Sound Salvation Army

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

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

Ah, the stop-gap EP. Such a convenient way for a band to capitalize on some momentum, to strike while the iron is hot and keep material flowing to an expanding audience.

This is one of those.

You’ll recall I named the Wheat Pool’s Hauntario my favourite album of 2009, and for good reason. It’s a prairie rock/alt-country masterpiece that is fraught with tension and emotion, an impeccably-performed set of intricately-arranged songs that resonate on every wavelength. It’s just so good, you guys.

Some of that magic crosses over to this EP, thanks to the fact that most of these tracks were recorded during the album sessions. In fact, one of the highlights is an alternate version of Hauntario standout “Evangeline” that strips away all of the tension and bombastic instrumentation save a slowly-plucked acoustic guitar and the Angus brothers’ harmonies. It wisely runs little more than half the length of the LP version, serving as a minimal yet ghostly bit of storytelling.

Alternate versions are apparently something the Wheat Pool toyed with at length while recording the LP. You’ll recall the rollicking “Too Far Apart” was reprised as the much quieter, more contemplative, more mournful “Two Far Apart” to end Hauntario. While that was absolutely the right call they apparently dropped the track “Edith Cavell” to do it. Its jaunty acoustic strumming and far-off slide guitar recall the LP’s high-water mark, “Italy,” but leaving it off the album proper was probably the right decision; it’s brevity and preciousness likely would have contrasted with the rest of the record.

The linchpin for the release is a cover of Neil Young’s “Helpless.” Young is obviously the band’s chief influence and the track has been a popular live staple for the group, according to the EP’s one-sheet anyway. I suppose I see the logic to that, as they do a pretty terrific job with it, keeping it fairly close to Young’s original version with just the right mix of rock guitar leads, keyboard, and slide guitar. The brothers’ distinctive harmonies also help make it distinct. While the track may have been the impetus for the EP’s entire creation, including two different mixes seems superfluous and unnecessary; maybe I’m just too Canadian, but it seems like we’ve all heard this song enough already. I don’t think it will have the same kind of appeal over time as the other numbers.

Again, this is a stop-gap release; it’s only a couple of original songs, they’re all leftovers, and as such they only possess a microcosm of the magic that made Hauntario so perfect. Regardless, I’ve only had these songs for a day and a half and I am so grateful for it. If you haven’t been exposed to this band yet, $3.99 is a very small price to pay for your first taste of one of Canada’s great young bands.

 

 Wheat Pool - Helpless (Hauntario mix): Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

This bitch is digital-only, friends:
iTunes: here.
eMusic: here.
Get Hauntario and the debut album Township here.

Pat entries Canadian content, covers, EP, Hauntario, rock, Wheat Pool

Being a musician is an impossible, thankless task. Find popularity with a certain sound or element and you’re set for a while, at least; but after that it’s often a case of “damned if you do, damned if you don’t.” If you deviate from what gained you approval from your fans then you risk alienating your base, but if you stick with what you know works then you chance your sound getting stale and people becoming bored with you.

Against Me! has been dancing along the edge of that particular razor blade for the entirety of its career. Forged in the “no sell-outs allowed” Florida folk-punk scene, they’ve been dogged by massive criticism every time they try to grow their band, audience, or sound. They were called sell-outs when they added electric guitars on Reinventing Axl Rose; they got their tires slashed for signing to Fat Wreck Chords; and the punk world more or less imploded when they signed to a major label (after releasing a DVD documentary about being courted by major labels that ended with them asserting it would essentially never happen). Having some significant success with their first major label release put them in an even more awkward position; what’s the next brass ring to grab for?

The immediate answer is arenas. It’s clear band leader Tom Gabel wants to make the group as big as possible, but for the first time in his career there seems to be some tangible growing pains involved in the process. Listening to White Crosses I feel like I’m being pulled in two different directions: on one side is the Gabel that has made no bones about his ambition to play music for a living and actually make some real money doing it and on the other is the now-antiquated vision of the young firebrand whose frenzied, acoustic-based folk-punk lit the underground on fire with scathing songs made of napalm, piss, and vinegar.

Gabel isn’t completely de-clawed on this record, but he’s definitely had his nails trimmed. He sets his sights most fiercely on himself on first single, “I Was A Teenage Anarchist,” an admission that his earlier years spent rabble-rousing in frustrated ideology were all but wasted. “High-Pressure Low” casts the United States’ current hopeless (in Gabel’s opinion), fractured state against that of the 1960’s, drawing comparisons between the Iraq and Afghanistan wars with the Bay of Pigs and, presumably, Vietnam. He outlines the campaign of misinformation that surrounded that incident and then-Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara’s eventual realization that, in Gabel’s words, “there was a mistake in going to war without first asking all the questions.” The obvious parallel is the insistence of the Bush administration that WMD’s were all over Iraq; to say the least, Gabel is concerned that his country is mired in dark times parallel to those that followed the Bay of Pigs.

For me this track might be the most striking on the album, if only for what it represents. Lyrically it serves as a bridge between what Against Me! used to be and their current arena-punk ambitions. While several songs on this album lead up to toothless sloganeering (”I have no judgement for you/come on and ache with me” on the track that follows it; the refrain of “White crosses on church lawns/I want to smash them all” on the opening cut is thrown out to the listener without giving the context: a church Gabel lives near that displays a white cross for every fetus estimated to be aborted in a day throughout the U.S.) this is a song that has some genuine thought behind it, but unfortunately it’s also one of the most bland musically they’ve produced. It’s a very pop-rock/radio rock backing track, years and miles away from the furious strumming of Reinventing Axl Rose. It’s one of several arching volleys for wider appeal offered up here.

Another highlight is the next track, “Ache With Me.” While the chorus seems kind of like a cop-out from an aging punk rocker, it’s musically brilliant. Gabel channels every Dylan-ism he’s ever felt (and there have been many) and produces an acoustic track equally as engaging as the cover of “Wagon Wheels” he recorded for a compilation five or six years ago, which has long been one of my absolute favourite Against Me! numbers. Better, perhaps, as the rest of the band offers some understated accompaniment that outlines the desperation of the lyric. The same goes for the mid-tempo closer, “Bamboo Bones.” Limber guitar lines and an inspirational one-line chorus, combined with one of Gabel’s most vivid vocal performances to date, close out the album proper in fine fashion. Also a treat is the splashy cymbal work from Hot Water Music drummer George Rebelo, an incredibly talented player who too often fades into the background without showing what he’s really capable of.

From there things sort of dwindle. “The Shame” is a very moving track lyrically, an ode do a dead lover that also sees Gabel condemn himself for his inability to cope with loss. The words and vocals are plainly-stated but weighty in a way few musicians are capable of, which makes it kind of a shame that the music is little more than the Springsteen-aping that has become so prevalent in a lot of independent music of late. “Breaking Up” comes off as a rote number as uninspired as its title, likely the most overt attempt to get the band onto teenager’s mix tapes. I’m not saying Gabel can’t or shouldn’t write a song about lost love. He’s already written one of the most perfect ones ever (”Pints Of Guinness Make You Strong”), but inspiration counts for a lot when you’re tackling the most prevalent topic in all of song. “Spanish Moss” could be the track most likely to cross over to mainstream rock radio, but if you’re reading this website you probably agree that isn’t a good thing. Four b-sides were tacked onto the CD version after a low-quality album leak hit the internet roughly six weeks before the release date but they’re mostly unremarkable (although the seemingly stream-of-consciousness descriptions in “Bob Dylan Dream” might say more about Gabel and where he’s at these days than any of the other accumulated tracks).

In the end I’m ashamed to say it but I get the sense that I’d like this album a whole lot more if it wasn’t done by Against Me! I feel like it’s kind of a shitty thing to say, but I can’t really help it. This is a band that has exuded so much fury and passion over its career that it just feels wrong to have the edges sanded off in favour of Butch Vig’s antiseptic, pristine production. Anything that doesn’t fit with popular music is gone, right down to James Bowman’s distinctive backing vocals. They’ve either been banished or are buried so far under the severely multi-tracked Gabel as to be indistinguishable. It feels like a band that has done its own thing for so long is trying to force itself into a box that just wasn’t made for them.

But I don’t hate the album. It just isn’t what I expected from this band. I think what strikes me as most disappointing was that tracks like “White People For Peace” from their last record still had danger to them, a tenor that just isn’t present here. Moreover, the fact that New Wave ended with a track as brave and different as the phenomenal “Ocean” seemed to promise more growth and excitement in the future. To see them retreat to the blandishments of radio-ready rock and roll can’t help but feel like a step in the wrong direction.

 

 Against Me! - White Crosses [3:36m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Against Me! - Bamboo Bones [3:35m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Dig on Against Me! material from their web store, No Idea Records’ web store and distro, or iTunes. Make it count.

Pat entries Against Me!, ch-ch-ch-changes, new-school, pop rock, rock

Would you like to hear what joy sounds like?

If you’ve never heard Jonathan Richman’s music then I feel sorry for you. You’re truly missing out on an important part of life, namely unadulterated enthusiasm, joy, and love of life. Of course, I’m being somewhat selective when I say that. He’s a well-rounded artist, but goddamnit do I ever prefer his buoyant tunes.

For the last several months I’ve listened to little else than a mix tape of songs from throughout Richman’s post-Modern Lovers solo career that focus on the positive: songs of love and joy. From the youthful exuberance of songs like “I Have Come Out To Play” (”Gonna ride my bike past the root beer stand/purple squirt gun in my hand and I’m here to stay/oh mommy, oh mommy, I can’t eat no more/Gonna run outside that open door and I am here to stay”) to the simply-stated messages of love like “Everyday Clothes” (”I loved her, yeah I loved her, cuz that’s the way it goes/and I couldn’t have loved her more in just her plain old everyday clothes”) and “It’s You” (”Well now, you’re looking while I’m watching different girls passing by/Don’t you know that I couldn’t lose this love even if I tried?”) it’s a mix designed to make you smile your balls off.

For goodness’ sake, the guy even wrote the world’s only (good) love song to Wrangler jeans.

I’ll admit my knowledge of Richman’s greater catalogue is limited to much of the singles released during his solo career in the 80’s and the Modern Lovers material. But there’s so much to love it’s kind of hard to see that as a bad thing. His love of dancing, odes to the bank teller he has a crush on or the prospective paramour he meets on the street, his ancestral home land of New England, the wistful memories of summer days lived and lost…his songs are simply-executed stories of life and what it means to live and love. His solo career took a step back from the overt rock of the Modern Lovers; where most rockers seek to turn the amps to 11, he always seemed to pursue the gentlest, quietest, most understated sounds he could get. The songs are still rooted in basic American rock tropes but they’re undeniably his own style.

There is some irony in this entry; I’ve failed to simply state what is so engaging about music that is simply-written but endlessly engaging. Perhaps simpler still:

If you recall about seven or eight months back I was feeling pretty miserable and sorry for myself. Having been on the dumped end of a long-term relationship I was not engaging in very healthy behaviours. But true story: I heard someone play “Everyday Clothes” on a local community radio show one Saturday afternoon and it jarred me back to reality. Sometimes you just need a gentle reminder that there is a sunnier side to life that is worth keeping your head above water for.

I’ve found that to be truer than ever in recent months. I’ve moved on, I rebounded, and now I’ve started dating the prettiest little redhead I’ve ever seen. It’s impossible not to think of her incredible smile, the majesty with which she wears someone else’s cross-country sweatshirt, the sparkle in her constantly-changing green eyes when I hear these songs.

Anyhow, it’s weird to think that Jonathan Richman is almost sixty now. The overwhelming tone of perpetual youth and innocence in his music seems to contradict that fact. I expect his youthful enthusiasm will persist, regardless of his age or the age of his songs. They sound pretty timeless to me, anyway.

 

 Jonathan Richman - It's You [3:28m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Jonathan Richman - Everyday Clothes [3:04m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Jonathan Richman - I'm Just Beginning To Live [2:49m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Jonathan Richman - the New Bank Teller [1:40m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Buy his albums through Vapour Records. He apparently doesn’t participate in the internet on any level, but hopefully someone tells him a dude in Saskatchewan loves him.

Pat entries acoustic, Jonathan Richman, legends, smiling