SoundSalvationArmy

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

Melancholic songwriting about love gone wrong is a dime a dozen. Quality is in short supply when everyone and their kid sister is uploading a sappy ballad onto YouTube. That’s why Spring Breakup is worth a million damn dollars.

Earlier this year the duo quietly (practically silently) put out their sophomore album. You’ll recall their debut got me pretty excited. Mathais Kom is one of the most brilliant songwriters in Canada, his wit and dour world view complement each other perfectly. Kim Barlow is a delightful foil, all precious and precocious and every bit as subtly withdrawn when the moment calls for it.

It’s Not Me, It’s You fleshes out their previous recordings by adding a percussion to a number of songs. It’s a small change that yields big results right from the first track. Bongos (or hand drums, whatever you want to call them) add some playful character to the title track, shakers liven up “The Effect I Have On Women” and a full drum kit propels the group’s fastest-paced number, the absolutely perfect “Never Eat Alone.” And that’s just the first three songs.

Aside from adding the occasional rhythm section elements the music hews pretty closely to their previous work. Bright ukelele and banjo parts serve as counterpart to the down-in-the-dumps tenor of the lyrics, while acoustic guitar and even a very rare bit of electric guitar (on the super-dour “Puppy Dogs & Rainbows”) make an appearance. The songs are short and simply-crafted, catchy vessels for some very purposeful words.

As is usually the case with Kom’s work the lyrics are the focal point. The genesis of Spring Breakup is to tell stories of relationships ending. And they don’t end well. The group even brought a tape recorder on tour after putting out their debut so they could record the worst break-up stories their audience members had to tell. The intent was to write a song for each of them, although there was apparently too much material to work with.

Love songs work because they’re universal; it’s something virtually everyone everywhere can identify with. I suppose lost-love songs work for the same reason. And trust me, lost-loves songs of varying degrees of seriousness are the real winners on It’s Not You, It’s Me. “Never Eat Alone” is, as mentioned, brilliant. The upbeat track tells a heartbreaking tale of a woman on the wrong side of a break-up, one who has to deal with not being ready to say goodbye. The simple picture of someone who can’t bear to eat dinner alone and thus shares their meal time with their dog is heart-rending enough, but Barlow’s fragile alto lends the track an authentic fragility that does just as much as the words for the sentiment.

“Never Eat Alone” comes at the perfect moment in the album too. Opening with the lighter, more humorous “The Effect I Have On Women” and “It’s Not Me, It’s You” disarms the listener. The trade-offs between Barlow and Kom on those tracks paints the picture of a pair of swaggering lotharios (can ladies be considered lotharios?) who can get anyone they desire and drop them just as easily without the slightest bit of remorse. The romantic invincibility outlined on those songs makes the wounded tenor of “Never Eat Alone” hit like a ton of bricks.

Kom also brings his dark humour to the track “Mother and Wife,” on which he asks listeners to consider who they’d save from a burning building first: their dearly beloved or their dear sweet mother. If you’ve been paying attention it isn’t hard to guess which side Kom comes down on. Never resorting to cheap-shots, the songs here are more about romantics who act more like cads, but not purposefully. They just don’t know any better.

There’s definitely no sophomore slump here. Spring Breakup came out of the gate with a clear mandate and intent for their music and they’re sticking to the same basic blueprint here. But their well-written, precocious, sometimes precious, songs are also moving beyond their debut’s tentative first steps. It’s a formula that works so well it’s downright ridiculous. It’s just a shame they’ve chosen to do everything so low-key. If they were able to get some promotion behind this thing they could really have something moderately big on their hands instead of providing a ridiculous amount of joy to the small amount of people that have been lucky enough to stumble upon them.

 

 Spring Breakup - Never Eat Alone [1:59m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Spring Breakup - It's Not Me, It's You [3:39m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Pat entries acoustic, Canadian content, folk, Kim Barlow, Mathais Kom, Spring Breakup, the Burning Hell

I have a sneaking suspicion that Basia Bulat saved my life.

Well, probably not. But I’d be lying if I said she didn’t help me get my head straight, even if she didn’t realize it.

The year didn’t get off to a great start for me, if you recall. Mentally. I latched on to music in a big way in order to begin my turn-around into brighter days and Basia Bulat’s Heart of My Own played a huge part. Having been absolutely devestated by the Take-Away Show video for “The Shore” and it’s quiet, devastating beauty I couldn’t wait for more. If I’m being honest, I actually watched that video so much that I got a little crazy about it. I was mooning over a singer of songs.

By the time her February concert in Saskatoon came around I think a small part of my brain had convinced the rest of me that I was going to go to that concert and hear her play that song and I would charm her thoroughly and she would smile at me and I would die from happiness.

Like I said: mentally.

The show was transcendent, despite a torrent of sound problems thanks to whatever untrained bum was working the board that night. But Basia was an engaging, accessible, funny, gorgeous performer. I stopped by her merch table, which she was working herself, just to say hello. I was nervous, like a teenager, fumbling for something, anything to say. She had the last copies of her 7″ single, the Sam Cooke cover, “Touch The Hem Of His Garment,” a record I ordered the literal moment I found out it existed. We chatted briefly about how terrific Sam Cooke was. I was too chicken to ask her to take a picture with my tiny stuffed lion, Carlos, who is Twitter-famous (I took a picture of him in front of the stage while she was performing but it didn’t turn out; you can see him here having a bit too much to drink at Amigo’s Cantina before the show).

I’m sure that’s happened to a million other people before, but it was exactly what I needed. I felt an inexplicable adoration and while it may not have made much sense it felt good at the time just to be able to feel that.

If you perused the link above to check out what I thought of the album when it was new, you know I liked it. Frankly, I feel like it’s definitely in the top 5 best albums of the year. But it’s also a beacon of hope for me.

Listening to it now awakens that part of the brain that never lets go of the worst feeling of melancholy you’ve ever experienced, but only ever-so-slightly. It gives me the smallest little pang of what it was like to be alone every night after not having been for so long. It reminds me why I need to be grateful for the music (Basia’s and others) that got me through that period of time: because music is one of the world’s oldest emotional triggers and you never know what the songs that will help you get through your lowest points will be.

Moreover, it reminds me to be thankful for what I have now. I’m not sure Basia Bulat and I would have had anything in common if we ever had a conversation that extended beyond a mutual love of Sam Cooke songs, but I would imagine the odds are probably against it. What I do know now is that I’ve since found the right person for me, the person I was waiting for during that dark period. Listening to Heart of My Own makes me smile about the changes that were just around the corner without me knowing it, the way my life would be changed forever.

That I would find happiness again.

 

 Basia Bulat - If It Rains [2:33m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Basia Bulat - Gold Rush [3:33m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Basia’s had a big year so far too. She began working on new songs before travelling to Europe and has some Ontario shows planned. Buy some tunes to help her out here.

Pat entries acoustic, Basia Bulat, Best of, Best of 2010, Canadian content, life-savers, singer/songwriter

Pretty tough to really put into words how excited I am about this one, you guys. Laura Stevenson and the Cans are releasing a new album!

I’ve done you a disservice by not talking more about Stevenson’s debut EP. It sort of fell into the cracks after it was released in 2008, in the sense that I hadn’t heard it until early 2009 after I’d already put together my annual best-of junk. I kind of worry all of her and the Can’s future work will be overshadowed by that eight song collection, in fact.

Released under Stevenson’s name by Quote Unquote records, the donation-based download-only label run by her Bomb The Music Industry! bandmate Jeff Rosenstock, A Record is a shiver-inducingly beautiful collection of songs loosely wrapped around an incredibly unique and uniquely-powerful voice. The first sound you hear is Stevenson’s multi-tracked cooing on opener, “Baby Bones.” It’s a structure that flows through about half the songs here: her guitar and banjo are relegated to quiet accompaniment while her angelic vocals soar through every possible note in whatever key she’s singing in. Then there is “Landslide Song/The Dig,” a track with punk rock guitars and drums melding with a bright horn section. “Source and the Sound” could be a Mazzy Star track, synthesizer notes pushed to the front of the mix while distorted vocals are pushed lower. Drums and distorted guitar power chords cut in halfway through, adding to the syrupy feel of the song. With a group of contributing musicians, several of whom would go on to form her backing band The Cans, the short (23 minutes!) album cuts a wide swath through numerous sounds, textures, and genres. It feels like a full listen.

For me, the highlight comes with “A Shine To It.” Another song comprised entirely of finger-picked guitars and a mournful vocal performance, it’s a captivating contradiction. While the tenor of the song is decidedly maudlin, Stevenson’s lyrics are a testament to the power of love, or more accurately the power love can have over us. She talks about resorting to selling her own blood to buy baubles and trinkets she thinks might please her lover, who remains distant regardless. It’s a haunting, even heartbreaking song that shows the full power and majesty of her singing, let alone her guitar playing.

The same goes for her cover of BTMI!’s “It Ceases To Be ‘Whining’ If You’re Still ‘Shitting Blood’” — possibly one of the finest covers I’ve ever heard.

Which brings us to this week and the debut of the first track from Stevenson and The Can’s forthcoming album, Sit Resist, out April 26th. “Master of Art” follows the progression the band set out on with its Holy Ghost 7″, a more expansive, full-band sound that trends closer to rock than the intimate acoustics of A Record. It opens with a wink to Phil Spector’s 60’s girl groups with its kick drums and tambourines, bringing in some gentle shaker, electric guitar, and bass leading into a chorus that flexes just a bit more muscle. Stevenson’s voice hasn’t lost an ounce of its power, exploding into some impressive runs in the choruses and the lyrics pick up where the intimacy of her previous songs left off, though it isn’t without it’s own sense of melancholy.

I’ve been saying since I found out last year that this record would be coming out that it will be the best album of 2011. “Master of Art” only makes me believe that even more. Rcrd Lbl has the exclusive, get it from there below.

Stay tuned to the group’s web store for pre-order information or to get other tunes. Don Giovanni Records will be releasing it.

 

 Laura Stevenson - A Shine To It [2:56m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

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

Rae Spoon has told interviewers in the past that his songs are meant to be written with a certain sense of universality; that he prefers to have people glean their own meanings from his words; that they see themselves reflected in his experiences.

Thankfully he doesn’t always succeed, as some of the finest tracks on the virtually flawless Love Is A Hunter likely couldn’t have been written by anyone else. They are undoubtedly the direct result of a life uniquely lived.

Context is everything, so here’s some background: Spoon is a female to male transgender (please don’t call him “her”) whose early career consisted of touring as a country-influenced folk artist (literally touring with a single-string gut-bucket bass). Of late he’s begun incorporating more electronic sounds and elements into his music, starting with previous album Superioryouareinferior and continuing with Love Is A Hunter.

Foremost are two of the best tracks here, acoustic torch-ballad “Joan” and “Monsters,” the most rock and roll song on the album. Despite Spoon’s insistence of vagueness, the easy read on these two numbers is that transgendered persons face a significantly different set of challenges in finding and keeping love than, presumably, straight people do. Certainly both have a sense of menace lurking in the background.

“Joan” seems to see Spoon calling on the titular character to try and overcome the notions of people who may not understand or approve of their relationship or them as people: “We’re kind of wild/they don’t understand/because we’re not obligated/to be a woman or a man/and we are stronger together/we won’t hide when we’re hunted/let’s walk home holding hands.”

When viewed through that lens, “Monsters” is also a less-than-encouraging piece of lyricism. “You said that you loved me before I did you wrong,” Spoon laments. “We took a bus and you slept in my arms/but then the monsters took my hand/and the monsters took my eyes/and the monsters dragged you out of my life.” It’s a metaphor that probably does have some universality but also boasts plenty of gravitas in the hands of the former cowboy singer. Some abrupt tempo changes and reverby vocals help reinforce that jarring image with a vague sense of discombobulation and anxiety.

Love can be found anywhere on this album, as well as in any stage. “Death By Elektro” is an acoustic number with a melody so devastating you barely notice that the song is about
an equally shattered relationship. Connecting with a partner/potential lover is a bit of a recurring theme as well, providing the lyrical backbone for “We Can’t Be Lovers With These Guns On Each Other,” “You Can Dance,” “Lighthouse,” and “You Like All The Parties,” several of which continue his experiments in electronic sounds and near-dance music structures. It definitely seems like he’s trying to push himself as an artist with those elements; based on the lyrics and tone of the dancier songs it certainly seems like Spoon isn’t a big fan of dance clubs. The progression and refinement of those elements, however, are a natural progression after his work in 2009 with a German artist (if Norm MacDonald taught me anything it’s that Germans love techno).

I feel like I might be treading on ground I know nothing about, but here goes: Spoon seems like an introvert. From what I can tell that’s perfectly understandable given his background and the field he originally started performing in (I can imagine hicks don’t take kindly to transgendered folks singing them country tunes). Most of the songs here seem to either be about fighting personal demons that may or may not have something to do with that background and his efforts to find love despite those circumstances. The idea of love being a hunter or being hunted is a common theme on the album. Perhaps the difficulty of being transgendered, and what I have to assume is a lack of acceptance of transgenders in many if not most communities, leads to a fairly downtrodden outlook at times (on his last album, Spoon opined, “My heart is a piece of garbage/fight, seagulls, fight”).

Of course, interpretation is almost as important as context. I knew all this information about Spoon before I heard this album. I have the feeling that Spoon has achieved universality with these songs in the sense that, regardless of what lens you view the songs through, you can’t help but connect with them. Regardless of gender identity or sexual preference these songs can speak to the realities of all romantic relationships: the desire to be loved and to be loved well and to accept your place in another person’s heart.

I truly believe that words count, regardless of the medium. Rae Spoon has done an incredible job of putting forth a truly unique and fully-formed vision on this album. Our pal Emmet Matheson noted that Love Is A Hunter “contains a lyrical mastery…that approaches Leonard Cohen’s I’m Your Man.” If Emmet’s credentials aren’t bona fide enough, just listen for yourself. You’ll be overcome by this one.

 

 Rae Spoon - Death By Elektro [2:51m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Rae Spoon - Monsters [3:10m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Check out (and BUY) Rae Spoon tunes through his website which has handy-dandy links already there.

Pat entries acoustic, Best of 2010, best ofs, Canadian content, electronic, Rae Spoon, year in review

No offense, Daniel Romano, but you’re kind of a whiner.

Seriously dude. I know you think you’ve had it tough but you could be doing worse. I know your band, Attack in Black (which I love, by the way; each of your albums has been on my best of lists for their respective release years) was made to re-record your debut album to have a harder-edged sound than you wanted. That’s a total dick move, I agree. I know it’s impossible to say whether or not you’d be in the same position you are now if that hadn’t happened but even if it didn’t come about how you’d imagined can’t you be thankful for that exposure and attention?

I know your knee-jerk reaction was to immediately follow up the release of Marriage with an album you had complete control over. I loved The Curve Of The Earth too, with all its lo-fi home-recorded charm, a gentle counterpoint to Marriage’s rockinger moments. I thought showing off the full range of the band’s abilities was a terrific move and each release only made me even more excited to see what you’d come up with next. Years (By One Thousand Fingertips) didn’t carry quite as much water with me but it still had some terrifically engaging moments.

But I have to say the tenor of some tracks on your new solo record comes across as a tiny bit resentful of the acclaim and success Attack in Black has received. Don’t get me wrong — I really like the album. The relaxed demeanor and aesthetic continuation of your flawless work on the Daniel, Fred, and Julie record is such a good fit. The country tinge suits the songs very well and your melodies, as always, are captivating.

But as I mentioned in a live show review earlier this year it seems like you are a very unhappy fellow when it comes to actually making music.

The title track(s) and “A Losing Song” come off as a little bit petty after the strides you’ve made the last few years. Again, I know you’ve had some bumps and bruises in the business but the narrative that you’ve been done wrong and are a slave to music industry suits is growing less and less believable now that you’re in complete control of your fate: you’ve started your own label, you release your own records, and you’ve abandoned the sound that gained you notoriety in the first place. I know your write-up on this record mentions how you wish you could bury every copy of every record you ever made and I feel badly that you suffer from such a crippling case of self-doubt (if that’s what it is, I’m no therapist). Of course, it’s not easy to accept that as the truth, considering the ridiculously outlandish “biography” included on the back of the record itself.

And while music history is littered with people like Kurt Cobain who railed against their own success, it doesn’t change the fact that music is art and art becomes a commodity. If you’re not comfortable with that why bother releasing music? If the system is broken you have the option of divorcing yourself from it. We’re told most musicians make their money from touring and Attack in Black’s frequent jags across Canada are evidence you can live that lifestyle. Take your product off the sales market and you eliminate the commercialization of the art that you clearly hold so dear.

(Although, incidentally, if you’re so resentful of having to re-do that first full-length and having your music be overly commodified by record labels why didn’t you raise any objections when that label [which still releases Attack in Black's albums, I see] put out a 180 gram vinyl re-release of said album last year?)

You ask on this record, “Why should I play the chords? Why should I even make a sound?”

Well, you tell me. I know why I listen to you but if you’re feeling the need to question your own motivation you might have to actually come up with an answer at some point.

Anyhow, congratulations on your solo album. I really, really like it. It’s probably one of the best records I’ve heard all year. I just wish you could move on. I feel like dwelling on the past isn’t that healthy, even if it does inspire such good music.

 

 Daniel Romano - Workin' For The Music Man [3:29m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Daniel Romano - A Losing Song [3:30m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Workin’ For The Music Man is mostly available through Outside Music’s distribution arm, sort of. Zunior has a great digital package as well.

Pat entries acoustic, Canadian content, country, crybabies, Daniel Romano, record industry, the music business

One of the least-celebrated yet quietly-achieving local acts Regina has to offer, unyielding tunesmith Andy Shauf is releasing a new EP today. EP may be a bit of an understatement, though; Waiting For The Sun To Leave is actually eight full songs. Definitely a touch on the long side for an EP but a happy development as far as I’m concerned.

His full-length effort, re-recorded last year for a Hopeless Records subsidiary, was a masterful work that belies his young years. You can see it in the video above; Shauf is an effortless performer, unleashing a song with ease in any setting. He may challenge Jonathan Richman for quietest playing but his voice is assured and his guitar work is sharp and flawless.

He recently got a quick write-up in some fancy New York magazine’s blog that I can’t remember. He’s touring the United States of America. This is his third release for an American label. And yet Andy Shauf can’t buy a headline here at home. There may only be one of him (as opposed to the much-inked masses in Rah Rah and Library Voices, whose collective membership could fill a trio of dragon boats, I’m sure) but his accomplishments and accolades are comparable to any other Saskatchewan musicians.

 

 Andy Shauf - The Darker Night [3:58m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Andy Shauf - Your Heart [2:07m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

digital: iTunes seems to be the major carrier
For woefully infrequent tweeting action you can follow Andy on the Twitter machine here. His website has occasional updates if you’re into that sort of thing.

Pat entries acoustic, Andy Shauf, Canadian content, folk, P Is For Panda, Regina

It’s a weird thing to hear Old Man Luedecke mad.

The banjo-pickin’ east coaster has such a gentle and unassuming air about him, both in person and on record, that to hear him so starkly call out war mongers and greedy capitalists in a song is a little bit jarring. Of course, Luedecke’s idea of strong language goes something like, “Woe betide the doer of the deed,” so it’s not like you’ll have to cover the ears of small children or anything.

We haven’t written extensively about Luedecke but I think I’ve sung his praises some. His songs have an easy way about them, a generally cheerful, upbeat frenzy of banjo picking and even-tempered bass. Nothing has really changed on his new album, My Hands Are on Fire and Other Love Songs; he still lives in a world where daughters are sent to fetch water from nearby rivers, men pine wistfully for ladies, rodeo men ride home to their women-folk, and (presumably) people still play the banjo.

But on “Woe Betide The Doer Of The Deed” he’s taking an uncharacteristically real-world, political bent. “The gravy train has thinned out in the rain of Wall Street washing down the drain,” he opens, “and when you made off I hope you got paid off, that your money tastes of blood and your hands are stained.” You might wonder if Luedecke got snowed by the market crash, so fierce is his venom: “May your white collar choke you,” he sings, “while the fires of hell stoke you. May your children ever live in shame.” It’s a moment that stands out simply because of its contrast to the rest of the material presented here. It spares no prisoners, going on to condemn the U.S. war in Iraq as the result of shameful entitlement.

I have to admit, it comes from an unexpected source. Folk music has always proved fertile ground for protest songs but coming from the guy that wrote “At The Airport”? Even if it seems like an odd fit, however, Luedecke does a brilliant job with the song. In an age where Bright Eyes’ Conor Oberst performing a song critical of George W. Bush on Leno is as close as we come to protest singers this is a welcome addition to the genre.

The rest of the album is quite good too, by the way. You should check it out.

 

 Old Man Luedecke - Woebetide The Doer Of The Deed [3:58m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Old Man Luedecke - At The Airport [2:40m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

You fan find the record through Black Hen Music here:
~ CD
~ Zunior
~ iTunes

Pat entries acoustic, Canadian content, folk, international relations, Old Man Luedecke, the economy

Would you like to hear what joy sounds like?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

Pat entries acoustic, Jonathan Richman, legends, smiling