It’s been one of those days, in one of those weeks, so I apologize for the brevity of this post, but I promise to come back and take a more thorough look at Vapours, Islands‘ follow-up to Arm’s Way.  This is definitely an album I will have a lot to say about (probably next week), but for the time being I’ll let the music speak for itself.

MP3: Islands “Switched On”
Mysapce: Islands
Twitter: Islands (Nick Diamonds)

(photo: Joe Fuda)

I often wonder if I come across as favouring artists that undergo a musical reinvention, changing their sound or style, pushing the boundaries out beyond their comfort zones.  Sure those kinds of records are exciting and attention grabbers, but do they have the staying power to last longer than a breath mint?  The Boo Radleys’ Giant Steps was one of those “wow!” records, but where are they now?

There’s something to be said of the tried and true; the stalwarts, the steady-as-they-go hard working bands that build to reinventions and re-imaginings by playing, practicing, and progressing as opposed to being reworked by image consultants and marketing firms.  the band’s who play with heart as opposed to making decisions with their heads.  Cuff The Duke are just such a band, and Way Down Here is just such an album.  As EyeWeekly.com recently noted, they clearly take their country “alt.” and haven’t strayed far from the formula over their four albums, but slowly and surely, you can begin to trace the arc of development in their songwriting and sound that hints at their best is yet to come.  Produced by Blue Rodeo’s Greg Keelor, Way Down Here adds an edge to the band’s sound that suits them fine.  “Promises” gets into classic rock territory without getting too over the top, while “Another Day In Purgatory” has a fuzzy, bluesy vibe that hints at Zeppelin influences mixed with shoegaze-like droning.  The mix is heady stuff, intoxicating even.

On the surface it may not feel like much has changed at Camp Cuff, but delving further into Way Down Here reveals that the wheels are turning and the times are a-changing.  It gets better and better with every listen.

MP3: Cuff The Duke “Another Day in Purgatory”
Myspace: Cuff The Duke
Facebook: Cuff The Duke
Twitter: Cuff The Duke

(photo: Myspace.com)

Calling the opening track “Ratify the New” is one way to signal that Origin:Orphan is not the same old Hidden Cameras. “Like the death of his muse/ratify the new,” proclaims Joel Gibb, and based on the elongated droning note that prefaces the song, Gibb and company are clearly finding inspiration in new places.  “Forget what you know,” he instructs the listener, a fair warning to fans that what you’re about to experience is not what you may be expecting.  It is a thunderous and intimidating song–two descriptors I don’t think I’ve ever used to describe The Hidden Cameras before.  Where once this meek and mild-mannered orchestra pop band played with melodies and timpani, they now smolder and brood with seriousness.  Is it a cliché to say that the band has matured when they most clearly have?  This is the same Hidden Cameras that recorded a song about watersports (the bathroom variety) called “Golden Streams” is it not?

With just a cursory listen to a track like “In the NA” the answer to the above question is yes, they’re the same band, but even in that song’s up-tempo bounce beats a heart of darkness.  “NA” could just about represent anything–positive or negative–a place holder for the emotions that would fit the situation best.  So in a very surreptitious way, Gibb has let the veneer of jubilation pale and lose its luster without actually changing the basic structure of what made the Hidden Cameras so much fun before.

Which doesn’t mean that they’re not fun now, just fun in a different, more grown up way.  Kind of like how playing hide-and-go-seek when you’re an adult, drunk and in the middle of the night, is a different kind of fun than when you were a kid playing in daylight around your neighbourhood.  “Colour of a Man” reminds me a lot of “The Man That I Am With My Man” and is a perfect encapsulation of the band’s maturity.  There’s an element of having been around the block a few too many times in Gibb’s vocals, a “once bitten, twice shy” reserve that hints that a certain naivete has been lost.

In the process of all this maturing and toughening up, the presentation of The ‘Cameras music, the arrangements and orchestration, have also undergone a transformation, where bigger isn’t necessarily better (musically speaking, of course).  Restraint helps focus even the album’s weaker moments (“Do I Belong?”).  Origin:Orphan is the most consistent sounding Hidden Cameras album in their canon, in part I think because of the way Gibb has focused the sound.  “Walk On” with it’s string and horn opening assault might have turned ugly in other hands, but he uses it to create a tension and foreboding atmosphere that makes perfect sense in the context of the album.  If, like me, you were a bit put off by that song when you first heard it outside of the LP,  you’ll be pleasantly surprised at how integral and perfectly it fits alongside its brethren.

And that is what ultimately sets Origin:Orphan apart from The Hidden Cameras back catalogue.  From start to finish their is a progression and interconnectedness between the songs.  It is an album that is whole, as opposed to a collection of like-minded songs.  It looks good on them, too.

Now, who wants to get drunk and play hide-and-go-seek in the dark?  Naked.

MP3: The Hidden Cameras “In The NA”
Myspace: The Hidden Cameras
Twitter: The Hidden Cameras

(photo: James Mejia)

At a show in Toronto (more like a gala, really) on Monday night, a lot of talk centered on a certain young woman who was playing with two different acts on the 10-artist bill:  Julie Fader is a musician’s musician, a multi-instrumentalist whose skills go beyond mere interpretation of others music to making her own.  As a member of both Great Lake Swimmers and appearing with Chad VanGaalen on his soft Airplane LP, she’s had a pretty hectic and busy year.  Before that, Fader featured prominently with Sarah Harmer’s band, so she’s clearly  no slouch when it comes to the Canadian indie music scene.

It’s time for Fader to take the spotlight herself, now:  Outside In is her debut solo album, and it’s just fresh off the presses.  Fader’s friends stop by to lend her a hand:  Harmer drops by, as does Tony “GLS” Dekker; VanGaalen and Justin Rutledge make an appearance, too, while Holy Fuck’s Graham Walsh produced the whole affair.  And what an affair it is.  Outside In is the quintessential Canadian indie album: mellow without inducing sleepiness, acoustic with a sprinkling of techno-noodling, singer-songwriter style lyrics that hide more than they reveal, expansive in scope while sounding like it was recorded by a group of friends in a weekend.  It’s like she took the indie rock checklist and made sure nary a box was left unmarked, but it’s far from being formulaic and stock.

Outside In is the kind of album you swear you’ve heard somewhere else before.  Like a city that’s instantly familiar even though you have never visited it before, Outside In induces déjà vu-like in the listener as they travel down musical routes that remind you of roads previously taken, like how “Skin and Bones” reminds me of Julie Doiron.  But, where Julie F. and Julie D. differ is the path they choose to take:  where Doiron’s songs are rickety, threadbare arrangements, Fader layers her songs like warm pullovers over plaid flannel shirts.  With each new addition, the songs seem to radiate warmth and beg you to curl up with them and snuggle.  I don’t want to say she’s got a slicker sound, but it certainly sounds like production wasn’t just an afterthought on Outside In.  Walsh was spun a smooth, silken cocoon around Fader, and safe within its shell, she’s transforming into a thing of beauty.  The dreamy “Goodbye Before Hello” is the perfect showcase for her fragile, and agile vocals.  The delicate “723″ (which appeared earlier this year on the (weewerk) Records anniversary album) in a haunting duet with Tony Dekker that sounds very much like their other band, but the female lead vocals gives the acoustic instruments a strength and passion that Lost Channels seems to lack.  I’m not calling Tony Dekker a sissy, mind you, but I’m just sayin’.

I would hate for the public to dismiss this LP as being the product of Fader’s collaborations and guest performers, as opposed to being very much her own work.  Sure, she’s got an impressive list of players, but that’s telling you just how highly regarded her own talent is.  That familiarity I mentioned before?  I think it comes from the strength and conviction Fader presents in these songs.  She’s delivered a fully formed and mature sounding album, which seems to be very rare in debut albums these days.  I’m loving this one.

MP3: Julie Fader “Goodbye Before Hello”
Myspace: Julie Fader
Facebook: Julie Fader
Twitter: Julie Fader

(photo: Tom Beard)

Robbie Furze and Milo Cordell have been The Big Pink since 2007 (and best buds for much longer than that).  They’ve been generating big buzz after signing with 4AD and winning an NME Shockwave Award for best new act earlier this year, and have now released their debut album A Brief History of Love.  I know this now, after having downloaded the LP and read up on these guys a bit before starting this post, but prior to acquiring the disc, I was none the wiser about this band.

What drew me to the album was the ghostly image of a young girl on the cover, with eyes that appeared as if they were dead, set in a face and body that are most clearly alive.  It instantly reminded me of the poster for Eraserhead, the one with the equally spooky and grainy image of Jack Nance as Henry Spencer staring out at you, zombie-like, but yet with a real humanity.  I didn’t know if I ever really “got” the movie, but I did get a t-shirt with that image on it, because there was something in those eyes, some longing, yearning, something human inside a dream world.  Like being in love.  The girl on the cover has that look, too.  So when I read that Cordell calls A Brief History of Love an album that encompasses “every different aspect of love… the good, the bad, the boring, the exciting, the dreams, the nightmares, the whole thing,” the parallel with record and movie came a little closer.  There were a lot of nightmare-like elements to Eraserhead, and a lot of happier, more pleasant dream-like moments, too, but the dividing line between these two states was never very clear; the edges blurred and blended together.  I get that same feeling listening to tracks like the album’s opener, “Crystal Visions”, with its buzz-saw grind and underlying delicate melodies, or the downright infectious “Dominos”, whose lyrics hint at longing for love that doesn’t seem to exist.

There’s a hint of Glasvegas, 2008’s NME best new act winners, in the soaring ballad “A Brief History of Love”, but The Big Pink aren’t copycats: with a heavy dose of synths and electro beats, they’re just as much dance as they are dense and dark.  A Brief History of Love is the kind of grand, sweeping debut album that doesn’t come along very often, but when it does, it takes you on an emotional ride that may not always make sense, but definitely thrills you with every peak and valley.  One listen to The Big Pink, and you’ll be falling head over heels like dominos, too.

MP3: The Big Pink “Dominos”
Myspace: The Big Pink