By Nick Ubels (The Cascade) – Email
Print Edition: March 13, 2013
Music sometimes has this way of capturing a sense of place in a way that a hastily-snapped photograph or postcard never can. There are certain bands that, for better or worse, are so immersed in their surroundings that their music becomes synonymous with the place they come from. The Replacements were Minnesota, Girls were San Francisco.
And Sunshine are Vancouver.
Sunshine attack those long, wet Vancouver nights with as much dream-like fervour as their name suggests. There’s an unmistakable sense of belonging in their music, a wide-open embrace of the gambit of sounds that make up the Vancouver music scene: from jangle pop instincts to dance-ready synthesizers and driving, unhinged guitar rock alike. Lingering in the fuzzed out, soft-hearted shadows of another neon block, it’s hard not to associate Sunshine with scenes of their hometown on a typical weekend. Or if you were at The Astoria for last week’s album release party, maybe it’s a Wednesday.
Opening their self-titled debut is the effervescent pop gem “Showering With Wine.” Our introduction to Sunshine comes in the form of cascading drums and a woozy guitar riff split open by a lightning crack of a snare. “Showering With Wine” is one of the album’s most propulsive, hook-laden tracks and crystallizes a lot of the best elements of their eponymous digital release. The song writing feels effortless, not just agreeable. The way that the pre-chorus descends with each chord change, bubbling over into the chorus with one final, unexpected change is remarkable for its casual complexity.
The five-piece outfit combines the driving, but sensitive guitar pop of The Pains of Being Pure At Heart with the sparkling cavern atmospherics of the Raveonettes or Big Troubles. Influences are worn proudly, but they don’t overshadow the strength of Sunshine’s original material, which has a voice that strongly reflects its origins.
Sunshine’s local flavour is strong, particularly evident in the album’s lyrics. “Ice Cream Social” is a softly-sung ode to the nostalgic Monday night dance party of the same name that once filled the now-defunct Waldorf hotel.
If place is something Sunshine excels in capturing, time is something wilfully obscured.
While the meticulously well-composed guitar work rises to the fore, Sunshine’s versatile rhythm section backs up the album’s best tracks. “Ice Cream Social” is propelled by the raucous fills that usher in the chorus. Likewise for the jolty tom riff behind “Two Hundred Grand” or the fantastically-titled “Sundays Are For Cats.” The rock-steady bass complements and anchors the roomy and whispered vocals, delicate synths and hazy guitar lines.
“French Exit,” a summery duet featuring the soaring guest vocals of Louise Burns, is one of the album’s highest points. “Arnprior’s” marriage of glam rock guitars and glittering synths is, unexpectedly, a match made in heaven.
Unfortunately, the album is front-loaded, with the underwhelming and overlong pairing of “Shanghaied” and “The Tyler Rose” leading up to the album’s warm and kaleidoscopic gospel elegy of a closer, “Wet Thank Yous.”
Sunshine’s debut record is a rare instance of a band emerging fully-formed and realized. While not every solo note or hook rings true, this is a band that knows exactly what, and where, they are about.
