Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings - Counting Crows

Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings

Counting Crows
Geffen Records.

SCQ Rating: 89%
Wishlist Counterpoint: 79%

Objectively approaching a new album by the Counting Crows is hazardous, if not downright impossible, for me so let’s first do some editorial spring-cleaning. If you were one of the folk-rock purists who balked at the electric bitterness of Recovering the Satellites, sit this one out. If you considered the live, double-album Across A Wire a foolhardy move for a band with only two albums under their belt at the time, you weren’t listening in. If you, like most casual fans who remain hovering over and quoting August and Everything After, think Hard Candy was rubbish, feel free to stop reading. Maybe you’re one of those fans who’ve never heard of Hard Candy. Regardless, I’ve included this disclaimer because as someone who has been deeply affected by each of the four Counting Crows albums and had the good fortune to see them three times in concert, I know there is an army strong of faithful Crows-fans who understand this band on a far deeper level than their radio hits would suggest. This review is for those fans.

As if my personal relationship with this band wasn’t enough of a deterrent in neutrally assessing the merits of their new album, this is also their first set of new material in six years. Since I was barely twenty years old at the time of their last album’s release, Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings is, as far as I’m concerned, my first grown-up experience with the Crows. Luckily, no matter how much a half decade can change, it’s reassuring to hear that the band are as musically masterful as ever and that ringleader Adam Duritz remains the eternal mess of a man we’ve come to adore. Equal parts reminiscent of the aforementioned albums, Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings has the restless growl of Recovering the Satellites, the polished harmonies of Hard Candy, plus the tranquil acoustics and conversational Duritz-isms of Across A Wire’s first disc.

Split by a sonic aesthetic (Saturday Nights being the aggressively electric, Sunday Mornings being the regretfully acoustic) and two producers (Gil Norton working the former, Brian Deck the latter), this album provides a welcome backlash to the Top 40 trap that the Crows were dangling above in recent years. It’s a bipolar concept that they’ve executed well although, in doing so, they’ve gift-wrapped a listening experience that finds each half swinging at the other, like two moods fighting for dominance.

One thing’s for sure: that Joni Mitchell cover couldn’t be further from memory when ‘1492’ comes thundering in to open Saturday Nights, the first mini-record that the band was recording before Duritz tired of the studio and underwent a lengthy period of personal turmoil. Although Saturday…’s mood is certainly self-destructive, Duritz’s vocal performances never hint at any imminent fatigue and as a whole, the Crows put all seven talents to hard work on Saturday Nights. ‘Los Angeles’ cuts deep like a lumbering blues song that, despite its attempts, cannot help but become a rowdy anthem of validated vices. Written with the help of Ryan Adams (which I can’t stop myself from smiling at; really, imagine how many albums Adams likely wrote while waiting for Duritz to finish one lyric), it’s the first in a string of new Counting Crows classics. ‘Sundays’ revisits the lovely production of Hard Candy, as a swooning crew of bells and vocals climax with Duritz belting “I don’t believe in Sundays / I don’t believe in anything at all,” while ‘Insignificant’ and the epic ‘Cowboys’ are ruthlessly energetic rockers that rival anything off Recovering the Satellites. When Saturday Nights burns out, there’s little doubt that fans are engaging with some of the best Counting Crows material in well over a decade.

Wherever ‘Washington Square’ is, I’d like to believe it’s close-by to ‘Sullivan Street’ as both give a nostalgic feeling of home and where our roots lie. Composed of lilting piano and descending acoustic guitar, ‘Washington Square’ opens Sunday Mornings with a stunning reason not to glance back longingly at the album’s first side. Focusing on the intimate side of their songwriting, Adam and Co. delve into less structured ballads; the harmonica-drenched ‘On Almost Any Sunday Morning’ is but a moment in regret, while ‘On a Tuesday in Amsterdam Long Ago’ is a lengthy swan-song on lone piano. Both are beautiful in their dramatic depression, and while the latter would be torture for any Crows-hater, it’s saved by Duritz’s ever-versatile voice that only gets stronger with age. Those two tracks, combined with ‘Le Ballet D’or’, a completely unhinged folk song, give Sunday Mornings a meandering feel that is confused further by the pop songs peppered in for good measure. While none of these songs are lackluster, their close proximity (as deemed by the record concept) has marginalized their uniqueness and given Sunday Mornings a slightly homogenous air. On the plus side, this group of quieter musings make lead single ‘You Can’t Count On Me’ even bolder, and the album’s second half is saved by the occasional presence of electric guitar or drum-kit.

Considering this new album in relation to the Counting Crows of old, I’ve stumbled across a small revelation: that, although the first two Counting Crows records are easily their most successful, I am far more passionate about their recent work (‘recent’ meaning from the past decade, I suppose). From the rustic country vistas in This Desert Life to Hard Candy’s bedroom pop-songs to this, a double album of urban debauchery and blue-skied recollection; the Counting Crows are a progressive band, true to their sound but unafraid to take chances. If that’s the Counting Crows you love, Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings is about to become your favourite record.

Listen to Counting Crows here.

The Ghost That Carried Us Away - Seabear

The Ghost that Carried Us Away

Seabear
Morr Music.

SCQ Rating: 66%

If you’re looking for some new twee-electronic records to buy, go check out Morr Music; not only can you sample some of the German label’s latest releases, you can read hilarious press kits that inflate these albums with ludicrous proclamations. As the prominent label continues to enlist more varied, less electronic artists, Seabear (AKA Sindri Mar Sigfusson) has been the latest success story. And according to Morr Music, that story boasts how Seabear is what happens when Sufjan Stevens meets Sigur Ros. Mmhmm. Because I’m rather accommodating, I can hear that Sigfusson’s voice sounds a dimension shy of Sufjan’s and because I have a map, I can prove that Seabear and Sigur Ros both live in Iceland. Beyond those points, Seabear lacks the grandeur, emotion and sense of risk that creates truly original music. None of this is to imply that The Ghost That Carried Us Away is a bad record… it just isn’t deserving of comparisons to such renowned company.

Enough demythologizing for one day. What Seabear does have is a talent for writing simple folk songs that sound all-encompassing. A simple percussion loop offers a lively pulse to the few uptempo tracks – ‘Libraries’ and ‘I Sing I Swim’ – while spirited violins flutter throughout. The giant shadows behind these humble tunes are the arrangements, which carry the songs when the writing cannot. The problem with Seabear’s debut is that it’s easy for me to stop paying attention, and here’s why: Sigfusson’s vocals have no variation. He never gets excited, soulful or upset so scratch urgency, scratch drama, scratch emotion. That last one is particularly upsetting because this record deserves emotion; its lyrics and music are full of it, but Sigfusson has little to give. I’m not looking for showmanship so much as a voice that doesn’t sound bored with its muse.

It’s on a select few slow songs, like ‘Hands Remember’, where Sigfusson’s trance-inducing tone actually compels. ‘Lost Watch’ is where Seabear ropes all these familiar and warm instruments into something unique; a painfully slow guitar plucking under electronic keyboard, a soft banjo, and pitch-shifted vocals lost into the mix. The longest song on the record and possibly the best, ‘Lost Watch’ is a gorgeous slab of melancholy that, unlike much of The Ghost That Carried Us Away, feels unhinged by tight melody or percussion and could float away at any moment. Unfortunately its neighbouring songs aren’t doing any favours, as they are just as slow-paced but without the enticing atmosphere.

These arrangements actually do a great job of covering how played his melodies are; some of which are so familiar they feel publicly owned instead of lifted from one particular artist. The chords of ‘Seashell’ sound identical in time signature and progression as at least three other songs I know. Maybe that’s why the whole record feels so comfortable. Undoubtedly pretty and with several enjoyable moments, The Ghost That Carried Us Away remains a slight disappointment. Despite the earthy instrumentation and folky vibes, Seabear manages to sound sterile by never stepping outside of a safe melody’s comfort zone. An artist worth keeping tabs on… just don’t believe the hype.

Heretic Pride - The Mountain Goats

Heretic Pride

The Mountain Goats
4AD Records.

SCQ Rating: 68%

To be a Mountain Goats fan, you must be a John Darnielle fan. The sole artist of both lyrics and vocals, Darnielle is the heart of every Mountain Goats song, delivering lyrics no one else can with that signature voice. ‘Sax Rohmer #1’ sets a buoyant mood early, as he announces “I’m coming home to you/ if it’s the last thing that I do.” It’s a powerful opener that’s bested quickly by the title track, which featuring John Vanderslice on synths, is as invigorating as the Mountain Goats get. On the other hand, ‘So Desperate’ is the thick silence of a dead engine with the windows up, trying to find words for a girl but failing – not out of fear but anticipation. This expectation of fortune in life and love is what drives Heretic Pride, that urgency to hold onto precious moments before they pass.

When a band member becomes the figurehead of their band like Darnielle has, he largely becomes responsible for what songs work and what doesn’t. As divisive as it is nasally, Darnielle’s voice undoubtedly suits the Mountain Goats’ more folk-infused material (2006’s Get Lonely was pitch-perfect for this very reason) better than their occasional electric numbers, where he strains to match their volume. And while he holds his own in the raucous ‘Lovecraft in Brooklyn’, it spotlights that one evident obstacle for new Mountain Goats listeners to hurdle. Where his voice may uninspire some, Darnielle’s bandleader position is justified is his lyrical fortitude, as each song on Heretic Pride presents the same quality songwriting as previous efforts that no other band could duplicate.

What makes the Mountain Goats such a unique band is that Darnielle’s talents don’t render his fellow musicians to backing-band status. Since the story-arch of each song is so typically unique, the band employs small sonic flavours to compliment the lyrical tone; like ‘Tianchi Lake’, a soft acoustic meditation that is emboldened by reflective tinkering piano. In other instances, the band supplies gorgeous accompaniment such as the cinematic ‘San Bernardino’, where a string arrangement carries a first-person account of pulling into a motel to deliver their child in a bathtub; each emotion from fear to joy is fluttering to Darnielle’s tale, recorded with the crystal clarity we’ve come to expect from 4AD.

Despite a variety of arrangements, Heretic Pride can’t shake off its stagnant low points; both the reggae-stalemate ‘Sept 15 1983’ and the forgettable easy listening of ‘New Zion’ welcome the skip button. In an album of mid-tempo full-band folk songs, these dull passages drag our attention-span to the edge of boredom, but luckily, the aforementioned highlights balance these weaker songs enough to minimize damage to the album at large. ‘Michael Myers Resplendent’ serves Heretic Pride best, showcasing all the drama that would be clunky in the hands of any other lyricist or band. Here, it’s an eloquent close to a frequently beautiful record; the kind that compliments the Mountain Goats catalogue without becoming the envy of it.

American Gothic EP - The Smashing Pumpkins

American Gothic EP

The Smashing Pumpkins
Reprise Records.

SCQ Rating: 74%

Venues selling out in minutes, ‘Tarantula’ on alt-rock rotation every half hour, the shroud of mystery over whether James and Darcy would show up, and that hideous Statue of Liberty drowning on posters all over city walkways; yes, the summer of 2007 will stand in the Fanboy Book of 90s Idols as the terrifically-hyped return of the Smashing Pumpkins. Yet despite such ardent Zeitgeist profiteering, the palpable storm of media attention backfired: the record was underwhelming by Pumpkin standards and by the end of August, a summers-worth of expectation had thinned embarrassingly. So less than a year later, it seems that the infamously narcissistic Billy Corgan may be eating some humble pie with the fresh and subdued American Gothic EP.

Contrary to the smothering promotional efforts of Zeitgeist, I discovered this new release carelessly filed in the Elliott Smith section. Likewise, I’ve found few reviews or reference-points to this EP online (perhaps this is because American Gothic is unavailable to the USA in physical format). Whatever the reason is for this under-the-rug release method, it’s as wisely unassuming as the material itself; American Gothic is, despite its 17 minute running length, a sprawling open-strum of backyard guitar odes that answer the call of many fans who berated Zeitgeist for lacking a sensitive side. From the opening acoustic tumble of ‘The Rose Parade’, we’re reunited with a strain of Billy Corgan songwriting that hasn’t been heard since Zwan’s Mary Star of the Sea, or in the SP catalogue, Adore; a melancholic, folk that chastises the needless effects that Corgan is known to submerge songs in. When he asks “Can’t you see me at all?”, it’s sung honestly, without the whiny bellyache that sunk much of a certain solo album. ‘Again, Again, Again’ follows, proudly-paced by Chamberlain’s unmistakable drum-work, and builds into a restrained but addictive chorus that manages to evoke a passion and romanticism out of Billy that has been long absent.

When American Gothic debuted on I-Tunes in January, Corgan spoke lovingly of these song’s origins (most of which written before or during Zeitgeist) and how he opted to record them during a tour-break in the fall of 2007. His decision, at first, sounds misguided when you consider how badly their last album could’ve used these songs to loosen that Sabbath noose and offer a greater range of songcraft. The more I listen to American Gothic, however, the more I understand Corgan’s choice to keep each release focused; difference is, where Zeitgeist’s focal point proved its undoing, the lack of variety here works (in fact, the more aggressive ‘Pox’ is the least affecting here).

If the purposefully garish arena-rock of the last Pumpkins album felt too cumbersome, I urge all waning fans to seek out its opposite; a curving song-cycle of romantic notions that are as rustic and bare as the railroad-stitched plains that adorn the EP’s sleeves. Although these songs pale in comparison to the best of the Pumpkins’ softer material (Mellon Collie...’s second half, the Tonight, Tonight EP), American Gothic is the best SP material I’ve heard since the 90s and a modest redemption for those of us who were ready to walk away.

Crystal Castles - Crystal Castles

Crystal Castles

Crystal Castles
Last Gang Records.

SCQ Rating: 88%

“Haven’t heard them but I’ve heard of them,” is probably the most apt phrase for the internet-era music industry. Being one of those nerds who constantly searches music zines for new records and catches the names of countless bands I’ve never heard, it’s also a phrase I find myself repeating endlessly. Little did I know that that very phrase would lead me to my biggest music-regret of 2007: missing a Crystal Castles show… where admission was $5. Although I missed the concert, I’m still grateful because that evening was the first time I decided to actually listen to this band that was making so many indie-headlines and remixing every indie-band – all without a record deal, label, or LP to speak of. Admittedly, I went download crazy, grabbing as much of the Untrust Us EP and Alice Practice EP (sold exclusively and quickly at their shows) as I could find. So nearly nine months later, I calmly consider picking up their official debut but wonder if my intimate knowledge of half the record might hinder any long-lasting enjoyment of hearing it again. By the time opener ‘Untrust Us’ comes to an end, I’m glad I caved.

With the odd exception, Crystal Castles is sequenced chronologically, meaning that the first six songs are nothing new to most CC fans. Despite some of these tracks being over two years old, they’ve each been polished, subtly extended or added to, providing a fresh edge to classics like ‘Crimewave’ and ‘Alice Practice’. The early download ‘1983’ is now ‘1991’, virtually unchanged, while ‘Xxzxcuzx Me’ through time or proper recording techniques now sounds awesome, instead of slightly annoying. Where the sequencing does betray the band’s historical order is appropriate, as Crystal Castles balances the Alice Glass vocals well with Ethan Kath’s instrumental work.

I heave another sigh of relief as newer material is peppered into the sequencing, namely because Crystal Castles prove capable of broadening their range without losing the sound that labeled them “8-bit Terrorists”. As much as I love the early shock’n’awe techniques that made ‘Air War’ and ‘Love and Caring’ so groundbreaking, a full sixteen track album of it would’ve stolen those songs’ ammunition and rendered the band a one-trick act. ‘Good Time’ features much of the same Atari-fueled, vocal splices but is laid-back, content to be clear-headed, while ‘Vanished’ improves on the no-wave pulse of ‘Crimewave’ by incorporating one of Kath’s throbbing beats to Van-She’s ‘Sex City’. It’s a stroke of genius, highlighting the CC’s dancefloor sex appeal without requiring the presence of Glass. Most interesting are the final couplet, ‘Black Panther’ and ‘Tell Me What to Swallow’, which presents the band’s most recent work and flexible songcraft. The former is unique in its vocal delivery, as Glass could be screaming her lyrics underwater, as well as its near-trance aspirations, but suffers from an over-done keyboard melody. What ‘Black Panther’ lacks in originality is redeemed with a last song that stands apart from everything Crystal Castles have done before now: a dreamy slow-core track that finds Kath playing guitar and Glass cooing into the mic. It’s a first for both members and an ideal end for a young band with a world of possibilities ahead of them.

Listening to this first full-document of the Crystal Castles experience, I somehow feel ready to forgive myself for that failed opportunity to catch them in all their live, unruly insanity. As great as it might’ve been, I’m happy to have experienced the band alone in my room, as much of their material now feels very personal (many of their songs feel like going out in Toronto at night). With the long-awaited release of this album now giving me a physical CD to recollect the songs I’ve loved since last summer and new ones I’m only beginning to obsess over, the secret’s out. With nearly a quarter of 2008 wrapped up, Crystal Castles is an early contender for album of the year.

Listen to Crystal Castles here.

Dandelion Gum - Black Moth Super Rainbow

Dandelion Gum

Black Moth Super Rainbow
Graveface Records.

SCQ Rating: 79%

I read somewhere that Black Moth Super Rainbow, a group of starry-eyed bohemians who live in the wooded seclusion of rural Pennsylvania, sound like the most astronomically drugged up version of Air. Such cheap comparisons are regular among lazy music critics but it’s so commonly used because it’s an easy way to caricature an artist’s sound, and in this case they’re not far off. However, if I had to pick an artist for comparison, I’d offer Dan Snaith of Caribou, whose love of 60s psychedelic-rock can be avidly seen in Dandelion Gum; the multi-coloured monster I’m currently listening to on repeat. At seventeen tracks clocking in at under fifty minutes, Black Moth Super Rainbow torpedo into tripped-out electronic passages, relaxed tie-dye rockers, and vocals sung exclusively with a vocoder – who can blame critics for seeking an easy way out?

Of course, it would be easy to cut and run if the record didn’t show such promise. Take ‘Jump Into My Mouth and Breathe The Stardust’, the second track from Dandelion Gum, which kicks into a Cat Power-esque guitar riff circa 2003 – moody but energized with tight drums – and add the otherworldly elements of vocodered singing and alien synths. Like much of this record, it’s startlingly summery, from the open-field relaxing vibes of ‘Sun Lips’ to a quietly regretful humidity of ‘Neon Syrup for the Cemetery Sisters’; these songs are lyrically and musically passionate about sunshine, long grass, and, well, candy.

This wide-eyed innocence remains palpable for the same reason their overuse of the vocoder doesn’t get irritating; Dandelion Gum’s arrangements were designed for lo-fi pacifism, while providing ample variety in brief instrumentals to keep things inventive. The highway cruise of ‘Rollerdisco’ is slick beats and buried vocals; a smooth detour from the ragged majority of Dandelion Gum, while ‘Spinning Cotton Candy in a Shake Made of Shingles’ is positively insular, with hazy guitar and tape manipulation sounding strangely like Boards of Canada. All the same, nothing about this band is minimal, and because they feed off their excesses, some fuzzy guitar explosions and warped keyboard will occasionally trigger a sense of déjà vu.

At seventeen songs and packed with ideas, Dandelion Gum isn’t so much bloated as it is a treasure trove of what the band has to offer: extroverted psych-rock, electronic noise, and, most impressively, emotionally-driven softer pieces like the sentimental closer ‘Untitled Roadside Demo’. Despite my advice that you treat this collection like a compilation upon initial listening, BMSR have succeeded in tying these often-polarizing moments into a unified album.

Listen to Black Moth Super Rainbow here.

Thank God It's Tuesday

Thank God It's Tuesday is your timetable for upcoming releases that should interest you. This post will be added to as new release dates become available and is clickable from SCQ's Navigator on the right margin of your screen.


A short calendar of things worth looking forward to in 2010/11:


January 24


The Stars Are Indifferent to Astronomy - Nada Surf
Provincial - John K. Samson


January 31


Old Ideas - Leonard Cohen


February 7


Le Voyage Dans La Lune - Air
Six Cups of Rebel - Lindstrom


February 14


Plumb - Field Music
Underrated Silence - Ulrich Schnauss & Mark Peters


February 28


The Slideshow Effect - Memoryhouse
TBA - Orcas


March 6


Break It Yourself - Andrew Bird
Dispossession - Mike Wexler 
Always - Xiu Xiu


March 20


Port of Morrow - The Shins


March 27


Busting Visions - Zeus


April 3


It's Cool, I Love You - Bear In Heaven
New Wild Everywhere - Great Lake Swimmers
Spooky Action At a Distance - Lotus Plaza
Zammuto - Zammuto


April 10


Mr. Impossible - Black Dice
Orcas - Orcas
Lost In the Humming Air - Various (Tribute to Harold Budd)


April 17


Cynic's New Year - Horse Feathers


April 24


Blunderbuss - Jack White


May 1


Aufheben - Brian Jonestown Massacre


May 7


Exercises - CFCF
MY BLOODY VALENTINE REMASTERS (+)
Death Dreams - P.S. I Love You


May 22


Clear Moon - Mount Eerie


May 29


Valtari - Sigur Ros
Among the Leaves - Sun Kil Moon


June 12


In Our Heads - Hot Chip
Synthetica - Metric
There's No Leaving Now - Tallest Man On Earth


June 18


Oceania - Smashing Pumpkins


2017


TBD - Boards of Canada

Anticipated Records Due 2012 / SCQ Dream List:

Ryan Adams - Blackhole
Aphex Twin - TBA
Bob Mould - TBA
The Wrens - Funeral

TOP 8 DRINKING ALBUMS FOR ST. PATTY'S DAY 2008

U2… check, Proclaimers… check, uh, that Spirit of the West song… check. Ahh, the tired and true staples of your average St. Patrick’s Day celebration; we get it – they’re Irish – but choosing good drinking music requires more than that clever association. You know the saying “It’s twelve noon somewhere…” as an excuse to drink at any time of day? The same casual obliviousness can apply here, as just about everyone is “a little bit Irish”. So for the sake of having a positively memorable St. Patrick’s Day, consider these possibly semi-Irish records for your weekend socializing. Lord knows we all own at least one of them.



Traditional Irish Toast:

Go mbeimid beo ag an am seo arís.

("May We All Be Alive At This Time Next Year.")

8.) Let's Stay Friends - Les Savy Fav (ST. PATTY'S 2008)

Let’s Stay Friends

Les Savy Fav
Frenchkiss Records.


SCQ Rating: 75%

Let’s Stay Friends is a record I’d love to play at a social gathering but fear it wouldn’t work out. Whether it be the intensity of band-leader Tim Harrington who screams and shouts wildly, or the band’s punk-leaning riffs, Les Savy Fav are intimidating to indie-rock fans on first listen. As I’ve stated before, I was one of these listeners who initially found this record too abrasive for my liking, only to become addicted in the weeks to follow.

After the thunderous warning-call of ‘Pots & Pans’, Let’s Stay Friends barrels into several highlights: the indie-meets-punk speed of ‘The Equestrian’, near dance-rock (they pioneered years ago) on ‘Patty Lee’, and ‘What Would Wolves Do?’, which begins with a New Order drum-beat before exploding into classic LSF territory.

The other reason I won’t be introducing friends to this album in a public setting is because the songwriting quality temporarily wanes. ‘Brace Yourself’ would fit in on a Sublime album with its druggy bassline, but after four minutes of it virtually unchanged, one makes a mental note to keep the remote handy. In other areas, ‘Slugs in the Shrubs’ rifles into noisy hysterics but literally cuts off, when two minutes in, it gets bored. Let’s Stay Friends features too many good songs to completely write off, especially for new fans like myself, but there are certainly a few that’ll simply pass as serviceable.

So unless you can slide these songs into your friends’ daily listening, blind-side them with ‘Scotchgard the Credit Card’ at the next big celebration. It isn't the kind of song to go by unnoticed.

7.) Funeral - Arcade Fire (ST. PATTY'S 2008)

Funeral

Arcade Fire
Merge Records.


SCQ Rating: 87%

At first listen, Funeral blended well with the indie landscape of 2004. Their percussive strut wasn’t any more aware of dance-rock than Franz Ferdinanz’s, Win Butler’s frantic wail was comparable to Isaac Brock of Modest Mouse, and like their aforementioned colleagues, Arcade Fire had one big hit that everyone knew. While Funeral certainly fared well with critics, the fanbase was growing everywhere – here in Canada and abroad – until it was no longer comparable to but reigning over the indie-rock explosion. Four years after that hype, it’s easier to believe this record has aged than to actually prove it. A classic, this might be.

As the title may have subtly implied, this is a far moodier album than the majority on my Top 8 Drinking Albums for St. Patty's Day. And as such, Arcade Fire have several well-placed slower songs like ‘Neighborhood #4’ and ‘Crown of Love’. Like their gracious song-mates, these ballads maintain the same strong thump that drives the rest of the album forward, as if the pace never really slowed as it instead left room to reflect.

‘Wake Up’ does just that, reviving our spirits in the same way ‘When the Levees Break’ pounds in to close Zeppelin IV. Unlike many recent successful indie-bands of the North, Funeral feels deftly Canadian; its neighbourhoods capped in snow can be nowhere but our own backyard, its restlessly unfaltering heartbeat feels implausibly like ours. Despite its morose subject matter, Funeral is celebrating the unity we can find in life... and I can't think of many better days to share than St. Patty's Day.

6.) Icky Thump - The White Stripes (ST. PATTY'S 2008)

Icky Thump

White Stripes
Third Man Records.


SCQ Rating: 81%

Just when I swear that radio is ruled by worthless bands by wealthy labels, Jack White throws a wrench in my pessimism. In a current market where only the Foo Fighters, Red Hot Chili Peppers and Linkin Park can really afford to rack up radio support, I’m all the more thankful for bands like the White Stripes to consistently deliver great albums that can be shared by both audiophiles and AC/DC tee-wearing DJs. Not only was ‘Icky Thump’ the most adventurous rock song of 2007, it was also the most played on radio. Call it a coincidence or concede that Jack White has had the music industry in his pocket (as performer, producer, collaborator, actor, soundtrack composer and all around bad-ass personality) for nearly a decade now.

It doesn’t hurt that the Stripes know when to drop their albums; really, what would summer be without their classic-rock dementia? My friend Patrick scooped up a copy of Icky Thump before a weekend at the cottage and nine months later, I still can’t listen to ‘Prickly Thorn, but Sweetly Worn’, without wishing I had a bocce ball in one hand and a stein of beer in the other. This record (along with The Raconteurs, Elephant and White Blood Cells) feels designed for humid weekends away with close friends, from the front-porch loitering of ‘300 MPH Torrential Outpour Blues’ to ‘Rag And Bone’s hilarious bonfire stomp.

After the beautifully bizarre Get Behind Me, Satan, Icky Thump feels like a homecoming, with both Jack and Meg sounding utterly devious and absolutely inconsolable. Wearing its Zeppelin hard-rock affinity even closer to sleeve than their long-loved blues-rock, this is the White Stripe’s loudest and imaginative record yet.

5.) Room On Fire - The Strokes (ST. PATTY'S 2008)

Room on Fire

The Strokes
RCA Records.

SCQ Rating: 82%

Timing is everything, as the popular saying goes, and few bands in recent years can attest to that phrase’s veracity quite like The Strokes. In the grand cosmos of music press buffoonery, the New York quintet has been more highly praised and wrongly done than any other major label act I care to think about. Their 2001 debut, Is This It?, was immediately called a classic, with music mags calling it the best album to come out of New York in twenty years. It wasn’t, and hindsight of this fact caught on so quickly, most magazines could’ve written retractions in their next issue. It was, however, one of the year’s best rock records, and (alongside the White Stripes) ushered in the garage-rock revival, which only made expectations for their return greater. While Room on Fire is probably better than their debut, it failed to satisfy a press machine that two years earlier accredited The Strokes as “Saviours of Rock and Roll”.

While a brief glance at the Billboard 200 at the turn of the millennium will indicate why The Strokes were held in such high regard (Nsync, Jay-Z, and Britney kept the charts knee-deep in pop), The Strokes never wanted the prestige or burden of such a position and Room On Fire is an excellent exhibit of that hesitation. Another half-hour collection of melodic swagger, The Strokes change very little: their rhythm section is still air-tight, their guitar riffs are learnable within ten minutes, and Julian Casablancas is singing through his phone-booth studio microphone again.

If their success had gone to their heads at all, it simply made them more confident as musicians. ‘What Ever Happened’ starts things off with the anthemic proclamation “I want to be forgotten and I don’t want to be reminded”, and it’s about as dramatic a lyric as you’ll find on disc, as if whatever tragedy preceded his mood has predestined the album’s content. Luckily, Casablancas’ plan to forget himself is to go on a bender; Room On Fire is all about nights that won’t end if you hold them long enough and those good people who’ll follow you down for one last drink. The all-or-nothing lyrics “We could go and get 40s/Fuck goin’ to that party/Oh really, your folks are away now?/Alright, let’s go, you convinced me,” fit well with ’12:51’s 80s keyboard, and the overall festive feel to this sophomore effort.

There are some acts you don’t necessarily want to change, either because you recognize their limitations or enjoy what they have to offer. In the case of the Strokes, it’s the latter; their 30 minute records of slick Velvet Underground-influenced rock were effortlessly better than First Impressions of Earth, which almost sounded purposeful. Room On Fire best illustrates any band’s philosophy on living the high life, while leaving the tedious posturing for the magazine cover-shoots.

4.) Silent Alarm - Bloc Party (ST. PATTY'S 2008)

Silent Alarm

Bloc Party
Vice Records.


SCQ Rating: 79%

The opening guitar coda on ‘Like Eating Glass’ acts precisely like an beacon, a pulsating combination of tones that announces itself like any non-silent alarm would. And if that nearly unravels the significance of this debut’s title (being what one hears at the on-set of quarter-life crisis, says vocalist Kele Okerere), Silent Alarm undresses the very notion of becoming complacent and grabbing at a picket fence.

Urgency is what keeps this album on the brink at all times; ‘This Modern Love’ only proves to be romantic at its tail-end, while ‘Positive Tension’ showcases Bloc Party in their separate talents before combining like an A+ chemistry lab; Matt Tong’s unmistakable drumming, deep bass grooves, the effect-laden guitar and Okele’s bark. The stability displayed here is what makes sophomore A Weekend in the City feel lopsided; here, no song structure is set in stone – the tempo is always shifting.

A bit overwhelming at fourteen songs, Silent Alarm could’ve lost some of its back end and left us wanting more. By ‘Compliments’ however, even the band sound exhausted, which surprisingly leads to a fresh detour into sonic haziness. It’s a decent comedown from a band whose strength is their potent energy, and also a glimpse into their recording future.

3.) Rock N Roll - Ryan Adams (ST. PATTY'S 2008)

RockNRoll

Ryan Adams
Lost Highway Records.

SCQ Rating: 78%

Maybe it’s because Ryan Adams released five records during my university years (likely the most social years I’ll ever have) that I have such clear associations between his work and my life. While I would’ve adored his records at any age, those recorded during that period always remind me of particular street corners, bar booths, resident bedrooms, good friends or girls. And Rock N Roll wasn’t even supposed to exist; Adams hastily recorded it in spite after Lost Highway refused to release Love is Hell as his proper follow-up to the much-hyped Gold. Adams wrote and recorded the album in two weeks, dwelling in his friend’s bar basement, and paid for its recording on his VISA to keep the label clueless. So I find it humorous that Rock N Roll constantly reminds me of, well, me; some twenty-one year old arts student, who would wait until his parties were at their loudest before sneakily putting this record on for my own enjoyment. Believe it or not, I sold a few people on Ryan Adams this way.

You can feel Adams’ hurt in some cases – the ridiculous lyrics of ‘Wish You Were Here’ are practically sneering at the label that established him as a poetic song-writer – and his inebriated excesses are present the rest of the time. The Strokes-influenced ‘She’s Lost Total Control’ is as raucous an example as one can offer to someone who hasn’t heard this side of Ryan Adams; the Black Flag, Husker Du obsessive who once claimed he became a country singer because “singing punk was too hard”. That may be true, but Mr. Adams pulls it off here, giving his voice a convincing gravel on ‘The Drugs Not Working’ without abandoning his well-earned reputation as a song-bird on album highlight ‘Anybody Wanna Take Me Home’.

When Adams combines his rock sensibilities with that trademark voice, we get ‘So Alive’; a bonafide classic. Even critics who panned this album (there were many) must at least respect how compelling Adams presents his case; to make a riff-heavy rock record, paying homage to his favourite bands (which was coincidentally why critics hated it). For an artist who excels at writing mid-tempo songs with sad lyrics, Rock N Roll is an unexpected triumph.

2.) Boys and Girls in America - The Hold Steady (ST. PATTY'S 2008)

Boys and Girls in America

The Hold Steady
Vagrant Records.

SCQ Rating: 85%

Acclaimed lyricist/singer Craig Finn has crafted three album’s worth of characters who impulsively drink, kiss, gamble on the impossible, skirt religion, blow off parental authority, do a ton of drugs and learn about life without necessarily learning from it. During these turbulent highs then lows of boys and girls, I can’t help but think The Hold Steady are making music to be played during each of those parties, make-outs and life lessons. I’m sure eternal dork Finn wishes his records were around when he was a depressed teen. Surrounded by a band that resembles Springsteen’s E Street Band back when Bruce let them play, The Hold Steady is considered the best bar band in America for good reason, with classic rock riffs, gorgeous piano and lyrics that justify any drunken desires.

“Now we just need something to celebrate/I wanna open some bottles up,” Finn sings on ‘Same Kooks’, while any number of quotables from Boys and Girls… confetti-littered liner notes turn to drinking when the pulse starts racing. That the band can keep up with Finn’s nasally speak-singing and compliment his lyrical strength with flawless arrangements make this album unparalleled as a party album, and unlikely to be successfully covered by anyone else. The two slow-burners on disc are equally majestic; ‘First Night’ is a piano-led number for the boozed up blues that rises from its ashtray for a sensational close of guitar and strings, while Finn chants “when they kiss they spit white noise”. The second, ‘Citrus’, is all acoustic for a Saturday sunset; romanticizing the souls who gather at local taverns and new lovers who make it out at closing time.

A record that doesn’t waste a word or note, Boys and Girls in America was made for day-long celebrations like St. Patrick’s Day, where for twelve or so hours, we all have a role to play in Finn’s twisted tales. A ‘Massive Night’, if nothing more.

1.) Sound of Silver - LCD Soundsystem (ST. PATTY'S 2008)

Sound of Silver

LCD Soundsystem
DFA Records.


SCQ Rating: 91%

St. Patrick’s Day, 2007

I was going to start with where I woke up but I no longer recall. I was living between cities and my parents were in the process of moving houses, but I think I slept on the couch of my friend Patrick’s haunted apartment. The three of us (Patrick, his girlfriend Kait, and I) had a variety of things to collect before we took off to Toronto to celebrate the Irish holiday with friends. In charge of getting a variety of chips, pop, Blarney Stone, etc., Kait and I also picked up two essentials for the day; for her, a pair of green sneakers, for me, the new LCD Soundsystem.

I had been mildly pleased with James Murphy’s LCD debut but it played out like a compilation or best-of (the second disc was, to its credit) and I never found reason to put it on repeated-listen priority. We met up with Andy in the early afternoon, scooped up Emily, and on that highway from Hamilton to Toronto it became clear that Sound of Silver was an entirely different record. ‘Get Innocuous!’ opens with a nearly identical beat as his underground hit ‘Losing My Edge’, then transforms into a keyboard heavy dance-track featuring mightily improved, Bowie-esque vocals by Murphy (C'mon, his name is MURPHY, for godssake). It’s a breathtaking seven minutes that feel like three. ‘North American Scum’ had been implanted between our ears after two listens, and we were already beginning to sing along as we parked outside Leith and Nic’s.

Their apartment was swimming in green, strands dangling from the ceiling like vines and balloons waiting to be batted around. The decks of cards were still spotless, the fridge couldn’t even digest the liquor it had to hold, and we still believed our Blarney stone to be stone, not a snow-covered slab of concrete. Yes, the day was young and by the end of it, we all had heard Sound of Silver countless times; the funky vocals of ‘Time to Get Away’, the electronic glow of its title track, and of course, that cut-up piano ecstasy of ‘All My Friends’. The vines and balloons were floor-bound, and the fridge was ready to be gutted. Happy St. Patrick’s Day, people.

Cove - A Weather

Cove

A Weather
Team Love Records.


SCQ Rating: 78%

Nothing will grab you about Cove if you’re not listening for it. There’s nothing particularly striking about Aaron Gerber or Sarah’s Winchester’s vocals either; his Sufjan-esque earnestness rarely wises above a mumble, whereas her voice could be just about anybody’s. Yet once you’ve heard the record four or five times (which isn’t hard to do, trust me), a chemistry between Gerber and Winchester ignites – one part subtlety, one part intimacy – that beefs up these songs; the way her voice hovers over his off-kilter, punctuating lyrics in ‘Pinky Toe’ or when they trade off lyrics, verse by verse, as in the power-pop of ‘Small Potatoes’. It’s when you let your guard down that these nine quiet songs creep up on you, leading to sudden stare-offs in parks or passenger seats.

The arrangements are most striking in their barrenness, focusing almost entirely on guitar, electric piano and the heavy thudding of Winchester’s drums. You’re never unaware of a sudden organ humming in the corner of your speaker (on ‘It’s Good to Know’), or an extra acoustic ruminating in the shadow of the other (the beautiful ‘Shirley Road Shirley’). Such stark recordings render every moment notable, and that these songs sport enough muscle to justify their expansive time-slots (most hovering around five minutes) says something for A Weather’s songwriting prowess. ‘Spiders, Snakes’ illustrates this patience-pays-off aesthetic perfectly, opening the disc with a painfully slow pound of a drum-beat, the vocals and keyboard shuffling within the confines of that percussive dirge, which is then temporarily set free by a chorus, featuring simple guitar and the duo letting their voices rise beyond a mesmerized chant.

This strict obedience to song structure would damn most quiet, emotively acoustic bands, and it’s an obstacle that A Weather don’t successfully clear on every song. ‘Pilot’s Arrow’ lacks any of the record’s tension, and because that strain is one of the band’s great strengths, the song is visibly weaker. There are other slight flaws but they’re hard to pinpoint, as if you’re ready to judge it before a chord changes and suddenly that flaw turns out to be right as rain. The folky, organic flow of Cove feels painted in greens and grays; ideal for approaching April, but because it’s all cut from the same palette, its lulls threaten to become dull more than once.

Regardless, this record is fresh, if not sonically than certainly lyrically. Gerber gives us romance from tiny moments, dissecting the sounds a lover makes in the night (‘Oh My Stars’) or daring a friend to leave her clothes on his bedroom floor. Sung plainly without poetry, Gerber’s daydreams illustrate these unassuming tunes with deeper resonance. Released tomorrow on Conor Oberst-associated Team Love Records, A Weather might be the moody breeze to carry us sensitive folk-sters into the Spring, or anyone still crying over American Analog Set breaking up.

Listen to A Weather here.

**Atlas Sound Concert Review**

Atlas Sound
Horseshoe Tavern
Toronto, ON
February 28th, 2008.


Bradford Cox pulled across the Canadian border last Thursday with his Atlas Sound band in tow to support his solo debut Let the Blind Lead Those Who Can See But Cannot Feel. When I first heard teases for the record, I was excited for Cox’s laptop compositions mixed with some organic instrumentation, but once word spread about his tour band (featuring Adam Forkner of White Rainbow and Honey Owens of Valet), I knew I couldn’t miss this show.

Emily and I arrived halfway through Valet’s set and found her droning rock and whispered vocals appropriate for the surprisingly laid-back crowd. First off, the Horseshoe was still half empty; something we didn’t expect after arriving an hour and a half after doors opened. Secondly, much of the crowd who had braved the weather to come out were sitting on the floor, a good few yards from the stage. Even Forkner, immediately recognizable with long dark hair and closed eyes, was lying flat on the floor. We settled into the end of Valet’s set, crossed-legged next to Forkner, and warmed up to her washes of sound perforated by Brian Foote on electronics and Bradford himself on the drum-kit.

Next up was White Rainbow, who explored the stage by striking individual drums then looping it, creating a live-off-the-floor rhythm from nothing. For those audience members unaware of his music, White Rainbow asked for no fanfare, barely recognizing his own presence and playing none of his recorded material (he would later tell me that he prefers creating songs on the spot over performing his catalogue). Hunched down onstage with a guitar and electronic equipment, White Rainbow’s introduction was impressively bombastic, humble, and unfortunately, too brief.

Honey Owens and Forkner returned within ten minutes alongside Bradford Cox and the rest of the Atlas Sound band (Brian Foote and drummer Stephanie Macksey), who together launched into a spacey set of loose, dreamy psychedelics. Although fans of Cox are familiar with his unpredictable showmanship, the man behind Atlas Sound was jovial and professional, delivering many of Let the Blind…’s best tracks without wearing any dresses (which would’ve also been pretty memorable). By now the crowd had filled in and most everyone was standing (if not dancing) at the foot of the stage. The band effort did justice to Cox’s laptop recordings, piling noise onto ‘Recent Bedroom’ and ‘Cold As Ice’ while retaining the ambient leanings of those album stand-outs. In a few instances, the band renovated electronic numbers into shoegazey rock songs, as heard in the aggressive ‘Scraping Past’ and show-stopper ‘Winter Vacation’, which brought the set to a ferocious close and hypnotized everyone with its propulsive beat.

Cox became more talkative throughout the set, discussing the severe cold of Canadian winter and countering it later with the shock that the venue was hot enough to make him sweat (no small feat, considering he admittedly doesn’t possess any body fat), and by the time the band reconvened for an encore, Cox was ready to just hang out. Testing the crowd, he played out a Dirty Projectors riff he couldn’t finish and engaged in conversation about a variety of songs he couldn’t be bothered playing. This was a great opportunity to hear a few of his countless (and awesome) unreleased tunes, which have been accumulating on his busy blog over the past year. Cox encouraged us to shout out requests, and I was lucky enough to hear two of mine: ‘Activation’ (well, half of it), from the Orange Olms Glow EP, and ‘Requiem to All the Lonely Teenagers with Passed-Out Moms’. The latter was another show highlight, that climaxed in a duel guitar stand-off between Forkner and Cox that was mind-blowingly well-executed considering they weren’t expecting to play it.

While a few critics would label such an encore unprofessional, it summed up a great show where it was evident that both band and audience were enjoying themselves. Cox has made clear through numerous interviews, blog posts, and albums that he has nothing to hide, and by blurring the line between stage and crowd, he succeeded in sharing his musical genius, challenging and morose as it is, to a crowd that genuinely needed to feel it.

(Gig Photography by the one and only Em Pascoe)

RIPPED OFF '07

The following are fantastic albums that were denied entry into my TOP ALBUMS OF 2007 because, alas, they were released in a year prior to when I discovered it. While I actually worked out where each of these would’ve placed on my finished list (and what they would’ve replaced), I’ll just list them in order of Ripped Off to Truly Ripped Off.

It's Never Been Like That - Phoenix (RIPPED OFF '07)

It’s Never Been Like That

Phoenix
Arts & Crafts Records.

SCQ Rating: 78%

Something I purchased in January of 07, I immediately understood why their third album was featured in several year-end lists of 2006. I recall sitting on my bed, beginning to memorize lyrics and melodies as I played the record repeatedly, and being blown away that I was so comfortable and familiar with an album I had only owned for several hours.

I can’t recall an album latching itself onto anyone who casually hears it like It’s Never Been Like That since Weezer’s Blue Album. It’s quirkiness and brevity matched with such power-pop sensibilities comes off nearly as flawlessly. Unlike that seminal 1994 release, however, I cannot vouch for any Phoenix song to have the lasting impact as any given song off that self-titled effort. While ‘Long Distance Call’ or ‘Courtesy Laughs’ play well blaring from your car stereo or any social gathering with friends, it won’t be chosen when you’re on your own, opting for a night alone. Despite the often sunny disposition of Weezer’s debut effort, there was considerable depth in the band’s songwriting and River Cuomo’s lyrics which made it ideal for both drunken celebration and worthless self-pity.

So why make a comparison between Phoenix and Weezer, back when Weezer mattered? For two reasons: 1) I’d wager this band is capable of writing an album superior to this one; as fun as INBLT but deeper in mood and complexity, and 2) because INBLT lacks that dimension that divides flippantly off-the-cuff indie records from classics. The fact that this record requires a particular listening environment is what keeps it from greatness.

The Humbucking Coil - B. Fleischmann (RIPPED OFF '07)

The Humbucking Coil

B.Fleischmann
Morr Music Records.

SCQ Rating: 80%

I had wanted to purchase this several times throughout 2006, but failed to locate it until by accident in February of 07. Zangief and I were on a record-run during a weekend of drinking; he picked up Deerhoof’s Friend Opportunity, I grabbed Mr. B.Fleischmann. The two day venture was mostly soundtracked by Do Make Say Think and Xiu Xiu, but on the morning I left, I connected to the mellow electronic tones which felt all too nostalgic as I stared over the winter balcony into a city I’d lived in for quite some time, and would be leaving for far longer.

B. Fleischmann has long been an essential contributor to the Morr Music sound, and ‘Broken Monitors’ proves how indispensable his relaxed beats are to the German label’s impressive catalogue. The focus of Humbucking Coil is Fleischmann’s interest in the guitar, and throughout this tight eight-song collection, he weaves its subtle tones into memorable slow-grooves. For those who argue it can become homogenous, they’re not wrong; Fleischmann turns the same trick here more than twice. But it’s hard to argue with such lovely results, especially with collaborator Christof Kurzmann taking occasional vocal duties. It’s a well-planned album and a must-listen/first-step for anyone interested in discovering electronica.

At Home With Owen - Owen (RIPPED OFF '07)

At Home With Owen

Owen
Polyvinyl Records.

SCQ Rating: 81%

Another early January purchase, I eagerly picked up Owen’s latest after nobody responded to its exclamation on my 2006 Christmas list. Falling hard for Owen’s earlier EP No Good for No One Now, I was merely interested in this new release until I heard ‘Bad News’ on the internet and officially changed my record-buying priorities. Not only Owen’s first studio-recorded collection of songs, but also noteworthy in his newly married, reluctantly domesticated lyrical references, At Home With Owen proves he’s still a smartass in his relationship woes, but with age, he’s garnering some wisdom as well.

If his previous output (mostly recorded in a bedroom of his mother’s house) begged the question of what songwriter Mike Kinsella could do with a studio, At Home With Owen’s expansive sound answers quickly, as heard in the echoed piano and thudding percussion of ‘Bad News’. Kinsella remains as quick-witted lyrically as he is reliable musically, with ‘The Sad Waltzes of Pietro Crespi’ beginning like a classic Owen tune until warm strings rise and swoon the song into a beautiful close.

Most touching of all is the feeling that Kinsella is looking further down the road these days. Never one to mince words, his lyrical verve leans more toward rites of passage: marriage, commitment and death, which resonates best on ‘One of These Days’, which comments on the passing of Kinsella’s father amid a cascade of twinkling piano and folky guitar. Mixing his indie-edge in such soft arrangements makes this album his most accomplished to date.

When the Angels Make Contact - Matt Mays (RIPPED OFF '07)

When the Angels Make Contact

Matt Mays
Warner Canada Records.

SCQ Rating: 85%

This I did get for Christmas in 2006, and quickly became immersed in my third Matt Mays album in as many years. It’s a strange album, given that it’s a soundtrack to a movie that was never completed, but it’s a Neil Young-strangeness that awards some props to a young artist who shows little regard for what genre fans might like to pigeon-hole him into.

After conquering folk, roots-rock and Springsteen-grandeur on his first two albums (one mostly acoustic, the second entirely electric), When the Angels Make Contact finds Mays mixing the aforementioned with electronic instruments, hip-hop and frankly, the best production (courtesy of El Torpedo’s Tim Jim Baker and Mays himself) for some of Mays best songs. Perhaps because of the unfinished film’s subject matter (a biker who searches the brink of mortality for his lost love), songs like ‘Spoonful of Sugar’ and the title track feel emotionally troubled compared to Mays’ earlier work, while ‘Rough N’ Tumble Come Down’ sounds down-right dangerous in fantastic fashion.

Truthfully, some of the songs within this 18 track behemoth are so convincing, I’ve occasionally daydreamed about how perfect this record would’ve been had he ditched 40% of the album (the soundtrack-y interludes, mostly) and kept the absolute essential ten songs. It would’ve been a contender for album of the year, or at the very least, my #1 Truly Ripped Off Album of 07.

"Oh You're So Silent, Jens" - Jens Lekman (RIPPED OFF '07)

“Oh You’re so Silent, Jens”

Jens Lekman
Secretly Canadian Records.

SCQ Rating: 87%

Purchased shortly after Christmas 06, this album became my sudden obsession. It was like a new relationship; one I would study over the details of daily listening and weigh the aspects I loved versus the occasional thing that irritated me. And while this collection of vinyl and singles contains both things I love and disregard, it’s so charming in its sequencing and raw melancholy that I couldn’t help but fall in love with it. It’s better than the recent Night Falls Over Kortedala, which featured on my Top Albums of 2007, but sadly, Jens released this in 2005 and I was probably lost in Broken Social Scene at that time.

Luckily, Lekman was as sample-happy then as he is now, with several of these samples completely lifted from its source artists (Lekman openly admits to this, stating that he only stole them because he couldn’t afford to pay the $$$ to ‘borrow’ them). As is expected, these samples are used perfectly, from the Belle and Sebastian swagger of ‘Black Cab’ to the Avalanches’ influence of ‘Maple Leaves’. With a songwriting talent as diverse as Lekman’s, the only way to really identify one of these samples is if you’ve heard the original; otherwise it fits in as another great song in this young crooner’s catalogue.

At seventeen tracks and compiled of several 7-inch singles and EPs, “Oh You’re So Silent, Jens” is surprisingly fluent albeit a few mediocre tracks. ‘Pocketful of Money’ suffers from a baritone-heavy chorus that quickly itches your stereo-remote finger, while ‘F-Word’, with its recordings of neighbourhood alley-cats calling out, is simply overshadowed by the songs around it. For those aching over last year’s Night Falls Over Kortedala, I beseech you to hear this compilation album of Jen’s finest folk and balladry.

You, You're a History in Rust - Do Make Say Think (RIPPED OFF '07)

You, You’re a History in Rust

Do Make Say Think
Constellation Records.

SCQ Rating: 84%

“What!?!”, you say, “but that album came out in 2007!!”

Yeah, I know. That’s why it’s by far the most Truly Ripped Off record on my list. There was little doubt that History in Rust belonged on my Best of… list back in the Spring of 07, when a friend burned it for me (as he had scored an advanced copy at their London show in February), but because I hadn’t purchased it before finalizing my year-end list, the rogue CDR in the group had to go.

DMST’s latest became a personal record for me during a two-week trek of Nova Scotia. Wandering the streets of Halifax and its barren outskirts, I kept History in Rust in my headphones to keep warm and decide whether I wanted to put down roots in this port-city. The fragile beauty of opener ‘A With Living’ and ‘A History In Rust’ present a pastoral folk-rock that felt perfect for walking the rural backroads of Eastern Canada, while ‘Bound to Be that Way’ and ‘The Universe!’ shake off any rust with shredding instrumentals.

You, You’re a History in Rust stayed with me on my trip back to Ontario and subsequent move to Toronto. Forgive me, DMST… but know that as last month, I finally purchased your late great record and it inspired me to raise my hat to all of those uncelebrated in the past year.