Sound Salvation Army

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

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

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

Secret Sisters are actually sisters! There is no secret!

Now that we’ve put that little mystery to bed let’s expand a little. Laura and Lydia Rogers have music coursing through their very veins, a legacy of writing, playing, and singing that dates back to their ancestors. They’re young; it’s only been a couple of years since they’ve been pursuing music professionally, although they’ve been playing since they outgrew the bassinet. It allowed them to not only establish an impossibly-deep musical bond but also to craft songs that have instantly caught the ear of Americana music royalty like T Bone Burnett. He’s putting out the duo’s record and he’s not being very shy about it.

I have been making music for over forty years and The Secret Sisters album is as close to pure as it gets…Listening to the Secret Sisters sing, you hear in their voices a sound that is timeless and of the moment. You hear the history of rural American music from the 1920’s and a reverence for every musical genre this country has produced. Popular music requires the absolute honesty of the Secret Sisters and I’m thrilled to be involved in presenting them to the world.

That’s effusive praise, especially coming from the guy who played guitar for Bob Dylan and has won this many accolades (in addition to putting together the greatest soundtrack of all time.

They played a short teaser before KD Lang took the main stage on Friday night at the festival and the audience response was nothing short of fervent, especially when the nervous tremors in their voices while making small-talk with the crowd gave way to a chill-inducing a capella number that showed the depth of their musical understanding and interconnectedness.

Hear more about the sisters’ musical bond and their surprised reaction to the Regina Folk Festival in the interview below.

This interview wraps up our Regina Folk Festival interview feature for this year, sadly. While we endeavored to roll tape on all the artists who came by our tent some battery issues and forgetfulness meant we didn’t get enough of some interviews to publish. That means you won’t get to hear Cœur de Pirate’s Béatrice Martin and the audible contempt in her voice when I couldn’t properly pronounce her band’s name (due to my excessively English language skills) or ESL’s Cris Derksen discuss basses with Beth. Still, it was fun! Here’s hoping we get to do it next year too!

 

 Secret Sisters interiview: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Secret Sisters - The One I Love Is Gone: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Secret Sisters have their music for sale via their web site and through the iTunes thingy dingy.

Pat entries #RFF11, acoustic, CJTR, interviews, live music, Regina Folk Festival, Secret Sisters

How curious! Just as I was writing a review of the brilliant new Mike Angus album, another little record came into my inbox that is equally indebted to the space it was recorded in. What are the odds!

Brock Tyler is a multi-instrumentalist based out of Edmonton. In the interest of full disclosure we share a delightful mutual friend, but even still I hadn’t heard Tyler’s work until he passed along his new EP, You Can’t Keep The Sun Down. And thank goodness he did.

The brief record was set to tape by Tyler and Tyler alone in a church in Edmonton earlier this year over the course of a few nights. He describes the setting best on his bandcamp page:

You press the record button a lot, and then maybe you erase what you did and try it again. You repeat this several hundred times. Occasionally you might sigh or smile depending on the results you’re getting. You take a break to eat trail mix. You lie down on a pew for awhile and stare at the ceiling. You get up and you press the record button several hundred more times. It sounds kind of lonely, I guess, but in small doses it’s actually sort of cathartic…The room played a big role in the sound of this recording. All the reverb you hear is the church itself; nothing added later, just a few microphones standing around picking things up as I played…You can sometimes hear the wooden ceiling popping in the quiet parts of the songs.

That statement seems utterly ridiculous to me. To think that this album that just sounds so perfectly put together is purely the result of natural occurrences and not some kind of next-level studio wizardry is absurd. The natural reverb created by the space itself is so warm and inviting that it makes Tyler’s songs seem like old favourites right from the first spin. He puts a bit more substance into his arrangements than some bare-bones folk or acoustic acts, bringing the church’s own piano and drum kit into the mix along with his own trumpet and some light percussion.

The mood of the album also belies the creepiness Tyler hints at above, however. The tracks reflect the kind of quiet contemplation that both comes from and leads to a person spending a lot of hours by themselves, making the album (and it’s closing trio of progressively-themed spring month-referencing songs) a very gently, lyrically-driven listen.

That introspection drives the stand-out track here, “On Saturday, Maybe,” which is also one of the most slyly upbeat numbers in this too-brief 15 minute collection. The beat comes from Tyler’s own multi-tracked hand claps, framing a catchy piano track that is bright and poppy, bracing the hopeful lyrics. “I’ve been feeling down of late but I know things will turn around,” he concedes to the listener, “on Saturday, maybe.” The song demonstrates how key Tyler’s voice is to these songs working as well as they do. It’s not quite thin exactly, but his delivery is generally more relaxed, almost detached from the material in a way. When he brings in some falsetto in the verses you get a real feel for the impact that Elliott Smith, Pete Yorn, and Ron Sexsmith albums clearly had on him and his writing. Moreover, the brief “verse” mentioned above ends with the perfect hint of malaise in Tyler’s voice, one that suggests it might not be this Saturday in particular that his world will brighten up.

The most somber number follows with “Because You Live,” a bit of a bait-and-switch due to the fact that it has probably the most hopeful lyrics on the EP. Lyrically the song (which could read as a Christ allusion if you see it through those eyes) is looking up the whole way along, but the languidly finger-picked acoustic guitar, minor piano chords, and distant trumpet create a mood that acts as a hard counter to the message.

The middle track of the ’spring suite’ (closing tracks “The Flowers In April” “The Snow In May” and “June) is also a dip down into melancholy, as Tyler laments a resurgence of winter that makes it seem as though the summer will never come. The piano in “June” almost recalls “The Look of Love” in a way, but the sparse and almost dour guitar chords are made significantly lighter as the song continues. Brock adds trumpet, more hand claps, and some glockenspiel before it all drops away and the song ends with just a wistful remembrance of how it began.

Brief though it may be, You Can’t Keep The Sun Down speaks to the listener both about the quiet spaces in between moments and the happy accidents that make life (and recording music in a meaningful place) worthwhile. He and his songs were respectful of the venue and that solemnity echoes back throughout. This is one worth hearing.

 

 Brock Tyler - On Saturday, Maybe: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

You can buy the EP at Brock’s bandcamp page and you can watch for tour dates on his web site.

Pat entries acoustic, Brock Tyler, Canadian content, church music, Edmonton, folk, independent, singer/songwriter

What a weekend to not be in Regina.

I’m kicking myself, you guys. I’ll be in Winnipeg this weekend for a very important trip with my special lady to a city that’s not as bad as people (from Saskatchewan) think it is but I have an obligation (as a Saskatchewanian) to pretend like it stinks. But I’ll be missing SO MUCH good music, you guys!

It’s almost hard to keep it all straight but let’s start with Friday night.

Birds Are Dinosaurs are undoubtedly Regina’s most interesting group. The post-rock instrumental group frequently has a lot of members, including two drummers, and creates many-faceted songs that range from ominous to ecstatic, urgent to patient, bright to bleak, and everything in between. They also but on a downright entrancing live show, weaving textured arrangements with a studied expertise. They put out their first full-length back in 2009 and, word has it, they’re going to be working on another one. You’ll likely get a taste of that new material when they headline this month’s chapter of CJTR’s 10th Anniversary Showcase Series at the Exchange on Friday night at the Exchange. Also on the bill is the newly-renamed Sun Zoom Sparx, formerly known as Coelacanthdance. I promise, their music is better than their new name and easier to wrap your head around. Tickets, I believe, are $10 at the door.

HOWEVER, friends, conflict abounds on Friday night as well! Also playing tomorrow at the delightful Creative City Center are Surrey’s Sumner Brothers. Described by our friends over at Herohill as a roots act that even the most ardent Willie Nelson fans would have trouble finding fault in, the west coasters have toured Canada multiple times on the strength of a few criminally underrated albums (so underrated we haven’t even covered them before, in fact). Thankfully they continue to traipse across the country, guitars in tow, playing to ever-larger audiences. If a more traditional type of songcraft is your thing I highly recommend checking them out. Local musical mainstay Cam Wensel’s latest effort Black Drink Crier opens as well! Tickets are just $8 at the door (1843 Hamilton Street above Loggie’s Shoes).

Montreal by way of Calgary act Braids (mentioned all too briefly in our round-up of Regina Folk Festival’s first day) are also visiting the Exchange this weekend. They’re playing Saturday night with Pepper Rabbit and Painted Palms, two bands I literally know nothing about. I mean it; literally nothing. Braids, however, are tearing up the indie rock world right now. Their album Native Speaker has been short-listed for the Polaris Prize and is, according to some, an odds-on favourite to win. It’s layered, twisted versions of pop and rock songs are enough of a head trip to set them apart. Just take the Winnipeg Free Press’ word for it. This one is going to be jam-packed, so get your tickets at Vintage Vinyl if you don’t already.

Sunday is also going to be VERY exciting, as Hollerado roll into the Queen City on their “Meet The Mayor” tour. The concept has been so successful even the band has been surprised by it, but it goes like this: a month or so ago when they announced the show dates for their latest cross-Canada trek, the pop rock band joked on Twitter that they would endeavor to meet the mayor of every city they played. CJTR’s own Indie Insider and I relayed the message to Regina’s own Pat Fiacco and, being the amiable and eager politician that he is, he agreed to greet the group when they arrive in the city. From there, the idea spiraled, as Mayor Nenshi in Calgary also got on board. Odds are good they’ll talk about that meeting during their set, but even if they don’t you still get some of the finest pop rock happening in Canada these days. Young Rival and Wildlife open this one.

So there you have it folks. Way more amazing music than Regina is used to seeing in a month, let alone a week, crammed into a three day span. Please, miss as little of this line-up as you can.

 

 Birds Are Dinosaurs - Tragedy: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Sumner Brothers - Going Out West: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Braids - Lemonade [6:46m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Hollerado - Americanarama: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Links!:
Birds are dinosaurs Facebook is here, because I can’t find anything else.
Sumner Brothers are on iTunes and they also have a web store.
Braids’ album is pretty cheap on iTunes and they also have a web store.
Hollerado are also iTunes fans, I guess or you can attempt to navigate their, um, unique website for physical purchase links. I sure as hell am not.

Pat entries acoustic, Birds Are Dinosaurs, Braids, Hollerado, instrumental, live music, pop rock, Regina, rock, roots, Sumner Brothers, Surrey, Toronto

It’s amazing how music recorded in one of the most beautiful places on earth can sound so cold, fragile, damaged, and miserable. It’s also more than a little amazing how that music with those traits can still ingrain itself so deeply into your brain.

Mike Angus is one of the two singer/songwriter brothers that make up the creative core of The Wheat Pool, a band long-time readers should be intimately familiar with by now. From the sound of his first solo album, however, it seems like he could maybe use a hug.

I saw him perform back in July at The Artesian in Regina, opening for The Wheat Pool. From the first struck chord there was no looking back. Angus spent the entirety of his solo set at center stage wielding only his acoustic guitar, not even so much as a pick to accompany him. It set a starkly dour mood, one not very far removed from the tenor of Hymns, his debut solo album released earlier this summer.

“Italy” was a stand-out on The Wheat Pools’ literally perfect album Hauntario but surrounded by the rest of Angus’ compositions here it loses some of that luster. Well, perhaps it’s just the fact that I’ve heard the song a minimum of literally 475 times (according mostly to my iPod, iTunes, and iPad playlists, plus a small number of CD play estimations). This version, however, restores the pastoral majesty of a YouTube video that documents the song (and really, the album’s) genesis. In it, Angus is seen performing the tune on a rocky cliff-side, the roaring sea heard audibly in the mix serving as the only real indication of where the performance is taking place until the camera pans out at the closing to reveal the water itself, crashing upon the rocks. It only hints at the visuals the song’s lyrics so vividly describe, but it speaks to the blatant clash and contradiction seen in the songs contained versus the setting in which they were recorded.

You can call this a folk album, but it has absolutely no optimism or sunny side. There is no positivity here. The disc was recorded in a barn in the Italian countryside and it defies that locale in virtually every way possible: it’s a minor chord-laden, coolly atmospheric set of songs detailing romantic disappointment, the occasional cold comfort one takes in western Canadian winters, and the flagging or non-existent faith felt by both the songwriter and society at large (the death of Jesus even gets a pretty straight-forward analysis on one song).

As he does on record, Angus began his set back in July with the pessimistic “Be There (You Won’t).” It’s a contemplative number with Angus singing about how he’s been left alone with his guitar because, as the chorus makes quite clear to his lady love, “You won’t be there anymore.” His acoustic is capably finger-picked in a folky style that sets the tone for the album, but that’s where the live set and the record diverge; on the album the song actually begins with a chilly, almost ethereal ambient sound, potentially some well-controlled and filtered feedback, maybe a synthesizer. It’s a sound that pops up repeatedly on the record that almost gives the listener a sense of unease. A plodding bass joins in as well, with a distant kick drum and tambourine providing a rhythmic backbone that is simultaneously ghastly and removed from the proceedings.

But, as is generally the case on The Wheat Pool’s albums, it’s the vocals that really sell the song. Angus harmonizes with himself on a melody that is towards the bottom of his register but still rich and compelling. The man just has a gift for crafting a vocal melody that cries out to be sung along with — they’re consistently the most compelling part of his songs.

While the album runs just eight songs and little more than 25 minutes Angus focuses on keeping some variety in the mix. The delightfully-arranged “Oh, Rodeo!” comes in with a peal of feedback, a few strummed acoustic and electric guitar chords, and sleigh bells for accompaniment. But just as quickly as they’re introduced all those elements drop out, with Angus’ angelic falsetto singing the first verse along with intermittent piano and guitar chords. The remainder of the song sees all of the instruments used in varying combinations, but nearly every note is played on the beat. It creates an absolutely hypnotic musical bed that grows and grows, constantly on the cusp of a revelatory crescendo. It’s a delightful piece of song craft.

“Scaffold Christ” follows in a similar vein, a song that again features something like full-band instrumentation despite the fact that it was entirely written on a computer, a first for Angus. Here the snare reverberates in a coolly digital way, a precursor to the vocal reverb and the ambient digital feedback that swirls in the song’s middle third. The simple sounds here, let alone the lyrics, are an extremely effective allegory for the dismissive attitude an ever-growing number of people in the modern world have for religion and the story of Christ (an aspect of the album’s lyrical component that is present in all of these songs to a larger or more minor extent, depending on the track). For his part, Angus never explicitly states which side of the fence he’s on (though during the show he did reference time spent in churches during his youth as an influence on the album and its content, and the record’s press materials reveal that he’s moved away from faith as an adult) but he seems to be completely in tune with the connotation and expectation that goes along with such references. That much is clear in the ensuing “Gsus Minor,” a song that lays out Christ’s tale from a personal level, casting him as a “broken lamb, nails driven in your hands.” He also refers to a “weary mother” that even the most fair-weather student of the gospel writings will easily recognize (I should say that I HATE songs named after guitar chords; it seems like a lazy cop-out most of the time, but this album is so good I’ll give Mike a pass).

The downcast tale of a murdered savior is a poignant lead-in to the album’s most sombre highlight, the starkly elegiac “Cold, Cold Ground.” The song was written after Angus returned home from Italy, arriving back in Edmonton in the middle of a particularly frigid winter and feeling particularly alone. “I was down and out,” he admits, “I took comfort somehow in the cold, cold ground…the cold, cold ground.” In contrast to the savior mentioned in the previous song Angus goes on to illustrate his own last wishes, imploring that he be laid to rest without an extravagant ritual, “just some friends gathered around a hole in the ground…the cold, cold ground.”

If I’ve spoken at great length about so few songs I assure you it is only because these brief numbers carry a corresponding weight, a melodic melancholy that borders on ennui at times and strikes directly at the heart and the mind. Like the best folk songs Hymns speaks to the absolute truth of the human condition, the simple fact that no matter what luxuries are presented to us we can’t escape our minds. We can’t escape the fact that sometimes life just hurts and the only way to get over that pain is to acknowledge it and move on. If this album doesn’t do that for Mike Angus I don’t know if anything will.

Regardless, he’s created an album of perfect songs to be sung softly along with on a day where you can’t help but wallow in your own misery. This is an album that should not be missed.

 

 Mike Angus - Cold, Cold Ground: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Mike Angus - Swallow It Whole: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

You can and should get your copy of from the Shameless Records web store or iTunes.

Pat entries acoustic, Canadian content, Edmonton, folk, going solo, Hymns, indie, Mike Angus, Shameless Records, solo material, the Wheat Pool

Regina’s Andy Shauf has a song called “Singer Of Love Songs.” In it he sings, “I am a singer of love songs, waiting for my cue to start the presentation of falling in love with you.” It’s only mostly sarcastic, simultaneously admitting to a characteristic that is plainly obvious in his work while also playing up the disingenuous and affected nature of so many musicians who use “love songs” as an emotionless, contrived stand-by.

Vancouver’s Dave Hadgkiss is not a phony singer of love songs. This spring he released his first solo album under the moniker of Folk Thief, the independently-released Love, Heartache, and Oblivion. It’s a collection of songs that reveal Hadgkiss as not only an intriguing new voice on the Canadian music scene but also a songwriter who laces his love songs with some decidedly bleak underpinnings.

From a musical standpoint the album is pointedly bare-boned — the instrumentation here is entirely left in Hadgkiss’ hands, his acoustic guitar the only musical element put to tape, aside from vocals. His playing usually comes down to a strum that lands somewhere between forceful and restrained, his chord progressions occasionally quick and sprightly, sometimes dour and muted. Regardless, his playing stays out of the way and lets his words and voice be the focal point.

The album’s stand-out track is clearly the duet “Broken Record,” on which Hadgkiss is backed by fellow Vancouverite Kelly Haigh in a circular tale of a ping-pong kind of love; it’s a song for those who can’t seem to do better and get mired in a mediocre coupling. The couple portrayed in the lyric are constantly going back and forth: they sing about their future withering and dying, with Hadgkiss (presumably) left to his own devices after his lover leaves him. But he can’t stop obsessing over her, even seven months later, and eventually she phones to say she wants to come home. The song’s chorus is a revelation on their part: “How long do we drag this out?” they both ponder in a majestically melodic chorus. “If this is love I’ll go without,” they continue, but not without a note of forgiveness and regret. The song ends with Hadgkiss all but sighing, “I’ve been down this road so many times I think I’ll have it paved.” That’s such a good fucking line, you guys.

His lyrics get even darker on the majority of the 10-song album. “A Light For Liberty” is propelled by a nice, upbeat guitar strum but thematically he spends most of the time discussing impending death. People die in their sleep, there are beasts that need to be slain, and Hadgkiss’ chorus ends with him describing a scenario in which his body is used to fuel a bonfire. Scary! “The Devil Behind Me” is a harrowing tale of a drug-addled man facing his doom, made even more harrowing by Hadgkiss’ gravelly scream, a jarring vocal explosion that is thankfully used sparingly here. It stands way out on the last minute of the final track and it’s a startlingly memorable note to end the album on.

It’s clear a lot of time and attention went into these carefully-written songs, although Hadgkiss’ voice almost sounds like it’s a somewhat reluctant enterprise. Aside from the record’s final minutes his voice isn’t forceful, powerful, or assertive as much as tempered, almost understated. But it works in the context of these songs, dour little pieces of poetry that call for a certain measure of caution and gentleness.

It’s a memorable entry into a genre that is frequently flooded and Love, Heartache & Oblivion just might steal some ears if people take some time to listen.

 

 Folk Thief - Broken Record [3:17m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Hadgkiss is in Regina tonight at the delightful Creative City Centre. For directions and information check out this link. To grab up a copy of the album GO TO THE SHOW!!!!! Or, conversely, buy the record here in both CD and digital forms.

Pat entries acoustic, Canadian content, Creative City Centre, Folk Thief, independent, live music

Listening to Northcote’s latest album is kind of like listening to the first solo record Sarah Harmer put out some 12 years ago. There’s something about back-porch acoustic guitar song craft that just feeds the soul. It’s comforting, it puts a smile on your face. Is it groundbreaking? No. Quite the opposite, I suppose: it’s built on a very solid footing.

Matt Goud has been around the block a few times. His recent acoustic guitar-slinging folk project has previously produced a flawless EP, Borrowed Chords and Tired Eyes, that perfectly sets the stage for this full length effort. Like that previous recording the songs here are built around Goud’s steady acoustic chords, sometimes bashed out like he’s playing to the rafters, sometimes strummed at a barely audible level. The EP was notable for it’s extremely deft use of subtle percussion and less-subtle horns that helped prop up his wonderfully sturdy vocal melodies and that aspect of his songs certainly hasn’t changed. If anything, Goud is expanding his sonic palette in a very logical way here.

For me the high points lie primarily in the more energetic numbers. On the EP it was those songs that really grabbed me; while not necessarily “upbeat” they’re the songs that are more fully-orchestrated, tracks like “Energy” and “Wheels” that are fantastically fleshed-out bedroom songs that really found their teeth in the studio. There are a number of tracks in a similar vein on Gather No Dust, such as first single “Free Tonight.” Like a few other numbers here Goud’s band is fully fleshed-out in the in the traditional rock band sense, adding electric guitar, bass, and a full drum kit to the mix. It’s got a propulsive rock and roll energy that pairs exquisitely with Goud’s world-weary voice, which may not be silky-smooth or studio-polished, but has an immense depth of character and feeling. “The Beat” and “Battle” follow in a similar vein while “Devils” is carried by one of the most fantastic drum beats I’ve ever heard on a primarily folk/acoustic record.

The heart of the record and perhaps the heart of Goud himself is reflected most clearly in the album’s gentlest number, the patient “Not A Home.” Practically a lullaby at it’s core, the song features Goud cleanly strumming an electric guitar and opining on the very nature of humanity and finding comfort in the choices you make in your life. Less a chorus than a mantra, the song’s last 45 seconds consist of him repeating over and over, “Some people have your heart and the wind has got your soul/but a place is not a home.” Accompanied by his sweetest and most reassuring melody yet, the sentiment makes sense for a songwriter who has relocated from Saskatchewan’s plains to Victoria, BC.

While Goud may be far from “home” he retains the spirit of a prairie philosopher. “Take The Ride” boasts the kind of optimism some people can only dream of as he gleefully exhales, “Tonight feels as wide as a prairie night.” The song and Goud’s lyrical spirit still seem to be informed by that landscape; perhaps that’s why this set of songs feels so at home in my stereo.

 

 Northcote - Free Tonight: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Northcote - Not A Home [2:07m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Gather No Dust is available from Black Box Recordings web site or digitally via iTunes.

Pat entries acoustic, Canadian content, folk, Northcote, reformed rockers, Regina, Victoria

Remember, albums can be bought physically from their tumblr and the album is on iTunes too.

Pat entries acoustic, Don Giovanni Records, Laura Stevenson, Laura Stevenson and the Cans, rock