Sound Salvation Army

This independently-released album might be the single most astounding, fully-realized release of 2010. And yes, that includes Kanye West’s record.

Expectations are undoubtedly low for a mostly-local band when they put their first record out by themselves. Logistically speaking it’s tough for them to get ears on their music. That’s obviously changing with the internet but I’m willing to bet if there’s a thousand bands with songs on Bandcamp there’s a million. It’s a lot to wade through. That’s why I’m thankful for sites like Herohill, the east coast-centered blog site that is constantly shedding a light on the seemingly never-ending glut of quality music coming out of Canada’s easternmost regions. Their review of It Kills’ debut self-titled album last year (and the mp3 posted with it) spurred me to get in touch with the group immediately, purchasing the record through CDBaby within minutes.

The Halifaxians (?) make music is that is huge and engaging, right from the first moments. It begins with a guitar and some very dry reverb, laying out an urgent rhythm that will serve as the backbone for most of the nearly eight-minute opening song, “Dragons.” Considering there are only three members the songs are remarkably textured, with instruments recorded and processed in a variety of ways; at times, guitars and the vocals that occasionally find their way into the mix to add atmosphere and texture sound like they were recorded from the other end of a distant hallway.

I know that for some people (mostly) instrumental post-rock can seem like the same trick over and over, the fragile beginning and ending with a compulsory build-up and peak. It Kills have none of that sameness thanks to the carefully-arranged songs that are at times long, self-contained pieces and at times fragments of a whole, movements that lead into and out of each other at a split-second’s notice.

Take, for example, “Le Coup,” which has nothing but a classical-sounding string arrangement for much of its running time, only to shift gears into a nearly-choral vocal chant that transitions into the dramatic and ominous piano, guitar, violin, voice, and drum structure of “Jump Kid.” The guitar figure from “Dragons” (or one eerily similar) pops up for just a moment, helping the sense of continuity along. The song’s last note is a piano chord that is absolutely hammered, but one that actually comes after the start of the next track, “Sinners,” which utilizes another bridge of wordless choral singing to transition into the upbeat “Sailors.” The rhythm of “Salt” and the cadence of the violin riff (do violins riff?) clash fiercely, leading to the layered “Smoker,” perhaps the most atmospheric and subtly frightening track.

And so it goes, for nearly 40 minutes. This genuinely thrilling record is a study in the texture of music, juxtaposing consonance and dissonance, drawing varied emotion purely from the sound of it all. It seems almost foolhardy to try and describe it, but these incredibly dense experiments work flawlessly at evincing tension, anxiety, joy, confusion, even fear.

Let’s have more of the same, please. As soon as possible.

 

 It Kills - Sailors [4:12m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 It Kills - Old Song [5:34m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

So far I’ve only found the album available for purchase from the aforementioned CDBaby link. Do yourself a favour and get it.

Pat entries Best of 2010, Canadian content, independent, instrumental, It Kills, post rock, self-released

For a band that has always asserted its punk rock spirit, the group’s new EP Peacemaker is probably the softest the City Streets have ever sounded.

That’s not a bad thing.

In fact, even if you don’t venture further into this eight-song collection than opening track “Windowpanes” you’d best consider yourself lucky. It sets a remarkable tone for the generous EP, a gorgeous opening number that really shows the depth of understanding of the human condition this band has. Still young men, the group, led by prolific songwriter Rick Reid, presents a startlingly mature and insightful perspective on life in all of their work and “Windowpanes” is just one more example. It wistfully recalls the diminished scale of adulthood, how as a child something as simple as spending a night in a hotel with nothing to do seems like an adventure; as a grown up the closest you can come is trying to recall how it felt to have that experience in your advanced years. Certain things may stay rigid and unchanged, but in the context of memory there’s something else at play: while the things we derive pleasure from are constantly shifting we don’t have to be devoid of pleasure. Reid relishes in the simple pursuit of the feeling.

While the band’s music never comes close to the kind of reckless hedonism such a philosophy might suggest, they seem to enjoy and exploit their ability to constantly change their sound in subtle ways. This record carries “Windowpanes” wistful, contemplative vibe throughout its entire running time, making it a stark contrast to the comparatively harsh punk rock tones of 2010’s The Jazz Age, one of my favourite albums of last year.

It’s easy to see how the two fit together and where the divide between them lies. Texturally, Peacemaker is closer to their previous full-length, cleanly and sharply produced; The Jazz Age was steeped in reverb, fuzzed-out bass, and furiously-strummed power chords, it’s production and arrangements giving the songs a calculated grit and danger that matched the lyrics perfectly.

The Jazz Age and its accompanying aesthetic is perhaps best summed up in the track “Irish Rose.” It’s Reid at his most damaged, a whiskey and cigarette-ravaged growl taking the place of his usual cleanly-sung vocals, standing in for the gutter heroes of punk rock’s yesteryear. References to drug use and women that are no good for you, sung from the perspective of a man that’s no good for anyone, paint the picture of a tumultuous downfall that plays its way through the album’s length before reaching a kind of redemption in the final song.

It’s a big rock record that stands as a singular feat, but one that also cries out for Peacemaker, a quiet companion piece that serves as the logical cool-down to it’s predecessor’s righteous fire. Built more around acoustic guitars and gentler rhythms, the songs here feature more stand-alone hooks and traditional song structures (choruses are back!). Even better, crossover-country sister act Myrol provide some sublime vocals that flesh out Reid’s melodies in a whole new way.

One of two tracks available on the group’s website, stand-out “Outside A Lover” could be a duet from Elvis Costello’s quieter moments, its casual pace and plucky guitars frame a sultry duet that is a perfect showcase for Reid and the Myrol’s. The lyrics are fairly surface-level but the demanding love story and folk pop backdrop makes for one of the band’s most accessible songs to date.

Perhaps it’s the Myrol influence manifesting in the music, but there are more country influences than normally manifest on the City Streets’ records. It’s most prominent on “Red Light Runner,” where shuffling drums and pedal steel guitar work alongside Reid’s vision of a dusty little town. “St. Avarice” also melds the group’s rock leanings with a shuffling old-country beat, dusting off the spirit of a ramblin’ man looking for a good woman to change his life (until he remembers that women aren’t good for him after all).

“Neon Lights” is the lone menacing piece here, the thundering toms and anxious bass compressed and high in the mix. It’s a moody piece about conflict in relationship and how a person’s identity can be affected by something that may or may not be something after all.

On The Jazz Age the group sang about, “the disappointment of imagined lives,” a narrative that allowed them to develop character pieces about people likely more damaged, dramatic, and deluded than they ever will be. Peacemaker offers a more real-life set of circumstances, hewing closer to a more relatable, everyday experience. But these songs never come off as plain or recycled. Following their muse has helped this band create some seriously interesting pieces of rock and roll and it is and always will be a treat to see where their seemingly boundless creativity takes them.

 

 The City Streets - Windowpanes: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 The City Streets - Outside Of A Lover [3:33m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Buy Peacemaker and more at the group’s website or iTunes. Check out Myrol’s webstore as well.

Pat entries Best of, Best of 2010, Best of 2011, Canadian content, Edmonton, indie rock, Montreal, rock rock

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

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

It seems like every punk in the world is setting aside their power chords and picking up an acoustic guitar these days. I have to say, it’s getting a bit tired.

Too often there’s some kind of affectation to it, like the only kind of non-punk music punks feel comfortable playing is something akin to old outlaw country: songs about booze, bottles, women, and hard times. Fun at first you guys, but you’ll never be as good as Drag The River so why bother trying (Greg Graffin of Bad Religion being one of the worst purveyors of warmed-over country and Americana on albums so bad even the Weakerthans couldn’t save them)?

Chris Wollard’s solo work has proven much more satisfying to me, an example of what can happen when a truly gifted musician follows whatever muse captures him. While the first solo track he put out was acoustic it had much more of a straightforward rock or pop feel. His surprisingly flawless debut full-length, recorded with his band The Ship Thieves, spanned a ridiculous amount of rock niches from 90’s alternative to power pop to sensitive ballad.

No one would ever mistake Wollard’s previous full-time gig in Hot Water Music as immature, so it sounds not-quite-accurate to call his solo/Ship Thieves work more mature. It’s a different kind of mature, with tracks on the self-titled LP carrying a decidedly grown-up tone. “All The Same” is about a couple who fall asleep on the couch watching a movie, foregoing a night out for a night of rest. “Oh, Whatever” sounds like an apathetic anthem on the surface but it’s informed by enough age and experience to feel genuine and reasoned in its misanthropy. “Hey B” resonates with the endless weariness that only decades on the road can create.

Which brings us to Wollard and the Ship Thieves 2010 release, an untitled 7″ with two songs that showcase how much further the band has moved ahead of that first album. Both songs are considerably more up-tempo; A-side cut “Anybody Else” is the most rocking song they’ve committed to tape yet. The song has an insistent, bouncy bass line and a simple pop-rock guitar chord progression that doesn’t even bother to try taking center-stage. The constant snare strikes push the song along with every beat and you can see the smile on Wollard’s face despite his consistently-gruff singing.

“Left To Lose” is slightly reminiscent to the LP’s “You Always Leave,” thanks to it’s brushed-snare drumbeat, vaguely recalling country the latter’s country leanings. Wollard’s acoustic guitar, world’s away from the damaged back-porch sound of he and fellow HWM frontman Chuck Ragan’s Rumbleseat recordings, takes the lead once again with a bright set of open chords and a sprightly-picked lead. The catchy chorus may be short on words but it’s long on hooks, the falsetto sections bringing Wollard closer to genuine crooning than he’s come before.

It’s clear Wollard and the band have come into their own as a cohesive unit, operating under a hive mind that is producing songs that are as dense, brief, and catchy as possible. The body of work he’s released under his own name is definitely more full-realized than The Draft, the band he formed after HWM’s collapse with HWM’s bassist and drummer. That project seemed like it was still aiming for HWM territory but was unable to reconcile the fact that that previous outlet simply didn’t exist anymore, that the dynamic had shifted. This 7″ may only be two songs that end far too quickly but it’s enough to make it clear that this band is a living, breathing entity, that is fully realized and has its best work ahead of it.

Oh yeah…and then there’s this thing.

Or more specifically these things. It was a busy year for Hot Water Music, just like it was for Chris Wollard and the Ship Thieves. His reunited band continued to play gigs all over the world and No Idea Records, HWM’s long-time home, continued to issue new volumes in their Live In Chicago 7″ series. We’re up to four now and it’s a magnificent collection, especially for die-hard fans like me who haven’t yet been able to find their way to one of those shows.

Captured at a reunion date at Chicago’s legendary Metro theatre, each record contains four songs from what was a speedy, lively, and furious set. Some of the records are mostly old songs, some are split, some have mostly new songs, but all see the band firing on all cylinders and not missing a single intricate note.

The packaging is terrific. Each record is on its own colour of vinyl, corresponding with the coloured insert in the record, and the covers are die-cut with the band’s classic logo.

Just for fun, here’s a few of those tracks for fans like me. I’ve been lucky enough to be on top of the order rushes when they go on sale, but each of the four volumes is now completely sold out. Var, No Idea’s mastermind, has indicated that we’ll get up to at least six chapters so make sure you keep your eye peeled.

 

 Chris Wollard & the Ship Thieves - Left To Lose [2:26m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Chris Wollard & the Ship Thieves - The Same To You: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Hot Water Music - It's Hard To Know (live at the Metro) [3:21m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Hot Water Music - Rooftops (live at the Metro) [2:59m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Hot Water Music - A Flight and A Crash [2:14m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Hot Water Music - Alachua (live at the Metro) [3:37m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

You can get the second pressing of the Anybody Else 7″ from Sound Study Recordings in their web store. It’s a limited run of 500! On lavender vinyl! The always-amazing No Idea Records also has them for sale in their distro catalog. No digital for this little number, but iTunes has the eponymous LP.

Pat entries 7" singles, Best of, Best of 2010, Chris Wollard, Chris Wollard and the Ship Theives, Hot Water Music, indie rock, live music, No Idea Records, pop rock, reunings, rock

I love it when a group I’m quite literally completely ignorant of hits me over the head like a brick with a song that comes totally out of left field.

Admittedly, my expectations were low for Cold War Kids. Not being familiar with their previous works, I checked out their 2010 EP Behave Yourself on a whim and was knocked on my ass. The California band apparently emerged as one of those annoying blog-buzz bands that I never bother to listen to (sorry, Black Kids/Clap Your Hands Say Yeah/whatever). Thankfully, I somehow missed the buzz altogether.

The track “Coffee Spoon” seemed like a revelation from the first spin, despite the confused central metaphor that gives the song its title. Singer Nathan Willett’s off-the-charts-high falsetto evinces the best of white-boy soul, as does his plaintive vocal melody in the chorus. The chord progression that underpins the falsetto sections is busy, constantly shifting, filled with fingers fervently hammering on notes only to retreat just as quickly. It’s a slinky, bouncy descending melody that is as good as I heard throughout 2010. Now, if only someone could explain to me how a human is at all like a coffee spoon (maybe his girlfriend dumps sugar directly down his gullet every morning?).

Being an EP this collection of leftover tracks from years gone by is admittedly brief. It may also explain why it’s so good, depending on what reviews of the bands two most-recent full lengths go: reviewers who have followed the band all the way along seem to suggest that they peaked with their debut LP and are slowly sliding into mainstream blandness with their latest.

But the rest of the EP is just as strong as “Coffee Spoon.” Lead-off number “Audience” is an insistent stomper whose piano chords help hold support a fuzzy, plodding bass-line; airy back-ground wailing and harmonies from Willett flesh out the mix as well. The re-recorded “Sermons” (which has appeared in different forms on two previous releases) is a terrific slow-burning soul number and “Santa Ana Winds” builds to a dramatic flourish, riding on the upper register of Willett’s voice. The latter two make some reviewer’s comparisons to Jeff Buckley seem rather on-the-nose, as Willett is absolutely swinging for the fences with very reminiscent results.

Song for song this is definitely among the strongest short-players released in 2010. It’s also a good primer for their brand new, just-released album as well (if my first listen is any indication.) While critical analyses of their latter-era results may be anything but flattering, I have to admit that my first listen to the newly-released Mine Is Yours has been overwhelmingly positive. It is quite slick, no doubt thanks to the large part Kings of Leon (BARF! WORST BAND IN RECENT MEMORY!) producer Jacquire King played in recording, producing, and mixing the album. It’s unabashedly pop, but the pop sensibilities of Behave Yourself are what drew me in. At this early point in my knowledge of the band’s recorded output I’m more than happy to hear more of their pop side.

 

 Cold War Kids - Audience Of One: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Cold War Kids - Finally Begin [3:41m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Physical copies of the band’s latest album are right here. iTunes is at this link. Older releases, including Behave Yourself are over here.

Pat entries America, Best of, Best of 2010, Cold War Kids, EP, indie rock

Punk rock is a foreboding place.

For all its overtures of inclusiveness and its posturing as a home where all misfits can be accepted and find a community it’s often the home of severely critical “fans” who will turn on a group at the drop of a hat for any perceived slight from “selling out” to “changing their sound.” In other words, growth and individuality, setting oneself apart, can be all too frequently punished if it doesn’t fit within the acceptable norms. The Satanic Surfers, a punk band from Sweden, wrote a great song about this very topic on Fragments and Fractions. I’d post a link to it, but you’re unlikely to find it on YouTube or most free music downloading services. That’s because the group was mostly written off by the majority of “punk rockers” after their 1999 album Going Nowhere Fast because their songs got slower.

Maybe that temperament is changing. There seems to be nothing but love right now for Connecticut band Hostage Calm. After an album of mostly by-the-numbers melodic hardcore the band abruptly shifted gears, seemingly devouring a glut of disparate musical influences and taking a hard left turn into pop alchemy for 2010’s self-titled record. While still based in punk rock structures, there are a ton of 80’s pop and rock influences manifesting inside of their tunes. They cite influences like early Beatles, Ted Leo, the Smiths, and more as having shaped the album. Think tambourines, cooing Brian Wilson-inspired backing vocals, acoustic guitars, bright piano chords, and calculated time signature shifts all surrounded by power chord riffing. And that’s just “Rebel Fatigues.”

The closest analog to the band’s new-found sound, and perhaps to some extent an explanation for its popularity, is the once-defunct and in-the-midst-of-reuniting Gatsbys American Dream. A band that was always ahead of its time, I can’t help but hear shades of Gatsbys’ unnervingly deft musical interplay at work on tracks like “Ballots/Stones” and “Jerry Rumspringer.” The pervasiveness of the harmonies is also something Gatsby had in spades. I’m not suggesting Hostage Calm is appropriating elements of their sound, but I’m perfectly willing to admit that some level of nostalgia for GAD has played a big part in my enjoyment of Hostage Calm.

Hostage Calm is, however, much more up-front about the political nature of what they have to say politically. Their sound might trend towards the timelessness but their words are very much in the here-and-now. “Ballots/Stones” is an indictment of California’s Proposition 8, a referendum vote that banned same-sex marriage in the state (which was overturned in 2010). “Rebel Fatigues” offers a look at the on-going wars in Afghanistan and Iraq from the perspective of the people in those countries and how they live their lives with a constant military presence, regardless of the status of combat or training missions.

As an aging punk rocker I often find myself really not caring at all about the glut of mySpace/screamo/pseudo-metal-posturing bands that have overrun the genre these days. Hostage Calm is proof positive that some of the younger cats still in the game still like to think outside the box and mix it up, to keep things interesting. I may still feel like an aged punk but sometimes I’m okay with less screaming and more melody.

That having been said, readers of the site are well aware that when I do feel like some throat-ravaging shouting to go along with my melodies I usually look no farther than the delightful O Pioneers!!!. With an injection of new camaraderie and creativity thanks to his partnership with the members of Toronto’s pop-punk proletariat in Junior Battles the plucky Eric Solomon is forging on with a band that has had its share of rocky moments.

The new year promises to be a big one for O Pioneers!!!, as they’ve already booked a small tour with Hostage Calm and are preparing to release a 9″ vinyl split with Andrew Jackson Jihad on famed Florida label No Idea Records (one of the few labels in modern punk O Pioneers!!! has yet to issue release a record with). It’s going to melt your face, if new track “Oak Island” is any indication. A perennial favourite every year, 2011 promises to be a good one; hopefully the year that Solomon deserves after working so hard to keep this band afloat.

 

 Hostage Calm - Ballots/Stones [2:29m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Hostage Calm - Rebel Fatigues [2:55m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download
 O Pioneers!!! - Oak Island [3:10m]: Download

Hostage Calm’s self-titled album can be purchased from Run For Cover Records. Digital through iTunes (why fight it?).

O Pioneers!!! albums are all over the place, so a distro like No Idea or InterPunk are probably your best bet. Some digital is on iTunes as well.

Pat entries Amurrica, Best of 2010, best ofs, genre mash, Hostage Calm, O Pioneers!!!, pop rock, punk rock

Wow. It’s been like a month since I’ve posted any work here. That shouldn’t be surprising. If it weren’t for Tanis’ holiday music playlists in previous years there would probably have been similar gaps throughout this site’s existence. I make no apologies; the holidays are the busiest time of the year for most of us.

Now. We all know this is the time of year for the annual “best of” lists and run-downs of the hottest jams of 2010. Trying to put together an actual list, however, is the most laborious and annoying task of the year for me. Ranking seems more and more pointless with every passing year; I certainly know that I didn’t hear all of the albums the preeminent publications and web sites are lauding. If I’m being honest, I frankly couldn’t care about a lot of them: Ariel Pink, Vampire Weekend, Best Coast, Wavves, Marnie Stern, Drake, MGMT, Beach House, Caribou, Erykah Badu, The Walkmen, Yeasayer, and countless others have been appropriately fawned over enough already. I have either not had time to properly, thoroughly listen to them or I gave them a cursory glance and simply wasn’t immediately impressed. That doesn’t mean I won’t return to them at a later date and hope they grab me; but if we’re capping off my music-listening experience for the year, it has to end somewhere. I’m only one man.

That being said, expect a little different take this year on how I present my favourite listens of 2010. As opposed to the usual listing I think I’m going to try and focus on a more thorough presentation. A lot of my favourite albums haven’t actually been reviewed in full on this site yet and that will most certainly happen as we move through November.

I think it’s also within reason to say my mindset and general outlook is 100% different than it was earlier this year. With that in mind, I’m also hoping to re-visit some of the 2010 albums that have been previously discussed on SSA in an attempt to see how the listening experience has changed and why those that have remained at the forefront of my listening habits throughout the last 12 months haven’t been knocked loose.

And yes, I’m hoping to do a comprehensive look back at Lollapalooza, the most ridiculous and satisfying concert experience I’ve ever had in life. It’s only five or six months overdue, right?

Any further suggestions or requests for the year-end wrap up is welcome — throw them in the comments, please!

 

 Death Cab For Cutie - The New Year [4:06m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Pat entries Best of 2010, best ofs, year in review

Someone call the cops! Shad was robbed!

Admittedly I really like Shad. I made that clear when his last album came out. It may be cliched for a white guy who occasionally listens to independent music (re: mostly) to say he likes “conscious” rap music, but the fact that Shad’s music tends towards the cerebral is one big part of why I love that album. The same goes for Shad’s new record as well.

TSOL is a terrific progression from The Old Prince and it shows that Shad’s paying attention. He knows that music he’s been making for the last five years stands alone and he’s not venturing too far out of the arena he’s already occupying; instead he’s he’s tweaking the show only slightly while he waits for the audience to realize what he’s doing and file into the building.

The central theme to the album seems to be equal parts love and respect and a question of what and who defines those characteristics. Shad strikes a much more positive stance than on his previous album, the equally wonderful breakthrough The Old Prince. On that record he was much more down-trodden, even on the more excitable tracks like the attention-grabbing anti-bling “The Old Prince Still Lives At Home.” Despite the humourous bent of the song it was still at its heart about Shad not being able to make a living through his music, a theme revisited on other songs. “Out Of Love Pt. 2″ carried through a thread lamenting loneliness and the perceived negative impact it has had on Shad’s music.

But things have changed. Here he sounds downright ebullient, joyous, even. He’s still referencing bible verses, mentions his love of napping several times, and throws everything including the kitchen sink into his arrangements. But he seems like he’s enjoying the process more than ever.

A testament to that fact is the predominance of upbeat tracks on TSOL. Where “The Old Prince Lives At Home” was one of the only really upbeat, “banging” (I can’t believe I just wrote that) tracks on The Old Prince, TSOL boasts a few numbers that are downright rocking. Chief among them is the most rocking number and my personal favourite track, “We, Myself, And I,” one of the last songs on the record. Not only is it a highly bombastic track from a musical standpoint, it’s also lyrically ambitious (maybe even audacious?); after opening with a callback to his last record (”I don’t normally like to start verses with ‘I’ but…”) Shad offers three verses, each distinctly centering around analytical musings about himself, where he and his music fit in the world, and the current state of the world at large. The wordplay, the giant hooks, and his lyrical deftness is as impressive as ever on this track and its hard not to get swept up in his instructional chorus.

He’s also taking an inspirational stance here in more ways than one. Yes, he opens the record by referencing the bible; yes, he exclaims at one point that, “Staying true to Jesus (pronounced “Hay-zeus”) is harder than fake boobs.” But he also looks to his family for inspiration. He once again samples recordings of his parents at various points on the album and the gorgeous “A Good Name” is a tribute to his ancestry that has literally brought tears to my eyes. Shad traces his lineage to his family’s ancestral home in Africa and the larger-than-life figure his full first name is taken from while also offering his father the “mad props” he now realizes are well deserved for raising a family right despite the trials and tribulations of life.

As if Shad needed to differentiate himself any more, he also offers up one of the most respectful rap songs ever written about the women in his life. He offers thanks to his sisters, cousins, aunts, his mother, and every other woman in his life that is a “clever broad with goals like Federov.” And he means it.

All along the way the songs are jam-packed with live instruments, deft scratching, and a huge, full sound miles away from spare arrangements on old songs like “I Heard You Had A Voice Like An Angel.” Tracks like “Yaa, I Get It” (the closest he gets to cynicism and proof that even the most positive person can have their weak moments) and “We, Myself, and I” sound like organized chaos with sound coming from all directions at all times. Several tracks, most noticeably “Rose Garden,” feature well-integrated samples that, in some cases, provide or augment the hook.

Inspirational without being cloying or heavy-handed, clever without having to wink at the audience to let them in on the joke, personal without being self-obsessed (*cough* Kanye *cough*), honest without being a martyr, and unique without having to rely on bizarreness, TSOL is the rap album of 2010. You’ve outdone yourself, Shad. That Polaris should’ve been yours; hopefully you can still get your own place one of these days.

 

 Shad - A Good Name [2:28m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Shad - We, Myself, and I [3:42m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Get TSOL and other rad Shad works from iTunes.
Physical release and other merch (including an awesome “I want a Claire Huxtable” shirt) from Shad’s online store.

Pat entries awesomeness, Best of 2010, Canadian content, hip hop, rap, Shad

Listening to The Gaslight Anthem’s 2008 album the ‘59 Sound I heard a band starting to deliver on its promise. I had no idea what was to come.

The newly-released American Slang is the band truly delivering on their potential, finally and fully achieving the synthesis of punk, Springsteenian rock, and 50’s soul and R&B they’ve been patiently waltzing their way toward for the last five years. They’ve done away with crutches (the power chords and modern punk tempos) that supported them on much of their last two full-lengths and an EP (which, frankly, was pretty awesome despite being nothing but an awkward growth spurt).

How did they get here? Well, it’s pretty simple: they stopped fucking around. Primarily that means getting rid of the lyrical obfuscations that have marked their previous work. Frontman and songwriter Brian Fallon has spent most of the band’s past releases couching his songs in stealth, whether it was naming every woman referenced in his songs Maria or crafting tunes that referenced musicians he admires (often directly by name) with only the vaguest hints of story/substance clinging to those references. The closest he seemed to get to autobiography was “Drive” from the debut Sink or Swim, a song about driving the tour van. Not exactly painfully personal storytelling.

Ah, but here we get another view at Fallon’s emotional depth. All of the track’s here offer a more personal take on songwriting, including some that expand on previous hints of real-life heartache. For instance, “Bring It On” offers more about the broken relationship only hinted at in the ‘59 Sound’s brilliant opening missive “Great Expectations.” It’s a classic storyline flipped on its head, the male protagonist faced with a lover threatening to leave. It remains couched in Fallon’s vague reference to The Cool, presumably making it a period piece when Miles Davis’ new twist on jazz was invading the clubs and driving the boys and girls wild. An inexplicable air of nostalgia has always clung to Fallon’s songwriting an that’s no different on this record, as no less than three songs use a variation on the phrase, “When we were young” (an interesting tendency for a man in his early 30’s). The group’s most awkward moments have always been their attempts at modern, punkier songs so it makes sense to some degree that they’d run as far as possible in the opposite direction.

“Orphans” and “Boxer” are an uptempo back-to-back pair of tracks that might cut the closest for Fallon from a lyrical standpoint. The former concerns a formerly-young man lamenting on a lonely past and trying to find himself in the world; the latter tells the tale of a rough-and-tumble youngster who escapes into music and songwriting to escape the abuse he suffers at the hands of an overly-macho father. These may or may not be windows into Fallon’s past but even if they are character pieces it certainly gives some insight into the somewhat bleak undercurrent that can permeate his songs from time to time. But that tenor does conflict somewhat with his constant nostalgia; it’s hard to imagine someone longing for such a rough-and-tumble past.

Regardless, it’s refreshing to see the group has made a conscious effort to stop writing about their favourite kind of music and instead fold its influence into their own work. That’s most apparent in tracks like “The Queen of Lower Chelsea” and “The Diamond Church Street Choir,” which are laced not only with back-up vocals from the other members of the band (heretofore nonexistent on Gaslight albums) but also with several tracks of Fallon wailing at the top of his lungs, doing his best impression of a 60’s soul singer. The commitment and charisma he shows in those layered performances are genuine and so unexpected and engaging they nearly run the risk of calling the listener’s attention away from the song as a whole.

Fallon has said in interviews that he and guitarist Alex Rosamilia put in a lot of time simply getting better at playing the guitar in preparation for this album. That comes across in a much more sophisticated interplay between the two than on past records. While several songs here maintain the upbeat punk spirit of their earliest releases they’ve also tempered that by playing parts that go beyond simple power chords, emphasizing melodicism and muscle in equal parts.

The band folds Fallon’s new-found songwriting bravery and their musical maturation into brand new territory on “The Queen Of Lower Chelsea,” a patient, quiet tribute to a woman that’s letting life pass her by. The track is a bold new step for the band, focusing around a catchy, rhythmic lead guitar figure that serves as both hook and the anchor for the song, a melodic centerpiece that is returned to throughout. It’s a song that is 95% restraint, exploding only momentarily in a quick bridge section. The band immediately quiets back down again, save for some duelling background vocals from Fallon, tortured wailing that moves the band closer than ever to the early Clapton/Stones white-boy blues vibe that influenced the writing of this record. It’s a captivating listen and a masterfully-crafted song, perhaps their best yet.

The fuller sound that has resulted from Gaslight’s obvious efforts to just get better makes this album well worth the wait. Culminating in the tortured, plaintive wailing of the final track, “We Did It When We Were Young,” the record is a huge step forward musically in addition to being a long-awaited peek into the singer’s mind. After enjoying his vague ruminations on some of his favourite artists of years past, Fallon’s finally taking steps to ensure he and his band have a shot at leaving a legacy of their own.

 

 the Gaslight Anthem - Boxer [2:47m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 the Gaslight Anthem - the Queen Of Lower Chelsea [3:39m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Plenty of music and “apparel” available through the band’s webstore. Albums are digital through iTunes as well.

Pat entries Best of 2010, fusion, Gaslight Anthem, punk rock, rock