CD Odyssey Disc 1234: Matt Patershuk

It was a cold and dark walk home tonight and I am both tired and a bit battered by the north wind. Fortunately, I had music for the walk – here’s what it was.

Disc 1234 is… Same as I Ever Have Been

Artist: Matt Patershuk

Year of Release: 2017

What’s up with the Cover? I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know what this is. Some kind of juke box, maybe – like those small ones they used to mount on diner tables? In any event, it is promising a mid-evening selection of songs for both “regretful brutes” and “sentimental drunkards” which sounds like two ways an evening can go sideways.

How I Came To Know It: I read about Matt Patershuk in a Canadian folk magazine around the time this album came out. That drew me to look him up online and I liked what I heard, so I bought both this album and 2015’s “I Was So Fond of You.”

How It Stacks Up:  I have just those two Matt Patershuk albums. Of the two, I must put “Same As I Have Ever Been” in second place.

Ratings:  4 stars

Matt Patershuk is a throwback in all the most delightful ways. His homespun, earthy songs are like a cross between the outlaw country of sixties Merle Haggard and the confessional folk of eighties Leonard Cohen.

If that comparison made you imagine a gravelly, whisky-damaged voice then you were right. Patershuk has a rasp to his mosey that draws you in like some guy in a smoky pub telling stories up at the bar to anyone who’ll listen.

The opening track – the excessively titled “Sometimes You’ve Got to do Bad Things to Do Good” is the exception to all of this. It is a blues driven electric blast of hard choices and the grown-assed men who make them. It’s a great song, but after this Patershuk settles down into his more introspective side.

The album has a lot of country twang to it. Albeit less than his previous release “I Was So Fond of You,” but still plenty of bar-door swingin’ and songs about working class lads putting in an honest day of labour.

While I’m not one for delving too much into the artist’s biography, blue-collar anthems like “Hot Knuckle Blues” are a bit more fun when you know that Patershuk is himself a handy guy and a general contractor who lives on a farm and makes his real money building bridges and working with his hands. This means you’re less likely to see him out on tour (at the time of this writing his next advertised show is at the Grande Prairie Legion Hall) but it does mean you can expect authenticity in his art.

Patershuk deserves to be a whole lot more famous. His music may be simple, but it is cleverly written and his lyrics are downright erudite. On the once-again excessively titled “Memory and the First Law of Thermodynamics” he sings about the loss of his sister, who died a few years ago at the hands of a drunk driver.

“Memory…” is a heartfelt song about all the things that remind Patershuk of his sister, and the comfort he takes in that aforementioned Law of Thermodynamics. Or as Patershuk paints it:

“You know physicists say folks don’t go away

That all things continue to be

That all of you floats above in the blue

You’re just less orderly.”

Patershuk’s vocals remind me of Cohen on this and many other songs. He has Cohen’s phrasing, and while he’s not as masterful with the pen, he can still manage more than a few quatrains with a brilliant twist at the end.

The Cohen comparisons are further aided by the way the arrangements use flourishes of saxophone and piano and the loose harmonies of fellow folk singer Ana Egge who comes in at the top of many of the song to add a ghost of poignance to the experience.

On “Atlas” Patershuk artfully mixes imagery of the ancient titan Atlas holding up the world, with a regular man in a pub filled with regret. Like any great songwriter, Patershuk sets the scene in the specific:

“Atlas, holding the world up?

Aah, c’mon man, you know that’s just a myth

He’s drinkin’ in a Grande Prairie bar called breakers

With a herniated disc.”

And then turns myth into a cautionary tale for us all:

“Guess that is the lonely life

Of solitary gods and men

Pullin’ on a sleeve of cheap flat draught

Wishin’ we could it all again.”

Other than some of the song titles being too damned long, my biggest complaint with this record is it is a little long. It is only 12 songs, but many are over five minutes and feel like they could resolve sooner. Sometimes this becomes just part of Patershuk’s slow-shuffle charm, but other times they dragged.

This is a pretty minor complaint however, on a record that deserves a lot more attention, and an artist that is making some pretty great art in about as unassuming way as you’ll find. He’s well worth a trip to Legion, if you’re lucky enough to be passing through Grande Prairie on the right night.

Best tracks: Sometimes You’ve Got to Do Bad Things to Do Good, Gypsy, Memory and the First Law of Thermodynamics, Boreal, Atlas

CD Odyssey Disc 1233: Mary Chapin Carpenter

Here’s a fun fact. Last Thursday (Feb. 21) was this next artist’s birthday! Happy birthday, Mary Chapin Carpenter!

Disc 1233 is… Come On Come On

Artist: Mary Chapin Carpenter

Year of Release: 1992

What’s up with the Cover? The traditional Giant Head cover. Mary looks a little tight-lipped in this picture, not in a “I’m keeping secrets” kind of way but more of a “I’m not entirely comfortable with what is going on over there in stage left” kind of way.

How I Came To Know It: I was trying to find some common ground with a woman, because I was either in love or lust with her. At the time I thought it was the former but looking back it seems the latter is more likely.

Anyway, she liked Mary Chapin Carpenter, so I bought this album. You can read a full accounting of the whole sordid experience in my review of “State of the Heart” back at Disc 946. Spoiler alert: I did not get the girl.

How It Stacks Up:  I have eight Mary Chapin Carpenter albums. “Come On Come On” is pretty great, and I expected it to land in second place overall, but after a song by song comparison with “State of the Heart” I must drop it down to a respectful third. It was close though.

Ratings:  4 stars

“Come On Come On” completes the journey Carpenter began on “Shooting Straight in the Dark” (reviewed at Disc 378) from a traditional folk-country sound to a more contemporary folk-pop sound.

That previous foray felt awkwardly experimental at times, but on “Come On Come On” Carpenter shows she has now mastered the new sound. Country purists that were with her from the beginning may well have turned up their noses, but for the most part the album was widely embraced and become her biggest selling record of all time.

Much as I like to snob it up when it comes to music, I’m with the masses on this one. My two favourite records from Carpenter may have been her first, but “Come On Come On” is brilliant, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The opening track “The Hard Way” is a great example, with a production that feels like an ocean swell, full of a diffuse and powerful movement, but no sharp edges. Carpenter’s rich low Mezzo-Soprano vocals have always had a smoothness to them it fit well with her new vocal. “The Hard Way” even has a rock guitar solo in the bridge, and the trill of pop piano but the bones of the song – a great melody and Carpenter’s rich confident vocals – are as strong and compelling as ever.

“The Hard Way” is a song that celebrates life’s difficulty and while the theme of “you wouldn’t appreciate it if it were easy” is well-worn, it isn’t done much better than here.

The record is replete with positive energy, including two songs (“I Feel Lucky”, “I Take My Chances”) about embracing your own good fortune or – in the absence of certainty – rolling the dice and confidently hoping for the best. 1992 wasn’t an easy year for me, and I found the record’s optimism reassuring and inspirational.

Even on break-up songs like “He’ll Think He’ll Keep Her” are celebratory. The man might be in shock watching his wife walk out the door but for her this is a fresh start on a life deferred for too long. On “Only a Dream” an older brother leaves an abusive home, and while the song is about loss for the sister, for the brother it is about finding your own road and taking it.

Carpenter is a celebrated songwriter, and these songs are some of her best. Musically, she is equally adept at blues, country or swing depending on what the song calls for. Lyrically, she paints pictures with words that are sharp and specific, but speak to a river of emotion and experience that are universally relatable. “Only a Dream” ends with:

“The day you left home you got an early start

I watched your car back out in the dark

I opened the door to your room down the hall

I turned on the light and all that I saw

Was a bed and a desk and a couple of tacks

No sign of someone who expects to be back

It must’ve been one hell of a suitcase you packed.”

Writing 101: The specific is terrific.

Williams also does a couple of covers: Lucinda Williams’ “Passionate Kisses” and Dire Straits’ “The Bug.” At the time I had no idea either was a cover, and wouldn’t properly discover Lucinda Williams for another decade, but it shows that Carpenter has a great ear for a good song, whether it’s hers or someone else’s.  While I prefer the original in both cases, it is a testament to Carpenter’s talent that it wasn’t an easy choice.

The album ends with the title track, an understated, haunting song about looking back on life from middle-age, and acceptance about all the choices that got you to…here. The chorus is a mix of sweetness and whispered comfort. Many’s the time I put this on and lay down in the dark to take comfort in a lullaby founded in the reassurance of experience and acceptance.

25 years and hundreds of listens later this album still works its soothing magic on me, giving me peace with the past and optimism for whatever comes next.

Best tracks: The Hard Way, Only a Dream, I Am a Town, Walking Through Fire, Come On Come On

CD Odyssey Disc 1232: Mr. Lif

Welcome back to the CD Odyssey. Now let’s get this ship under sail!

Disc 1232 is… I Phantom

Artist: Mr. Lif

Year of Release: 2002

What’s up with the Cover? At first glance this just a logo of a person in front of a nuclear holocaust, but when you look closer, the picture is surrounded by a bunch of smaller graphics including the Capitol building, booze and drugs, luggage, weapons, sex, fast food, consumerism, and various forms of media. Like the record, it is a lot to unpack.

How I Came To Know It: My friend Ross introduced me to Mr. Lif. I liked it and before I knew it he’d bought me this album as a thank you for taking care of his cat. Thanks, Ross!

How It Stacks Up:  I have two of Mr. Lif’s four albums. Of those two, “I Phantom” is the lesser.

Ratings:  3 stars

“I Phantom” answers the question “what if you crossed ‘Office Space’ with ‘On the Beach’ and then made it into a rap album? Put another way, if you are looking for a rapper that talks about drugs, violence and how cool his new Nikes are, then this is not the album for you.

“I Phantom” is a concept album that tells the story about a man who tries to pursue the American dream but finds he is just falling further and further behind, making low wages at a job he hates and growing apart from his wife and son. He quits and finds happiness as a rapper. Then there are a whole bunch of plot twists which are kind of hard to follow, and then the whole thing ends in a nuclear holocaust. So yeah, there is a lot to unpack.

The plot twists are explained in a narrative in the liner notes, but I am of the opinion that art should speak for itself and not require explanation. The songs lose me somewhere between “career rapper” and “mushroom cloud” and figuring it out through the liner notes is like some guy at an Open Mic explaining his song before he plays it; annoying.

Rap albums have a tradition of skits, and “I Phantom” has a few. I’ve never liked this particular tradition, and the opening track “Bad Card” where our narrator seeks to borrow a gun from a friend just goes on interminably and had me frustrated and hoping that at some point I’d hear music. A later skit, “Daddy Dearest” features some solid writing and voice acting about an awkward conversation between a father and his estranged son. It was really well done but again, I would prefer music. Save that stuff for the podcasts I don’t listen to!

Fortunately, when the songs are featured they are solid. The beats and samples have a head-bob inducing groove and are clever and original. There is a seventies funk quality to “I Phantom” which is artfully mixed with jazzy beats and well-placed scratching. “New Man Theme” and “Status” are particularly funky and the album is a winner for having these two tracks alone.

While inventive, the beats and samples on “I Phantom” don’t get so complicated to stand in the way of Mr. Lif’s frenetic flow. Lif leans into the front of the beat, and when he is hitting he compares favourably to K-OS or Eminem. There are times where he is pushing a bit too many rhymes into a beat without the expected payoff but those times are rare.

For the most part, Mr. Lif’s flow combines urgency, narration and dense, clever rhymes that create energy and drama. On first listen, these songs come at you hard and from many angles. It threatens to overwhelm you but on repeat listens you learn to find that sweet spot between the funky grooves and the intensity of Mr. Lif’s flow. Maybe the storyline will also be clearer to me as I continue to get to know the record, but if not the songs are good enough to stand on their own.

Best tracks: Return of the B-Boy, Live from the Plantation, New Man Theme, Status, The Now, Earthcrusher

CD Odyssey Disc 1231: Great Big Sea

Sometimes the randomness of the Odyssey gives me a brand-new album to discover and sometimes it gives me an old and cherished favourite. Today it was the latter.

Disc 1231 is… Play

Artist: Great Big Sea

Year of Release: 1997

What’s up with the Cover? A collectible toy from a time in the distant past when toys sucked. Anyone who says toys were better back in the day is just jealous that they don’t get to play with the new ones.

Fortunately, as this album proves, old songs are still just as good as ever!

How I Came To Know It: I was already a fan of Great Big Sea and bought this album when it came out trusting it would be as good as the ones I already had. Back then you couldn’t Youtube songs first, so you watched a video or two on VH-1 or CMT and if it sounded promising you took the plunge.

How It Stacks Up:  The last time I did a Great Big Sea review (August of 2015) I had five albums but I’ve recently added a sixth. Of those six, “Play” comes in at #2.

Ratings:  4 stars

“Play” is an apt title for this record’s role in my music collection because have I played the living shit out of this record. Part of this is that when I bought it back in 1997 I only owned so many albums; part of it is also this is an easy record to love.

Great Big Sea blend traditional Newfoundland folk music with modern pop anthems to create something that is filled with fun and makes you want to laugh, dance and sing along. “Play” is them at the height of their powers. Consider that this is a folk record that went triple platinum in Canada. Granted, the nineties were very kind to Canadian folk music (the Rankin Family was also busting up the charts) but it is still quite an achievement.

Most of the time an album this popular is destined to be terrible, but with “Play” Great Big Sea beats the trend with music that is played with gusto and unbounded joy. You hear these guys and you basically want to hang out in a pub with them all night.

The record is about two-thirds traditional songs and covers, treated with Great Big Sea’s particular blend of folk-pop. This involves a lot of energy, singing in unison, and lots of tin whistle, fiddle and accordion to give it whimsy or a mournful undercurrent as the song demands.

The arrangements tend to be fast and furious, sometimes aided by the only drum that belongs in music like this – the bodhran. Despite the speed and intensity the band never feels rushed. They are masters of riding the front of the pocket, like a surfer hanging ten on a big wave.

The best of the covers is the traditional “Recruiting Sargeant” which tells the tragic story of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment (aka the Blue Puttees) who fought in World War One. The song’s narrative takes us from the exhortations of the King’s recruiters through the terrible tragic losses the regiment encountered at Gallipoli and the Somme. The song artfully juxtaposes the promised glories of battle, complete with the martial beat of the bodhran:

“So it's over the mountains, and over the sea

Come brave Newfoundlanders and join the Blue Puttees

You'll fight the Hun in Flanders, and at Galipoli

Enlist you Newfoundlanders and come follow me”

With the horrible realities of war, underscored by the mournful tin whistle:

“Then the call came from London, for the last July drive

To the trenches with the regiment, prepare yourselves to die

The roll call next morning, just a handful survived.

Enlist you Newfoundlanders and come follow me”

This damned song puts a lump in my throat every time.

I also enjoy “Donkey Riding” which is not about an actual donkey, but rather a steam powered winch used at the turn of the century in logging and marine industry. It isn’t for riding, but the song ably captures the fact that young men often do foolhardy things. It’s a miracle any of us make it to thirty.

While Great Big Sea has always embraced traditional Newfoundland folk music and history, they write a pretty ditty themselves when they’re of a mind. The album opens with “Ordinary Day” which is a song that reminds us “it’s just an ordinary day/and it’s all your state of mind.” Very true, and when you hear the song your spirit is inclined to see an ordinary day as pretty damned fine.

I definitely over-listened this record in the day and as a result I rarely put it on anymore. Despite this, when the Odyssey gods called its number it wasn’t boring or tired and even though I feel like I know every note and word on the record, it didn’t detract in any way from my joy at hearing them all again.

Best tracks: Ordinary Day, When I’m Up (I Can’t Get Down), The Night Pat Murphy Died, Donkey Riding, Recruiting Sargeant, Jolly Roving Tar

CD Odyssey Disc 1230: Sunflower Bean

I am at the front of what is promising to be a delightful long weekend. Today I got things kicked off with brunch with the #1 love of my life (Sheila), and then went shopping for the #2 love of my life (music). It was a good day at the CD store where I came away with a treasure trove of new albums, and one disappointment. A quick recap – full details to come in a forthcoming review.

• Cub’s “Betti-Cola”. I bought this because Neko Case plays drums on it, which is kind of cool. (1993)
• Doug Paisley’s “Starter Home” (2018)
• Mandolin Orange’s “Tides of a Teardrop” (2019)
• Lula Wiles’ “What Will We Do” (2019)
• Joe Jackson’s “Look Sharp (1979)
• Gang of Four’s “Entertainment! (1979)

I also thought I had bought Delinquent Habits’ first album, but the disc inside was not the correct album so I’ll be returning that tomorrow.

More on those records when I roll them. OK – on to the review!

Disc 1230 is… Twentytwo in Blue

Artist: Sunflower Bean

Year of Release: 2018

What’s up with the Cover? The band, channeling different eras. From left to right Julia Cumming looks like a twenties socialite, Nick Kivlen looks like a sixties mod and Jacob Faber has opted for early eighties douchebag.

How I Came To Know It: I read a review of this album somewhere and even though it didn’t sound like my usual kind of music, I decided to check out their single, “Twentytwo”.  I fell into them from there.

How It Stacks Up:  I only have this one album, so there is nothing to stack it up against.

Ratings:  4 stars

When I bought “Twentytwo in Blue” I expected it to be the only Sunflower Bean album in my collection, but over the past couple of days this record has so thoroughly charmed me that I am going to have to go listen to their other releases and give them another chance.

Sunflower Bean is a trio from New York that plays a mix of guitar rock and dream pop. While the production is very 2018, with layers upon layers of crisp sound, the music feels heavily influenced by many musical eras, notably early sixties crooners and late eighties pop.

When the band rocks out, as they do on songs like “Burn It” and “Human For,” they don’t deliver much crunch, but that isn’t what they are going for. It is more of eighties punk crossed with late sixties Who. It doesn’t have a lot of bottom end in it, but it doesn’t lack for energy.

When they play a bit lighter is when they really shine, with songs that whirl whimsically about and make you feel like you are strolling through an English garden or maybe at a high school dance in an eighties romantic comedy. The songs have a dreamy quality, but they don’t fuzz out like so much dream-pop does, instead staying crisp and organic.

Both Julia Cumming and Nick Kivlen sing, but Cumming is the star of the show. Her voice sounds innocent and sweet, with just the right amount of sadness around the edges. She also has a lot of range, with a rich tone in her lower register and an airy angelic quality when she climbs up into her head voice. These songs seem simple and carefree in her hands, but they are a lot harder to sing along to than you’d expect. Believe me, I tried.

The album’s crowning jewel, “Twentytwo” is Cumming at her best. She puts her combination of innocence and experience to good use on a coming of age song that is an exploration of what young adults expect of one another, what society expects of them, and the tension that exists between these expectations.

Kivlen’s vocals are not nearly as revelatory, but the band wisely uses his light, slightly raspy delivery as either background accompaniment or as the occasional foil to Cumming, rather than her equal partner. He gets his best moments on “I Was a Fool” trading verses with Cumming, trading gentle and rolling melodies on a song that had me thinking of Fleetwood Mac in their prime.

Thematically, the album feels very young. I was reminded of the combination of uncertainty and optimism that exists in your early twenties. “Memoria” is about lost love, and “Crisis Fest” is a song that is part-lament for the state of America and part call to action. It’s also catchy as hell, with sing-along protest lines and the mother of all participation decisions in music – the handclap!

The album fades a little on Side Two, with songs that are a less catchy and more atmospheric than Side One but they also serve as a pleasant fade-out to the record, leaving you with a sort of echo of the good time you had, like a good sleep after a long day at the beach.

Another minor quibble was the album’s liner notes, which are printed in blue on a black background and utterly unreadable. The lyrics are all there – I assume – but the colour combination and the use of what I assume is some font in 6 point makes it hard to be sure.

Earlier this year I shared my top ten albums of 2018 and while “Twentytwo in Blue” didn’t make the cut, I think it is fair to say it lands at #11.

Best tracks: Burn It, I Was a Fool, Twentytwo, Crisis Fest, Memoria, Only a Moment

CD Odyssey Disc 1229: Eddie Vedder

I often refer to this blog as my pilot light. It isn’t my best writing, but when I’m not penning the next Great Canadian Novel, it keeps my brain engaged creatively. It takes me about an hour to knock out a review and after a hard day of using my brain for worky-work, that’s about right.

Every now and then I get an extra spurt of creative energy, as I did yesterday when I came up with a new short story. I’ll keep working on that as well, but you won’t read it here – I only give away music reviews for free. If you want my other writing, you gotta pay me.

Disc 1229 is… Ukulele Songs

Artist: Eddie Vedder

Year of Release: 2011

What’s up with the Cover? Davey Jones’ personal secretary attempts to figure out how to type up a memo for the boss when he can’t even keep the paper dry.

How I Came To Know It: I am a big Pearl Jam fan so when I read a review of this side project of Eddie Vedder’s I decided to check it out

How It Stacks Up:  I have two Eddie Vedder solo albums – this one and his soundtrack to “Into the Wild” released in 2007. Of the two, I’ll give “Ukulele Songs” the edge.

Ratings:  3 stars

Given Eddie Vedder’s love of surfing and all things Hawaii we shouldn’t be surprised that he decided to do an album full of ukulele music. We should be surprised it took this long and ended up being this good.

It would have been easy for Vedder – who isn’t lacking for cash – to mail this in as a vanity project and call it a day. Instead, he shows a true dedication to the genre, creating a set of heartfelt ukulele numbers.

The album is composed roughly of 2/3 original compositions and 1/3 traditional standards and it is a testament to Vedder’s writing that apart from songs I happened to already know, I couldn’t tell which was which. Listening to “Ukulele Songs” I hope one day some guy on a Hawaiian beach 80 years from now, playing a Vedder original, after it too had become a standard.

The songs have simple themes, principally around damaged love, and evoke a wistful tone that speaks of knowing heartache yet finding a way to let that grief settle comfortably around you. Vedder’s crooning are the mournful wind of loss blowing across the sand at night, and the ukulele is the campfire keeping the centre of the song warm and reassuring. It creates a beautiful balance.

Vedder remains one of rock’s great vocalists, but on “Ukulele Songs” anything too powerful would overwhelm the simple understated tone on the record. Instead, he wisely opts to let his voice gently lilt in accompaniment to his instrument of choice. His trademark vibrato is still there, but it is a bit more relaxed and sweeter than we’re used to hearing.

As for the ukulele playing, I’m no expert but it sounds competent and heartfelt, although a far cry from mastery. The tone lacks a bit of the softness around the edges overall, although on the short instrumental “Waving Palms” Vedder rises to the occasion. Other than that song he doesn’t blow me away, but he does successfully harness the light pluck the instrument needs to work its sprightly magic. Could it be better? Yes, but the authenticity of his playing is more important for these songs than any virtuosity.

The album is 16 songs long, which is at least two songs too many. The overall album length is a restrained 34 minutes but keeping your album to 14 songs maximum isn’t just about overall playing length, it is also about letting the mind focus in on each song. Here I found the combination of very short songs and the large number of them made focusing on individual tracks difficult. Maybe that was the point, but I would have preferred Vedder’s 12 best, rather than his 16 favourites.

Overall, this is a record I put on when I need some calm in my life. It is gentle and joyful, despite its sometimes sad subject matter, and well worth a listen and – dare I say it – a lightening of your wallet. Think of it as a restorative trip to Hawaii in the dead of winter, only much less expensive.

Best tracks: Can’t Keep, Sleeping By Myself, You’re True, Sleepless Nights, Waving Palms, Tonight You Belong To Me (that’s 4 Vedder songs and 2 covers if you are keeping score…)

CD Odyssey Disc 1228: Jethro Tull

After a long day at the office I spent the first part of my evening shoveling snow. I love the feel of a winter wonderland when it snows, but after a few days of it, I could do without the shoveling.

Disc 1228 is… Crest of a Knave

Artist: Jethro Tull

Year of Release: 1987

What’s up with the Cover? It’s…the crest of a knave. This particular crest is a fraidy-cat sable on a field of azure and argent. I assume this particular noble is a cousin to brave brave Sir Robin.

How I Came To Know It: My friend Chris played some tracks off of this album at a recent music night and I liked what I heard. Then he went one step further and gave me his copy of the CD (he is now a vinyl devotee so CDs are either too old school or too new school, depending on your perspective).

How It Stacks Up:  I have five Jethro Tull albums. I’m not sure how that happened, but for the most part I blame Chris. I like “Crest of a Knave” a lot, but I’m going to put it in at #2 and leave a little space at the top.

Ratings:  4 stars

It is not every day that a record could best Metallica in its heyday to win music’s most prestigious honour – a Grammy – but that’s exactly what Jethro Tull’s “Crest of a Knave” did, beating out “…and Justice For All” for best hard rock album.

Just kidding! The Grammys aren’t music’s most prestigious honour; they’re shite and have been for years. Also, “Crest of a Knave” is not a hard rock album. It’s more of a cross between synth-rock and prog-rock. The beating Metallica part is true, though. The Grammys may have a hundred different categories but that doesn’t mean they can’t consistently fail to nominate albums in the right ones.

But enough about how much the Grammys suck!* Let’s talk about “Crest of a Knave” which despite winning an award in the wrong category is still a fine record.

While for most of the sixties and seventies Jethro Tull was a mix of progressive rock with a dash of traditional English folk, in the eighties they discovered a more synth-driven sound and their music took a different turn. By 1987, Jethro Tull had balanced out all that synthesizer with more traditional instrumentation the sensibility remained. This was made easier by the ever-present flute in all their music, which is the synthiest of the woodwinds.

Balancing those ethereal sounds is guitarist Martin Barre, who shows off some inspired playing. His tone is reminiscent of Mark Knopfler and if you are going to sound too much like someone else on the guitar, you couldn’t pick any better than Knopfler. Barre has some fine solos on the record, particularly the bluesy meanderings he displays on “Said She Was a Dancer”.

 “Said She Was a Dancer” is the star of the record, a song about a chance encounter with a Russian woman that is less romantic than the narrator would have hoped for. The song walks a fine line between mystery, romance and some self-effacing humour from a man who is getting played by a lady out of his league but enjoying every minute of it.

The theme is explored further with “Hot Night in Budapest” which is twice and long and sees the narrator twice as successful as well. Again, the song is heavily reminiscent of Dire Straits in its base groove, before departing down more proggy side paths of jazz flue and creative syncopation.

Lyrically the record is sneaky good, with Anderson delivering many a clever turn of phrase. “Said She Was a Dancer” ends with:

“So I stole one kiss, it was a near miss. She looked at me like I was Jack the Ripper.

She leaned in close. “Goodnight” was all she said

So I took myself off to bed.”

Missed it by that much!

“Mountain Men” is a love song from Anderson to his native Scotland, starting the song with:

“The poacher and his daughter throw soft shadows on the water in the night

A thin moon slips behind them as they pull the net with no betraying light.”

Instantly you can feel yourself grounded in the scene and as the song unfolds Anderson’s love for his homeland becomes more and more clear. The song feels heartfelt throughout without ever feeling contrived or emotionally manipulative.

Anderson is a natural story teller, although I sometimes found myself wishing his elfin vibrato vocal had a bit more gravitas. While this is part of what makes Jethro Tull’s sound, on an album designed with such a lush soundscape he sometimes sounds a bit thin by comparison.

This is a minor quibble though, and overall “Crest of a Knave” was an enjoyable listen, melodically interesting, lyrically engaging and featuring some fine work on both the guitar and the flute.

*while I maintain the Grammys suck, a big shout out to two of my favourite artists who overcame the usual bad decisions made there to win one this year – Brandi Carlile and St. Vincent!

Best tracks: Said She Was a Dancer, Budapest, Mountain Men, The Waking Edge

CD Odyssey Disc 1227: The Sword

Let it snow! It is snowing hard in my part of the world, which doesn’t happen very often. I kind of like the snow, as long as it doesn’t stick around too long. After about a week I’ve pretty much had it with shoveling the sidewalk, for example.

Anyway – on with the next album review!

Disc 1227 is… Gods of the Earth

Artist: The Sword

Year of Release: 2008

What’s up with the Cover? Lo, even though their temples be smashed to rubble, the Gods of the Earth shall rise up! Lightning shall illuminate the sky over the Canyon of the Ancient Ones! Also…there shall be a sword! A shiny one!

How I Came To Know It: Youtube recommended the band to me and once I was on to them, “Gods of the Earth” came along as I drilled through their back catalogue.

How It Stacks Up:  I have four Sword albums. Of the four, I rank “Gods of the Earth” last, but even at #4 I still really like it. As this is the final Sword album in my collection, here is a full recap:

1. Warp Riders: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1165)
2. Apocryphon: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1138)
3. Age of Winters: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 1055)
4. Gods of the Earth: 3 stars (reviewed right here)

Ratings:  3 stars

If you thought the album cover for “Gods of the Earth” was heroic, wait until you hear about the music. This is “majesty of rock” action right down to the core and while it doesn’t quite have the same standout singles as my favoured Sword albums, it rocks just as hard.

I listened to this album while walking home in a blizzard. The last time I listened to an album coming home in a blizzard it was Big Daddy Kane (Disc 1108, if you are inclined). I almost wrecked my MP3 player that day as I insisted on pulling it out in the snow and looking at each song title on the walk.

I was determined to avoid this mistake today, so I put the Walkman into my jacket’s breast pocket where it would stay both warm and dry. This, plus the Sword’s propensity to ROCK OUT at equally awesome levels throughout a record, had me losing my place on the album.

It turns out…this was kind of fun. It made the record feel even more like a cohesive whole. It also kept me firmly connected to the band’s churning crunch without giving my frontal lobes a chance to be part of the conversation. They would have just waxed poetic anyway. More on that later.

But first, another tip of my hat to the band. At the forefront of the New Wave of Traditional Heavy Metal – the Sword show that you can honour traditional musical forms and still sound fresh and current.

What’s more, these guys are a true ensemble. JD Cronise’s vocals have a nice throaty power, but they aren’t going to shatter any glassware. Kyle Shutt’s guitars are thick and confident, but he doesn’t shred solos often. Instead, the two of them (plus drummer Trivett Wingo and bass player Bryan Richie) play as an ensemble, creating a rich power pocket that lurches inexorably forward like a tank across a muddy field of battle.

When I got out of the blizzard, I was able to pay a bit more attention to what these songs are about. Like Iron Maiden before them, The Sword revel in tales of epic fantasy. “The Frost Giant’s Daughter” takes its title and most of its plot from an original tale of Conan the Barbarian, as a man chases a beautiful but dangerous giantess across the tundra. “To Take the Black” is straight out of George R.R. Martin’s “A Song of Ice and Fire” about the members of the Night Watch who forsake their former lives to guard a wall against the undead.

Both “The Frost Giant’s Daughter” and “To Take the Black” are filled with equal amounts of heroic derring-do, even though the first one is someone risking his life trying to get laid, and the second is about a bunch of guys risking their lives while agreeing to never get laid again. Hey, heroism is complicated.

My personal favourite title is “Fire Lances of the Ancient Hyperzephyrians.” I have no idea who the Hyperzephyrians were, but it all sounds Terribly Important:

“Our legends tell of weapons

Wielded by kings of old

Crafted by evil wizards

Unholy to behold.”

Hmmm…I hope those fire lances come with a warning on the label, like “not recommended for nobility below the level of king” or “behold at own risk”. But I digress.

I liked “Gods of the Earth” best when it delivered a mid-tempo crunch and a bit of groove, less so when it got frantic and busy and sacrificed melody for crunch. Even in full gravel-mixer mode, though I couldn’t deny the band’s energy. These guys rock out and they sing about the kind of cool-assed stuff that appeals to the fifteen year old Dungeon Master in all of us. Well, in me anyway.

Best tracks: The Frost Giant’s Daughter, How Heavy This Axe, Maiden Mother & Crone

CD Odyssey Disc 1226: Amelia Curran

I had a nasty cold for the first half of the week but it has receded just in time for the weekend. Huzzah! My MP3 player also had a cold this week, mysteriously dying Thursday afternoon only to be successfully revived this morning with a reset. I had a brief spell of panic, but such are life’s perils for the music lover.

Disc 1226 is… Watershed

Artist: Amelia Curran

Year of Release: 2017

What’s up with the Cover? A part of Amelia Curran’s head, coloured in soothing blue tones. I like it.

How I Came To Know It: I read a review of this album in a folk music magazine (Penguin Eggs, I believe) and decided after hearing a couple of songs it was worth a try.

How It Stacks Up:  Amelia Curran has eight studio albums but only two caught my attention sufficiently to warrant a purchase. Of those two, “Watershed” is the lesser record. This puts it last in my collection but second best if you consider six albums didn’t even make the cut.

Ratings:  3 stars

“Watershed” is like a gentle mid-summer rain; a bit sad, but with a warmth that makes more soothing than depressing.

The record straddles the worlds of alternative country and pop, and it had me thinking alternately of Mary Chapin Carpenter and Aimee Mann depending on which tradition a particular song was cleaving to. Her vocals have the same smooth, low register delivery of both those artists, and a slight bluesy element to the delivery. Regrettably, I often found myself wishing I was listening to either of those artists instead.

There is nothing wrong with Curran’s vocals. She isn’t a powerhouse, but she writes songs that fit it well, and the tone of her voice is rich and conversational. There are moments where I wish she’d chosen a different phrasing, but for the most part she sings with a relaxed confidence that sits down comfortably in the pocket and tells you a story.

When the songs stray to the pop side of the equation, which they do a fair bit, they tend to lose their gravitas. There are moments on “Watershed” where it felt like the music was just a smooth inoffensive back drop, like something you’d hear in the background at an upscale urban lounge. This might be good for some, but for me music should be centre stage, not part of the scenery.

When she switches to a more folk-country style it is a definite improvement, and in these songs she sounds uncannily like more recent Mary Chapin Carpenter. I love Carpenter, and Curran’s songs are just as good melodically. Lyrically, they didn’t always grab me as much however, with imagery that felt comfortable but didn’t hold my attention. I’d recall an example but…like I said.

The best song on the album is “Sunday Bride” and it is a good one. With a smooth jazz style backbeat, and a lilting melody that showcases Curran’s voice at her best, I suspect this song was a big reason I bought the album in the first place. “Sunday Bride” also juxtaposes a mournful Aimee Mann like vocal performance with some accomplished electric guitar work from Dean Drouillard.

There are plenty of reasons to like “Watershed” and the 3 stars I’ve given it isn’t me having a soft moment – Curran earns it. It is just that apart from a couple of stand out tracks, I don’t see myself putting this album on over other similar music already in my collection. And so I will reluctantly let this one go and save the shelf space.

Best tracks: Watershed, Sunday Bride, Act of Human Kindness, Stranger Things Have Happened

CD Odyssey Disc 1225: Okkervil River

After feeling a bit off on Sunday I awoke Monday to a raging cold and it has been hitting with a vengeance ever since. Argh. I’m trying to blink my way through my watery right eye long enough to get this review in the books.

Fun fact – this is my second straight review of an album released in 2013 and the last time I reviewed this next artist was also 2013. And yes, it was all totally random – thanks for asking.

Disc 1225 is… The Silver Gymnasium

Artist: Okkervil River

Year of Release: 2013

What’s up with the Cover? Getting work as a giant-bird man must not be easy, but this fellow has found a career in moving houses. He’s brought along his ghetto blaster for music, which is pretty common in that profession and his dead frog, which is less so.

How I Came To Know It: I am a pretty devoted Okkervil River fan, and tend to just buy their new albums as they come out. That’s what happened here.

How It Stacks Up:  I have nine Okkervil River albums which to this point is all of them. “The Silver Gymnasium” is solid, but only can manage 6^th best.

Ratings:  3 stars

“The Silver Gymnasium” is a lush combination of narrative tales and confessionals; the latest brain-child of lead singer and songwriter Will Sheff who has blended alternative rock, Goth and Americana into something all its own.

Early albums in the band’s discography are a lot more stripped down and folky, but “The Silver Gymnasium” follows the more ambient rock stylings of the band’s 2011 release “I Am Very Far” but with a brighter more up-tempo sound.

Much like my last review (Typhoon’s “White Lighter”) there is a lot going on here. The band has been through many iterations – this one has nine members, plus another seven sessionals adding such instruments as the glass harmonica, handclaps and (because the trumpet, trombone and flugelhorn weren’t enough) a saxophone. Overall, Sheff does a solid job of juggling all these musical options and I never felt like it was too lush, although it definitely approached that line in places.

In terms of standouts, you generally don’t think “radio single” when you listen to Okkervil River. Sheff adamantly refuses to conform to ear-pleasing melodies, favouring music to match the mix of melancholy and reverie that Sheff infuses into his lyrics. The closest he comes is “On a Balcony” which benefits from a soaring chorus and some well-placed horn flourishes. Sure, the protagonist is high on pills, fine wine and “something-and-soda” but it is a song that captures the crazy triumph of excess, even while recognizing the falsity of it all.

Over the years I’ve learned to trust Sheila’s ear for music and when she goes out of her way to praise a song I go out of my way to listen carefully. On “The Silver Gymnasium” that song is “Down Down the Deep River” and once again I was not disappointed. Like “On a Balcony” it has a triumphant sound riding on some well-placed horn. It has a mid-eighties groove and a youthful nostalgia that made me feel like I was back in high school. Then – just when I thought it couldn’t get better – the aforementioned handclaps make an appearance. Handclaps make every song better.

I didn’t particularly like the meandering and unfocused “Lido Pier Suicide Car” or how that phrase trips awkwardly off of Sheff’s tongue. “Walking with Frankie” tries to work a rockabilly beat into the album and it is a poor fit for the record, but these are exceptions. For the most part the record is smart and while it isn’t restrained, it has the good sense to stretch in the right places.

Lyrically, these songs are like a lush piece of narrative short-fiction and it takes a lot of listening and attention to follow along, but it is usually worth the effort.

The record ends with “Black Nemo,” a song that starts with a gently played guitar and piano piece that feels like a cool breeze after a late summer squall. The whole album is an exploration of coming-of-age experiences, and “Black Nemo” feels like a summary of the journey, rich and accepting and maybe a little regretful as each year has those memories farther and farther away. Or as Sheff sings it:

“In the fizzed-out snow of a cathode screen

I saw a broken ghost in an old soap scene.

I let his dead and dreamy eyes follow my eyes.

“And I had a vision of everything hidden but always around me.

It fought me. It found me while going away, floating away on the tide.

Shooting through time with my eyes getting glassy and lined,

While I watch seasons rocketing past me.

They’re going away – a little more every day, all the time.”

The song pulls in both imagery and musical elements from the ten that came before it, making you feel like you’re at the end of a dreamy vacation to a youthful time when things were slower, and everything seemed to mean a little more. And in a way, you are. Way to end on a blue note, Mr. Sheff.

Best tracks: On a Balcony, Down Down the Deep River, Where the Spirit Left Us, Black Nemo

CD Odyssey Disc 1224: Typhoon

I’m right in the middle of a very busy weekend of activity. Today I managed to squeeze in a quick trip to the record store where I found one album that was on my wish-list (Phoebe Bridgers’ “Stranger in the Alps”) and took a chance on another one (“The Unforgiving Sounds of MAOW” MAOW was an early project of Neko Case that I’m excited to explore.

But first, here is my next review. For the third album in a row we have more pop music.

Disc 1224 is… White Lighter

Artist: Typhoon

Year of Release: 2013

What’s up with the Cover? Dr. Rorschach: “Look into the inkblot and tell me what you see.” Me: “I see a moth, Dr. Rorschach.” Rorschach: “Why do you think you see a moth?” Me: “I don’t think I see a moth, I see a moth because there’s a moth, right there, sitting in your inkblot. I think your slide needs cleaning.”

How I Came To Know It: I read about this album on a “Top 100 Indie Folk Albums of All Time” article. I got a lot of great music through that article and I used to link to it, but the page got very buggy, so I’ve stopped doing so.

How It Stacks Up:  I have two Typhoon albums. Of the two, “White Lighter” is the better record so it ranks…#1.

Ratings:  3 stars but almost 4

There is a lot going on in Typhoon. “White Lighter” is an album replete with great musical ideas. When it works it is complex and inspiring, and when it doesn’t it is usually because they are trying to jam one too many concepts into a song that is already at maximum carrying capacity.

There are 11 members in this band and yet – strangely – the music isn’t even remotely ska-like in flavor. Instead it is like a mini-orchestra, mixing traditional rock instrumentation with a horn section, a string section and a bunch of other seemingly random things that they throw into the auditory soup.

As you might expect from a band with 11 people in it, this is not simple straightforward indie pop. The songs are filled with layers of sound, multiple bridges, change-ups and complicated arrangements. They all know what they’re doing and things never get muddy like they might in the hands of lesser musicians. However, the sheer weight of things going on still threatens to tilt the whole structure over.

When I liked them they reminded me of Ages and Ages with uplifting choral sections, and splashes of string and horn that provide the songs’ emotional underpinnings. When I didn’t like them they reminded me of Arcade Fire, with too many flourishes and a penchant for throwing in something weird into the mix like a xylophone that delivers a hint of smirky clever, but no emotional underpinning.

This is important, because band leader and principal songwriter Kyle Morton clearly sees this band as having an emotional resonance at its core. You can tell by the anguish in his voice and the way he’ll repeat phrases to underscore how serious he is, like on “Possible Deaths” where he looks at the stars and mournfully repeats “it burned out 500 million years before I saw it.” A good line once, but a bit overwrought on multiple iterations. My advice: say your great line once and then go write a different one.

But this is part of Typhoon’s sound, building a mood through musical and lyrical repetition and then shifting both to pull you through a song’s emotional journey. When it works it puts a knot in your throat. When it doesn’t work it feels manipulative. I felt equal measure of both.

On the plus side, you have “Young Fathers” with a mindful exploration of the mistakes and doubts and confusion we absorb as children and pass down as adults:

“I was born in September

And like everything else I can’t remember

I replaced it with scenes from a film that I will never know.

“When I blinked it was over

I was thinking my life would get slower

That I would sort this shit out when I’m sober.”

On the negative side you have the self-absorbed “Hunger and Thirst”

“Caught pining for the things that I could have been

I could have been a gold digger

I could have been a gunslinger

I could have been a little bigger

I could have been my own ringer

I could have been a pop singer (x3)

But what I am is the silence.”

Yes, Morton sings that one line three times which is ironic, given that he is a pop singer, but if that’s the point he’s making then it is a bit too on the nose.

For all the things that frustrated me about “White Lighter”, the record is a beautiful – if overly-ornate – collection of music. I expect it was a critical darling and for many it would earn an easy 4 stars. I would have been happier with a 10% less maudlin and if two or three band members took a few songs off but now and then but overall it is still a solid record.

Best tracks: Young Fathers, Morton’s Fork, Possible Deaths, Dreams of Cannibalism, Common Sentiments