Print Edition: February 20, 2013
Veronica Falls
Waiting For Something to Happen
Minor chords and shimmering melodies make for strong ingredients in this record of moody and nostalgic rainy day pop music. On their sophomore record, UK indie quartet Veronica Falls tighten up their cavernous jangle pop to closer resemble the output of the C86 bands who comprised Britain’s most thriving indie scene of the 1980s. The sad chorus of shared male and female harmony as lead vocal throughout provides the tracks on Waiting for Something to Happen with a haunting, roomy-quality not unlike that of Aussie popsters The Bats. Not everything on the album sticks, but lead single “Teenage” is an unerringly charming piece of guitar-driven pop with just the right balance of melancholic underpinnings. Unfortunately, much of the rest of the record has trouble meeting the indelible quality of this one standout track. In particular, the early tracks are a little weak, especially album opener “Tell Me” which plods forward minus the energy or propulsive drumming of the following tracks. The melodies are precise and bittersweet, and the guitar lines are more than serviceable, but Veronica Falls struggle to take things much further than that. As “Teenage” suggests, this is a band that could acquit itself much better and do on occasion, such as “Everybody’s Changing,” “My Heart Beats” or the title track.
Grouper
The Man Who Died in His Boat
A long exhale extended by tape delay, backed by surrounding winds, fronted by guitars that issue like from a half-submerged secret hollow, Grouper (Liz Harris)’s The Man Who Died in His Boat contains maybe a hundred lyrics and a less countable number of pauses. These accreting moments mean while an individual track could exist as an abruptly quiet way between random song selection or a bridge between silences (despite the constant noise, so much of this album seems to be absence), The Man Who Died in His Boat as a whole is a slow passage of serenity, one matching its barely-understood voices that suggest otherwise, an entire period of circling around slumber. When any warped words come through the lo-fi hiss and recording and sound to add an air of suggestion (and it is always a suggestion, a vocalization, a sound, chosen over limitations of meaning) to the downcast atmosphere (though next to something like Waxahatchee’s tonally/temporally similar American Weekend, its lack of comment speaks positive), they are buoyed by instrument, allowed to trail off, saved for the end (“looking for the place the spirit meets the skin”) where repetition of common questions doesn’t intimate a certain age, but state.
k-os
BLack on BLonde
Mention k-os to anyone living outside of Canada and they’ll doubtless stare blankly back. k-os has no shortage of acclaim north of the 49th parallel, achieving a platinum record and multiple Juno Awards for his breakout Joyful Rebellion. So why hasn’t that reputation travelled south? The answer is in the name, because his music is chaotic. His artistic vision tends to always be a few steps ahead of the listener’s expectations, which is where BLack on BLonde comes in. The double album produces the kind of duality we’ve come to expect from k-os, with the BLack side driven by hip-hop and pop trends, while the BLonde side is influenced primarily by rock and roll. A sample of Neil Young & Crazy Horse on the mesmerizing “Play This Game” and homage to the Beatles on “Wonder Woman (As My Guitar Gently Streets)” demonstrates k-os’ ability to produce an eclectic style all his own. This ambitious project is not without its faults and overzealous concepts, like the lacklustre “Alone In My Car” or repulsive opener “Like a Comet (We Rollin’)” featuring ‘80s heartthrob Corey Hart on vocals. Unfortunately, BLack on BLonde features some of the most awful aspects of both rock and hip-hop, with only a choice few songs standing alongside k-os’ best work.
Right Away, Great Captain!
The Church of the Good Thief
Right Away, Great Captain!’s third release is a place of sorrow and pain. But it’s also the final act in Andy Hull’s stunning solo project that has told the story of a sailor from the 17 century whom had come to discover an affair between his wife and brother. Remarkably, this has been voiced so beautifully that the album is hard to let go and accept that Hull has brought it to a close. It’s raw and bare and drawn out by only a few distinct instruments, particularly the guitar and Hull’s own distinctly sounding heavy, yet fragile, voice. The album opens with two tracks, “Blame” and “When I Met Death” that instantly pull you in through their strong hooks. In fact the first half of the album progresses this way. It’s half way through when “Barely Bit Me” hits that the album comes to a denser, clinched, atmosphere. At first it can be difficult to reconcile the seemingly two incongruent qualities, but it’s in Hull’s lyrics that you begin to follow more closely. You finally see the despair that Hull’s character has come to. It’s the end of an amazing story crafted by absolutely steller songwriting.
