4. Avalanche - Matthew Good (2003)

(Taken from the SCQ Review:)

As thematically loaded as Avalanche is – especially compared to his previously addictive but one-note intensity – every idea and sentiment owns its own stereo territory here. The arrangements on ‘Avalanche’ seem to reflect his sort-of-a-protest urgency and most are new to Good’s repetoire: the electronic textures of ‘Near Fantastica’, the cut-up vocal climax of the title track, and some gorgeous back-up by the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra on ‘While We Were Hunting Rabbits’, among others. As well as sharing a newfound sense of sonic-adventurism, each of these just-mentioned songs detail Good’s first pushes away from commercial success by crafting eight-minute epics that appealed to neither radio nor casual fans.

Although I expect his forthcoming album to challenge his best work as forcefully as Hospital Music did in 2007, Avalanche remains a turning point and his hard-fought salvation. Years after its release, Good would mull this record over and decide that had he created it all over again, he would’ve cut ‘Double Life’ and ‘Long Way Down’ from the album’s back-half. And although I completely agree that it would’ve made a wonderful album damn-near perfect, even the rough edges of Avalanche have grown, albeit more sluggishly, into the lush folds of its majority.

Vancouver - Matthew Good

Vancouver

Matthew Good
Universal Music.

SCQ Rating: 87%

In April of 2008, I posted some rough first impressions on a series of demos leaked to the internet, all of which were purportedly conceived and considered for Matthew Good’s follow-up to Hospital Music. While the post has been a regular attraction for curious Matthew Good fans this past year and a half, I hadn’t bothered to re-read those demo-inspired sentiments until tonight, as I expected to disagree now that those songs have been studio-recorded and widely released as Vancouver. Yet of the demos that made it to Good’s fourth solo album (‘Bad Pennies’ was wisely nixed), who could deny what convincing mannequins they are when compared to their finished compositions? Due to my usurping of those downloaded demos, Vancouver lacks a ton of surprises one would expect from a new release… meaning two things: (1) the many things I loved about the demos are bigger and better on this finished LP, and (2) a few aspects of the demos I shrugged about remain largely unchanged.

Skirting those speed-bumps for now, however, let’s get to Vancouver’s considerable punch; that after Hospital Music’s acoustic and autobiographical intimacy, Good has fought forward with his first unabashed rock record since 2004. Better yet, it’s his most impassioned set since Avalanche, again neighbouring personal reflections with political call-to-arms and sounding positively indebted to his subjects of choice: the state of human decency, the state of Matthew Good. It seems like a disclose and destroy strategy, touching upon his private life in delicate detail while swinging his social viewpoints wildly, but given the BC city’s recent lack of human decency (in a coarse nut-shell: the impending Olympics have instilled city workers with the “right” to forcibly displace homeless people, some of whom Good knows), Vancouver is a well-planned platform for Good to combine his seething disbelief with nearly two decades of lived-in memories. The weight of this back-story isn’t required reading but it provides additional chills for long-term Good fans. ‘Empty’s Theme Park’, for example, stories Good’s early adulthood living out of a basement apartment in Port Moody but beneath the surface level - of a rearview look at him and his city, growing up – ‘Empty’s Theme Park’ is a microcosm of many Vancouver themes, outlining Good’s own mental illness, then undiagnosed and torturing him, and how it connects him to a tragic percentage of homeless people. How deeply one wishes to tread into the record's subject matter is as optional as how much one chooses to read on his prolific, oft-outspoken website, but what’s important is that Good’s return to rock isn’t without purpose or real emotion.

That said, Vancouver doesn’t forget to bundle up some newborn Matthew Good classics. True to the demo’s potential, ‘The Boy Who Could Explode’ is a thrilling masterwork; grinding as if Good was scratching palm-stiff guitar strings like a train over tracks, the song blossoms into a symphonic anthem of unblinking assuredness. In fact, coupled with the intensity of opener ‘Last Parade’, this latest album nearly overwhelms in its first third. Luckily its mid-section settles into meat and potatoes rock on ‘Us Remains Impossible’ and the twilight acoustics of ‘On Nights Like Tonight’ (think a more personal, concise ‘Avalanche’). Considering Vancouver’s multiple candidates for “classic” status, the track that screams out the clearest is ‘A Silent Army In the Trees’, which digs into the gray area separating childhood war fantasies and real military life with some of Good’s most powerful lyrics to date. Interesting enough, ‘A Silent Army In the Trees’ and nearly every song on Vancouver is longer than it needs to be… yet as a testament to the songwriter’s charisma, the songs don’t suffer from their seven or nine minute lengths. If anything, their longer gestation time uncovers added significance for listeners, further removing Good’s work from radio-rock’s narrow-minded limitations and warranting him an audience all his own.

If there’s any miscalculation to be mentioned, it’s that some tracks feel longer than they are on account of tepid backing-band arrangements. When Good announced ‘Champions of Nothing’ would open Hospital Music at over ten-minutes in length, he was the first to comment that it was his longest composition. And while no single track on Vancouver crosses that milestone, their stationary performances (the unwavering percussion, the carbon copy guitar lines) lack spontaneity as if there was no backing-band, as if some of these tracks never evolved beyond the measured tracking that laptop recording insists upon. In that respect, a great song like ‘Vancouver National Anthem’ is reduced to a decent take and ‘Empty’s Theme Park’ borders on overkill. Yet ‘Champions of Nothing’, still Good’s longest song, feels far shorter than both of these tracks thanks to its shifting, surging dynamic; a few songs on Vancouver’s back-end could’ve used more of that.

Bearing in mind how bleak Hospital Music was, it’s something of a double-take to realize that Vancouver might just be the darker record. Brooding strings and ominous synths, while shaping the album’s sonic mood no differently than how the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra filled out Avalanche’s sound, menace beneath every track and Good’s lyrics recapture the visceral, angry mentality of Beautiful Midnight (granted, with a more mature, justified approach). The key to this permeating darkness is wielding it effectively, whether needling it into goofy social commentary on ‘The Future is X-Rated’ or sacrificing it altogether for vulnerability on ‘Empty Road’. Although Vancouver is most certainly his easiest solo album to get excited about, Good’s instrumental moodiness nearly gets the best of him.

3. Beautiful Midnight - Matthew Good Band, 1999 (Best of the 90s)

Beautiful Midnight

Matthew Good Band
Universal Records.


As much as Good purports himself an unbiased activist on his constantly updated website, he never seems interested in playing the sheppard. Pity, since most of his registered flock is so unabashedly blind, they would kiss a pile of garbage if it vaguely resembled his ass. Point is, devout MG fans (myself included, although I steer clear of obsession) are an opinionated bunch when it comes to the man’s work. There’s the debate over what’s better: the MGB years or Good’s solo output, or for bonus indie-points, Good’s early 90s demos or Good’s post-band efforts? Hell, SCQ has indulged a similar debate by pitting Avalanche against Hospital Music for solo-album supremacy. One thing remains largely agreed upon, whether you’re a longtime or casual fan; that Beautiful Midnight is the crowning achievement (both artistically and commercially) that the Matthew Good Band ever released.

You could feel Good’s creativity swelling from the moment Underdogs went gold; the 'Apparitions' video, his growing presence on stage, his opinions publicized coast to coast and his prolific writing of self-described manifestos. Suddenly the brooding artist who wrote ‘She’s Got a New Disguise’ had a formidable platform to speak from and aside from some purposefully aloof entries about porn stars and setting off the world’s nuclear warheads on India, Good has used the stage responsibly. No surprise that the album recorded and toured throughout the posting of these online manifestos was Beautiful Midnight; fourteen songs that menace and unfurl the darkness of his imagination, with the odd faux-commentary (‘The Future is X-Rated’) thrown in for ironic measure. Beyond the noteworthy four singles are what best carries Beautiful Midnight to greatness; the ferocious stadium stomps of ‘Giant’, the black-comedy punchlines in ‘I Miss New Wave’, the restless but absolutely perfected misery of ‘Suburbia’. Good always knew when to rest his case, as proven in the deafening collapse of ‘Born To Kill’ – the record’s heaviest moment – which gives rise to ‘Running For Home’s daybreak soliloquy. One of Canada’s finest albums and an essential recording of the 90s.

Demos 2008 - Matthew Good

My brother (a fellow Matthew Good fan for life) recently uncovered internet chatter concerning a series of MG demos that were circulating the acclaimed Canadian artist’s website forum. After a frustrating search and the eventual help of an altruistic MG fan/stranger, we found ourselves in the fortunate possession of EIGHT brand new Matt Good demos. What was more exciting, as we pressed play, is how much labour has been clearly put forward; these “demos” all feature full-band arrangements, often including a string section and some occasional production quirks. Although I feel like I may have peeked at my Christmas bounty well before they’re waiting beneath the tree, I still recommend seeking out these hard-to-find previews of what Matthew Good’s fourth solo album could potentially sound like.

******

The Boy Who Could Explode, I recall, was the first song I immediately took to; its subtle strings and ambience mark it as more polished than the majority of these demos. Even more commanding is Good’s vocals, which begin in a gruff and patient stream-of-conscious before taking off in a heavy, mid-tempo chorus. For those who haven’t heard it, I would place this song in the Avalanche-section of the MG Quality Barometer (meaning it’s very good); like ‘Near Fantastica’, it keeps to its tempo religiously while sharing a orchestral arrangement similar to ‘Weapon’. At the 4:30 mark, the chorus slows down and military-style drumming echoes under a gorgeous guitar riff as Good laments “What are you thinking?”. This four-word repetition never gets old, as Matt multi-tracks his vocals with the sneer that made old MGB classics so edgy, while near the song’s climax (6:15), Matt harmonizes several layers over that frustrated question, bringing it into a beautiful, if uncertain, close.

If Hospital Music is any indication (where the two shortest songs - beyond the two interlude tracks - are the covers), Good’s growing disdain for hit singles has made him a better songwriter. Here, we find several songs breaching the five minute mark and three reaching into eight minute territory; a running-length Matt would’ve marveled at as recently as last year. Empty’s Theme Park, at nearly nine minutes, is both the most elaborate and the most fist-pump worthy. I get the impression that Matt is still working the kinks out of this one: how he wants to sing it and how many verses he’ll iron out. What I hope is that he gives some thought to the drumming, which besides being as exciting as a drum-machine, is nearly identical to The Boy Who Could Explode. And perhaps it is a drum-machine… but it sure sounds enough like long-time MG percussionist Pat Steward. C’mon, work some dynamics in there!

Volcanoes is another mid-tempo rock-out that, despite resting too hard on its power-chords, builds into an impressive release. Unfortunately, this release is a flash in the pan when nearly half the track’s running-time is spent in the opening and closing orchestral atmospherics. This demo, more than any other, feels unfinished or stitched together from spare parts.

Fought to Fight It finds Good stepping hesitantly out of his comfort space with 80s Atari effects and Replacements’ guitar solos. It isn’t an overwhelming success worth changing his sound for but Good incorporates it well to a decent classic-rock influenced chorus. It’s scrappy and unlike any of his previous work, but would also be better judged when cleaned up in the studio. Right now, it merely sounds promising.

“Come on over, you’ll regret it,” Matt warns in the opening of Us Remains Impossible, and his casual devil-may-care tone fits the slacker, Pavement-style riff well. It’s so raw and dirty that I almost wince when the string section swells in to dull its edge. While the chorus isn’t poetry and Good’s multi-tracked vocals sound desperate, he has put some serious work into his harmonizing at the break between chorus and next verse, where we witness a street choir of Matt Goods, angelic and pitch-perfect. Although it is sonically closest to White Light Rock and Roll Review, Us Remains Impossible is another hard-to-pinpoint MG demo.

There might be a good song hiding in Bad Pennies but this demo isn’t the place to find it. The bass-line is anticipatory and the guitar riff is benign enough, but they are drowned out by too-loud and too many vocal layers. Beyond that, the lyrics feel improvised and the chorus is too one-dimensional for Good to be able to pass with. There are rare Matthew Good B-sides floating around that are infinitely better than this.

After the predominantly gloomy Hospital Music highlighted Good’s ability to wrap us tight in cotton-soft depression, I’m surprisingly excited to report that only one song here sports the melancholy of that great album. On Nights Like Tonight has the momentum of ‘Avalanche’ but the lyrical innocence of his pre-MGB demo days. As Good coos “Just sit tight. I’ll find a way to get to you,” after some emotional percussion and an orchestral swell (yeah, another!), I get chills in the same way the close of ‘A Single Explosion’ gets me every time.

I’ve saved maybe the best for last with Vancouver National Anthem, a pulse-pounding anthem that features a guitar riff that won’t be easily shaken from your ears and Good’s most impassioned vocals since, well, Hospital Music anyway. Good has long blogged about the inhumane way Vancouver’s homeless population is treated by city officials, and with the Olympic tents now pitched, poverty issues are being further shoved under the rug. Since Good lives in one of these less-prosperous neighbourhoods and has long been witness to the marginalization of the homeless, Vancouver National Anthem might be Good’s on-the-record response.

3) Loser Anthems - Matthew Good Band (Top Extended Plays)

Loser Anthems

Matthew Good Band
Universal Records.

SCQ Rating: 91%

While The Audio of Being’s reported year-long mixing process might make it the most sonically adventurous MGB album, Loser Anthems, released five months earlier, afforded the band a stress-free opportunity to explore the freedom of studio-time. 'Flashdance 2’ is not only one of their finest songs, it’s also inexplicably their poorest mix of any record. That it’s followed up by the crystal-clean ambience of ‘The Man From Harold Wood’, a song that is essentially the come-down for ‘Flashdance 2’ only makes it stranger.

Following the fist-pumping arena-rock of ‘My Life as a Circus Clown’, Loser Anthems turns into Matt Good’s personal experiment. As stated in an interview, Matt became interested in recording empty space. He’d take microphones out into the studio halls, prop them by open windows, and their stillness clearly occupies the EP’s last three songs. ‘Flight Recorder from Viking 7’ is an isolated, droning tale of a lost astronaut (or perhaps, Good himself who was dealing with the pressures of fame at that time), and features Holly McNarland in an unexpectedly great contribution. ‘Life Beyond the Minimum Safe Distance’ is one of the best pieces Good has written, and last track ‘The Fine Art of Falling Apart’ is recorded as a first take; a song written and meant to be sung just once. While it may lack the shimmer of what would become the MGB’s last album, its grainy experimentation makes Loser Anthems one of the finest Extended Plays I own.