Gary's Galaxie Review

Holy shit - the French band did it again.

How do they keep doing it? How do they keep producing the most innovative, interesting and listenable music of the past four or five years?

Malajube blew my mind a few years back and then Karkwa was more than good enough to win the Polaris Prize last year. And now this bouncing explosion of ‘fuck-yeah’ energy from Galaxie - Tigre et Diesel.

And what a ride it is. Dance floor stompers, to dirty disco-chic to folk-rock love songs. It sounds frenetic and disconnected - and it is, but it works and frankly, I’m still trying to figure out how.

I mean, who would dream of incorporating the rock’n’roll swagger of say a Primal Scream with the thumping electronica of a Daft Punk? I guess these Montrealers would....and did.

I only wish I had a better grasp of the language so I could catch what frontman Fred Fortin was saying because with music this winking and clever, surely the lyrics are equally sly. That said, you definitely don’t need French lessons to dance along.

I think my favourite part about this competition is that something so big and raunchy is nestled amongst some pretty weighty projects. Like inviting Russell Brand to your country club - it’s sure to elicit some raised eyebrows. But this is what music should sound like more often - full of swagger, hedonism and straight-up fun.

I wouldn’t be shocked if this year’s Polaris Prize got handed out to yet another talented band francias. But even if it doesn't, this album stands out from the rest.

Stand Out Tracks - Piste 1, Encore

Gary's Timber Timbre Review

Creep On Creepin’ On starts as it means to go on. From the Dr Dre-esque piano and drums of Bad Ritual through to the closer Souvenirs, Timber Timbre’s album exudes an eerie, horror-movie sense of uneasiness that you just can’t shake.

The vocals drip with reverb, the drums shuffle along like a villain trailing the heroin, and the atmospheric instrumentals are bound to disturb your sleep. And yet, it’s not like this album is hard to listen to.

In fact, in an ironic twist, this is the mood and setting I feel like Colin Stetson was aiming for on his album and ultimately didn’t achieve.

Not to say this album is groundbreaking. A lot of these elements were well explored on albums like Dark Night of the Soul (the product of DJ Danger Mouse and David Lynch) or even Ryan Gosling’s Dead Man’s Bones. All share the creepy church revival sway and cinematic intensity - Timber Timbre’s however, does approach it an a uniquely Canadian way.

However the lumbering beats and piano do start to run together after a while and you start to wonder if you’ve heard this song before. It’s a great album, but maybe too much of a good thing.

So while Creep On Creepin’ On does feel a little one note, I still really dig the idea behind Timber Timbre’s log cabin recording. Like some kind of evil Justin Vernon - Mal Iver perhaps?

Ryan's Timber Timbre Review

There was this guy I knew in university who was a good guy, but was not the most intellectual of fellows. We had a couple of classes together, including, to my surprise, a philosophy class. The class was a struggle for him, and I ended up helping him study for his tests to help him pass the class. During one of those study sessions, I ended up asking him why he was taking a philosophy class in the first place, and he told me "Well, it's not that I care about philosophy; it's just that I thought I'd learn a bunch of impressive quotes to use in essays and stuff."

Listening to Timber Timbre's Creep On Creepin' On, I was strongly reminded of that sentiment expressed in that story - that it's okay to want just the high points, rather than wanting to understand the structure that lies beneath them. From the first time I listened to it, I had a feeling that I liked the album, and when I tried to articulate why I was left quoting individual lines from songs, like "I found depravity convinced me I may no longer care" and "The ectoplasm coiled like a hovering halo of smoke, and our beloved invention is conjured each night in your throat". And don't get me wrong - those individual lines are beautiful works of poetry. What I found limiting about the album, though, was that those individual lines seemed to exist in isolation; there was nothing that seemed to link them to a grander tableau or narrative, and the music of the album, while enjoyable in a chill, low-key sense, did nothing to provide a meaningful context for them to exist in either.

Overall, I'd say this was a fairly enjoyable album. If I were listening to my stereo and it came on, I wouldn't turn it off. But it lacks that special something I've come to expect from shortlisted albums, and that lack of cohesiveness of the lyrical highpoints with the rest of the album ends up as a distraction that takes away from the songs.

Dave's Timbre Timbre Review

Timbre Timbre – Creep on Creepin’ On


As the summer whips by and the days shorten, and sunsets across our nations become more spectacular Timbre Timbre’s album fits the mellowness in the air perfectly.

Cinematic and haunting the album draws you in with stark musical landscape but Taylor Kirk’s voice is the centre piece of everything. It’s deep, emotive and pushes the listener inside the album. And once you’re in, you’re in.

Just the sentiment on this album is enough to scare the pants off of a hardened criminal. Murderous and mad, Taylor embodies the mystique of what a front man should be. Images of Leonard Cohen and Nick Cave come to mind when you imagine this album being written, Taylor hunched over a desk, scotch on the desk, paper littered across the room, notes and doodles – truly a creative situation if there has ever been one.

Then he creeps through the album, stalking his listener, and truly trapping us like the prey he so desires – but you can’t trap the willing can you.

KEY TRACKS: Bad Ritual, Too Old to Die Young, Do I Have Power

CLINCHER: Creep On, Creepin’ On

Ryan's Colin Stetson Review

I'm absolutely fascinated by Rorschach tests. You're probably familiar with the concept, if not with the name: the Rorschach is a psychological test that involves showing someone a series of inkblots and having them identify images within them. The idea behind the test is that the images that people see reveal things about their personality or mental health; what's crucial about them, though, is that the blots don't have any intrinsic meaning. What's important is how people react to them.

It took a full week of listening to the album to realize it, but that's what Colin Stetson's New History Warfare Vol. 2: Judges is: an auditory Rorschach test. There's an argument that that's what all art is, to an extent, but I think this album more fully encapsulates that idea than most, if not all. As one listens to it, they take the scattered horns, haunting spoken-word poetry, and barely audible strings, and desperately try to attach meaning to it. They'll reach different conclusions while doing so, of course. Some might see Stetson as a decadent charlatan, while others might admire him for being brash and audacious in his musical creation. Some might even think, as I briefly did, that he's using the album to audition to be the house band of a post-apocalyptic wasteland.

The brilliance of this album - and let's be clear, I do think it's brilliant - is that you can't even argue that any of those perspectives are wrong. the album is so sparse, so minimalist, that it is entirely what the listener wants it to b. It's democracy in art. The end result is not one of those albums that I'm going to listen to regularly - in fact, I don't know if I'll ever give it another spin now that I'm finished reviewing it. Listening to it was a great, challenging experience, though, and I'm very glad that I did.

Standout track: A Dream of Water

Dave's Colin Stetson Review

I listened to this record once and thought – this is, um, not for me. Then I said to my self: “Self, open you’re mind, relax and listen, just don’t hear it.” Once I did that the world that Colin Stetson has created with his saxophone opened up to me and I began to appreciate the performance, the intention, and the execution of both those elements into one.

New History of Warfare – Judges Vol. 2 is not an album that can be listened to just anywhere; for me it is a record that has to be listened to in the right environment. Listening to it while racing around on the 400 series highways of Ontario in a downpour – wasn’t the best idea. However, plugging it in while sipping a cold ale on the porch of the cottage – that’s where it becomes a record that makes a little more sense. The harsh sounds of the sax, jolting up and down the register, the tapping and pounding of the percussion elements fill the air. There is no room for other sounds, or other thoughts to enter.

What is remarkable about Colin Stetson’s performance on this record is he did most of them in one take, live, in a studio by himself. Think about that for a second…got it? Now think back to when you had to do anything by yourself that required you to focus, evaluate, and then trust yourself and you’re ability so much that you can move onwards without so much as looking back. But that is the exact energy on this album – it races forward, with an avant-garde sound, skillfully telling a story, using music as the voice, and dictating listeners emotion.

All that being said, this is not the record for everyone – certainly it’s not my favourite record of the year, but I respect the process and the art, but I don’t always get it.

KEY TRACKS: Home, All the Colours Bleached to White, Judges

CLINCHER: A DREAM OF WATER

Gary's Colin Stetson Review

Halfway through my first listen I couldn’t decide whether to applaud Colin Stetson for his frenetic, insane and unique sounds or pass it off as art rock garbage. If David Lynch had some kind of deep obsession with brass instruments I have to imagine that this would be the album he’d create.

Stetson’s New History Warfare - Judges Vol. 2 is literally a cacophony of sax and trumpet samples looped endlessly in an anxious swirl. There’s virtually no discernable structure or form to the songs other than the repetitive (and ultimately grating) unmelodic loops.

The usual art project staples pepper the whole album.

Nonsensical spoken word pieces? Check.

Complete absence of drums or rhythm? Check.

Eventual onset of boredom? Check.

I clearly didn’t get what Stetson set out to do with this album as my patience waned with each listen. With the exception of the cover And I Just Can’t Keep From Crying, with an actual, honest to goodness vocal melody (delivered hauntingly by Shara Worden) I took almost nothing away from this album.

I’m positive there are people who will listen to this album track by track and appreciate its uniqueness, but I’m not one of them.

Good for Stetson for trying something completely new. Bad for listeners who are looking for songs.