Sound Salvation Army

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Starting fresh is the name of the game for Swift Current’s The Hard Ramblers. The roots music trio provided local colour to the festival roster as well as one of the “folkiest” sounds in this year’s line-up. The group has a decidedly bluegrass feel to it, the kind of bluegrass you’d find on a compilation record featuring the likes of Bill Monroe, Lester Flatt, and Earl Scruggs, genuine outlaw bluegrass with rockabilly bass lines and furiously picked guitar and banjo. Call them cousins of a group like The United Steel Workers Of Montreal, with perhaps a little bit less fire in the belly.

When Eliza Doyle (songwriter, singer, banjo-ist) approached us at the CJTR tent during our Saturday broadcast she was a little bit nervous, asking about what kind of questions we wanted to ask her. Our tack was pretty simple; Doyle and her bandmates are starting over after years and years in other groups. Doyle herself had actually appeared at the festival before years ago, as you’ll hear in the interview, with her band The Cracker Cats. But this was her new trio’s first kick at the can and they were eager to show the crowd what they’re made of.

The band’s appearance had a lot to do with the release of their first album, a collection of 14 tracks of fairly aggressive twang. The collection is a mixture of originals, traditional numbers, and antiquated covers that suit the band very well. Doyle, stand-up bassist Paula McGuigan, and guitarist Jody Weger’s voices all come together in delightful harmony, trading off lead and backing vocals as easily as can be. The content is exactly what you expect it to be, tales of romantic longing and prairie scenescapes rendered simultaneously familiar, energetic, and timeless.

Listen to the interview below to hear Doyle’s perspective on introducing a new group to a familiar audience and building from the ground up.

 

 The Hard Ramblers interview: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 The Hard Ramblers - Hard Travelin': Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 The Hard Ramblers - Flatland Boogie: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Reginans can get another taste of The Hard Ramblers’ medicine this Thursday, August 18th when they return to town for a headlining show at the delightful downtown venue The Creative City Centre. You can find it on the third floor of the old Leader building at 1843 Hamilton Street. Tickets are just $8 in advance, $10 at the door.

Pat entries #RFF11, Canadian content, country, folk, live music, Regina Folk Festival, roots, The Hard Ramblers

It’s that magical Regina Folk Festival time of year again!

We’ve done some cursory coverage of the festival in previous years but we’re going full-tilt this time around, as the kind folks in the front office have decided our site is an “approved and well-established website” and thus is worthy of media accreditation. That means I’ll be down in Victoria Park all weekend long taking in the sights and songs for the entire festival.

There’s a lot that I’m looking forward to, although some people are saying this year lacks the punch of a really big name to draw a sizeable crowd. That might be borne out by the fact that none of the day’s passes have been sold out yet.

However, if you can’t get excited about K.D. Lang’s return to the crown jewel of Regina then you’re a damn fool. Festival artistic director Sandra Butel told the media earlier this year when the line-up was announced that there are some festival die-hards that still talk about her breakout set at the festival in 1985 and what an incredible revelation it was. That sounds like a show worth seeing, never mind the fact that she’s had 26 years to polish her show. Her new album Sing It Loud (which comes on the heels of a two-disc greatest hits package issued last year) finds her reinvigorated by her new backing band, The Siss Boom Bang (a name, I admit, I hate). It’ll be a tough set to beat, I’m quite sure.

Closing out Sunday night is Hawksley Workman, a performer with no shortage of stage presence or desire to wow a crowd. He’s also in a creative peak, having released two complete albums in the span of about a year and a half. There’s no way he’ll play the song I’ve posted below but by god that would be something, wouldn’t it? Having never seen him perform live it will be interesting to see what kind and how fervent an audience he’ll draw on the last night of the show (which, by the way, could have rain if the forecast holds true).

Let’s not forget the artist with the most pedigree in the bunch. Taj Mahal is most often described as a blues artist but he is also known for folding world music elements into his guitar-driven numbers. I’m not sure if or how often he’s been in Saskatchewan but I’d be surprised if it hasn’t called to him in the past; the American singer has a serious passion for farming. As a younger man he was forced to choose between his two passions, having graduated with two agricultural degrees before going into music full-time. He’s a classic of the genre that I can’t wait to see.

International flavour is always a big draw at the RFF as well, and this year is no exception. Butel explained that she worked with artistic directors of other western Canadian folk festivals to ensure that acts like Etran Finatawa, a group of musicians from two separate African tribes that joined together in unity to promote peace among their people, had a string of dates across the country that would ensure it would be fiscally viable for them to come to the country. Quebec resident Marco Calliari has deep Italian roots and accesses them in his solo work, which has been compared to the high-energy melodic frenzy of Gogol Bordello. Honduran Aurelio Martinez plays a variation on the percussion-driven Paranda style of Garifuna music (in addition to being an incredibly-captivating singer.

Hip indie kids will have their run of great acts too. Vancouver’s laid-back acoustic song-slinger Dan Mangan, violinist and whistler extraordinaire Andrew Bird, french-speaking QC piano ingenue and tattoo maven Béatrice Martin (aka Coeur de Pirate, represented below with a track by her side project Armistice, which sees her singing in English for the first time), east coast quirk-rocker Shotgun Jimmie, indie rock upstarts Braids, and the newly-revitalized children’s songsmith Fred Penner will all take the main stage. All have their own uniquely melodic styles and I’m dying to see all of them.

And that’s just the main stage. The free daytime “workshops” on Saturday and Sunday are always a big reason to head back to the park outside the headliner hours. Local/provincial superstars like Library Voices, Slow Down Molasses, Jeffrey Straker, Zachary Lucky, Rah Rah, and the Hard Ramblers are all involved in the free day events, in addition to main stage appearances.

And the beer gardens last ALL DAY now! All day! Amazing!

 

 Armistice - Mission Bells: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Dan Mangan - Robots: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Etran Finatawa - Kel Tamasheck: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Hawksley Workman - Warhol's Portrait Of Gretzky: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

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

 

 Taj Mahal - Fishin' Blues: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

It’s all so much to take in! You can get the full details from http://www.reginafolkfestival.com and tickets can be bought from the festival site starting on Friday. DON’T MISS IT!

Pat entries Andrew Bird, Aurelio Martinez, blues, Braids, Canadian content, Coeur de Pirate, Dan Mangan, Etran Finatawa, folk, Fred Penner, Hawksley Workman, indie rock, Jeffrey Straker, k.d. lang, Library Voices, Marco Calliari, Rah Rah, Regina Folk Festival, rock, Shotgun Jimmie, Slow Down Molasses, The Hard Ramblers, world music, Zachary Lucky

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

Laura Stevenson sings like she’s exorcising demons.

It’s an inexplicable fact that can’t be ignored: she can have all the backing band she wants, but me? I’m showing up for that voice. That incredible, soaring, searing, voice, that voice that can do anything it’s told.

On their first full-length record Stevenson truly becomes one iwth her backing band The Cans, and long-time listeners and new fans alike reap some incredible benefits from that meeting of the minds. Fans of their previous releases get eased into what is ultimately and undoubtedly one of the top records of 2011. The opening track, “Halloweens Pt. 1 and 2″ came across as painfully lo-fi on the Bomb The Music Industry split 7″ that came out last year. Like all the songs on Sit Resist it has a comparatively glossy studio sheen that is enhanced by an impeccable mix and mastering. Where the lows on the 7″ were so low as to require one to crank the volume only to have the speakers burst when the full band comes in on the back half. The new cut has a bit of a smoother transition, not entirely sacrificing dynamics but making it a lot easier to listen to.

Now, nitpicking aside, let’s talk about the songs.

I wrote rather enthusiastically about “Master of Art” and it’s wily “Be My Baby”-aping opening drum beat a couple months ago, but it’s remarkable how stirring that song remains after a LOT of repeated listens. The best way to describe the multi-tracked vocals on the song’s back end might be to quote the immortal words of Garth Algar: they wail.

The song also represents a few thematic and lyrical examples that carry themselves all the way through the record. One of the last phrases in the song is, “The wait is just a little longer,” a word and concept that comes back in spades on two tracks at the album’s end (companion pieces “The Wait” and “The Weight”). Time appears to be something that weighs heavily on Stevenson, showcased in the next song “Caretaker” as well, in which she implores herself to write down her childhood memories before leaving the home she grew up in behind for good. The future looks bleak in “The Healthy One” as well; while it’s one of the jauntiest numbers (thanks to playful accordion and xylophone) it’s also an incredibly bleak tale of an entire family being decimated by disease, leaving just one little child behind to spend the rest of their life alone.

On the other hand is “Red Clay Roots,” a song that transcends time itself. Stevenson explained in a recent interview with AMP magazine.

I wrote that song after I found my grandma’s unfinished manuscripts. She was writing her memoirs before she died and she told me she was going to name it “Red Clay Roots” when she was finished, but she never did finish it. It’s about her growing up in Greenville, South Carolina. Her mother was a bottle smasher during the temperance movement, and her father and three brothers all drank themselves to death, but she pulled herself out and moved to New York to sing with Benny Goodman. I wrote the song to sort of celebrate her story because she didn’t live long enough to tell it herself.

The song is an eery, tin can-sounding recording that features a dusty distortion on a spare acoustic guitar part and several vocal tracks. The layered singing and humming that make up the bulk of the track create an incredibly subtle but moving effect. The lyrics hew closely to the description you see above, creating a whole package that would be perfectly comfortable on the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack.

For me the album culminates with the final three songs. “The Wait” is the perfect embodiment of how timely yet out-of-their-time Stevenson and the Cans are. It’s pretty rare that you hear someone who is only 27 sing about their “life’s work” and “waiting for a train to come” and actually BELIEVE it. The band builds to it’s most raucous moment yet, electric guitar, trumpet, and drums all chiming in a melodically cacophonous coda that wanes into “The Weight.” Its finger-picked acoustic guitar and strings provide a temperate, gentle denoument to that moment of passion and fury while the repeated lyrics and withering tone of Stevenson’s voice emphasize the point: the wait is killing her.

Even more disarming is the record closer, “I See Dark,” a track that re-establishes the band’s penchant for experimenting within a familiar sound (something Stevenson did in spades on her first 8-song album, A Record). While it opens with some waltzing accordion, there are a few breaks of discordant distortion that might sound more at home on an Explosions In The Sky record. It works its way out with singing so pained and vulnerable it has to be genuine; Stevenson has revealed in some interviews that when the band raised the idea of changing the song from its recorded form she broke down in tears. She says it’s the most personal song she’s ever written.

The songs on Sit Resist aren’t upbeat summer jams. Stevenson writes from an extremely personal place and more often than not the subject matter, if not the backing music, is undeniably bleak. But for my money you won’t hear another record like this all year. It’s modern but respective of musical history, it’s powerful without resorting to power chords and screaming, it’s personal without being overly confessional. There isn’t a bad song on here and there isn’t a song you won’t find engaging on some level. As I said before, Stevenson is singing like she’s exorcising demons. I wouldn’t wish ill on anyone else but if that’s what it takes for her to keep writing songs like this then I hope she never finds salvation.

 

 Laura Stevenson & the Cans - The Healthy One: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Laura Stevenson & the Cans - The Wait: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

If you’re quick you can download Sit Resist for free from the LS&TC tumblr. Albums can be bought physically from that site and the album is on iTunes too.

Pat entries accordian, Don Giovanni Records, folk, indie rock, Laura Stevenson, Laura Stevenson & the Cans, Laura Stevenson and the Cans, rock, vocalists

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

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