Sound Salvation Army

I quite like the cover of this record. Its a nice piece of photography, yes, but like a really good record cover should it speaks to what the listener has to look forward to once that plastic cling wrap is removed.

With If I Don’t Come Home You’ll Know I’m Gone Ontario’s the Wooden Sky have crafted an intensely, at times achingly, personal record with a stark confessional tone that makes it seem like you’re looking in on Gavin Gardner’s dirty laundry as it spins inside the washing machine of his brain. Every failed relationship, every shameful wish for harm to befall an ex, every wilting plea for reconciliation, its all in these songs.

The band identifies as folk-rock but they have worked hard to tone down the rock and connect more heavily with their roots (double meaning!) since their first record. Throughout the album there are subtle guitar arrangements, gentle percussion, sprightly piano, even a whirly-wind. Texture comes from violins, organ, even clarinet at one point. The pace has been scaled way back from the group’s first album (re-released last year), many of the songs slinking by in a subdued manner, punctuated by barely-perceptible percussion and Gardner’s emotive vocals.

The rock edge pops up once in a while on tracks like, “When We Were Young,” countered by the frail and lovely “Oslo,” with its fragile lady-singing harmony and echoey steel guitar. “Angels” boasts a slick, fluid tempo change that really stands out against Gardner’s shouted vocals (singing that would fit right alongside current tourmates Elliott Brood). The easy, lilting vocal melodies are the thread that runs the full length of the album, elevating first single “Something Hiding For Us In The Night” above its meandering tempo and creating a dynamic sing-along song in “the Late King Henry.”

The arrangements on the album are incredibly engaging and far from uniform. The seeming undercurrent of melancholy never gets mired in hopelessness and the band sequences the album well, providing a couple of energetic, rockier breaks to counteract the more dour low points. Its a move that demonstrates their growth and maturity as songwriters and recording artists. It’s also the hallmark of someone that is actually considering the album as a wholly unified piece of work, something I quite appreciate.

The Wooden Sky is in the midst of a cross-Canada tour with self-professed “death country” superheroes Elliott Brood, which is bringing them to Regina on Thursday. Based on the strength of this album I wouldn’t be surprised to see them winning over a LOT of fans when they hit the stage. This is an extremely strong record that nestles right into the current slate of vaguely rootsy artists in our country like Cuff The Duke, Elliott Brood, et al. Turns out the self-reflection evinced by the cover photo is a good fit for the Wooden Sky.

 

 the Wooden Sky - My Old Ghosts [3:02m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 the Wooden Sky - Call If You Need Me [2:45m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

The Wooden Sky’s webstore is apparently closed. But opening soon. I guess you could go to a record store and find the album, but isn’t it easier just to hop over to iTunes, you lazy so-and-so?

Canadian tour dates are:
10/01/2009 - Regina, SK @ The Exchange
10/02/2009 - Saskatoon, SK @ Amigos
10/03/2009 - Edmonton, AB @ Starlite
10/04/2009 - Calgary, AB @ Dickens
10/05/2009 - Lethbridge, AB @ Henotic
10/06/2009 - Nelson, BC @ Spirit Bar
10/07/2009 - Vancouver, BC @ Biltmore
10/08/2009 - Victoria, BC @ Sugar

ALSO:
While these guys are playing the Exchange tomorrow night, don’t forget that blog favourites Final Fantasy and Timber Timbre will be very gently rocking the same stage tonight, Wednesday evening. I got free tickets from the good folks at the Prairie Dog, but you should come out and fork over some cash too.

Pat entries Blackball Records, Canadian content, folk rock, indie rock, live music, rock, the Wooden Sky

It turns out the track Pitchfork released a number of weeks ago was quite representative of Why?’s new album as a whole.

“This Blackest Purse” is Eskimo Snow in a microcosm: heavy on the piano and sombre in its sentiment. It marks a continued slide away from the morbid jocularity seen on the group’s last two albums, the lyrics outlining a seemingly-genuine sense of dire self-awareness, aging, and impending death.

Those undercurrents run through every song in this cycle; quite a feat, considering it was pretty much entirely recorded during the sessions for Alopecia, the songs broken up into two records during mixing. Its clear why a delineation had to be made, as there is nothing here that approaches the dizzying pop heights of “Fatalist Palmistry” or the dark storytelling of “the Hollows” or “These Few Presidents.” The group is pretty much leaving hip-hop behind completely, bringing a close to the transformation that has been slowly progressing through Elephant Eyelash and Alopecia, swinging into indie rock territory and prettying up their tunes. There is almost no programmed beats or drum machines on these songs, giving the album a warmer, more organic tenor. Most significantly Wolf sounds world-weary and resigned on many of these tracks, like he’s seeing the end of something big just ahead of him.

But he’s in no hurry to get there. The tempo of the album is slowed way down, like the band downed a few bottles of cough syrup before they started writing. Nearly all the songs save the last track are arranged around Wolf’s piano parts, dour and minor key as a whole (ironic, as an alternate “sock hop” version of the title track was released earlier this year on a Tiny Mix Tape compilation, replete with pianos). The combination of the two almost makes it seem like Wolf wrote the album in the midst of one long migraine headache, not wanting to extend himself too far or turn the volume up too loud. “Eskimo Snow” and “One Rose” feature gently finger-picked acoustic guitar, glock, even some atmospherics and synthesized strings. Hell, even the percussion is frequently scaled back; while each song boats live drums, malleted toms and cymbals give the rhythm section on several songs a plodding, wide bottom end.

“Into The Shadows of My Embrace” and “Against Me” bring the tempo up, the former also hewing the closest to Alopecia’s lyrical tone. Wolf dips back into the shameless confessionals, describing how his neighbours can hear him masturbating, how he made out with his shrink, and the discovery of an animal carcass at an old home. But while it gives a hint of the familiar to long-time listeners it also sticks out like a sore thumb to some extent, with Wolf even catching himself from actually spitting out the inevitable conclusion to one of his least-challenging lines. But while its a bit more playful than the other songs, it still centers around death, crippling insecurity, and Wolf’s general lack of emotion.

Now don’t get me wrong, its not as though nebulous existential queries about life, death, and the downward spiral haven’t been asked on previous records; its more that they’ve never seemed so resigned or hopeless as they do here. Wolf is constantly talking about what will happen when he’s gone, about the inevitable degradation a person’s body goes through on a day-to-day basis, or the way in which a man should die. He opines on the fragility of man, insisting that even the most pleasurable moments of life have detrimental effects, equating sex to walking and smoking at the same time. Dark thoughts abound outside of the big sleep, of course; Wolf also expresses some inner turmoil about himself, how he feels being seen as an artist, and the struggle people feel trying to be comfortable with their body. At one point he compares lovers to matchbox cars lost in the brush for years, covered with moss when they’re finally exposed to the world.

And yes, the dude can still turn one hell of a phrase. “Against Me” is downright replete with them. “The rain doesn’t respect state lines, why would you?” he asks rhetorically before launching into the significantly less-elegant, “I’ve heard electricity can travel up your piss stream.” Perhaps the most shining example of the tenor and content of the album as a whole is the churning, “One Rose,” where he laments his very existence. “I got jumped into living by a coven of midwives,” he complains, having already insisted that, “A man should die gaunt/and not bloated and overdone/there should be new words hidden/in the shadows on his face/and like a wine glass/in a perfect pitch/he breaks.” And just when you think you’re heading into an uplifting chorus he hits you with the even more bleak, “And always one rose grows through a littered lot of gravel/or we’re struck dumb and doomed when it doesn’t.”

“One Rose” also happens to kick off what is possibly one of the greatest back halves of an album I’ve heard in the last ten years. Its sparse finger-picking, malleted drums, and elegiac tone leads into the driving, tacked-piano of “On Rose Walk, Insomniac.” “Berkley By Hearseback” is just as lovely musically as the wordplay of the title is, its own overriding pallor of death contrasted by the sprightly guitar figures, building percussion, and a rare uplifting vocal melody. “This Blackest Purse” has the sombre keys of Ben Folds’ darkest moments (according to Pitchfork anyway). “Eskimo Snow” features slighty reverb-treated acoustic guitar picking, airy, muggy keys and Wolf’s most naked vocal yet. It reads like a hopeless tale of loneliness, a desperate man hurling his each and every prayer and private thought into the public without really understanding why or how it will help. A person who’s searching for answers inside himself and coming up empty.

Eskimo Snow is a very difficult listen, there’s no getting around that. It’s different even for a band that cut its teeth on being different. It’s depressing as shit if you let it get to you, but at the same time so disarmingly beautiful you’ll keep coming back for more. Astounding.

 

 Why? - Berkeley By Hearseback [3:40m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Why? - On Rose Walk, Insomniac [2:08m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Why? albums are most definitely freely available from Anticon Records’s web page and iTunes, as always.

Pat entries Anticon Records, indie rock, not hip-hop, Why?

So I just got a new computer. I’m typing this on a brand new MacBook Pro. So pretty. So shiny. So precious.

But I faced a serious challenge when it came to transferring my music library. It was a headache and a half and the only relief came when I realized that the first music I put on this bad boy was Rah Rah’s Going Steady.

It was the perfect way to bust this machine’s MP3 cherry. This album has been around for awhile, but it’s a feat that it still feels as fresh as the day I first downloaded it.

Rah Rah is another one of those huge collectives born in the wake of Arcade Fire’s success. Their sound is big and lush, but folkier than Arcade Fire. The songs are poppier, the lyrics sing-a-longier and if they are sometimes depressing, they are humorously so.

At Hillside Festival this year, another Regina collective topped many a “best performance” list. And Library Voices had a brilliant set. I walked into that performance a fan and walked out a bigger, drunker fan. Any band that can write a song dedicated to Kurt Vonnegut with the lyrics “There’s an asterisk beside your name” is all right by me.

I feel sorry for anybody who had to listen to me that weekend, but after seeing Library Voices perform, I was overcome with a profound and lengthy bout of homesickness. Which I expressed by morphing into Slater from Dazed and Confused and extolling the musical virtues of my home prairie province, saying loudly, to anyone who would listen “Maaaaaan, Saskatchewan bands, man! The prairies are where it’s at!” And “I miss the State. We were hardcore back in the day. You know a club is good when there are no doors on the stalls in the bathroom!”

And finally: “If you think Library Voices are good (and if you don’t, you’re stupid), you should hear Rah Rah! They’re even better!”

It’s nice for a change, to see bands from the prairies get their due. I had a big schwak of complaints written out, whining about Regina’s concert scene and the mandate to bring huge, awful acts through the city since the Stones brought their walkers and canes to town and put on the biggest outdoor concert in Canadian history a few years ago. But the I realized that I can’t very well talk about what I don’t know. And I don’t know Regina anymore, but Rah Rah does. And they hearken back to a time when the city was undiscovered on The Innocent One.

What I do know is that the city is breeding a new guard of bands that are gaining some deserved attention. Rah Rah was best band in Regina by the Prairie Dog in 2007, and it is a goddamn shame that they weren’t included on the Polaris list because Going Steady is an album deserving of your attention.

“Duet for Emmylou and the Grievous Angel” is the gem of the album. It plaintively laments living the single life in a small town the way you and your single friends do, but with a bittersweet The chorus wails “It is fashionable, to be single/ in big cities but not in small towns/ in Regina, Saskatchewan/ I fell in love with her frown.” That is the charm of Saskatchewan (and this group) in a nutshell. It’s easy to fall in love with a smile of a city like Vancouver. But falling in love with Regina’s frown is another thing. I also dig the fantastical love story that is “Tentacles” (he loves her and if not for the language barrier, he might marry her, though she has tentacles.) There’s the sweetly simple back and forth of “Cuba/Peru” that highlights the way this group has mastered silly love songs.

In fact, they’ve moved on to hate songs.

Both “F**CK NAFTA” and “The Innocent One” have deceptively soft intros. Both are driving, frustrated anthems for a generation growing up in the wake of corruption, scandal and two huge, unwinnable wars. Going Steady is a near-perfect album filled with soaringly happy songs and bittersweet memories of a fading city. It is made better by its fortuitous release during an era characterized by its unending appetite for destruction of icons held dear by the generation before them. It don’t get much better than the command “Fuck all you stockbrokers in the crowd.”

It gives me heart that this is a band that has not yet had its dreams crushed by a harsh world and is still writing songs about damning the man and saving the empire.

Buy Going Steady from Sonic Unyon, Zunior, and iTunes and more importantly, go see them when they come to a town near you on their It’s Never Too Old To Believe a Dream Tour.

 

 Rah Rah - Tentacles [3:56m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Rah Rah - Duet For Emmylou and Grievous Angel: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Tanis entries live music, mp3, Rah Rah, Regina

-photo courtesy of Tyrannous’ flickr

A fresh pair of ears can do wondrous things for a song. Like Whitney Houston did to “I Will Always Love You” or Jimi Hendrix’s take on “All Along The Watchtower” or the Manfred Mann Band’s cut of “Blinded By The Light” (which the Boss calls the definitive version of the song; I couldn’t disagree more) a different perspective or way of thinking can completely transform a song, superseding the original to become the definitive performance of the tune. Today we’re talking about much lower-profile musicians, but the effect remains the same: Laura Stevenson is rocking the shit out of a cover on her latest release.

In a lot of ways Stevenson sticks out like a sore thumb. The folk(ish) artist was/is a keyboardist for Bomb The Music Industry!, one of the noisiest punk bands around today. But while she’s served that role she’s also been performing solo material that is leagues apart from the over-compressed, thousand beats-per-minute, shriek-howls that denote BTMI!’s sound. With her first release, A Record (recorded with her backing band, a loose and free-flowing collective known as the Cans), out on BTMI! frontman Jeff Rosenstock’s donation-based download label Quote Unquote Records, she still sticks out amongst the myriad punk rock bands that make up its roster. Luckily she doesn’t seem to mind.

Stevenson’s sound can be all over the map. A Record sees her transitioning from hushed acoustic/banjo’d balladeering to 20 second interstitial tracks to crunchy electric guitarded rock songs. She frequently writes about herself, her insecurities, the impact a personality or attitude can have on a relationship. On the surface that may sound like fairly typical singer-songwriter fare.

But Stevenson’s songs propel her above that. The loose feel of her recordings and the simplicity and passion that drive them are given a strong boost by her sprightly vocals. That’s likely the thing that will catch your attention, especially on the standout track from her latest release, a split 7″ recorded by and with her bandmates in Bomb The Music Industry.

As lovely as the Stevenson original (”Halloween One & Two”) is in the lead slot, the BTMI! cover is astounding. A song titled “It Ceases To Be ‘Whining’ If You’re Still ‘Shitting Blood’” might seem difficult to class up, but Stevenson and her Cans (that sounds kind of wrong) strip away the layers of noise and grit to completely transform it. The original is a coarse song (boasting the most “eff words” per-second I’ve heard in a long, long time) that is lyrically rife with the tension and pressure that seeps into every crevice of a band’s being when they’re on the verge of hitting the big time, of the crushing expectations a songwriter feels when they expect every song to be the one that will put them over the top.

In Stevenson’s hands the track is given a crushing fragility, her lilting soprano clearly enunciating every line as though the fate of her career hangs on every syllable. Her voice enhances the message, reading like a self-affirmation, a promise to herself to continue writing songs that she feels have merit regardless of the opinion of others. A gradual build leads to an emphatic climax in the last chorus, exploding from the speakers as a joyous, ebullient revelation. It leaves me exhausted and ends far too abruptly.

I love Stevenson’s work and knowing her interpretive abilities are at least on par with her writing skills is a nice surprise. Hopefully it leads to some BTMI! fans checking out A Record. Her songs may not be breaking barriers, but I feel like they are slowly but surely chipping away at them. With loveliness.

 

 Laura Stevenson & the Cans - It Ceases To Be "Whining" If You're Still "Shitting Blood" [2:50m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Laura Stevenson - the Pretty One [3:15m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Dig on Laura Stevenson at Quote Unquote Records, where you can download her songs on a honour-based donation-payment system. The BTMI! split, which I love ever so dearly, is out now on Kiss of Death Records.

Pat entries acoustic, folk, Laura Stevenson & the Cans, punk rock, Quote Unquote Records

So last night was pretty amazing. I finally got a chance to see possibly the best rock band operating these days — and one of Tanis’ favourite groups — live and I only had to make a four-hour round trip to do it.

I got the tickets a few weeks back but what with some relatively big-time disruption in my life recently I almost forgot it was even happening. I met up with my college buddy Darryl who was getting his first exposure to the band at the show. We drank a beer.

We also arrived just as the set began so no time was wasted. The band was incredible, tearing into song after song after song from all eras of their back catalogue. All the way back to …Almost Killed Me (”the Swish”)! The performances were flawless: Tad Kubler’s leads were note-perfect, Franz Nicolay’s keys and back-ups were punctuated by his on-stage flair (helped by the fact that he was dressed like Sinatra’s butler), and Craig Finn was like a spastic librarian hurtling himself around his microphone with reckless abandon.

The song selection was quite good, although they didn’t play four or so songs that I was really, really hoping for (mostly “First Night,” my all-time favourite Hold Steady song). But we got “Chips Ahoy,” “How A Resurrection Really Feels,” “Your Little Hoodrat Friend,” “Slapped Actress,” and even the awesome b-side “Girls Like Status.” It was a magical set of songs and the rather lively audience totally appreciated it. The encore was phenomenal, including a ripping version of “Southtown Girls.”

So thanks to the band for actually going on a real Canadian tour. Now they’re even awesomer than before. No thanks to the brain dead among the Keith Urban fans that flooded the highways and gas stations while I was trying to make my way home. I don’t mind waiting in line for 20 minutes to pay for my stay-awake juice, teenagers in home-made Keith Urban shirts. I only had to do a radio morning show at 6:00am. Thanks for allowing me to get just three hours of sleep, you absolute nerds. Seriously. Keith would prefer if you bought one of his shirts, you douche barges.
__________________________

Big ups to the hardcore kids in Fucked Up this week as well. They took home the Polaris Prize the other day, instantly causing newspaper editors across the country to not cover the Polaris Prize this year. They deserved it! It wasn’t just the best Canadian record of the year, it was the best record period of the year. Get on it.

 

 the Hold Steady - First Night [4:54m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 the Hold Steady - Two-Handed Handshake [4:13m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 the Hold Steady - Girls Like Status [2:44m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Fucked Up - Son The Father [6:00m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Get your Hold Steady shit here, dogg. Fucked Up stuff is found at the MataStore, and other places too.

Pat entries Canadian content, Fucked Up, live music, Polaris Prize, the Hold Steady

Re-discovering an old favourite is usually a wonderful experience. Cueing up a record you haven’t listened to in years, remembering how moving it was, re-living that experience…there’s nothing better. Usually.

When the National’s Boxer first hit me I was hurtling through the rocky mountains in what can quite literally only be described as the dead of night. Evocative, suppressing blackness marked both the night sky and the sound of the album, the risk of danger and death literally lying around every corner enhancing the experience of hearing the songs. In the two years since I’ve listened to the record only sparingly, but recently it has wormed its way back into a regular rotation on my various music players. But I’m finding the dark and ominous tone is acting like a mirror, parabolically reflecting a whole new set of emotions this time around.

The sense of isolation, loneliness, depression, anxiety, they were always there. But hearing it now the detachment and ennui in Matt Berninger’s voice rings so much truer. The entire album feels so much more visceral when your own wounds are wide open.

After four years my common-law wife decided a few weeks ago to end our relationship. The details are not for your consumption. While I understand and respect her decision and the numerous factors that went into it it still sucks ass. I’ve spent the better part of September drinking (way) too much and distracting myself by working extra shifts and going out with friends and family, trying to reconcile my new-found freedom with the simultaneous severing of the adoration I’ve felt for so long. On Saturday I slept for more than six hours, the first time this month I’ve managed to do that. Yesterday I cleaned my apartment until my hands bled.

People always like to say that time heals all wounds. While that’s cold comfort in the immediate aftermath, I can still appreciate how time also distorts things. Boxer is evidence of that. While I love it just as much as I ever did the album reads completely different to me now. Its a little bittersweet to feel love and joy at a time like this.

One more thing to feel good about: listening to so much new music means you always have plenty of miserable music to listen to when you’re mired in the dumps. Below is a quick mix, sampling some of the songs that carried me through one particularly dark evening that consisted of seven hours, dozens of the saddest songs I could think of, and a shitload of vodka and rum. I would say, “Enjoy,” but that really isn’t the point, is it?

 

 the National - Ada [4:05m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Sarah Harmer - You Were Here: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Frightened Rabbit - Keep Yourself Warm [5:33m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Mountain Goats - No Children: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Drag the River - Hang Dog [2:30m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 the Bicycles - Can I Keep Calling You Baby [2:17m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Mike Hale - Lives Like Mine [3:37m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 the Lowest of the Low - Black Monday [5:10m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 the Wheat Pool - Right Arm: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 the Mountain Goats - Woke Up New: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Pat entries break-downs, break-ups, emo, it's personal, mixes, relationships

It’s a cliche to say you should write about what you know, but that age-old maxim is very much true. It also has me simultaneously titillated and terrified as I post this item.

If you aren’t from Regina and don’t know the genealogy Jesse Matheson is the brother of Emmet Matheson, one of my favourite writers, critics, and underpants-puller-offers ever (here’s a link to his credentials; he’s bona fide). Both men have a knack for ingenious allegory, wordplay, and tweaked absurdity. Jesse plays guitars and sings songs while Emmet lives for the printed word (and the occasional subversion of such).

I met Emmet when I was working and volunteering at the University of Regina Carillon, where he spent time as Editor-in-Chief and even more time as the man behind some of the most entertaining and intelligent CD reviews the publication has ever seen. Even then his knowledge of music seemed encyclopaediac and his analysis was practically Ebertian. It was his thoroughly entertaining encapsulations that inspired me to first review music, then to do it better. He’s the reason I once reviewed a particularly awful techno CD by listing nothing but sci-fi sounding onomatopoeia.

So my appreciation for his work after even the briefest of exposure to it resulted in a bit of anxiety when he personally asked me to review his brother’s album for its recent re-release. Of course any pressure I feel about it is completely self-imposed, but its there. And it has only compounded since I first spun the record.

I’m nervous about this review because someone whose work I genuinely appreciate will be watching closely. I’m nervous about this review because there could be a perceived conflict of interest if I write something glowing about it. I’m nervous about this review because I love this record, but I don’t want to write something too hyperbolic about it; I think people tend to back away from something if a reviewer is too enthusiastic.

But this album is deserving of every sliver of praise it will receive, and those will be multitudinous. Jessie Matheson writes and performs songs with a relaxed confidence that belies a wellspring of talent. His album is called Pleasure Pounds, a reference to, “those parts of a woman’s body that are, well, womanly.” The cover is adorned with a symmetric set of serpentine jaws surrounding a slice of cake. The image, combined with the title, says a surprising amount about the lyrical content contained within.

Matheson isn’t interested in writing protest songs or politically-charged anthems railing against the system; his concerns are far more immediate. Take, for example, the first four songs. “Make Out,” “Moan,” “New Booty,” and the marvellous “She Does It In Graveyards” all discuss exactly what you think they do. The upbeat lead-off track is a paean to lip-mashing, just one of the intimate activities that apparently consumes Matheson’s brain on a non-stop basis. “Moan” takes things into the bedroom, as he lustily intones his desire to drive his paramour wild. “New Booty” celebrates the impact home-cooking has on a lady’s backside. “She Does It In Graveyards” is pretty self-explanatory.

In the hands of lesser songwriters this could come off as painfully sophomoric, but Matheson is just writing what he knows. He’s up-front about his desires and not the least bit lecherous; instead he comes across as that goofy friend who knows a sense of humour is what really wins over the ladies. Witness “Nothing At All,” a highlight of the album’s back end in which he imagines some increasingly entertaining and absurd situations wherein his lady has no clothes on. Simple concept, cleverly written, playfully performed. Its extremely endearing.

Matheson’s cause is helped by his refusal to over-complicate the music and his willingness to let his influences show. On nearly every track he subtly strums an acoustic guitar and sings like the horny ghost of Jonathan Richman (yes, I know he isn’t dead). That is probably the most obvious comparison to this material, as Matheson wears his Richman influences on the sleeve of his Velvet Underground t-shirt. Unpretentious arrangements see handclaps, some smooth bass, spare synths, reverb-laden electric guitar, some wonderful female harmonies, even lap percussion and a slapdash choir (presumably naked, if one suspends disbelief while listening to the marvelous “Orgy In Portland”) thrown into the mix. Given that his other love is food, I’m not surprised to see that he knows full well the hazards of having too many cooks in his kitchen. The songs succeed because of his charisma.

Of course not ever song centers around lyrics like, “Let’s make my loveseat into a love seat.” Matheson quite admirably addresses the dire situation Regina’s downtown has been facing for the last number of years in “I Walk Downtown,” lamenting the too-often deserted streets in what should be a bustling sector. The album also closes with one of the most beautiful and sincere love songs I’ve ever heard, the touching and intimate “We Don’t Have To Go Home.” On an album full of uncomplicated songs, this is the purest one: nothing more than two people sitting in a room and singing into an open microphone while the tape rolls. Allison Russel (of Po’ Girl) provides the other half of this duet, both singing gently but purposefully, enunciating loving intent along with every syllable. You can hear them smiling the whole way through and it is downright infectious.

That sentiment carries through every song on Pleasure Pounds. This is happy music, but not overly sentimental or vapid. Its funny, but not jokey or parodic. Its sexual, but coyly so, not in a modern R n’ B or dirrrty pop way. Matheson’s songs acknowledge the base desires we all share and celebrates them with understated hooks and a refreshing ability to avoid taking himself too seriously. This is an album that should be celebrated in kind.

 

 Jesse Matheson - She Does It In Graveyards [2:03m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Jesse Matheson - Nothing At All [3:59m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Jesse Matheson - We Don't Have To Go Home [2:56m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Pleasure Pounds is easily found via the internets at the Copperspine Records site. Also, on iTunes, should that be your game. Good old physical copies still exist; they’re at CDBaby as well. Jesse’s myspace is located here for those that would seek it.

Pat entries acoustic, Copperspine Records, Emmet Matheson, Jesse Matheson, Regina, writing

Their star is rising on the Canadian music scene and Modernboys Moderngirls lead singer Akira Alemany is understandably cautious. Bands come and go and he’s not counting on anything beyond the next gig.

The Toronto group just released their first album, I Might As Well Break It and Alemany is already “pretty close to finished” writing what he hopes will be the group’s second album, but he has no idea if anybody will hear it.

“I’ve got about seven or eight new tunes ready, but I don’t really have any idea if we’ll ever get to make another album. If we don’t… my cat will enjoy them, I guess.”

Yeah, right. Alemany’s cat, you, me and thousands of other people, if their debut is any indication.

Brett Millius, Juan Carlos Rivas, Akira Alemany

Suddenly, it was getting reviewed. It reached No. 8 on the CBCRadio3 charts and the reviews were positive, glowing, even. But Alemany wasn’t done tinkering with I Might As Well Break It.

“I’m not a perfectionist or anything, but it wasn’t done.”

The band took three songs off, put three new songs on, self-produced it and brought in Ryan Mills of Born Ruffians to mix and remaster the album for its official release.

“Ryan was a set of fresh ears. I think things work best when people making an album are bending away from each other a little,” Alemany says. “I liked having somebody come in with another perspective.

“Like, for example, I love Beck, but you listen to his albums and it’s like ‘drums by Beck, guitars by Beck, produced by Beck.’ I wish things would just conflict a little more. There’s too much agreement!”

Alemany compares the process of making the record to premiering a movie at Sundance, getting audience feedback, taking it back to the studio for another edit, then gaining a wider release in theatres. The release date was yesterday, the CD release party is tomorrow and early box office reports are favourable: Two thumbs way, way up.

It’s a fast-paced album filled with songs that manage to wedge themselves between the harshness of the garage and the burning flame of soul in the family room next to the furnace in the basement. It’s like Elvis Costello’s angry young man was recorded with the feverish dynamics of Stax soul.

This merging of genres is not seamless, but that’s part of its charm. Choppy guitars and a driving rhythm section slam up against poppy, repetitive choruses that jangle and shine and it’s all wrapped in a very purposeful cohesiveness that does not sound like a debut album. In that way, it’s similar to the New Pornographers’ debut, Mass Romantic;at first you might think it’s a mess, but it soon becomes apparent that IMAWBI is something special. They play with feedback, bring in some female vocals to bounce along on choruses, and just generally rip through these songs like they’re going to be taken away.

There also seems to be a theme of breakups and endings running through the album, but if there is, Alemany ain’t talkin’.

“There may be a specific narrative about people and relationships,” he said, but: ”I don’t think it matters what the songs mean to me after I’ve written them. I’m much less important at this point and I just want to invite the audience to be part of it.”

Audiences seem willing to come along. Modernboys Moderngirls have developed a solid reputation as a band to see live.

A couple years ago, they played a show at the Legendary Horseshoe Tavern in Toronto as a snowstorm raged outside. The crowd braved the weather and the place was packed with sweaty, dancing bodies. An Edgefest organizer in the audience was impressed enough to offer them a spot at the festival. Things picked up from there.

“We built our reputation on our live shows and that snowstorm was the best thing that ever happened to us.”

Their influences - everything from punk to soul to the straight ahead rockof Springsteen - have inspired them to be better live.

“We listen to the Stooges, to Television, to the New York Dolls, to the Ikettes and Tina Turner. Brett (Millius), our drummer, is obsessed with Johnny Thunders and the Dead Boys. I think Iggy Pop really brought showmanship and rawness to the stage. And Otis Redding live at the Whiskey A Go-Go is a great punk show! The best punk shows elevate! That’s what we want to do.”

 

 Modernboys Moderngirls - On The Line : Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Modernboys Moderngirls - A Hammond Organ Singing: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Otis Redding - Satisfaction (I Can't Get No) Live: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Burn Planetarium - Frankenstein Kids: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Will Modernboys Moderngirls elevate YOU? Find out for yourself at Sneaky Dee’s tomorrow when the group OFFICIALLY releases I Might As Well Break It. Doors open at 8:30 and as an added bonus, if you’re there early, you’ll get to see one of my favourite Guelph groups, Burn Planetarium. Neat!

Check out their blog, buy their stuff at their official store, on iTunes, or order it on amazon.ca or hmv.ca. Better yet, check them out live. Maybe they’re coming to a city near you!

Tour Dates:
Sept. 18 - Toronto: Sneaky Dee’s, CD Release w/ Clothes Make the Man, Burn Planetarium, Rikers
Sept. 19 - Kingston: The Toucan w/ Pelt
Sept. 25 - Barrie: Oscar’s w/ The Junction
Sept. 26 - Hamilton: Club Absinthe
Oct. 1 - Waterloo: Maxwell’s Music House w/ Balconies
Oct. 3 - London: Black Shire
Oct. 4 - Windsor: Phog Lounge (FAM Fest)
Oct. 9 - Jamestown, NY: Mojo’s
Oct. 10 - New York City, NY: Arlene’s Grocery
Oct. 12 - Brooklyn, NY: TBD
Nov. 6 - Toronto, Silver Dollar
Nov. 19 - Quebec City, La Ninkasi

Tanis entries Canadian content, interview, Modernboys Moderngirls, mp3

As much as I’d like to believe this is true, I sincerely doubt it.

Thank you, registered users of Sound Salvation Army, for having a sense of humour. I swear if I ever figure our what registration is for/does I’ll make use of it.

I can’t wait for the “barack obama member” google searches to start re-directing here.

 

 Wilco & Fleet Foxes - I Shall Be Released: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Pat entries Barack Obama, jokes, member, Sound Salvation Army

Guess what I found when I logged on to the internet the other day?

I already mentioned the fact that Strike Anywhere’s new album, Iron Front is coming out October 6th. Good news. But last week with literally no forewarning the bad announced the release of a vinyl/digital teaser EP of the same name, to be released immediately!

Its a good snapshot of what’s to come: the A-side tracks are taken directly from the full-length with two more non-album tracks as B-sides. All are vintage Strike Anywhere, all highlighting their promise to reconnect with their speedy hardcore roots. Of course, the band’s sonic palette is only so wide, so the shifts are subtle at best.

Gang vocals permeate every track, the tempos are high and driving, the lyrics brimming with vitriol. But while Thomas Barnett talked about shedding some of the pop and folk elements underscoring previous album Dead FM, they’re not completely relegated to the scrap heap. There is still a bit of faint acoustic guitar strumming in “Orphan Age” and “Twilight’s Last Gleaming.” The vocal melody of “Hand of Glory” and the harmonies on “Twilight’s Last Gleaming” are straight out of the melodic pop handbook. Even the castaway songs on this EP stand solidly among the catchiest they’ve written.

Barnett is as vicious here as ever despite retaining a voice that is deft and malleable, crooning where its needed and raging more often than not. His worldview has not been made sunnier by the Hope Administration; he still sees America as a place where too may people either fall through the cracks or are pushed into them. “Failed State” envisions a country so bleak and run so deeply into the ground its citizens face insurmountable obstacles at every turn. Washington won’t be forgiven as long as Barnett still sees it as a city that would rather bail-out millionaires than feed its hungry. “Orphan Age” paints Americans as detainees in a contemptable country that can’t find a way past its bipartisan angst.

As a good teaser EP should its got me beyond stoked for the full album. Well done, Richmond.

 

 Strike Anywhere - Hand of Glory: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Buy the EP in vinyl or digital format from Bridge 9’s store and keep an eye out for the full-length, out October 6th or something.

Pat entries Bridge 9 Records, Iron Front, punk rock, Strike Anywhere