Monday, April 14, 2014

Gord Downie, the Sadies and the Conquering Sun

Gord Downie, the Sadies and the Conquering Sun – s/t (Arts and Crafts)

Who is this mysterious Conquering Sun? What role did he/she/it have in this historic collaboration between one of the most electrifying frontmen in Canadian history and one of the greatest, hardest-working bands in Canada today? Whomever or whatever the Conquering Sun may be, it appears to have evaporated almost any sense of magic from this meeting of minds.

When the Tragically Hip singer first fronted the Sadies, it was for a CBC session—the likes of which are unlikely to ever happen again, thanks to recent cuts—where, among other things, they covered Iggy and the Stooges’ proto-punk classic “Search and Destroy.” It was a rejuvenating performance for a man whose main band only offers occasional bouts of inspiration these days, and whose solo project is purposely loose and amorphous—more often than not, wonderfully so. Fronting the Sadies for a full-length album gives Downie the opportunity to front an entirely different kind of rock band, and to fully explore the country textures that inform some of his best ballads. It’s an opportunity lost.

The best thing about the Sadies is their malleability, their ability to adapt to whomever they’re backing up; they’re as well-known for their work with Greg Keelor, Neil Young, Neko Case and Jon Spencer as they are for their own records. People want to tap into the Sadies’ energy because they obviously have something special. Too often here, they sound like a poor man’s Tragically Hip, playing different guitars—which is not a way I ever imagined I would describe the Sadies.

Three tracks on this 10-song album almost save the day. Picking up on the Stooges vibe, “It Didn’t Start to Break My Heart Until This Afternoon” is a tense and dense psychedelic punk jam; it has an energy and experimentation not heard anywhere else on the record. Conversely, “Budget Shoes” could be a classic Sadies song recast with suitably absurdist imagery from Downie; “Devil Enough” wouldn’t be out of place as a down-tempo track on a Tragically Hip album, only here it benefits from Travis Good’s mandolin and drummer Mike Belitsky’s ability to shift moods and tempos on a dime. Cling to those three tracks, fans; nothing else offered here comes close.

Downie told the Ottawa Citizen recently, “We didn’t have a ton of ideas and pretty much every idea we had we used.” On the album, he sings: “There’s no need for drama / this is one good fast job. Forget the promise, here’s what I got / you could do it in your pyjamas / this is one good fast job.” All true, with a qualifier on the word “good.” I’m not sure why a project that took four years to complete sounds so rushed and unfulfilling.

Download: “It Didn’t Start to Break My Heart Until This Afternoon,” “Budget Shoes,” “Devil Enough”

Friday, April 04, 2014

Timber Timbre - Hot Dreams

Timber Timbre – Hot Dreams 
(Arts and Crafts)

Timber Timbre frontman Taylor Kirk checked into Heartbreak Hotel, and he never left. The more he discovered how haunted it really is, the more he liked it. On this, his fifth album, he still drenches his voice in rockabilly reverb and peers into every dark corner he can find, using blues, ’50s lounge crooner music, ’60s spaghetti Western soundtracks (you can almost hear the clip-clop of trotting horses on the opening track, “Beat the Drum Slowly)) and sheets of spooky-ass noise of indecipherable origin. Organs wheeze, pianos grown, lecherous saxophones beckon, string sections weep and sing. All the while, as always, one can’t help but picture Harry Dean Stanton imbuing Roy Orbison songs with eternal dread in David Lynch’s Blue Velvet—especially when Kirk calls in female backing singers to sing what Kelly Hogan calls “Roddenberries” (vocals that sound like the Star Trek theme song) over a bolero beat. Doom is always either imminent or has already wreaked its havoc, leaving desolate survivors to wade through the wreckage.

Sound like a good time? No, of course not. But everyone loves a good creep: just ask the creators of The Walking Dead, or Breaking Bad; the latter has used Timber Timbre’s music in the past. Kirk runs the risk of camp, which he fell into far too often on his last album, where the lyrics tried too hard to create the sense of dread that the music did naturally. He’s more careful this time out, although there’s the occasional clunker—like when he opens a song by declaring, “I want to dance with a black woman.”

If Kirk’s songwriting is neither here nor there (there’s an odd melodic nod to “Rivers of Babylon” on the track “Grand Canyon”), he and his band continue to improve as arrangers: there’s a strong influence of dub reggae, psychedelia and RZA-style hip-hop production that leaves plenty of space for ghostly textures, and sets them far apart from other rootsy retro acts who think reverb and a Farfisa organ are convenient crutches to create mood. Guest performer (for the third album in a row now) Colin Stetson on saxophone is also a welcome presence.

Timber Timbre has a shtick, and Taylor Kirk is sticking to it. It’s not only working for him, but he keeps getting better at it.

Download: “Curtains,” “Resurrection Drive Part II,” “The New Tomorrow”

Monday, March 24, 2014

March 2014 reviews

I’ve had a grumpy month. It’s March. Earlier I was blown away by Calgary upstarts 36?, and Kevin Drew’s second solo album is one of the strongest records he’s ever made. But other than being unable to resist the charm of Pharrell Williams—especially in a month devoid of anything resembling warmth, either emotionally or meteorologically—this month had some slim pickings.

Highly recommended: Pharrell Williams
Worth your while: Many people will tell you that I’m dead wrong about The War on Drugs.

These reviews appeared in the Waterloo Record and Guelph Mercury.

Barzin - To Live Alone in That Long Hot Summer (Monotreme)

Barzin got his start as a singer-songwriter when he was living in Guelph, back in the late ‘90s and early 2000s, when his voice never rose above a whisper, when his drummer only ever played with brushes, when the other musicians accompanying him rarely played more than one note per bar. Not much has changed, except that his recordings are remarkably more confident and accomplished—especially this one, his first in five years. (Barzin’s release schedule is even slower than his tempos.)

Sympatico Toronto pals Daniela Gesundheit (Snowblink) and Tamara Lindeman (The Weather Station) lend a hand on backing vocals, as does Barzin’s most faithful champion, Tony Dekker of Great Lake Swimmers. After more than a decade working with the exact same template, one that invokes candlelight, red wine and some tattered books of poetry, Barzin’s writing has shed the clich├ęs and repetition of his earlier material, and he’s found some extremely sympathetic players to add accordion, cello and clarinet, as well as a subtle but extremely effective drummer.

He couldn’t have titled the album more perfectly: it’s the sound of melancholy and ache when the weather is suited for nothing more than extreme sloth. The music itself, however, is anything but lazy. (March 20)

Download: “All the While,” “In the Dark You Can Love This Place,” “Lazy Summer”

Johnny Cash – Out Among the Stars (Sony)

In the years preceding and immediately following his death in 2002, Johnny Cash seemed to have a “new” record out every couple of months: an actual album here, a reissue there, maybe a box set or two, and then the inevitable scraping of the bottom of the barrel: endless outtakes packaged as new material. So what fresh hell is this?

Out Among the Stars is a previously unreleased album, but it doesn’t come from a mythologized part of Cash’s career: this is not from his Tennessee Two days, nor from his Folsom Prison comeback period, nor from his Rick Rubin-assisted final victory lap. This was made during his lowest commercial slump: the early ’80s, when he considered himself “invisible” in his label’s eyes; they dropped him after rejecting some of the material that appears here.

Cash’s brand of country may have not been commercial in the early ’80s (despite the fact that Bruce Springsteen was going through a big Johnny Cash phase, first with Nebraska and then with the top-10 single “I’m On Fire”), but it holds up well. Cash was never one to chase trends, so you won’t find him falling prey to any of the sonic traps that shackled so many of his contemporaries. Out Among the Stars only features two Cash originals, but the rest of the track list is written by then-current songwriters, and devoid of well-known songs, with the sole exception of a cover of Hank Snow’s “I’m Movin’ On,” as a duet with Waylon Jennings.

Considering the glut of Johnny Cash albums on the market, you could do far worse than stumbling across this one. Then again: considering the glut of Johnny Cash albums on the market, one can’t help but wonder if anyone but the most diehard completest will consider this essential. (March 27)

Download: “Out Among the Stars,” “Baby Ride Easy” (with June Carter Cash), “If I Told You Who It Was”

The Heavyweights Brass Band – Brasstronomical (Lulaworld)

This Toronto ensemble wins this year’s Most Improved Award, hands down. Simply being a New Orleans-style brass band doing covers of Lady Gaga and Justin Bieber songs is a shtick that only goes so far, so the arrangements had better be whip tight, and the delivery full of verve and spark. On the debut, that wasn’t the case. Here, it most definitely is. Covering the Rush instrumental “YYZ” is not a task to be taken on lightly; completely reinventing it and owning it as your own is a whole other kettle of fish. Sousaphone player Rob Teehan tackles Geddy’s Lee’s insanely bass line with aplomb, while saxophonist Paul Metcalfe somehow captures every minute detail of Alex Lifeson’s guitar. Recasting rock songs is not their only forte here: they also take on a sensual Erykah Badu ballad, a song by Toronto jazz legend Jane Bunnett, and they invite Jamaica-to-Toronto R&B master Jay Douglas to sing one of their originals. It’s those originals that set Heavyweights apart these days: Metcalfe and trumpet player Jonathan Challoner each deliver punchy tunes that showcase the best this band is capable of. Coming soon to a summer jazz festival near you. (March 6)

Download: “YYZ,” “Booze Hounds” (featuring Jay Douglas), “Telephone”

Kalle Mattson - Someday, The Moon Will Be Gold (Parliament of Trees)

The Weakerthans, one of Canada’s most beloved bands, only put an album once in a blue moon; it’s now been seven years since Reunion Tour. Mattson, an Ottawa-via-Sault-Ste.-Marie singer-songwriter, bears a remarkable vocal resemblance to the Weakerthans’ John K. Samson, and his backing band (which includes Cuff the Duke’s Paul Lowman on most tracks here) likewise applies pop-punk drive to nerdy, wordy folk songs. And, like the Weakerthans, Mattson pulls it off far better than you would ever expect (and, although you wouldn’t guess it from this review, he does so without constantly inviting comparisons over the course of the album). He also does it with trumpeter JF Beauchamp adding majesty and melodic thrust over the raging guitars. Producer Gavin Gardiner (The Wooden Sky) knows when to let the songs breathe, when to let the band rock out, and when a flurry of guitar feedback serves and excellent purpose. Drummer Kyle Woods also deserves a nod for his sympathetic performance. This is Mattson’ third full-length album; it’s clearly the one where he comes into his own. (March 6)

Download: “Hurt People Hurt People,” “A Love Song to the City,” “Darkness”

The Notwist - Close to the Glass (Sub Pop)

One of my favourite music writers once complained that listening to Radiohead was a joyless exercise akin to being “on the Internet reading debates about the Internet”—the implication being that the music was too impressed with itself and its importance, and devoid of actual ambition or emotional resonance. Germany’s The Notwist have garnered their share of Radiohead comparisons ever since their 2002 album Neon Golden became a sleeper cult hit, with its mix of balladry, hints of blues riffs and plenty of bleeps and blurps. Close to the Glass is only their second album since then. It would unlikely impress anyone who shared the above opinion of Radiohead. 

The stereotype of German music is that it’s emotionally detached and deadpan; The Notwist live up to that reputation, and then some. When the band is on hiatus, its members have a variety of experimental side projects. When they get back together here, they sound bored out of their minds, like they’re punching the clock with some pop songs that will fund their true labours of love. There’s something wrong when the most raucous song is about a seven-hour drive: It’s called, you guessed it, “7-Hour Drive.” The weirder they get, the better: the title track sounds like a sexless Teutonic take on Jamaican dancehall, while “Lineri” is an entrancing instrumental that benefits greatly from not having Markus Acher’s mumbling over it. (March 13)

Download: “Kong,” “Close to the Glass,” “Lineri”

Angel Olsen – Burn Your Fire for No Witness (Jagjaguwar)

Why would you burn your fire for no witness? Are you trying to hide something? Are you a recluse? Is there a deep loneliness inside of you that recoils from human contact?

The latter would seem to apply to this Asheville, N.C., singer-songwriter, whose voice alters between defeated and yearning. On the tracks where she provides the sole accompaniment, she sounds almost frightened, spooked, like Julie Doiron or Cat Power in a cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains. For at least half the record, however, she employs a Chicago garage-rock duo, Lionlimb, who give her an emotional lift and colour in the corner of her songs with surprising subtlety. Producer John Congleton, who also helmed the all-out sonic attack of St. Vincent’s new album, knows exactly when to leave Olsen alone, and never tries to dress up her arrangements. Yet even when she shows signs of extroversion, Olsen still casts a lonely figure that still sounds like a 27-year-old who’s been beat down by too many crappy retail gigs and dubious relationships. How much you enjoy this record may well depend entirely on how far away you are from your own 27-year-old’s existence. (March 6)

Download: “Forgiven/Forgotten,” “Lights Out,” “White Fire”

The War on Drugs – Lost in the Dream (Secretly Canadian)

Much like the real-life war on drugs, this War on Drugs—a Philadelphia band led by Adam Granduciel—is hopelessly lost. They packed up their van, drove it to the middle of a former industrial town in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania on a cloudy summer day, set up shop and started daydreaming while playing their instruments. That’s what it sounds like, anyway: aimless, carefree, pleasant yet melancholic and in a constant state of anticipation: surely, something is about to happen. It has to. Because nothing’s been happening now for a long, long time. Sometimes that can be its own pleasure. Others, it’s just plain tedious or, worse, imperceptible. Invisible.

For some mystifying reason, people who should know better—i.e. everybody who’s ever written about this band—compare The War on Drugs to Bruce Springsteen. Apparently the mere presence of a saxophone in a rock band gives people strange ideas. Tom Petty also pops up quite a bit. But comparisons to these greats only make sense if you imagine those artists showing up in the studio baked out of their minds, with no songs in mind, telling their ace bands to drive the same groove deep into the night—and hey, while you’re there, boys, take some time to gaze at the stars.

Granduciel is a passionate frontman, even when he’s doing a strange Bob Dylan impersonation, and he’s a guitar noodler par excellence—if you’re into noodling. This is his band; other members have come and gone. No wonder: they could all be easily replaced by machines, as the arrangements consist largely of metronomic beats devoid of dynamics.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. If you’re looking for music to ignore—like High Fidelity’s Rob Gordon does in the novel and film that most War on Drugs fans know all too well—then this is your band. Lost in the Dream is—well, dreamy. And lost, in the Chet Baker sense of “Let’s Get Lost.” Maybe it’s an album that encapsulates hollowed-out, Rust Belt America, devoid of hope and lulled into an opiate state by the distraction-industrial complex—a timely soundtrack to accompany George Packer’s book The Unwinding. Or maybe it’s just an album where not much happens at all. (March 27)

Download: “An Ocean in the Waves,” “In Reverse,” “Red Eyes”

Pharrell Williams – G I R L (Sony)

Pharrell is a happy guy. You probably knew that already, because of his 2013 smash single, “Happy,” from the Despicable Me 2 soundtrack. He performed it at the Oscars last week, even getting Meryl Streep up to dance. He looked happy. He sounds happy. He should be. And you will be, too, after you hear the most joyous pop album in ages.

As a producer, Pharrell has shaped the sound of pop and hip-hop over the last 15 years, having been responsible, behind the scenes, for dozens of hits. G I R L is sunny-day funk par excellence, making Justin Timberlake’s recent records sound bloated and excessive, imagining what Michael Jackson would sound like if he fronted a tight five-piece band rather than an orchestra of rock and R&B players. 

Pharrell puts the vocals and the beats first, and fills in every other element sparingly, less they distract from the groove and melodies. Even on “Gust of Wind,” with guest robot vocals from Daft Punk and featuring a string arrangement by bombastic soundtrack composer Hans Zimmer, can barely be accused of bloat. 

"Happy" is undeniably a catchy song, but the real winner here is "Hunter," impossibly funky and deliciously libidinous, where the riff is shared by a synth clavinet and a slap bass (with another, deeper bass adding maximum effect with a minimum number of notes). Like “Get Lucky,” the chord progression never changes, but it doesn’t have to: the groove is killer, and Pharrell is full of casual swagger and seemingly improvised, ridiculous lyrics (“Duck Dynasty is cool and all / but they got nothing on a female’s call”).

Being who he is, Pharrell could easily have stuffed his album with A-list guests. He doesn’t have to: Justin Timberlake and Alicia Keys show up, but they’re barely noticeable. If he’s out to teach us anything here, it’s that simplicity is the key to happiness. (March 6)

Download: “Happy,” “Hunter,” “Come Get It Bae”

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Kevin Drew, Darlings and Andy Kim

My story about the odd couple friendship between Broken Social Scene’s Kevin Drew and "Sugar Sugar" legend Andy Kim—whose new record, due out later this year, was co-written and produced by Drew—is online at Maclean’s here.

It’s a necessarily condensed version of the 2½-hour interview I had with them both at Drew’s Toronto apartment, which was one of my favourite interviews of recent years. I recommend you read the expanded Q&A here.

My review for the Waterloo Record:

Kevin Drew – Darlings (Arts and Crafts)

Kevin Drew was due for an implosion. The Broken Social Scene bandleader started out making amorphous, ambient records before his band suddenly evolved into a rock’n’roll orchestra with a half-dozen guitars and just as many lead singers. Even his 2007 solo album, Spirit If, featured an even bigger cast of characters than found on a BSS album (including Tom Cochrane and Dinosaur Jr.’s J Mascis).

Following a BSS hiatus and a midlife crisis, Drew returns with Darlings, an album that features just five musicians (and one guest vocal from Feist). While it still has the rich synthesizers and reverbed vocals Drew always employs, it also features 12 songs he could ostensibly perform by himself, with no small army required to back him up. The result is the most melodic and direct Drew has ever been, and easily his best record next to Broken Social Scene’s 2002 classic You Forgot It In People.

Yet Drew can still be he own worst enemy: the two worst songs on this otherwise excellent album are the ones he chose as singles to preview the album, "Good Sex" and "Mexican Aftershow Party." Musically, they’re congruous with the rest of Darlings, but lyrically they’re repetitious and mundane—and, in the case of "Mexican Aftershow Party," could only possibly make sense to Drew or members of his band.

As befits a humbled man trying to regain his footing, Drew doesn’t reach for grandiose musical moments. Much of Darlings is intimate, mid-tempo and lovely; even at its most raucous, it’s still warm and inviting—and yet still finds room for sonic experimentation; it’s not a case so much of Drew watering down his approach as it is distilling it at a lower volume. The whole record is basically one big hug—which, if you’ve ever met Drew or seen him interviewed, should not be a big surprise.

Download: “You Gotta Feel It,” “You In Your Were,” “And That’s All I Know”