Happy Friday! I’ve had a day full
of chores, and I’m feeling a bit knackered. I also had some fun though, buying
some new music for my collection (and eventual review), watching some Wimbledon
and eating lunch at my favourite taco joint. Life is good.
Disc 886 is….My Dear Little Angle
Artist: The
Smalls
Year of Release: 1999
What’s up with the Cover? A drawing of what I assume are
cultists heralding the rise of Rlyeh. Or just a bunch of people in robes. The
art is by someone named Ursus from Vancouver and the CD booklet is full of more
of his art, all of which I really like. Most of the other paintings are of
people in elegant clothing sitting or standing near chairs. It’s better than it
sounds.
The
cover also features the Smalls’ logo, which is one of the worst band logos
ever, and a big reason why I own this album. Speaking of which…
How I Came To Know It: A couple years ago I went to a
Smalls reunion concert (I think my friend Cat put me on to them – hearing Corb
Lund was their bassist made it easier). I was chilling at the merch table and
didn’t like any of the t-shirts (they all had the aforementioned logo) so on
the advice of some drunken fans I bought not one, but all four Smalls albums.
Speaking of which…
How It Stacks Up: I have four Smalls albums, which is all of
them. Of the four, “My Dear Little Angle” is tied for second with their
self-titled album.
Ratings: 3 stars but almost 4
The
Smalls is one of those bands with a small but dedicated following, even years
after they disbanded. “My Dear Little Angle” is the last record they would
make, and it is a strong exit.
The Smalls
are a hard rockin’ band characterized by driving guitar riffs and the haunting
and tortured vocals of Mike Caldwell. All their albums have a Seattle grunge
feel to them, but with a much more stripped down punk edge.
While
possessing all these qualities, “My Dear Little Angle” also has the most range
of any Smalls album, and even has a few country touches around the edges. This
isn’t surprising since by 1999 bassist Corb Lund already had one foot firmly in
that world, and was fixing to complete the transition (country artists “fix” to
do things). In fact, one of the tracks on the album is “My Saddle Horse Has Died” which Lund would go on to countrify for
his 2007 album “Horse Soldier! Horse Soldier!”
The
album starts off with furious power with the title track, a swampy song that
chugs along with a brooding intensity that is hard to resist. I didn’t bother,
and when it came on I found my head bobbing uncontrollably, regardless of how
many people were watching. This is music that comes from the balls, and also grabs
you by them.
The
power keeps coming with “Murdering Me”
which is more Seattle grunge sound, a little more slightly than the title
track, but still tracking muddy boot prints across the inside of your skull. Caldwell’s
accusatory vocals as he demands to know “why
are you murdering me?” feels threatening and pleading in equal measure.
For the
most part all the songs on the record are mood pieces, designed to get into
your spine and make you thrash about, with lyrics that are secondary to the
tone the music sets in your heart. Is it all a bit oppressive? Yes,
delightfully so.
There
are other influences on the album as well. “VCR”
is a bluesy number that was reminiscent of the Tragically Hip and the band even
does a cover of Aretha Franklin’s “Natural
Woman” without a hint of irony or humour. A lot of earlier Smalls albums
are pure rock experiences, and I enjoyed how “My Dear Little Angle” branched
out, and yet never felt disjointed.
The album
has two strong tracks near the end, with the angry and self-destructive “Tell Us About It” and a weird sixties
guitar track crossed with a country song on “What I Need.” Both tracks are innovative and fun to listen to, and
would have been a fine end to the record.
In fact,
given all these good tracks, stylistic range and the superior production, this
record should have put it solidly as the band’s second best album if it weren’t
for one cardinal sin; the dead air track.
The
final track on the album is “Ride On
Through,” a meandering jazz track that fades out after three minutes, then
has 18 minutes of dead air, followed by a stoner version of “My Saddle Horse Has Died” and then a
sped up version of the title track that sounds like a 33 album played on 45.
That kind of shit is fun to do at home when you’re 8 years old, but it doesn’t
belong on a record.
I
listened to all 18 minutes just so I could get good and angry, and boy did I
get angry. Enough to knock this otherwise excellent record down to three stars.
It is still worth owning, but if you haven’t made some weird promise on a blog
to give it a full listen, do yourself a favour and turn it off after track 13.
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