the stage, watching Jack peel off the squealing solo on "Icky Thump," leap from his guitar pedals to his strategically misplaced organ on the other side of the stage, or stand facing Meg and singing to her like they’re two kids practising in a basement and still in love with every note of musical connection—not an iconic, internationally successful band in front of thousands of rowdy, chanting Canucks. (April 1)
Download (iTunes, puretracks.com, amazon.com): "Fell In Love With a Girl," "Jolene," "Blue Orchid"
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
March '10 reviews
The following reviews ran in the Kitchener-Waterloo Record and Guelph Mercury in March.
Beach House – Teen Dream (Sub Pop)
Besnard Lakes – Are the Roaring Night (Outside)
jj – No. 3 (Jagjaguwar)
Dream states know no borders, and in another plane of consciousness, these three acts could well be neighbours, instead of solitary silos residing in Baltimore, Montreal and Gothenburg, Sweden, respectively. The Besnard Lakes try to aim for transcendence through swirling layers of guitars; jj eschew guitars almost entirely; Beach House use whatever combination gets them to their hazy destination the quickest.
“Quick” is not a word associated with anything Beach House has ever done. But for this, their first album for a larger indie label and consequently their first conscious bid for a larger audience, they’ve stepped out of the somnambulant shadows and into the sunlight. In doing so, they sound suspiciously like their new Sub Pop peers Fleet Foxes, Low and Band of Horses—and yet even though you’ve heard this sound plenty in recent years, Teen Dream captures it beautifully with a Brian Wilson touch that utilizes vocal harmony textures and elevates lo-fi innovation to illusions of high-tech gloss.
It also underscores how apt their band name is: every cymbal here sounds like a crashing wave, and there’s a woozy, almost seasick element in the way the guitars and organs bend in and out of tune on a track like “Norway.” It all adds up to a lovely spring thaw album.
The Besnard Lakes also make dreamy, languid music—though they like to do so with their amps cranked to punishing levels. Soaring harmonies, big guitar riffs and a lurching rhythm section are obviously reaching for a Big Statement—and occasionally they succeed, at least more than they have on earlier albums; Roaring Night is easily their catchiest, most accessible work to date, made with the help of their equally epic Montreal neighbours in Stars and the Dears.
And yet much of it sounds stuck in a similar groove, one where everyone in the band chugs along on plodding eighth-note rhythms that stubbornly refuse to build any tension: everything, no matter how lovely, just sits there, waiting for something to happen. When it breaks out of the lethargy—as on the appropriately titled “And This is What We Call Progress”—the Besnard Lakes finally begin to roar. There are delicate moments as well—like “Chicago Train” with its shades of Sigur Ros, but that’s when Jace Lacek’s falsetto stretches toward the ridiculous rather than the rapturous.
Swedish duo jj are as light as the Besnard Lakes are heavy; there are many moments here where pillowy synths and featherweight vocals veer too close to new age pop, or where the lead female vocalist sounds like she’s taken her own metaphor seriously: “Take me away like I’ve overdosed on heroin.”
The ESL lyrics are by far the biggest distraction on this otherwise perfectly pleasant new wave desert island fantasy; thankfully, that’s not true on the powerful, sombre opening track “My Life,” where the narrator is a survivor—not of her own struggles, but of the death that surrounds her. Maybe it’s drugs, maybe it’s a plague, maybe it’s a natural disaster—whatever it is, she’s still standing, alone, and bewildered by her fortune, if in fact surviving is good fortune at all. No wonder the rest of the album sounds like twee escapism; there’s a serious sadness at the core of every song here, no matter how sweet it may sound. (K-W Record, March 25)
For Beach House, download (iTunes, amazon.com): “Zebra,” “Norway,” “Lover of Mine”
For Besnard Lakes, download (iTunes, eMusic, amazon.com): “Like the Ocean Like the Innocent Pt. 2,” “And This is What We Call Progress,” “Albatross”
For jj, download (iTunes, eMusic): “My Life,” “Let Go,” “Into the Light”
Jully Black – The Black Book (Universal)
Canada’s ballsy, brash soul diva is back bursting with inspiration—or at least inspirational slogans, which are peppered throughout the CD booklet (i.e. “What you project is what you’ll reflect”). That confidence bursts through every track here, where Black once again proves her mettle: part Tina Turner, part Mary J. Blige, and ready to straddle the worlds of pop, rock and R&B by putting her own stamp on each. When she promises “I’ll Rock It,” she certainly does, with heavy ’80s electric guitar riffs that recall vintage Michael Jackson; on “Recalculate,” she takes aim at the Killers’ anthemic rock territory. There are times when her motivational-speaker tendencies get distracting (“The Time of Your Life,” “Glass Ceiling”), but perhaps we shouldn’t expect anything less from such a larger-than-life personality. (K-W Record, March 4)
Download (iTunes, puretracks.com, amazon.com): “Running,” “Share My World,” “She’s Out There”
Johnny Cash – American VI: Ain’t No Grave (Universal)
Johnny Cash has been dead for seven years now. What we thought was the final installment of his pivotal American Recordings series came out four years ago. Here, of course, we hear him teamed up once again—at this point, one would hesitate to say for the last time—with producer Rick Rubin and a small cast of sympathetic players. The first words we hear him sing are “there ain’t no grave can hold my body down.”
Even the biggest Johnny Cash fan has to ask themselves: dear God, isn’t this enough already? Haven’t we been put through the emotional ringer over the past 15 years listening to Cash sing songs of mortality with what has sounded like his final breaths, to only now be subjected to him haunting us from the grave?
Yes, of course. And you’ll be forgiven if you abstain from this Cash-in. Yet Ain’t No Grave is actually one of the strongest albums of the series, primarily because of the consistency of its vision. The other albums were too often buoyed by covers of either seemingly incongruous songwriters (Trent Reznor, Depeche Mode) or tired and hokey chestnuts from both the country and pop worlds (“Danny Boy,” “Bridge Over Trouble Water”); comparatively, this one plays it straight.
Ain’t No Grave was recorded in the few months before his own passing and after the death of his beloved wife, June Carter, who pulled him out of addiction and gave him a reason to live for the last 40 years of his life.
And so there’s no room for fooling around or gimmicky stunts: the song choice is impeccable, even if it is ridden with clichés about how “I know it’s over/ but life goes on/ and this whole world will keep on turning.” Though the man was dying and his voice is weary, there isn’t a hit of resignation anywhere in these 10 songs and half-hour of music.
Johnny Cash has been gone long enough that we don’t feel obligated to champion each final album as a summation of his legacy; and God knows (even if Rick Rubin doesn’t) that there was more than a few filler tracks on those final albums. That makes Ain’t No Grave all the more powerful: what could easily (and literally) have been squeezing the last breaths out of a dead man is instead a fitting epitaph that stands alone, independent of its backstory. Johnny Cash died more than a legend; he was still an artist until the end. (K-W Record, March 4)
Download (iTunes, amazon.com, puretracks.com): “Can’t Help But Wonder Where I’m Bound,” “Cool Water,” “I Don’t Hurt Anymore”
Jason Collett – Rat a Tat Tat (Arts and Crafts)
Zeus – Say Us (Arts and Crafts)
It didn’t take long for the students to overtake the master—if in fact any such role-playing ever existed in the relationship between veteran Toronto songwriter Jason Collett and his young backing band, Zeus. They recorded Collett’s fourth album together, the primary strength of which is the arrangements and performances. And on their debut album, Zeus boldly announce themselves as classic rockers of the highest order, seasoned songwriters and players who exude enthusiasm for their favourite artists of decades past, audaciously managing to scale many of the same heights themselves.
Neither act would ever be accused of doing anything original; both are decidedly comfort food. Yet oddly enough, it’s Collett who reaches for lyrical clichés and musical metaphors that are usually the crutch of wide-eyed rookies; Zeus’s lyrics are inconsequential, but never distracting—their music does all the talking. Such are the band’s strengths that they overshadow Collett on his own record; even though the songs are a step up from his somewhat disappointing 2008 album Here’s to Being Here, he’s still adopting an affected drawl that’s ultimately distracting from his other charms as a performer.
Say Us, on the other hand, oozes charm—as well as almost every classic rock signifier imaginable: harmonized guitar leads, reggae drops, honky-tonk pianos, full-throated four-part harmonies, over-driven organs, sugary sweet pop songs and raging rockers. Three songwriters help ensure there’s no monotony from track to track, or even within each track itself; it’s obvious that their performing and production work outside Zeus itself has made them acute listeners and keen observers of minute detail. Say Us sounds like every one of your favourite records made between 1967 and 1977, without ever sounding like any one in particular—the one exception being the closing guitar solo on “At the Risk of Repeating,” which is far too close to The Band’s “It Makes No Difference.”
Zeus will be performing with and without Jason Collett (along with peers Bahamas) on tour across North America this month. (K-W Record, March 11)
For Jason Collett, download (iTunes, eMusic, zunior.com, puretracks.com, amazon.com): “Lake Superior,” “Love is a Chain,” “Rave On Sad Songs”
For Zeus, download (iTunes, eMusic, zunior.com, puretracks.com, amazon.com): “How Does it Feel,” “The Renegade,” “I Know”
Four Tet – There is Love in You (Domino)
Pantha du Prince – Black Noise (Rough Trade)
There’s a track on the new Four Tet album called “Circling,” and unfortunately that’s all that Kieran Hebden seems to be doing on every track here: adrift and hesitant to lay anchor.
Admittedly, a degree of repetition is to be expected from an electronic music artist who is clearly moving toward techno forms, no matter how abstract. Except that Four Tet’s discography has always set itself apart from his peers who are content to let the beats do all the work, with any additional textures mere window dressing. Hebden, on the other hand, drew heavily on jazzy beats, found sounds, sampled folk instrumentation and delicate sonic layering that was at once experimental yet entrancing and welcoming. So while there are elements of Four Tet’s finest work here, Hebden mostly manages to sound like he’s stuck in a locked groove, his once eclectic pallet somewhat stifled.
That’s not the case for German electronic artist Pantha du Prince, aka Hendrick Weber, who definitely owes a debt to Four Tet for taking exotic acoustic sounds and rendering them unrecognizable while setting them to a chilled-out beat. Pantha du Prince comes from more of a German minimalist techno bent than Four Tet’s downtempo funk, but either way there is much breadth to be discovered on this, his third album.
Titled Black Noise, there’s nothing particularly dark nor noisy about it; Weber works with vivid colours conjured from electric guitars, subtle synth sounds, gamelans and bells that coalesce in an evocative, cinematic landscape—even on the tracks that are more obviously designed for a dance floor. The one time he stumbles is when Noah Lennox of Animal Collective shows up to sing on “Stick to My Side”; in the middle of an exotic sound world devoid of signposts, Lennox is incongruously conventional and utterly disposable—which can’t be said about any other aspect of Black Noise. (K-W Record, March 11)
For Four Tet, download (iTunes, eMusic, amazon.com): “Sing,” “Plastic People,” “She Just Likes to Fight”
For Pantha du Prince, download (iTunes, eMusic, amazon.com): “Bohemian Forest,” “Im Bann,” “Satellite Snyper”
Gigi – Maintenant (Tomlab/Sonic Unyon)
Fanshaw – Dark Eyes (Mint)
Abramson Singers – s/t (White Whale)
Gigi, Fanshaw and the Abramson Singers all make Sunday morning hangover music—which couldn’t be timelier, now that the world’s eyes have turned away from their shared hometown of Vancouver after two weeks of non-stop partying. Life goes on with small everyday pleasures—like each of these low-key debut albums, each of which rallies Vancouver artists together to sing in perfect harmony.
Gigi is not a band as much as it is a studio project, one steered by producer Colin Stewart (Black Mountain, Veda Hille) after he acquired some plate reverb units that inspired him to make ’60s-style Phil Spector-ish recordings, featuring group harmonies and large bands playing live in the studio. He enlisted songwriter Nick Krgovich (P:ano, No Kids) to pen the songs, and various guest singers to both take lead turns and join the choir.
As a genre experiment and period piece, the songs are successfully charming, and even at their saddest, there’s still sunshine thanks to the ebullience of the performances. The lead vocals tend toward the fey, but everyone else in the room gives it their all. The arrangements are rich, and there’s a clearly audible difference in hearing the band play live; the room ambience is extremely effective and the reverb plates are put to good use; Stewart ensured he got his money’s worth. Fans of vintage pop revivalists like Jens Lekman and Camera Obscura—or even Amy Winehouse—will be tickled pink; there are also perhaps-not-unintended parallels to the Langley Schools Music Project, the ’70s recording of a Vancouver-area children’s choir singing the pop songs of the day, which became a cult favourite several years back.
Vancouver seems to love choirs; Olivia Fetherstonhaugh is part of an indie collective called the Choir Practice, and records solo under the name Fanshaw, which is a more solitary, insular project. There are times when she sounds dark and gothic like her Vancouver neighbours Lightning Dust; at others she recalls PJ Harvey’s more spooky and sublime moments; sometimes she crafts drowsy, languorous country music; other tracks are dead ringers for U.K. newcomer Bat for Lashes. Fetherstonhaugh has a compelling voice that could work in just about any setting, but it’s her haunting songwriting that make Dark Eyes much more than just a promising debut.
Leah Abramson decided to start a female choir after developing tendonitis and being unable to play guitar, and though her eponymous band does feature sparse and almost ghostly instrumentation, the angelic four-to-eight-part harmonies are front and centre. This is definitely a 3-a.m. album, rich with shadows and suggestion. Its all-too-brief running time, at less than half an hour, is hardly enough to sustain us until daybreak; hopefully this visitation from the Abramson Singers is more than a fleeting dream. (K-W Record, March 4)
For Gigi, download (iTunes, eMusic, amazon.com): “Alone at the Pier,” “Won’t Someone Tell Me,” “Strolling Past the Old Graveyard”
For Fanshaw, download (iTunes): “Nobody,” “Strong Hips,” “Diana”
For Abramson Singers, download (zunior.com, iTunes, eMusic, amazon.com): “Take a Camera,” “Fool’s Gold,” “Trucker’s Prayer”
Bassekou Kouyate & Ngoni Ba – I Speak Fula (Next Ambiance/Sub Pop)
Music from Mali has been one of the biggest African cultural exports of late, led by the hotshot guitarists in Tinariwen and Amadou Bagayoko (of Amadou and Mariam); both owe a large debt to the late Ali Farka Toure, who just released the last album recorded before his death.
Bassekou Kouyate doesn’t play guitar; he plays a hand-held lute called the ngoni, which he attacks with the virtuosity of any great guitar god, not necessarily with the delicacy associated with the ngoni’s closest cousin, the kora. Unlike most ngoni players, Kouyate plays it standing up and even occasionally through effects like a wah-pedal; he’s also designed different models for members of his group, resulting in a new string band set-up that contributes to his original sound.
Kouyate is a relentless noodler, and yet paradoxically the music is never unnecessarily busy or frenetic—even though his tempos are quicker than most of the languorous Mali music we’ve heard. Percussion is minimal but effective; the group’s harmony vocals are lovely. Guests like Vieux Farka Toure (son of Ali) and kora master Toumani Diabate are on board mainly for marquee value; Kouyate is the undisputed star of this show. (K-W Record, March 18)
Download (iTunes, amazon.com): “Musow (For Our Women),” “Torin Torin,” “Ladon”
Mumford and Sons – Sigh No More (Universal)
Schomberg Fair – Gospel (Hi-Hat)
The U.K. is witnessing something it hasn’t seen in at least 40 years: a group of good-looking young men playing all-acoustic instruments at foot-stomping speed and singing with sunny four-part harmonies, all of which has mysteriously attracted many screaming young women (including on these shores, even before the debut album was released here). This, of course, has led Mumford and Songs to be called “the bluegrass Beatles” by the hyperbole-hungry British press.
Here in Canada, the sounds of Mumford and Sons’ debut album, Sigh No More, are far less impressive. We have Great Big Sea on our pop charts; we have Elliott Brood tearing up nightclub stages across the country. What’s the big deal? Mumford and Sons do, to their credit, write catchy songs—some of which could be very traditional, some of which aspire to rock epics without really having the weight behind them. And when they try to delve into darker material, as on “Dust Bowl Dance,” they simply sound lost.
Much more exciting is young Toronto band Schomberg Fair, who, it’s very safe to say, could kick the asses of Mumford and Sons. The opening track on Gospel, their second album, is a slow ominous build of banjos and tumbling percussion, a small breather before the next four tracks burst forth at breakneck speed.
If you thought the Sadies were shitkickers, Schomberg Fair delivers double the intensity, without getting cartoonish or losing sight of solid songs and performances that would be as powerful even at half their current tempos. Schomberg Fair do for electric Canadian folk music what the Pogues did to Celtic music in the ’80s: write booze-soaked songs plumbing spiritual angst and delivered soulfully with more energy than punk bands who use electric guitars as a cheap crutch.
They’re more than a one-trick pony, too. The album stops cold in the middle for a curiosity called “Motown Break,” which could be a Beastie Boys’ b-side. And from there, both lead vocalist Matt Bahen and the sub-baritone growl of bassist Nathan Sidon deliver emotional performances on slower but equally intense tracks like “Strange Kind of Grace” and “Satan Your Kingdom Must Come Down.”
Playing punk arrangements with folk instruments is old hat by now, a schtick that’s far too easy to succumb to cliché. And yet when Schomberg Fair preach their Gospel, you’ll be a believer in no time. (K-W Record, March 18)
For Mumford and Sons, download (iTunes, eMusic): “Little Lion Man,” “The Cave,” “Roll Away Your Stone”
For Schomberg Fair, download (iTunes, zunior.com): “Drunkard’s Prayer,” “Pretty Bird,” “Wayfaring Stranger”
Shearwater – The Golden Archipelago (Matador)
Dead Letter Chorus – The August Magnificent (Bumstead)
Last month, Peter Gabriel came crawling out of semi-retirement, only to underwhelm his fans with an all-covers album set to mostly solo piano accompaniment. But what if someone had kidnapped the legendary innovator from his comfortable British home, stranded him in the middle of Texas, and told him to write a concept album about threatened civilizations on remote island communities around the world? It still probably wouldn’t sound as glorious as The Golden Archipelago by Shearwater, a band that’s hitting its stride.
This Austin band has always created delicate epics worthy of early Gabriel or rainy-day favourites Talk Talk (or, at times, Elton John’s now-long-forgotten prog rock moments of the ’70s), with the confident, clear voice of Jonathan Meiburg leading a sympathetic backing band that would be as comfortable playing a Steve Reich composition as they would accompanying an adventurous singer/songwriter. Though they’ve always been a formidable live act, this is the first time they’ve fully gelled in the studio, reining in the bombast and spinning a beginning-to-end masterpiece. And to exemplify their economy, they do so in 11 songs and less than 40 minutes, making a journey to The Golden Archipelago much less daunting yet entirely immersive.
Shearwater play Lee’s Palace in Toronto with the equally excellent Wye Oak on April 1.
Dead Letter Chorus also aim for the epic, although with shared male-female lead vocals. If you took British art rock, dragged it through Chicago’s alt-country scene, and eventually wound up half a world away in Australia, you’d have Dead Letter Chorus. Opening track “The Peaceful Sleep of Death” sounds suspiciously like The Tragically Hip’s “Nautical Disaster,” which is surely unintentional. Sadly, the same can’t be said for the ’50s-style waltz “The Long Goodnight,” where the chorus is shamelessly stolen (uncredited) directly from Dolly Parton’s “I Will Always Love You”—the lyrics are “I will hold on to you.” Outside of their obvious influences, Dead Letter Chorus is a promising band in their own right. (K-W Record, March 25)
For Shearwater, download (iTunes, eMusic, amazon.com): “Black Eyes,” “Corridors,” “Landscape at Speed”
For Dead Letter Chorus, download (iTunes, eMusic): “The Peaceful Sleep of Death,” “Fight the Morning,” “11th Dream About Aeroplanes”
Beach House – Teen Dream (Sub Pop)
Besnard Lakes – Are the Roaring Night (Outside)
jj – No. 3 (Jagjaguwar)
Dream states know no borders, and in another plane of consciousness, these three acts could well be neighbours, instead of solitary silos residing in Baltimore, Montreal and Gothenburg, Sweden, respectively. The Besnard Lakes try to aim for transcendence through swirling layers of guitars; jj eschew guitars almost entirely; Beach House use whatever combination gets them to their hazy destination the quickest.
“Quick” is not a word associated with anything Beach House has ever done. But for this, their first album for a larger indie label and consequently their first conscious bid for a larger audience, they’ve stepped out of the somnambulant shadows and into the sunlight. In doing so, they sound suspiciously like their new Sub Pop peers Fleet Foxes, Low and Band of Horses—and yet even though you’ve heard this sound plenty in recent years, Teen Dream captures it beautifully with a Brian Wilson touch that utilizes vocal harmony textures and elevates lo-fi innovation to illusions of high-tech gloss.
It also underscores how apt their band name is: every cymbal here sounds like a crashing wave, and there’s a woozy, almost seasick element in the way the guitars and organs bend in and out of tune on a track like “Norway.” It all adds up to a lovely spring thaw album.
The Besnard Lakes also make dreamy, languid music—though they like to do so with their amps cranked to punishing levels. Soaring harmonies, big guitar riffs and a lurching rhythm section are obviously reaching for a Big Statement—and occasionally they succeed, at least more than they have on earlier albums; Roaring Night is easily their catchiest, most accessible work to date, made with the help of their equally epic Montreal neighbours in Stars and the Dears.
And yet much of it sounds stuck in a similar groove, one where everyone in the band chugs along on plodding eighth-note rhythms that stubbornly refuse to build any tension: everything, no matter how lovely, just sits there, waiting for something to happen. When it breaks out of the lethargy—as on the appropriately titled “And This is What We Call Progress”—the Besnard Lakes finally begin to roar. There are delicate moments as well—like “Chicago Train” with its shades of Sigur Ros, but that’s when Jace Lacek’s falsetto stretches toward the ridiculous rather than the rapturous.
Swedish duo jj are as light as the Besnard Lakes are heavy; there are many moments here where pillowy synths and featherweight vocals veer too close to new age pop, or where the lead female vocalist sounds like she’s taken her own metaphor seriously: “Take me away like I’ve overdosed on heroin.”
The ESL lyrics are by far the biggest distraction on this otherwise perfectly pleasant new wave desert island fantasy; thankfully, that’s not true on the powerful, sombre opening track “My Life,” where the narrator is a survivor—not of her own struggles, but of the death that surrounds her. Maybe it’s drugs, maybe it’s a plague, maybe it’s a natural disaster—whatever it is, she’s still standing, alone, and bewildered by her fortune, if in fact surviving is good fortune at all. No wonder the rest of the album sounds like twee escapism; there’s a serious sadness at the core of every song here, no matter how sweet it may sound. (K-W Record, March 25)
For Beach House, download (iTunes, amazon.com): “Zebra,” “Norway,” “Lover of Mine”
For Besnard Lakes, download (iTunes, eMusic, amazon.com): “Like the Ocean Like the Innocent Pt. 2,” “And This is What We Call Progress,” “Albatross”
For jj, download (iTunes, eMusic): “My Life,” “Let Go,” “Into the Light”
Jully Black – The Black Book (Universal)
Canada’s ballsy, brash soul diva is back bursting with inspiration—or at least inspirational slogans, which are peppered throughout the CD booklet (i.e. “What you project is what you’ll reflect”). That confidence bursts through every track here, where Black once again proves her mettle: part Tina Turner, part Mary J. Blige, and ready to straddle the worlds of pop, rock and R&B by putting her own stamp on each. When she promises “I’ll Rock It,” she certainly does, with heavy ’80s electric guitar riffs that recall vintage Michael Jackson; on “Recalculate,” she takes aim at the Killers’ anthemic rock territory. There are times when her motivational-speaker tendencies get distracting (“The Time of Your Life,” “Glass Ceiling”), but perhaps we shouldn’t expect anything less from such a larger-than-life personality. (K-W Record, March 4)
Download (iTunes, puretracks.com, amazon.com): “Running,” “Share My World,” “She’s Out There”
Johnny Cash – American VI: Ain’t No Grave (Universal)
Johnny Cash has been dead for seven years now. What we thought was the final installment of his pivotal American Recordings series came out four years ago. Here, of course, we hear him teamed up once again—at this point, one would hesitate to say for the last time—with producer Rick Rubin and a small cast of sympathetic players. The first words we hear him sing are “there ain’t no grave can hold my body down.”
Even the biggest Johnny Cash fan has to ask themselves: dear God, isn’t this enough already? Haven’t we been put through the emotional ringer over the past 15 years listening to Cash sing songs of mortality with what has sounded like his final breaths, to only now be subjected to him haunting us from the grave?
Yes, of course. And you’ll be forgiven if you abstain from this Cash-in. Yet Ain’t No Grave is actually one of the strongest albums of the series, primarily because of the consistency of its vision. The other albums were too often buoyed by covers of either seemingly incongruous songwriters (Trent Reznor, Depeche Mode) or tired and hokey chestnuts from both the country and pop worlds (“Danny Boy,” “Bridge Over Trouble Water”); comparatively, this one plays it straight.
Ain’t No Grave was recorded in the few months before his own passing and after the death of his beloved wife, June Carter, who pulled him out of addiction and gave him a reason to live for the last 40 years of his life.
And so there’s no room for fooling around or gimmicky stunts: the song choice is impeccable, even if it is ridden with clichés about how “I know it’s over/ but life goes on/ and this whole world will keep on turning.” Though the man was dying and his voice is weary, there isn’t a hit of resignation anywhere in these 10 songs and half-hour of music.
Johnny Cash has been gone long enough that we don’t feel obligated to champion each final album as a summation of his legacy; and God knows (even if Rick Rubin doesn’t) that there was more than a few filler tracks on those final albums. That makes Ain’t No Grave all the more powerful: what could easily (and literally) have been squeezing the last breaths out of a dead man is instead a fitting epitaph that stands alone, independent of its backstory. Johnny Cash died more than a legend; he was still an artist until the end. (K-W Record, March 4)
Download (iTunes, amazon.com, puretracks.com): “Can’t Help But Wonder Where I’m Bound,” “Cool Water,” “I Don’t Hurt Anymore”
Jason Collett – Rat a Tat Tat (Arts and Crafts)
Zeus – Say Us (Arts and Crafts)
It didn’t take long for the students to overtake the master—if in fact any such role-playing ever existed in the relationship between veteran Toronto songwriter Jason Collett and his young backing band, Zeus. They recorded Collett’s fourth album together, the primary strength of which is the arrangements and performances. And on their debut album, Zeus boldly announce themselves as classic rockers of the highest order, seasoned songwriters and players who exude enthusiasm for their favourite artists of decades past, audaciously managing to scale many of the same heights themselves.
Neither act would ever be accused of doing anything original; both are decidedly comfort food. Yet oddly enough, it’s Collett who reaches for lyrical clichés and musical metaphors that are usually the crutch of wide-eyed rookies; Zeus’s lyrics are inconsequential, but never distracting—their music does all the talking. Such are the band’s strengths that they overshadow Collett on his own record; even though the songs are a step up from his somewhat disappointing 2008 album Here’s to Being Here, he’s still adopting an affected drawl that’s ultimately distracting from his other charms as a performer.
Say Us, on the other hand, oozes charm—as well as almost every classic rock signifier imaginable: harmonized guitar leads, reggae drops, honky-tonk pianos, full-throated four-part harmonies, over-driven organs, sugary sweet pop songs and raging rockers. Three songwriters help ensure there’s no monotony from track to track, or even within each track itself; it’s obvious that their performing and production work outside Zeus itself has made them acute listeners and keen observers of minute detail. Say Us sounds like every one of your favourite records made between 1967 and 1977, without ever sounding like any one in particular—the one exception being the closing guitar solo on “At the Risk of Repeating,” which is far too close to The Band’s “It Makes No Difference.”
Zeus will be performing with and without Jason Collett (along with peers Bahamas) on tour across North America this month. (K-W Record, March 11)
For Jason Collett, download (iTunes, eMusic, zunior.com, puretracks.com, amazon.com): “Lake Superior,” “Love is a Chain,” “Rave On Sad Songs”
For Zeus, download (iTunes, eMusic, zunior.com, puretracks.com, amazon.com): “How Does it Feel,” “The Renegade,” “I Know”
Four Tet – There is Love in You (Domino)
Pantha du Prince – Black Noise (Rough Trade)
There’s a track on the new Four Tet album called “Circling,” and unfortunately that’s all that Kieran Hebden seems to be doing on every track here: adrift and hesitant to lay anchor.
Admittedly, a degree of repetition is to be expected from an electronic music artist who is clearly moving toward techno forms, no matter how abstract. Except that Four Tet’s discography has always set itself apart from his peers who are content to let the beats do all the work, with any additional textures mere window dressing. Hebden, on the other hand, drew heavily on jazzy beats, found sounds, sampled folk instrumentation and delicate sonic layering that was at once experimental yet entrancing and welcoming. So while there are elements of Four Tet’s finest work here, Hebden mostly manages to sound like he’s stuck in a locked groove, his once eclectic pallet somewhat stifled.
That’s not the case for German electronic artist Pantha du Prince, aka Hendrick Weber, who definitely owes a debt to Four Tet for taking exotic acoustic sounds and rendering them unrecognizable while setting them to a chilled-out beat. Pantha du Prince comes from more of a German minimalist techno bent than Four Tet’s downtempo funk, but either way there is much breadth to be discovered on this, his third album.
Titled Black Noise, there’s nothing particularly dark nor noisy about it; Weber works with vivid colours conjured from electric guitars, subtle synth sounds, gamelans and bells that coalesce in an evocative, cinematic landscape—even on the tracks that are more obviously designed for a dance floor. The one time he stumbles is when Noah Lennox of Animal Collective shows up to sing on “Stick to My Side”; in the middle of an exotic sound world devoid of signposts, Lennox is incongruously conventional and utterly disposable—which can’t be said about any other aspect of Black Noise. (K-W Record, March 11)
For Four Tet, download (iTunes, eMusic, amazon.com): “Sing,” “Plastic People,” “She Just Likes to Fight”
For Pantha du Prince, download (iTunes, eMusic, amazon.com): “Bohemian Forest,” “Im Bann,” “Satellite Snyper”
Gigi – Maintenant (Tomlab/Sonic Unyon)
Fanshaw – Dark Eyes (Mint)
Abramson Singers – s/t (White Whale)
Gigi, Fanshaw and the Abramson Singers all make Sunday morning hangover music—which couldn’t be timelier, now that the world’s eyes have turned away from their shared hometown of Vancouver after two weeks of non-stop partying. Life goes on with small everyday pleasures—like each of these low-key debut albums, each of which rallies Vancouver artists together to sing in perfect harmony.
Gigi is not a band as much as it is a studio project, one steered by producer Colin Stewart (Black Mountain, Veda Hille) after he acquired some plate reverb units that inspired him to make ’60s-style Phil Spector-ish recordings, featuring group harmonies and large bands playing live in the studio. He enlisted songwriter Nick Krgovich (P:ano, No Kids) to pen the songs, and various guest singers to both take lead turns and join the choir.
As a genre experiment and period piece, the songs are successfully charming, and even at their saddest, there’s still sunshine thanks to the ebullience of the performances. The lead vocals tend toward the fey, but everyone else in the room gives it their all. The arrangements are rich, and there’s a clearly audible difference in hearing the band play live; the room ambience is extremely effective and the reverb plates are put to good use; Stewart ensured he got his money’s worth. Fans of vintage pop revivalists like Jens Lekman and Camera Obscura—or even Amy Winehouse—will be tickled pink; there are also perhaps-not-unintended parallels to the Langley Schools Music Project, the ’70s recording of a Vancouver-area children’s choir singing the pop songs of the day, which became a cult favourite several years back.
Vancouver seems to love choirs; Olivia Fetherstonhaugh is part of an indie collective called the Choir Practice, and records solo under the name Fanshaw, which is a more solitary, insular project. There are times when she sounds dark and gothic like her Vancouver neighbours Lightning Dust; at others she recalls PJ Harvey’s more spooky and sublime moments; sometimes she crafts drowsy, languorous country music; other tracks are dead ringers for U.K. newcomer Bat for Lashes. Fetherstonhaugh has a compelling voice that could work in just about any setting, but it’s her haunting songwriting that make Dark Eyes much more than just a promising debut.
Leah Abramson decided to start a female choir after developing tendonitis and being unable to play guitar, and though her eponymous band does feature sparse and almost ghostly instrumentation, the angelic four-to-eight-part harmonies are front and centre. This is definitely a 3-a.m. album, rich with shadows and suggestion. Its all-too-brief running time, at less than half an hour, is hardly enough to sustain us until daybreak; hopefully this visitation from the Abramson Singers is more than a fleeting dream. (K-W Record, March 4)
For Gigi, download (iTunes, eMusic, amazon.com): “Alone at the Pier,” “Won’t Someone Tell Me,” “Strolling Past the Old Graveyard”
For Fanshaw, download (iTunes): “Nobody,” “Strong Hips,” “Diana”
For Abramson Singers, download (zunior.com, iTunes, eMusic, amazon.com): “Take a Camera,” “Fool’s Gold,” “Trucker’s Prayer”
Bassekou Kouyate & Ngoni Ba – I Speak Fula (Next Ambiance/Sub Pop)
Music from Mali has been one of the biggest African cultural exports of late, led by the hotshot guitarists in Tinariwen and Amadou Bagayoko (of Amadou and Mariam); both owe a large debt to the late Ali Farka Toure, who just released the last album recorded before his death.
Bassekou Kouyate doesn’t play guitar; he plays a hand-held lute called the ngoni, which he attacks with the virtuosity of any great guitar god, not necessarily with the delicacy associated with the ngoni’s closest cousin, the kora. Unlike most ngoni players, Kouyate plays it standing up and even occasionally through effects like a wah-pedal; he’s also designed different models for members of his group, resulting in a new string band set-up that contributes to his original sound.
Kouyate is a relentless noodler, and yet paradoxically the music is never unnecessarily busy or frenetic—even though his tempos are quicker than most of the languorous Mali music we’ve heard. Percussion is minimal but effective; the group’s harmony vocals are lovely. Guests like Vieux Farka Toure (son of Ali) and kora master Toumani Diabate are on board mainly for marquee value; Kouyate is the undisputed star of this show. (K-W Record, March 18)
Download (iTunes, amazon.com): “Musow (For Our Women),” “Torin Torin,” “Ladon”
Mumford and Sons – Sigh No More (Universal)
Schomberg Fair – Gospel (Hi-Hat)
The U.K. is witnessing something it hasn’t seen in at least 40 years: a group of good-looking young men playing all-acoustic instruments at foot-stomping speed and singing with sunny four-part harmonies, all of which has mysteriously attracted many screaming young women (including on these shores, even before the debut album was released here). This, of course, has led Mumford and Songs to be called “the bluegrass Beatles” by the hyperbole-hungry British press.
Here in Canada, the sounds of Mumford and Sons’ debut album, Sigh No More, are far less impressive. We have Great Big Sea on our pop charts; we have Elliott Brood tearing up nightclub stages across the country. What’s the big deal? Mumford and Sons do, to their credit, write catchy songs—some of which could be very traditional, some of which aspire to rock epics without really having the weight behind them. And when they try to delve into darker material, as on “Dust Bowl Dance,” they simply sound lost.
Much more exciting is young Toronto band Schomberg Fair, who, it’s very safe to say, could kick the asses of Mumford and Sons. The opening track on Gospel, their second album, is a slow ominous build of banjos and tumbling percussion, a small breather before the next four tracks burst forth at breakneck speed.
If you thought the Sadies were shitkickers, Schomberg Fair delivers double the intensity, without getting cartoonish or losing sight of solid songs and performances that would be as powerful even at half their current tempos. Schomberg Fair do for electric Canadian folk music what the Pogues did to Celtic music in the ’80s: write booze-soaked songs plumbing spiritual angst and delivered soulfully with more energy than punk bands who use electric guitars as a cheap crutch.
They’re more than a one-trick pony, too. The album stops cold in the middle for a curiosity called “Motown Break,” which could be a Beastie Boys’ b-side. And from there, both lead vocalist Matt Bahen and the sub-baritone growl of bassist Nathan Sidon deliver emotional performances on slower but equally intense tracks like “Strange Kind of Grace” and “Satan Your Kingdom Must Come Down.”
Playing punk arrangements with folk instruments is old hat by now, a schtick that’s far too easy to succumb to cliché. And yet when Schomberg Fair preach their Gospel, you’ll be a believer in no time. (K-W Record, March 18)
For Mumford and Sons, download (iTunes, eMusic): “Little Lion Man,” “The Cave,” “Roll Away Your Stone”
For Schomberg Fair, download (iTunes, zunior.com): “Drunkard’s Prayer,” “Pretty Bird,” “Wayfaring Stranger”
Shearwater – The Golden Archipelago (Matador)
Dead Letter Chorus – The August Magnificent (Bumstead)
Last month, Peter Gabriel came crawling out of semi-retirement, only to underwhelm his fans with an all-covers album set to mostly solo piano accompaniment. But what if someone had kidnapped the legendary innovator from his comfortable British home, stranded him in the middle of Texas, and told him to write a concept album about threatened civilizations on remote island communities around the world? It still probably wouldn’t sound as glorious as The Golden Archipelago by Shearwater, a band that’s hitting its stride.
This Austin band has always created delicate epics worthy of early Gabriel or rainy-day favourites Talk Talk (or, at times, Elton John’s now-long-forgotten prog rock moments of the ’70s), with the confident, clear voice of Jonathan Meiburg leading a sympathetic backing band that would be as comfortable playing a Steve Reich composition as they would accompanying an adventurous singer/songwriter. Though they’ve always been a formidable live act, this is the first time they’ve fully gelled in the studio, reining in the bombast and spinning a beginning-to-end masterpiece. And to exemplify their economy, they do so in 11 songs and less than 40 minutes, making a journey to The Golden Archipelago much less daunting yet entirely immersive.
Shearwater play Lee’s Palace in Toronto with the equally excellent Wye Oak on April 1.
Dead Letter Chorus also aim for the epic, although with shared male-female lead vocals. If you took British art rock, dragged it through Chicago’s alt-country scene, and eventually wound up half a world away in Australia, you’d have Dead Letter Chorus. Opening track “The Peaceful Sleep of Death” sounds suspiciously like The Tragically Hip’s “Nautical Disaster,” which is surely unintentional. Sadly, the same can’t be said for the ’50s-style waltz “The Long Goodnight,” where the chorus is shamelessly stolen (uncredited) directly from Dolly Parton’s “I Will Always Love You”—the lyrics are “I will hold on to you.” Outside of their obvious influences, Dead Letter Chorus is a promising band in their own right. (K-W Record, March 25)
For Shearwater, download (iTunes, eMusic, amazon.com): “Black Eyes,” “Corridors,” “Landscape at Speed”
For Dead Letter Chorus, download (iTunes, eMusic): “The Peaceful Sleep of Death,” “Fight the Morning,” “11th Dream About Aeroplanes”
Monday, March 08, 2010
Vinicio Capossela
Vinicio Capossela – The Story-Faced Man (Nonesuch/Warner) Outside of opera stars and the tackiest strains of disco imaginable, the world’s impression of Italian pop music has been negligible. Vinicio Capossela is just the man to change that.
He may claim to be heavily influenced by American outsiders like Jack Kerouac and Tom Waits (Waits associate Marc Ribot plays guitar on several tracks here), but there is no mistaking Capossela’s European roots: he sounds like he could easily be found playing the tarantella in a German bordello in the middle of a spaghetti Western.
Capossela has been recording for 20 years, has platinum records and has won the Italian equivalent of the Polaris or Mercury prizes several times. The Story-Faced Man, a rich 16-track compilation of his recent work, is his first proper North American album, and even then it’s a digital-only release—even an adventurous, globetrotting label like Nonesuch is tentative about marketing a weirdo Italian artist in North America. But though he has his seductively strange and theatrical moments, Capossela is ultimately out to charm you, and he has more than enough charisma and melodic gifts to do so.
He has collaborated with Balkan brass bands, Greek rebetiko groups, and the Arizonan eclecticists Calexico. His music ranges from tangos, torch songs, blues, Broadway, surrealist soundtracks, and straightforward tear-jerking ballads. With a novel and a screenplay also on his resumé—along with a reputation for theatrical stage shows—he’s a true renaissance man, and The Story-Faced Man is surely just scratching the surface of this enigmatic and fascinating character.
It’s time we all got to know him better, preferably over some red wine. You can do so this week, though you wouldn't know it from the lack of press surrounding these gigs:
Monday, March 8 at L'Astral in Montreal
Tuesday, March 9 at the Mod Club in Toronto
Wednesday, March 10 at Lakeshore Theatre in Chicago
Friday, March 12 at Bimbo's 365 in San Francisco
Saturday, March 13 at El Rey Theatre in L.A.
The Story-Faced Man is not available physically; it can be downloaded directly from Nonesuch or individual tracks from amazon.com. Earlier albums are available on iTunes.
Recommended tracks: "Maraja," "Il Ballo Di San Vito," "Con Una Rosa"
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
IS IT ENOUGH??!!
The story of Scott Moir and Tessa Virtue is the kind of inspirational Olympic tale that makes the whole sordid affair exciting in the first place: a come-from-behind victory, cute young athletes, a friendly rivalry, and a few fleeting moments of pure grace, artistry and athleticism. Watching their performance was moving and inspiring; no words were necessary, and thankfully, the CTV announcers agreed.
Until, that is, the final dramatic pose. Everyone watching knew the couple had nailed it, that no matter what the outcome, this was the performance of a lifetime. So, while we were still exhaling and revelling in the moment, what were the first words we heard being exclaimed by an overzealous announcer?
“IS IT ENOUGH?”
And there we have it, a summation of everything that is wrong not only with Own the Podium or the endless hand-wringing of the Canadian media’s Olympic coverage, but with Canadian identity itself.
"Is it enough?"
Those three simple words, that one simple question, summarizes centuries of cultural anxiety, a colonial legacy, a crippling modesty that believes nothing we ever do will ever be enough.
It doesn’t matter, it seems, if we’re confident in our own performance. It doesn’t matter, of course, that we achieve a personal best. It doesn’t matter if we come from behind and make it onto the podium in the first place. The only thing that matters is if we beat our rivals—conveniently, in the case of both ice dancing and hockey, our rivals are our perpetually overbearing continental neighbours, in whose shadow exists everything we produce as a country: culturally, economically, politically.
Granted, “Cautiously Approach the Podium” doesn’t have quite the same call-to-arms ring to it as our much-maligned and much-funded 2010 boosterism program. Of course we should strive to be the best in the world. But if, in the end, we end up a mere fifth, like Mellissa Hollingsworth, we shouldn’t have to convene a press conference and apologize to the nation, in fear of otherwise being hanged for treason.
Vancouver 2010—as a cultural event—is failing miserably in its attempt to show off Canada’s good side. We sound like a bunch of babies. Our neuroses and anxieties are on full display. We’re acting like the country will crumble at any moment unless every minute detail is an unqualified success. We’re politicizing every small gesture. And for a nation that prides itself on its modesty, we’re acting like either whining bullies or self-flagellating masochists. We default to one of two positions: either attempting to shut down any criticism, or basking in our failures.
"Is it enough?"
For Virtue and Moir, their performance was enough. But that’s not the point. Every artist in this country is plagued by that question almost every day. They’re told: yes, you’ve made a great work, but is it enough to be a hit? Is it enough to crack the States? Is it enough to be big beyond borders? Is it enough to satisfy our insatiable need to prove that we’re worthy of sitting at the big folks’ table? Because if it’s not, then we’ll settle for giving you a little pat on the head and we’ll forget about you tomorrow.
There is no pleasure in the present. If it doesn’t mean something to someone else, then it means nothing to us.
Is it enough? If you have to stoop to ask, then it never will be.
Until, that is, the final dramatic pose. Everyone watching knew the couple had nailed it, that no matter what the outcome, this was the performance of a lifetime. So, while we were still exhaling and revelling in the moment, what were the first words we heard being exclaimed by an overzealous announcer?
“IS IT ENOUGH?”
And there we have it, a summation of everything that is wrong not only with Own the Podium or the endless hand-wringing of the Canadian media’s Olympic coverage, but with Canadian identity itself.
"Is it enough?"
Those three simple words, that one simple question, summarizes centuries of cultural anxiety, a colonial legacy, a crippling modesty that believes nothing we ever do will ever be enough.
It doesn’t matter, it seems, if we’re confident in our own performance. It doesn’t matter, of course, that we achieve a personal best. It doesn’t matter if we come from behind and make it onto the podium in the first place. The only thing that matters is if we beat our rivals—conveniently, in the case of both ice dancing and hockey, our rivals are our perpetually overbearing continental neighbours, in whose shadow exists everything we produce as a country: culturally, economically, politically.
Granted, “Cautiously Approach the Podium” doesn’t have quite the same call-to-arms ring to it as our much-maligned and much-funded 2010 boosterism program. Of course we should strive to be the best in the world. But if, in the end, we end up a mere fifth, like Mellissa Hollingsworth, we shouldn’t have to convene a press conference and apologize to the nation, in fear of otherwise being hanged for treason.
Vancouver 2010—as a cultural event—is failing miserably in its attempt to show off Canada’s good side. We sound like a bunch of babies. Our neuroses and anxieties are on full display. We’re acting like the country will crumble at any moment unless every minute detail is an unqualified success. We’re politicizing every small gesture. And for a nation that prides itself on its modesty, we’re acting like either whining bullies or self-flagellating masochists. We default to one of two positions: either attempting to shut down any criticism, or basking in our failures.
"Is it enough?"
For Virtue and Moir, their performance was enough. But that’s not the point. Every artist in this country is plagued by that question almost every day. They’re told: yes, you’ve made a great work, but is it enough to be a hit? Is it enough to crack the States? Is it enough to be big beyond borders? Is it enough to satisfy our insatiable need to prove that we’re worthy of sitting at the big folks’ table? Because if it’s not, then we’ll settle for giving you a little pat on the head and we’ll forget about you tomorrow.
There is no pleasure in the present. If it doesn’t mean something to someone else, then it means nothing to us.
Is it enough? If you have to stoop to ask, then it never will be.
Friday, February 19, 2010
February '10 reviews
These reviews ran in the Kitchener-Waterloo Record and Guelph Mercury this month.
Briga – Diaspora (Festival)
Balkan music is not only powerful and passionate, but it can also be lightning quick—usually for brass players. Briga is Montreal’s Brigitte Dajczer (Les Gitans de Sarajevo, Geoff Berner), who tackles impossible tempos on her violin with the help of an equally awesome, jazzy band behind her. The production is a bit too pristine for those who like their worldly sounds raw, but the power of the playing is undeniable. And because she needs to take a breather, the second disc here finds her crooning in a French chanson style—it’s somewhat less successful than the instrumentals, but proves that she’s got the whole package. Expect her to be the talk of the folk festival circuit this summer. (Feb. 11)
Briga plays Hugh's Room in Toronto on Feb. 23, with more central Canadian dates in the ensuing weeks.
Download: “Couscousescu,” “Hora Martisorului,” “Qalbi”
Bruno Capinan – Gozo (independent)
There is no doubting Bruno Capinan’s Brazilian roots, even if he made this, his debut album, in Toronto with many of the city’s finest players. But while he sings in Portugese and there’s a very clear influence from bossa nova and tropicalia, Capinan is by no means a traditionalist. And nor is he the kind of artist to simply slap coffeehouse electronic beats onto his indigenous music.
Instead, Capinan charts his own course, with his smooth crooning leading the way through string arrangements, jazz leanings, electronic shadings, and occasional art-rock leanings. The track Astral features a dubby Massive Attack groove, a melancholy violin evoking European cabaret, and a sci-fi theremin thrown in for good measure. Capinan’s anything-goes approach is put to the ultimate test when he transforms Hank Williams’ “Your Cheating Heart” into a whispered rumba—a daring move that doesn’t sound the least bit unnatural in Capinan’s hands.
Apparently just after this album’s release, Capinan headed back to Brazil after seven years in Toronto; that’s our loss, because Gozo is sure to be one of the most inventive and rewarding albums of 2010 to be released in this rock’n’roll country. (Feb. 11)
Download: “Astral,” “Tantas Horas,” “Your Cheating Heart”
Chicago Underground Duo – Boca Negra (Thrill Jockey)
The “Chicago Underground” is much more than a duo; in the past 12 years there have been 11 releases involving the core duo of cornet player Rob Mazurek and percussionist Chad Taylor, along with various players from the infinitely fertile Chicago experimental scene. But it is as a duo that these two flourish and explore the seemingly endless limits of their creativity.
Boca Negra starts subtly, with Mazurek playing little more than glissando scales, and Taylor riding rolling waves on his toms. But by the second track, we’re immersed in what sounds like birdsong and gamelan, and on the hypnotic “Hermeto,” there is neither percussion nor trumpet. The dynamic duo are entirely devoid of any predictability; one minute they’re seemingly entirely esoteric and arrhythmical, the next they’re in a hard funk groove.
Mazurek’s cornet paints with colour more than melody, and much of this album really belongs to Taylor, who has been moonlighting in pop music recently with Iron and Wine and sounds excited to be let loose again here. (Feb. 25)
Download: “Spy on the Floor,” “Confliction,” “Left Hand of Darkness”
Matt Epp – Safe or Free (independent)
This overlooked gem from late 2009 is a lovely introduction to this Christian troubadour from Winnipeg. These songs were written on the road from Newfoundland to Toronto to Mexico to the West Coast, with a lot of time to stare out the window of a passing vehicle and ponder philosophy. Epp’s husky voice works in every setting here, whether it’s just him and his acoustic guitar, fronting a raucous rootsy rock’n’roll band, or harmonizing with guest vocalists Amelia Curran and Eliza Gilkyson (both underrated songwriters in their own right). His songs don’t need much help to shine, but there’s a stellar cast of players here that flesh things out in every direction, including the Waking Eyes’ Rusty Matyas on various duties, including “alienesque spacezoid ambience.” Being the restless soul he is, this promising album suggests Epp is ready to go anywhere and everywhere—both literally and artistically. (Feb. 4)
Download: “This Old House,” “Working Holiday,” “They Won’t Find the Bodies”
Fire in My Bones: Raw, Rare and Otherworldly African-American Gospel 1944-2007 (Tompkins Square)
There are those that think that the path to spiritual enlightenment can only be reached by competing with pop hits to reach the heathens. This album is not for those people.
The subtitle is perfect: this is as raw as gritty gospel gets, made by true believers in tiny congregations, by lonely bluesmen with electric guitars, by full choirs and small vocal groups. Both the vocals and instruments are often too loud or large for the microphones: the organs and guitars are distorted at volumes meant to reach the heavens, and the voices cannot communicate the power and glory of God into the technology of mere mortals.
Compiler Mike McGonigal has gathered 80 tracks, representing various African-American gospel traditions, and spread them out over three discs, purposely avoiding any thematic, geographical or chronological threads. The material from the ’70s isn’t any higher fidelity than that from the ’40s; there are proto-rock’n’roll tracks from the ’50s, and solo blues recordings from the ’80s that sound like they could be 60 years older. Boogie-woogie piano, soul music, fife and drum, blues, country and straight-up preaching all appear here; it’s the diversity, and the mix of the amateurish and the awesome, that make this compilation work.
It’s an embarrassment of riches, of course: this is four hours of music, and it’s way more gospel than even hardcore collectors can digest easily. But once you stray from the canon of the great gospel recordings, Fire in My Bones can fill in all the rest of the blanks. (Feb. 4)
Download: only available on CD
F---ed Up – Couple Tracks: Singles 2002-2009 (Matador/Beggars Banquet)
When this Toronto hardcore punk band snatched the 2008 Polaris Prize for their album Chemistry of Common Life, it shocked mainstream observers. But it was the culmination of almost a decade of work and a prolific recording output.
Most of that output has been captured on seven-inch singles, and it says a lot about F---ed Up’s dedication to the form that this double CD is their second collection of singles.
That makes it an obvious must-have for fans. But more importantly, it presents a side of the band that’s much more exciting than the over-cooked, too-ambitious epic that was Chemistry of Common Life—an album that, despite its acclaim for breaking out of the hardcore genre, seemed to bleed the band dry and neuter their raw power. Here, on the other hand, they’re consistent, concise and leaping out of the speakers like it’s the last three minutes of their life—exactly what punk rock should ideally sound like.
The attempts to diversify beyond punk go no further than a Christmas song (“David Christmas”), incongruous hardcore versions of twee U.K. indie pop songs (“Anorak City”), and incorporating samples of Spanish Civil War movies and Palestinian prisoners—but it all works.
The only fault here is the volume of material. As a vocalist, Damian “Pink Eyes” Abraham doesn’t have the off-stage charisma to carry two CDs worth of material; thankfully, the rest of the band make up for it in ways that isn’t evident on the full-length albums—and it’s easy to compare, as some album tracks appear here in different and drastically improved versions (“No Epiphany”).
Thirty-five years after punk was born by declaring war on bloated album rock one single at a time, F---ed Up aims to balance both worlds—and it’s obvious here that the singles win. (Feb. 18)
Download: “Generation,” “Toronto FC,” “I Don’t Wanna Be Friends With You”
Peter Gabriel – Scratch My Back (Universal)
Peter Gabriel has always seemed to exist in another world: his recordings are always mysterious, high-tech tours-de-force; his stage shows are elaborate and theatrical; his tastes tend to be global and more esoteric than most.
And yet here we find him sitting at a piano with nothing more than a string section behind him, singing stripped-down versions of some of his favourite pop songs. His source material includes some of his contemporaries (Paul Simon, David Bowie, Lou Reed, David Byrne), but also a younger generation of writers (Regina Spektor, Elbow), some of them on small-scale indie labels (Arcade Fire, Bon Iver).
The good news is that Gabriel is in fine voice, and the string arrangements sidestep cliché and revel in the possibilities of pulling the original song apart, as on Radiohead’s “Street Spirit” and the Talking Heads’ “Listening Wind.” The songs that are the least recognizable—like David Bowie’s Heroes—are often the best, and certainly the most revelatory.
The bad news is that every song is dragged to a dead-slow tempo, and Gabriel’s ponderous vocals render some of the lyrics ridiculous—Paul Simon’s “Boy in the Bubble” and the Magnetic Fields’ “Book of Love” in particular. Even though the latter is supposed to be satirical, by making it morbid Gabriel slips into the downright silly. Arcade Fire’s “My Body is a Cage,” despite the stripped down arrangement, manages to be unnecessarily even more bombastic than the original (and that’s saying something).
It doesn’t help that Gabriel pronounces the latter title like “my buddy is a cage.” Some of the songwriters here might say the same about him. (Feb. 25)
Download: "Heroes," "Listening Wind," "Apres Moi"
k.d. lang – Recollection (Universal)
k.d. lang – A Truly Western Experience (Bumstead)
There’s no dispute that k.d. lang was the musical highlight of the Olympic opening ceremonies this year: one of the greatest singers in the world singing one of the greatest songs in the world. And no doubt it helps her career even more that her appearance coincided with a new compilation of her adult-contemporary pop years, one that features not one, but two versions of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” (a song that she herself has called for a moratorium on).
But dial back 22 years and recall, if you will, the opening ceremonies of the 1988 Calgary Winter Games, where a then fairly obscure country singer tore it up with a two-step fiddle tune. It’s easy to forget that, before she had “Constant Craving,” she made her mark on country music by being one of the most bold and brash singers in any genre.
That side of lang—and many more—is heard on the 25th anniversary reissue of her debut album, A Truly Western Experience. Here we hear the rowdy cowpunk (“Bopalena,” “Hanky Panky”), the balladeer (“Busy Being Blue,” “Pine and Stew”), the traditionalist (“Stop Look and Listen”), and even the performance artist (“Hooked on Junk,” “Johnny Get Angry”). Not only is lang on fire throughout, but the first incarnation of her band the Reclines—especially keyboardist Stewart Macdougall—rise to her occasion.
This reissue is enhanced by the two tracks from her debut seven-inch single in 1983 (featuring Amos Garrett on guitar), three live tracks of unreleased cover songs, an early demo, and a bonus DVD with three videos. The 2006 compilation Reintarnation offered a full retrospective of k.d.’s country years, but A Truly Western Experience easily stands apart from everything else lang has ever done.
Recollection is a badly needed compilation of the last 20 years, where lang’s albums have been spotty, and some of her best work has been scattered on soundtracks or charity compilations. So along with the obvious hits, here we get duets with Tony Bennett and Jane Siberry, and covers of the Beatles, Joni Mitchell, and Cole Porter. Most importantly for any serious fan are two long-orphaned soundtrack songs: her stunning duet with the incomparable Roy Orbison on his classic “Crying,” and her own “Barefoot,” the haunting song from her lone starring film role, Salmonberries.
k.d. lang is at a point in her career when she can afford to coast on her reputation alone—a reputation that boasts such frequent accolades as “one of the greatest singers alive today”—and these two releases are welcome peeks at how she earned that reputation, note by note, song by song. (Feb. 25)
Download: “Barefoot,” “Crying,” “Help Me”
Download: “Bopalena,” “Pine and Stew,” Mercy”
Le Loup – Family (Hardly Art)
The most acclaimed album of 2008 was the Fleet Foxes’ self-titled debut, full of folkie vocal harmonies singing gorgeous melodies over unconventional song structures that were still undeniably pop, despite all the banjos involved. In 2009, the most acclaimed album was by freak-folk/electronic-manipulator hippies Animal Collective. Along with sharing a fondness for wildlife monikers, Le Loup takes the best of both acts and spins their own brand of magic. They write stronger melodies than Animal Collective, and are more willing to strip down their songs to one chord than Fleet Foxes, floating on trance-like rhythms from acoustic percussion, and bathing the banjos and tambourines in reverb for full psychedelic effect. And yet for all its adventurism, it’s not as off-kilter as one might expect: there are rousing anthems and many moments of sublime and subtle beauty. Le Loup might be behind the pack when it comes to mass attention now, but they’re already artistically ahead of their peers. (Feb. 4)
Download: “Beach Town,” “Sherpa,” “Forgive Me”
Massive Attack – Heligoland (EMI)
As important and influential as Massive Attack was to the ’90s, there was always something inescapably icy and distant about them—and it wasn’t just the terrible lyrics that tried to be as profound and ominous as the music.
But for whatever reason, they return from a seven-year hiatus—and by saying “they,” that includes returning member Daddy G, who was absent from 2003’s 100th Window—sounding refreshed, relaxed and even warm.
For a band that attempted to fuse British goth mystery with American R&B to create a spooky stoner vibe for the digital age, Heligoland—inexplicably named after the first British-German naval battle of WWI—is looser and has less clinical digital precision, evident in something as simple as the handclaps that punctuate “Paradise Circus,” where guest vocalist Hope Sandoval sounds considerably more earthy (and American?) than most of their other fabled star turns of the past (Sinead O’Connor, the Cocteau Twins’ Elizabeth Fraser).
This time out the guest list includes Tunde Adebimpe of TV on the Radio (a band that owes a small debt to Massive Attack), who does a passable job on the opening “Pray for Rain.” But it’s safe to say that Damon Albarn (Blur, Gorillaz) delivers the worst vocal of his career on the turgid “Saturday Come Slow,” where he warbles a question that he’d really rather we not answer: “do you love me?”
Guy Garvey of Elbow turns in a surprising vocal performance on the skitterish, abstract Bjork-like beats of “Flat of the Blade,” a track that takes everyone involved admirably outside their comfort zone.
It’s consistent collaborator and reggae great Horace Andy who really steps up, as always, on “Girl I Love You,” a song that’s much more inspiring than its title, and is in fact one of the strongest tracks in Massive Attack’s entire discography—as is the funky fantasia of “Atlas Air,” where vintage organs replace the synth sheen that’s been a staple of the group’s sound.
Apparently plenty of tracks and high-profile collaborations were left on the cutting room floor during Heligoland’s long gestation period; with the exception of the Albarn track, it’s obvious that the meticulous editing process paid off for these veteran innovators. (Feb. 11)
Download: “Atlas Air,” “Girl I Love You,” “Splitting the Atom”
Pit er Pat – The Flexible Entertainer (Thrill Jockey)
Despite their delicate name, Pit er Pat make a lot of noise for a duo. Not loud, obnoxious, dense noise—but heavy grooves created with both live drums and an MPC drum machine, disorienting electronics, and simple guitar lines. Much of the aptly titled The Flexible Entertainer continues to draw from dub, industrial music, surf guitar, experimental rock and psychedelic electronics, with plenty of space left for two people to pull it off live—this album was written for a specific tour after they lost their third member, and they’ve lost none of their complexity or sense of adventure in the process.
Some listeners hear more hip-hop influences on this album, part of a prolific discography that has largely existed outside of any musical genre. And that’s true on a track like “Water,” which would work perfectly as the backdrop to one of The Clipse’s more ominous narratives. But no matter what influences are absorbed by remaining members Butchy Fuego and Fay Davis-Jeffers, their unique sound remains rock solid. (Feb. 4)
Download: “Water,” “Chavez Ravine,” “Specimen”
Sade – Soldier of Love (Sony)
Listening to the title track and first single off Sade’s first album in 10 years, she sounds tougher than she has since her debut album—not that she was ever particularly tough, but most of her material doesn’t cut the mustard outside the cozy confines of the bedroom. “Soldier of Love” boasts a bigger beat than we’re used to hearing from Sade, with chunky electric guitar accents and a cinematic quality that could almost pass it off as a James Bond theme.
Too bad it’s a red herring: much of this album is far too pacifist and passive, more sedative than seductive. And not just the grooves, as her lyrics are often equally lazy: “My heart is a lonely warrior/ it’s been to war.” The less said about the wretched “Babyfather” the better, but it is worth quoting once: “Child don’t you know/ your daddy’s love comes with a lifetime guarantee?” Too bad the album doesn’t come with a money-back guarantee. (Feb. 11)
Download: “Soldier of Love,” “Bring Me Home,” “The Moon and the Sky”
Gil Scott-Heron – I’m New Here (XL)
Everyone loves a comeback story—especially when it’s as potent as this one, in which a once vibrant and powerful political poet survives horrific addiction issues and federal incarceration, resurfacing as a weathered shell of a man reflecting on the losses and loves of his life. And intriguingly, he does so against a sonic backdrop that pulls him both back to acoustic blues and forward to dark electronic beats and textures that make his death’s-door delivery that much more compelling.
In 1971, after publishing two novels, the 21-year old Gil Scott-Heron debuted his combination of jazz, funk, poetry and social justice with the iconic song “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” and later landmarks like “Winter in America” and “B-Movie.” The last 30 years have not been as kind to him, to say the least, and hearing him croak through “New York Is Killing Me”—with its line “eight million people and I didn’t have a single friend”—is heartbreaking.
As is the rest of I’m New Here. Unlike Rick Rubin’s recordings with Johnny Cash in the twilight of that great artist’s life, this sounds more like resignation than resilience. Heron talks of being circled by vultures (“Your Soul and Mine”), of dealing with the devil (a cover of Robert Johnson’s “Me and the Devil”), and a “savage beast that once soothed his brain” (“The Crutch”). The lone line of solace on the album comes in the title track (a Bill Callahan cover), where he insists: “No matter how far wrong you’ve gone/ you can always turn around.”
Of the 15 tracks, only eight are actual songs as opposed to short spoken interludes, and three of those are covers—albeit well chosen by producer (and XL label head) Richard Russell, who coaxed the album into existence.
Russell gives Heron the bare minimum of instrumental backing, in either acoustic or electronic settings—allowing all the focus to sit solely on Heron’s cracked vocals. This is both for better and worse, as Heron’s profundity has waned considerably, with the lone exception of “Running”: “It’s easier to run/ easier than staying and finding out you’re the only one who didn’t run.”
It’s a welcome sign of life for this once towering figure, who had become a ghost of a man. And yet it’s as uncomfortable as it is curious; the only real reward is hearing him once again stand tall and proud and back from the dead. (Feb. 18)
Download: “Me and the Devil,” “New York is Killing Me,” “Running”
Yukon Blonde – s/t (Nevado)
The appeal of this Kelowna band is entirely Fleeting—not in the ephemeral sense, but in the breezy West Coast pop sound whose 35-year lineage extends from Fleetwood Mac to Fleet Foxes. Vocals are at the forefront, shimmering guitars colour every corner, and classic rock chops put some muscle behind the arrangements. More importantly, every song features hook-heavy earworms. And even though Yukon Blonde never stray from their sunshiny sound, the songs themselves don’t stick to three chords and standard verse-chorus-verse structure. There is much to love here for fans of Sloan or My Morning Jacket, and don’t be one bit surprised if, by the end of 2010, Yukon Blonde become the biggest indie pop band from B.C. since the New Pornographers. (Feb. 18)
Download: “Blood Cops,” “Kumiko Song,” “Wind Blows”
Briga – Diaspora (Festival)
Balkan music is not only powerful and passionate, but it can also be lightning quick—usually for brass players. Briga is Montreal’s Brigitte Dajczer (Les Gitans de Sarajevo, Geoff Berner), who tackles impossible tempos on her violin with the help of an equally awesome, jazzy band behind her. The production is a bit too pristine for those who like their worldly sounds raw, but the power of the playing is undeniable. And because she needs to take a breather, the second disc here finds her crooning in a French chanson style—it’s somewhat less successful than the instrumentals, but proves that she’s got the whole package. Expect her to be the talk of the folk festival circuit this summer. (Feb. 11)
Briga plays Hugh's Room in Toronto on Feb. 23, with more central Canadian dates in the ensuing weeks.
Download: “Couscousescu,” “Hora Martisorului,” “Qalbi”
Bruno Capinan – Gozo (independent)
There is no doubting Bruno Capinan’s Brazilian roots, even if he made this, his debut album, in Toronto with many of the city’s finest players. But while he sings in Portugese and there’s a very clear influence from bossa nova and tropicalia, Capinan is by no means a traditionalist. And nor is he the kind of artist to simply slap coffeehouse electronic beats onto his indigenous music.
Instead, Capinan charts his own course, with his smooth crooning leading the way through string arrangements, jazz leanings, electronic shadings, and occasional art-rock leanings. The track Astral features a dubby Massive Attack groove, a melancholy violin evoking European cabaret, and a sci-fi theremin thrown in for good measure. Capinan’s anything-goes approach is put to the ultimate test when he transforms Hank Williams’ “Your Cheating Heart” into a whispered rumba—a daring move that doesn’t sound the least bit unnatural in Capinan’s hands.
Apparently just after this album’s release, Capinan headed back to Brazil after seven years in Toronto; that’s our loss, because Gozo is sure to be one of the most inventive and rewarding albums of 2010 to be released in this rock’n’roll country. (Feb. 11)
Download: “Astral,” “Tantas Horas,” “Your Cheating Heart”
Chicago Underground Duo – Boca Negra (Thrill Jockey)
The “Chicago Underground” is much more than a duo; in the past 12 years there have been 11 releases involving the core duo of cornet player Rob Mazurek and percussionist Chad Taylor, along with various players from the infinitely fertile Chicago experimental scene. But it is as a duo that these two flourish and explore the seemingly endless limits of their creativity.
Boca Negra starts subtly, with Mazurek playing little more than glissando scales, and Taylor riding rolling waves on his toms. But by the second track, we’re immersed in what sounds like birdsong and gamelan, and on the hypnotic “Hermeto,” there is neither percussion nor trumpet. The dynamic duo are entirely devoid of any predictability; one minute they’re seemingly entirely esoteric and arrhythmical, the next they’re in a hard funk groove.
Mazurek’s cornet paints with colour more than melody, and much of this album really belongs to Taylor, who has been moonlighting in pop music recently with Iron and Wine and sounds excited to be let loose again here. (Feb. 25)
Download: “Spy on the Floor,” “Confliction,” “Left Hand of Darkness”
Matt Epp – Safe or Free (independent)
This overlooked gem from late 2009 is a lovely introduction to this Christian troubadour from Winnipeg. These songs were written on the road from Newfoundland to Toronto to Mexico to the West Coast, with a lot of time to stare out the window of a passing vehicle and ponder philosophy. Epp’s husky voice works in every setting here, whether it’s just him and his acoustic guitar, fronting a raucous rootsy rock’n’roll band, or harmonizing with guest vocalists Amelia Curran and Eliza Gilkyson (both underrated songwriters in their own right). His songs don’t need much help to shine, but there’s a stellar cast of players here that flesh things out in every direction, including the Waking Eyes’ Rusty Matyas on various duties, including “alienesque spacezoid ambience.” Being the restless soul he is, this promising album suggests Epp is ready to go anywhere and everywhere—both literally and artistically. (Feb. 4)
Download: “This Old House,” “Working Holiday,” “They Won’t Find the Bodies”
Fire in My Bones: Raw, Rare and Otherworldly African-American Gospel 1944-2007 (Tompkins Square)
There are those that think that the path to spiritual enlightenment can only be reached by competing with pop hits to reach the heathens. This album is not for those people.
The subtitle is perfect: this is as raw as gritty gospel gets, made by true believers in tiny congregations, by lonely bluesmen with electric guitars, by full choirs and small vocal groups. Both the vocals and instruments are often too loud or large for the microphones: the organs and guitars are distorted at volumes meant to reach the heavens, and the voices cannot communicate the power and glory of God into the technology of mere mortals.
Compiler Mike McGonigal has gathered 80 tracks, representing various African-American gospel traditions, and spread them out over three discs, purposely avoiding any thematic, geographical or chronological threads. The material from the ’70s isn’t any higher fidelity than that from the ’40s; there are proto-rock’n’roll tracks from the ’50s, and solo blues recordings from the ’80s that sound like they could be 60 years older. Boogie-woogie piano, soul music, fife and drum, blues, country and straight-up preaching all appear here; it’s the diversity, and the mix of the amateurish and the awesome, that make this compilation work.
It’s an embarrassment of riches, of course: this is four hours of music, and it’s way more gospel than even hardcore collectors can digest easily. But once you stray from the canon of the great gospel recordings, Fire in My Bones can fill in all the rest of the blanks. (Feb. 4)
Download: only available on CD
F---ed Up – Couple Tracks: Singles 2002-2009 (Matador/Beggars Banquet)
When this Toronto hardcore punk band snatched the 2008 Polaris Prize for their album Chemistry of Common Life, it shocked mainstream observers. But it was the culmination of almost a decade of work and a prolific recording output.
Most of that output has been captured on seven-inch singles, and it says a lot about F---ed Up’s dedication to the form that this double CD is their second collection of singles.
That makes it an obvious must-have for fans. But more importantly, it presents a side of the band that’s much more exciting than the over-cooked, too-ambitious epic that was Chemistry of Common Life—an album that, despite its acclaim for breaking out of the hardcore genre, seemed to bleed the band dry and neuter their raw power. Here, on the other hand, they’re consistent, concise and leaping out of the speakers like it’s the last three minutes of their life—exactly what punk rock should ideally sound like.
The attempts to diversify beyond punk go no further than a Christmas song (“David Christmas”), incongruous hardcore versions of twee U.K. indie pop songs (“Anorak City”), and incorporating samples of Spanish Civil War movies and Palestinian prisoners—but it all works.
The only fault here is the volume of material. As a vocalist, Damian “Pink Eyes” Abraham doesn’t have the off-stage charisma to carry two CDs worth of material; thankfully, the rest of the band make up for it in ways that isn’t evident on the full-length albums—and it’s easy to compare, as some album tracks appear here in different and drastically improved versions (“No Epiphany”).
Thirty-five years after punk was born by declaring war on bloated album rock one single at a time, F---ed Up aims to balance both worlds—and it’s obvious here that the singles win. (Feb. 18)
Download: “Generation,” “Toronto FC,” “I Don’t Wanna Be Friends With You”
Peter Gabriel – Scratch My Back (Universal)
Peter Gabriel has always seemed to exist in another world: his recordings are always mysterious, high-tech tours-de-force; his stage shows are elaborate and theatrical; his tastes tend to be global and more esoteric than most.
And yet here we find him sitting at a piano with nothing more than a string section behind him, singing stripped-down versions of some of his favourite pop songs. His source material includes some of his contemporaries (Paul Simon, David Bowie, Lou Reed, David Byrne), but also a younger generation of writers (Regina Spektor, Elbow), some of them on small-scale indie labels (Arcade Fire, Bon Iver).
The good news is that Gabriel is in fine voice, and the string arrangements sidestep cliché and revel in the possibilities of pulling the original song apart, as on Radiohead’s “Street Spirit” and the Talking Heads’ “Listening Wind.” The songs that are the least recognizable—like David Bowie’s Heroes—are often the best, and certainly the most revelatory.
The bad news is that every song is dragged to a dead-slow tempo, and Gabriel’s ponderous vocals render some of the lyrics ridiculous—Paul Simon’s “Boy in the Bubble” and the Magnetic Fields’ “Book of Love” in particular. Even though the latter is supposed to be satirical, by making it morbid Gabriel slips into the downright silly. Arcade Fire’s “My Body is a Cage,” despite the stripped down arrangement, manages to be unnecessarily even more bombastic than the original (and that’s saying something).
It doesn’t help that Gabriel pronounces the latter title like “my buddy is a cage.” Some of the songwriters here might say the same about him. (Feb. 25)
Download: "Heroes," "Listening Wind," "Apres Moi"
k.d. lang – Recollection (Universal)
k.d. lang – A Truly Western Experience (Bumstead)
There’s no dispute that k.d. lang was the musical highlight of the Olympic opening ceremonies this year: one of the greatest singers in the world singing one of the greatest songs in the world. And no doubt it helps her career even more that her appearance coincided with a new compilation of her adult-contemporary pop years, one that features not one, but two versions of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” (a song that she herself has called for a moratorium on).
But dial back 22 years and recall, if you will, the opening ceremonies of the 1988 Calgary Winter Games, where a then fairly obscure country singer tore it up with a two-step fiddle tune. It’s easy to forget that, before she had “Constant Craving,” she made her mark on country music by being one of the most bold and brash singers in any genre.
That side of lang—and many more—is heard on the 25th anniversary reissue of her debut album, A Truly Western Experience. Here we hear the rowdy cowpunk (“Bopalena,” “Hanky Panky”), the balladeer (“Busy Being Blue,” “Pine and Stew”), the traditionalist (“Stop Look and Listen”), and even the performance artist (“Hooked on Junk,” “Johnny Get Angry”). Not only is lang on fire throughout, but the first incarnation of her band the Reclines—especially keyboardist Stewart Macdougall—rise to her occasion.
This reissue is enhanced by the two tracks from her debut seven-inch single in 1983 (featuring Amos Garrett on guitar), three live tracks of unreleased cover songs, an early demo, and a bonus DVD with three videos. The 2006 compilation Reintarnation offered a full retrospective of k.d.’s country years, but A Truly Western Experience easily stands apart from everything else lang has ever done.
Recollection is a badly needed compilation of the last 20 years, where lang’s albums have been spotty, and some of her best work has been scattered on soundtracks or charity compilations. So along with the obvious hits, here we get duets with Tony Bennett and Jane Siberry, and covers of the Beatles, Joni Mitchell, and Cole Porter. Most importantly for any serious fan are two long-orphaned soundtrack songs: her stunning duet with the incomparable Roy Orbison on his classic “Crying,” and her own “Barefoot,” the haunting song from her lone starring film role, Salmonberries.
k.d. lang is at a point in her career when she can afford to coast on her reputation alone—a reputation that boasts such frequent accolades as “one of the greatest singers alive today”—and these two releases are welcome peeks at how she earned that reputation, note by note, song by song. (Feb. 25)
Download: “Barefoot,” “Crying,” “Help Me”
Download: “Bopalena,” “Pine and Stew,” Mercy”
Le Loup – Family (Hardly Art)
The most acclaimed album of 2008 was the Fleet Foxes’ self-titled debut, full of folkie vocal harmonies singing gorgeous melodies over unconventional song structures that were still undeniably pop, despite all the banjos involved. In 2009, the most acclaimed album was by freak-folk/electronic-manipulator hippies Animal Collective. Along with sharing a fondness for wildlife monikers, Le Loup takes the best of both acts and spins their own brand of magic. They write stronger melodies than Animal Collective, and are more willing to strip down their songs to one chord than Fleet Foxes, floating on trance-like rhythms from acoustic percussion, and bathing the banjos and tambourines in reverb for full psychedelic effect. And yet for all its adventurism, it’s not as off-kilter as one might expect: there are rousing anthems and many moments of sublime and subtle beauty. Le Loup might be behind the pack when it comes to mass attention now, but they’re already artistically ahead of their peers. (Feb. 4)
Download: “Beach Town,” “Sherpa,” “Forgive Me”
Massive Attack – Heligoland (EMI)
As important and influential as Massive Attack was to the ’90s, there was always something inescapably icy and distant about them—and it wasn’t just the terrible lyrics that tried to be as profound and ominous as the music.
But for whatever reason, they return from a seven-year hiatus—and by saying “they,” that includes returning member Daddy G, who was absent from 2003’s 100th Window—sounding refreshed, relaxed and even warm.
For a band that attempted to fuse British goth mystery with American R&B to create a spooky stoner vibe for the digital age, Heligoland—inexplicably named after the first British-German naval battle of WWI—is looser and has less clinical digital precision, evident in something as simple as the handclaps that punctuate “Paradise Circus,” where guest vocalist Hope Sandoval sounds considerably more earthy (and American?) than most of their other fabled star turns of the past (Sinead O’Connor, the Cocteau Twins’ Elizabeth Fraser).
This time out the guest list includes Tunde Adebimpe of TV on the Radio (a band that owes a small debt to Massive Attack), who does a passable job on the opening “Pray for Rain.” But it’s safe to say that Damon Albarn (Blur, Gorillaz) delivers the worst vocal of his career on the turgid “Saturday Come Slow,” where he warbles a question that he’d really rather we not answer: “do you love me?”
Guy Garvey of Elbow turns in a surprising vocal performance on the skitterish, abstract Bjork-like beats of “Flat of the Blade,” a track that takes everyone involved admirably outside their comfort zone.
It’s consistent collaborator and reggae great Horace Andy who really steps up, as always, on “Girl I Love You,” a song that’s much more inspiring than its title, and is in fact one of the strongest tracks in Massive Attack’s entire discography—as is the funky fantasia of “Atlas Air,” where vintage organs replace the synth sheen that’s been a staple of the group’s sound.
Apparently plenty of tracks and high-profile collaborations were left on the cutting room floor during Heligoland’s long gestation period; with the exception of the Albarn track, it’s obvious that the meticulous editing process paid off for these veteran innovators. (Feb. 11)
Download: “Atlas Air,” “Girl I Love You,” “Splitting the Atom”
Pit er Pat – The Flexible Entertainer (Thrill Jockey)
Despite their delicate name, Pit er Pat make a lot of noise for a duo. Not loud, obnoxious, dense noise—but heavy grooves created with both live drums and an MPC drum machine, disorienting electronics, and simple guitar lines. Much of the aptly titled The Flexible Entertainer continues to draw from dub, industrial music, surf guitar, experimental rock and psychedelic electronics, with plenty of space left for two people to pull it off live—this album was written for a specific tour after they lost their third member, and they’ve lost none of their complexity or sense of adventure in the process.
Some listeners hear more hip-hop influences on this album, part of a prolific discography that has largely existed outside of any musical genre. And that’s true on a track like “Water,” which would work perfectly as the backdrop to one of The Clipse’s more ominous narratives. But no matter what influences are absorbed by remaining members Butchy Fuego and Fay Davis-Jeffers, their unique sound remains rock solid. (Feb. 4)
Download: “Water,” “Chavez Ravine,” “Specimen”
Sade – Soldier of Love (Sony)
Listening to the title track and first single off Sade’s first album in 10 years, she sounds tougher than she has since her debut album—not that she was ever particularly tough, but most of her material doesn’t cut the mustard outside the cozy confines of the bedroom. “Soldier of Love” boasts a bigger beat than we’re used to hearing from Sade, with chunky electric guitar accents and a cinematic quality that could almost pass it off as a James Bond theme.
Too bad it’s a red herring: much of this album is far too pacifist and passive, more sedative than seductive. And not just the grooves, as her lyrics are often equally lazy: “My heart is a lonely warrior/ it’s been to war.” The less said about the wretched “Babyfather” the better, but it is worth quoting once: “Child don’t you know/ your daddy’s love comes with a lifetime guarantee?” Too bad the album doesn’t come with a money-back guarantee. (Feb. 11)
Download: “Soldier of Love,” “Bring Me Home,” “The Moon and the Sky”
Gil Scott-Heron – I’m New Here (XL)
Everyone loves a comeback story—especially when it’s as potent as this one, in which a once vibrant and powerful political poet survives horrific addiction issues and federal incarceration, resurfacing as a weathered shell of a man reflecting on the losses and loves of his life. And intriguingly, he does so against a sonic backdrop that pulls him both back to acoustic blues and forward to dark electronic beats and textures that make his death’s-door delivery that much more compelling.
In 1971, after publishing two novels, the 21-year old Gil Scott-Heron debuted his combination of jazz, funk, poetry and social justice with the iconic song “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” and later landmarks like “Winter in America” and “B-Movie.” The last 30 years have not been as kind to him, to say the least, and hearing him croak through “New York Is Killing Me”—with its line “eight million people and I didn’t have a single friend”—is heartbreaking.
As is the rest of I’m New Here. Unlike Rick Rubin’s recordings with Johnny Cash in the twilight of that great artist’s life, this sounds more like resignation than resilience. Heron talks of being circled by vultures (“Your Soul and Mine”), of dealing with the devil (a cover of Robert Johnson’s “Me and the Devil”), and a “savage beast that once soothed his brain” (“The Crutch”). The lone line of solace on the album comes in the title track (a Bill Callahan cover), where he insists: “No matter how far wrong you’ve gone/ you can always turn around.”
Of the 15 tracks, only eight are actual songs as opposed to short spoken interludes, and three of those are covers—albeit well chosen by producer (and XL label head) Richard Russell, who coaxed the album into existence.
Russell gives Heron the bare minimum of instrumental backing, in either acoustic or electronic settings—allowing all the focus to sit solely on Heron’s cracked vocals. This is both for better and worse, as Heron’s profundity has waned considerably, with the lone exception of “Running”: “It’s easier to run/ easier than staying and finding out you’re the only one who didn’t run.”
It’s a welcome sign of life for this once towering figure, who had become a ghost of a man. And yet it’s as uncomfortable as it is curious; the only real reward is hearing him once again stand tall and proud and back from the dead. (Feb. 18)
Download: “Me and the Devil,” “New York is Killing Me,” “Running”
Yukon Blonde – s/t (Nevado)
The appeal of this Kelowna band is entirely Fleeting—not in the ephemeral sense, but in the breezy West Coast pop sound whose 35-year lineage extends from Fleetwood Mac to Fleet Foxes. Vocals are at the forefront, shimmering guitars colour every corner, and classic rock chops put some muscle behind the arrangements. More importantly, every song features hook-heavy earworms. And even though Yukon Blonde never stray from their sunshiny sound, the songs themselves don’t stick to three chords and standard verse-chorus-verse structure. There is much to love here for fans of Sloan or My Morning Jacket, and don’t be one bit surprised if, by the end of 2010, Yukon Blonde become the biggest indie pop band from B.C. since the New Pornographers. (Feb. 18)
Download: “Blood Cops,” “Kumiko Song,” “Wind Blows”
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Wavelength 500
When a 10-year institution throws an anniversary party with reunions and reflections galore, it can easily be accused of nostalgia.
But at Wavelength 500—the five-day festival marking the end of the Toronto weekly music series that, it has been argued, changed the way the city’s music scene saw itself—there was no looking back, especially when the MC of the party was constantly—and I do mean constantly—hectoring the audience to be a part of the future, and demanding that they all go home and start bands.
Carl Wilson wrote in the Globe and Mail last Friday that Wavelength had become “a solution without a problem.” The problem in 2000 was a serious inertia in the Toronto music scene, a time when rock’n’roll was dead as a genre, the music industry was starting to collapse, and no one even seemed that interested in live music of any kind anymore. Cut to 2010, and one finds that Toronto is constantly opening new venues, not shuttering them, and there’s no shortage of live audiences for every possible genre. And furthermore, even our fringe artists—like the incredibly prolific doomcore guitarist Aidan Baker of Nadja—get international acclaim, long ago freed from the albatross of attempting to crack some pre-conceived notion of what Canadian culture was or should be.
And so the challenge of carefully curating three bands every Sunday night became a burden for the four men who were in charge of Wavelength in its final years, and they decided to retire that aspect of the project and focus on larger events. And what better way to kick off a retirement party, than with a five-night-five-venue-five-bands-a-night extravaganza?
I was lucky enough to be at every show, though I can’t claim to have seen every act that played. While I saw amazing sets by Bruce Peninsula, Diamond Rings, Professor Fingers, Holy Fuck, the Bicycles, the Constantines and more, it was the final night, the Sunday at the Garrison, that answered the eternal question: What Does It All Mean?
Having missed the first act, Boars, the evening then began with two bands that played the first Wavelength ever in February 2000: Neck and Mean Red Spiders. I’d never heard the former; I remember only that I was never impressed with the latter. Though both are obviously beloved by the Wavelength crew—and Jonny Dovercourt played bass in Neck—it became obvious to me that both bands were part of the problem of Toronto in the late ’90s, and what Wavelength’s children eventually sought out to destroy: music that was non-descript, no fun and missing soul. (To be fair, I also loathe the act each is compared to respectively: Mission of Burma and My Bloody Valentine.) Both bands were interminable. Both were merely “there,” not so terrible that I felt I had to leave the room. If they had made me angry, I would have respected them more.
(If such criticism sounds harsh and antithetical to the whole point of Wavelength, I’ll admit that it is. And in the interest of fairness, two other bands that drove me crazy were the rapturously received reunions of From Fiction and Rockets Red Glare, even though I have maximum respect for individual musicians in each of those bands.)
Ultimately, it was the contrast with what followed on the rest of this closing night that illuminated the changes that had happened in Toronto during Wavelength’s reign.
Barcelona Pavilion predated the short-lived tempest-in-a-teapot scene controversy known as the “Bad Bands Revolution” of 2006, though they surely inspired much of it. As they insisted on the short, sharp call for a “New Materiology,” “NEEDS MUST DICTATE FORM.” Singing and screaming about semiotics in German and English over primitive programming and two bass guitars, they dared to ask the one question that plagued Toronto, aka what hip-hop heads call the “screwface capital”: “How Are You People Going To Have Fun If None Of You People Ever Participate?”
Steve Kado and Maggie MacDonald were Hidden Cameras who were itching to unleash their supersized personalities outside the confines of the Cameras’ one-man operation, hence spawning Barcelona Pavilion. Kat Gligorijevic was a fan swept in the new spirit of Toronto at the turn of the decade. Ben Stimpson was recruited because Kado thought it would be funny to have his friend attach a laptop to a strap (like a strolling ballpark food vendor) and stand on stage and do nothing. Gligorijevic and Stimpson were stoic and nerdy cute; MacDonald and Kado were white hot and combustible, hilarious loudmouths and strong personalities who eventually had a (perhaps inevitably) bitter falling-out. All of them embraced immediacy and amateurism, although in Kado’s case it’s entirely deceptive: for all his railing against “men who practice,” he’s an intuitively gifted musician, and his melodic bass playing is a big reason why Barcelona Pavilion works in the first place.
Their whole ethos is equivalent to one of MC Doc Pickles’ many rants this past week: don’t think, DO. “How is your hangover? How are your bedsores?” taunts Kado on “Participate” (to which he coyly added, in a fit of self-consciousness about staging “dinosaur act” reunion shows, “How is your gray hair? How is your mortgage?”). You know that something like the Barcelona Pavilion can only be born of frustration, of dissecting a dominant situation and deciding that anything has to be better than the bill of goods we’re being sold.
And most importantly: the music of Barcelona Pavilion makes you feel alive, like life is waiting to be discovered, like wallowing in self-pity is self-inflicted cultural genocide, like what’s happening right now is the most important time in your life.
That latter point makes a reunion show a bit of an odd notion, and there were more than a few on-stage jabs at over-glorifying the mid-decade movement of Torontopia, which was most closely associated with Kado’s pontificating at the time. No matter. That time produced a sense of possibility that still exists today, even if some of its originators have moved on.
Barcelona Pavilion was followed by Kids on TV, who haven’t changed much at all in the past six years. Why would they? They’ve improved—as hopefully anyone would—but, like Barcelona Pavilion, how “good” or “bad” they are is entirely beside the point. There is pain, pleasure and politics mixed in with the party, and the spectacle is the thing.
The night was originally supposed to end there, but Owen Pallett was added to the bill at the last minute, along with one half of his current live line-up, a man known only as Thomas. Thomas and his band are hard to describe, and even harder to appreciate on first exposure—which this was, for many people there. Right up to its closing hours of its final Sunday, Wavelength was still introducing new talent.
Many performers have graduated from Wavelength to go on to great things, but Owen Pallett’s solo project—originally known as Final Fantasy—is perhaps the least likely. When he debuted it at Wavelength in 2004, Final Fantasy was one of about a half-dozen projects Pallett had on the go. And a solo violin looping project seemed the least likely of them to turn into a viable project—except that Pallett’s combination of his virtuosity and a balancing act between classical, pop and avant-garde moves made it a “winning formula.” That’s the kind of phrase that most Wavelengthers would recoil from, but there are precious few who begrudge Pallett his success. His homecoming here was beautiful and brief, a confident display of how what was once a daring and bold move has become everyday excellence—a perfect metaphor for Wavelength itself.
It didn’t end there. After what Doc Pickles called a “Saturday Night Live” moment, with all the organizers past and present on stage in a group hug, the Hidden Cameras took the stage. Ah yes, but which Hidden Cameras? Seemingly half of Toronto’s music scene has been in the band at one point or another, with bandleader Joel Gibb the lone consistent member. This one-song set, however, was a reunion of much of the original line-up, which included Steve Kado, Owen Pallett, Maggie MacDonald, Mathias Rozenberg, Magali Meagher, Gentleman Reg, and Dave Meslin, joined by Lex Vaughn, Thomas, and Kevin Drew.
The Hidden Cameras’ “I Believe in the Good of Life” is a Wavelengthian, Torontopian anthem if there ever was one—the “Rockin’ in the Free World,” if you will, of this generation’s time and place. It was preceded, as it would have been in 2002, by Dave Meslin making a brief plug for his latest civic engagement initiative. And it ended, as it would have in 2002, with dozens of people hauled on the stage to join the party— participatory democracy in action, if you will.
After the final chord and the final hugs, Doc Pickles was still on stage at 3 a.m. on this Sunday night, telling us that culture is not what Ben Mulroney and Jian Ghomeshi and Rogers Media tells us it is, that we are the culture, that we have to go home and make art, that life’s what you make it. The legacy that Wavelength helped create should never be taken for granted, never be lulled into complacency.
The only time you should rest on your laurels is if they’re lining your coffin.
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