Sound Salvation Army

If you haven’t been paying attention to the Internets lately, then I’m sorry that you haven’t been able to hear Cee-Lo Green’s caustic, catchy kiss-off song, plainly titled “Fuck You.”

According to Wikipedia, “Fuck You!” was a viral hit. It registered over two million plays on youtube in less than a week. There’s no barometer for stuff like this, but I think we can safely consider that “a hit.”

To make a song that is easily the jam of the summer that cannot, by its very nature, be played on commercial radio or television because the chorus is made up of what society deems one of the most taboo four letter words you can say takes a huge set of balls. Thankfully, Cee-Lo appears to have dem nutz to spare.

I always love it when people I’ve put in certain categories defy expectations. Watching Cee-Lo step into the role of weirdness required by Gnarls Barkley was interesting, and watching him subvert pop music with a straight-up paen to swearing is pretty sweet, too.

Everybody takes it to be a joke, but I think “Fuck You” is the real deal. There are elements of Motown, funk, soul, R&B, hell, even some gospel! All that’s missing is maybe a few handclaps. Imagine if Al Green had been a little less preacher, a little more oh no you didn’t! It’s the male’s answer to Blu Cantrell’s “Hit Em Up Style” except way, way better. It is sweet revenge for anybody who was ever thrown over for somebody richer, prettier, younger, smarter, whateverer.

There’s nothing more cathartic than swearing when the situation absolutely calls for it. For what it’s worth, this reporter swears like a sailor on shore leave and operates on the friendly advice of one Mark Twain: When angry, count to four. When very angry, swear.

There’s a new video for the song featuring girls in matching dresses crooning his catchy chorus, an animated segment, three different “younger versions” of Cee-Lo, a retro diner and choreographed dancing.

Let’s see you tackle this one, Glee!

 

 Cee-Lo Green - Fuck You!: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Tanis entries Cee-Lo, Fuck You, mp3, video

What the hell Regina?

As previously mentioned, dancey Regina indie rock band Despistado reformed this past week. The series of shows culminated with a set at the Exchange on Saturday night. A set that rocked. It’s just too bad no one was there to see it.

I’m being somewhat facetious. It wasn’t a sell-out, but there were plenty of people there. They drew about as many people as a lot of notable acts that play there do. But there were still tickets being sold at the door and there was people sitting, which means there was still plenty of floor space not getting used.

I suppose it makes some sense; the torch has been passed. The O’Hanlon’s hipster crowd spends their time jerking off to Library Voices albums and filling the room for their shows. Where Despistado was the toast of the town six years ago, playing the larger Distrikt to a much more frenzied crowd, apparently all they get now is a cursory glance from people looking to re-live their heyday.

This band is smart though. Singer/guitarist Dagan Harding, one song into the set, asked the crowd how many of them had never seen the group play before. Half a dozen hands went up. Understandable I guess, considering their name and music has disappeared in the last five years.

Sadly, most of the crowd seemed like they were indifferent to being there. Small pockets of people actually bothered to dance, clap along, or sing. Much of the people towards the front of the stage stood still, mouths slightly agape, watching the resurgent group tear through nearly every song they ever wrote with just as much passion and ferocity as ever.

Craig over at the Dog Blog also noticed some people leaving before the show was over. To them I offer my strongest, “What the fuck, people?” You come for a reunion show and then leave before the encore? Really?

I’ve always thought Regina audiences don’t deserve the quality of music we have here. That view has only been reinforced.

I thought the band had a great set, though. They were incredibly sharp throughout but the beginning of the set seemed slightly off, as though it took them a few songs to get their legs underneath them. It wasn’t that the sound was off, but the chemistry between them just wasn’t popping like it used to. Once things came together (at the perfect moment, no less: the rollicking, tom-heavy harmony-frenzy “Bubbles”) it was like I was back at the Distrikt six years ago seeing them for what would turn out to be the last time. They were all over the stage, rocking out in their muted, understated way. They grooved, they smiled, they laughed, they played hard. They didn’t miss a single note, even on their trickiest songs. It was something to behold.

I chatted with drummer Brennan Schwarz before the show and he said they’d been rehearsing like crazy for the last week or so. More importantly, he stressed how great it was that the members themselves were happy playing them. To hear him tell it the tour that ultimately served as the last nail in their collective coffin ended with them literally at each others throats. The joy on his face while he was pounding out track after track on Saturday showed vividly how far they’ve come.

And the songs! These songs are still so good. I’d forgotten how they come across in a live setting, how energetic they are, how lyrically meaningful and striking they are. I mean, “Lipstick,” people! There just aren’t a lot of songs that are better than “Lipstick.”

Aside from the audience the only complaint I have is that they didn’t go for broke. Schwarz told me that they’d actually written a new song during their rehearsals. He was trying to get the rest of the group to play it during their three-song encore, but they either didn’t hear him or didn’t agree. Hopefully it’s a sign that there’s more to come from Despistado in the future. But even if more shows aren’t in the cards, however, this was a very satisfying note to go out on.

 

 Despistado - Lipstick [3:30m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Despistado - Burning House [2:15m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Pat entries dance music, Despistado, indie rock, live music, people are the worst, Regina, reunions

Call it a homecoming for four guys who never left.

Like the mythical Icarus, Regina’s Despistado flew a little too close to the sun of musical success and name recognition and shit like that. Together for only three years, the band garnered crazy buzz up to and after the release of their EP, the Emergency Response. Cross-Canada tours helped them eventually sign a deal with moderately big-time U.S. indie label Jade Tree Records. One of their songs got used in a T-Mobile commercial down south; they put part of the money into a tour van and talked about using the rest to help out other local bands. A full-length album was recorded with Phil Ek, a moderately recognizable producer who helmed the boards for albums by Built To Spill, Pretty Girls Make Graves, and the Shins. It was good. Van Johnson good. But tensions were high inside the band, so the story goes; they called it quits in the middle of a U.S. tour just months before that album was set to be released.

Greg Beatty over at the Prairie Dog sums up the crushing sadness and disappointment felt by the band’s boosters back home pretty well. It seems odd now to think of Regina’s scene being “put on the map” when, at the time, there were a handful of local bands that seemed to be gaining more and more attention and acclaim with every passing month. Despistado were like the unofficial leaders of a surging musical community and to have them sweep the rug out from under themselves was devastating.

Over the years that followed I never stopped listening to their music. The galloping drums of “Bubbles,” the impossibly catchy and driving instrumentation of “A Stirstick’s Prediction” with its confrontational lyrics, the near-break-up plea of “Test Tube,” the frantic everything of “Burning House” that never fails to get your blood moving. The songs haven’t lost their vitality and they still sound like the guys you see at every local show squeezing every drop of joy they could into their playing.

For whatever reasons the band has decided to give us a taste of nostalgia. Starting tonight they’re playing three reunion gigs: one in Regina tonight, one in Saskatoon tomorrow, and then another in Regina Saturday. Singer/guitarist Dagan Harding is off to grad school in Montreal so this isn’t likely to turn into a full-fledged thing, but you can bet your as there’s going to be a lot of people in Regina who will be taking advantage of the opportunity to sing along with these tracks one more time.

If nothing else, perhaps it will be a chance to properly say goodbye once and for all. Better six years late than never, right?

 

 Despistado - A Stirstick's Prediction [3:38m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Despistado - Bubbles [4:18m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Despistado - If Relationship's A Construct Then I'm A Construction Worker [3:35m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Despistado - Test Tube [3:41m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Despistado return to the stage tonight at the Lazy Owl at the U of R. Friday night is in Saskatoon, then back to Regina at the Exchange. Grab tickets for the Saturday show at the World of Trout or the Exchange before they’re gone.

Pat entries break-ups, Canadian content, Despistado, indie rock, live music, Regina, reunions

I’ve been busy this summer, moving to Toronto, starting a new job, hanging out with friends, doing some freelance writing, running on the beach, roller skating on the boardwalk, going to ToRD bouts, running around Kitchener/Waterloo in my draws and listening to new music at local shows.

But really, I live right by the beach and most of my summer has been spent there, getting sand in uncomfortable places. So far, there are no computers there. Yay! It has been one, long, beach party! Surf surf surf!!!

I’m sure you can understand why I haven’t found time to write about any of this. I’ve just been letting emails from promoters pile up in my inbox and having intense twitter arguments with Pat about the musical worth/artistic merit of Lady Gaga. Stay tuned for an epic post of epicness resulting from said twitter fight. That fight also sort of jump started me into remembering that I have two blogs that I am ignoring and that I need to pay attention to them.

I also tend to wait too long and write too much. Well no more! I am turning over a new leaf!

Please enjoy these songs from five artists I have been digging this summer:

The Canned Goods, my favourite little Guelph group that is growing up splendidly, played the main stage at Hillside Festival this year, and will be performing at Pop Montreal in September!

Toro Y Moi, whose beats are not necessarily phat, but blissfully curvy in all the right places. Check him out. You’ll like it. I promise.

M.I.A., who seems to hate the Internet that loves her so, but who makes up for it with interesting music.

Rah Rah, who can apparently be compared to Christian rock group Hillsong United and also “learned to write songs” according to two music reviewers in their home city of Regina. To this I can only shake my head and say: Nope. No. They are miles above Jesus rock, and they’ve ALWAYS demonstrated an ability to write songs. So yeah. Take that, dudes who get paid to do what I am giving away for free! Forget killing the music industry. I hope the blogosphere kills the shitty excuse for “arts journalism” that is currently on offer.

And San Francisco beach pop enthusiasts Sonny and the Sunsets, a project from musician/artist/novelist Sonny Smith, whose 100 Records project (where he wrote and recorded 200 different songs by 100 different fictional bands with 100 different album covers, all loaded into one jukebox and available for visitors to listen to) is currently available for you to see at Cinders Gallery in Brooklyn.

Please continue to have an excellent summer!

[display_playlist]

 

 Julia - The Canned Goods : Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Leave Everywhere - Toro Y Moi: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 It Takes A Muscle - M.I.A. : Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Breaking Hearts - Rah Rah : Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Too Young To Burn - Sonny & The Sunsets: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Tanis entries M.I.A., miserable excuse for arts journalism, music, Rah Rah, Sonny & The Sunsets, summer, The Canned Goods, Toro Y Moi

And just like that, they were gone.

I just got home from the Polymaths’ farewell show. It was just like the first time I saw them play at O’Hanlon’s years ago: a similar stage set-up, the same wallflower posture on most of the band, the Polylamp. Probably a lot of the same faces in the same crowd at the same bar, the same smiles calling for the band to “chop chop” until there are no more notes left to play.

Even now, having arrived home and listened to nearly their entire discography (all 90 minutes of it) I can’t tell if the set was short or if it just seemed short. There were songs that didn’t get played, but that’s not really the point is it? Every track that was there deserved to be; this band never wrote a bad song.

There was even a song that never got released, the last song the band’s current iteration wrote, apparently. It was good. It was, completely unsurprisingly, about living in Regina all your life and how that can hold you back. It had, also unsurprisingly, a “la la la”-style refrain that was impossibly catchy. The crowd, I’m certain, would expect nothing less.

After an “encore,” an encore, and The Real Encore The Crowd Wouldn’t Leave Until It Got (”Lumberjack Rock,” duh; I still can’t believe they didn’t even practice it beforehand) it was over. There were hugs, there were handshakes, they packed up their gear.

And that was it.

They were also literally giving away whatever merchandise they had left. And yes, I took that as a tacit approval of what I’m about to do: post the entirety of Home Again for you, dear reader, to download. There is no hyperbole involved when I say that this record is perfect. You must hear it.

Download here, for a limited time only.

Below you’ll find one last track streaming, from the band’s equally brilliant EP. It’s a favourite, but it’s not the favourite. It was perhaps the most appropriate song of the night, but it wasn’t the closer. You’ll also hear a song from the full-length, the one that would’ve played over the climactic end sequence, maybe the credits, if the band were a movie.

On a night where it was still 21° celsius at TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING; where it was so humid and muggy even at 11:00pm people could be seen on the bar’s patio fanning themselves with their hands and holding a cold beer to their forehead; on a night when the stage must’ve been hot enough for a band to consider going on strike against the weather one last time; the Polymaths said goodnight.

 

 Polymaths - Strike!: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Polymaths - Burst Into Flames [4:22m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Stay tuned to Urban Planning Records to keep on top of post-Polymaths projects. Some already exist!

Pat entries Canadian content, farewells, indie rock, parting is such sweet sorrow, Polymaths, pop, Regina, rock, sadness

Parting is such sweet sorrow, you guys. It will be even more so this Thursday night at O’Hanlon’s in Regina, however, as the mighty Polymaths take the stage for the last time. Ever. In the world.

The shame of it all is that they only got one full-length CD out in their time together; one completely incredible full-length CD. It should have made my Best of 2009 list — and likely would’ve been somewhere near the top — but since I’m not as plugged in locally as I used to be I totally missed it’s initial late-December release. I picked up Home Again early this year and it’s been a resounding, poignant listen that I just can’t leave alone.

Keeping in line with their own history (on the So Long, Castle Road EP) there’s a lot of Regina in these songs. The presence of our fair city in Craig Fink’s lyrics shows itself in a variety of forms, from the obvious-to-those-that-are-from-here references in “The Longest Bridge Over The Shortest Span Of Water” (see the wiki for historical footnotes) to more subtle references to prairie life as compared to living in “London-town” or at Queen’s University (both in the comparative mecca of Ontario). There’s almost a thematic arc to the album; softly strummed opener “Age Sixteen” sets the stage with Fink intoning a tale of a young person leaving home for good only to plead ninety seconds later, “Go home.” The album ends with the slow, harmony-draped “Letter From Home,” a spiritual sibling that sees Fink insisting that he can’t/won’t go back to where he’s from.

Those songs, along with the half-dozen or so in between that touch on the same topic, hit close to home for nearly every young Saskatchewanian, I think. Our province’s legacy in the last several decades has been that of a feeder community; our young people inevitably go off to more exciting (re: less flat) places to seek their education and/or fortune. The line, “I’d like to remind you that home is where your shit is piling up” rings true to my generation’s experiences; while we go elsewhere we rarely REALLY leave. For one, the cost-of-living shift between places deemed desirable when compared to Saskatchewan is often stark and makes it tough to take your whole life with you. Moreover, it’s a hard place to get away from. People from other places may not realize it, but the prairies never leave your blood. As blog favourite Emmet Matheson recently opined on the always-delightful Bulldozer With A Wrecking Ball Attached, you’re always from here whether you like it or not.

Fink expertly captures the love/hate relationship that a lot of young people still have about places like Regina. The latter-half track “Winter At Queen’s” sees him lamenting an intense homesickness while studying away from home; the man who once railed against the prairie weather is now idealizing it after seeing the colour of the grass on the other side. Hearing his insistence that he wants to have “a spot to plant his soul” ready and waiting for him is what truly makes Saskatchewanians Saskatchewanians, the cathartic push/pull of needing to experience more but wanting to hold on to that pastoral quietude that defines us as a region and a people.

That’s not to say that this album is unlistenable for anyone that has never seen the sun rise over five hundred kilometres of flat prairie. The other half of the songs here are laudable critiques of love, working retail, and the fragility of dreams. While the Saskatchewan suite of songs stand out to me lyrically, the remainder of the tracks often rise above even those numbers.

Frankly, some of these songs are fucking astounding in how completely amazing they are. The band is firing on all cylinders in this recording, expanding their no-nonsense guitar-bass-drums-keyboard 4/4 rock and roll to incorporate genuine moments of soul music with incredible effect. The two stand-out tracks are both slower songs that begin with patient musical build-ups and Fink’s gentle singing (which transitions into near-growling insistence over their running time). “Unreliable” is the first (and possibly only) truly classic soul number written by Regina’s rock and roll underground, a tense, perfectly-arranged track that gives Fink the opportunity to exorcise the demons of a hundred spurned lovers, culminating in a note-perfect guitar solo that adds just the right amount of chaos into the closing. “Burst Into Flames” is a rumination on personal shortcomings and the conflicting nature of reality versus the dreams of our youth, a genuinely affecting number with a mournful tenor that feels like an ending, and not a good one. “I’m laundry hung out on a line,” Fink admits, before insisting with his last breath that geography might once again be playing a part in how he and his character’s lives end up.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, at least half of the band members are leaving Regina for grad school. If the lyrical content of this album is any indication I have every confidence they’ll be back some day. Saskatchewan might be the one place where you can go home again.

I can’t say enough about this album, and this isn’t future-nostalgia or pre-beak-up hysteria. I’ve been spinning this disc non-stop for months and it is worth every revolution. I don’t understand how this record and this band aren’t getting the acclaim and attention that your Library Voices or your Rah Rah are having showered upon them. No, they don’t have 14 people in the band and they don’t give away free candy at shows. They write the balls off some smart, passionate rock music and make no apologies for it.

Come out to O’Hanlon’s on Thursday and let them know that’s still worth something. Send them off to grad school with some fucking smiles on their faces.

 

 Polymaths - Sputnik Sweethearts [4:11m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Polymaths - Unreliable [4:12m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Final show is Thursday night at O’Hanlon’s. BE THERE. Click right here for more information.

Get the record from Regina-based Urban Planning Records; it comes in a crazy paper case!

Pat entries Canadian content, indie rock, local music, Regina, rock, soul, Urban Planning Records

Listening to The Gaslight Anthem’s 2008 album the ‘59 Sound I heard a band starting to deliver on its promise. I had no idea what was to come.

The newly-released American Slang is the band truly delivering on their potential, finally and fully achieving the synthesis of punk, Springsteenian rock, and 50’s soul and R&B they’ve been patiently waltzing their way toward for the last five years. They’ve done away with crutches (the power chords and modern punk tempos) that supported them on much of their last two full-lengths and an EP (which, frankly, was pretty awesome despite being nothing but an awkward growth spurt).

How did they get here? Well, it’s pretty simple: they stopped fucking around. Primarily that means getting rid of the lyrical obfuscations that have marked their previous work. Frontman and songwriter Brian Fallon has spent most of the band’s past releases couching his songs in stealth, whether it was naming every woman referenced in his songs Maria or crafting tunes that referenced musicians he admires (often directly by name) with only the vaguest hints of story/substance clinging to those references. The closest he seemed to get to autobiography was “Drive” from the debut Sink or Swim, a song about driving the tour van. Not exactly painfully personal storytelling.

Ah, but here we get another view at Fallon’s emotional depth. All of the track’s here offer a more personal take on songwriting, including some that expand on previous hints of real-life heartache. For instance, “Bring It On” offers more about the broken relationship only hinted at in the ‘59 Sound’s brilliant opening missive “Great Expectations.” It’s a classic storyline flipped on its head, the male protagonist faced with a lover threatening to leave. It remains couched in Fallon’s vague reference to The Cool, presumably making it a period piece when Miles Davis’ new twist on jazz was invading the clubs and driving the boys and girls wild. An inexplicable air of nostalgia has always clung to Fallon’s songwriting an that’s no different on this record, as no less than three songs use a variation on the phrase, “When we were young” (an interesting tendency for a man in his early 30’s). The group’s most awkward moments have always been their attempts at modern, punkier songs so it makes sense to some degree that they’d run as far as possible in the opposite direction.

“Orphans” and “Boxer” are an uptempo back-to-back pair of tracks that might cut the closest for Fallon from a lyrical standpoint. The former concerns a formerly-young man lamenting on a lonely past and trying to find himself in the world; the latter tells the tale of a rough-and-tumble youngster who escapes into music and songwriting to escape the abuse he suffers at the hands of an overly-macho father. These may or may not be windows into Fallon’s past but even if they are character pieces it certainly gives some insight into the somewhat bleak undercurrent that can permeate his songs from time to time. But that tenor does conflict somewhat with his constant nostalgia; it’s hard to imagine someone longing for such a rough-and-tumble past.

Regardless, it’s refreshing to see the group has made a conscious effort to stop writing about their favourite kind of music and instead fold its influence into their own work. That’s most apparent in tracks like “The Queen of Lower Chelsea” and “The Diamond Church Street Choir,” which are laced not only with back-up vocals from the other members of the band (heretofore nonexistent on Gaslight albums) but also with several tracks of Fallon wailing at the top of his lungs, doing his best impression of a 60’s soul singer. The commitment and charisma he shows in those layered performances are genuine and so unexpected and engaging they nearly run the risk of calling the listener’s attention away from the song as a whole.

Fallon has said in interviews that he and guitarist Alex Rosamilia put in a lot of time simply getting better at playing the guitar in preparation for this album. That comes across in a much more sophisticated interplay between the two than on past records. While several songs here maintain the upbeat punk spirit of their earliest releases they’ve also tempered that by playing parts that go beyond simple power chords, emphasizing melodicism and muscle in equal parts.

The band folds Fallon’s new-found songwriting bravery and their musical maturation into brand new territory on “The Queen Of Lower Chelsea,” a patient, quiet tribute to a woman that’s letting life pass her by. The track is a bold new step for the band, focusing around a catchy, rhythmic lead guitar figure that serves as both hook and the anchor for the song, a melodic centerpiece that is returned to throughout. It’s a song that is 95% restraint, exploding only momentarily in a quick bridge section. The band immediately quiets back down again, save for some duelling background vocals from Fallon, tortured wailing that moves the band closer than ever to the early Clapton/Stones white-boy blues vibe that influenced the writing of this record. It’s a captivating listen and a masterfully-crafted song, perhaps their best yet.

The fuller sound that has resulted from Gaslight’s obvious efforts to just get better makes this album well worth the wait. Culminating in the tortured, plaintive wailing of the final track, “We Did It When We Were Young,” the record is a huge step forward musically in addition to being a long-awaited peek into the singer’s mind. After enjoying his vague ruminations on some of his favourite artists of years past, Fallon’s finally taking steps to ensure he and his band have a shot at leaving a legacy of their own.

 

 the Gaslight Anthem - Boxer [2:47m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 the Gaslight Anthem - the Queen Of Lower Chelsea [3:39m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Plenty of music and “apparel” available through the band’s webstore. Albums are digital through iTunes as well.

Pat entries Best of 2010, fusion, Gaslight Anthem, punk rock, rock

Bravery is a quality not often rewarded in music. If it is, it’s a superficial, hollow bravery; it’s Lady Gaga being hailed as a cutting edge “artist” because she wears sunglasses made out of lit cigarettes and hats made out of telephones, not because her music is innovative, cutting-edge, or even slightly cerebral. The music is disposable and pedestrian and certainly won’t be the larger part of her legacy. That’s why it feels so good to see a group of prairie boys (now relocated to Montreal to help gain a foothold in the music biz) pushing their own boundaries lyrically and looking to squeeze some adventure out of rock and roll.

Far and away my favourite moment of the City Street’s last album, 2008’s Concentrated Living, was the sprawling six-minute track “Burn Down The Churches.” It tips singer/guitarist/songwriter Rick Reid’s hand in terms of his world view; in it he implores the world at large to divest itself of the crutch of organized religion (pulling up short of atheism he clarifies that he does believe in God, but not in the typical way), calling on the world to burn down churches and live life more spiritually and less reliant on dogma and procedure. It’s idealist to say the least; he wants everyone to quit their jobs and live their lives, embrace life-affirming passions (like sex), and embrace personal freedoms (like having it). It’s set to a musical background of galloping drums and carefully-picked electric guitar that builds and rumbles and frolics and bursts. Like the group itself it doesn’t compromise a bit.

The same can be said of the band’s new record, the Jazz Age, which opens one of its catchiest songs with the singer’s bold proclamation, “I don’t put shit up my nose…anymore.”

Yes, the Jazz Age, is more of what they do best: minimally-orchestrated yet deftly-arranged tunes that embrace and enfold every aspect of rock music’s history (from the faster-paced power chords and gang vocal “woah-ohs” of “Song for Lee” to the solo-organ reverb of “White Noise” to the powerful, string-laden outro on closer “Slothrop’s Ghost”). They’ve always been a three-piece and they aren’t ashamed or afraid of that fact; while some tracks incorporate piano, organ, and strings they aren’t crutches being used to prop up some forced agenda of artistic growth. They’re incorporated sparingly and, more importantly, for effect. In fact, the entire band fires on all cylinders here but Reid’s comprehensive guitar work is the mucilage that holds it all together. Songs explode in the chorus with a heaviness that is somewhat more prevalent than their previous releases, Reid’s furious strumming and complex picking coming across regardless of tempo.

The album is sort of an inverted pyramid of depression, romantic/sexual mistakes made by youngsters, and the consequences that result from them. The second track, “Song For Lee,” strikes one of the most upbeat tempos on the record as well as one of the closest-to-positive messages: “Our dreams are just as real as the fears in their eyes/this is all there is, kids/lets live as hard as we can stand.” What follows is an album’s worth of songs about, as Reid writes on this track, “fucked up kids” and their myriad failures and drunken, drugged-out regrets. A thread of lost love powers the intricate, detailed lyrics while the music hints at early Elvis Costello, modern punk, and Neil Young-ian rock.

To me, the final track is very reminiscent of the aforementioned “Burn Down The Churches” and is a brilliant summation of the general tenor of the album. The nine minute track spends its first six relating Reid’s misadventures of the heart through the lens of Tyrone Slothrop, a character from Thomas Pynchon’s classic Gravity’s Rainbow. Going from a lone acoustic guitar to the full band to bass-only accompaniment back to a full-band build and emotionally string-laden burst that lasts the better part of the last four minutes, it is an epic ending to an album of unsurprising but absolute depth of emotion. Climaxing with the repeated insistence, “Fuck the war, we’re in love,” Reid shows once again that a legacy of a he-slut fumbling in the dark can be overcome with just one true, real, human connection.

The album is far from a gleaming beacon of positive energy but, hindsight being 20/20, Reid knows enough to know that everyone suffers their own mis-steps while traveling the road to a more successful or happy adulthood. While I wouldn’t characterize their past albums as fucked up failures, there can be little doubt the City Streets have followed a parallel track in creating the Jazz Age, one that will hopefully lead them to the prominence a record of this caliber commands.

 

 the City Streets - Song For Lee [3:53m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 the City Streets - Last Waltz Party [3:57m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

You can buy the Jazz Age, download the album for free, or make a donation to the band at their home page. Their previous two records are also available through their site.

Pat entries ambition, Canadian content, failure, nostalgia, rock, the City Streets

An acquaintance of mine once insisted she didn’t “get” Stars. Namely, why two vocalists she insisted weren’t that talented were pushed so prominently forward in the mix on their records, why the songs were always centered around some kind of melodramatic romanticism.

But it’s those two elements that are so central to what makes Stars Stars. It also serves to both elevate their new album, the Five Ghosts, and simultaneously drag it down.

It takes only a cursory listen to any Stars song to realize that, yes, Amy Milan and Torquil Campbell are not the most showy singers; they don’t have Roy Orbison’s range (a suspected four octaves; respect) or Peabo Bryson’s bombast (huh?) or Susan Boyle’s dynamism (what?). Their performances are generally breathy, low-key, sometimes thin, all but whispers. But it’s less the singing than the devastating melodies those voices carry across to the listener that really count.

The one-two punch of “Dead Hearts” and “Wasted Daylight” is without a doubt the strongest album opening the band has ever had in that respect. Where other records have begun with drawn-out, meandering introductory pieces the Five Ghosts cuts right to the chase with one of the most memorable vocal melodies the group has ever produced. “Wasted Daylight,” one of the album’s more propulsive, building musical numbers is also boosted by a lilting and plaintive vocal melody. While much of the album doesn’t share the same lightness or brightness, the melodies remain the most prominent feature of Stars’ work.

And say what you will about the weight and gravitas of their voices, but Milan and Campbell have rarely sounded as versatile and, well, GOOD before. Their parts are clear, impassioned, and distinct and they continue to reach a new plateau every time out.

But it’s the other half of the songwriting equation where this album fails to capture my imagination. While the band did strike it big with “Your Ex-Lover Is Dead” (their most organic, orchestral songs to date) the vast majority of their career outside of the Set Yourself On Fire album has been based in electronic and keyboard sounds. The Five Ghosts might be their most thoroughly synthesized album since their earliest EPs, a fact which I’m not really that fond of. A band with this much pomp and drama, both lyrically and musically, comes across as seriously maudlin over the course of 40 chilly minutes of down-beat keyboards. I’m sure a lot of it has to do with personal preference, though; to me heartbreak is so much more tangible on a song like “Personal” (from the previous LP, In Our Bedroom After The War) that’s built around guitar and piano than the distant drum machining and swirling, atmospheric synths of a track like “He Dreams He’s Awake.” Again, maybe that’s just me.

Tonally this album once again lays the melodrama on pretty thick. Drama is a central tenant to what makes this band tick, but the rays of sunshine are surprisingly few and far between. In a recent interview Campbell told Exclaim! he always saw Stars as a band that makes “sad dance music” and that’s definitely true here. But there is virtually nothing uplifting, nothing in the vein of a “Look Up,” “Take Me To The Riot,” or “Ageless Beauty.” Everything here is death, aversion to change, zombies (unless I’m reading something into “Dead Hearts” that isn’t there), unappealing potential paramours, and fistfights between lovers. The final coda of the album declares, “Winter lives in my bones/it’s all I’ve ever known.” That seems like an all too fitting way to end this record.

I suppose it was just a matter of time until Stars let me down. The trilogy of their last several full-length albums has been too perfect; the other shoe had to drop sooner or later. The first half of the Five Ghosts is very good, and “Changes” is a pleasant surprise tucked into the latter half. But the majority of this album feels too cold, too distant. It’s a moody piece of work that is either not fitting my current frame of mind or is just a little too detached and depressing. I’m still not entirely certain.

 

 Stars - Dead Hearts [3:29m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Stars - Wasted Daylight [3:43m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Pick up the Five Ghosts in every conceivable format from the band’s web store. They’re also touring for pretty much the rest of the year, but (as they did earlier) they appear to be skipping Saskatchewan entirely.

That’s one more rung you’re slipping, Stars.

Pat entries Canadian content, indie pop, keyboard-gasm, keyboards, pop, snubs, Stars

I’ve been packing my life up for the last two days in anticipation of moving to Toronto for good. I’ve been in the city off and on for the last two weeks, working at a new job and trying to find an apartment.

I spent one week on the couch of a friend whose phone signal and Internet connection were being blocked or scrambled because she lived so near the site of the G20 summit fence. Early one morning last week, there were shots fired in her normally touristy neighbourhood in the theatre district. When I walked home from my office on King Street, I encountered police patrolling in pairs on every block. They were friendly and calm, but their presence was still unnerving. In the end, her apartment on Wellington and John became completely inaccessible and she escaped back to Saskatchewan for a week, desperate to avoid whatever was about to happen.

The weekend before that, it felt like the city was primed and humming. AT NXNE concerts, people talked about the fences, the barricade, the police and what exactly was going to happen. There was a free Iggy Pop concert at Yonge and Dundas Square that Saturday. Punks, cops, large crowds and free entrance to see righteous music. A surefire recipe for chaos. But everything went off without a hitch. Then there were the Much Music Video Awards. I doubt two more different worlds exist than a street walkin’ cheetah preaching raw power with a heart full of napalm and loyal Justin Bieber fans sleeping on the sidewalk to get tickets to see their fave-o-rite teen heartthrob. But those worlds did co-exist and the fans who spilled out into the street at the corner of Queen and John for the MMVAs had no idea that in a few days, the Starbucks across from Much Music headquarters would be boarding up smashed windows.

For the next week, I surfed the couch of a friend living near Bathurst and Bloor. Sitting at my firend’s kitchen table, combing craigslist for an apartment, I felt the ground shake, looked out the window and saw the building next door swaying. Within minutes, facebook and twitter were buzzing with information about the earthquake that had gently rumbled southern Ontario and Quebec. Relief flooded through me. Because for one brief second I thought “Oh hell. Somebody blew something up.”

I spent the last week in Toronto criss-crossing the city on public transit looking for an apartment. It was hot and I’d been living out of a backpack working a new shift for two weeks, so barricades and transit delays because of security checks (or something equally vague) made me extra irritable. I had no luck and Thursday, I headed back to Guelph.

The last few days have been a blur of packing tape, newspaper and boxes. But in between, I’ve taken periodic breaks to find that the Black Bloc was in town Saturday, flipping and burning police cars, smashing the windows of businesses and generally being a-holes. And the police stood there in their riot gear and let it happen. Cameras rolled to catch the action and it was all over the news: ‘Thugs’ justify the $1-billion price tag for G20 security.

Now, I am not pro-smashing and burning things, however, it should be noted that police cars and storefronts are things. They are not human beings.

And I hate to say it, but it’s hard to not want to smash something when you see a video like this:

Peaceful G20 protest at Queen & Spadina from Meghann Millard on Vimeo.

Meghann Millard is a friend. She works at Unspace, a programming company with offices on Queen Street West. She took this video earlier today and posted a shorter version of it on youtube. Within minutes, I saw it on twitter and facebook feeds of several friends of mine who don’t know Meghann.

A few hours later, no less an Internet celebrity and arbiter of that which is worthy to tweet about than Roger Ebert retweeted Meghann’s video to the world. His tweet was short and to the point: “Sometimes one video can summarize the whole story.”

The official response to this video and other reports at the scene on Queen and Spadina from the police was that they charged the crowd because they suspected members of the Black Bloc were in it. I know I’m supposed to be impartial and everything, but what a load of shit.

It strikes me as overwhelmingly sad that people can’t even get together and sing the stupid national anthem. We’re so lame that we don’t even rally around a protest song. We just sing the anthem because come on! We’re in Canada! We don’t have riot police who will charge you when you finish singing a song about how strong and free your country is!

But apparently we do. Apparently, we’re not as free as we think we are.

Reports from the Toronto Star’s G20 Blog indicate that most protesters who were arrested had no idea what they were being charged with, weren’t allowed to use the bathroom, couldn’t make phone calls and weren’t given access to a lawyer. Some claimed they weren’t even part of the protest and got caught up in the crowd while walking down the street. Then, as quickly as they had been arrested, they were let go and told all charges had been dropped. Your rights mean nothing. NOTHING.

Somewhere in all this, the word anarchist somehow came to mean criminal. The vandalism and violence were ascribed to all protesters. And people I formerly respected wondered aloud why protesters who got on the news didn’t spend their precious few seconds of airtime condemning violence and vandalism. Is it their job to condemn that? Some of them did anyway and good for them. But the security fence was up long before protesters took to the streets, so that’s just chicken and egg semantics and I have to ask: If the government knew this was going to happen, (To the tune of putting up a fence and hiring a billion dollars worth of extra police and actually changing my rights) why would they host this summit in Toronto at all? Especially if, as Rick Salutin put it, they had already decided to do nothing. Can’t you do nothing somewhere else? No? Really? You have to have dinner and glad-hand world leaders on top of the CN Tower? There’s a penis joke in there somewhere.

The Globe recently published another Salutin column entitled “The Man Who Came To Dinner” in which he writes:

“What is the sign of the breakdown in the relationship? Police everywhere, to protect the governors from the people. That’s how it looks. I’m not saying that’s what it is, yet. But it’s amazing that they don’t even react to the optics of the situation: i.e. a temporary police state. To us onlookers, it’s the experience of being disenfranchised. You don’t count, you suddenly have no rights. You can’t park in your spot or take your kids to school. No one asked us, at most they gathered us and told us. It’s what you feel when you’re arrested: that it’s a free country until they decide it’s not.”

I guess what frustrates me the most about this is how are you supposed to obey the law and have a peaceful protest when SURPRISE! We gave the police extra powers we didn’t tell anybody about and you’re breaking the new law we made up for the occasion, so you’re arrested! Oh yeah. That’s the Public Works Protection Act. I ask you, how can protesters be expected to follow a law that they don’t know exists? There is a real feeling of “If only everyone who do what they’re told! Act the right way and don’t make a scene and maybe then we can have our rights back!” Except that’s not how rights work.

All this coupled with the astounding revelations by some friends and colleagues that they think protesters should just get jobs and take showers (or worse, be shot on site by police) has left me extremely angry.

Without protesters, I would not be able to vote. Without protesters, Barack Obama would have spent his life in segregation, not on the road to the White House. There are countless other examples, but who cares? Sorry Martin Luther King. I know you had a dream and everything, but too bad. GET A JOB, DOUCHEBAG!

You can disagree with their methods and you can dislike their politics, but nobody can ever say that protest isn’t a valid for of expression that occasionally serves an incredibly important role in society. If you don’t believe that, then I guess I feel sorry for you. You must lead a very ignorant life.

I’m heading back to Toronto in a few short hours to find a place to live once and for all.

I have a feeling that the city will look like nothing much happened over the weekend. A few broken windows. Some scorch marks here and there. But it’s not like something more important was damaged. It’s not like the best part of the city was held hostage for almost a week with barricades and fences. It’s not like I won’t be able to look at a cop without wondering “Were you one of the ones who raised a baton to a protester?” It’s not like I’m moving to a city where people can’t gather on a public street and sing about true patriot love without being charged by riot police.

But you can’t spell patriot without riot, so I guess we’re out of luck.

 

 Iggy and the Stooges - Search and Destroy: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 M.I.A. - Born Free: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros - Burnin' Streets: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Joel Plaskett - True Patriot Love: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Tanis entries arrests, G20, journalism, music, police, protests, riots, singing