In 2002, my wife (who was my girlfriend at the time) and I went on a brief vacation to New York. As part of our attempt to get as full of a “New York City experience” as possible, we visited some of the major art galleries in the city. One of them (which I think was the Whitney, but I can’t say for sure) featured a sonic installation; a local artist had recorded a bunch of sounds from the roof of his Brooklyn apartment building, and then stitched them together to create a sonic collage. The end result was a bizarre, fascinating experience to listen to.
This brings us, in a very roundabout way, to Patrick Watson. Watson’s not from Brooklyn, nor does he create avant-garde sound collages, but listening to his album Wooden Arms created the same feeling in me that I had in that New York art gallery: the feeling of being surrounded by a meticulously organized soundscape.
“Soundscape” is one of those words that gets misused a lot, I think, but it’s one that definitely belongs to this album – listening to it creates a sense of an organic, lush surrounding that is sort of happening around you as you’re listening to it. As a result, there’s not a lot of stand-out singles on the album (except for the tracks Beijing and the title track), but that’s not really what it’s trying to be, so you can’t really judge the album by taking a song at random and listening to it – you need to get the full context of the album in order to get a feel for what’s going on.
One of the interesting things about reviews albums like these Polaris nominees is that it really drives home the question of what makes for a good album – is it a collection of good songs, or is it something that needs to exist as a narrative, cohesive whole? You arguably get a more artistic experience from the full-album approach, but it makes it harder for someone not familiar with an artist to try them out. That lack of accessibility can be a big barrier in today’s mp3 driven world, but it’s nice to know that there’s people out there still making albums like this one.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Gary's Patrick Watson Review
You know those grey, rainy Sundays you spend inside, maybe curled up with a blanket and a magazine? Perhaps you're feeling a tiny bit maudlin or a little contemplative and looking for a soundtrack that reflects your mood. This is the ideal morning for Patrick Watson's Wooden Arms. It's a haunting, comfortable and vaguely hopeful collection of songs - that satiate all the feelings you crave on those reflective and overcast days. Grab a mug of hot coffee, put your feet up and leaf through the newspaper while Wooden Arms unravels in the background.
This feels less like an album of songs and more like a fragile and beautifully crafted antique - as intricate as a ship in a bottle. You're almost afraid that listening too often could snap any one of these delicate songs in half, but that's sort of the great part about it. You're experiencing music with an old soul, and yet never once sounding like a throw-back to another time. It is wholly unique, something almost unachievable in this day and age.
Watson has the uncanny ability to instantly transport you to wherever his mind happens to be. With an amazing accuracy, he paints a musical picture that bounces from the swirling, eddying currents of Tracey's Waters, to the hurried, hustle of Beijing - capturing exactly what you would expect from the hectic city itself, weaving in and out through imagined people.
Granted the loud/soft dynamic of the album is sparse. Watson seems content with his quiet, subdued sound (something I lambasted the Great Lake Swimmers for). And while there's no question he achieves an intimacy with his songs GLS could only dream of, it would have been nice to hear a bit more range. Perhaps that would have taken away from the slightly twisted movie-soundtrack aesthetic he so deftly builds (David Lynch would be inspired).
I liked this album and I think it has a succinct quality that makes it perfect for closing out this blog. Watson is a supremely talented musician as witnessed by his 2007 Polaris win. But I think this makes him a definite underdog to repeat less than two years later. It does however say a hell of a lot about the care and passion he pours into his art, and should he produce an album like this every two years, I wouldn't begrudge the selection committee for nominating him again.
This feels less like an album of songs and more like a fragile and beautifully crafted antique - as intricate as a ship in a bottle. You're almost afraid that listening too often could snap any one of these delicate songs in half, but that's sort of the great part about it. You're experiencing music with an old soul, and yet never once sounding like a throw-back to another time. It is wholly unique, something almost unachievable in this day and age.
Watson has the uncanny ability to instantly transport you to wherever his mind happens to be. With an amazing accuracy, he paints a musical picture that bounces from the swirling, eddying currents of Tracey's Waters, to the hurried, hustle of Beijing - capturing exactly what you would expect from the hectic city itself, weaving in and out through imagined people.
Granted the loud/soft dynamic of the album is sparse. Watson seems content with his quiet, subdued sound (something I lambasted the Great Lake Swimmers for). And while there's no question he achieves an intimacy with his songs GLS could only dream of, it would have been nice to hear a bit more range. Perhaps that would have taken away from the slightly twisted movie-soundtrack aesthetic he so deftly builds (David Lynch would be inspired).
I liked this album and I think it has a succinct quality that makes it perfect for closing out this blog. Watson is a supremely talented musician as witnessed by his 2007 Polaris win. But I think this makes him a definite underdog to repeat less than two years later. It does however say a hell of a lot about the care and passion he pours into his art, and should he produce an album like this every two years, I wouldn't begrudge the selection committee for nominating him again.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Dave's Metric Review - VERY VERY LATE
What’s really left to be said about Metric’s “Fantasies”? It’s obvious that all three of us writer types on here like this record and for generally the same reasons. So I could go on here and repeat Gary and Ryan’s points, but then I’d be cheapening the experience for you the reader. Something Metric hasn’t done with this album
Ryan’s right – this album should be handed out on day one of indie song writing school. Gary’s right – Emily Haines’ voice is such a distinctive element, it provides an identity that other bands work years to establish. For me what this album does so well, and consciously, is change it’s mood and create atmosphere and really paint vivid pictures of the themes.
Chord progressions within songs, echoes on snares, and vocal effects all synced together perfectly travel me to a time and place that I’ve only dreamt of – a fantasy land if you allow me to point out the obvious. These subtle, yet monumental, musical shifts within songs, and from song to song give the album a very distinctive atmosphere, which in turn creates worlds for the lyrics to tell the stories in. These are songs for a movie that hasn’t been made yet – the movie we all see ourselves in.
To top it off, there is something for everybody on this album. The band moves itself forward with progressive songwriting, and acknowledges music’s past with their radio hit “Gimme Sympathy”. As far as “cool kid” bands go, I think Metric has finally gotten over themselves in that aspect, or rather a certain clique of the press has gotten over them as the “cool kids’ and they are freer to be who they actually are as a band. Which for everyone is way better – because they are allowed to be better.
If you haven’t already, put this album on and let it run. Don’t sit and listen and ponder the meaning of it – that is not where this album will hit you. It will hit you while you are emptying your dishwasher or barbecuing with friends, or hanging out with your lover. Metric sounds like it matters to people, and it brings people together because it provides a comfortable back ground for good times to happen. Let it ride and enjoy it wherever you need a good song – this one is full of them.
Ryan’s right – this album should be handed out on day one of indie song writing school. Gary’s right – Emily Haines’ voice is such a distinctive element, it provides an identity that other bands work years to establish. For me what this album does so well, and consciously, is change it’s mood and create atmosphere and really paint vivid pictures of the themes.
Chord progressions within songs, echoes on snares, and vocal effects all synced together perfectly travel me to a time and place that I’ve only dreamt of – a fantasy land if you allow me to point out the obvious. These subtle, yet monumental, musical shifts within songs, and from song to song give the album a very distinctive atmosphere, which in turn creates worlds for the lyrics to tell the stories in. These are songs for a movie that hasn’t been made yet – the movie we all see ourselves in.
To top it off, there is something for everybody on this album. The band moves itself forward with progressive songwriting, and acknowledges music’s past with their radio hit “Gimme Sympathy”. As far as “cool kid” bands go, I think Metric has finally gotten over themselves in that aspect, or rather a certain clique of the press has gotten over them as the “cool kids’ and they are freer to be who they actually are as a band. Which for everyone is way better – because they are allowed to be better.
If you haven’t already, put this album on and let it run. Don’t sit and listen and ponder the meaning of it – that is not where this album will hit you. It will hit you while you are emptying your dishwasher or barbecuing with friends, or hanging out with your lover. Metric sounds like it matters to people, and it brings people together because it provides a comfortable back ground for good times to happen. Let it ride and enjoy it wherever you need a good song – this one is full of them.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Gary's Metric Review
I feel a little strange reviewing this album. Back in March Dave and I spent a full week praising this album and listening to it relentlessly. You can almost hear us bickering - "I like it more." "No, I like it more!"
But schoolgirl antics aside, we had every reason to praise this album. Of the 10 Polaris albums it might be the most lush, well thought-out and well produced of the bunch. With Fantasies we find Metric at their creative apex to date, producing some of their finest work musically and lyrically.
That said, there's nothing that "speaks to me" about this album. It doesn't move me, make me think or provoke any other emotional response - it's just a really great album that's enjoyable to listen to. It's fun, danceable indie-rock that has virtually no controversy surrounding it or insight to impart, which is fine. Not every album has to touch that intellectual place or save some 17 year-old from a "dark time," (that's what MySpace is for). It's enough to create fantastic music and be done with it.
But I feel obliged to pass along something to you - dear reader - so I'll forage for a few musical nuggets to review. Like the fact that from the opening lines of the album you get the sense that singer Emily Haines is willing to put it all out there, bearing her soul no matter what the consequences:
"I tremble...they're going to eat me alive,"
Haines has one of those distinctive, Stevie Nicks type voices that sets her apart from the other girl-band singers. You can hear it anywhere (like buried in Broken Social Scene song), and know exactly who's singing. But now you can say the same thing about her lyrics. There's a familiarity these days in her words which are all told from the first person and are pretty intimate to boot. She seems more inclined than on previous albums to talk about herself without any deep metaphors or hazy allegories. Although she does still love a good turn of phrase.
As I said it's clear the band has stepped up its game on this album to produce something special (musically at least). And like Ryan pointed out in his post, this is just the type of album that throws a band from indie-darling to Billboard Top 40 material and appearances on Regis and Kelly. Some bands can handle that exposure and still create poignant, artistic music while others fall all over themselves to churn out more crowd pleasing milquetoast (Coldplay, I'm looking at you).
A band I've been into for many years recently jumped into the same sort of spotlight and I'm finding it harder and harder to listen to them when they seem so common place now. That special feeling of being one of only a few fans to appreciate them evaporates and suddenly the music doesn't sound quite as sweet. And so it's a special band that can achieve mainstream popularity and still hold on to their original fans.
I'm desperately hoping Metric knows that magic formula because I think they're going to need it.
But schoolgirl antics aside, we had every reason to praise this album. Of the 10 Polaris albums it might be the most lush, well thought-out and well produced of the bunch. With Fantasies we find Metric at their creative apex to date, producing some of their finest work musically and lyrically.
That said, there's nothing that "speaks to me" about this album. It doesn't move me, make me think or provoke any other emotional response - it's just a really great album that's enjoyable to listen to. It's fun, danceable indie-rock that has virtually no controversy surrounding it or insight to impart, which is fine. Not every album has to touch that intellectual place or save some 17 year-old from a "dark time," (that's what MySpace is for). It's enough to create fantastic music and be done with it.
But I feel obliged to pass along something to you - dear reader - so I'll forage for a few musical nuggets to review. Like the fact that from the opening lines of the album you get the sense that singer Emily Haines is willing to put it all out there, bearing her soul no matter what the consequences:
"I tremble...they're going to eat me alive,"
Haines has one of those distinctive, Stevie Nicks type voices that sets her apart from the other girl-band singers. You can hear it anywhere (like buried in Broken Social Scene song), and know exactly who's singing. But now you can say the same thing about her lyrics. There's a familiarity these days in her words which are all told from the first person and are pretty intimate to boot. She seems more inclined than on previous albums to talk about herself without any deep metaphors or hazy allegories. Although she does still love a good turn of phrase.
As I said it's clear the band has stepped up its game on this album to produce something special (musically at least). And like Ryan pointed out in his post, this is just the type of album that throws a band from indie-darling to Billboard Top 40 material and appearances on Regis and Kelly. Some bands can handle that exposure and still create poignant, artistic music while others fall all over themselves to churn out more crowd pleasing milquetoast (Coldplay, I'm looking at you).
A band I've been into for many years recently jumped into the same sort of spotlight and I'm finding it harder and harder to listen to them when they seem so common place now. That special feeling of being one of only a few fans to appreciate them evaporates and suddenly the music doesn't sound quite as sweet. And so it's a special band that can achieve mainstream popularity and still hold on to their original fans.
I'm desperately hoping Metric knows that magic formula because I think they're going to need it.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Ryan's Metric Review
There are some albums that we've been looking at over the past weeks that took a while to grow on me; I didn't particularly care for them on first listen, but the more I listened to them the more I dug them. That wasn't the case with Metric's Fantasies – I liked it right from the first listen, and subsequent listens have only served to deepen that love. I hadn't been expecting that, because I hadn't really cared for the Metric album previous to this one, Live It Out, or for lead singer Emily Haines' solo work that followed it; this album, though, really stand out as above and beyond the band's previous work.
Fantasies is one of those albums that attempts to be a lot of different things to different people, but unlike a lot of albums that attempt to do that, this one actually accomplishes what it sets out to do. It is simultaneously a fun, poppy record you can dance to, a lyrically complex indie rock record, and a reflection on the costs of becoming famous (in a vein similar to a record like Nirvana's In Utero album). Despite those different directions that the album's going in, it never feels like it loses its way at all, and manages to layer those different versions of itself into one nice little musical lasagna.
I know it might sound like I'm over-selling this, but Fantasies manages to do all this so well that it should be handed out on the first day of indie rock songwriting school. I've heard so many albums over the years that have tried to do what this album does, and does it in a way that makes it seem effortless.
Take, for example, a song like “Gimme Sympathy” (if you've been near a rock radio station anywhere in the country this year, there's a good chance you're already familiar with this one). This song is a textbook example of how to integrate a philosophical argument into a pop song, placing it within an easily understood metaphor (by asking “Who would you rather be, the Beatles or the Rolling Stones?”) and then giving equal credence to both sides (Haines sings “play me something like Here Comes the Sun”, but the song's title could be seen as a mashup of Gimme Shelter and Sympathy for the Devil) and ultimately letting the listener decide for themselves, rather than trying to get didactic in the bridge. The song serves as a good reminder that you can be deep while still being danceable, something that a lot of indie rock artists would do well to remember.
This isn't just one of the best albums to come out this year; it's one that is most likely going to catapult Metric fully into the mainstream, and will probably be talked about by music fans for years to come.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Dave's Great Lake Swimmer Review
I’m gonna be brutally honest here. I could only listen to this album once through top to bottom. It’s not because it’s completely un-listenable, although it is challenging to listen to, it’s because it doesn’t want to be listened to again and again. It’s an album that is for writers of music, not listeners of music.
It’s slow and it plods along meandering around itself, paying attention to the nuances that only a songwriter or musician would notice. It’s good, for those in the know. The same way I love “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip”, or any other TV show about TV shows, I get it because that is what I do. I found if you don’t make music, you have a hard time getting this album.
That is another reason I couldn’t get through this album more than once – my job. This week, and sad to say next week, my career is all encompassing, 18 hours a day. When I’m done, I’m exhausted and my mind races; full of schedules and budget concerns, “Lost Channels” is not the album that helps me escape that. In fact it amplifies it, creating a paranoia in me, where I feel in adequate at my job, in my relationship, and in life in general. I don’t need that. This album does not attract me at this time.
When I was at a wedding this week Erik Arnesen was there, playing music for his friends (Bride and Groom), he played perfect banjo, his voice was pitch perfect, it was moving for everyone there. He’s a talented performer, he’s a gifted songwriter, and he knows the craft he’s chosen in life. But “Lost Channels” is just that – lost.
It’s slow and it plods along meandering around itself, paying attention to the nuances that only a songwriter or musician would notice. It’s good, for those in the know. The same way I love “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip”, or any other TV show about TV shows, I get it because that is what I do. I found if you don’t make music, you have a hard time getting this album.
That is another reason I couldn’t get through this album more than once – my job. This week, and sad to say next week, my career is all encompassing, 18 hours a day. When I’m done, I’m exhausted and my mind races; full of schedules and budget concerns, “Lost Channels” is not the album that helps me escape that. In fact it amplifies it, creating a paranoia in me, where I feel in adequate at my job, in my relationship, and in life in general. I don’t need that. This album does not attract me at this time.
When I was at a wedding this week Erik Arnesen was there, playing music for his friends (Bride and Groom), he played perfect banjo, his voice was pitch perfect, it was moving for everyone there. He’s a talented performer, he’s a gifted songwriter, and he knows the craft he’s chosen in life. But “Lost Channels” is just that – lost.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Ryan's Great Lake Swimmers review
Lost Channels by Great Lakes Swimmers is a contemplative, melodic, subtle album that features musical and lyrical complexity and a host of talented musicians (both the band members themselves and special guests who sit in a a few tracks). This is, on paper, exactly the kind of album that I should really dig. And yet, with the exception of a single song (Still), I can't say that I really enjoyed listening to it at all. It's just a boring album.
It feels a little shallow to say that. Music is entertainment but, at the same time, it's art, right? And when you're appreciating a piece of art, you're not “supposed” to judge it on the level of entertainment, but rather on how effectively the artist conveys their message through their art, and how technically proficient they are in the creation of the art, of the themes and symbolism found within it, and that sort of thing. It's considered unseemly, in some circles, to even talk about whether or not you enjoyed an album, because that's an inherently subjective and fundamentally biased aspect of the album.
And yet, here we are. The problem with not thinking about the entertainment value of an album is that, if there's no entertainment there, your audience isn't going to keep paying attention long enough to get to the deep, artistic elements of the album; they'll have given up on you long before then. That was my experience with Lost Channels: I'm sure that, given enough time and enough listens, I'd be able to find something that I appreciated about the album, but I don't think it's worth the effort it would take to get through the boredom.
It feels a little shallow to say that. Music is entertainment but, at the same time, it's art, right? And when you're appreciating a piece of art, you're not “supposed” to judge it on the level of entertainment, but rather on how effectively the artist conveys their message through their art, and how technically proficient they are in the creation of the art, of the themes and symbolism found within it, and that sort of thing. It's considered unseemly, in some circles, to even talk about whether or not you enjoyed an album, because that's an inherently subjective and fundamentally biased aspect of the album.
And yet, here we are. The problem with not thinking about the entertainment value of an album is that, if there's no entertainment there, your audience isn't going to keep paying attention long enough to get to the deep, artistic elements of the album; they'll have given up on you long before then. That was my experience with Lost Channels: I'm sure that, given enough time and enough listens, I'd be able to find something that I appreciated about the album, but I don't think it's worth the effort it would take to get through the boredom.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Gary's Great Lake Swimmer's Review
I had a look at the long list of Polaris prize nominees a while back and was a little disappointed that some of my favourite albums this year didn't make the shortlist. The Stills return to form, k-os' amazing album Yes, and others were all passed over for the ten we've been profiling here. I was prepared to give the selection team the benefit of the doubt and give these albums a chance. I came in with an open mind and allot each album its due diligence.
Then came the Great Lake Swimmers.
I had big expectations from this band having liked the few tracks I’d heard up until now. But I’m beginning to think they’re best enjoyed in minimal doses. The shorter your listening time the less likely you are to be lulled to sleep by the boring and repetitive nature of the music. Thus saving yourself from a potential accident while listening in your car or traveling on the subway.
You start to assume the words “fun” and “hope” don’t get tossed around at band practice a lot. And you might have called the music depressing if wasn’t so hollow and devoid of emotion. Truthfully there’s nothing terribly organic or soulful going on here – just the musical equivalent of colour-by-numbers: Chorus goes here; bridge goes there; graceful fade-out starts now.
To be perfectly honest, this sounds like a record made by robots whose attempt at human emotion and feeling have fallen woefully short. But where robots have their artifice to blame, I’m still struggling to figure out what GLS’s excuse is.
Every song seems to be the same middling tempo and recorded at the same maddening whisper like they were trying not to wake the baby in the room (which they probably want you to think is a remote cabin in the woods somewhere). There are nods to a few folk-crooners like Bon Iver and Ray Lamontagne, but only in the most cursory ways and never ever approximating the sense intimacy and awe from either.
Everyone assumes that middle of the road music sounds like everything else on the radio, giving it a safe and hassle-free sound. But the truth is middle of the road music is anything that doesn’t challenge you, make you think and elicits something other than apathy. Sonically, Lost Channels is Dramamine for the ears and like your old college lectures dares you to stay conscious. The song title "She comes to me in Dreams" becomes wildly appropriate considering the narcolepsy inducing music it rides in on.
I brought up the long list of Polaris Prize nominees because I strongly believe there were albums that were far more deserving than this one that never made it this far. In this process I haven’t loved every album but I’ve always given props to the selection committee for music I could at least tell was filled with heart and devotion. If there was anything resembling those emotions on Lost Channels I sure as shit didn’t find it.
Then came the Great Lake Swimmers.
I had big expectations from this band having liked the few tracks I’d heard up until now. But I’m beginning to think they’re best enjoyed in minimal doses. The shorter your listening time the less likely you are to be lulled to sleep by the boring and repetitive nature of the music. Thus saving yourself from a potential accident while listening in your car or traveling on the subway.
You start to assume the words “fun” and “hope” don’t get tossed around at band practice a lot. And you might have called the music depressing if wasn’t so hollow and devoid of emotion. Truthfully there’s nothing terribly organic or soulful going on here – just the musical equivalent of colour-by-numbers: Chorus goes here; bridge goes there; graceful fade-out starts now.
To be perfectly honest, this sounds like a record made by robots whose attempt at human emotion and feeling have fallen woefully short. But where robots have their artifice to blame, I’m still struggling to figure out what GLS’s excuse is.
Every song seems to be the same middling tempo and recorded at the same maddening whisper like they were trying not to wake the baby in the room (which they probably want you to think is a remote cabin in the woods somewhere). There are nods to a few folk-crooners like Bon Iver and Ray Lamontagne, but only in the most cursory ways and never ever approximating the sense intimacy and awe from either.
Everyone assumes that middle of the road music sounds like everything else on the radio, giving it a safe and hassle-free sound. But the truth is middle of the road music is anything that doesn’t challenge you, make you think and elicits something other than apathy. Sonically, Lost Channels is Dramamine for the ears and like your old college lectures dares you to stay conscious. The song title "She comes to me in Dreams" becomes wildly appropriate considering the narcolepsy inducing music it rides in on.
I brought up the long list of Polaris Prize nominees because I strongly believe there were albums that were far more deserving than this one that never made it this far. In this process I haven’t loved every album but I’ve always given props to the selection committee for music I could at least tell was filled with heart and devotion. If there was anything resembling those emotions on Lost Channels I sure as shit didn’t find it.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Album #8 - Great Lake Swimmers
Artist: Great Lake SwimmersAlbum: Lost Channels
From: Wainfleet/Toronto, On
Friday, August 28, 2009
Ryans Joel Plaskett Review
I, I, I really, really, really liked, liked, liked this, this, this album, album, album.
Sorry, I just had to get that out of my system.
Three, as the song says, is a magical number, and it's clear that Joel Plaskett agrees with that - after all, he's crafted an entire album here around the idea of the number three – three discs, with nine songs (or three sets of three) on each disc, for a total of twenty-seven (or three to the power of three) songs on the entire album. Additionally, the majority of the song titles on the album feature a single word repeated three times (such as Deny, Deny, Deny and Precious, Precious, Precious). There are also a bunch of references throughout the lyrics to the number three.
Three's a powerful number, too, in a lot of ways – look at enough material in areas as diverse as visual art, psychology, philosophy, literary theory, or linguistics and you see the number three pop up in all sorts of places. So it's definitely fair ground for Plaskett to explore in and album, although he does explore it more from the perspective of “let's use this to help me tell the story I want to tell here.”
And tell it he does. Over his last couple of albums, Plaskett has been building up a reputation for himself as one of Canada's leading songwriters, and this album is a perfect showcase of where that reputation's been coming from. Halifax has long been known as a focal point for accessible, fun indie pop-rock music, and Three definitely keeps that tradition alive. It's a traditional record in other ways as well, blending elements of folk and Maritime music in with the more rocking elements. It's done in an almost seamless manner, and you don't really think of it as a combination of different genres, but just as its own organic thing. The same is true for Plaskett's use of additional vocalists throughout the record – they're not voices you'd usually here on a Joel Plaskett record, but they sound like they completely belong there, and you get the feeling you'd really miss them if they weren't there.
Lyrically, the album is really strong as well. Songs of love and abandon are often best told through metaphor, and Plaskett shows a strong command of that throughout the album, admitting things like “I was the Berlin wall, and you were a wrecking ball in a summer dress.” It doesn't come across like it's trying to be Important, and states itself simply, but in doing so manages to really strike the listener.
If there's any limitations to the album, it's that Plaskett is a little too committed to his central motif. There's enough good tracks on Three to make an absolutely flawless double album, but to keep the theme of threes going, However, it feels like there's a couple of songs on there that would have been better as B-sides (like Pine, Pine, Pine and the epically long On, On, On). I can't help but notice that the songs I thought were extraneous also happened to be among the ones that followed the triple naming structure. But take those few songs out and you're got two discs of practically perfect pop-rock, and what's not to like about that?
Dave's Joel Plaskett Review
I really like this album because it doesn’t sound like Joel Plaskett should sound. It sound like Joel Plaskett wants to sound. Not that I’m a mind reader or anything and know what Joel Plaskett wants from his creative life (or life in general) but listening to this album is satisfying. Therefore I can also imagine the process of making was satisfying for Joel and everyone he included in the process.
“Three” is not my favourite Joel Plaskett album, but it is a good album. The concept, as far as I understand it, is everything in 3s. Song titles are often referred to in triplicate ( “Pine, Pine, Pine”, “Wait, Wait, Wait”) and choruses often repeat phrasing in triplicate. You have to admire an artist who sticks to the concept that they are working within. Jack White is a master of this. Joel Plaskett is learning to master this. His album’s concept is there on paper and I can imagine it works even better as a physical entity – you know with actual three discs broken out and divided and organized for listeners. But I don’t consume music like this anymore – I buy it digitally (and I am purchasing all these albums), therefore everything runs together and there seems to be no organization of it for me, except lyrically, or musically. Which begs the question, does the idea of concept album have to change based on delivery method in digital consumer era? I don’t think that is a debate for this space, but get in touch with your thoughts.
As for the songs on this record – they are great. They cover arcs of a bigger story, and all of them illustrate Joel’s evolution to the being crowned a “great Canadian Songwriter”. A place where he seemed destined to end up for fans that have been wooed by his magic arrangements before. What’s stands out for me personally on this album is that there are no crazy runaway hits like Joel would deliver before on albums. There is simply a consistent tone and vibe, Joel doesn’t rush us, his listener, to the point, he wants you to enjoy the journey, and he purposely crafts the album to make it worth the listen.
This album through and through feels Canadian. It has a twangy country vibe that we so proudly incorporate anywhere we can, he uses female collaborations to soften up storylines and add perspective – always nice touch. Of course he plugs in a turns up throughout the album. Listening and listening again, this record would be the first one I would throw on for a road trip to a rural town I’ve never heard of an most likely will never visit again.
As for the big Prize, I feel this one is the most accessible album we’ve run across so far, but if Joel’s going to win it, I think he has a better record in him that could take it.
“Three” is not my favourite Joel Plaskett album, but it is a good album. The concept, as far as I understand it, is everything in 3s. Song titles are often referred to in triplicate ( “Pine, Pine, Pine”, “Wait, Wait, Wait”) and choruses often repeat phrasing in triplicate. You have to admire an artist who sticks to the concept that they are working within. Jack White is a master of this. Joel Plaskett is learning to master this. His album’s concept is there on paper and I can imagine it works even better as a physical entity – you know with actual three discs broken out and divided and organized for listeners. But I don’t consume music like this anymore – I buy it digitally (and I am purchasing all these albums), therefore everything runs together and there seems to be no organization of it for me, except lyrically, or musically. Which begs the question, does the idea of concept album have to change based on delivery method in digital consumer era? I don’t think that is a debate for this space, but get in touch with your thoughts.
As for the songs on this record – they are great. They cover arcs of a bigger story, and all of them illustrate Joel’s evolution to the being crowned a “great Canadian Songwriter”. A place where he seemed destined to end up for fans that have been wooed by his magic arrangements before. What’s stands out for me personally on this album is that there are no crazy runaway hits like Joel would deliver before on albums. There is simply a consistent tone and vibe, Joel doesn’t rush us, his listener, to the point, he wants you to enjoy the journey, and he purposely crafts the album to make it worth the listen.
This album through and through feels Canadian. It has a twangy country vibe that we so proudly incorporate anywhere we can, he uses female collaborations to soften up storylines and add perspective – always nice touch. Of course he plugs in a turns up throughout the album. Listening and listening again, this record would be the first one I would throw on for a road trip to a rural town I’ve never heard of an most likely will never visit again.
As for the big Prize, I feel this one is the most accessible album we’ve run across so far, but if Joel’s going to win it, I think he has a better record in him that could take it.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Gary's Joel Plaskett Review
Concept albums are just about the riskiest thing a musician can attempt. The musical landscape is littered with failures from some of the biggest musical acts of all time who - like Icarus - have succumbed to their hubris and flown too high. This is followed closely by the second hardest feat in music: The multiple disc format (a double or triple album). To attempt both would be the sort of doublebarreled ego-stroke you would expect from the likes of Kiss or U2. But from a humble Nova Scotian by the name of Joel Plaskett? Hardly.
And yet, here we are discussing Three, his multi-disc narrative of leaving, feeling alone, and finally coming back. It is ambitious, clever and at times thought provoking but the material is rarely as epic as the undertaking itself.
First some background. I've been a big Plaskett fan dating back to Thrush Hermit, and his other two solo albums and of course his work as Joel Plaskett Emergency. I think he's one of the perennial Canadian song writers and deserves any and all recognition he gets. But if he was going to be acknowledged for a Polaris Prize it would have made a whole lot more sense to honour his last album - Ashtray Rock (an extremely well executed concept album).
Why? Because this album - while good - is not Plaskett at his best. Sure there are flashes of his story telling, the amazing way he can turn a phrase or his genre busting style. But the truth is, he suffers the same fate so many other musicians did before him trying to churn out multi-disc albums...he just runs out of steam.
The length also makes it a tough album to review...but that's what you're here to read, so I'll oblige. First off, there are no direct miss steps that I can point to. The songs are solid for the most part, save for a few that are either long winded or just not memorable. Songs like Through & Through & Through are good ol' Plaskett doing what he does best. Wishful Thinking is the drowsy blues you've heard before and On & On & On (noticing a theme?) is Canadian folk greatness (big shoutout to Ana Egge and Rose Cousins who feature prominently on Three). But that's only three songs off a 27 song album...yes, 27 songs.
The other sticking point for me is that as Plaskett has aged so has his music. In his aforementioned Thrush Hermit days it felt like the music was barely being held together, at any moment ready to fly apart. Thrush Hermit sounded like four guys trying to break a song - pushing it to it's very limits and forcing it to submit. Now the songs are tidy, rehearsed and fit together properly. Granted, this is to be expected as a musician matures and gains more control of his craft, but it feels like there's a sense of restraint and belts being tightened here. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of these stagnant fans who assumes his favourite bands will forever produce the music that made them famous, but there is something oddly discomforting watching them age in front of you.
This sounds like a bad review, and that's not altogether true. This is not a bad album by any stretch, but being familiar with his previous work I'm just not sold that his has the same relevance or impact as his last two offerings. Plaskett should definitely be commended for his efforts here. He's tried and nearly achieved what very few other rock luminaries would never attempt for fear of falling flat on their face. Plaskett never falls down, but he doesn't quite knock it out of the park either - more like a triple.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
Dave's K'Naan Review
From the first needle drop on the “Troubadour” it's clear what K’Naan's intentions are - infuse. So he does. He infuses his influences his heritage; his history and his dreams with catchy hip hop breaks and African arrangements. These elements enhance the messages K’Naan wanted to communicate; they help stories he tells on “Troubadour” to run deeper than the lyrics he spouts.
The lead Track “TIA”(for This is Africa) it sets the tone for “Troubadour”– one that crosses the preconceptions set up by cultural boundaries each of us bring to any form of art. Lyrically K’Naan has the skill and knowledge to sing about African politics and his homeland's penchant for Hip-Hop Heroism. On the flip side of that he is able to bring you in just as smoothly with his desire for love of a woman. For K’Naan this is all part of who he is and how he sees in his world.
Musically this record is pretty steady diet of worldwide influences (a la M.I.A) and it doesn’t feel forced, or added on like it might on another artist’s record (you know who you are). K’Naan has the production skill working with him to pull the experiments perfectly. The arrangements generally feel like party-esque tunes and I find myself happily repeating hooks all day along. The guest collaboration pairings with some of his ‘friends’ came from the bad wet dreams of record label boardrooms but overall they don't over shadow K’Naan himself. This is his record through and through. Lyrically the philosophical side of this album can sometimes feel bogged down in the amount of production some tracks have but re-listening to Troubadour proves a worthwhile venture. Satisfying if you will.
There seems to be two sides to K’Naan that are often at odds with each other on this record. On one side there is a proud African man who is full of talent, experience, and wisdom and this is his forum to educate.. The other is a boy who is realizing his dreams are coming true and he's enjoying the spoils of that success. No one can fault K’Naan for his indulgences into the excesses the music industry can offer a young talent. However I preferred the tracks where he revisits his roots and talks about where he comes from, and how he got here, and thankfully there is a plethora of those on here - buts that's the older fan in me. The 15 year old inside my soul (yeah I still got one) loved the party tracks – a lot.
Let's hope Polaris rewards K’Naan and he can keep the party (and lecture) going.
The lead Track “TIA”(for This is Africa) it sets the tone for “Troubadour”– one that crosses the preconceptions set up by cultural boundaries each of us bring to any form of art. Lyrically K’Naan has the skill and knowledge to sing about African politics and his homeland's penchant for Hip-Hop Heroism. On the flip side of that he is able to bring you in just as smoothly with his desire for love of a woman. For K’Naan this is all part of who he is and how he sees in his world.
Musically this record is pretty steady diet of worldwide influences (a la M.I.A) and it doesn’t feel forced, or added on like it might on another artist’s record (you know who you are). K’Naan has the production skill working with him to pull the experiments perfectly. The arrangements generally feel like party-esque tunes and I find myself happily repeating hooks all day along. The guest collaboration pairings with some of his ‘friends’ came from the bad wet dreams of record label boardrooms but overall they don't over shadow K’Naan himself. This is his record through and through. Lyrically the philosophical side of this album can sometimes feel bogged down in the amount of production some tracks have but re-listening to Troubadour proves a worthwhile venture. Satisfying if you will.
There seems to be two sides to K’Naan that are often at odds with each other on this record. On one side there is a proud African man who is full of talent, experience, and wisdom and this is his forum to educate.. The other is a boy who is realizing his dreams are coming true and he's enjoying the spoils of that success. No one can fault K’Naan for his indulgences into the excesses the music industry can offer a young talent. However I preferred the tracks where he revisits his roots and talks about where he comes from, and how he got here, and thankfully there is a plethora of those on here - buts that's the older fan in me. The 15 year old inside my soul (yeah I still got one) loved the party tracks – a lot.
Let's hope Polaris rewards K’Naan and he can keep the party (and lecture) going.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Gary's K'Naan Review
There's been a lot of talk about a certain Toronto rapper right now. He's wowed American audiences with his style, earned fans in Lil' Wayne, Kanye and the like and is climbing the charts as the "next" great hip hop artist. Everybody's talking about former Degrassi star Drake these days - and it's too bad, because they should be talking about K'Naan.
The sheer fact he doesn't hide his skills behind the played-out auto-tune effect (and then call it innovation) is reason enough to love K'naan - luckily there's more to the Somali born rapper. That's not to say he doesn't fall prey to other gimmicks (more on that later), but to paraphrase Jay-Z, at least he ain't T-Pain'in to much.
But let's talk about what he does right - which is pretty much everything. You want party anthems to get you moving, you can't do much better than lead track TIA (This Is Africa), which sets the tone for the rest of the album - that you're in for a slightly different hip hop experience.
K'Naan can also deftly straddle the divide between socially conscious rapping with a message and guilty-pleasure/bling and champagne style hip hop in a way that always seems slightly out of reach for someone like Kanye. That's not even a slight on Kanyeze, but a testament to how effortlessly K'Naan can take a weighty track like Somalia or America (featuring Mos Def), and still make it feel like a party.
But it's not enough for him to simply start the party and hope you learn something subconsciously. K'Naan also has the ability to write some pretty majectic, message-laden songs that are guaranteed to warm the heart of even the most cynical bastard. While Wavin' Flag and Take a Minute are big, call and answer type songs you'll feel obliged to sing along with. Yes, they sound like they could easily find a home in an episode of One Tree Hill bu they're such good songs you'll hardly care.
One thing I find really exciting about K'Naan is that he seems far more interested in putting out a sunnier disposition than his contemporaries. It's less about image and more about inspiring his listeners - he doesn't feel obliged to remind you how tough he is or how rough his life has been.
Remember earlier when I said he does fall prey to some gimmicks? Well, where the album trips all over itself is the clumsy inclusion of guest appearances - from Moron 5's (not a typo) Adam Levine and Metallica's Kirk Hammett - that devolve an otherwise rich and thought provoking album into a forgettable pop cliche. Both songs sound like they were cooked up by studio execs to sell albums and have virtually no natural feeling or spirit. And while these are the only two songs that don't fit (and stick out like a sore thumb), the rest of the album is so good that you'll feel even more let down.
This of course is just one of the problems K'Naan faces going forward. Because he's so talented and has set the bar so high, there's a fear that he'll fall harder and faster than most. But for now, he's right where he needs to be and extremely deserving of the Polaris Prize nod.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Ryan's K'naan Review
This was a tricky album for me to evaluate. The main focus of the album is K'naan's experiences growing up in Mogadishu, and in addition to talking about those experiences, he puts forth an attitude throughout the album that what we, as an audience, can't judge him or those experiences, because we haven't lived that kind of life. He has a bit of a point there - I'm willing to admit that most of the people listening to Troubadour, myself included, did not grow up in a Somali slum, or deal with the level of violence and strife that people living there have to put up with on a daily basis. Admitting that, though, creates a bit of a difficulty for the audience, because appreciating and evaluating any work of art requires a certain amount of judgement, and if we're not allowed to judge the main focus of the album, it kind of creates this awkward, empty feeling about large chunks of the album.
Despite that, though, there are some really good moments on this album. K'naan provides some insightful analysis of the Somali piracy issue (more than I've seen on most newscasts) on the track Somalia, rocks some smooth beats on Bang Bang, and proves that he knows how to craft a damn good love song on Fatima.
Moments like those on those songs, though, ultimately end up being kind of frustrating, though, because the rest of the album doesn't live up to them, and you know that K'naan is capable of. The album reaches a nadir on the bizarre track 15 Minutes Away, which I think was intended to be a parody of the commercialization of hip-hop, but instead ends up sounding like an ill-conceived jingle. I guess you could almost argue that it's a metaphor for the entire album, as well: a good idea, flawed in execution.
Despite that, though, there are some really good moments on this album. K'naan provides some insightful analysis of the Somali piracy issue (more than I've seen on most newscasts) on the track Somalia, rocks some smooth beats on Bang Bang, and proves that he knows how to craft a damn good love song on Fatima.
Moments like those on those songs, though, ultimately end up being kind of frustrating, though, because the rest of the album doesn't live up to them, and you know that K'naan is capable of. The album reaches a nadir on the bizarre track 15 Minutes Away, which I think was intended to be a parody of the commercialization of hip-hop, but instead ends up sounding like an ill-conceived jingle. I guess you could almost argue that it's a metaphor for the entire album, as well: a good idea, flawed in execution.
Artist #6 - K'naan
Artist: K'naan
Album: Troubadour
From: Toronto, ON
Album Released: February 24, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
Dave's Malajube Review
Sorry for the really late post on this – crazy week last week, and over the weekend a good friend was getting married.
I thought I would love this record way more than I actually do. I don't know what it is that is hanging me up exactly but there is something off about the whole experience I’m having whenever I listen to it. I want to like it, I feel like I’m not part of the club if I don’t like, but really indifference creeps up and I find myself wanting to turn it off or skip songs. Unlike my fellow contributors, this album does not restore my faith in anything – and it’s not a French language thing, I’m somewhat fluent and can get by on my loose translations. So let’s analyze my problems.
I know for one thing Gary loves this album and proclaim on his Twitter how he thought, “oh sorry know Malajube were winning the Polaris based on the first half of track 1”. Me I'm way more fucking indifferent to this sound but I agree if this was a political game (a la the Junos) Malajube makes sense as a winner. The music although 80% of the country won't be able to keep up with the lyrics; they appear non-threatening enough and the arrangements are accessible like a John Mayer record is accessible and non-threatening. One thing that does bug me is how highly polished the production on this album is. Most Quebecois albums are does anyone know why? Do they have better studios there or better microphones? For a band that others find jammy and improvised it seems that they really take their time make sure everything sounds just right and pristine, rather than a mistake or two slip through the cracks.
Maljube have made a nice sounding middle of the road record. And there's nothing wrong with that. But at the same time I was hoping my ears would lead the experience here and take me into a world I had yet to encounter I stead it feels like Montreal on a Thursday in February. I can’t distinguish why people (namely Ryan and Matt below) go gaga for this. All the praise they give it seems justified, they are smart, well read, well versed music men – but I just don’t agree with them on this one. Which makes it two weeks in a row I stand out in my opinion on this blog – which gets me thinking there is something wrong with me or my earphones. Nah, I just have an opinion and my own tastes, which aren’t always satisfied by Malajube.
I don’t want to seem like I’m crapping all over this record, it has great moments on it, good songs, and killer arrangements. Overall the experimentation feels forces and that is what takes away from the sentiment for me. Malajube could win this Polaris this, and I wouldn’t be disappointed one bit, I’d mention it to my dinner guest as the album came on during a lull in conversation at my next party. It’s that kind of album for me, the one you put on for “life’s background music”, and I was hoping it was going to be “soundtrack to a moment” music.
dave
I thought I would love this record way more than I actually do. I don't know what it is that is hanging me up exactly but there is something off about the whole experience I’m having whenever I listen to it. I want to like it, I feel like I’m not part of the club if I don’t like, but really indifference creeps up and I find myself wanting to turn it off or skip songs. Unlike my fellow contributors, this album does not restore my faith in anything – and it’s not a French language thing, I’m somewhat fluent and can get by on my loose translations. So let’s analyze my problems.
I know for one thing Gary loves this album and proclaim on his Twitter how he thought, “oh sorry know Malajube were winning the Polaris based on the first half of track 1”. Me I'm way more fucking indifferent to this sound but I agree if this was a political game (a la the Junos) Malajube makes sense as a winner. The music although 80% of the country won't be able to keep up with the lyrics; they appear non-threatening enough and the arrangements are accessible like a John Mayer record is accessible and non-threatening. One thing that does bug me is how highly polished the production on this album is. Most Quebecois albums are does anyone know why? Do they have better studios there or better microphones? For a band that others find jammy and improvised it seems that they really take their time make sure everything sounds just right and pristine, rather than a mistake or two slip through the cracks.
Maljube have made a nice sounding middle of the road record. And there's nothing wrong with that. But at the same time I was hoping my ears would lead the experience here and take me into a world I had yet to encounter I stead it feels like Montreal on a Thursday in February. I can’t distinguish why people (namely Ryan and Matt below) go gaga for this. All the praise they give it seems justified, they are smart, well read, well versed music men – but I just don’t agree with them on this one. Which makes it two weeks in a row I stand out in my opinion on this blog – which gets me thinking there is something wrong with me or my earphones. Nah, I just have an opinion and my own tastes, which aren’t always satisfied by Malajube.
I don’t want to seem like I’m crapping all over this record, it has great moments on it, good songs, and killer arrangements. Overall the experimentation feels forces and that is what takes away from the sentiment for me. Malajube could win this Polaris this, and I wouldn’t be disappointed one bit, I’d mention it to my dinner guest as the album came on during a lull in conversation at my next party. It’s that kind of album for me, the one you put on for “life’s background music”, and I was hoping it was going to be “soundtrack to a moment” music.
dave
Friday, August 14, 2009
Gary's Malajube Review
Who the hell is Malajube?
Midway through the opening track of their stunning third release Labyrinthes I found myself excitedly asking this very question. How could a band this majestic in sound have escaped me? Sun-soaked harmonies, enormous pop choruses and expert musicianship - surely I should know about this band.
The fact they sing entirely in French (with absolutely no desire to start singing in English) would be a huge reason why they’ve never shown up on my radar. Or have they?
After telling anyone who would listen last week how impressed I was with this band, one of my friends politely pointed out that he’d offered to take me to one of their shows last year. When I found out they sang entirely in French I dismissed them with a guffaw and sneered “no thank you.”
A year later - I'm a wiser man...maybe.
So yes, they sing in French but I’m conflicted, because telling you this will inevitably create a language barrier, and quite honestly the best way to appreciate them is with no preconceptions whatsoever. But I implore you to see past this and give them a fighting chance as you won’t be disappointed. There is virtually nothing lost in the translation (so to speak). All the emotion and raw intensity of unrequited love/loss/happiness/sadness comes through loud and clear, even though lead singer Julien Mineau could very well be singing about his groceries for all I know.
Malajube is a band of song crafters and musical auteurs, not content to throw chords against a wall and see what sticks (to be fair, I suppose that's true of the other nominees as well). They build weighty rock songs that swagger and grow to hair-raising crescendos like Ursuline but also create earnest, intimate offerings like Heresie in which Mineau croons about the short lives we all lead.
But for all of their prowess as artistes (oui, oui), what they do best is write absurdly infectious songs that you'll be singing long after hearing them - doubly impressive if you don't speak French. Stand out track Casablanca is right now in a dead heat for my song of the year (right up against Liztomania), and if you can get to the end of Luna without singing the refrain - I'll be amazed.
I posted in the last round of reviews that I didn't expect to like every band in the shortlist, but I certainly didn't expect to be so instantly moved by a band. I apologize now for the fact that this was less of a review and more of a fan letter, but between you and me, Labyrinthes is easily in my top five albums of the year. Based on what I've heard to this point, I could easily see a Polaris Prize win by Malajube and a completely warranted one at that. The competition is thick, but for the first time I've got a clear front runner.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Ryan's Malajube Review
Part of me feels a little uncomfortable with reviewing Malajube's Labyrinthes, and, I'm sad to admit, it's for the exact reason one might expect it to be: the album's in French, and my French ability is, at best, somewhat limited. Now, obviously, we live in a bilingual country, and there's no reason that I should expect that all of the Polaris nominees be in the language that I speak. If anything, it's a little surprising that there's only one album in French out of the ten that received the nominations (but the reasons connected to that might be beyond the scope of a review like this).
So, anyways, on to Labyrinthes. It's a fairly complex album, one that brings in a lot of different influences (everything from 60s French pop to 80s synth music to late 90s/new millennium rock), but it does so in a way that all really comes together nicely, and really feels like Malajube is a band that loves nothing more than justs getting together and jamming out until they get a song. Not all bands feel like that, and it's a very organic, holistic sort of texture that gets brought out in all of the instrumentation.
Lyrically, as I said, it was hard for me to get a feel for it, as I only have a grade nine level of French. This was kind of hard for me, because I'm usually a bit of a lyrics nut, and it's often the lyrics that determine for me whether or not I'm going to enjoy a song. That being said, despite the barrier, I still got a good feeling for the emotional content of the songs - lead singer Julien Mineau really does a good job of emoting (a skill that usually has a negative connotation, because it's often overdone, but here it's done just right).
It's been said that a defining quality of real art is that it has the power to affect change within its audience; that you're either not the same after having appreciated it, or at the very least it creates the desire within you to be different. It sounds cheesy to say it, but this album makes me wish I had a better understanding of French, so that I could better understand the art that our entire country creates. I think that says something about it.
So, anyways, on to Labyrinthes. It's a fairly complex album, one that brings in a lot of different influences (everything from 60s French pop to 80s synth music to late 90s/new millennium rock), but it does so in a way that all really comes together nicely, and really feels like Malajube is a band that loves nothing more than justs getting together and jamming out until they get a song. Not all bands feel like that, and it's a very organic, holistic sort of texture that gets brought out in all of the instrumentation.
Lyrically, as I said, it was hard for me to get a feel for it, as I only have a grade nine level of French. This was kind of hard for me, because I'm usually a bit of a lyrics nut, and it's often the lyrics that determine for me whether or not I'm going to enjoy a song. That being said, despite the barrier, I still got a good feeling for the emotional content of the songs - lead singer Julien Mineau really does a good job of emoting (a skill that usually has a negative connotation, because it's often overdone, but here it's done just right).
It's been said that a defining quality of real art is that it has the power to affect change within its audience; that you're either not the same after having appreciated it, or at the very least it creates the desire within you to be different. It sounds cheesy to say it, but this album makes me wish I had a better understanding of French, so that I could better understand the art that our entire country creates. I think that says something about it.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Ryan's Fucked Up Review
The Chemistry of Common Life, the second album release from Toronto band Fucked Up, is an incredibly decadent punk rock album – you can tell that from the flute intro in the first song. To a lot of punk fans, especially older ones, this must seem like a contradiction – after all, punk as a genre first became popular as a reaction against decadence in music. By going against that impression of what punk 'should be', though, you get the feeling that Fucked Up feels they're doing the most punk thing possible. What they have accomplished, though, is an album that doesn't quite know if it wasn't to be punk, or be a critical favourite.
That's not to say, of course, that punk can't be critically acclaimed, just that those two things typically value different things in an album. That, if anything, is the main failing of Chemistry of Common Life: it's unsure of what it wants to be, and as a result it never really commits itself to becoming the album that it could have been.
Now, don't get me wrong: there are some fun tunes on this album, like Son the Father and No Epiphany, which have a classic, 80s-style punk feel to them, especially in the vocals. Sadly, though, the good songs aren't quite enough to save the album from mediocrity. Some day, Fucked Up might be able to win a Polaris prize, but I can't see them doing it on the strength of this album. It's not the type of album I'll put on in the future, but if it turns up on a shuffled playlist, I won't be turning it off, either.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Dave's Fucked Up Review
I like my music loud, and heavy. Or rather, let me say I did like my music loud and heavy on a regular basis when I was younger. Now I like loud and heavy music every so often. So unlike Gary, I have a point of reference to appreciate Fucked Up’s “The Chemistry of Common Life” album. However I wouldn’t say that this record is necessarily a punk record or a metal record – as much as I would say it borrows characteristics normally associated with those genres and makes them prominent in this crazy infusion of expression and culture to make a modern music that really stands alone in it’s originality (oh look Dave’s getting all high brow on us with the “metal” record) – Damn fucking right I am – and don’t call it a metal record – what is this Vice magazine?
So ages ago Fucked Up were super hyped as this super cool band that was doing amazing things – now they are this moderately hyped band actually doing cool things with their music. “The Chemistry of Common Life” is a perfect example of how Fucked Up have matured and stayed – well fucked up. Where some people find it hard to listen to and “noisy” at times, I love how the band is able to stitch together eclectic sounds so perfectly. You can hear a grunge influence in bass lines, a punk sentiment in lyrics/vocals, the history of rock on drums and garage band fuzz in the layers of guitars. Where the fucked up part comes into play is where you hear a sprinkling of piano, a woodwind, or some kind of synthesizer.
There are a several stand out tracks on this album, ones that really define it – “Son the Father”, “Golden Seal”, and the title track “The Chemistry of Common Life” to mention a few. Each of them does something different – they experiment within themselves. This is where Fucked Up are so much better than their “hardcore” peers – they are willing to take the chance on doing something outside of the genre, outside of the expectations they put on themselves.
What really separates Fucked Up is the vocals though, if you added a traditional rock singer to this band it would sound dated and at times cheesy, with the deep growl of Damian Abraham it creates atmosphere (something all of the Polaris short listers do well) in abundance, and that atmosphere also solidifies the identity of Fucked Up as something more than a generic rock/punk/metal/hardcore band.
Where the “The Chemistry for Common Life” lacks is in its cohesion as an album from top to bottom. For me it’s a collection of good songs, well produced, well performed, but really nothing that binds them together except the people playing them. I guess that’s what really makes it Fucked Up.
deedle
So ages ago Fucked Up were super hyped as this super cool band that was doing amazing things – now they are this moderately hyped band actually doing cool things with their music. “The Chemistry of Common Life” is a perfect example of how Fucked Up have matured and stayed – well fucked up. Where some people find it hard to listen to and “noisy” at times, I love how the band is able to stitch together eclectic sounds so perfectly. You can hear a grunge influence in bass lines, a punk sentiment in lyrics/vocals, the history of rock on drums and garage band fuzz in the layers of guitars. Where the fucked up part comes into play is where you hear a sprinkling of piano, a woodwind, or some kind of synthesizer.
There are a several stand out tracks on this album, ones that really define it – “Son the Father”, “Golden Seal”, and the title track “The Chemistry of Common Life” to mention a few. Each of them does something different – they experiment within themselves. This is where Fucked Up are so much better than their “hardcore” peers – they are willing to take the chance on doing something outside of the genre, outside of the expectations they put on themselves.
What really separates Fucked Up is the vocals though, if you added a traditional rock singer to this band it would sound dated and at times cheesy, with the deep growl of Damian Abraham it creates atmosphere (something all of the Polaris short listers do well) in abundance, and that atmosphere also solidifies the identity of Fucked Up as something more than a generic rock/punk/metal/hardcore band.
Where the “The Chemistry for Common Life” lacks is in its cohesion as an album from top to bottom. For me it’s a collection of good songs, well produced, well performed, but really nothing that binds them together except the people playing them. I guess that’s what really makes it Fucked Up.
deedle
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Gary's Fucked Up Review
Folks, I’m gonna be straight with you – I don’t get it.
I’ve listened to this album a few times; I’ve tried to find a level of appreciation – tried to dig a little deeper to find something I liked. But frankly it’s just not there.
Fucked Up is hardcore punk outfit with a decidedly un-punk methodology. Where all the punk I grew up with was trimmed down, short bursts of rage usually from no more than 3 or 4 players – Fucked Up is 6 people strong and all about the 6 and 7 minute musical opus. This is all contrary to my notion of punk-rock, but frankly I’m a crotchety old man with an early bedtime and the loudest thing I listen to is
And that’s sort of what’s vexing me about this. I have no barometer to measure this music against others of its kind. I have zero familiarity with the genre and so can’t tell if Fucked Up is good, bad or other. Their nomination for this prize should indicate that they’re a worthy act and not the same rage-rock I’ve heard emanating out of every church basement and rec centre in the suburbs. Also the appearance of organs, flutes and lush vocal harmonies should at least indicate they’re not you’re average punk band.
What I can comment on is the production, which in my opinion is bad…bordering on terrible. Someone robbed the album of any nuance by ensuring that every instrument and vocal track was mixed to the same level - thus producing a muddy mixture of noise and static and effectively killing a lot of the dynamics in the album.
I’ve heard more than once that Fucked Up is a really great live act, and I’m assuming their enthusiasm is far better represented in public and so I’ll defer to their legend as a band you must see to truly appreciate.
I went into this assuming I wouldn’t love every album presented to me, and out of the 12 there was bound to be more than one. But I think it’s worth saying that I didn’t dislike this album on its merits, or even dislike it at all for that matter. It just didn’t move me, and that’s no fault of Fucked Up. That lies squarely with me and my f’d up brain.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Dave's Chad VanGaalen Review
This album is a journey (all albums are a journey idiot) but this album feels as if it’s taking you somewhere special. Like Alice chasing the rabbit into the hole, listeners are enticed to follow Chad VanGaalen into the album song by song – and with each dity the journey becomes a little more bizarre and a lot more satisfying.
It’s obvious each song plays its role perfectly contributing to the larger meaning and themes of the album. That theme, by the way is death. But not the kind of death that makes us uncomfortable, but the kind of death that makes us seeks answers within ourselves to the life beyond and our experience in this time. Which is why when listening to “Soft Airplane” you’ll find yourself drifting off into the imagery created by Chad’s lyrics (“I can hear the cries of the dead/Maybe its your Neighbor/Beating his dog in the basement”) to suddenly be snapped back by the unique textures created by non-traditional instruments and arrangements.
That juxtaposition is the key to this album’s ability to act as escapism into Chad VanGaalen’s world. It’s an adventure of the undiscovered. While exploring the infinite and unanswerable questions of death there seems to be a childlike innocence in VanGaalen’s method. It feel like he’s experimenting in the recording process rather than meticulously arranging in the writing process - but it works, simply because he’s trying it. Like when a small child finger-paints, or uses Play-Doh, it becomes instantly endearing because of the method. That is where the charm of “Soft Airplane” lies.
Chad VanGaalen has delivered a great record, as one of my fellow reviewers pointed out, there isn’t a bad song on “Soft Airplane”, however unlike Ryan, I feel the album has more cohesion and unity to it. Intentional or not is irrelevant, because for me, it’s part of the entire package, it’s the journey of “Soft Airplane” as a work of commercial art.
The one thing that Chad VanGaalen’s “Soft Airplane” has working against it, is that upon listening to the album several times, the novelty of these songs almost becomes predictable. For the listener it’s like a drug – they keep listening hoping to find that same magic they heard the first 5 or 7 listens – but it’s not going to happen, it’s never as good as the first time. “Soft Airplane” is the kind of album that is best is small doses, it reminds you how special it really can be that way.
There is no doubt that Chad VanGaalen’s career will be a wonder to watch in the coming years. His sheer talent will take his art places that will (hopefully) satisfy him, and along the way, he’ll have people follow him on the journey – just like Alice and followed the rabbit down the hole.
It’s obvious each song plays its role perfectly contributing to the larger meaning and themes of the album. That theme, by the way is death. But not the kind of death that makes us uncomfortable, but the kind of death that makes us seeks answers within ourselves to the life beyond and our experience in this time. Which is why when listening to “Soft Airplane” you’ll find yourself drifting off into the imagery created by Chad’s lyrics (“I can hear the cries of the dead/Maybe its your Neighbor/Beating his dog in the basement”) to suddenly be snapped back by the unique textures created by non-traditional instruments and arrangements.
That juxtaposition is the key to this album’s ability to act as escapism into Chad VanGaalen’s world. It’s an adventure of the undiscovered. While exploring the infinite and unanswerable questions of death there seems to be a childlike innocence in VanGaalen’s method. It feel like he’s experimenting in the recording process rather than meticulously arranging in the writing process - but it works, simply because he’s trying it. Like when a small child finger-paints, or uses Play-Doh, it becomes instantly endearing because of the method. That is where the charm of “Soft Airplane” lies.
Chad VanGaalen has delivered a great record, as one of my fellow reviewers pointed out, there isn’t a bad song on “Soft Airplane”, however unlike Ryan, I feel the album has more cohesion and unity to it. Intentional or not is irrelevant, because for me, it’s part of the entire package, it’s the journey of “Soft Airplane” as a work of commercial art.
The one thing that Chad VanGaalen’s “Soft Airplane” has working against it, is that upon listening to the album several times, the novelty of these songs almost becomes predictable. For the listener it’s like a drug – they keep listening hoping to find that same magic they heard the first 5 or 7 listens – but it’s not going to happen, it’s never as good as the first time. “Soft Airplane” is the kind of album that is best is small doses, it reminds you how special it really can be that way.
There is no doubt that Chad VanGaalen’s career will be a wonder to watch in the coming years. His sheer talent will take his art places that will (hopefully) satisfy him, and along the way, he’ll have people follow him on the journey – just like Alice and followed the rabbit down the hole.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Gary's Chad VanGaalen Review
Ladies and gentlemen - lay back, relax and allow Chad VanGaalen to take you on a trip. Or, perhaps more aptly put, a journey through time and space. A musical journey that's both beautiful and melancholic, stretching back through time. You'll hear the familiar madness of 60s style psychedelia then rocket forward and experience the futuristic sounds and blissed out space-pop the Calgary native can so delicately create.
Soft Airplane, VanGaalen's third full length release, is a near expertly-crafted album that pulls from all over the musical spectrum. From the onset I was instantly imagining VanGaalen as the perfect mash-up between Bon Iver and Sufjan Stevens (many an indie fan's wet dream). But before you can tag him with a label, he's changed it up. The sheer fact he can pull off these varied sounds and influences is an achievement in itself, but the really impressive part is the way he deftly switches gears and never misses a step. At any point this album could have devolved into a messy, hodge-podge of VanGaalen's musical crushes. But somehow he makes the experience cohesive and unified, like a story unfurling before you. And as the attentive listener you try your best to anticipate what comes next, but chances are he'll leave you guessing. A hundred little nuances are peppered through the album from oboes to xylophones to harmonicas and you'll be pleasantly surprised by them all.
I mentioned the journey would be melancholic and it is. Death and hardship crop up all over the album and you wonder if perhaps VanGaalen is carrying more than a few ghosts around with him. He's more than happy to bear his soul to you and at times the music feels so small and intimate you're sure he's telling you a secret. Then suddenly the next song is so distant and soaked in reverb it's as if he's broadcasting from some lonely, distant planet - that perhaps we're hearing the haunting echo of a musician who dissolved along with the stars.
It's so apt that the album - and your journey - should come to a close with the sounds of a train disappearing into the distance (Rabid Bits of Time). The destination was never the point on this trip, but all the stops along the way. And yes - technically there is one more track that truly closes out the album. The skull-shaking noise rock of Frozen Energon is an indulgent little extra like the cherry to a sundae that instantly brings to mind The Velvet Underground.
I hope you enjoyed your trip.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Ryan's Chad VanGaalen review
A comparison I've often heard is that great albums are like great novels – they tell a cohesive story with recurring thematic elements and motifs, and have one overall message that the artist is trying to communicate. No doubt this is often true, but what a lot of music fans tend to overlook is that it's not exclusively true, there are some great albums that are more like short story collections, where a bunch of very different songs are put together with no connection other than the artist creating them. The Beatles' white album and REM's Out of Time are great examples of the latter, and Chad VanGaalen's Soft Airplane is another good example.
As with any short story collection, you really have to consider each song on its individual merits. This can be both a blessing and a curse – if the songs are good, it makes the whole thing seem that much better, but it's harder to justify bad songs than it would be with a more concept-type album. Luckily, with this one, there aren't really any bad songs on here; they range from excellent (Bare Feet on Wet Griptape, City of Electric Light) to at its worst only fairly good (Frozen Energon, Phantom Anthills). Even those “weaker” songs on the album can only be described as such in relation to the other songs on the album – compared to most songs that appear on most albums released, they're still fairly strong tunes.
If I had one quibble with the album, it's that VanGaalen tends to wear his influences on his sleeve – most of the songs tended to remind me of songs by other artists, but done in a way that is evocative, rather than derivative. There's quite a range of those influences, as well; I heard strains of everything from Dylan, to Gord Downie's solo work, to Nine Inch Nails, to Edwyn Collins' modern classic Girl Like You. VanGaalen's clearly someone with a great love of music, and it shows throughout the album.
Chad VanGaalen's eventually going to build up a huge, 'mainstream success' name for himself, at some point in the future if not with this album. Maybe it'll come after appearing on the soundtrack of a popular indie film, a la Kimya Dawson on Juno, so you might as well check him out now, so you can tell your friends that you've been listening to him for years. The fact that you'll get to listen to some great tunes at the same time doesn't hurt at all, either.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Dave's Elliott Brood Review
Mountain Meadows. The words conjure up images of green pastures littered with wild flowers bathed in sunlight and white rabbits hop through the grass blissfully. Listening to Mountain Meadows the Polaris Prize short listed album from Elliott Brood it’s obvious that in their version of Mountain Meadows those lush hill tops have been clouded over with a violent storm – refreshing and welcome by it’s sheer presence but dark and volatile by nature.
Elliott Brood will one day win a Polaris Prize, but I feel this year is not their year. This year they are the band that is too strong to ignore; with an album that is consistently good from top to bottom. Thematically it’s strong, and production (maybe it’s strongest area) is magical at points, the album has moments where your mind will escape into it, but I found myself always losing a connection at some point for some reason.
Where Elliot Brood succeeds is not allowing their music and songwriting to have limits. Any band that banjo picks usually succumb to the “bluegrass” label instantly, but not Elliot Brood. You hesitate to label them a bluegrass band or a country band or even a rock band, when you hear this album it’s just good music – and good music is limitless.
Elliott Brood will one day win a Polaris Prize, but I feel this year is not their year. This year they are the band that is too strong to ignore; with an album that is consistently good from top to bottom. Thematically it’s strong, and production (maybe it’s strongest area) is magical at points, the album has moments where your mind will escape into it, but I found myself always losing a connection at some point for some reason.
Where Elliot Brood succeeds is not allowing their music and songwriting to have limits. Any band that banjo picks usually succumb to the “bluegrass” label instantly, but not Elliot Brood. You hesitate to label them a bluegrass band or a country band or even a rock band, when you hear this album it’s just good music – and good music is limitless.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Ryan's Elliott Brood Review
Before jumping into this week's review, I need to make a confession: I am not, generally speaking, a fan of country music. There are a few artists working in the genre that I can appreciate, primarily on the bluegrass side of things, but for the most part it's just not my preference. So, as all the prior knowledge I had of Elliott Brood's Mountain Meadows was that it's a country album, I was a little hesitant to give it a listen. What I ended up finding, though, were a couple of things that surprised me about the album.
What I really wasn't expecting was how much this album would remind me of a punk album. I first got that feeling listening to Brood's raspy singingg voice, which at times reminded me of Tim Armstrong or The Distillers' Brody Dalle. The more I thought about it, though, the deeper that connection became; you've got an album driven by energetic, fast-paced guitar rhythms, relatively simple-sounding chord progressions, and an independent, DYI attitude. True, it's completely devoid of any of the outward trappings and cultural detritus usually associated with punk music, but the heart of it is the same.
Another enjoyable surprise while listening to this album was how much capital-F Fun it is to listen to. It's a rhythmic, melodious album, and there were a few times that I caught myself tapping my feet along to the beat, especially on tracks like 'Write It All Down For You' and 'Chuckwagon'. When evaluating an album, people usually try to think about more serious concerns than that, but it's an important consideration to keep in mind.
Now, while I did enjoy those elements of the disc, Mountain Meadows is far from a perfect album. There's not a lot of variety from song to song, and as a result they tend to muddle together. Some might say that that's further evidence of the punk influences on the album, but nevertheless I think that it's a mark against the album. There's also nothing really profound about the lyrics found throughout it; again, they're fun enough, but on the whole there wasn't anything there that I found particularly remarkable. On the whole, I'd have to say that sums up my overall feeling about the album - while it's pleasantly surprising at times, and fun to listen to, it doesn't stick with you the way a great album should.
What I really wasn't expecting was how much this album would remind me of a punk album. I first got that feeling listening to Brood's raspy singingg voice, which at times reminded me of Tim Armstrong or The Distillers' Brody Dalle. The more I thought about it, though, the deeper that connection became; you've got an album driven by energetic, fast-paced guitar rhythms, relatively simple-sounding chord progressions, and an independent, DYI attitude. True, it's completely devoid of any of the outward trappings and cultural detritus usually associated with punk music, but the heart of it is the same.
Another enjoyable surprise while listening to this album was how much capital-F Fun it is to listen to. It's a rhythmic, melodious album, and there were a few times that I caught myself tapping my feet along to the beat, especially on tracks like 'Write It All Down For You' and 'Chuckwagon'. When evaluating an album, people usually try to think about more serious concerns than that, but it's an important consideration to keep in mind.
Now, while I did enjoy those elements of the disc, Mountain Meadows is far from a perfect album. There's not a lot of variety from song to song, and as a result they tend to muddle together. Some might say that that's further evidence of the punk influences on the album, but nevertheless I think that it's a mark against the album. There's also nothing really profound about the lyrics found throughout it; again, they're fun enough, but on the whole there wasn't anything there that I found particularly remarkable. On the whole, I'd have to say that sums up my overall feeling about the album - while it's pleasantly surprising at times, and fun to listen to, it doesn't stick with you the way a great album should.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Gary's Elliott Brood Review
Elliott Brood strikes me as a band that would be right at home in an episode of the HBO show Deadwood. If nothing else, they'd at least supply a capable soundtrack. All the touch-points are there - country-punk sensibility with a sprinkling of rockabilly. The sing-songy campfire ditties and crooning ballads. With almost no familiarity of the band other than these 13 songs, I have no trouble picturing them on stage in a saloon while men play poker and hookers saunter from table to table. Where some bands strive for that polished sound and smooth harmonies (Bedouin Soundclash, I'm looking at you), Elliott Brood is all sharp edges and weather-beaten roughness - the songs strewn about the record like the windblown prairies they evoke.
It's clear that the ghost of Tom Waits (were he dead) hovers throughout this album, pulling strings like a demented puppet-master, but Elliott Brood can never quite match him for sheer lunacy and darkness. Instead they're happy to live on the sunnier side of things with bright sounding acoustic guitars, banjo's and lots of marching snare drum.
Kicking off with the steam-train rumble of Fingers and Tongues, the album pulls you right through the dust-bowl, powering westward in search of something more. By the third track you're keenly aware they have little time for subtlety and refinement, opting instead for blunt force trauma with the infectious Write it All Down For You. This is Elliott Brood at their best, making an acoustic guitar and ukulele sound as powerful as any Marshal stack turned to eleven. Unfortunately this is quickly followed by the rather generic Without Again - which isn't a bad song, but pushed up next to Write it All Down For You comes across as weak and ineffective.
The rest of the album is similar in vein - one bold step forward is usually followed by a sideways one. None of these songs are bad, but they didn't exactly leave me breathlessly begging for more. I'd mentioned earlier that the songs were strewn around the album, and it wasn't just flowery prose. One of the reasons Mountain Meadows doesn't quite click for me is that the album doesn't feel cohesive. At times it feels more like an out-of-control car hurtling towards a horizon that never seems to come.
Elliott Brood have definitely earned their ranks among the Polaris Prize nominees with a good album. There are tracks that hint at brilliance (like the moody and atmospheric 31 Years), and some that are just sort of middle of the road (The Valley Town) and things that sounded downright familiar (Garden River sure felt a lot like Social Distortion doing Ring of Fire). But even if that's not your cup of tea (or sasparilla) at least they'll make you feel a little lawless for 45 minutes, and that's never a bad thing.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Aaron's Hey Rosetta! Review
The folks at the Canadian Heritage Ad-Campaign Committee would have you believe that Newfoundland is a place where its inhabitants (Newfies) hang out with the ranks of peculiar Italian inventors in their spare time and develop wireless technology (you know, because they have so much time on their hands out there in Eastern nowhere). What really happens there (according to stereotypes and strict hearsay) is this commune of cod-kissing friendlies — seafaring folk who'll invite you into their small hobbit-like homes and teach you a thing or two about a 'ting or tree'. It's a province where concepts of Screech is not one found on Saved By The Bell, but consumed; where families stay up all night with mandolins and get drunk and then call themselves, Great Big Sea. It's a place devoid of all seriousness, one without order, occupations or the strains of moody indie-rock... Well, nearly all of that is true.
Hey Rosetta! a six-piece out of St. John's, NFLD are making it difficult for those eager to file them under the 'celtic-folk/rock' cliche by offering something strangely different than their postal code suggests. And although the tiny populous of their home town would usually have Tim Baker (vocals/guitar/piano) and camp following suit and producing 'ditties' - lest we forget that Eastern Canada has a rich history when it comes to all things 'indie-rock' and is probably due for a heritage commercial itself.
Haligonians, Sloan began their career as My Bloody Valentine enthusiasts and were shoegazers long before they found the Beatles; Moncton's basement dwellers, Eric's Trip were more lo-fi than Steve Malkmus's armpit hair, yet Seattle still came calling; and then there's fellow Newfoundlanders Hardship Post who created enough angsty rock that they ditched their stay at the shire and moved to Halifax to gain more attention during the Pop Explosion era. So it shouldn't come as a shock that a band like HR! should not only exist in the East Coast, but should make the Polaris shortlist for their album, Into Your Lungs (and around your heart and on through your blood).
The album creeps and meanders to life much like A Ghost is Born did for Wilco - slow and calculated with the isolated singer introducing his tale. The difference here is that instead of a listless Jeff Tweedy warning us about the affects of spousal abuse, we have singer, Baker, slightly more alert, setting up what sounds like a plan for escape: "it's time to go/what's to come only fate can show/see her move like a toreador/wielding her cloak and sword." That's not to say that HR! resembles or sounds like Wilco, but they do tread similar enigmatic waters and rootsy origins, and take severe musical turns when necessary. "New Goodbye" introduces the blueprint for Into Your Lungs, which thematically runs the gamut as far as "life experiences" are concerned, but instead of sounding preachy or philosophical about the band's current or past revelations, Baker seems to project a celebratory reaction to all that comes before him, "but often it happens you know, that things you don't trust are the ones you need most," croons Baker on the album's finale, "Psalm."
HR! mostly succeeds with their strong musical interplay and ability to shift dynamics within a song without making it seem too mathy. Lungs teeters between emotionally charged rockers like the Veils-esque, "I've Been Asleep for a Long, Long Time," to sorrowful weepers like "Open Arms" which would not sound out of place on a Win Butler solo record. (And no, it's not a Journey cover). Elsewhere we have the back-to-back offering of "Black Heart" and "Red Heart" with the latter being the standout between the two and the wistful piano ballad, "Tired Eyes" are just some of the gems that can be heard on the hour-long disc. Oh, and they don't totally alienate their brethren as there's enough fiddles and whatnot to keep them safe on Grandma's Christmas list.
If there's any one complaint it would have to be the amount of music to sift through because we all know our new shuffle-society seems to struggle with anything of grand proportions these days. There's a lot to digest here, but the good part about decent music is that it eventually finds the right hands/ears, gets heard, and thankfully the right people were listening.
Hey Rosetta! a six-piece out of St. John's, NFLD are making it difficult for those eager to file them under the 'celtic-folk/rock' cliche by offering something strangely different than their postal code suggests. And although the tiny populous of their home town would usually have Tim Baker (vocals/guitar/piano) and camp following suit and producing 'ditties' - lest we forget that Eastern Canada has a rich history when it comes to all things 'indie-rock' and is probably due for a heritage commercial itself.
Haligonians, Sloan began their career as My Bloody Valentine enthusiasts and were shoegazers long before they found the Beatles; Moncton's basement dwellers, Eric's Trip were more lo-fi than Steve Malkmus's armpit hair, yet Seattle still came calling; and then there's fellow Newfoundlanders Hardship Post who created enough angsty rock that they ditched their stay at the shire and moved to Halifax to gain more attention during the Pop Explosion era. So it shouldn't come as a shock that a band like HR! should not only exist in the East Coast, but should make the Polaris shortlist for their album, Into Your Lungs (and around your heart and on through your blood).
The album creeps and meanders to life much like A Ghost is Born did for Wilco - slow and calculated with the isolated singer introducing his tale. The difference here is that instead of a listless Jeff Tweedy warning us about the affects of spousal abuse, we have singer, Baker, slightly more alert, setting up what sounds like a plan for escape: "it's time to go/what's to come only fate can show/see her move like a toreador/wielding her cloak and sword." That's not to say that HR! resembles or sounds like Wilco, but they do tread similar enigmatic waters and rootsy origins, and take severe musical turns when necessary. "New Goodbye" introduces the blueprint for Into Your Lungs, which thematically runs the gamut as far as "life experiences" are concerned, but instead of sounding preachy or philosophical about the band's current or past revelations, Baker seems to project a celebratory reaction to all that comes before him, "but often it happens you know, that things you don't trust are the ones you need most," croons Baker on the album's finale, "Psalm."
HR! mostly succeeds with their strong musical interplay and ability to shift dynamics within a song without making it seem too mathy. Lungs teeters between emotionally charged rockers like the Veils-esque, "I've Been Asleep for a Long, Long Time," to sorrowful weepers like "Open Arms" which would not sound out of place on a Win Butler solo record. (And no, it's not a Journey cover). Elsewhere we have the back-to-back offering of "Black Heart" and "Red Heart" with the latter being the standout between the two and the wistful piano ballad, "Tired Eyes" are just some of the gems that can be heard on the hour-long disc. Oh, and they don't totally alienate their brethren as there's enough fiddles and whatnot to keep them safe on Grandma's Christmas list.
If there's any one complaint it would have to be the amount of music to sift through because we all know our new shuffle-society seems to struggle with anything of grand proportions these days. There's a lot to digest here, but the good part about decent music is that it eventually finds the right hands/ears, gets heard, and thankfully the right people were listening.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Ryan's Hey Rosetta Review
I'll have to admit that it took me awhile to warm to this album. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with it on a technical level; it's clear from the first listen that this was a polished, professionally put together album, but it left me feeling cold when I first heard it. If anything, I think that it seemed somehow inauthentic; the songs I was hearing were songs of experience, and lead singer Tim Baker sounded too young and too innocent to be singing them.
After a few more listens, though, I had an epiphany: this is not an album about being experienced, even if a song like 'I've Been Asleep for a Long Long Time' might suggest that it is. Rather, it's actually an album about feeling like you've got things figured out, but then going out into the world and realizing how little you actually know, and then using that information to build a more realistic view of the world. That's a very subtle difference, and it's a mark of the band's songwriting ability that they're able to work so much into the album's themes.
If you listen to the album from front to back, you can hear a pattern start to develop throughout tit; the first couple of tracks are upbeat and slightly pop-ish, and then the album gets quieter for a bit, before coming back stronger and more assured of itself by the end. The fact that the same pattern reproduces itself on the level of individual songs, especially in 'Tired Eyes' and 'Holy Shit', leaves the listener with the impression that this is no accident, but rather something done intentionally, and it's something that resonates with that thematic experience. Overall, one gets the impression that Hey Rosetta wasn't the same band at the end of the album as they were when it began.
Lyrically, Into Your Lungs is a very strong album, but again, it is such in a very subtle way. There's aren't many individual lyrics that you can point at and say “That's a great song lyric” to show how forceful they are (with the possible exception of one line from 'A Thousand Suns' - “May every breath you breathe be built around sacred things”). Rather, it's one where Baker creates these introspective lyrical landscapes. By themselves, they would sound somewhat overly romantic, but the rest of the band fills the songs out, providing a more somatic balance to the lyrics. There are plenty of great hooks and riffs throughout the album, but they're all there in a way that serves the lyrical content, rather than trying to overpower it. That balance reminded me of Counting Crows' early material, although it also fits in quite well with a lot of the greats of the Canadian indie scene, like Sloan or the Weakerthans.
If anything, the subtlety that the album displays might hurt it with some audiences, as a casual listen won't necessarily bring out all the textures of the band's sound. Put on some headphones, though, find some time to listen to the whole album beginning to end, and you won't be disappointed.
After a few more listens, though, I had an epiphany: this is not an album about being experienced, even if a song like 'I've Been Asleep for a Long Long Time' might suggest that it is. Rather, it's actually an album about feeling like you've got things figured out, but then going out into the world and realizing how little you actually know, and then using that information to build a more realistic view of the world. That's a very subtle difference, and it's a mark of the band's songwriting ability that they're able to work so much into the album's themes.
If you listen to the album from front to back, you can hear a pattern start to develop throughout tit; the first couple of tracks are upbeat and slightly pop-ish, and then the album gets quieter for a bit, before coming back stronger and more assured of itself by the end. The fact that the same pattern reproduces itself on the level of individual songs, especially in 'Tired Eyes' and 'Holy Shit', leaves the listener with the impression that this is no accident, but rather something done intentionally, and it's something that resonates with that thematic experience. Overall, one gets the impression that Hey Rosetta wasn't the same band at the end of the album as they were when it began.
Lyrically, Into Your Lungs is a very strong album, but again, it is such in a very subtle way. There's aren't many individual lyrics that you can point at and say “That's a great song lyric” to show how forceful they are (with the possible exception of one line from 'A Thousand Suns' - “May every breath you breathe be built around sacred things”). Rather, it's one where Baker creates these introspective lyrical landscapes. By themselves, they would sound somewhat overly romantic, but the rest of the band fills the songs out, providing a more somatic balance to the lyrics. There are plenty of great hooks and riffs throughout the album, but they're all there in a way that serves the lyrical content, rather than trying to overpower it. That balance reminded me of Counting Crows' early material, although it also fits in quite well with a lot of the greats of the Canadian indie scene, like Sloan or the Weakerthans.
If anything, the subtlety that the album displays might hurt it with some audiences, as a casual listen won't necessarily bring out all the textures of the band's sound. Put on some headphones, though, find some time to listen to the whole album beginning to end, and you won't be disappointed.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Gary's Hey Rosetta! Review
Listening to the opening track of Into Your Lungs, you can picture lead singer Tim Baker standing in front of you quietly strumming a guitar and warbling the opening lines to New Goodbye. You lean forward in your seat, straining to hear his near whisper and think - Oh good, another acoustic singer/songwriter. But that's his plan, because before you know it you've been descended upon from all sides by the rest of Hey Rosetta!, in a tempest of guitars, strings, harmonies and other controlled chaos. It builds to a hair-raising frenzy before ending in a wall of fuzz and white noise. And that's just the first song.
For anyone who's heard the soundtrack to the movie Once or the band Swell Season, you'll recognize some familiar dynamics, including the ability to crank up the emotion to near heart breaking levels. Baker can go from 0-60 on that scale pretty fast, and does so frequently. In fact you might even argue that the intensity gets jacked up so often on this album (a healthy 60 minutes) that it's almost exhausting. The whisper to a scream velocity is so fast and frequent you may feel like you have emotional whiplash. But it's a cost worth paying when you know the people behind them music mean every word of it.
There's an art and meticulous craft that's gone into the album but not on a pretentious Arcade Fire-level. That said, there are moments when things get a bit "jammy" and the band seems really impressed with itself. These are fleeting moments, but I did find myself thinking - get on with it already - more than once.
Into Your Lungs has a sense of familiarity too, or as my wife succinctly put it: "I feel like these all sound like other songs." This isn't exactly a slight against Hey Rosetta!, but more a testament to how quickly they'll make you feel at home with the material. And why not - there's a lot to love on Into Your Lungs. It's powerful and weighty (Black Heart), it has grand, stomping sing-a-longs (Tired Eyes) and some really well executed 90's style rock (There's an Arc, A Thousand Suns).
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Deedle's Hey Rosetta! Review
Burn Baby Burn!
Let’s Paint A Picture:
A woodstove in the middle of log cabin, the fire’s embers glow. A slow breeze from above stokes the fire just enough and the littlest flame is started. Kindling is slowly added to the bed of embers as the flames grow bigger and bigger. Without warning a full log is tossed onto our healthy fire, and in no time we have a roaring glow a blaze. The fire fills the room with warmth and excitement. If this was a movie, we’d pull back to reveal a band jamming around this wood stove – that band would be Hey Rosetta!
“Into Your Lungs” the bands Polaris short listed album has the feel of a rustic rock record, one that may actually have been created around a wood burning stove. From the album opener “New Goodbye” the songs start slow and build to a crescendo that is generally worth the wait to get to. For Hey Rosetta! the journey through the song, from top to bottom is what matters – there is not a lot of “radio hooks” on this album – and they deliver through arrangement.
Unique arrangements with piano, various guitars, what appear to sound like woodwind instruments and strings (don’t quote me but I may have heard brass in there as well), and all seem simple, but at the same time refreshing, it’s these layers within the songs that build and maintain the rustic atmosphere from top to bottom of the album.
What strikes me the most about this album is I imagine it being played and shared live more so than being listened to a lot. I’ve never seen Hey Rosetta! play live, but I can imagine they take these songs and force you into them when standing in the same room as them.
This is the part of the review where I compare it to something else you may be familiar with. To bring it back to the woodstove/roaring fire motif – the glow of the fire casts shadows on the walls; shadows that resemble Hawksley Workman’s “Lover/Fighter” album and The Weakerthans “The Reasons”. Fellow Canadian company that isn’t too bad to keep.
It surprised me how much I liked this album, but how much it has gone relatively undiscovered in circles I roll in. I don’t know who that says more about. Hopefully we’ll all be saying more about Hey Rosetta! because there is no doubt this disc will get “Into Your Lungs”, and circulate through your system. (Thanks for obliging the word play, I waited the whole review but decided I couldn’t resist)
deedle
Album #1 - Hey Rosetta
Band: Hey Rosetta!
Album: Into Your Lungs (and around in your heart and on through your blood)
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Current Shortlist and Previous Winners
Previous winners of the Polaris music award are:
2006 - Final Fantasy, He Poos Clouds
2007 - Patrick Watson, Close to Paradise
2008 - Caribou, Andorra
The Polaris shortlist for 2009 was announced on July 7, 2009. The shortlist was decided on from a 40-album longlist:
Hey Rosetta, Into Your Lungs (and around in your heart and on through your blood)
Elliott Brood, Mountain Meadows
Chad VanGaalen, Soft Airplane
Fucked Up, The Chemistry of Modern Life
Malajube, Labyrinthes
K'Naan, Troubadour
Joel Plaskett, Three
Great Lake Swimmers, Lost Channels
Metric, Fantasies
Patrick Watson, Wooden Arms
2006 - Final Fantasy, He Poos Clouds
2007 - Patrick Watson, Close to Paradise
2008 - Caribou, Andorra
The Polaris shortlist for 2009 was announced on July 7, 2009. The shortlist was decided on from a 40-album longlist:
Hey Rosetta, Into Your Lungs (and around in your heart and on through your blood)
Elliott Brood, Mountain Meadows
Chad VanGaalen, Soft Airplane
Fucked Up, The Chemistry of Modern Life
Malajube, Labyrinthes
K'Naan, Troubadour
Joel Plaskett, Three
Great Lake Swimmers, Lost Channels
Metric, Fantasies
Patrick Watson, Wooden Arms
Some History
"The Polaris Music Prize is a music award annually given to the best full-length Canadian album based on artistic merit, regardless of genre, sales, or record label. The award was established in 2006 and includes a C$20,000 cash prize." - from Wikipedia.
The Polaris Music Prize is a juried prize that seeks to provide an award for Canadian music that focuses entirely on musical quality, rather than being determined by sales or music label connections.
Polaris jurors select the five albums by Canadian artists that they feel best meet the award criteria; from those, a long list of forty albums is compiled. From that long list, jurors are then asked to select five albums from the long list that they feel best meet the award criteria. The ten most popular choices from the long list comprise the short list. A Grand Jury of 11 individuals then vote to choose the Polaris winner, who will be announced on September 21 at the Masonic Temple in Toronto.
The Polaris Music Prize is a juried prize that seeks to provide an award for Canadian music that focuses entirely on musical quality, rather than being determined by sales or music label connections.
Polaris jurors select the five albums by Canadian artists that they feel best meet the award criteria; from those, a long list of forty albums is compiled. From that long list, jurors are then asked to select five albums from the long list that they feel best meet the award criteria. The ten most popular choices from the long list comprise the short list. A Grand Jury of 11 individuals then vote to choose the Polaris winner, who will be announced on September 21 at the Masonic Temple in Toronto.
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