Sound Salvation Army

Said The Whale could be coasting right now. Coming off a phenomenally well-received full-length album in 2009 the BC band has been pushing through several cross-Canada tours, dropped into the States for an extensive sojourn that included an appearance at SXSW, and won a Juno for New Group Of The Year. And while it hasn’t been without it’s low points, that’s a pretty good year or two, you guys!

Regardless, it appears the band’s creative streak is also in full effect. Today marks the release of a new EP called New Brighton, the precursor to another full-length album set to come out in the new year. In just four songs it’s readily apparent they’re moving on to bigger and better things. Things being songs.

“Camilo (The Magician)” was the break-out single from their first record, Islands Disappear, but I always felt like “Out On The Shield” was a better representation of what Said The Whale is capable of. In under three minutes it speaks to Canadian geography, the legacy of remote territories, and the workers and jobs that are tied to them. It also does it with a brisk tempo, upbeat choral vocals, and a flawless, cascading melody. It’s all the band’s potential rolled into one.

New Brighton succeeds because it parses out each of the elements that made that song work, puts them into four new songs, and expands on them.

Single “Lines” boasts a terrifically bouncy backbeat, driving along a pure pop melody that is brilliantly reinforced with jaunty keyboards. Call it a power-pop number with a little less power, the cooing “ooh-la-la-la” background vocals reminiscent of a purer era of pop music that feels right at home alongside the group’s modern sound. The gentle grace of the song dovetails delightfully with the EP’s closer, “Little Bird.” It’s a slow and easy folk song comprised of a patiently-strummed acoustic guitar, strings, and the band’s beloved glockenspiel that gives the brief album a sense of finality that brings the whole package to a close.

In my mind though the money track here is “Sandy Bay Fishing Song,” a song that echoes “Out On The Shield”’s Canadiana storytelling, a title that technically could refer to specific locations in Saskatchewan or Manitoba but, I’m sure, actually pertains to Nova Scotia. The actual setting of the song itself appears to be Halkett Bay in BC, which would be closer to the band’s Vancouver home. Regardless, it’s a virtuosic tale of a young man kissing his mother goodbye and venturing out under the cover of dark to go after the sea’s largest catchable foes, carrying on a legacy created by his father. It’s a tale that anyone who’s ever worked a rod and reel can relate to but it’s rendered as high-drama thanks to a heavily-percussive arrangement filled with calculating drum fills, punctuated guitar stabs, and some slinky bass slides. The vocals on the chorus also soar to nearly rhapsodic heights, particularly leading into a brilliant beat-shifting bridge.

In my mind, while all the songs of New Brighton are memorable in their own way, Said The Whale continues to be at it’s most effective when it’s capturing these tableaus of Canadiana, rendering them vivid as a vision and real as a spray of sea foam in the Howe Sound.

Here’s hoping with Little Mountain, a 15-song affair on the way in March, they continue to push that unique vision. If the track “Big Sky, MT” is any indication they might even be expanding it.

America should be so lucky.

 

 Said The Whale - Lines: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Said The Whale - Out On The Shield [2:56m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

New Brighton can be purchased through iTunes so far but I know there are CDs that exist because I got sent one in advance.

Pat entries Canadian content, EPs, Hidden Pony Records, indie rock, pop, rock, Said The Whale, teasers

Hey Ocean! was not an absolute nightmare. Far from it. The affable B.C. trio were as easy-going and spirited as their funky, laid-back pop songs would suggest.

Ashleigh Ball, David Beckingham, and Dave Vertesi are all attractive young folks with a relaxed air about them. While their bio material is frustratingly vague a quick perusal of archived interviews on the interwebs shows that Ball and Beckingham met while at a summer camp and formed a musical kinship that continues to bear fruit to this day. Presumably they share a love of modern pop music, but there’s also a very clear affection for their coastal home, as an awful lot of their songs reference the ocean, sunshine, etc (to an extent only Brian Wilson might be able to relate with). Its only natural, I guess. It’s a pretty goddamn nice canvas to paint some sunny, slightly funky pop songs on.

Of course, you can hear them talk about that and more in what I think might have been one of our longest interviews of the entire festival, linked below. Since I started writing this they have also released an entirely brand new song, which can be found on their old-timey, new-tangled Facebook page.

 

 Hey Ocean! interview: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Hey Ocean! - Turn Up The Stars: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

A very enthusiastic fan site, I Love Hey Ocean!, has links to both digital and physical music purchases of Hey Ocean! records. Check it out!

Pat entries #RFF11, Canadian content, Hey Ocean!, interview, live music, pop, Regina Folk Festival, rock

Sometimes it’s okay to listen to pop for pop’s sake. That’s something I’ve been working on this year.

After fighting with my co-writer extensively on the Twitter machine about Lady Gaga I found myself in a period of intense introspection, concerned that I was everything I was being accused of: closed-minded, snooty, more concerned with substance over style, a genre racist. Having considered it, I obviously don’t think that’s true (and I still don’t like Lady Gaga, despite listening to her album more than 15 times in an attempt to ‘get it’) and my sheer, unabashed enjoyment of Makeout Party is one reason why.

Like the first time I heard Ghost Town Trio it didn’t take much for the band to get the point across. From the first up-tempo track, “Clock Radio” (like GTT’s “Cold Machine” before it) I was hooked. The New Jersians/Philadelphinoids know how to craft an all-encompassing pop hook, add another five or six to the mix, and make an instantly-catchy song out of it. Warm textures, yearning vocals, bright guitar, downright cuddly harmonized back-up vocals, and flourishes of bells, keyboards, and strings all mesh into dizzying examples of everything that can be done right in the guitar pop genre. This is a fine slice of pop rock that concerns itself with heartache and all those sentimental feelings that classic pop rockers have tread upon before.

The EP is a teaser in the most literal sense. They admit it’s been a while since they put out any new material so they’ve dropped the 3-song set onto the web in a ‘donate-what-you-want’ page in order to remind folks they’re still hanging around and working on a new full-length, their second, due in 2011.

It’s rare that a release this short seems so familiar and comfortable while still being exciting. I’ll be eagerly anticipating that release while I attempt to track down their older material, that’s for sure.

 

 Makeout Party - Clock Radio [3:13m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Get the EP from the band’s download page
Older releases from Amazon and iTunes.

Pat entries EP, guitar pop, Makeout Party, New Jersey, Philadelphia, pop, pop rock

If Rah Rah were a character in a romantic comedy it would be the quirky best friend that is too adorable for words but serves mostly only as exposition for the story, prodding one of the protagonists into taking a leap of faith and overcoming their fears or some shit.

No, I don’t really know what that means. But it sounds good right? Well, so does Rah Rah’s latest album, Breaking Hearts.

These days the band itself is a wildly different configuration than it was in the group’s early days. It’s more than doubled in size and boasts more keyboards than the local university’s computer science lab (except not really). Thankfully Marshall Burns seems to be carrying the torch as the major songwriting influence, which is a good thing. But the other members of the group easily carry water in that department as well, making for some highly notable moments from back to front.

Like I said, this band is cute as hell. One need look no further than tracks like “Communist Man” and “Henry” — the former a (dare I say it?) “twee” number featuring ukulele and fragile lady vocals that gives the classic, “I fell in love with a bad boy,” storyline a twist, the latter a tale of unlikely love that comes to a head with the entire bland gleefully imploring their pal to, “lock that shit down.”

It’s hard not to love an album that opens with a song as taught and muscular, no-nonsense, and hooky as “Arrows.” The title track also bristles with energy and power chords, knowingly dropping everything but the vocal and some slight piano at just the right point. “What About Love?” is another cutesy tune that seems as delicate as the titular emotion itself, it’s galloping piano reminiscent of Regina Spektor and the wispy singing sounding subtly like the singer is afraid of what the answer might be.

But it’s not all whimsy and sunshine and smiles and candy and puppies and kittens and love and adorableness. The most powerful cut on the album comes roughly halfway through with the exquisite “Salty City.” In its nascent stages Rah Rah didn’t shy away from writing about Regina as a city (or calling out its business-friendly mayor in song). It returns to Regina on this track, which sees drummer and vocalist Erin Passmore giving perhaps her most impassioned performance as a singer. It’s a synthesis of the frustration a lot of us feel after the winter squalls hit the prairies, how the streets and sidewalks too often feel all but abandoned with little beside the dirty, salty snow and an embarrassing amount of litter to keep us company. The wind blows hard, creating an even more oppressive and depressing environment. Passmore’s voice distills all that and more into the highs and lows of this song. It’s awesome.

The multitude of players on this album never seems to overwhelm the songs; there’s a wide range of instrumentation but the crafting of songs is skillful and you never get the sense there are too many cooks in the kitchen. Even the short, flighty songs that are little more than ideas gently fleshed out come and go, never overstaying their welcome.

It seems the band’s growth spurt has launched it past an awkward phase altogether, instead transforming a tiny group with a healthy dose of sass and spunk into a full-grown pop music contender. Breaking Hearts maps that transition beautifully.

 

 Rah Rah - Arrows: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Rah Rah - Salty City [3:42m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

They link to iTunes for potential buyers, but as is usually the case with Young Soul Records groups no physical option is mentioned. I might suggest your local record shoppe.

Pat entries Canadian content, collectives, cutie pies, pop, Rah Rah, Regina, rock

And just like that, they were gone.

I just got home from the Polymaths’ farewell show. It was just like the first time I saw them play at O’Hanlon’s years ago: a similar stage set-up, the same wallflower posture on most of the band, the Polylamp. Probably a lot of the same faces in the same crowd at the same bar, the same smiles calling for the band to “chop chop” until there are no more notes left to play.

Even now, having arrived home and listened to nearly their entire discography (all 90 minutes of it) I can’t tell if the set was short or if it just seemed short. There were songs that didn’t get played, but that’s not really the point is it? Every track that was there deserved to be; this band never wrote a bad song.

There was even a song that never got released, the last song the band’s current iteration wrote, apparently. It was good. It was, completely unsurprisingly, about living in Regina all your life and how that can hold you back. It had, also unsurprisingly, a “la la la”-style refrain that was impossibly catchy. The crowd, I’m certain, would expect nothing less.

After an “encore,” an encore, and The Real Encore The Crowd Wouldn’t Leave Until It Got (”Lumberjack Rock,” duh; I still can’t believe they didn’t even practice it beforehand) it was over. There were hugs, there were handshakes, they packed up their gear.

And that was it.

They were also literally giving away whatever merchandise they had left. And yes, I took that as a tacit approval of what I’m about to do: post the entirety of Home Again for you, dear reader, to download. There is no hyperbole involved when I say that this record is perfect. You must hear it.

Download here, for a limited time only.

Below you’ll find one last track streaming, from the band’s equally brilliant EP. It’s a favourite, but it’s not the favourite. It was perhaps the most appropriate song of the night, but it wasn’t the closer. You’ll also hear a song from the full-length, the one that would’ve played over the climactic end sequence, maybe the credits, if the band were a movie.

On a night where it was still 21° celsius at TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING; where it was so humid and muggy even at 11:00pm people could be seen on the bar’s patio fanning themselves with their hands and holding a cold beer to their forehead; on a night when the stage must’ve been hot enough for a band to consider going on strike against the weather one last time; the Polymaths said goodnight.

 

 Polymaths - Strike!: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Polymaths - Burst Into Flames [4:22m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Stay tuned to Urban Planning Records to keep on top of post-Polymaths projects. Some already exist!

Pat entries Canadian content, farewells, indie rock, parting is such sweet sorrow, Polymaths, pop, Regina, rock, sadness

An acquaintance of mine once insisted she didn’t “get” Stars. Namely, why two vocalists she insisted weren’t that talented were pushed so prominently forward in the mix on their records, why the songs were always centered around some kind of melodramatic romanticism.

But it’s those two elements that are so central to what makes Stars Stars. It also serves to both elevate their new album, the Five Ghosts, and simultaneously drag it down.

It takes only a cursory listen to any Stars song to realize that, yes, Amy Milan and Torquil Campbell are not the most showy singers; they don’t have Roy Orbison’s range (a suspected four octaves; respect) or Peabo Bryson’s bombast (huh?) or Susan Boyle’s dynamism (what?). Their performances are generally breathy, low-key, sometimes thin, all but whispers. But it’s less the singing than the devastating melodies those voices carry across to the listener that really count.

The one-two punch of “Dead Hearts” and “Wasted Daylight” is without a doubt the strongest album opening the band has ever had in that respect. Where other records have begun with drawn-out, meandering introductory pieces the Five Ghosts cuts right to the chase with one of the most memorable vocal melodies the group has ever produced. “Wasted Daylight,” one of the album’s more propulsive, building musical numbers is also boosted by a lilting and plaintive vocal melody. While much of the album doesn’t share the same lightness or brightness, the melodies remain the most prominent feature of Stars’ work.

And say what you will about the weight and gravitas of their voices, but Milan and Campbell have rarely sounded as versatile and, well, GOOD before. Their parts are clear, impassioned, and distinct and they continue to reach a new plateau every time out.

But it’s the other half of the songwriting equation where this album fails to capture my imagination. While the band did strike it big with “Your Ex-Lover Is Dead” (their most organic, orchestral songs to date) the vast majority of their career outside of the Set Yourself On Fire album has been based in electronic and keyboard sounds. The Five Ghosts might be their most thoroughly synthesized album since their earliest EPs, a fact which I’m not really that fond of. A band with this much pomp and drama, both lyrically and musically, comes across as seriously maudlin over the course of 40 chilly minutes of down-beat keyboards. I’m sure a lot of it has to do with personal preference, though; to me heartbreak is so much more tangible on a song like “Personal” (from the previous LP, In Our Bedroom After The War) that’s built around guitar and piano than the distant drum machining and swirling, atmospheric synths of a track like “He Dreams He’s Awake.” Again, maybe that’s just me.

Tonally this album once again lays the melodrama on pretty thick. Drama is a central tenant to what makes this band tick, but the rays of sunshine are surprisingly few and far between. In a recent interview Campbell told Exclaim! he always saw Stars as a band that makes “sad dance music” and that’s definitely true here. But there is virtually nothing uplifting, nothing in the vein of a “Look Up,” “Take Me To The Riot,” or “Ageless Beauty.” Everything here is death, aversion to change, zombies (unless I’m reading something into “Dead Hearts” that isn’t there), unappealing potential paramours, and fistfights between lovers. The final coda of the album declares, “Winter lives in my bones/it’s all I’ve ever known.” That seems like an all too fitting way to end this record.

I suppose it was just a matter of time until Stars let me down. The trilogy of their last several full-length albums has been too perfect; the other shoe had to drop sooner or later. The first half of the Five Ghosts is very good, and “Changes” is a pleasant surprise tucked into the latter half. But the majority of this album feels too cold, too distant. It’s a moody piece of work that is either not fitting my current frame of mind or is just a little too detached and depressing. I’m still not entirely certain.

 

 Stars - Dead Hearts [3:29m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Stars - Wasted Daylight [3:43m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Pick up the Five Ghosts in every conceivable format from the band’s web store. They’re also touring for pretty much the rest of the year, but (as they did earlier) they appear to be skipping Saskatchewan entirely.

That’s one more rung you’re slipping, Stars.

Pat entries Canadian content, indie pop, keyboard-gasm, keyboards, pop, snubs, Stars

Sorry for the unexpected downtime, avid readers. I’m assuming one or two of you noticed, anyway. We’ll try to avoid that next year. Please accept my apology in the form of a short mix of some of the best songs you’re going to hear this year.

Library Voices
Call them local favourites if you will but Library Voices stands on their own merit. Their debut full-length came out this past Tuesday and managed to find it’s way to the fifth spot on the iTunes sales chart. Pretty fucking good for a bunch of fauxhemians from Regina. It isn’t hard to understand after setting your ears on the lead-off track and first single, “Drinking Games,” found below. Combining some Beach Boys-style harmonies and a copious amount of handclaps (underpinned by a quietly melancholic melody and lyric) it’s an engaging and infectious slice of pop perfection. And it’s got a fantastic video to go along with it.

Ted Leo & the Pharmacists
Ted Leo is an all-time favourite of mine and it’s great to see him back on his game. Inspired by 80’s hardcore (more in tenor and aesthetic than sound), the Brutalist Bricks sees Leo and his latest batch of Pharmacists pounding out his most focused collection of songs since Shake The Sheets. Not only that but it also features what might be among his greatest songs ever. “Bottled In Cork” distills a wide range of international sentiment towards Americans in the light of Bush-era foreign policy into three minutes and fifteen seconds that’s jammed with a whole pile of wordiness. He doesn’t shy away from the song’s central melody for a moment, pushing it constantly to the forefront and leaving it out there until it sticks. And stick it will. The frantic, infectious drumming and a ripping guitar solo don’t hurt either.

Cursive
If there’s one thing Tim Kasher does well consistently it’s tension. This highlight from Mama, I’m Swollen (a bit of a WTF album title if ever there was one) has it in spades. Music and art have often been a stand-in or metaphor for sex in Kasher’s songs; consequently sex has often been a topic of much attention and contention in his writing. Needless to say, the underlying meaning here is as clear as day. Like the best intimate encounters it stars out quiet and subtly and builds to an energetic and unrestrained climax that only makes you anxious for the next one. If you caught the band’s amped-up performance of this track on a certain late night TV show (don’t worry if you didn’t, we’ve got you covered) you’re already sold, but a single listen to the track should do the job also.

Silver Starling
The slow-burner of the group, this track serves as the big, slow-moving hook that opens this Montreal band’s self-titled debut. Tanis has previously mentioned them and their ties to certain Canadian indie rock royalty, so we won’t re-tread that. Instead I’ll simply say that the coy, pained delivery of the vocals in this song tell all the story the lyrics forget to. The expressive, redolant vocals of Marcus Paquin might be their strongest weapon. I’m surprised I haven’t heard more people talk about this album. We might have to do more on this one in the near future.

So there you go, folks. Sorry for the two week lapse. Stay tuned for more of what you’re used to and maybe some new things here and there. We’re working on some pretty big projects for the summer and if my plans come to fruition it should be a busy but productive time.

 

 Ted Leo & the Pharmacists - Bottled In Cork [3:18m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Library Voices - Drinking Games [4:24m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Cursive - From The Hips [3:55m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Silver Starling - Something Over Nothing [4:24m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Library Voices: Find Denim on Denim on iTunes or in stores. First EP can be found at Zunior as well.
Ted Leo: Physical albums through Matastore, merch is available through his webstore and albums are digital via iTunes (with bonus track)
Cursive: Albums are all available through this here webstore and digitally through the iTunes
Silver Starling: Digital purchases through Last Gang and the iTunes. Might have to check stores for physical purchases.

Pat entries Canadian content, Cursive, indie pop, indie rock, Library Voices, pop, pop rock, Silver Starling, singles, Ted Leo

“As we’re waiting for the light to change we see this goth girl run to cross the street. A goth girl, running. You don’t often see goth people run. I think because obviously it spoils the whole image, right? You can’t be in a hurry and goth.”
~ Paul F. Tompkins

Call it what you will: an identity crisis, a marketing ploy, or a gradual evolutionary progression of older musicians that don’t drink as much anymore but are still trying to maintain an edge of darkness and desperation in their music. Old-school Alkaline Trio fans have been lamenting the bands steady slide into faux-Satanic caricatures for years. With a new album on its way it appears we’ve got a ways to go before they leave that affectation behind.

This latest album, This Addiction, was said to be a return to form for the group; they’ve come back to long-time producer Matt Allison and his Atlas Studios for the recording, they’ve pared back the maddeningly thick layers of overdubs and effects that have weighed down their last few records, and they even promised a return to the spirit of their early work. They may have succeeded to a large extent, but you know what they say about close only counting in certain situations and circumstances.

Alkaline Trio’s early recordings were fueled entirely by alcohol consumption, heartbreak, and self-loathing. Their brutal lyrical confessions went hand-in-hand with downright poetic allusions and turns-of-phrase; “Even Christ himself would cringe at the sight of your scars,” went the first song from their first full-length, setting the tone for four nearly flawless albums. But those elements have slowly dwindled, being replaced by an ever-expanding faux-goth sensibility that manifests in a lyrical obsession concerning all things hell, darkness, poison, vampires, death, and gothness. Bassist/singer Dan Andriano seems to be the only member not circling that particular drain, but with only three contributions to this album he doesn’t have the presence to counteract the cloying “darkness” of the other members.

But taken as a whole I would call this record a success, although their attempt to regain the spirit of their earlier work seems to mean re-appropriating elements of older songs in a new context. These things will likely be immediately recognizable to long-time fans: “The American Scream” recycles a guitar riff from “Warbrain,” the band’s contribution to the Rock Against Bush releases from five or six years ago. “Dead On The Floor”’s opening riff is vaguely reminiscent of “Southern Rock”’s, while the rest of the song reads like a more sombre “‘97.” Andriano even lifts a lyric from “Private Eye” and drops it into “Dine, Dine My Darling” (which is a great play on an old Misfits song title).

But those are minor quibbles. There are only so many power chords available to a band and if we’re being honest with ourselves there has always been a familiar thread running through a lot Matt Skiba’s guitar arrangements. It’s punk rock; they’re not reinventing the wheel. On the whole this is a very worthwhile effort and there are a lot of quality songs on here. “Dead On The Floor,” “Dorothy,” “Piss and Vinegar,” first single “This Addiction,” and most of “Lead Poisoning” definitely embody the spirit of their first records. “The American Scream” is the anti-war songs Skiba should have written for Agony & Irony instead of the god-awful cliche horrorfest that was “Over and Out.” “Draculina” is a perfectly serviceable song, although the lyrics are packed to the gills with the goth-lite keywords mentioned above: an Alice In Wonderland reference, knives, a character trapped in their “own living hell,” blood/bleeding, bullets, birds of prey, stinging bees, heaven, angels, demons, dark secrets, teeth “sinking deep” into someone’s flesh, the devil, and exorcism. And yes, an adult put all of those words into a single three and a half minute rock song.

That song aside I would argue there are only two big missteps here. The first pertains to the third track, “Lead Poisoning,” and is the reason I included that quote from Paul F. Tompkins at the start of this piece. It’s a classic four-chord Alk3 stomper with big hooks and a strong vocal from Skiba. But my issue lies in the trumpet solo that comes at the 1:50 mark. It sounds like it was lifted from a NOFX album circa 1996; it’s bright, it’s bouncy, and it’s definitely a playful move from a band that has really opened itself up to experimenting with new sounds in the last five years. But much like you don’t see goths running, there’s a reason you don’t hear a lot of horns on Bauhaus records. It just doesn’t fit the aesthetic of a song when Skiba is singing about getting poisoned, laying his weary head down to sleep, and praying to his dark lord. It’s incongruous, almost comical-sounding, given the context, but at least there is a good song wrapped around that moment.

“Eating Me Alive” isn’t quite so likely. I had previously chastised a song from their last record as Skiba’s most terrible work yet but he’s dug an even deeper hole this time around. The lyrics are simply embarrassing. More importantly they’re lazy, hackneyed, and trite. “You can’t sit there and tell me that I didn’t try/And I can honestly tell you that I never lied”? Really, Matt? Did that need to be said? And the guy can’t even muster up the guster to sing this song with any level of conviction. I’m pretty sure you can hear his own fucking eyes rolling as he’s singing the words, like he’s staring up at the ceiling wondering how it all came to this. I’m pretty sure overly dramatic, suicidal teenage girls will even laugh at this song. It’s just the worst. Skiba probably should realize that its okay to only have 10 songs on your album. You don’t need the filler.

And the song itself! What? I know Skiba said you were listening to The Cars a lot when they recorded Agony & Irony but that really comes through on this number. Everything but the chorus is draped in some pretty gross keyboards. I mean, I’m not a huge fan of keyboards but it just sounds like a different band.

As mentioned, Dan Andriano continues to be a big part of the reason I keep coming back to this band. While he only has three songs on this record (I assume he’s saving more for his new band/solo project, which I’m very pumped for) they continue to be some of the album’s strongest. That goes double for “Fine,” another strong Dan closer on par with From Here To Infirmary’s “Crawl.” It’s also a song about drinking too much and denying how messed up you really are. Talk about your classic Trio! Musically he continues to wear his Jawbreaker influences on his sleeve, something I will never ever ever complain about.

I guess what this all amounts to is the problem most people inevitably run into if they follow a band for a very long time: reconciling new directions with old perceptions. But for the first time it kind of feels like even Alkaline Trio themselves might be getting tired of their blood-dripping, faux-Satanic imagery. It’s been feeling more and more forced over the course of their last three records and I’m kind of hoping This Addiction proves to be the breaking point where they leave that phase behind. Based on the evidence here I’d say that could only be a good thing.

 

 Alkaline Trio - Lead Poisoning [2:37m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Alkaline Trio - Fine [3:17m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Pat entries Alkaline Trio, legacies, nice tries, pop, punk rock, the goths

While the name Dojo Workhorse implies two things that are very physical and manly, you might get an entirely different sense from listening to this debut album than its sobriquet might suggest.

See, Dan Vacon doesn’t shy away from talking about his musical influences, even in song. As previously mentioned in our review of his band’s last album, the song “Ghosts We’re Buried On” discusses the roots of Vacon’s love of music. He’s described the Dudes brand of rock and roll as Al Green meets the Flaming Lips. The dude is the modern embodiment of white-boy soul. This album is his attempt to illustrate that fact, but it’s not the tempestuous brand of soul. There is no gittin’ on up-ah. This is an album that is alternately gentle yet celebratory, lovely yet concerned with lovin’.

I suppose the easy way out of this review would be to say that this is the sensitive side of the Dudes frontman, a more acoustic-leaning, down-tempo distillation of their most passionate moments. But that’s not quite the whole truth, as far as I see it anyway.

To begin: this might be one of the loveliest albums released this year from a musical standpoint. The stable of contributing musicians has clearly been carefully chosen and every note is lush and vibrant, from the subtle handclaps of tracks like “Misbehave” and “I Got Life” to the buoyant horns littered through the majority of the tracks to Vacon’s gently intimate, at times pleading, vocals. I can imagine many young ladies turning the lights down and listening to this record in the bathtub. Relaxing!

But sensitivity is only one part of the puzzle. While the majority of these songs are tender, balladic even, he keeps his sense of humour intact. The intimate and self-reflective nature of most of the songs doesn’t lend itself to some of the humourous premises posited in some Dudes’ songs, although hearing Vacon attempt to woo a potential paramour by quietly insisting, “Fuck what your girlfriends say/let them pay for tomorrow/their time is borrowed/give me today,” could bring a smile to one’s face. One the Dudes-liest moments comes in the same song (”Misbehave”) when he opens with the incredible, “I want to hold your hand/but I’m a modern man.” I’m not sure what that means, but it’s entertaining.

However there’s a bit of a catharsis inherent in those asides, which are littered throughout a number of songs. Vacon posits the record as a more serious endeavour, a more intimate and insightful work. There are several tracks here that are downright heartbreaking: the trio of songs falling in the middle of this record (”Late For Life,” “Laval Street,” “How To Be Lonesome”) are as honest and affecting as any I’ve heard in a long time. They perfectly embody the beauty and catharsis of life and its numerous frightening realities. There are stirring string arrangements, french ladies singing and some genuine human regret and emotion. But when the songs on either side of that suite utilize filler lyrics that completely pull you out of the moment it is completely and genuinely disappointing.

To wit: Vacon’s plea in “Ohio” to a lover: “Angel, spread your wings/and get us the eff out of here.” This injection on “Truly Wasted”: “And I’m like, what the fuck?” The aforemetioned kiss-off to a lady’s girlfriends.

I understand that young people like to curse. I do it an awful lot myself, so much so that it drove my mother off of Facebook. I have no doubt that it’s reflective of how Dan is in real life and how he relates his feelings and how he writes. But it seems purposefully anachronistic and jarring when set against such beautifully orchestrated songs. It makes those portions of the songs feel half-done, half-considered.

Now, I can forgive it in proper context. “I Got Life” is the inverse of Marvin Gaye or Sam Cooke’s gospelizing, an athiest anthem that is confident but not antagonistic. He sings, “I feel alright/I’ve got the lord in me/which is a surprise/because I don’t believe in nothing” and “Don’t if feel good not to be a total asshole?/No one ever goes to hell, go on, forgive yourself/I am good just because I am/heaven can’t tell me nothing.” That I identify with, and not only because I share the same philosophy. But in the context the word “asshole” comes off somehow smoother, more properly-placed.

I really like this record. I love the huge string parts, the sprightly acoustic guitar, the horn charts, the flutes, the acapella closer, the incredible melodies and harmonies. I love the honesty of these songs. Without the few lyrical bumps in the road this is an absolute winner.

 

 Dojo Workhorse - the Universe [3:28m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Dojo Workhorse - Laval Street [2:35m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Dojo Workhorse - Road Prayer [2:43m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

The band’s official website seems non-functional, but their myspace directs purchasers to Amazon Canada. There’s also this site, although it seems to be major label affiliated. They edorse iTunes as well.

Pat entries Canadian content, Dojo Workhorse, indie, pop, soft rock, soul, the Dudes

I don’t even know what’s going on here.

When this record first came on my iTunes without my knowledge (after sitting there since April without a single spin) I had to check and see who it was. I had no idea it was arguably Canada’s most iconic, instantly-recognizable rock band. Normally we likely wouldn’t be writing about the Tragically Hip on this website, but the fact that someone has been able to take a band with a signature sound that is ingrained in the very fabric of an entire nation and render them alien is a feat worth noting.

To Americans: I honestly don’t think there is a band that hews as closely for you as the Hip do to we Canadians. Its like AC/DC is to Australia, only not as meat-headed, generally less offensive to the senses and more polite. The very essence of Canadian. They’ve been around more than twenty years, issuing a series of albums that are generally hard to find fault in. A few of them achieve greatness, the majority are at the very least good. Their singles are staples of rock radio across the nation, but they’re rarely as annoying a Can/Con presence as Avril Lavigne, Celine Dion, or Bryan Adams. One might say they were innocuous if they weren’t so widely adored: they are members of the Canadian Music Hall of Fame and have the record for most number one debuts on the Canadian Albums Chart.

But on this album things are different. Their constant double-guitar, meat and potatoes rock has never been as universally muted across a set of songs; singer Gord Downie’s outpatient-off-his-meds wailing has never been so missing-in-action; the mood has never been so gently self-reflective.

It all starts with the deliciously understated “Morning Moon,” an alt-country tinged number soaked in harmonies and backing vocals, an equally harmonious mix of slide guitar leads and acoustic rhythm, and a vocal performance that pulls back hard on the reigns. Downie sounds like he’s staring off into a sunrise, gently relating a tale of days gone by. One of my favourite tracks follows: “Honey, Please” has a bit of adult-contempo sheen to the production, but some light piano and organ serves as a reminder that things are a little different here. The vocal melody soars into a delightful falsetto I didn’t even know Downie possessed. “The Last Recluse” uses the Canada Goose as a lyrical touch-point, and the marvelous “Coffee Girl” is a revelatory number that almost sounds like an old Beck number (he and Cat Power are referenced in the song). It sounds a little odd to hear dudes that must be approaching their late 40’s (at least) sing about making mix tapes for baristas, but the shuffling beat and muted trumpet solo in the bridge should make you swoon long enough to forget the source. Early on in “Now The Struggle Has A Name” you’ll swear someone entirely different is singing.

The sequencing of the album really serves to push the difference in sound. The further in you get the more familiar the elements and songs become. Downie really doesn’t even sound that much like Downie until the nine-minute “The Depression Suite,” where he reaches the full heights of his tenor in the pleading tone we’ve grown so accustomed to over the decades. From there “Queen of the Furrows” sees the Big Rock Guitars making their first real return, but they sound lower, almost dull in comparison to other Hip records. Its hard not to think producer Bob Rock is intentionally cutting the band’s machismo a bit (Metallica fans are already familiar with that procedure). Single “Love Is A First” has Downie returning to some of his more clipped, bombastic vocal tones as the electric guitars continue to try and reassert themselves. In the old days this song likely would’ve lead-off the album, waving the anthemic rock flag as proudly as in decades past. “Country Day” plays the band out with an amalgamation of the disparate halves, with processed strings and nearly-choral backing vocals swelling beneath a perfectly Hip-ish mid-tempo rock tune.

This will no doubt be a divisive release. On one side, Coke Machine Glow and its band of merry Hip-sters. They eschew anything so corporate and mainstream as a Bob Rock-produced album and are calling this the only truly awful Hip album ever, lamenting the fact that guitars are muted while cheesy strings are pushed to the top of the mix on a handful of songs. On the other, old people who are aging right alongside the band members and are really enjoying the softer take. They first heard of Feist in a Starbucks or an iPod commercial and they insist this is the bold new direction of a band reinventing themselves (though they still think the rock songs are back-loaded on the album and really, there should probably be more of them).

The Bob Rock angle is intriguing. I think I can genuinely say this album would be very different if it wasn’t for his influence, but I’m not sure how far from their comfort zone the band would’ve strayed with someone else behind the board. Its clear they went into the recording session with a strong focus on approaching the songs from a different direction, but I wonder what might have happened if, say, We Are The Same had been self-produced.

Listening to this album without prejudice is nearly impossible for any good Canadian, but for one that hasn’t listened to a Hip album all the way through since 1998’s Phantom Power its a welcome and intriguing break from the storied/staid idea of the Hip as Canuck Rock Gods. This is a band I would listen to on a Sunday morning while cleaning up from the night before, the soundtrack to contemplative moments of isolation and self-reflection.

 

 the Tragically Hip - Honey, Please: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 the Tragically Hip - Coffee Girl: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

The Hip have a ludicrous amount of merchandise available through the Maple Music site, including hockey jerseys. iTunes can also help.

Pat entries Bob Rock, Canadian content, mainstream, pop, rock, the Tragically Hip