Broad strokes
I think I’m getting ready to declare the eastern bits of Canada this year’s Next Big Scene. Montreal, Toronto, and Vancouver have had their turns; heck, even Saskatchewan has had a few bands gaining steam lately. But the Ocean-adjacent provinces on the right coast are striking with fervor in 2009. We already had Joel Plaskett drop a rock-bomb on us in the form of his three-disc tour de force; singer-songwriter Jenn Grant has gotten a lot of attention and adoration for her newest album, and Two Hours Traffic will follow-up their Polaris-nominated debut long-player in a few weeks time.
But today we’re talking about Nova Scotia’s Share, a band that has every right to stand alongside those artists. I have a precipitous feeling they might get passed by, however, and I don’t like the thought.
Slumping In Your Murals is a studious, deliberate collection of songs that have a gentle tenor, a restrained and lovely atmosphere that betrays some murky emotions. The most immediate comparison that comes to mind is the churning misery of the National’s Boxer, the moody feel of that album’s back half reflected starkly in Andrew Sisk’s sombre writing.
Sisk calls this album the first Share effort that can truly be credited to a full band, having released three previous records as more of a solo project. That lone wolf aesthetic remains on a couple of the tracks here when Sisk is accompanied by little more than a ukelele (”Maybe Always” featuring Jenn Grant, “Lights Overhead”) and some ethereal slide guitar, which comes courtesy of Sailhouse’s Mike Feuerstack. Synthesized string and piano creep into the back end of “Maybe Always.” The songs sound like they’re being performed in a vacuum, the loneliness and isolation of the lyrics surrounded by the sound of hopelessess.
Those tracks are countered by the first two cuts on the album, which are the brightest and most uptempo of the bunch. Share go full rock band here, a similar beat and chord structure serving as a bridge between the two songs. The electric guitars, while distorted, are not overpowering or terribly overdriven, providing an even tapestry of sound. The otherwise bright mix boasts a pretty, ethereal lead guitar that floats in and out of the background on “Broader,” the cooing back-up vocals in the insistent chorus adding further texture. This is as close as the band gets to letting loose for most of the album, the muscular drums and sharply-strummed chords resonating behind the solo in a truly Boxer-ish fashion.
The remainder of Slumping In Your Murals is a quieter, more subdued affair to be certain, striking a middle ground between Hayden’s downtrodden worldview and the deliberate and persistent arrangements of groups like the Walkmen and the National.
The music is always sparse, but lovely; many tracks feature tweaked, atmospheric lead guitar that lends a somewhat spacey tone to some tenuous, almost bridled arrangements. Reverb-soaked guitars churn in the mix, lilting vocal harmonies, and occasional ukelele accompaniment prop up the patient tempo of songs like “Fish Out Of Water” while the band slowly builds to a heady, furious release on “KC.” That sets up the ominous bass and floor toms of the closing track, which is lent further murkiness due to what is either an odd-sounding accordian or a curiously-distorted guitar.
Lyrically the album strikes a pretty uniformly miserable impression. These songs talk a lot about lost love or the possibility of experiencing it, of a sense of futility in trying to make it work, of the important things we all fail to notice, about the hit people take when their expectations are thoroughly dashed. In the midst of that Sisk also manages to use rodeo as a metaphor for love in a much more elegant way than I ever would’ve thought possible.
It’s a moody, engaging listen to be sure, not the kind of album one would throw on when the sun is shining and birds are singing. Still, it is hard not to feel a connection to the metaphors and allegories used by Sisk in his songwriting and the emotional tenor of the arrangements is a mature balance of isolation, misery, and beauty. While its lyrical content might betray it, there is a significant amount of accomplishment here and a helping of potential to grow as well.
Share - Horse & Rider: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download Share - Penmaship [3:28m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | DownloadBuy buy buy from Zunior in the digital form or Sonic Unyon. Physical copies should be coming soon, release date is today!
