March 2004

CONTROLLER.CONTROLLER

THE DESERT FATHERS

JUNIOR BLUE

THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING

Originally bluffed into thinking these guys would be total shit by the wacky press release that came with the album, I wasn’t ready. Throw John Fahey, Donovan, The Byrds, Xinli supreme, John Zorn, Iran, Faust, Derek Bailey, Brainiac, Smog, Coltrane, Ornette Coleman, Django Reinhardt and Pelt into a blender and see what comes out. Fucked if I know. I just know that it kicks it seriously and keeps kicking it through its 23 traxx and 60 minutes of music. Moving from delicate finger-picked acoustic send-offs to found sound, harsh noise and spoken word, I really can’t figure this out, and that bugs me, but I can get past it because this is solid. The political bent of the lyrics grates at times and their mission statement (“Amps for Christ are for Christ, just not for the Christ that is presented to us in the media”) irks a little, but I can forgive that. This music is, at its core, unexpected — I mean, there are beautifully played jazz-folk numbers up next to vocodo distorto voice-modulated tone poems and spoken-word pieces that would come off as pretentious if not so downright sincere — so unexpected that I get a little something different out of every listen. Amps for Christ, I salute you. — AG
File next to: Spirituals, Brother JT 3, and religious music that isn’t necessarily religious but you like to think it is anyway, because, hey, listening to religious music is pretty cool. You know? Or maybe that’s just me...

CAMERA OBSCURA
Underachievers Please Try Harder
(Merge; www.camera-obscura.net)

Sure, they sound like that other pop outfit from Glasgow, Scotland, that band who are both heralded and reviled by the hipster cognoscenti. But I’ll be damned if these guys aren’t just as good. In some ways they are more classic than their B&S confrères. Pop songs are hard things to do well, but these guys excel at it. Managing to distil the best elements of classic ’60s vocal pop songs that we all know and love, these guys manage to make them their own. There are some red herrings here though with the distinctly Leonard Cohen-esque track “Your Picture” seeming to be an unfortunate placement in the line-up. Better to stick it at the end and put the emphasis on the self-deprecating and sweet voice of Tracey-Anne Campbell, the true star of this disc. Pyjama rock for the morning after the school dance or your next break-up. — SV
File next to: Petula Clark, The Beach Boys, Belle and Sebastian, songs from the cottage transistor radio.

CO-ED/POLLEN
A Split Recording
(Cool Guy, PO Box 2361, Santa Fe Springs, CA 90670)

Trying to find any information on a band called “Co-Ed” on the great invention of our time which is the World Wide Web. Damn near impossible, it is. After a mysterious MP3 titled “Going, Going, Gone” somehow ended up on my hard drive several years ago, I became fascinated by this baffling group. Who were they? Why had I not heard of them before? Why did they pick such a terrible, terrible name? “Going, Going, Gone” became a staple of my mix CDs, a song that all of my friends were to be exposed to. And it only existed in the nebulous folders of my C drive; until one fateful day. While browsing in HMV (HMV! Of all places!), I saw something out of the corner of my eye. A word, in the midst of a sea of words. A hyphenated word. The word: Co-Ed. Why was this CD here? Why was it so inexpensive? Why was I not buying it right now? So I bought it. Ecstatic, I brought it home. I revelled in the glory of legally listening to the song whose very existence had mystified me mere days prior. Was the rest of the disc any good? Who cares? — SS
File next to: A collection of obsolete mix CDs.

CONTROLLER.CONTROLLER
History
(Paper Bag, www.paperbagrecords.com)

It’s just a matter of time before we start hearing controller.controller alongside Evanescence and Sum41 on mainstream radio. Seriously, this disc is very well-produced, and the hooks and bites are perfect for a mainstream audience. I’ve been listening to it since I got it and I haven’t thought “Wow, this is amazing,” but I also haven’t stopped bobbing my head and swinging my hips. It’s good, albeit somewhat fluffy, disco rock. Sometimes the guitars complement each other but sometimes they cancel each other out, relegating themselves to just a tune. The drum kicks don’t let up, and the vocals add the personality needed to keep the sound above mediocrity. If you’ve ever seen the live show, you know exactly what to expect. It all translates well. I will get tired of this eventually, I’m sure, but I’ll come back to it every so often. — RM
File next to: The mighty crossover.

THE DAYBREAK
Everything In-Between (Pure Violet; www.thedaybreak.net)

The Daybreak’s debut five-song EP would be a decent demo, showcasing their big, crunchy, dreamy sound and heavy British influences. Unfortunately, the studio tracks suffer from muddled production and the live tracks remind me of bootlegs I traded with Internet friends on Maxell Type II Gold cassettes. Hopefully, these guys can go into the studio next time with a budget that matches their ambitions and potential. — SB
File next to: The Music, Pilate

THE DESERT FATHERS
The Spirituality (Threespheres, www.threespheres.com)

Smart-dude-rock returns from the brink of oblivion! I’m glad bands like The Desert Fathers exist, because they are unabashedly nerdy without getting aggressively geek-chic about it. And also because they validate my longstanding rant that the My Bloody Valentine “effect” came not from a pedal but the physical abuse of the guitar’s tremolo arm. These New York boys find the link between that technique and the bendy lines of oddly-long-forgotten early ’90s Yanks like Polvo and the Swirlies, while depositing it all in the general framework of Zappa-loving music-school eccentro-rock guy-dom. Plus delightfully honest Steve Albini production! The liner notes contain a long tract entitled “The Paradise of The Desert Fathers,” which I am afraid to read because I fear it will contaminate my mojo and I will end up staying at home on Saturday nights reading Frank Herbert’s Dune books. Oh shit, wait a second! — JD
File next to: Shai-Hulud (the sandworm, not the grindcore band), the eternal renewal of guitar-rock-with-ideas, the hyphen.

JON-RAE FLETCHER AND THE RIVER
s/t (Hive-Fi, www.hivestudios.net)

On this record, the third release from Jon-Rae, he has teamed up with eight other musicians to create what some would consider one of the best releases of last year. Recorded in a studio, unlike past releases, Jon-Rae takes you on a journey with escalating folk ballads, alternative country rock-outs and gospel sing-alongs. One minute he’s taking you deep into his heart singing, “A lover’s love is like a dying dove ‘cause beauty don’t last forever,” while the next minute he vows, “I’ll take you to a place where your worried heart may go,” almost like he is a saviour coming to confess the truth he’s seen, and let you know that everything is really going to be ok. — RT
File next to: Palace, Royal City and a summer sunset.

FOG
Hummer (Ninja Tune, www.ninjatune.net)

The new EP from Fog is what is to be expected after Ether Teeth, his last full-length, and especially after the first Hymie’s Basement LP, which featured Andrew Broder collaborating with Yoni Wolf, alias Why?, from notorious fucked-up rap group cLOUDDEAD. Andrew Broder is alias Fog, in case you weren’t with us on that. Hummer treads the line between annoying (“I, Baby,” whose sickening lines are blotted by the excellent turntable work), and beautiful (the title track — cut-up choral voices overtop mesmerizing harmonizing). What I predict the next Fog LP to be: something on par with The Books’ stunning debut, or perhaps, the folk answer to cLOUDDEAD’s skewered hip-hop — either way, this EP is for completists, not beginners, who are best off starting with the stunning Ether Teeth, an album whose title track inspired tears in this jaded critic motherfucker. Anyway, get into Fog; it is better for you. — AG
File next to: Reverent turntable music that is also patchy folk, like maybe The Books, but less complex and computer/sample driven.

HELLA
The Devil Isn’t Red (5RC, www.5rc.com)

But if it isn’t one of my favourite bands of the 21st Century, making the Liars look as weak as they are and filling in the shoes for Don Caballero now that Damon Che has “reunited” the band without the foil that made the music so tense in the first place. Not that this is a review about Ian Williams or Damon Che or even Don Cab. It’s just that the reference point is obvious. Guitar, seriously played. Drums, fucking goddamn seriously played, like nothing else ever, and then sequenced bits of noise thrown in. Like the band took their last two EPs and debut Hold Your Horse Is and mashed them together to come up with this, which is above all a groove record, setting itself apart from Spencer Seim’s spidery guitar lines of the past and replacing them with abrasive, meaty chords that would’ve fit well on one of the in-betweeners, while keeping Zach Hill’s drumming nimble but somehow more aggressive, as if having to work with a drum machine on the last EP just pissed him off so much that he had to get himself worked out on this. — AG
File next to: Lightning Bolt, Don Caballero, and your brain getting kicked in with crazy drum action.

INTERSTELLAR
ToSleepToDreamToWake (Plan Eleven; www.interstellar.ca)

Ladies and gentlemen, we are floating in space. Toronto duo Interstellar’s new disc is superb. Comprised of Rob Boak (formerly of Speed Orchid, Mean Red Spiders) and Denis Dufour, this band’s release is a sublime mix of multiple instrumentals and lovely spacey ambience. It’s not all Martian muzak though, with two breezy vocal tracks featuring former Spiders bandmate Lisa Nighswander. This release definitely pays back upon repeated listens, and its dreamy character is something to be simply admired and become enveloped in. These guys are quite obviously in tune with each other’s rich musical talents (they often make songs out of jams). Their seemingly effortless playing and twilight vibe here makes this release a true treat. Definitely worth your time. Be sure to catch them live for some sweet ear-candy. — SV
File next to: American Analog Set, Air, Eno, The Orb.

JUNIOR BLUE
In The Search of Solid Gold
(Dependent, www.dependentmusic.com)

This disc takes you on a journey back in time to the year 2001, when future Broken Social Scenester Justin Peroff a.k.a. Junior Pandé, and soon-to-be By Divine Righter Dylan Hudecki, a.k.a. Blue Jeans, spent four months of four-tracking and editing at home, then another four “casual but long” months in seclusion at Dave Newfeld’s Stars and Suns studio in Chinatown, where the spliffs were doubtlessly passed in every conceivable direction. Joined by numerous guest stars including the usual suspects plus those who don’t crop up enough, including Chris Mills (Just Like The Movies) and Stella Panacci (Kat Rocket, Stella Luna), Junior and Blue assembled a surprisingly smooth mélange of psych drone jams, found-sound tape fuckery and general let’s-see-what-happens abandon. Solid Gold’s historical impact is difficult to assess and may in fact be negligible, but history also doesn’t seem to care who’s having fun. — JD
File next to: “Dude, you should totally come down to the studio and jam,” “Uh... tape’s rolling!”

THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING
Total Eclipse of the Heart (Brilliante, www.brilliante.tv)

Bobby Burg is the best. He’s this wide-eyed, overgrown child who blurts out the most hilarious non-sequiturs, such as suggesting Canada-U.S. relations could be improved by paving over the Great Lakes. Yet there’s a mischief behind his innocence that suggests the whole outsider-artist persona is just a sly prank. If this reads more like a Friendster™ testimonial than a record review, that’s OK, because The Love of Everything’s new Bonnie Tyler-inspired disc reflects the Chicagoan singer/songwriter’s personality. His indie-pop tunage is usually heartfelt and delicate, and even at its most “standard” it’s still pretty affecting. But at its best, it undermines its sentimental-slacker-rock with free-improv trickery, like on the standout track “My Hero’s Are Lacy” (sic), which features the oddly memorable lead-off line, “you get fed all these objects in bed.” — JD
File next to: Pavement vs. Les Mouches, the Midwestern sense of humour.

NUMBERS
In My Mind All The Time (Tigerbeat6, www.tigerbeat6.com)

OHMIGOD! It’s a new Numbers record!!! Okay, okay, relax, Jonny. First of all, let’s get things in perspective and get the tough truth out of the way: album number two is nowhere near as heart-racingly catchy as Numbers’ Life. But who cares? There are few bands anywhere as exciting as San Francisco’s finest, a band whose music provokes insanely physical reactions in their fans: the eyes widen, the nerves tighten, the ass shakes furiously... it’s like that. These guys have it all — the best bits of Devo, Gang of Four, Kraftwerk and The Slits distilled into tiny, fat-free bursts of excitability. Here their yuppie-baiting is all the more hilarious, as it seems to turn in on itself. When Indra nervously declares, “from the air I breathe/ I could get a disease,” you laugh harder when you realize she might not be taking the piss. — JD
File next to: The fictional textbook, Humans As Automatons: Dystopia... Or Utopia?

POLYSICS
Neu (Asian Man, www.asianmanrecords.com)

It looks, sounds and smells like Devo. But it’s actually five dudes with five great albums who are quite happy to keep most of them safe at home in Japan. Only Neu escaped (it’s album number two). It’s a pretty crazy ride, if a little homogenous, but I find myself listening to it all the time, like, every day. Which is more than I can say for Devo. — JB
File next to: Cooking shows and exercise.

SKULLFLOWER
Exquisite Fucking Boredom (tUMULt, www.tumult.net)

The perfect music for the late-night downs trip? Quite possibly. I’ve listened to this album a bunch of times and even though it’s a single chord played for 50 minutes straight, (with various variations, etc.) it is probably one of the best sludgy drug-trip albums I’ve heard. Maybe they weren’t intending it, but I’ve found myself fucked-up on Valiums, listening to this and staring at a wall, and when you’re like that you can hear the smallest variations in the sound, and this album has so much going on within it that it’s impossible to figure it out from first listen. It will probably turn a lot of people off because the title can be pretty accurate when you’re not giving it a close listen, and it slips into monotony if it’s in the foreground and you don’t care, but this is great. Like a Faust album (certain songs I’m thinking of specifically here, and obviously not stuff like The Faust Tapes) or Neu! if they kept it up for an hour while keeping it down. Let’s just say it’s Krautrock as envisioned by sludge metal, and that it’s great, and leave it at that. — AG
File next to: Extreme repetition done extremely well.

SONS AND DAUGHTERS
Love The Cup
(Ba Da Bing, www.sonsanddaughtersloveyou.co.uk)

Scottish folk songs have always had a place in Americana music. Indeed, a lot of Kentucky bluegrass owes a debt to traditional Scottish songs in musical history. So it’s also no surprise that American country and western songs would eventually resonate with young Scottish bands. Here is a release that shows that connection. This band made up of touring and recording members of Arab Strap are here to testify. They’ve managed to combine both the raw and gritty, fire ‘n’ brimstone nature of country with that garage-y sound that other Brits like Holly Golightly do so well. The barn-burner “Johnny Cash” pays a suitable stylistic tribute to the Man in Black, as does the moving track “Blood.” Life, death, love, guilt, redemption, murder, even mandolin rockin’ — they’re all here. I can’t wait to see these guys in a live setting, because that must be a party. — SV
File next to: The Sadies, Sixteen Horsepower, Bettie Serveert as a country band.

SUFJAN STEVENS
Seven Swans
(Soundsfamilyre/Asthmatic Kitty, www.soundsfamilyre.com)

Sufjan Stevens has set out to record an album for each state. Well, to be accurate, Rhode Island will (charmingly) be a seven-inch. Seven Swans, his fourth full-length, was recorded prior to the release of his first state-themed album, Michigan. You know when you love a record and it resonates with you in different ways on different notes and lines each time you listen to it? Michigan was that kind of album for me. It made me terrified to listen to Seven Swans. What if I didn’t like it? Thankfully, I don’t need to contemplate any further. Seven Swans is not only a stunning album that continues to show Sufjan as an amazing and honest songwriter, but as someone who has a crystal vision in terms of production and arrangements. Achingly beautiful and cinematic, he’s come a long way since his first Wavelength show in March of 2001, which six of us, including the soundperson, caught. — LM
File next to: I’d never heard the Elliott Smith comparisons until now, or Great Lake Swimmers.

VARIOUS ARTISTS
Hot Hands: A Tribute to Throwing Muses and Kristen Hersh (Kuma-Chan, www.kuma-chan.com)

Who would’ve thought Throwing Muses deserved a tribute album? None of these artists. Apparently, looking K. Hersh up on guitartab.com two hours before deadline is the same as being a fan. The entire album is a mess of terrible beats and cheap reverb. The Blood Group’s offering is particularly weak; even lovely local Quasimojo fails to enliven “Listerine.” And I wanted! I wanted someone to make me descend back into nostalgic teen gothdom. Oh well. The only standouts here are Paul Durham’s stately version of “Your Ghost” — easily Hersh’s best song ever — and, of course, Xiu Xiu’s rendition of “Juno.” But this compilation won’t satisfy old fans or interest new ones. — JB
File next to: Your embarrassing old teenage journals you should probably throw out.

VARIOUS ARTISTS
Vice CD, Volume 11, Number 1
(55DSL; vice-recordings.com)

A fucking free magazine isn’t enough for those Vice fuckers, so they go and make some half-assed attempt at a comp CD, and guess what? It doesn’t cost a motherfucking cent, either. There’s even some decent shit on it. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of The Fiery Furnaces. You have? Good for you. Now you can stop reading this review. As for the rest of you indie shits, you’re probably wondering whether this CD will help you get laid or not. (What else are those fucking ripped jeans and aviator shades for? It’s fucking winter!) Vice puts the moves on, though, with ultra-sexy songs by The Unicorns, Pretty Girls Make Graves, The Fever, and Panthers, plus a really fucking smooth tune by this dude called Madvillain. And then I was like, “What the fuck is fucking Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and RZA doing on this fucking comp?” Free doesn’t mean no one will notice filler, you assholes! — SK
File next to: Self-referential bullshit.

THE WALKMEN
Bows & Arrows
(Record Collection, www.recordcollectionmusic.com)

So they’ve been to Toronto thrice now and I’ve seen them once, missing what were probably great shows because I was either away or cooped up in my room doing nothing, and I go and buy this record to check it because the hype is huge and I’ve liked everything they’ve done up until this point, and it completely kills. Kills. Half the time sounding like their namesake (or what I’d imagine an approximation thereof would be) — tinny, distant and jarring, and the other half of the time coming across as sensitive party-haters with a knack for intriguing imagery. Yeah. Like in “138th Street,” or the very pretty “New Year’s Eve” (a consummate party-hater ballad). These hit like heartfelt bullets and if I’m listening on my headphones, set the mood. Then there’s the other side of the band that enjoys the vitriol and anger and frustration that are all part of the party-hater, and even though it’s jarring this album still comes on like a bomb and keeps it fresh and clean. — AG
File next to: Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson rocking out in the garage.

ANDREW WK
The Opera House, February 18 (www.awkworld.com)

Before the guy even gets onstage, the whole lower level has been reduced to a sweaty, smelly pile of elbows, punches and kicks, and you really can’t help but take the beatings with a smile. It’s like one of those riots when the team wins the big game, where you’re so happy that you have to fucking break something, or someone. All in all, an Andrew WK show is like a cathartic experience for dudes with pent-up aggression. Where else would it be appropriate to respond to a song about proclaiming your love for a beautiful girl by punching the nearest stranger? — SB
File next to: “I only beat you because I love you.”

AG = ANTHONY GERACE, SV = STEVEN VENN, SS = SAM SUTHERLAND, RM = RYAN MCLAREN, SB = SHAUNNA BEDNAREK, JD = JONNY DOVERCOURT, LM = LISA MORAN, JB = JAM BUTTY, SK = SARAH KOLASKY

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