Canadian Audiophile's Reviews and News
Great Lake Swimmers – Lost Channels
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One of the true wonders of Great Lake Swimmers’ Lost Channels is the texture the music picks up due to being recorded in the Thousand Islands area near the border. The Thousand Islands is the name of an archipelago of 1,793 islands that straddles the Canadian and American border on the Saint Lawrence River.
The Great Lake Swimmers, Tony Dekker’s gang of folk musicians and shifty characters, builds marvellously off of the lost and hidden places in the Thousand Islands. Dekker’s songs capture the mystery and magic of the historic sites, churches and old castles that they were recorded in, offering natural quality that just can’t be replicated with studio magic.
Beyond the grain of the songs, though, is the melody of the songs. Great Lake Swimmers haven’t just recorded a gimmick record in hopes of hanging pedestrian, featureless indie tracks on the thriving authenticity of Singer Castle and other locations. Indeed, these are real songs and these are good songs.
Dekker’s songwriting is warm, rich and enticing. He’s planted the music in rich earth, letting the pieces grow strong roots and getting away from the precariousness of some of his earlier work. There’s confidence here, sure, but there’s also a desire to really accomplish something with this recording and Lost Channels moves quietly and purposefully as a result.
There are a host of musicians backing Dekker’s play here, from Julie Fader to Blue Rodeo’s Bob Egan, but Lost Channels is the singer’s show for the most part. He does well to split the album into sides, seemingly, and captures two distinctive elements on one record without sounding out of place.
The first portion, beginning with upbeat album opener “Palmistry,” takes off on a bit of an early R.E.M.-ish vibe and builds through a series of upbeat, full-sounding songs. “Everything is Moving So Fast” carries this on, using a lovely vocal performance by Serena Ryder to give it weight. And “The Chorus in the Underground” draws on an optimistic, jolly alt-country tone.
After the chilling “Singer Castle Bells,” Dekker’s Swimmers head off in another direction and gear down for the album’s second half.
Here, blue-collar heartache and melancholy form the order of the day. “Stealing Tomorrow” is a beautifully moving track, introducing us to the lower, hushed tones of Dekker’s voice. And “New Light” carries on the minimalistic theme with eerie guitar and banjo.
Lost Channels is a beautiful journey of a record, taking us island-hopping through the Thousand Islands with a case of beer and a sense of discovery. This is simple, straightforward folk played honestly and played well, but the richness and surface of the recording makes it more than that. Dekker’s songs allow us in, while the texture draws us further.
Tags: great lake swimmers, lost channels
Charles Spearin – The Happiness Project
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Ontario’s Charles Spearin is probably best known as the founding member of Do Make Say Think or as a part of the tremendous Broken Social Scene. He also contributes to Valley of the Giants, the post-rock supergroup.
As pronounced as his career has been thus far as a member of those aforementioned groups, there may be nothing more interesting and engaging than Spearin’s solo debut. The Happiness Project is a concept album, to be sure, and the concept is the pure, unadulterated pursuit of happiness through the exploration of rhythm, tone and mood in speech.
The concept for The Happiness Project is a simple and surprising one. Spearin interviewed people from his neighbourhood on the subject of happiness. In listening to the interviews after they were completed, the musician honed in on the natural sing-song quality of the voices and on the naturally occurring rhythms in speech patterns, seeking to blur the lines between speech and song.
The results are phenomenal, challenging and invigorating. The Happiness Project, through the use of instruments to accompany the interviews. At times we can barely hear the voices, shadowed as they are by elegant saxophone or piano. Sometimes Spearin will run a loop of a particularly melodic passage of speech, building a song with the atmosphere and cadence of the interview.
Pure joy keeps The Happiness Project from being another nutty experimental jazz concept album and makes it into a lush, joyful, profound piece of art. It is one of the best records of the year.
The songs are named for the interview subjects, with “Mrs. Morris” getting the distinct privilege of bookending the record. She offers uncomplicated, eloquent points about the nature of happiness, telling us that love is what truly matters and that we must love one another in order to truly love ourselves. Over her marvellously touching words, a tenor saxophone shadows her tone. “Good morning, what could make you so happy?” says Mrs. Morris. “Love.”
“Anna” has her voice mimicked by the sounds of a traditional jazz act, with a trumpet and piano playing with the rhythmic qualities of a repeated sentence. The piece dances away from Anna’s words teasingly, working easily into a fully realized melody from a few interesting notes.
Other pieces find Spearin electing to let the subjects speak for themselves. “Vanessa” builds on the subject’s sweetly musical accent and lets her speak before a well of touching sound springs up. And “Marisa” opens with a few seconds of atmospheric noise before the distant subject whispers through some mistakes and glitches. “Send me home,” she says and Spearin builds on the cyclic rhythms.
While The Happiness Project might not be for everyone, its appeal is actually broader than one might think. Spearin’s exploration of the human voice’s natural inflection and tenor is fascinating, enlightening us as to the splendour and warmth that exists in the most innocent of phrases and sentences. A bold, profound, stunning project, this record represents the purity, minimalism and truth of great art.
Tags: charles spearin, the happiness project
Bell Orchestre – As Seen Through Windows
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In my quest to get caught up on what I’d missed in 2009 (there’s a lot), I turned back to Montreal’s fascinating Bell Orchestre. If listening to this six-piece instrumental group leads to a lot of comparisons to Arcade Fire, it’s for good reason. Bell Orchestre recorded their first record in the same studio at the same time that AF was doing the classic Funeral. And they toured with Arcade Fire in 2005, too.
As Seen Through Windows, released in March of 2009, is the band’s second full-length release. It is a dazzling piece of work, sharply integrating the qualities of each instrument while producing something entirely unique to listen to.
There’s a grand cinematic quality to Bell Orchestre, of course, but there’s also a sort of muted chaos that allows each member the opportunity to stretch and bend their instruments through the course of the compositions. They allow the strangeness to immerse them at times, but never lose sight of the bigger picture and the broader sense thatWindows truly is, above all, a record and that Bell Orchestre is one concise unit. The showiness and individuality of some other instrumental acts is absent.
Call them chamber rock or call them baroque pop, do what you will, but Bell Orchestre’s vibe lies beyond classification. Some pieces on Windows lean on a crude instrumentation, while others are so fluid and so textured that sound like rich treats filled with sweet surprises.
Amazingly, there are no synths and no fancy electro touch-ups here. The quality of the music comes entirely from the sextet. Featuring Mike Feuerstack’s lap steel guitar, Stefan Schneider’s percussion, Kaveh Nabatian’s trumpet, Pietro Amato’s French horn, Sarah Neufeld’s violin, and Richard Parry’s bass, Bell Orchestre’s approach to music is holistic. And yes, Neufeld and Parry are full-time members of the Arcade Fire.
The grand cinematic quality turns the songs into scenes, fittingly, and offers the listener a sense of the visual as much as it offers a sense of the audible.
Take the plodding calls of the aptly-titled “Elephants,” for instance. Here Bell Orchestre is concerned with producing a scene, locked in time perhaps, with the wail of elephants and the sounds of a desolate plain. It is a gorgeous moment, both musically and otherwise, and the sextet generously allows it to exist for over eight minutes.
Perhaps As Seen Through Windows is a more appropriate title to the record than Bell Orchestre lets on, as many of the compositions are observations of what can be seen rather than what can be heard. “Icicles/Bicycles,” for instance, actually manages to sound like shards of frozen water clinging to the roof before transitioning to a curious ride on two wheels through a frosty white field.
Bell Orchestre’s sense for the visual makes Windows shine, offering listeners more than just a standard listening experience. These pieces spring to life, offering colour and vibrancy alongside chills and hesitation. There’s a beautiful curiosity unfolding here and these six players do well to translate their joy and sense of discovery to each and every note.
Tags: as seen through windows, bell orchestre
Plunge – Dancing on Thin Ice
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What’s most captivating about Plunge’s Dancing on Thin Ice is just how precarious the record sounds. The New Orleans trio is certainly an unusual one, utilizing a litany of effects and sounds along with their traditional instruments to compose music that feels edgy, weird and delightfully uncertain. With this record, however, the unusual nature of the group is pushed even further out on to the, yeah, thin ice.
Featuring Mark McGrain on trombone, Tim Green on saxophones and James Singleton on bass, Plunge is one of those trios operating with style and bravado beyond all expectations. Stalwarts of the New Orleans music scene, the group’s pedigree for the unusual comes thanks to years of working with the best in the biz.
McGrain, for instance, has worked with Michael Ray, Fredy Omar and others, while Green’s impressive resume includes stints performing and recording with the likes of Peter Gabriel and Herbie Hancock. Singleton’s bass has made its way on to records by Astral Project, Juanita Brooks and more.
Steadiness is the name of the game for Singleton, as his steadfast bass fills the spaces on tracks like “Life of a Cipher” with a deliciously dark rumba. The song is a slinky one, oozing pure sensuality and strut.
Plunge’s playing is couched in that sweet and soulful tradition of New Orleans, borrowing lush and dark elements from brass bands and merchants of groove alike. Their own sound emerges clearly, however, and there’s a thick strand of originality weaving its way through this group’s magical playing. While notes of modern contemporary instrumentalists can be heard at times, these pieces all find their own truth thanks to McGrain’s brilliant and brave composition.
More than that, the songs find freedom with the dexterity and cleverness of the players. The anthemic and buoyant stride of “The Praise Singer” lets the horns break through the ice with valour and cheer, while the pensive “Missing Mozambique” takes listeners on a more challenging journey.
Creativity really kicks into high gear with the record’s boldest track, the bizarre and funky “One Man’s Machine.” Built on a cloud of electro-industrial noise, the piece reveals Plunge as a trio willing to try anything.
All in all, Dancing on Thin Ice is a wonderfully courageous and risky jazz record. It is unsafe in the best of ways and features a group in full command of their art despite operating on some fairly unsteady, complicated ground.
You can purchase Dancing on Thin Ice at the Plunge website.
Get to Know: Haberdashery
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Ha! I bet you never thought you’d hear from the Get To Know feature again, but alas here it is and I am totally stoked about the opportunity to introduce my loyal readers to some of the tremendously talented performers that make their way into my field of, erm…hearing? Audioness?
Damn.
Anywho, I couldn’t think of any better way to reboot the awesome, spectacular, stupendous, popular, and kid-friendly Get To Know feature here than with the almighty Haberdashery!!!!!
Think a little bit of Erasure and a little bit of Pet Shop Boys and a little bit of cool, sleek synth-pop. Haberdashery is that Moby-ish cat from the picture above, of course, and his name is Stephen Pearlman.
Haberdashery has been at it at the grassroots level (the REAL grassroots level, tea baggers!) since 1994 and has honed his art well.
Fans can purchase his 89 track discography on the Haberdashery website, of course, and potential fans can explore the world of Haberdashery by listening to the generous amount of samples available.
Oooh, and the best part is that he’s got some wicked sweet Christmas tracks up for the holidays!
Tags: haberdashery
Junius – The Martyrdom of a Catastrophist
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Preparation for The Martyrdom of a Catastrophist, the latest record from Boston’s Junius, began way back in 2006 when the band became acquainted with the life and theories of Immanuel Velikovsky. A Russian-born American scholar, Velikovsky argued that the earth has suffered catastrophic “close-contacts” with other planets in ancient times.
Velikovsky found evidence for these catastrophes in the geological record, pointing to the extinction of many species as an example. His theories were not accepted by the academic community, by and large, and Velikovsky spent much of his career rejected by the mainstream community.
Junius picks up on the theme of Velikovsky’s lifetime and feeds it through a post-rock filter. As influenced as the quartet may have been by the scholar and his experiences, however, The Martyrdom of a Catastrophist owes a lot more to The Cure and M83 than it does to anyone else.
Quotes from Velikovsky’s interviews and lectures are scattered throughout the record’s ten tracks, but it’s the general melancholic tone that pushes this ship into the water. Junius utilizes each tool in the post-rock toolbox to create a vibe that is both expansive and desperate, fuelling each piece of music with a strong sense of desolation and pain.
With the sense of planetary collision in mind, Junius takes to the record with force and beauty. The meeting point of the deafening and the subtle is, along with being Velikovsky’s area of concern, the core of The Martyrdom of a Catastrophist.
What sets Junius apart from the pack of post-rock patrons is the little smidge of Dark Wave that gently kisses each piece. The vocals of singer/guitarist Joseph E. Martinez lead the way, fleshing out nicely against the pointed guitars and foggy effects.
The Martyrdom of a Catastrophist builds tightly, digging in deep the last few songs with a sense of necessity and dignity. It is a logical record, one that utilizes tracks like “The Antediluvian Fire” to lay out misty foundations only to drive it all home later with the Joy Division-esque flush of “Elisheva, I Love You.”
Junius has truly constructed a record of high concept art here, right down to the murky theories of Velikovsky and the intellectual lyricism. There’s not one hint of pretentiousness, however, and that clears The Martyrdom of a Catastrophist of any ostentatiously sluggish transgressions so often committed by other genre companions.
Tags: junius, the martyrdom of a catastrophist
Dark Meat – Truce Opium
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Imagine a gaudy van filled with hippies, hurtling down a turbulent road with no brakes and a lot of mushrooms, and you might have the gist of Dark Meat. A pack of road warriors out of Georgia, with a tendency to jam oodles of sound into tight spaces.
The thing about this band of merrymaking weirdos is that it can be difficult to tell where things start and stop. The crew was initially 30 people strong before dwindling down to a mean 18-piece outfit. With the release of Truce Opium back in October of this year, it was rumoured that Dark Meat was only boasting a lean band of nine members to flog their brand of psychedelic oddity.
Believe it or not, Dark Meat began things as a Neil Young cover band and somehow collected members like a giant ball of snow rolling down a hill and collecting things like houses, horses and lawn darts. Their live shows were spectacles, as you might imagine, resembling the agitated joy of Flaming Lips and the colossal madness of Polyphonic Spree.
Jim McHugh is the ringleader of this circus of the strange, writing the songs and rigging the blissful explosives with his wacky vocals. His presence is that of a cult leader, piling his cheery band of folks into the church van and back out on to the road for another escapade.
Truce Opium benefits from a leaner band somewhat, as one can actually differentiate different instruments (sometimes) amid the ring of noise emanating from this nutty nonet.
In the end, as weird and bizarre as a band might be, their music still has to matter. In the case of Dark Meat, their import is tied up almost entirely in their bulk. It is, unfortunately, the size of the band that appears to be the biggest feature and the songs suffer as a result. They become busy quickly, losing any pace or groove to a bunch of instruments jockeying for position like sugared pre-schoolers trying to astound their parents with kazoos and recorders.
Take “No One Was There” for instance. The track assembles itself with a tight groove and McHugh’s vocals spring out nicely. The tempo is maintained for a few minutes, but the background struggles to life with sounds and bleats from instruments trying to work their way into the song. The competition to be heard soon becomes overpowering and the track loses steam.
Such is, regrettably, the case all over Truce Opium. That may be a part of the outfit’s appeal for some people, but others will most certainly put off by the mass bewilderment the band attempts to pass off. As good as some of these players might be, it’s all lost when they’re repeatedly playing over one another.
In the end, Dark Meat is probably an act better seen live than heard on record. While there’s no questioning their energy and joyfulness, the end result on Truce Opium leaves a lot to be desired.
Tags: dark meat, truce opium
Timucin Sahin Quartet – Bafa
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Guitarist Timucin Sahin fills Bafa with complex, uncompromising compositions but maintains a simple flow throughout that suggests a man passionately in love with his instrument. He plays 6-string electrics and 7-string fretless electrics, invoking a slew of inspirational sources ranging from Ornette Coleman to Eddie van Halen.
His quartet features alto saxophonist John O’Gallagher, drummer Tyshawn Sorey and bassist Thomas Morgan, uniting some of New York’s finest young musicians under one roof of contemporary jazz. The resulting sound of the Timucin Sahin Quartet is both uniquely fresh and comfortably familiar.
Sahin was born in Turkey in 1973 and made his way to Holland in 1992. There he studied jazz guitar at Hilversum and Amsterdam before studying at the Manhattan School of Music. Winning a number of prizes, including the Deloitte Jazz Award, Sahin soon became a teacher at NYU and the Amsterdam Conservatory.
In forming his quartet, Sahin picked musicians capable of meeting the high demands his elaborate compositions can put on a group. The four meet those demands with flying colours, however, and the music springs out of the speakers with enthusiasm and warmth.
Bafa cuts in with “Around B,” a searing track that shows off Sahin’s guitar work. His sound on the doubleneck is impeccable, as is his emotionally-fuelled control of his instrument. As the song screeches to a close, Sahin drills the frets with exciting force.
Other tracks allow the quartet’s other musicians a chance to shine. O’Gallagher’s sax opens “I Also Know How to Live Like Stars” with a poignant passage before letting Morgan’s bass strut a little.
O’Gallagher makes for the perfect lead companion to Sahin because he’s got the speed and ability to match some of the more high-spirited, exploratory passages. Where lesser musicians would have seemed out of place matching paces with Sahin’s guitar on pieces like the intricate “It’s Time,” O’Gallagher matches the pace and then some without losing an ounce of feeling.
With almost an hour of music, Bafa showcases Sahin in his element working with electrifying, gifted musicians. The chemistry of the players forms the foundation of this record, allowing the guitarist’s performance to soar up where it belongs.
Lisa B – The Poetry of Groove
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Funky, fresh and sexy as all hell, Lisa B’s The Poetry of Groove is an impressive collection of remixes and new pieces.
The beauty of what Lisa B (Lisa Bernstein) does is wrapped up in her seamless blending of jazz, hip-hop, soul, spoken word and popular music. Her approach to her craft is invigorating, cementing herself as an artist excited to take risks and make moves that other artists might stray from. Lisa B makes the blend work, oozing sexuality and clever cool without coming across as pompous or tacky.
The Poetry of Groove builds on her musical catalogue to date, working with records like Free Me for the Joy and What’s New, Pussycat? Tunes & Tales About Cool Cats. Featuring five remixes of her older tunes and five new tracks, it’s a mischievous and blistering compilation of work that forms the perfect vibe to warm up a cold winter’s night.
Bolstered by her pedigree as a poet, Lisa B’s command of lyricism is manifest with each piece. She is, after all, the author of two books of poetry (Anorexia and The Transparent Body) and it shows in her approach to songwriting. Lisa B paints pictures with her command of language, going beyond uncomplicated metaphors to tell entire stories with her art.
The title track is given the privilege of three separate mixes, forming the foundation for the record with its smooth grooves and slick beats. The “Jazzy Chill Mix” starts the record off with polished beats and Lisa B’s spoken word vocals. She’s alluring, venturing through various tones and moods throughout the course of the song. The “Edit of Jazzy Chill Mix” closes the record in similar fashion, while the “House Mix” packs in a danceable beat.
“Be Electric (Electronica Remix)” is a sophisticated, sleek cut that makes great use out of Lisa’s hushed, breathy tones and funky witticisms.
The remastered “Trane’s Ride (Naima)” is my favourite song on the record. It uses Coltrane’s piece to underline Lisa’s deeply seductive lyrics, creating fiery waves of sensuality and sexiness. The beat, provided by James Richard’s drum and bass programming, pulsates and vibrates in time to Lisa’s hot vocal performance.
Other cuts, like “Get the Signal” and “Virtual Kiss,” allow Lisa to do more singing. She shows off her jazz pipes, gracefully dancing through various tones and moods with delight and style.
All in all, The Poetry of Groove is a sexy and exciting collection of tunes from one of the most daring and deft performers I’ve come across in a while. Lisa B is a treat, representing what can happen when talent and a desire to try anything mingle over cool, slick beats.
Them Crooked Vultures – Them Crooked Vultures
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With the collective powers of Dave Grohl, Josh Homme and John Paul Jones, the majesty and magic of Them Crooked Vultures is unfuckwithable.
The band was first mentioned, perhaps in passing, by Grohl during a 2005 interview. Since then TCV took on a life and legend of its own, spreading to the ultimate performance at Chicago’s Metro in 2009. Now, with the release of their self-titled debut, these monsters of rock are ready, willing and able to blow your speakers apart with their brand of slick, natural, lazy rock and roll.
Homme handles vocals and guitars, lending his stoner rock flair to the project with all the desert dryness of his earlier work with Kyuss and Queens of the Stone Age. Grohl hammers the drums like only he can, fuelling the band from the skins with the energy and skill of an eager ten-year-old playing with his best friends. And Zeppelin’s Jones adds grain to TCV, delivering bass and keyboards with style and haunting bravado.
The supergroup can be an interesting concept. Most of them are generally dominated by one of the players and the sound emerges from that starting point rather than from one of holistic musicianship. In the case of Them Crooked Vultures, however, each musician brings his craft to the table and brings it hard.
Their debut record, out now, successfully uncorks the stifling desert rock of Homme and piles Grohl’s forceful playing on top before adding Jones’ fondness for adding various colours and textures. The result is an album that allows the players to build off of one another, to wrangle with one another.
“New Fang,” the record’s first single, emerges with Grohl’s drumming and builds into a slow-moving, gliding rocker. The cut guts it through a firm low-end guitar boogie, letting Homme’s vocals coast over the arrangement.
Classic rock makes plenty of appearances on the record, of course, and TCV never ceases to wear its influences on its gravy-drenched sleeves. Check out the homage to The Doors on “Warsaw or the First Breath You Take After You Give Up” or the Ledded “Reptiles” for more.
The homage heaven continues on “Mind Eraser, No Chaser,” a riff-heavy barnburner that finds Homme proving he can blast out some solos if he has to. He reaches teasingly into his upper vocal registry, too, furthering the classic rock vibe over Jones’ keyboard solos. It’s all so totally fucking fun, isn’t it?
As a record, this works beautifully because it does what it sets out to do. As they call up the demons of classic rock immensity, Them Crooked Vultures circle the carcass of musical awesomeness waiting for the final drops to spill. Thanks to a unique, playful, respectful approach to some of classic rock’s finest, there’s going to be plenty for these three to feed on.
Tags: dave grohl, john paul jones, josh homme, them crooked vultures
