I picked this record for you
It’s a cliche to say you should write about what you know, but that age-old maxim is very much true. It also has me simultaneously titillated and terrified as I post this item.
If you aren’t from Regina and don’t know the genealogy Jesse Matheson is the brother of Emmet Matheson, one of my favourite writers, critics, and underpants-puller-offers ever (here’s a link to his credentials; he’s bona fide). Both men have a knack for ingenious allegory, wordplay, and tweaked absurdity. Jesse plays guitars and sings songs while Emmet lives for the printed word (and the occasional subversion of such).
I met Emmet when I was working and volunteering at the University of Regina Carillon, where he spent time as Editor-in-Chief and even more time as the man behind some of the most entertaining and intelligent CD reviews the publication has ever seen. Even then his knowledge of music seemed encyclopaediac and his analysis was practically Ebertian. It was his thoroughly entertaining encapsulations that inspired me to first review music, then to do it better. He’s the reason I once reviewed a particularly awful techno CD by listing nothing but sci-fi sounding onomatopoeia.
So my appreciation for his work after even the briefest of exposure to it resulted in a bit of anxiety when he personally asked me to review his brother’s album for its recent re-release. Of course any pressure I feel about it is completely self-imposed, but its there. And it has only compounded since I first spun the record.
I’m nervous about this review because someone whose work I genuinely appreciate will be watching closely. I’m nervous about this review because there could be a perceived conflict of interest if I write something glowing about it. I’m nervous about this review because I love this record, but I don’t want to write something too hyperbolic about it; I think people tend to back away from something if a reviewer is too enthusiastic.
But this album is deserving of every sliver of praise it will receive, and those will be multitudinous. Jessie Matheson writes and performs songs with a relaxed confidence that belies a wellspring of talent. His album is called Pleasure Pounds, a reference to, “those parts of a woman’s body that are, well, womanly.” The cover is adorned with a symmetric set of serpentine jaws surrounding a slice of cake. The image, combined with the title, says a surprising amount about the lyrical content contained within.
Matheson isn’t interested in writing protest songs or politically-charged anthems railing against the system; his concerns are far more immediate. Take, for example, the first four songs. “Make Out,” “Moan,” “New Booty,” and the marvellous “She Does It In Graveyards” all discuss exactly what you think they do. The upbeat lead-off track is a paean to lip-mashing, just one of the intimate activities that apparently consumes Matheson’s brain on a non-stop basis. “Moan” takes things into the bedroom, as he lustily intones his desire to drive his paramour wild. “New Booty” celebrates the impact home-cooking has on a lady’s backside. “She Does It In Graveyards” is pretty self-explanatory.
In the hands of lesser songwriters this could come off as painfully sophomoric, but Matheson is just writing what he knows. He’s up-front about his desires and not the least bit lecherous; instead he comes across as that goofy friend who knows a sense of humour is what really wins over the ladies. Witness “Nothing At All,” a highlight of the album’s back end in which he imagines some increasingly entertaining and absurd situations wherein his lady has no clothes on. Simple concept, cleverly written, playfully performed. Its extremely endearing.
Matheson’s cause is helped by his refusal to over-complicate the music and his willingness to let his influences show. On nearly every track he subtly strums an acoustic guitar and sings like the horny ghost of Jonathan Richman (yes, I know he isn’t dead). That is probably the most obvious comparison to this material, as Matheson wears his Richman influences on the sleeve of his Velvet Underground t-shirt. Unpretentious arrangements see handclaps, some smooth bass, spare synths, reverb-laden electric guitar, some wonderful female harmonies, even lap percussion and a slapdash choir (presumably naked, if one suspends disbelief while listening to the marvelous “Orgy In Portland”) thrown into the mix. Given that his other love is food, I’m not surprised to see that he knows full well the hazards of having too many cooks in his kitchen. The songs succeed because of his charisma.
Of course not ever song centers around lyrics like, “Let’s make my loveseat into a love seat.” Matheson quite admirably addresses the dire situation Regina’s downtown has been facing for the last number of years in “I Walk Downtown,” lamenting the too-often deserted streets in what should be a bustling sector. The album also closes with one of the most beautiful and sincere love songs I’ve ever heard, the touching and intimate “We Don’t Have To Go Home.” On an album full of uncomplicated songs, this is the purest one: nothing more than two people sitting in a room and singing into an open microphone while the tape rolls. Allison Russel (of Po’ Girl) provides the other half of this duet, both singing gently but purposefully, enunciating loving intent along with every syllable. You can hear them smiling the whole way through and it is downright infectious.
That sentiment carries through every song on Pleasure Pounds. This is happy music, but not overly sentimental or vapid. Its funny, but not jokey or parodic. Its sexual, but coyly so, not in a modern R n’ B or dirrrty pop way. Matheson’s songs acknowledge the base desires we all share and celebrates them with understated hooks and a refreshing ability to avoid taking himself too seriously. This is an album that should be celebrated in kind.
Jesse Matheson - She Does It In Graveyards [2:03m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download Jesse Matheson - Nothing At All [3:59m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download Jesse Matheson - We Don't Have To Go Home [2:56m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | DownloadPleasure Pounds is easily found via the internets at the Copperspine Records site. Also, on iTunes, should that be your game. Good old physical copies still exist; they’re at CDBaby as well. Jesse’s myspace is located here for those that would seek it.
