Sound Salvation Army

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

Spookey Ruben is Canada’s undisputed musical oddball. From his debut more than a decade ago with the song “These Days Are Old” (with it’s nonsensical “oodle-oop-wee-iy-iy-oh-oo-yeah” refrain) and the cracked genius of the video that accompanied it, he’s been the musical visionary that never quite made it into the mainstream. Despite a high-profile label backing his first several releases he never quite broke into the public conscious in a big way, despite some heady critical praise (one reviewer called his debut album the Pet Sounds of the 90’s).

There is an unbelievable amount of stuff happening on his latest album, Mechanical Royalty, so much so that its hard to say where to begin. Taken as a whole, you could argue that the entire album is a tribute to lost keyboard and synth sounds that have fallen out of vogue in the last twenty years. Ruben and his band have, in fact, been known to pull out a dozen keyboards while performing these songs live. They’re sprinkled so liberally throughout the record that you really only notice when they aren’t playing, as Ruben weaves them so thoroughly into the tapestry of the music that they feel at home despite the fact that some of them sound painfully aged.

Taking a closer look at individual tracks, Ruben seems to be focusing on reclaiming various genres as his own on the majority of these songs. The keys, retro production/instrumentation, female backing vocals, and lyrics of “If You Wanna Know” and “U Don’t Know What You’re Missing” come off like lost Prince b-sides from the 80’s. “Rachel” is straight-up classic pop songwriting, drum machine beats and roboticized backing chants bolstering a bouncy soundscape consisting primarily of acoustic guitar and keys and Ruben’s acrobatic vocals. “American Processed Cheese” wanders into ‘heavy metal’ territory with predictably Velveeta results. “Superpoke” riffs on Facebook and its impact on the social fabric of society, the heavily-synthesized instrumentation coming off just a few keys short of elevator music until a saxaphone solo straight out of Huey Lewis and the News knocks the floor out from under you.

The unmistakable centerpiece is the title track, a guitar-heavy paean to prog-rock mainstays like Rush and Yes, a story about war between an advanced race of robots and the humans that created them that spans seven “chapters” and 15 minutes. It doesn’t seem to offer much if any sub-text that might connect it to the industry term that its title refers to (the cut an artist/songwriter/publisher gets from the sale of a physical/digital piece of music), but serves more as a reminder that despite our proclivity for creating and obsessing over technology mankind can often let it take us over instead. It definitely reaches what seems to me to be the ultimate goal of prog music: showing off the talent of the musicians. Let me tell you, the chops on here are so huge you would think Vince Shlomi had something to do with it.

So what are we left with? A true individual following whatever bizarre muse inspires him, a collection of songs that sound fun even when they’re aren’t necessarily meant to be, and a butt-load of keyboards. It might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but Ruben has crafted a deft, well-produced, and thoroughly unique set of songs that speak to his quirky nature and inherent ability. Any fan of pop music should find at least a little something to like here.

 

 Spookey Ruben - Rachel [2:56m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Spookey Ruben - If You Wanna Know [3:26m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Check out the Ruben-ator’s stuff at Hi-Hat Recordings’ merchandiser’s website or on l’iTunes.

Pat entries Canadian content, keyboards, left field, pop, Spookey Ruben

Sound Salvation Army is generally a pretty positive place; that’s why it’s kept a fairly consistent updating schedule in the year and a half or so its been around. We write about what we like, so we like to keep writing. That’s not entirely the case today.

Remember these guys? They weren’t embarrassed by their limited musicianship, the fact that none of their songs had more than four chords, and the closest thing they got to insight was, “Disaffected 20-somethings like to jerk it and are bored.” Or, “Life in the slums is depressing.” Well, apparently they’ve matured. Sort of.

Green Day’s 21st Century Breakdown is virtually the same album as American Idiot, the opus from three years ago that made them the biggest band in the world (again). They sound and are structured virtually the same, broken down into “suites” or sub-sections that tell a story (but not really) of characters living on the fringes of society and railing against the mainstream. Which, of course, is exactly what the band is now.

This time around they’ve done it by convincing themselves that they are the Who. Its all built upon huge, windmilling guitar riffs and more bigger everything. Musically there’s nothing really new here, aside from a bit more piano and acoustic guitar. Its fine, really, but that’s not what’s important.

The real issue is that they seem to have started buying into their own hype, feeling the need to repeat the last trick that vaulted them to the top of the industry. Its something they haven’t resorted to in the past and that could be why it comes out smelling so wrong this time around.

21st Century Breakdown is replete with milquetoast “protest” music that rails against the vaguest sketches of the corrupt and immoral in modern society but doesn’t have the stones to actually construct a real and substantial explanation of why they’re so angry. That’s demonstrated in the early offing with first single, “Know Your Enemy.” The tune is catchy enough, a mid-tempo pop rock number that offers twice as many guitar solos as any other Green Day song ever (two!) and vague platitudes of standing up to “the vast majority” and “the demons of the soul.” There’s a thick sense of irony in the too-often repeated refrain of “Do you know your enemy?” — the band themselves never really seems to establish who their message is aimed at. At least with American Idiot the listener was able to infer Bush/Bush II were the targets. With the latter’s administration now banished to the fringes of the U.S. political system it seems like what little fury Green Day can muster is either a day late or clumsily misdirected at the major structured religions. If your goal is to create a story-based concept album centering around young adults and how the church can corrupt and destroy them, you’re kind of venturing off on a fool’s errand; we’ve already got Separation Sunday and topping that is going to be damn near impossible.

So forget the half-baked conceits of modern days and let’s harken back to better ones when three punk rock geeks from the 90’s punk mecca of Berkley were satisfied with just being Green Day and not with creating the biggest brand in modern music.

I remember in 1992/3 hearing my sister listening to Kerplunk!, their second LP, and being intrigued by it. I snuck into her room to tape the CD onto a cassette and I listened to it constantly. Reading, playing video games, shooting hoops in the driveway; Stephen King’s Richard Bachmann novels and The Legend of Zelda: A Link To The Past still conjure faint whispers of “No One Knows” and “Christie Road.” That was this band’s real accomplishment, as far as I’m concerned.

But I’m an equal opportunity fan of their older material. Their second through fourth albums were more or less flawless (the sixth too). There are gems throughout the band’s history that are worth a second look, especially now that their more bloviating tendencies are so starkly on display.

 

 Green Day - Going To Pasalacqua [3:31m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Green Day - One For The Razorbacks [2:30m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Green Day - Westbound Sign [2:13m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Green Day - Walking Alone [2:45m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Green Day - Waiting [3:14m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Green Day - JAR (Jason Andrew Relva) [2:52m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

No disrespect: they’re still one of my all-time favourite bands of all-time, thanks especially to the impact their music had on my formative youth. But seriously you guys, the Foxboro Hot Tubs album? So much better than this.

Pat entries 21st Century Breakdown, American Idiot, Green Day, Kerplunk, pop, pop rock, rock

Avast, poor Lucksmiths; we hardly knew ye. My favourite Australian band of ever is breaking up. Read more about the end of a wonderful era right here and learn more about the finest band that nobody ever cared about over here.

It’s a sad day.

 

 the Lucksmiths - Successlessness [2:43m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Pat entries Australia, break-ups, guitar pop, pop, the Lucksmiths

Sad and surprising news this week as one of Canada’s best bands is seeing one of its founding members pack it in. Steven Page, one of the singers and guitarists from the Barenaked Ladies, left the band on Wednesday, changing one of the country’s finest bands forever.

I’m no stranger to being mocked for my love of all things Barenaked Ladies. Unlike a lot of my fellow countrymen, I’ve stuck with the band album after album since they hit it big with their first release of youthfully energetic and catchy (some would say kitschy) songs. It’s sort of funny to talk to people who are only familiar with songs like “Grade 9” and that sort-of rap song that was a hit single a lot of years ago because their collected body of work is a lot more varied than some of the goofier songs might suggest.

There’s an underlying tone of malaise or darkness in a lot of their tracks that contradict their bright and playful melodies, and that streak comes courtesy of now-former member Steven Page. He was the one behind one of their biggest hits, “the Old Apartment,” which was something of a tortured lament of lost love. But there are numerous other examples of very serious topics addressed in popular song.

He’s had a roller coaster ride in his personal life in the last year or two, not only divorcing from his long-time wife but also getting busted in his new home in New York for cocaine possession. While the group says that isn’t the sole reason for this week’s break-up, it undoubtedly played a big part. The band will continue on without him, but I’m not sure how that’s going to go; the duality between Page and Ed Robertson is the heart of the group’s writing and I just don’t know if things will be the same. One way or another, they’ll be recording in a couple of months time so we can expect to see the results before the year’s end.

So in memory of better days, here are some of my favourite Barenaked Ladies tracks penned by Steven Page.

 

 Barenaked Ladies - Straw Hat and Old Dirty Hank [3:24m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Barenaked Ladies - the Wrong Man Was Convicted [5:06m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Barenaked Ladies - War On Drugs [5:33m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 Barenaked Ladies - You Will Be Waiting [3:45m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

This appears to be where you buy BNL music, but this might work too.

Pat entries Barenaked Ladies, Canadian content, pop, Steven Page