CD Odyssey Disc 1143: David Francey

Last weekend I cleaned out those kitchen drawers that slowly accumulate clutter that has nothing to do with a functioning kitchen. Most of the stuff ended up in the trash, but I found two old ticket stubs from 1991. One was for Colin James playing the Powell River Complex in May ($21.60). I would have been home for the summer working between university terms back then. The other one was for Loreena McKennitt at the University Centre ($13) in November.

I remember the McKennitt show as one of my top three concerts of all time. I cried when she played Bonnie Portmore. This likely did not score points with my date, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t cry at Colin James, which was a largely forgettable show. I went because entertainment options in Powell River were limited.

Disc 1143 is… Skating Rink

Artist: David Francey

Year of Release: 2003

What’s up with the Cover? Did I mention this guy is Canadian?

How I Came To Know It: I read an article about him in the magazine Penguin Egg about three months ago. Then I went and checked out his music.

How It Stacks Up:  I have fallen for David Francey hard, going from “who’s he?” to “I must have all his music!” in a few short weeks. So far I have seven of his albums with three more on my “to get” list. Because of my reckless and indiscriminate dive into his collection I have no idea which one is best at this point, but “Skating Rink” is very good. I’ll go with third for now and reserve the right to modify it up or down as I give the others the same time I gave this one.

Ratings: 4 stars

I don’t know how I went so long not knowing David Francey. Call it an unhappy lack of judgment I’ve since recovered from. “Skating Rink” is another great record by him; heartfelt, honest and so casually beautiful you’d think he did it by accident.

While he may not have the same historical pedigree as Stan Rogers or Gordon Lightfoot, Francey is every bit their equal and belongs in any conversation with them about Canada’s great folk singer-songwriters. He is that good.

Francey doesn’t have a massive range but his tone is rich and his phrasing is second to none. He also has a delightful touch of the Scottish brogue of his birthplace (Francey came to Canada at age 12). I don’t know how that didn’t wear off years ago, but I’m glad it’s there.

The guitar work is also beautiful. It is characterized by a heavy hand that isn’t afraid to make those strings speak their truths, yet never feels overbearing. It feels insistent. Francey’s got something important to say, and that guitar is determined to punctuate the sermon.

Francey writes within the traditional musical structures of traditional folk music, but it never feels dated or derivative. Instead, it feels timeless, holding you in a gentle sway like the sea and letting you drift into a daydream into which Francey pours his tales.

Francey got a very late start in the music business – he worked in blue collar jobs until he switched to singing full time at the age of 45. He benefits from the maturity of all that experience, and you can feel the weight of years on him. It doesn’t weigh him down though; it gives him depth and substance.

There are plenty of love songs on “Skating Rink” many of them that approach hoke territory, but never cross over. The best of these is “Broken Glass” which captures what it feels like when new love leaves you fragile and breathless. As Francey sings it:

“When you hear a sound like broken glass

That’s my heart every time that girl walks past

When you hear a sound like the rush of wind

It’s just me catching my breath again.”

Francey is the master of capturing a moment in time, instilling it with import and lasting substance. On “Skating Rink” he captures the excitement of youth “laughing in the face of the darkness at the lonely heart of winter”. On “Streets of Calgary” he captures the bravado of a street walker as she propositions him “in a voice as hard as nails you sighed ‘Do you want some company?’” It’s sad and tough in equal proportion.

On “Midway” the guitar’s insistent bass note rings, surrounded by the twinkle of lighter strings, capture the lights at the local amusement park as they flare out, the sun comes up and the season prepares to end. This song has just as much world-weary wonder and romance as Mark Knopfler or Bruce Springsteen managed with the same topic.

The guitar solo that serves as the bridge of this song is sublime and the song sends you on your way with a wan and wistful verse…

“Down on the midway, down on the midway

Night turns into day, down at the fair

Young girls in a house of mirrors

Combing their hair

Rag end of summer hangs

Up in the air.”

“Midway” is the seasonal exception on the record though, and for the most part it was a little odd hearing so many winter-themed songs as I walked home on a warm spring evening. Fortunately the themes are so intimate it felt like I was experiencing them wrapped in a warm blanket.

Sun or snow was ultimately irrelevant, though. No matter what cares I had over the past three days, every time I pushed play on “Skating Rink” it immediately grabbed my attention, sending me into a musical reverie that connected me to the music, my country and to humanity in general. I’m looking forward to rolling my next David Francey album, but at least I’ll have “Skating Rink” to keep me warm while I wait.

Best tracks: Broken Glass, Midway, Belgrade Train, Streets of Calgary, Annie’s House, Nearly Midnight

CD Odyssey Disc 1142: Timbuk3

After a lot of hectic weekends I am in the middle of a very quiet one and it is exactly what I needed. I just got back from a relaxed brunch and now I’m going to write a music review. Maybe then I’ll take a nap.

Disc 1142 is… Greetings from Timbuk3

Artist: Timbuk3

Year of Release: 1986

What’s up with the Cover? I hadn’t expected quite so much air in the Air B&B and cleaning up after the donkey every day was less than pleasant, but at least it had cable.

How I Came To Know It: I came at this album in two ways. Back in the early nineties I was looking to buy “Eden Alley” (reviewed back at Disc 814) but it wasn’t available. This album was and although I didn’t know it, I knew the single “The Future’s So Bright I Gotta Wear Shades”. I remember liking that song in high school, so I took a chance on the rest of the album.

How It Stacks Up:  I have since acquired “Eden Alley” and now have two Timbuk 3 albums. “Greetings from Timbuk3” is the weaker of the two.

Ratings: 2 stars

“The Future’s So Bright I Gotta Wear Shades” ended up being an ironic hit for New Wave pop band Timbuk3. Over the ten years that followed they’d only crack the top fifty twice and the top twenty? Never again.

“Greetings from…” is Timbuk3’s first album, which for some bands represents the high water mark of their artistic career. In the case of Timbuk3 it feels like a record from a band still trying to find its feet.

There are lots of good ideas here, with some interesting syncopation and clever observations, mostly about fairly mundane things. Haircuts, house pets and watching TV feature prominently. Timbuk3’s intent is clear – employ boring subjects into social commentary about the world. They are trying to twist eighties consumerism (already suffering its inevitable backlash in 1986) and repurpose it to something meaningful.

Unfortunately, the metaphors feel strained. They’re trying to play off emptiness of the imagery, but instead the emptiness overtakes them. It doesn’t help that the album’s production is tinny and artificial. Part of that artificiality is deliberate, but this album needed a little bit more punch in the low end of the mix to make it work. Drum machines are bad enough, without taking away what little boom they have.

Timbuk3 is husband and wife team Pat and Barbara McDonald. Both sing (often in harmony) but neither has strong vocals. The bad production creates a feedback loop that makes this all the more noticeable. The style is deliberate, trying to deliver lyrics staccato to establish a New Wave groove, and at times it works, but not often.

More often I found myself admiring some of the core melodies but getting frustrated that all that focus on percussion and weak singing were detracting from them. “Facts About Cats” has such a pretty little fifties lilt that overcomes both lyrical and production shortcomings but it is the exception, not the rule.

“Shame on You” is like a cross between the early rap of Red Hot Chili Peppers and lounge jazz but it doesn’t deliver the cool factor critical to either of those styles. It feels more like a high school musical written by the students.

“Life Is Hard” is one of the album’s bright spots, where the band tells the stories of some down and outs, including Betty:

“Betty’s in a wet t-shirt

Feelin’ foolish and vain

Lookin’ like a house cat

That got caught out in the rain

Starin’ into the mirror

At this less than pretty picture

Feelin’ ten years older now

And fifty bucks richer.”

The song is helped along by a more organic sounding guitar in the front of the mix (often guitar on the record feels like an afterthought) and a bit of well-placed harmonica. I wish there were more of this – both on this song and on the record in general.

As for that hit single, it is clever at first but becomes less clever with each successive listen, and over the years I’ve heard it a lot. “Greetings from Timbuk3” is one of the first CDs I ever bought and over the years this has built up its sentimental value, but on this listen I realized that sentimental value was not enough. It’s time to let this one go.

Best tracks: Life is Hard, Facts About Cats

CD Odyssey Disc 1141: The Decemberists

Usually when I shop for music I bring with me list of all the albums I’m looking for. This weekend I was a bit out of sorts and found myself in the store with 30 minutes to spare, but no list. I took a chance and working off of memory managed to find four albums on my list. These were:

• Sleater-Kinney “All Hands on the Bad One” (2000)
• Courtney Barnett “Tell Me How You Really Feel” (2018)
• David Francey “The Broken Heart of Everything” (2017)
• Okkervil River “In the Rainbow Rain” (2018)

Actually, only three were on my list. I had intended to listen to a few more songs off the new Okkervil River before deciding. Oops. I hope it all works out. Coincidentally, that’s what happened for this next review.

Disc 1141 is… I’ll Be Your Girl

Artist: The Decemberists

Year of Release: 2018

What’s up with the Cover? I am not a fan of this collage-style art so the less said, the better.

How I Came To Know It: I’m a long-time fan of the Decemberists and I’d liked a couple of the early releases from this album so I took the plunge. Sometimes it isn’t much of a story.

How It Stacks Up:  Of the eight Decemberists albums in my collection, “I’ll Be Your Girl” isn’t the greatest but it holds its own. I’ll rank it…fifth. This bumps “Castaways and Cutouts” down to #6 (it started out at #2 when I only had two albums and it has been getting bumped ever since).

Ratings: 3 stars

Put on your heavy eyeliner and wear black because on “I’ll Be Your Girl” the Decemberists embrace their inner Goth and take you along for the ride.

The big addition here is the atmospheric organ floating along in the mix on many songs, as singer-songwriter Colin Meloy adds another trick to his repertoire. The bones of these songs are still vintage Decemberists. They have folk melodies and archaic-sounding expressions like “a wayward child lost anon” and “the augur of a distant ringing bell” but this is mixed in with synth grooves that would have been at home at a nightclub in 1987.

This could go wrong, but it doesn’t. Meloy wisely lets these additional sounds paint flourishes around the edges of the song, or sit in the back of a very layered mix rather than overwhelm the listener. They’re there for you if you want to flip your hair in your face, and do some eighties dancing. If you don’t, you can just as easily focus on the more traditional sounds of the Decemberists: Meloy’s high vibrata vocal and stories that feel stuck in some kind of semi-magical countryside populated with hidden enchanted springs and faeries waiting to steal you away.

I enjoyed the record both ways, flipping back and forth between enjoying the proto-techno grooves and traditional folk structures that always float my boat. The opening track “Once in My Life” is a good example. It has that heart-worn anthem quality of most Decemberist songs and an easy strum at home on any of their more traditional indie folk offerings, but it also has glum lyrics like:

“Oh for once in my life

Could just something go

Could just something go right?”

…that would make Morrissey or Robert Smith proud and a sad organ that makes you pine for Molly Ringwald.

“Severed” abandons any middle ground early, with a straight up drum, organ groove and a guitar that feels like it wants to be a bass. It isn’t what you expect from the Decemberists, but in a weird way it is familiar. Meloy’s vocals are a big part of that, but so is the structure of the song that has a restless energy that slowly builds but never quite bursts. It is the tension that holds their folkier fare together, and it works here as well.

It isn’t all great. “Everything is Awful” is just that, awful. It feels like a response to that dumb Lego movie song “Everything is Awesome” with lots of silly call and answer and an arrangement that sounds like it belongs on Sesame Street. However, it isn’t the new elements of Goth that wreck it; I just didn’t like the song.

Later in the record the band spreads its wings a bit. “Sucker’s Prayer” has an a.m. radio guitar rock sway that made me think of 1975 and ironic moustaches before they were ironic. O who am I kidding? Those moustaches were always ironic. But I digress – it is a cool song with a bit more guitar than the rest of the record, and it gets bonus points for mentioning my favourite French poet, Charles Baudelaire.

The record ends with the title track, a short little love song, stripped down and touching. Like the rest of the record, the lyrics are creative and evocative. Meloy sings:

“So when everything soft abrades you

When fortune has long betrayed you

And you’re longing for an arm to stay you

I’ll be your girl.”

The song has a hint of the eighties in the plonk of the guitar, but mostly this is the Decemberists stripped down, and Meloy reminding you he could have kept it simple and sweet the whole time but he wanted to stretch his wings a little. That stretching ends up turning into a solid record which is brave without being brazen and sweet without being saccharine. Well played, you crazy folk-Goths.

Best tracks: Once in My Life, Severed, Sucker’s Prayer, I’ll Be Your Girl

CD Odyssey Disc 1140: The Civil Wars

After an extended weekend filled with a lot of emotional ups and downs, I returned to work and encountered…mostly downs. Ah well. As Bad Santa teaches, they can’t all be winners, kid.

Disc 1140 is… Barton Hollow

Artist: The Civil Wars

Year of Release: 2011

What’s up with the Cover? Joy Williams and John Paul White share an intimate yet awkwardly distant moment. They thought they could make it work, but she’s a wine girl and he likes whiskey.

How I Came To Know It: This album was #66 on Paste Magazine’s Top100 indie folk albums of all time. I gave it a shot, and I liked it.

How It Stacks Up:  Despite Paste Magazine’s opinion, I rank their 2013 self-titled album (reviewed back at Disc 1128) at number one, dropping “Barton Hollow” into second place

Ratings: 3 stars

Maybe it is that I gave this album an extended listen just last weekend, or maybe it is that I recently reviewed their other record, but I wasn’t overwhelmed by “Barton Hollow” the way many music critics before me have been.

This record got a lot of hype back in 2011 when it came out, or at least a lot of hype within the subset of obscure indie folk music. But listening to it, I just kept thinking that that it was good, but nothing special.

All the elements of their eponymous follow up are there. Joy Williams and John Paul White have voices that play prettily off one another, the guitar work is understated and evocative and the songs have melodies that surprise (and sometimes) delight you. I didn’t feel the emotional connection in places, though, and it took away from all that technical virtuosity.

The record starts with “20 Years” which features a catchy bit of finger picking on guitar, and some lovely loose harmonies. The song floats along with a haunting lift and fall, each verse punctuated by that same guitar sequence.

“20 Years” explores lost love and regret, as do a lot of the songs on “Barton Hollow.” I don’t know what eventually came between Williams and White that caused their breakup after only two records, but it is clear that they’ve mastered how to sing songs about melancholy and romantic disconnect, even if they weren’t feeling it yet themselves.

Sometimes it gets so heavy it feels theatrical, and I was often reminded of that musical number in a Disney film or a musical where the hero and heroine are in their own scenes, singing songs about how sad they feel, and how no one will understand them. Lots of hands-to-breast and eyes cast skyward against the injustice of it all, etc.

On “Poison & Wine” it works wonderfully, showing that even when you are emotionally in sync with someone, it doesn’t mean they are good emotions. The song is bitter and sweet exactly as they intended. Later, “Girl With the Red Balloon” and “Falling” explore the same emotional landscapes but feel overwrought and filled with bathos. “Girl with the Red Balloon” sounds like the title of some European art film and the song felt like its musical equivalent, overwrought and overstuffed with forced metaphor.

It is a cautionary tale that a song of lost love is like the surface of a pond. It’s the surface tension of hinting at what’s underneath that makes it work; push too hard and you fall through and break the spell.

They take a brief break from all this tear-jerking reverie on the title track. “Barton Hollow”; a comparatively upbeat track about some heist gone wrong, filled with murder and the dread of the damned. A lot of the music on the album is light and ethereal but Barton Hollow opts for a comparatively crunchy (for folk) guitar strum that sits down with some gusto into all that crime and sin. I could have used a couple more like this to give the record more balance.

Instead, it is followed by an instrumental piece titled “The Violet Hour” which is a compelling bit of piano that reminded me favourably of early Enya, stripped down to its essential elements. Like early Enya, it was a lovely composition but not something I’d put on often unless I was having a hard time getting to sleep on account of eating cheese too late in the evening or something.

Unfortunately, that would be the summary of “Barton Hollow” as a whole. The record has some good moments, and Williams and White are gifted musicians but the record was a bit too mopey, and not in a good way. The strength of songs like “20 Years” and “Poison & Wine” easily secure it a place on my shelves, but it isn’t going to come off for a spin in the disc player as often as the record’s reputation would suggest.

Best tracks: 20 Years, I’ve Got this Friend, Poison & Wine, Barton Hollow

CD Odyssey Disc 1139: Gillian Welch

Today is the first day of a four day weekend packed with events. I spent a lot of today running errands and I’m about to run some more, but before I do I’m determined to squeeze in this review.

Disc 1139 is… Time (the Revelator)

Artist: Gillian Welch

Year of Release: 2001

What’s up with the Cover? The third cover in recent memory to feature a couch! This time Gillian sits up on an old couch, looking suitably folksy. The way she’s clutching that couch, it looks like she expects a gnarly wave to grab it and toss her toward the shore. Note to Gillian: this is not how couch surfing works.

How I Came To Know It: Welch’s reputation in the folk world is rock solid so I had heard her here and there over many years on various folk compilations I have but I’d never delved into her collection. That changed last year, and I quickly dug in deep.

How It Stacks Up:  I have four Gillian Welch albums and they are all good, but I’m going to give “Time (the Revelator)” the early edge and rank it at number one.

Ratings: 4 stars but almost 5

When you have a voice like Gillian Welch you don’t need to hide behind a lot of production and instrumentation. “Time (the Revelator)” understands this, wisely sitting back with a lone guitar or banjo and letting Welch’s vocals and these amazing songs shine.

Welch has a fearless singing style, ranging around the melody with the ease of someone knowing they can hit any note from any vantage point. Her style is grounded in traditional Americana folk and bluegrass, with strong elements of the Delta blues mixed in. The result is a pastoral sweetness mixed with a generous helping of grit and grime.

Welch’s versatility gets a workout on “Time” with songs that range with just as much daring and variety as her singing. “Dear Someone” sounds like something you’d hear late at night at a Hawaiian luau, while the guests happily settled on the beach in each other’s arms. It is followed immediately by an upbeat bluegrass number, “Red Clay Halo.” The transition could have been awkward but Welch surfs from the shores of Hawaii to the red clay dirt of the American backcountry with ease. Maybe on that couch in the cover photo…but I digress.

This album isn’t just about Welch’s singing, however; the guitar work on “Time” is some of the finest I’ve heard. The guitar is flat-picked and stark, with a big sound that conveys a lot of emotion in every note, and a lot of space between the notes to let that feeling sink in. I believe this is mostly David Rawlings on lead, but I’m not sure. Either way, Rawlings is the hidden weapon on this (and many other) Gillian Welch albums. He’s the equivalent to Tom Waits’ wife, Kathleen Brennan, co-writing the songs and a big part of the success, even if his partner is the headliner on the record.

The lyrics on “Time” are lush and honest, none more so than “My First Lover”. A first love is a topic that is often idealized, but Welch allows for no romantic reimagining in her reverie. It’s the tale of a wild love, with passionate sex dripping just off screen of every scene, but it isn’t true love. As Welch puts it:

“He was tall and breezy with his long hair down
But he gets a little hazy when I think of him now”

And then later:

“I do not remember any fights or fits
Just a shaky morning after callin' it quits”

Maybe a few hard feelings, but they’re well in the past now. Mostly Welch is just long done with her long-haired lothario.

“Elvis Presley Blues” is a bluesy number that captures the King’s famous hip-swinging with a series of powerful images that stack one on the other throughout the song, until it is like Presley is dancing right in front of you:

“And he shook it like a chorus girl
And he shook it like a Harlem Queen
He shook it like a midnight rambler, baby
Like you never seen, like you never seen, never seen”

Welch sings the lines high in her head voice and Rawlings picks some of the prettiest guitar you’ll hear. The song doesn’t make you want to swivel your hips, but it does make you sway with the memory of the glory of those early days of rock and roll.

“Everything is Free” is a confessional of a down-and-outer, dreaming of making one big score, or maybe just “getting a straight job/I done it before”. The song has a soft and heart-worn wander that gets you into head space of someone down on their luck, but still clutching a few dreams. You can just tell things aren’t going to work out for this character yet again, making their stubborn refusal to give up even more tragic.

The record ends with “I Dream a Highway.” It is over 14 minutes long, with a refrain of the song title at the end of every one of its many quatrains, but never feels stale. Instead, the constant repetition puts your mind in a state of quiet meditation. “I Dream a Highway” is a song that seems to recognize that life’s long journey may make you weary from time to time, but it also has a wonderful rhythm if you just open your heart and listen to it. Not unlike this album – now go do that.

Best tracks: Time (the Revelator), My First Lover, Elvis Presley Blues, Everything is Free, I Dream a Highway

CD Odyssey Disc 1138: The Sword

It’s been a long day which has tossed me hither and yon but I am determined to deliver a music review before my pumpkin bursts.

Disc 1133 is… Apocryphon

Artist: The Sword

Year of Release: 2012

What’s up with the Cover? All kinds of awesome. We’ve got the classic “Sword” logo, arched over a mysterious sorceress. She’s conjured a couple of floating runes and a triangle of fire out of the ruins of a collapsed statue or temple. Also, she appears to be asking us to keep it down. Maybe the Sword are her neighbours and she’s tired of them jamming at all hours of the night.

How I Came To Know It: I discovered the band through their “Age of Winters” album (reviewed back at Disc 1055) and this was just me drilling through their collection.

How It Stacks Up:  I have four albums by The Sword and I rank “Apocryphon” second overall.

Ratings: 4 stars

Heft: there’s nothing like it. Like a tidal wave, or a load of bricks, or the 440 V8 in a 1968 Dodge Charger, you can’t resist it. The Sword’s fourth album “Apocryphon” has heft. It digs in, thick and visceral and unleashes a torrent of chugging heavy metal riffs that are awesome and inexorable.

The Sword is part of the New Wave of Traditional Heavy Metal or NWOTHM (yeah, they could use a better acronym). This music has its feet planted firmly in the birth of metal, channeling the early sludge of Black Sabbath, the grind of Motorhead and the fantastical bombast of Iron Maiden. Don’t expect to be surprised by creative new melodic structures – these guys know what makes traditional metal great and they stay within it. Thudding drums, power-chord fuelled guitars and churning energy that feels like the earth’s gravitational pull; diffuse yet irresistible.

Unlike some metal bands, “Apocryphon” is not a bunch of prima donna virtuosos playing their instruments. Instead, the focus is on all four band members coming together to create a singular crunch.

Jimmy Vela’s drums have the dull thud of early Bill Ward and guitarist Kyle Shutt eschews fast-fingered solos in favour of a groove that fits right in with Vela’s boom-sticks. Thickening up them both is Bryan Richie on bass. Lead singer JD Cronise doesn’t have Bruce Dickinson operatic chops, but he has an echoing quality that is the perfect match for his band-mates. Cronise channels early Ozzy but it isn’t derivative so much as it is the next step in the slow furling of blues and metal into a single organism.

As for lyrics, “Apocryphon” keeps up the fine Sword tradition of fantasy and horror fueled excess. Cronise sits in the pocket and fills all that crazy with import and urgency, like you’ve been invited to some Mithraic right. It is either going to end in shots of Jack Daniels or the bloody sacrifice of a bull and both seem equally likely. Okay, more likely the bull.

It isn’t easy to make this stuff work, but Cronise (aided by the crunch of the band) sells lines like:

“She wore a cloak of feathers

And rode a mare of purest white

A silver chalice in her hand

A look of sadness in her eyes”

And:

“So strikes the Queen of the Air

Like a blow from a titan’s hammer”

…with ease.

What are all these songs about? As with Dio songs (another clear influence) it isn’t clear, but it seems Super Important. Mostly it feels like you are witnessing the human race stagger into terrible eldritch secrets we were never meant to know but that we can’t help pursue; the riffs are just too cool to resist.

Sometimes with metal I find myself drawn into the music, and other times the lyrics catch my attention, but with “Apocryphon” I feel tugged equally in both directions. The mix is nice and steady and Cronise sings with clarity and purpose. Any one of these songs could be the beginning of some fantasy novel I would have read as a kid, and I bet if I’d heard these guys when I was 10 they’d be my favourite. OK, maybe not my favourite (Blue Oyster Cult, you will always have my heart) but you get the idea.

My only quibble is with the record packaging. The cover art is cool, but it is on one of those cardboard covers that slide over the jewel case and has no song listing. When you slide that off, the songs are only listed in clever puzzles where the initials in the song’s title are drawn together so they appear to be runes of some kind. Like “The Hidden Masters” is the “T”, “H” and M” all pulled together so it looks like an ancient Norse character. Sheila deciphered it with ease so kudos to her top-notch puzzle-solving skills, but shame on the band for being deliberately obtuse. Next time put your clever rune riddles beside the track listing, not instead of it.

Otherwise, there isn’t much not to like on “Apocryphon”. I’ve had a draining few days but every time I’ve had the time to get “Apocryphon” between my ears I’ve been renewed and invigorated. This is music for raising your fist and sounding your barbaric yawp. Bust out the silver chalices and toast the return of metal, molten and primordial.

Best tracks: Cloak of Feathers, The Hidden Masters, Execrator, Hawks & Serpents, Eye of the Stormwitch, Apocryphon

CD Odyssey Disc 1137: Courtney Marie Andrews

After a lovely evening out last night my Friday has started slow, but that’s OK – I’ve got the day off. I’m looking forward to a three day weekend recharging my batteries, which are feeling a bit run down of late.

Here’s some music!

Disc 1137 is… May Your Kindness Remain

Artist: Courtney Marie Andrews

Year of Release: 2018

What’s up with the Cover? For the second time in a row we have a country artist stretched out on the couch. If my mom saw Courtney stretched out like this she’d probably say “get your shoes off the couch before you tear the upholstery!”

My reaction was…different. Courtney can stretch out on my couch in those shoes anytime she likes.

How I Came To Know It: I absolutely loved Andrews’ 2016 album “An Honest Life” (reviewed back at Disc 1081) to the point where I was giving her a free pass on whatever she released next. This was it.

How It Stacks Up:  I have three Courtney Marie Andrews albums, which is all of them. Sadly, I must put “May Your Kindness Remain” in third (aka last) place.

Ratings: 3 stars

While “May Your Kindness Remain” is not the masterpiece that Courtney Marie Andrews’ previous record was, it still has a lot going for it.

Chief among those things are Andrews’ vocals. She reminds me of a classic seventies country singer like Loretta Lynn or Emmylou Harris; sweet with more than a little heartache around the edges.

Andrews is also a gifted songwriter, and “May Your Kindness Remain” has a nice mix of old school country and new school hipster. Her songs have plenty of heartache but there is a thread of optimism wound through the record that warms the heart. Songs like the title track and “Kindness of Strangers” are appeals to community and acceptance. These are songs that ask us to cleave to our better natures, and are filled with hope that strangers will do the same.

Sometimes she goes too far, and on “This House” feels a bit trite with its whole “our house is a home” theme but for the most part she does a great job of taking the tarnished aspects of life and finding beauty in them.

I found “Two Cold Nights in Buffalo” a complicated listen. It’s a great song, but I have a hard time feeling sorry for Buffalo given my hatred of the Buffalo Bills. Courtney Marie Andrews would tell me it’s wrong to hate, but I’m pretty sure I get a pass for the Bills. Bastards. But I digress…

On “Border” Andrews experiments with the blues, and while the song is OK, her sweet vocals aren’t a good match for the grit the blues requires.

My biggest issue with the record is the production. On her previous two records, Andrews goes for a stripped down, stark style which accentuates the power of her singing and songwriting. On “May Your Kindness Remain” she brings in a lot more rock elements, backup singers and lush production. It isn’t bad, but it felt like I had to wade through all that excess to get to the heart of the songs. When I did get there it was worth it, and the album got better on multiple listens, which is a good sign.

The album ends with “Long Road Back To You,” a six minute long mood piece which features some of the best singing on the record. This was one song that benefited from the bigger sound on the record, creating a dreamy quality. This is a song for staring out a rain-streaked window thinking about absent friends and lovers you wish were there with you.

While I might prefer her previous record, it is also fun to watch Andrews’ sound evolve and change. I have a feeling she’ll be around for a long time and I’m looking forward to the continuing journey. Would I buy her next album unheard on the strength of “May Your Kindness Remain”? Yes I would.

Best tracks: May Your Kindness Remain, Two Cold Nights in Buffalo, Rough Around the Edges, Kindness of Strangers, Long Road Back to You

CD Odyssey Disc 1136: Johnny Flynn

On my last review I was hankering for some new music (I am insatiable in this regard) and so Sunday found me downtown buying a few albums. Three of them are new releases: Frank Turner’s “Be More Kind,” Janelle Monae’s “Dirty Computer,” and Eleanor Friedberger’s “Rebound.” I also got my one remaining album from the “Best of 1978” records I’ve been searching for with the purchase of Devo’s “Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo!”

At some point we’ll return to all these records, when the dice gods decide it is time. Let’s see what they chose for me now…

Disc 1136 is… Sillion

Artist: Johnny Flynn

Year of Release: 2017

What’s up with the Cover? I have no idea. Is that some broken piece of statuary? A crude stone carving of a cat or maybe a turtle?

How I Came To Know It: I was in the record store searching for Johnny Flynn’s 2008 album “A Larum” but saw this one instead. I was keen to have some Johnny Flynn in my collection so I threw caution to the wind and bought “Sillion” without ever having heard a song off of it.

How It Stacks Up:  I have recently been able to find “A Larum” (it wasn’t easy) and now have two Johnny Flynn albums. Of the two I’ll put “Sillion” in second place.

Ratings: 3 stars but almost 4

Johnny Flynn is a South African born, English folk singer with a timeless delivery that would be equally at home in 1518 as 2018. “Sillion” is his fifth studio album and shows that a decade into his weird and wonderful career, he is still pushing the envelope of the traditional forms of folk music.

I had to look it up, but the definition of “Sillion” is “the thick, voluminous, and shiny soil turned over by a plow.” It is an evocative image and one well suited to Johnny Flynn’s fifth album, which is a mix of musical forms so old they feel like primordial truths, newly discovered through Flynn’s artistry.

Flynn goes on about this image for some time in the album liner notes, but the presentation feels a bit forced and affected. Fortunately the music is anything but, digging fearlessly into some kind of fey and dreamlike truth that you can’t fully grasp but somehow feels full of wisdom.

These tracks are more mood pieces than narratives, with a haunted quality that draws you in and raises the hairs on your arms. It feels like you have stumbled through the woods and come upon a troupe of Gaelic spirits sitting up late in an abandoned and crumbling cathedral, trading songs until they are dispelled by the dawn.

The opening track is as ghostly as it gets. “Raising the Dead” starts with a deep echo and the faint ringing of bells, and then Flynn’s high lilt tells the tale of the ghosts of dead relatives returning to haunt your home. It is a little eerie, but it isn’t frightening. This is a celebration of memory and the guidance we get from those who come before long after they are gone. Whether it is just memory, or whether Flynn imagines the dead actually returning to inspire us is deliciously unclear.

“Sillion” stays at this murky edge of our conscious and unconscious minds. On “Wandering Aengus” he sings:

“People talk of rain, now for the pain

Now in the swing of all the people at the gate

Call of men-folks down in the woods, bow down to Cyprus

In the hazel wood and wave

For the song, for the song of Wandering Aengus”

Who is this Wandering Aengus? Is he man or faery? It doesn’t matter. The song inspires you with the carefree joy of a walk in the woods. You might lose yourself there for a while and see strange sights out of the corner of your eye, but no serious harm will befall you.

I was never fully sure what songs were about, but they would always fill me with restless energy. Flynn goes deep into primordial rhythms and gets your heart fluttering in new and wonderful ways. For the most part, he does this with traditionally Irish structures, but he is not afraid to explore pop or jazz elements if they serve to keep you attuned to the magic and the mystery.

The production is light on bass, which help keep Flynn’s vocals from being overpowered. It can be a bit too tinny here and there, but for the most part it works with the songs well. The notable exception is “Heart Sunk Hank” which is partially recorded on an old-time Voice-o-Graph machine. I don’t know what the fascination is with these things lately (Neil Young did a whole album on one for “A Letter Home” (reviewed very negatively at Disc 850), but it needs to stop. They were a nifty novelty in 1945, but the sound quality was crap then, and it’s crap now.

This is the exception, however. For the rest of the record it has an old school quality to the sound, but not to the point where it sacrifices quality. And besides, nothing can steal the dreamy magic of “Sillion” away for long. Flynn’s lilting vocals clamber about these songs with a restless and elfin quality that makes you nervous he’s a changeling and if you listen too long he’s going to steal you away to faerie land forever. At least the music will be good.

Best tracks: Raising the Dead, Wandering Aengus, Barleycorn, In the Deepest, The Landlord

CD Odyssey Disc 1135: Brandi Carlile

I really wanted to get to the music store for a few new releases this weekend, but fate is conspiring against me. I might make a foray on Sunday, or I might just wait until next weekend. CDs won’t be totally phased out by then…although it might be close.

Disc 1135 is… By the Way, I Forgive You

Artist: Brandi Carlile

Year of Release: 2018

What’s up with the Cover? It’s a Giant Head cover! In this case it is in the form of a painting titled “BTW Brandi” by Scott Avett, of the Avett Brothers. I’ve got a couple of Avett Brothers albums and am on the lookout for a third, but I’ll talk about them when I roll ‘em.

How I Came To Know It: I read a review of this album, checked out a few singles on YouTube and decided I’d it a shot.

How It Stacks Up:  I have four Brandi Carlile albums and I like them all, but as I noted when I reviewed “Bear Creek” back at Disc 1114, I’m still getting to know them. “By the Way, I Forgive You” is in a dead heat with “The Firewatcher’s Daughter” at #1. “Firewatcher’s Daughter” is a bit more rock and roll flavoured, and this record is folksier so they’re hard to compare. For now, I’ll give “By The Way, I Forgive You” the edge, while reserving the right to change my mind later.

Ratings: 4 stars

Brandi Carlile’s songs demand your attention. So much so that there was a gap of about 20 minutes from when I sat down to write this review, and when the first words hit the page. I had things to say, but once Carlile started singing I just wanted to hear what she had to say instead.

Carlile sings with a mix of world weariness and hope but whether she is feeling uplifted or downtrodden (and this record features plenty of both) she delivers her message with a depth of conviction that makes her impossible to ignore.

Purists will call this country music, and from a song construction perspective they’d be right, but Carlile has the soul of a folk singer. She tells stories about herself, about others, and blurs the lines sufficiently that you are rarely sure which is which. Carlile’s songs don’t worm their way into your heart so much as they pierce their way in like an arrow: sharp, fast and not without a little pain.

The production is a clever mix of guitar, piano and the flourish of a violin section that is 90% divine (it goes on a bit too long on the record’s final song…but I quibble). Ten years into her career, Carlile’s vocals are as powerful as ever.

The record beings with “Every Time I Hear That Song” a soft confessional about a failed love affair that was wrong from the start. Carlile’s raspy voice tells the story with a mix of hurt and forgiveness. She explores the complicated feelings when you’ve held onto something too long, knowing that you’re better off letting it go while recognizing doing that is closing the door on a part of yourself. As Carlile puts it:

“Without you around I’ve been doing just fine…

Except for anytime I hear that song.”

Some doors are harder to close than others.

“By the Way, I Forgive You” features many lost souls. On “Fulton County Jane Doe” Carlile tells the story of a woman found murdered that has never been identified, infusing that person’s life with meaning, and exploring the darkness of knowing that bad things happen to people for no reason. Carlile can’t offer this murdered stranger much, but she makes a vow nonetheless:

“And when my heart has no rest
And a thousand things are on my mind
I'll always save some room for you
I won't let you get left behind”

“Sugartooth” is a song about addiction and the slow degrading of the human spirit into drugs and loss. Carlile defends these lost souls, calling out those who would dismiss their stories, or judge them without knowing their story. Whatever else, Carlile makes a promise that these people will not be forgotten, and through these songs that promise is kept.

That’s a lot of depressing stuff, but the record is equal parts uplifting. When Carlile sings about family and connection through generations she is at her most inspiring. On “Most of All” she gives a shout out to her parents for the values they gave her. When she sings about her mom and how:

“...most of all

She taught me how to fight

How to move across the line

Between the wrong and the right"

I can’t help but thing of all the strength my mom gave me growing up. Thanks, mom.

Speaking of mothers, “The Mother” is one of the finest songs about motherhood I’ve ever heard. I don’t want kids and don’t typically even like them (although once they’re teenagers they’re alright) but for those three and a quarter minutes I listen to “The Mother” I get it.

The best part is Carlile doesn’t pretend that she isn’t giving something up through motherhood. Instead she absorbs those choices, and explains why this is the right choice for her. She sums it up right near the end of the song (delivering the punch line right after the bridge, ensuring your ears are tuned in even closer):

"All my rowdy friends are out accomplishing their dreams

But I am the mother of Evangeline

"And they've still got their morning paper and their coffee and their time

And they still enjoy their evenings with the skeptics and the wine

Oh, but all the wonders I have seen, I will see a second time

From inside of the ages through your eye"

Yeah, I’m still out there enjoying my evenings with the skeptics and the wine with no regrets, but great music makes you see the other side. Sometimes that’s a murdered Jane Doe, sometimes that’s an addict and sometimes that’s the joy of motherhood. Well done, Brandi.

Best tracks: Every Time I Hear That Song, The Joke, The Mother, Whatever You Do, Fulton County Jane, Sugartooth,   

CD Odyssey Disc 1134: The Beatles

I broke a tooth last week and this afternoon I had to get a filling. Dentistry has come a long way since the last time I got a filling – I can hardly feel it.

Much more painful was the Boston Bruins losing for the second straight game to the Tampa Bay Lightning. The needle to the jaw was far less painful.

Disc 1134 is… Help!

Artist: The Beatles

Year of Release: 1965

What’s up with the Cover? The Beatles spell out some nonsense message in semaphore. Yes, you probably think this spells “Help!” but it doesn’t – it spells “NUJV”. As a result, it’s just four guys sticking their arms out at different angles, taking this cover from clever…to stupid.

How I Came To Know It: This is one of the most famous pop albums of all time, so that’s how I know it. In terms of why it is in my collection, Sheila is a Beatles fan, and she bought it years ago.

How It Stacks Up:  We (Sheila) have seven Beatles albums. Of those seven, I’d put “Help!” in at #4, which is respectable.

Ratings: 3 stars

The good news is that “Help!” was a pleasant surprise – I really enjoyed this record in places. The bad news is that I have low expectations when it comes to the Beatles, so it was easier to impress me than the average guy drinking Rolling Stone magazine’s bathwater.

OK, that was unkind. Rolling Stone magazine also overdoes it over the Stones and Dylan, and I don’t talk trash that way about them, do I? Also, there is a good reason that “Help!” is one of pop music’s most revered records. There is some pretty amazing songwriting on this record, and smart production makes that songwriting shine.

Listening to “Help!” I felt the weight of its influence on music. These songs have pop structures that have become the norm in radio friendly pop, and while other bands were doing great things in rock and roll in 1965, the Beatles were one of the best at it.

My preference for the Beatles is later in their career, and the sugary pop music topics on “Help!” didn’t catch my attention. Lots of “boy meets girl” and “boy loses girl” stuff that felt a lot like a movie soundtrack (half the record was a movie soundtrack – and a good one at that).

The album adheres almost exclusively to radio friendly “under three minute” songs, and crams 14 of them into only 35 minutes of playing time. I didn’t mind this. The Beatles know how to craft a pretty melody, progress it along a path that seems carefree and natural and then resolve it with a minimum of fuss. It leaves you sated but not overstuffed.

This record has some of the most recognizable pop songs, and the grand-daddy of them all is “Yesterday.” I’ve heard this song a hundred times, and probably over 20 people cover it, but it never loses its magic. I don’t love the Beatles, but I freely admit that “Yesterday” is a five star song.

On this listen I was drawn to “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away” with its build that is both triumphant and regret-filled and the artful use of the tambourine. The whole album has a lot of tambourine, but the Beatles employ it well every time.

By contrast, I found “You’re Gonna Lose That Girl” creepy and predatory, with the singer ostensibly insisting someone treat their girlfriend better, but really wanting an excuse to steal her away. It reminded me of the Ohio Players’ “Backstabbers” although I prefer the latter.

The Beatles even make room for a couple covers of American songs, with the very country “Act Naturally” and the classic rock “Dizzy Miss Lizzy” and both are as good as the original (the latter being buoyed by George Harrison’s amazing guitar work).

This album is solid and even important in the history of music, but as is so often the case with Beatles albums, I wasn’t as inspired as is expected by the crowd. What can I say, I can’t Nujv the way I feel.

Best tracks: I Need You, You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away, I’ve Just Seen a Face, Yesterday