Sound Salvation Army

Standards are the bread and butter of the jazz world. Generally defined as compositions that are “held in continuing esteem and commonly used as the basis of jazz arrangements and improvisations,” tracks like “Bewitched,” “I’ve Got You Under My Skin,” “The Lady Is a Tramp,” “My Funny Valentine,” and “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” are instantly recognizable. But they’re also malleable, a familiar canvas that every artist can transform just enough to plant their own signature on them, almost giving the listener a baseline expectation by which to gauge someone they’re hearing for the first time.

You know you’ve found a singer that’s truly special when they’re capable of absolutely murdering a standard but they don’t need them to get your attention.

Melanie Hankewich is one of those singers. She’s been making a name for herself in Regina the last couple of years, performing under the moniker of Belle Plaine. You can expect her profile to grow by leaps and bounds in 2012 on the back of her stunning first full-length album. Notes From A Waitress was released last Friday with a very special show at the beautiful Artesian on 13th Avenue. AND I WAS THERE, YOU GUYS.

From the moment she stepped on the stage with a special backing band that, at times, numbered as many as half a dozen (including trumpet player Cheney “Thunderclap” Lambert from the Pile O’ Bones Brass Band and vocalist Anna Rose) Plaine had a firm grasp on the sold-out and packed-in audience. Wearing the black and white polka dot dress seen on the cover of the album, she took some time to welcome the crowd before launching into a set of mostly-original material.

Most of Hankewich’s press tends to focus on her voice, and rightly so; she took classical voice lessons as a kid and studied jazz at the well-regarded Grant McEwan University in Edmonton. Her voice sounds timeless, somehow equally sultry, seductive, fragile, and dusky while still capable of room-filling bombast when the moment calls for it. One gets the sense that she could sing anything and she proved it last Friday by effortlessly switching from the jazz-pop numbers on Waitress to the folk-based songs on her preceding EP. It’s not so much that her voice changes in any way to suit those styles, more that she has the strength, control, and natural tone to make it almost universal in its application. To borrow an old cliche: she could sing the phone book and The Artesian would still be standing-room only.

But Hankewich doesn’t need to. She and co-writer/pianist Jeremy Sauer collaborated on much of the songs on the new record, if not all of them, crafting unique takes on timeless jazz and sepia-toned lullabies about far-away lands. In fact many of the songs on the record are directly inspired by locales of varying degrees of exoticness from around the world (the mid-record trio of “Port Angeles,” “Vegas,” and “Waikiki” being the most overt examples). During the release show Hankewich also provided some excellent background information on their lyrical origins, like how she found a scrap of paper in Las Vegas with a few lines of poetry scrawled on them and incorporated them into a forlorn remembrance of how bleak reality can turn expectation on its head in Sin City. Or how her time spent in Victoria informed the dourly-beautiful “Port Angeles,” a song that’s roughly as beautiful as anything you’ve heard before. But as well-crafted as her lyrics may be it’s when she sings on the latter that “There’s some things you see approaching but life just doesn’t always turn out the way you wanted it to,” that you get a sense of how far her voice can take you. Her wounded, emotive performance explains exactly how the relationship between the song’s undefined subject and a blind cook’s son from the east coast ended, even though her words don’t. Sauer picks apart the song’s minor chords and creates an upper-range piano melody that is as patient as it is heartbreaking, the individual notes twinkling as brightly as the lights flickering on the water’s edge in Hankewich’s memory and/or imagination.

The closing trio of songs also provide an unexpected but endlessly-pleasant surprise for me personally. The songs were written by Hankewich and Sauer when they put together a show for Regina’s Globe Theatre called The Unforseen Journey Of Nathaniel Dunbar And Other Tales Of Whimsical Sadness. One of the most unique and engaging performances I’ve seen at the Globe in my time, the cabaret-style concert performance accompanied a combination of animation, slide show, and video that told Dunbar’s tragic tale while the band waltzed it’s way into my heart. I can’t even describe what it was like but I’m absolutely thrilled that the two decided to include a few songs from that show on the album, especially the wistful rainy-day ballad “Legendary.” As reminiscent of Patsy Cline’s tear-jerkers as it is any jazz number, the ukulele helps a painful romantic memory seem a little sweeter. It’s a true classic and, along with any number of songs on the new CD, a serious contender to become a new standard.

Which brings me back to standards. Oh, those standards. None of the classics appear on Waitress but there are some that have been made staples of a Belle Plaine set. The most memorable one from Friday’s show is a captivating take on “Fever” (originally performed by Little Willie John but made famous by Peggy Lee) which features only Hankewich’s sultry singing and Elizabeth Curry’s lithe bass. The two have been playing together for years and their timing is perfect, their performances seamlessly intertwined, Curry watching Hakewich intently to get the timing just right as she plunks out a deft and dynamic solo that leaves the crowd clamoring for more. A fantastic rendering of “My Funny Valentine” also popped up, though Hankewich wasn’t really a part of it. She introduced the number and let Sauer and Lambert take over, the piano providing the backbone while Cheney layered on some brassy bombast.

That moment was essentially a space-filler, giving Hankewich some time to run backstage for a costume change. But it’s also evidence of how smart she is in her efforts to make a go of a music career. Both in the studio and on the stage she makes sure that she’s surrounded by collaborators that have an innate understanding of what her songs need. Curry’s bassline is an essential part of a song like “Swamp Lullaby,” such an integral part of the composition it simply couldn’t be the same without it; Sauer has enough chops for a five-star kitchen and has clearly played a huge part in forming Hankewich’s sound. She’s also recorded and toured with Regina’s hidden gems, The Lazy MKs, the group that helped realize the folk-country sound of her previous EP. She seems to be less a solo artist than she is a ringmaster, someone who recognizes the talent of those around her and ensures they also get to stand in the spotlight even as they help make hers burn brighter.

Hankewich gave herself until this spring to try and make it as a musician. With 3,000 copies of Notes From A Waitress to get rid of I doubt she’ll be calling it quits any time soon. Here’s hoping she doesn’t; this gal is possessed of a truly world-class voice and she knows how to use it. She has a specific musical vision that truly stands out in the modern music industry and a stable of friends and collaborators to make it a reality. If Belle Plaine doesn’t put Regina on the map I don’t know what will.

 

 Belle Plaine - Port Angeles [3:07m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Belle Plaine - Advice From A Vicar [4:06m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

You can buy Belle Plaine’s music from Bandcamp, both physical and digital, because she’ll make more money that way. Her site also offers a few other choices.

Here are the tour dates. You can find more show details at Belle Plaine’s web site.
February 3 Biggar, SK
February 4 Saskatoon, SK
February 11 Regina, SK
February 23 Regina, SK
June 8 Sudbury, ON
June 16 Montreal, QC

Pat entries Belle Plaine, Canadian content, country, folk, jazz, live music, Regina, standards instant classics

The motivation behind a solo record is different for every artist who splinters off from the confines of their established band to go it alone. Radiohead’s Thom Yorke felt there wasn’t enough jittery, spastic electronic music in the world; Edwin left I Mother Earth to make sure teenage girls had enough schmaltzy life-affirming MAPL-eligible anthems.

As far as I can tell John K. Samson hasn’t really stated publicly his own reasons for leaving his bandmates in The Weakerthans and going solo (the group hasn’t been entirely dormant in the four years since they released their last album; they recorded the resplendent Falcon Lake Incident with Jim Bryson in the interim). When he began releasing what was originally described as a “series” of 7″ EPs in 2009 they were described as sets of songs inspired by prominent roads in Manitoba (City Route 85 is Portage Avenue, one of the main roads through Winnipeg). That source of inspiration carries through to Provincial, Samson’s first solo long-player — especially the half-dozen songs that were already released on those 7″ singles. But he’s also finding more to write about in the land and people that dwell within those grids and highways.

Provincial is the very definition of a concept album, structured in a very rigidly-thematic way that actually becomes somewhat detrimental. Because the songs are so anchored in the actual, physical space of Manitoba “Highway 1 East” and “Highway 1 West” serve as the entry and exit points of the record with the songs in between tied to specific locales and regions. While it makes perfect sense on paper it also makes the sequencing a bit jarring, as some stretches of songs don’t flow well or transition smoothly from one to the next. A minor quibble, but one that could potentially take the listener out of the moment if they aren’t invested in the artist or the larger idea.

Sequencing aside the songs collected here are typical Samson: evocative, emotionally rich, and detail-oriented.

As mentioned “Highway 1 East” is the entrance music, of sorts, echoing tracks like “(Manifesto)” from Reconstruction Site in it’s brief, almost introduction-like length. Instead of the galloping drums or bursting horns it has a much quieter arrangement of muted brass and distant guitar that carry an absolutely beautiful minor key melody through a brief 84 seconds to a surprisingly abrupt end. There’s virtually no indication that the song is over until the next begins, the last note left hanging as the listener waits for another to arrive. It’s awkward and almost feels unfinished.

The remainder of the songs generally fall into two categories that will be familiar to fans of The Weakerthans: gentler finger-picked acoustic numbers and “Aside”-style rockers. Previously-released “Heart Of The Continent” is in the former category, the cadence of its guitar work very reminiscent of “One Great City,” “Psalm For The Elk’s Lodge Last Call,” or even “Left and Leaving.” “Letter In Icelandic From Ninette San” and “Stop Error” are similarly structured. “Longitudinal Centre” is a full-out rocker that features some of the gnarliest guitar tone of Samson’s career and “Highway 1 West” has crunchy power chords and HUGE, stomping drums that cannot be denied.

“The Last And” is the highlight for me, a brilliant divergence from expectation. The bulk of the re-recorded song is built from brushed drums, double-bass that’s as slow and robust as molasses, piano, cello and plucked strings (maybe even ukulele). The song sees Samson writing from the presumably-female perspective of a teacher spending some lonesome free time at school. The last lines of the song reveal she’s pining after another faculty member, maybe even the principal, that she’s apparently had an affair with. “Sometimes in the staff room I catch your eye,” he softly sighs. “But why’d it have to end? I know from how you worry at your wedding band that I’m just your little ampersand.” It’s the kind of story-song Samson is so adept at, singing about emotions that have been sung about a million times before in a wholly unique way. Using language as a metaphor or a tableau from a school lunch room fixes the story in a direct way to a real, relatable world that we have all experienced before.

That’s the genius of Samson as a songwriter: he’s primarily a gifted storyteller who also knows how to create a captivating melody. He understands that the devil is in the details and he makes sure there’s no shortage of them. At the same time, however, he’s conscientious about overburdening the listener and deftly chooses the language or imagery that provides the most impactful emotional connection.

Consider “Cruise Night” and its vivid retelling of weekends spent as a teenager cruising the main drag; it’s inspired by Winnipeg’s Portage Avenue but it’s also about Regina’s Albert Street and every other prairie town where kids fought boredom by wasting fossil fuels, only stopping to turn in the other direction or pick a soda up from the Dairy Queen. Less universal but equally vivid are songs like “Heart Of The Continent,” which describes the oppressive conditions of the more desolate and Arctic parts of the province, and “Letter In Icelandic From Ninette San,” one of two songs that centers around Manitoba’s Ninette Sanitarium. It is a now-abandoned tuberculosis hospital that is credited with doing much of the work that would eventually help end the persistent spread of TB. Samson is concerned with telling the story from the inside, chronicling the grim acceptance of eventual death and perpetual agony of a patient confined to the hospital. “In another year I’ll be buried or shivering here, coughing at the grey spittoon painted orange by the harvest moon….Go stand up straight in the place you’re longing for and don’t write to me anymore,” the protagonist insists in his last letter home.

As melodically rich as these songs are Samson’s work always proves most rewarding to those that are willing to dig deeper into the meaning of the songs. Provincial is no exception. His obsession with roads, how they both feed and siphon prairie communities and inform every step of their resident’s lives from birth to death, is poignant at a time when rural populations are dwindling and urban centers are almost uniformly proving that they’re unsure or unable to deal with the inevitable growth that comes along with those shifting demographics. It’s simultaneously timely and timeless, a collection of stories that express the universality of the human experience despite the fact that they’re intensely specific, even provincial, in nature (pardon the pun).

Perhaps more importantly: as terrific as the record is it also gives fans hope for the future. Regardless of the reasons for Samson going solo he’s proven that he’s more than capable when left to his own devices. The sonics of Provincial run parallel enough to the group’s work that, should the unfortunate day come when The Weakerthans’ disband, we can rest easy knowing that the architect of their sound will still be able to provide us a sufficient approximation in it’s wake.

 

 John K. Samson - The Last And: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Samson music, merch, and copies of his upcoming book can be found through Anti-Records’ on-line store or the venerable iTunes. Canadian tour dates are listed below!

3/7 Kingston, ON at The Grad Club
3/8 Ottawa, ON at Mavericks Bar
3/9 Montreal, QC at La Sala Rossa
3/18 Hamilton, ON at The Casbah
3/20 London, ON at The Aeolian Hall
3/21 Guelph, ON at E-Bar
3/22 Toronto, ON at Great Hall
3/27 Winnipeg, MB at West End Cultural Centre
3/28 Regina, SK at The Exchange
3/29 Edmonton, AB at The Royal Alberta Museum Theater
3/31 Vancouver, BC at The Biltmore
4/13 Calgary, AB at The Palomino
4/12 Kamloops, BC at Hero’s Pub
4/14 Saskatoon, SK at Amigos Cantina

Pat entries acoustic, Anti- Records, Canadian content, Epitaph Records, indie folk, indie rock, John K. Samson, Manitoba, rock, the Weakerthans

This is one of those posts that’s equal parts encouraging and a total bummer.

This week SSA-favourites O Pioneers!!! announced their impending break-up. That is the absolute worst, you guys!

I’ve written about O Pioneers!!! as much or possibly more than any other group on this site, frankly. Part of the reason is that I completely fucking enjoy just about everything they’ve ever done but part of it is also that I feel a compulsion to try and make YOU enjoy them.

You can read the previous posts linked above to get a sense of what the band was about but what I’ve got for you today is a microcosm of their work, the cream of Eric Solomon’s brain crop if you will. These are my absolute favorite half-dozen of his songs; it’s a taste of what you’ll get if you participate in Solomon’s final big move. He’s posted what is literally the band’s entire recorded output (aside from four songs; thankfully I have those four songs) onto Canada’s premium on-line punk purveyor, Juicebox as a pay-what-you-want download. It’s mammoth and essential for people who need three live versions of moderately rare 7″ b-sides. In addition to a few short live sets it also features demo recordings of at least one unreleased track. Previously unknown gems!

Now it’s worth noting that these songs are very different from the first to the last. The top-most songs are among the last Solomon recorded, backed (at least in part) by Toronto’s Junior Battles. They have a much more melodic, almost pop sound to them. If you go down to the bottom you’ll find material recorded when O Pioneers!!! was a two-piece characterized as “folk punk” (which in my mind the band has NEVER been; they just liked early Against Me! is all). It’s a big swing.

Make sure you check out as much or as little of this material as you want, but also ensure that you keep your eyes peeled for his next project: Black Clouds (an excruciatingly-appropriate name for Solomon’s typical lyrical content, frankly).

So thanks to Eric for the past and future music. I can’t wait to see what comes next.

 

 Standard Podcast: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 O Pioneers!!! - Broken Records: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 O Pioneers!!! - Summers In Necro Norway With Spider Ryan: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 O Pioneers!!! - The Adventures Of John Locke: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 O Pioneers!!! - Remember That Part In "Superman III"...: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 O Pioneers!!! - The Weather Underground: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Buy their latest album! Or their old albums! Or a cassette! Or the iTunes! Throw the dude some business if you need some fine silk-screening done. His crew is great. I have t-shirts and album covers they made to glow in the dark.

Pat entries break-ups, Eric Solomon, eulogies, in memoriam, O Pioneers!!!, parting shots, punk rock

I am not the target audience for remixes.

I freely admit that. There’s just something about them that generally irks me. It can most likely be chalked up to hearing too many rote, bland, predictable cut-and-paste techno overdubs masquerading as remixes. When punk bands like Face To Face have their songs techno-fied for the Mortal Kombat soundtrack there’s no real reason or need to listen to it; it’s clearly just novelty for novelty’s sake.

Rah Rah may be a different beast, however. The band’s anything-goes attitude and upbeat, undeniably energetic spirit makes them just the kind of band that would happily open themselves up to a full-fleged remix experiment and expect the results to be nothing but fantastic.

Call it my remix bias but that’s expecting too much. There are definitely plenty of tracks that offer genuine, thorough re-imaginings here, even if others prove to be less effective. That is, of course, being examined through the lens of comparison, measuring the original number against the final product.

Look at “Henry” for example. The peppy, energetic single with a brilliant video is one of the stand-out tracks on the Breaking Hearts full-length. The remix by Toronto’s Rich Kidd entirely strips away the galloping drums, replacing them with a loping beat and synthesized hand claps that create a relaxed slow-jam feel. Some cooing background vocals and the band’s urging for the titular character to “lock that shit down” are repurposed from the brief bridge, becoming a near-constant refrain that takes on a sultry new life when interwoven with some intimate lounge piano. Kidd himself drops in for a guest verse, adding some pretty adorable hip hop into the mix, referencing his lunch and his “tummy crunches” before “Canada is running this bitch.” It’s really adorable, just like Rah Rah’s original material! The remix is a complete 180 degree turn but without sacrificing the spirit of the original — it’s exactly what I was hoping for.

On the other side of the spectrum is “Fuck NAFTA.” Produced by a fellow Reginan (”beatsmith” Merky Waters) the track leaves Marshall Burns’ vocals more or less untouched, along with some of the guitar parts. The drums and bass are swapped out, replaced with similarly-paced but altered drums and beefier bass. Some DJ scratching is overdubbed as well but on the whole it’s not a drastic shift. Still, it’s impactful; the song seems less successful as a low-tempo jam than it did in the original, almost making it sound like Burns is on valium. The energy and anger of the song is damaged if not lost entirely.

It is nice to see Rah Rah include some of their local pals in the process. The always-sharp Kitchen Party gives a nice 8-bit keyboard feel to the Breaking Hearts‘ frantic opener “Arrows,” taking away the frenetic pace but retaining the energy. He also lends “Towers” (from The Sailors EP) an early-pop feel thanks to a hand-clap heavy reworking that puts the focus on Burns’ vocal melody and the accompanying harmony. The syth instrumentation is decidedly upbeat despite the song’s beautiful minor-key tone. Kitchen Party’s contribution also includes a simply gorgeous take on “Chimneys” (another Sailors cut) that offers a variety of sampled and synthesized percussion that doesn’t overwhelm the lovely piano samples that provide the song’s biggest melodic element, blending and contrasting with swirling atmospheric tones.

The biggest disappointment for me is probably Cadence Weapon’s take on the sprightly and charming “What About Love.” Rollie Pemberton’s reworking has quite literally the opposite feel of the original, which was a short blast of absolute adorable-ness, a playfully piano- and guitar-driven number with uncertain, fragile, chirping vocals opining on love in what could be a series of Facebook status updates. But Cadence Weapon’s take is dark, plodding, bleak, almost dangerous-sounding, at least until a single synth tone comes in and repeats over and over and over. The vocals are spare and pushed deep in the mix, creating a cold and unfeeling number from source material that is anything but.

In the end, Rahmixes is a remix album. Anyone who has heard a remix album before likely has a pretty fair expectation of what they’re going to get. That fact makes reviewing the record seem futile at best; there’s a vast number of people who will have the literal opposite reaction to most of or perhaps all of the music here. I have a feeling the Kitchen Party tracks stand out for me because they keep the vocal elements of the original tracks consistent; there’s no chopping up the lyrics, no parsing out a single phrase and repeating it ad nauseum. The songs’ lyrical intent remains intact and it helps the song feel whole, as though there’s a deeper meaning than just inspiring a dance floor booty-quake. But for someone who comes to this album in the hopes that they’ll find exactly that will be inversely disappointed.

So obviously it’s hard to offer a fair assessment of the larger product here. If we’re being honest this will never be the first Rah Rah album I reach for — and there is absolutely no way the band intends for it to be. If that was the case their original songs would be comprised entirely of 808s and Casios instead of being crafted using a variety of more-traditional instruments.

As I mentioned earlier, remixes of rock and roll songs are almost universally exercises in curiosity (and novelty songs are almost never someone’s favourite songs). In the end I’m a big fan of Rah Rah’s original material so if this helps them gain more fans I’m all for it. At the very least it’s worth a listen for other fans to see how they react to the altered tracks. But I’ll still be waiting for the next “proper” record.

 

 Rah Rah - Henry: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Rah Rah - Henry (Rich Kidd remix): Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Rah Rah - Fuck NAFTA: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Rah Rah - Fuck NAFTA (Merky Waters remix): Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

You can find Rahmixes through iTunes or, eventually I’m sure, through Hidden Pony Records.

Pat entries Canadian content, electronic, pop music, projects, Rah Rah, Regina, remixes

Said The Whale could be coasting right now. Coming off a phenomenally well-received full-length album in 2009 the BC band has been pushing through several cross-Canada tours, dropped into the States for an extensive sojourn that included an appearance at SXSW, and won a Juno for New Group Of The Year. And while it hasn’t been without it’s low points, that’s a pretty good year or two, you guys!

Regardless, it appears the band’s creative streak is also in full effect. Today marks the release of a new EP called New Brighton, the precursor to another full-length album set to come out in the new year. In just four songs it’s readily apparent they’re moving on to bigger and better things. Things being songs.

“Camilo (The Magician)” was the break-out single from their first record, Islands Disappear, but I always felt like “Out On The Shield” was a better representation of what Said The Whale is capable of. In under three minutes it speaks to Canadian geography, the legacy of remote territories, and the workers and jobs that are tied to them. It also does it with a brisk tempo, upbeat choral vocals, and a flawless, cascading melody. It’s all the band’s potential rolled into one.

New Brighton succeeds because it parses out each of the elements that made that song work, puts them into four new songs, and expands on them.

Single “Lines” boasts a terrifically bouncy backbeat, driving along a pure pop melody that is brilliantly reinforced with jaunty keyboards. Call it a power-pop number with a little less power, the cooing “ooh-la-la-la” background vocals reminiscent of a purer era of pop music that feels right at home alongside the group’s modern sound. The gentle grace of the song dovetails delightfully with the EP’s closer, “Little Bird.” It’s a slow and easy folk song comprised of a patiently-strummed acoustic guitar, strings, and the band’s beloved glockenspiel that gives the brief album a sense of finality that brings the whole package to a close.

In my mind though the money track here is “Sandy Bay Fishing Song,” a song that echoes “Out On The Shield”’s Canadiana storytelling, a title that technically could refer to specific locations in Saskatchewan or Manitoba but, I’m sure, actually pertains to Nova Scotia. The actual setting of the song itself appears to be Halkett Bay in BC, which would be closer to the band’s Vancouver home. Regardless, it’s a virtuosic tale of a young man kissing his mother goodbye and venturing out under the cover of dark to go after the sea’s largest catchable foes, carrying on a legacy created by his father. It’s a tale that anyone who’s ever worked a rod and reel can relate to but it’s rendered as high-drama thanks to a heavily-percussive arrangement filled with calculating drum fills, punctuated guitar stabs, and some slinky bass slides. The vocals on the chorus also soar to nearly rhapsodic heights, particularly leading into a brilliant beat-shifting bridge.

In my mind, while all the songs of New Brighton are memorable in their own way, Said The Whale continues to be at it’s most effective when it’s capturing these tableaus of Canadiana, rendering them vivid as a vision and real as a spray of sea foam in the Howe Sound.

Here’s hoping with Little Mountain, a 15-song affair on the way in March, they continue to push that unique vision. If the track “Big Sky, MT” is any indication they might even be expanding it.

America should be so lucky.

 

 Said The Whale - Lines: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Said The Whale - Out On The Shield [2:56m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

New Brighton can be purchased through iTunes so far but I know there are CDs that exist because I got sent one in advance.

Pat entries Canadian content, EPs, Hidden Pony Records, indie rock, pop, rock, Said The Whale, teasers

Listen: I get why people don’t take William Shatner seriously when it comes to music. He’s got a new album coming out this week in North America and there’s been plenty of people making jokes in the last week or so.

And why shouldn’t they? Shatner made his mark on music decades ago with his unfortunate album The Transformed Man, which sought to contrast modern pop songs with spoken-word Shakesperean text. The tracks feature nightmarishly awkward readings on classic pop songs like “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” and “Mr. Tambourine Man.” Aside from Shatner’s vocals, they are generally unremarkable, straight-forward versions. But his trademark speak/sing performances are unnecessarily overdramatic and hackneyed, jumping the shark immediately into the waters of self-parody. The project was universally panned, though Shatner defended the experiment.

If you haven’t heard them follow the links above. Or, you can take George Clooney’s word for it. In an interview he once referenced The Transformed Man as one of his “desert island discs” (if you were stranded on a desert island and could only choose one record to listen to for the rest of your life…), saying:

“If you listen to [this song], you will hollow out your own leg and make a canoe out of it to get off this island.”

Yikes. But he’s sort of right. They’re so bad I would rather listen to Leonard Nimoy’s tribute to a certain adventurous hobbit.

But all that changed in 2004 when Shatner and piano rocker Ben Folds put out the album Has Been.

The collaboration with Folds is a powerful one. There are 11 original tracks here, spanning all genres. Folds and a small list of collaborators set engaging musical arrangements as a canvas for Shatner’s spoken word poems, a series of pieces that lay bare everything the man is and everything he feels he isn’t.

In a complete and utter contrast to The Transformed Man only one song here is a cover. The first song features Shatner and former New Wave superstar Joe Jackson taking on Pulp’s “Common People,” a song that puts Shatner into a more human, although economically inconsistent, bracket of society. He gives a spirited take on Jarvis Cocker’s timeless tale of a slumming trust fund princess and Jackson takes over when the vocal hooks are needed. It’s a high-energy opener that takes the tempo up a notch from the original. As fun as it is, however, it betrays the spirit of the rest of the album; a single was needed and it’s as good in that respect as it could be but it isn’t where Has Been’s real spirit lies.

“It hasn’t happened Yet” kicks off the meat of the record, a portrait of self-doubt that reveals how deeply unsure even an international superstar can feel. Despite decades of success across multiple fields Shatner starkly lays out his deepest doubts and fears against a back-drop of jazzy, minor key piano bar music. Barely whispering at times, Shatner bares his soul, admitting that he’s still looking for some of the most basic kinds of happiness or even contentment so many people take for granted. “That’s Me Trying” follows in a similar vein, with Shatner addressing a long-neglected daughter and admitting his shortfalls as a parent. Folds and Aimee Mann sing a tender chorus hook about “years of sadness” and coo background harmonies while Shatner admits he “doesn’t want to talk about the bad stuff,” just be pals and forget the pain of the past.

Mortality comes next. The far less somber “You’ll Have Time” insists that you won’t, really. It’s the old “dance like no one is watching” cautionary tale repackaged for Bill himself. “What Have You Done” is a dark, unaccompanied track where Shatner somberly recounts a woman’s drowning, pulling the bodies from the water. There’s no indication if this is fictional.

“Familiar Love” is a vaguely-humorous tale of domestic love, recounting a long life spent with a partner and lover. Shatner finds comfort, even excitement, in simple familiarity, discounting the pained awkwardness of one-night stands in the process. It’s a tender and touching moment of hope that is sorely needed after the last five tracks. “Ideal Woman” follows in an equally tender vein, albeit with a much more rock and roll backing track. Here he implores his lover to be herself, even if it means dancing on a table (well, maybe not on a table) and the occasional irrational temper tantrum (well, maybe not the temper tantrum).

Consider as well the title track, in which Shatner takes back the term “has been” by launching a dismissive attack against internet trolls that would seek to knock him down a peg. Set against a dusty spaghetti western tune, Shatner allows himself a moment of vengeance to try and correct people’s idea of who he really is as opposed to who they think he is. Taking back the power of such a put-down also allows him to look to the future and consider what lies ahead.

A personal favorite is the “duet” with Henry Rollins, a punk rock poetry slam about all the things that piss them off on a daily basis. It’s fun and furious, but not without a sense of humour. Shatner and Rollins are ideally paired, two men speaking passionately about the major and minor ills of the world from religion to gas prices to their kids saying “like” too much.

The closing track is perhaps the sweetest number on the whole record, coming from a very unexpected source. Brad Paisley is apparently a country music superstar these days but in 2004 he was still new to the scene. Lord only knows how and why he wrote a song specifically for William Shatner but he did and it’s a magnificent cap to the record. “Real” is a very straight-forward and gentle reading from Shatner where he lays it all on the line: yes, he admits, I’ve played a hero of space and time on the screen but I’m just a man like any other. The chorus vocal from Paisley lays the twang on a bit thick but he also injects the perfect amount of reluctance and regret into the lines, “I eat and sleep and breathe and feel/sorry to disappoint you, but I’m real.” It’s practically mind-blowing. I swear.

One gets the sense when listening to the record that motivation is everything. In my head, a greedy record executive in 1968 was looking to cash in on Shatner’s acting notoriety by exploitatively vaulting him into the recording business in a shameless money grab with no regard for the quality of product. With Folds’ it’s different; clearly no one expected anything from Shatner in a musical context but by embracing the idea of a serious product that actually had some introspection and consideration behind it they were able to deliver something that is completely engaging, human, and worthwhile.

I really doubt his upcoming album, Seeking Major Tom, will deliver the same thing. Folds doesn’t appear to be involved and it’s a double album that is entirely cover songs. I’m hoping for the best but I guess with Shatner you just never know what you’re going to get.

 

 William Shatner - Real: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 William Shatner - The Transformed Man [3:37m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Get Shatner’s various works from Amazon the dot com or iTunes dot whatever.

Make sure to listen to 91.3 fm CJTR’s Thursday Morning Show this week as well; we’ll be giving away five pairs of tickets to Shatner’s gig at Casino Regina on Friday night.

Pat entries Ben Folds, covers, international superstars, spoken word, television, William Shatner

So yeah, all other dramatics aside, I got to see Jonathan Richman last weekend! It was amazing, you guys!

For some reason I never really imagined I’d actually get to see him perform live. I guess I just expected that he wouldn’t tour extensively, and even if he did he’d never come anywhere near Regina. I was prepared to drive all the way to Winnipeg (on a school night no less!) just to see him, but the late addition of a show in Saskatoon last Saturday night proved to be the perfect scheduling for me and my special lady.

If you’re new to the site we’ve talked about Richman before. The former lead singer for The Modern Lovers, a proto-punk band that never actually got around to releasing a proper record (their debut LP was cobbled together from demos) but showed all the promise in the world. Their track “Roadrunner” is an often-covered gem of the era, for example. Richman broke up the group before too long, reforming a new band under the name of Jonathan Richman and The Modern Lovers and drastically altering his sound. His music became primarily acoustic in nature, his lyrics moving even further toward the youthful exuberance that is his defining nature. It also marked the beginning of a remarkably consistent songwriting career that saw him tiptoe into latin, middle easter, and French music while still retaining his signature sound.

Appropriately enough we got a taste of all of that at the Saskatoon show. Well, ALMOST all of that.

Richman is a delightful performer. Much has been made about his quest for quiet, his penchant for playing as softly as possible while still being heard. He made that explicit to the Saskatoon audience immediately, partially because the size of the performance space at The Refinery confused him. He said it was just the right size to need a PA system but also nearly small enough that he didn’t need one. Throughout the show he wandered away from the microphone to sing and play more directly to the audience. It didn’t hurt the performance; he was right, we could hear him and drummer Tommy Larkins just fine without mics. At one point, however, he did pull the mic on Larkins’ kick drum back. I guess it was coming through a little too hot.

He clearly struggled with the necessity of the microphones. At the start of the show he and Larkins’ microphones and gear were pushed back ten or twelve feet from the tables at the front. He expressed concern, saying he didn’t like seated shows because they get too close to “an actual concert,” which he doesn’t care for. He was expecting people to come up and dance at the front and when they didn’t he dragged Larkins’ and his equipment closer to the nearest tables, bridging the gap between performer and audience. It made it feel more like the most talented friend at your party was pulling out your acoustic guitar and singing you some silly songs he wrote than a real show.

Actually though, that’s a bit of a misnomer. While Richman laid the foundation of his career with occasionally-silly numbers infused with the spirit of an adolescent boy his live set now is comprised mostly of decidedly grown-up ruminations on life, love, and society. Songs like “Her Beauty Not Of High Heels and Eye Shadow” and “Not So Much To Be Loved As To Love” are remarkably mature love songs, the former a paean to a decidedly contemporary woman, a story of ineffable attraction a younger man simply wouldn’t be capable of, the latter concerning a fully adult perspective on the importance of giving affection. “When We Refuse To Suffer” encourages the listener to recognize the importance of hardship and tribulation, seeing the upside and the learning opportunities in life’s more difficult moments.

His frequent speeches also came in the form of quick runs of Italian, Spanish, and French; for his non-English language songs he would often recite a key lyric before explaining exactly what it means in English and the sentiment underlying the song. A deft move, I suppose, ensuring that audience members that haven’t followed those tangents of his career will have more of a connection with the number.

Forming that connection is a vital part of his shows, it seems. While set lists posted on some fan sites show he plays some of his older numbers every once in a rare while that certainly wasn’t the case in Saskatoon; he seems to go out of his way to completely eschew his past. I think the oldest song he played was from 1998, going back just a quarter of the way into his catalogue. Once into the first of his three encores, Richman gave the audience a fairly extensive speech that I’m sure must be rather well-rehearsed by now about how a song is like bread; if it’s freshly baked and warm out of the oven it’s still appealing but if it’s been sitting on the counter for thirty years collecting dust you won’t want to touch it. Essentially: if he isn’t feeling a song anymore he damn sure isn’t going to play it. Shouted requests for everything from “Ice Cream Man” to “Roadrunner” (duh) to “Vincent Van Gogh” fell on unwelcoming ears, but the crowd didn’t seem terribly put out by it. How could you stay mad at such an affable fellow when he gives such a well-reasoned argument?

The nicest thing is that Richman doesn’t need to rest on his laurels. The highlight of the set was a new tune that must have stretched out at least eight minutes, a delightful story-song about how he used to frequent Harvard Square in Cambridge, Massachusetts while growing up. Sometimes his parents dropped him off, sometimes he would take the trolley, but regardless the hippies and artsy-types that held a kind of arts-based communion there during the 60s and 70s would always help “Show (him) the door to Bohemia.” It’s remarkably touching, honest, and illuminating; Richman admits to creating some pretentious poetry and also makes it easy to see where his journey to becoming the songwriter he is now and always has been really began. It’s amazing to think it took him this long to write it. To my knowledge it hasn’t been recorded yet and part of me hopes it won’t be. It seems like a song meant for the intimacy of live performance, a real piece of the artist’s soul that couldn’t possibly carry the same gravitas and tenderness it did on this particular Saturday night if it was shackled to tape for eternity.

If Richman thought the lack of dancing during the 90-minute show meant the crowd wasn’t appreciating as much as he might have expected I’m sure his mind was changed when the set ended. Richman and Larkins began to walk “off” the stage (behind a curtain), only to be urged back by a ravenously-applauding audience. That process was repeated twice more, with Richman registering a visible amount of shock. Saskatchewan may not make with the dancing, Jonathan, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love you.

Note: Below you’ll find three tunes Richman did play during the show and three I can only wish he played, a trio of his numerous songs about classical painters

 

 Jonathan Richman - Her Mystery Not Of High Heels And Eye Shadow: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Jonathan Richman - When We Refuse To Suffer: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Jonathan Richman - Le Printemps des Amoureux est Venu [2:37m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Jonathan Richman - Vincent Van Gogh: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 The Modern Lovers - Pablo Picasso: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Jonathan Richman - No One Was Like Vermeer: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Once again: Jonathan Richman’s albums are available on the internet, sort of, even though he himself “does not participate in the internet at any level.” Check Vapor Records for links to physical purchases and iTunes seems to have the lot in digital.

Pat entries acoustic, ignoring the past, Jonathan Richman, live music, living legends, rock

The Perms are die-hards in the Canadian rock scene but there’s a very good chance you might not even realize it.

Since releasing their first album Tight Perm in 1998 (which boasts some of the best cover art OF ALL TIME) the trio has been plugging away, trying to break into the next level of musical recognition. Like most bands with day jobs they were issuing records every four or five years, honing their songwriting chops along the way in search of the perfect hook.

The release late last month of Sofia Nights marks a quicker turn-around for the group, having been just two years since the aptly-titled Keeps You Up When You’re Down. The push for rapidity seems to have served The Perms well; Sofia Nights sees them tweaking their sound in a not-too-subtle manner that really fits with their songs.

Let’s face it: a three-piece power pop band can only write the same song so many times. For their latest round of recordings, however, the group decided to embrace immediacy in the studio. They quickly threw out any ideas that weren’t working and pushed forward with a more “hard-edged sound.” If I’m being honest, though, just like an apple can only be so sour The Perms can only be so roughed-up; they aren’t Iggy and The Stooges. Think a little more C’mon and a little less Change Of Heart.

But a little aggression helps make the songs here a bit more memorable than some of their previous work. The guitars a bit grimier, more aggressive, and the tempos remain on the quicker side. “Live For Today” is a lyrically self-evident homily about carpe-ing the diem, backed up by a Big Star-like arrangement complete with a bend-heavy guitar solo. “Mannheim” is a straight-forward positive rocker (”We’re going down to Mannheim…now we’re gonna have a good time”) that may or may not be about the German city. It’s irrelevant, really; one suspects they just needed a city that rhymed with “time” to fit the scheme. “Make It Through” is a more muscular version of a song you might hear performed at a high school prom in a TV show or movie. “In No Time” bridges the gap between The Perms’ softer side and their more muscular rock sounds, a full-on duet about the pains of leaving a lover.

There are some ill-advised decisions here as well, however. Catchy though the music may be, throw-away first single “High School High” comes off like a Bowling For Soup b-side, the kind of arrested development anthem that university juniors were listening to in 2001.

But on the whole The Perms have crafted an undeniably catchy and enjoyable record with Sofia Nights. However, part of me worries about the viability of their product. Pop music simply isn’t what it used to be; Elvis Costello has put out more roots and jazz albums than rock and roll in the last decade or two. As well-constructed as The Perms songs are I’m concerned there just isn’t much of an audience for their sound. Bands that would’ve been considered contemporaries eight years ago (take past tour mates The Meligrove Band, for example) have headed in more indie/synth/dance directions on recent albums where The Perms have, for the most part, stayed true to their basic template. Of course, this is coming from someone who hasn’t listened to the last three or four Weezer albums, so maybe the pop rock community is just beyond my current realm of understanding.

Regardless, Sofia Nights will make for a great windows-down summer rock album for the next couple of weeks, should Saskatchewan’s unseasonably warm fall persist.

 

 The Perms - Mannheim: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

You can find iTunes and Amazon links to purchase all of The Perms’ albums through their website.

The band will also be hitting Saskatchewan for one show this month, apparently. Check them out at Lydia’s Pub on October 21st with openers Fur Eel.

Pat entries Canadian content, pop rock, power pop, the Perms, Winnipeg

By the time you read this I’ll be in Saskatoon and my life will be changing.

Jonathan Richman is playing what will no doubt be a very, very intimate show at The Refinery this evening (Saturday October 1st, 2011). It’s going to be amazing, seeing an actual living legend performing live.

I’ve been waiting months for this show. I was prepared to drive all the way to Winnipeg to see him there before I found out a Saskatoon show had been booked. But honestly, it’s going to be a bit of a sidebar to what will be the main event of the day.

That’s me and my sweet special lady Colleen in Maui a few months ago. It was an amazing vacation and remains an incredible memory. But a vacation is just a vacation and a lifetime is a lifetime.

I don’t know where I’d be today if it wasn’t for Colleen. I met her at a very low point in my life, a bleak pocket of time that I would be happy to forget completely if it weren’t for the fact that I learned a lot of things I badly needed to learn.

I met Colleen shortly after I met Jonathan Richman. In the midst of a deep, mostly drunk depression, I was doing dishes at home one Friday night. I had CJTR on my radio and was feeling low when I heard “Everyday Clothes” come on whatever program was airing at the time. It was a revelation. I could feel again. I immediately went out and got as many of his albums as I could find.

When I met her a few weeks later Colleen was another revelation. I was introduced to her at a local bar on her birthday; she and a mutual friend were both celebrating. She was there mostly with school friends but for the most part it was like there was no one else in the picture but she and I. In my memory we spent the whole night talking only to each other, thanks in large part to her inquisitive nature. She asked me question after question after question. I was more honest and forthright than I’ve ever been with anyone after just meeting them, possibly because of her disarming nature.

Frankly, I think it had more to do with her smile. Her smile is indescribable. I told her everything she wanted to know in the simple hope that it would make her smile again. You really have to see it to believe it. I live for that smile now.

It wasn’t an easy relationship to get off the ground, for a few reasons. When she left Regina at the beginning of last summer to return to her home city of Winnipeg for a job we decided we would give it a serious go. Despite only knowing each other for a few months we both felt the connection we experienced from that first night forward was strong and unusual enough that it had to be pursued. So we did.

We drove back and forth all summer, sometimes meeting in Brandon (roughly halfway in between) for date nights. We would often drive around for hours talking and listening to Jonathan Richman’s music. Songs like “It’s You” and “I’m Just Beginning To Live” and “Important In Your Life” became ingrained in our budding affection, the perfect wistful accompaniment to our idealistic, budding love.

He’s been with us every step of the way since. When, after six months, Colleen and I decided to move in together he was there, on the stereo in the truck we borrowed to bring her possessions back to Regina. He’s been in the line-up for my community radio show on any given Thursday, a secret message to my lady love while she listens from home.

And he’ll be there today, which just happens to be the one-year anniversary of us co-habitating, the 18-month anniversary of our decision to “go steady,” and the day I’m going to ask Colleen to marry me.

I imagine her face will look something like this:

So thanks, Jonathan Richman. I’m sure we could’ve done it without you but it wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.

Oh, and I know you don’t participate in the internet so you won’t be reading this but on the off-chance you somehow stumble onto the web and see this: I would love it if you could play “Everyday Clothes.” If you want me to weep in front of you, I mean.

FURTHER EDITOR’S NOTE — she said yes

 

 Jonathan Richman - A Higher Power: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Jonathan Richman - When She Kisses Me: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Jonathan Richman - This Love Of Mine: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Jonathan Richman - When I Say Wife: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Jonathan Richman - It's You: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Jonathan Richman - Everyday Clothes: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Jonathan Richman’s albums are available on the internet, sort of, even though he himself “does not participate in the internet at any level.” Check Vapor Records for links to physical purchases and iTunes seems to have the lot in digital.

Pat entries acoustic, it's personal, Jonathan Richman, live music, living legends, love, rock

Bruce Peninsula’s new record represents a new lease on life, literally, even if it wasn’t entirely intentional.

The “alt-choral” group has returned with its second full-length album, but it wasn’t easy to come by. The group, helmed by lead singer Neil Haverty, made a concerted effort in mid-2010 to work up a group of songs that added more detailed musical elements to their unmistakable sound. According to press materials and interviews, the group wrote quickly, embracing its instincts and not over-working the songs. Open Flames, the result of those sessions, was originally ready to go for spring of this year. But Haverty was diagnosed with a form of leukemia in December and the record was put on hold while he received treatment. When the leukemia went into remission Haverty emerged from potential tragedy armed with a newly-assembled group of singers and released the album.

While there’s nothing in the press materials that indicates Haverty was aware of or anticipating any kind of medical distress the lyrics of Open Flames certainly reflect the undeniable fragility of life. The group’s first record was sprinkled with apocalyptic lyrical tableaus, Haverty’s words portraying mountains as mouths eating the sky and bodies of water actively working to overwhelm the land. The implication of inevitable decay is here in spades once again, but turned inward. “As Long As I Live” starts the album as a bold statement; the thunderingly percussive track is as mighty a musical arrangement as Haverty has produced. His gruff singing tells the story of an overgrown, crumbling earth calling his name. He admits that, “my hand was a hammer and my heart was a stone…my heavy heart now a phantom limb for as long as I live.” A primarily-female choral vocal persists throughout the song’s remainder, insisting, “You can’t hide what you are.”

The troubled sentiment persists, through the next song and beyond. “What am I if not just dust?” he wonders during “In Your Light,” a song whose bright, polyrhythmic guitar figures and convoluted bass line betray the underlying worry of that question. “Pull Me Under” is an obvious one, as Haverty laments, “I can’t keep my head above the water.” “Say Yeah” sees Haverty’s voice return after several numbers carried by female singers. He sounds wearier and more drawn than before as he sings, “What has come to collect you soon will come to protect you.” He sounds more than ever like he needs that protection. “Open Flame” is a cry for purification, a plea for something to burn away the darkness, “if only your body can stand for you.” “Cliffs and Coves” reflects the earthly imagery of the first album, imploring “Oh mountain, resist,” even as the waves of a great body of water unyieldingly slam against its base, slowly eroding that which makes it whole (a more apt cancer metaphor I have yet to find). The album ends with “Chupacabra,” in which Haverty concedes, “I don’t know where my body goes.”

It’s an overarching tenor that would seem prescient if the music hadn’t come before the illness. The idea of a heart as a phantom limb (a syndrome where someone who has lost an arm or leg feels in their mind that the limb is still there) is, in particular, an incredible metaphor, suggesting a kind of impossible loneliness or isolation. Still, Haverty and The Bruce Peninsula aren’t overcome by the dour nature of some of their words. The defining elements of their music ensure that simply cannot happen.

For the uninitiated, their music is generally constructed around a varying degree of minimalist folk and/or rock instrumentation, but impeccably-layered vocal arrangements and a big-tent, choral atmosphere give them a unique kind of immensity that pushes each song into it’s own brand of maximalism. Think of the arrangements of a band like Explosions In The Sky but instead of the consistent, building intensity being generated by the instruments an ever-swelling tsunami of human voices layered and piled on top of one another is responsible for creating the dramatic peaks and valleys. To a person, every voice you’ll hear on this record is imbued with a remarkable kind of passion, their tenor and tone conveying the emotional edge of the song one syllable at a time. Haverty’s sandpapery lead vocals serve as counterpoint to the inevitable tenor of polish a choral arrangement demands, lending an incredible character to each number.

Haverty also knows when to give up the reigns. His new choir, which has been in the past as high as ten people during live performances (one imagines there’s no cap on that number when they’re working in the studio), is anchored by strong female vocalists like Daniela Gesundheit (better known as Snowblink) and Tamara Lindeman, whose own “band” The Weather Station is gaining a lot of steam right now. Haverty surrenders or shares the lead with these powerful, expressive singers on most of the record’s middle half; the fantastically-constructed “Say Yeah” sees them harmonizing throughout. The song’s dynamic melodicism benefits not only from their performances but also a series of rhythmic shifts that run counter to the preciousness of the verses. It’s something altogether new for Bruce Peninsula, the vulnerability of those verses betraying the electric guitar and pounding drums that finish out the song in a punishing fashion.

It’s those signs of growth that help Open Flames succeed. It’s the inherent power of Haverty’s lyricism, the unequivocal feeling and passion in the singing that is the defining characteristic of the band, and the unique approach to rock music that continues to allow it to stand alone in it’s own corner of the music world. It’s an undeniably powerful record that never seems repetitive, routine, or rehashed.

But Open Flames is not an album about death; that would be too simple. It’s an album about life, about honesty, about embracing that which makes us human. Even with a dark cloud hanging overhead it’s about as joyous a cautionary tale as you’ll ever hear and it’s a stand-out record in a year that threatens to overflow with them.

 

 Bruce Peninsula - As Long As I Live: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Bruce Peninsula - In Your Light: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Pat entries alt choral, Bruce Peninsula, Canadian content, indie rock, rock, vocal