CD Odyssey Disc 1363: John Moreland

I was feeling a little down as I was walking home today when by mere chance I ran into – at a safe distance – a friend! With all this self-isolation I had forgotten how good that feels.

Disc 1363 is…. In the Throes

Artist: John Moreland

Year of Release: 2013

What’s up with the Cover? Smart little fixer upper in up-and-coming part of old Innsmouth! Blessed with original paint, and mostly unbroken windows. Large concrete emplacements protect against mad car bombers. Neighbours (pictured) are so charming they just spontaneously come over and sit on your stoop – you’ll be more than glad to lend them a cup of sugar or a butcher knife. Hauntings of their previous victims ensure this home is truly filled with character(s), day and night!

How I Came To Know It: I really liked Moreland’s 2020 release “LP5” so I decided to dig back through his catalogue, and eventually made my way to “In the Throes”.

How It Stacks Up:  I have three John Moreland albums, with designs on a fourth (still digging for 2015’s “High On Tulsa Heat”). Of the three I do have, “In the Throes” comes in at #2.

Ratings: 4 stars

When you’re feeling a little down John Moreland may be what you need, as long as you’re ready for a good wallow. His music will make you feel like you’re standing at a crossroads, not sure if you’re lost or just waiting for the devil to show up and teach you guitar. Sorry about that strained metaphor, that Robert Johnson sticks with you…

Anyway, Moreland is not a bluesman. He’s more of a country/folk storyteller, armed with a sharp pen, an acoustic guitar, and a voice like a gravel mixer. Every one of these elements is simple, pure and artfully delivered.

It all starts with that pen and Moreland’s talent for writing everyman lyrics that express a tense combination of endurance and doubt. These are songs for long stares into cold nights. Moreland is so good at making a few sparse, carefully chosen words bite with truth that you not only forgive the simplicity of it all, you welcome it.

Sometimes it manifests as an outward facing condemnation, as on “Nobody Gives a Damn About Songs Anymore”:

“I heard truth is what songs are for

Nobody gives a damn about songs anymore.”

You can listen to this song and get angry about the state of music, or the state of society in general. Maybe both. Moreland’s bite goes even deeper when he internalizes his frustration. On “God’s Medicine” he laments:

“And I recall when I thought I had a plan

The sun and moon and stars seemed to slip right through my hands

But remember that failure is part of being alive

I guess I let it take away my pride

One too many times.”

This is music for quiet desperation, but also gives that frustration voice. If you’re too damned tired to bitch, Moreland will do it for you on songs like this.

Singing this kind of thing could come off as maudlin, but Moreland’s vocals are rough-edged and real, and make you feel every word. It is the voice of a big burly man with a heart full of tenderness. Strong, vulnerable, and willing to talk about it.

The final ingredient is Moreland’s guitar, which he plays with a relaxed picking style that sits down comfortably into each song. Sometimes it plays in the background; a trusty companion to his singing. On songs like “Break My Heart Sweetly” it is an equal partner, with notes hanging in the air between lyrics, adding a bitter-sweet emotional undercurrent.

Reading all of this you might wonder why the hell you’d want to subject yourself to this kind of thing. The answer is it is beautiful and inspiring, even as you hear Moreland share a lot of doubts. And while he’s often filled with homespun existential dread, he also imbues these songs with a sense of hope. On “Gospel” he sings:

“I wanna set fear on fire and give dreaming a fair shot

And never give up whether anybody cares or not.”

Moreland isn’t saying he’s got the answers, but he’s not afraid to shout the question into the void. As a listener, you get inexorably drawn into this intensely personal journey. You come out the other side feeling calm, and even a little sad, but also resolute and ready to keep putting one foot in front of the other. And that’s the only way – short of making a deal with the devil – that anyone ever got past a crossroads.

Best tracks: Nobody Gives a Damn About Songs Anymore, Blacklist, Your Spell, Break My Heart Sweetly, God’s Medicine, Gospel, Blues & Kudzu

CD Odyssey Disc 1362: Robert Johnson

The weekend has ended and with it another NFL draft. My beloved Miami Dolphins got scooped on more than a few picks I coveted, but we still made off with 12 draft picks, including the much-vaunted Tua Tagovailoa at #5 overall. I hope he ends up being as good as advertised, because if he isn’t, I’ll be singing the blues.

Kind of like this next guy…

Disc 1362 is…. Robert Johnson: Reborn and Remastered

Artist: Robert Johnson and a bunch of other early blues legends

Year of Release: 2020

What’s up with the Cover? Does this man look like he just made a deal with the devil? Well…yeah. He kinda does.

How I Came To Know It: If you listen to rock and roll long enough, you’ll encounter the blues. If you listen to the blues long enough, you’ll encounter Robert Johnson. He’s like a devil at a crossroads at midnight; just waitin’ for you to show up in your own good time.

How It Stacks Up:  This is my only Robert Johnson album, but it isn’t really an album at all, it’s just a compilation of his singles. Either way, it can’t stack up.

Ratings: I don’t rate compilations and even though Robert Johnson never released a full-length album, I’m sticking to that approach.

When it comes to the blues, I’m more dabbler than fan. My collection holds some of the big names – Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker and Howlin’ Wolf – and I groove to each of them when the mood strikes me. I felt like something was missing, and so not knowing where to go next, I went with a classic original – Robert Johnson.

It isn’t hard to be a completionist when it comes to Robert Johnson, and this compilation comes close on a single compact disc. He only recorded 29 different songs, and this album has 20 of them. I don’t know which nine are missing, but I feel confident I can live without them.

This album may be “remastered” but all things are relative. When you’re talking about applying all the modern technical wizardry of the modern studio to something knocked out on a 78 in a hotel room via a single microphone, there’s only so much you can do. This stuff sounds tinny and raw throughout.

The raw is great; when it comes to the blues raw is what you want, and Johnson has a great voice for this style of music, as he yowls out about bad fortune and questionable choices. His guitar matches this perfectly, except for the fact the choices are anything but questionable. On first blush, it sounds like Johnson is missing half the notes in the song, but as you keep listening you realize it is deliberate. Sometimes the guitar lumbers drunkenly along, absent-mindedly hitting a note here and there. Sometimes it trips over itself in a flurry of notes. It feels very alive and organic, but underneath it all there is a structure, a natural flow. That flow is the blues.

The ‘tinny’ is not as enjoybable. I’m spoiled by the fifties and sixties recordings of those artists I mentioned earlier, who benefited from studio sound. Robert Johnson is the original garage punk sound. He clanks and clunks along, brilliant in its own right but maddening knowing that you’ll ever hear it better than what they managed on those few takes that still survive today.

As for lyrics, these songs are more about a vibe and a feeling than about a complex narrative, but Johnson still manages more than a few memorable lines.

One of my favourites is on “32-20 Blues” Johnson’s narrator has a dysfunctional relationship with a woman packing a .38 special (Johnson matching it with the titular .32 caliber firearm of his own):

I'm gonna shoot my pistol, gonna shoot my gatling gun
I'm gonna shoot my pistol, gotta shoot my gatling gun
You made me love you, now your man have come

Ah-oh, baby, where you stayed last night?
Ah-ah, baby, where you stayed last night?
You got your hair all tangled and you ain't talking right”

Like I said earlier, bad choices abound in a good blues song. Whatever the case, these songs are about characters that would be rough by today’s standards, never mind the 1930s.

My collection of Robert Johnson songs came with a bonus CD featuring Johnson’s contemporaries doing a few hits of their own. I was treated to Willie Brown, Son House, Sonny Boy Williamson and even an early Howlin’ Wolf track. This stuff was every bit as good as the Robert Johnson stuff, and is a great reminder of the amazing community of blues artists at that time.

Robert Johnson has one of music’s great legacies. He only has 29 songs, but my music collection is peppered with covers of those song. This includes three different covers of “Stop Breaking Down” (Lucinda Williams, the Rolling Stones, and the White Stripes). Every version is totally different, and each is great in their own way. That’s always the sign of a song with great bones.

Because of my production snobbery, I don’t put these originals on very often, but when I do I’m always reminded I should be listening to this more often. So thanks for all those great songs, Mr. Johnson, and thanks for everything that you helped to inspire that came after. I wish you could’ve lived to see it happen.

Best tracks: I Believe I’ll Dust My Broom, I’m a Steady Rollin’ Man, Come On In My Kitchen, Walking Blues, Rambling On My Mind, Preachin’ Blues (Up Jumped the Devil), They’re Red Hot, Stop Breakin’ Down Blues, Little Queen of Spades, From Four ‘Till Late, 32-20 Blues

CD Odyssey Disc 1361: Katie Pruitt

This week Fiona Apple released her new album, “Fetch the Boltcutters” to much critical acclaim. When I say ‘much’ I’m not even remotely close to the level of enthusiasm expressed; Paste Magazine gave it a 9.6 and Pitchfork outdid even that with a perfect 10. I’ve never been a big Fiona Apple fan but decided with ratings like those I better see what all the fuss was about.

Turns out the fuss was – as it often is with critical darlings – that the album was “brave” and “experimental”.  It was both these things and featured many a clever turn of phrase and thoughtful lyric (the album title not least among them). Just don’t expect a review of it to show up here. It was solid, but it wasn’t for me. I’m a little old school in that I think music should be played from the heart, and regardless of genre, it should move you.

On to a record which – despite getting a miserly 7.0 from both sources above – does just that.

Disc 1361 is…. Expectations

Artist: Katie Pruitt

Year of Release: 2020

What’s up with the Cover? It looks like someone has knocked all the stained glass out of a church window and let nature come streaming in, all laden with butterflies and sunflowers. The effect is…well, it’s beautiful.

Regardless of your views on religion stained glass can also be beautiful, so don’t go smashing it, unless you’re doing so metaphorically.

How I Came To Know It: I read a review and despite the relatively low rating, I decided to give it a shot.

How It Stacks Up:  This is Katie Pruitt’s first album, so not only does my collection not have anything to stack it up against, neither does anyone else’s. Unless you’ve got some random independent EP or mixed tape. That seems like it probably exists somewhere. Not here, though.

Ratings: 5 stars

Unlike “Fetch the Boltcutters,” Katie Pruitt’s “Expectations” is not experimental, but it is just as brave and then some. Pruitt lays her soul bare on this record, tapping into deep personal angst and experience, and a whole lot of love. In the process she has created a record with the power to move multitudes.

Pruitt’s style is rooted solidly in the contemporary Americana movement, blending rock, folk and country in a style heavily reminiscent of Brandi Carlile, with a dose of Patty Griffin thrown in. I mention those two singers fully aware that they are heavyweight vocalists, because Pruitt’s voice is every bit as glorious. She has the pure power of Carlile and the well-placed folksy warble of Griffin. She even demonstrates a slight rock growl when she opens up, which is a welcome addition.

This rock growl is even more noticeable on her live performances, and while present on “Expectations” the record generally opts for a light touch on the production, leaving lots of space. Sometimes the songs soar and expand into that space as they develop, and sometimes they are left empty, so the import of her message can sink in more quietly.

Pruitt is still young (26) but she has an old soul, and her debut album demonstrates the maturity of someone who has spent her time on planet earth well, figuring herself out. The songs are heavily influenced by her journey as a young girl growing up in a religious family in the American South (Georgia), coming to terms with her own beliefs and sexuality.

There are a lot of songs on this theme, and it would have been easy to wind up with an album lacking range, but Pruitt deftly avoids this. In part, she does this through varying the composition and tempo of the songs. They have a cohesive style, but within that style Pruitt explores different melodies, strum patterns and arrangements that keep you constantly attentive.

However, her big secret of success is no secret at all; she sings from the heart. Every song is a gut wrencher, and there were multiple times (even on later listens) they had me tearing up with emotion. These songs are deep in Pruitt’s bones, and as you listen, they sink into yours as well. I’ll never know what it feels like to grow up gay, working through all the doubts and fears of how to resolve that internally, let alone to a religious family. But listening to Pruitt is about as close an approximation you can get. Her songs are deeply empathic, and if empathy isn’t the first goal of art, I don’t know what is.

As best she can, Pruitt takes you on the journey with her, through songs of doubt like “Normal”:

“Stumbling around Athens frat boys were in hot pursuit

Left me staring at the ceiling pissed off and feeling used

Wasted and worn out and wondering where do I fit?

And scared as hell ‘cause I knew I was different.”

Through to songs of triumph like “Loving Her”:

“If loving her’s a sin I don’t wanna go to heaven

No there’s nothing up there that I could need.”

Pruitt’s vocals are perfect for the journey, quiet and confessional when needed, and big and brash as the story blossoms. It may be her personal journey, but these songs swell up under you like a wave and carry you with them.

While the record is intensely personal, there are plenty of universal themes. “Searching for the Truth” is for anyone who has ever felt heartbreak and “My Mind’s a Ship (that’s Going Down)” is about the lack of certainty we all feel as we make our way in the world.

Ultimately, all the themes are universal, because Pruitt does such a good job of inviting you in, it quickly feels like home. Don’t be afraid to go in there, either. Pruitt has created 10 powerful and songs sound painful on the surface, but deep down every one of them is about plain old love. And you don’t need a pair of bolt-cutters to access that. You just need three chords and the truth.

Best tracks: all tracks

CD Odyssey Disc 1360: Melissa McClelland

Fun fact: I reviewed another Melissa McClelland album just 12 reviews ago. It often seems in the random draw of what I listen to next that once the dice (I roll dice to choose) have alighted upon one artist they seem drawn to roll them again soon after.

Or maybe my stupid human brain just likes to see patterns where there are no patterns.

Disc 1360 is…. Thumbelina’s One Night Stand

Artist: Melissa McClelland

Year of Release: 2006

What’s up with the Cover? It’s a thimble! I believe this is also an ancient hobo signal for a house where you could get your pants hemmed.

How I Came To Know It: I can’t remember. On previous Whitehorse reviews I’ve claimed I discovered the band first, and from there found the solo work of Doucet and McClelland. That can’t be right, though, because I knew Luke Doucet’s solo work from seeing him front Blue Rodeo. Frankly, I’m a little confused about the sequencing of the whole thing. Did I know McClelland first? Did I look her up after I saw her name in a Whitehorse record? I don’t know, and frankly my previous reviews of the various bands involved demonstrate I can’t trust my instincts on this one either. Let’s just say I got to know her music and Whitehorse all around the same time about five or six years ago. Or as I like to call it, “when in doubt, retreat to vaguer ground.”

How It Stacks Up:  I have three Melissa McClelland albums, and this is the best one. Gold!

Ratings: 4 stars

What a difference a couple of years make. Only last month I was reviewing Melissa McClelland’s previous album, 2004’s “Stranded in Suburbia” and bemoaning the lack of focus. Turns out I was bemoaning the wrong thing. “Thumbelina’s One Night Stand” has just as many music influences on display – folk, rock, pop, jazz/lounge – but it all comes together in a cohesive whole. It’s a thin line between lacking focus and having ‘range’ but McClelland lands squarely on the good side of that line here.

How that mystical line gets drawn isn’t an exact science, but I think it starts with ‘voice’., I don’t mean McClelland’s vocal prowess, although she is an exceptional singer; versatile enough to handle any of the previously mentioned musical approaches. However, it is her sense of self that feels fully realized on this record. Rather than trying different song styles on for size, here it feels like she just sinks naturally into them. She still tells stories full of character and narrative, but now there is a piece of her at the kernel of each tale, giving it depth and making it real

The record begins with a great character. On “Passenger 24” a morally suspect truck driver goes from town to town, high on cocaine, shamelessly and creepily hitting on girls on both sides of the age of majority. Pretty far from McClelland’s own experience, but she sinks right into this raccoon-shooting miscreant.

It’s McClelland’s song, but you may also know it from her first Whitehorse record with music and life partner Luke Doucet. That version exchanges piano for electric guitar but for all the extra wattage, it doesn’t make it any grimier. Their both good, but I’ll take McClelland’s solo version any day.

From that gritty bit of nasty, she switches to gears to a Portuguese factory worker (“Iroquois Street Factory”) where she juxtaposes a blue-collar factory worker with a lounge jazz style. It shouldn’t work, but again the inner truth McClelland brings to it (along with some great lyrics) holds everything together.

By song three, she’s shifted to contemporary folk music, again without any protest on the ears. Her voice smooth and a little mournful, as befits a song about loneliness and quiet despair. McClelland’s songwriting is natural and loaded with internal detail, her narrator seeing a world of decay all around, as she sings:

“Quietly the visitors escape

And I am left alone to recuperate

From a dire expedition

And a fiery rendition

Of a humble life

Brooding just beneath the varnished pine

The wicked smell of death and turpentine

Well I’d offer up a flower

But my intentions have grown sour

And my tears have dried”

Luke Doucet produces McClelland for the second straight time, here seems to have a much better handle on McClelland’s sound than on “Stranded in Suburbia”. Everything feels a bit more understated, letting her songwriting talent shine through. The instruments are nice and easy in the mix, with McClelland’s vocals the star of the show, as they should be.

The record is a who’s who of Canadian folk-rock icons. In addition to Doucet producing, he plays both his signature guitar and a slew of other instruments. Blue Rodeo’s Greg Keelor, plus Justin Rutledge and Sarah McLachlan all stop in to provide backing vocals. None of them overshadow McClelland, although there is one awkward moment where Keelor throws in a refrain of “strange and beautiful are the stars tonight” on “Skyway Bridge”. I think he meant the line, which is pulled from his hit “Lost Together,” as an homage to McClelland’s song. Instead it comes off as self-conscious.

My only other gripe is that at 16 songs and 69 minutes, the album is both too long, and has too many tracks, including a double appearance of “You Know I Love You Baby” (the second being distinguished as the “Jeff Trott mix”). Both versions are good, but they are similar enough in sound and style that one would have been sufficient.

This is a minor quibble on a record that is so thoroughly engaging and emotionally resonant. So much so that even though I was finished listening to it on Friday, I refrained from reviewing it all weekend just so I could come back and give it another listen today.

Best tracks: Passenger 24, Solitary Life, A Price To Pay, You Know I Love You Baby, Come Home Suzie

CD Odyssey Disc 1359: Erin Durant

It’s only been a month, but I’m already jonesing to buy new music. Fortunately, I have a backlog of new stuff bought in happier days dating back to about last September, so there is still plenty of stuff to discover and rediscover. Here’s one of those.

Disc 1359 is…. Islands

Artist: Erin Durant

Year of Release: 2019

What’s up with the Cover? Not much. There are liner notes that when folded open also provide a full colour version of the picture. I can assure you it is no less boring in colour.

How I Came To Know It: I read reviews of this album on my two favourite online music magazines (Paste and Pitchfork) and while neither was effusive in its praise, the combination sufficiently intrigued me to dig a little deeper. And here we are.

How It Stacks Up:  This is my only Erin Durant album, so it can’t really stack up against anything.

Ratings: 4 stars

It’s been a lovely week of weather, culminating today in temperatures approaching 20 degrees Celsius, and so the relaxed, lyrical and languorous experience of Erin Durant’s “Islands” was the perfect soundtrack; a cure for the cares and worries in life.

Durant’s voice is a mix of whimsy and bird song, as she picks her way down a narrow path midway between folk and pop, flowers blooming on both sides of her as she goes. She isn’t a powerhouse singer by any stretch, but she has a sweetness in her tone that makes you want to lay down in a hammock and stare at the sky.

The album only has eight tracks but they take their time fully exploring their musical concepts, with songs routinely pushing close to or past the six minute mark. Durant allows herself to have two or three distinct movements in these longer tracks, and it serves to hold your attention for the time it takes her to tell her stories.

Those stories aren’t narrative epics by any stretch. They are little pastoral scenes, filled with journeys (both spiritual and physical) and more than a little casual alcohol consumption. On “Rising Sun” she sings:

“I’m so tired and a little drunk

Just want you to hold me

‘Till my time is up”

She follows this up on the second track (“Sand Dunes”) with “drinking my wine/On a Saturday night” and by Track Seven (“Islands”) she’s switched to the hard stuff and is “drinking margaritas/On a Saturday night.” The songs suggest evening drinking, but it feels more like a summer evening. The sun may be low in the sky and casting some doubtful shadows (Durant throws in more than a few doubts and worries into her lyrics), but it’s still warm and surrounded by her high lilt, making it all seem endurable.

The songs meander a little, but they are thought-provoking like a daydream, when you think deep thoughts but not with a particular focus.

The whole album has this cohesive feel to it, with the exception of “Winterlude” which stands out like a sore thumb. This one song is as wintry as the title implies, and while it only lasts for 2:42 it kicked me out of the moment. That may have been the idea, but it wasn’t a welcome jolt.

Fortunately, the next song, “Islands” has Durant back to reminiscing, as she recalls wandering the shores of the Gulf of Mexico. She also takes the opportunity to have another drink – this time it’s champagne.

“Islands” isn’t for everyone, and there are moments where I thought, “is this a bit too cute?” It wasn’t for me, but it might be for you. There are moments where the mix of soft horn, tinkling piano and Durant’s hyper-sweet vocals definitely cross into twee territory. I liked the experience, but if you need your music to have more gravitas than the occasional thump of a bass note on a piano, you might want to look elsewhere. The lady doesn’t mind a little yearning, but she’s not up for a full wallow.

There are also moments where she cuts her own melody early to introduce a new concept to the song. This is kind of like that break in the middle of Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan”; you can resent the interruption, or you can enjoy the extra layer it affords the overall experience. For both Durant and Coleridge, I find myself doing the latter.

It's a minor miracle that I bothered checking this record out at all. Pitchfork gave the record a lowly 6.7/10 and Paste only 7.4. for all that, halfway through the first notes of “Rising Sun” I knew I was hooked. It’s enough to make you wonder what the hell critics know anyway. Other than me, of course. You can trust me, gentle reader.

Best tracks: Rising Sun, Highway Blue, Good Ol’ Night, Islands

CD Odyssey Disc 1358: Thin Lizzy

Greetings gentle readers, and welcome to the final day of the Easter long weekend. I’m celebrating my complete inability to see other humans today by not using hair gel. I gotta save that stuff now that all the salons are closed.

Disc 1358 is…. Fighting

Artist: Thin Lizzy

Year of Release: 1975

What’s up with the Cover? The band looks like they are ready to fight. Weapons of choice include…a knife! ...a bat! …a pipe! And…crossed arms? I assume that guy with the crossed arms is a skilled enough pugilist that all he needs are his fists.

In any event, Thin Lizzy better hope they're not off to a gunfight. You know what they say, "never bring a knife, a bat, a pipe and crossed arms to a gun fight."

How I Came To Know It: I was introduced to most of Thin Lizzy’s back catalogue through my buddy, Spence. Spence even named his second daughter after the opening track on “Fighting”, “Rosalie”. I’m not often jealous of people who decided to have kids, but getting to name your kid after a song makes me mildly envious.

I’m not sure which way I would have gone if I’d had the chance. I like quite a few songs called “Annabelle” and that’s a good name. Or I could honour Blue Oyster Cult with “Vera Gemini” or “Debbie Denise”. Not great names but hey, Blue Oyster Cult. I like a songs about Joan Crawford and Joan of Arc (by Blue Oyster Cult and Leonard Cohen respectively) but it doesn’t go very well for either Joan, so probably not that….

Anyway, it doesn’t matter – I’m much happier not having kids. Maybe one of my friends will whimsically decide to let me name their next kid, but I don’t like my chances.

How It Stacks Up:  I have 10 Thin Lizzy albums. I’ll put “Fighting” in at #4, bumping both “Bad Reputation” and “Vagabonds of the Western World” down a spot in the process, and staying just a hair behind “Nightlife”. I view “Nightlife” and “Fighting” as equals, but that’s not the way “How it Stacks Up” works. Ask me next week and I may just switch the order depending on my mood.

Ratings: 4 stars

From 1974 through 1977 Thin Lizzy released one exceptional album after another – five in total. “I could happily pick among the five blindly and never be disappointed. Today we give “Fighting” the spotlight; the second released during that brilliant run, and Thin Lizzy’s fifth record overall.

The magic of Thin Lizzy starts with the brilliance of singer/bassist Phil Lynott. A born frontman oozing with aggression, sex appeal and a bottomless reservoir of cool. Lynott is the master of phrasing. On “Fighting” (which is much harder-edged record than the smoother-sounding “Nightlife” released the year prior) he gets to show a bit more snarl than usual giving him a slightly different sound, but no less amazing.

Lynott writes most (but not all) of the songs, but the other band members get in on the action to varying degrees. The opening track (“Rosalie” as noted above) is a cover of a Bob Seger song and is WAY better than the Bob Seger version. Sorry, Bob – you know I love ya). Thin Lizzy just gives the song the extra grit and groove that it needs.

And while Lynott’s vocal talents are on full display throughout, “Fighting” is also an album for anyone who loves the power and glory of the electric guitar. The twin talents of Scott Gorham and Brian Robertson do not disappoint. Whenever I see two lead guitars in a band I get nervous, but as with Judas Priest’s Glen Tipton and KK Downing, Gorham and Robertson are the perfect complement to one another. Both have amazing tone, and it feels like the guitar has just as many meaningful things to say as Lynott, no easy feat.

The best part of having two great guitar players is you don’t have to pick a favourite. Sometimes you get one, sometimes the other, and on the songs where they both play (“For Those Who Love to Live”, “Suicide”, “Wild One”) they elevate one another, giving the listener even more flavours and shades within a single song.

When things do go back to that smooth soul-rock of “Nightlife” like on “Spirit Slips Away” you get a brief reprieve from all those thunderous guitar riffs, but it comes right when you need it. A metaphorical chill out on the deck of a party before you return to rock and roll, refreshed and recharged.

After a little middle ground boogie woogie with “Silver Dollar” the album gathers its hard rock legs under it again with “Freedom Song”. There ain’t nothin’ more rock and roll than freedom and Scott Gorham’s guitar strikes the perfect balance for the concept: part ambling solo, and part low rumbling growl. Even though our song’s hero, Jack McDuff, gets hanged in the end, you are left with the uplifting feeling that freedom still wins. Jack dies free in mind and spirit, his last words exclaiming:

“I believe in the freedom song
Long live liberty!
I believe in the freedom song
Doesn't matter what you do to me”

The record ends with “Ballad of a Hard Man” which may be the record’s grittiest track, and this time it is Brian Robertson laying down some six-string truth (at least according to the liner notes). That struck me as odd, given the song was written by Gorham, but regardless of who is playing (and it did sound more like the slightly more hard-edged Robertson) it is a brilliant end to a brilliant record.

Best tracks: Rosalie, For Those Who Love to Live, Fighting My Way Back, Spirit Slips Away, Freedom Song, Ballad of a Hard Man

CD Odyssey Disc 1357: The Secret Sisters

My apologies for my reduced output of late, but it’s been one hell of a week. I take some comfort that the long weekend is just around the corner. I’m not feeling particularly witty as a result but you’re in luck; I wrote the “What’s up with the cover?” part of the entry before everything blew up. It was like a little humour Easter Egg waiting for me to find it tonight, just when I needed it.

Disc 1357 is…. Saturn Return

Artist: The Secret Sisters

Year of Release: 2020

What’s up with the Cover? The Secret Sisters do everything together. In fact, this is one single black dress. It is super inconvenient, but that’s how they roll.

Also, worth noting “Saturn Return” is not something we should be wishing on the earth. Saturn had six kids with his sister and then tried to eat them all which was super uncool on a number of levels.

And even if you’re just talking about the planet, Saturn returning to earth would also be a terrible state of affairs.

Anyway, the sisters look happy in the photo, despite the uncomfortable dress they’re sharing and the whole “Saturn eats his babies” thing.

How I Came To Know It: I was already a fan of the Secret Sisters, so when I saw they had released a new album, I bought it without a second thought. This was back when you could just walk into a record store and do such things. Remember that? Those were the days.

How It Stacks Up:  I have four Secret Sisters albums. Of the four, I put “Saturn Return” in at #4.

Ratings: 3 stars

One of my favourite things about the Secret Sisters is their timeless sound. Their stripped-down production and sublime tight two-part harmonies are a huge part of their appeal. “Saturn Return” retains the two-part harmonies, but the stripped-down production is gone in favour of a lusher sound.

Before I rail too hard against the production on this record, it is worth noting that the producers (Brandi Carlile and the Hanseroth twins) are among my favourite artists in their own right. In fact, Carlile and the Hanseroths produced the previous record (2017’s “You Don’t Own Me Anymore”) and that’s my favourite Secret Sisters record.

That said, they’ve definitely upped the pop elements and lowered the folk on their second collaboration. They still bring great production values to “Saturn Return”. It isn’t muddy or uncertain, and everything is nice and even in the mix, but I wanted a few fewer bells and whistles. On a general note, I find that often as artists become more established their production gets more complicated. My favourite theory for this is that they have more studio money to play with.

Fortunately, the Rogers sisters (their actual names are not the secret, fyi) have the same gifted vocals as ever, the same effortless range and the same sweet tones. They’re like a throwback to forties crooners, only singing contemporary folk. There are reasons I buy all their albums, and this is one of the main ones.

They are also gifted songwriters, although on Saturn Return I found the quality uneven. Worse is the album doesn’t lead with the strongest tracks. The opener, “Silver” is about how grey hair comes with old age, but so does wisdom. A relatively safe folksong topic, but the song’s chorus of:

“Look upon your mother and the silver in her hair

Consider it a crown the holiest may wear.”

Felt like a lot of forced rhyme and awkward structure in service of a metaphor with an insufficient payoff.

“Hand Over My Heart” is also indicative of excess cleverness. It is designed to use the title of the song as a phrase with an evolving meaning through the song. It accomplishes this, but I was left wondering if the effort was worth it. Also, the production here (with its synthy background) was too much for me. Not even well-placed hand claps could save the experience, even though hand claps, as everyone knows, make all songs better.

Four songs into my first listen I was questioning whether the record was shelf-worthy at all. A crisis was in the making.

Fortunately, everything was forgiven on Track Five. “Fair” is a stripped-down, tragic tale of how life just isn’t fair sometimes. The vocals are angelic, and a powerful counterpoint to the tale of a broken home. It explores the ugly truth that some people just get dealt better cards than others, as the narrator recalls a neighbour who drew a bad hand.

The other stand-out is equally depressing. “Nowhere, Baby” is a sad song about exactly that. The narrator works hard, endures hardships, and makes sacrifices, all to find themselves wondering why they’re no further ahead. It’s a tough listen, but tragic tales seem to bring the best out of the Secret Sisters on this record, and “Nowhere, Baby” is as good as the record gets.

“Saturn Return” is a record that in places is overwrought, but when it hits it delivers a gut-punch of emotional honesty that you forgive its earlier foibles. It isn’t where I’d start diving into their collection, but I wouldn’t avoid it either.

Best tracks: Fair, Tin Can Angel, Nowhere Baby, Water Witch

CD Odyssey Disc 1356: Matt Mays

My weekend started horribly, with news of a tragedy affecting a close friend of mine, made worse by the pandemic. So, I am in poor spirits, but I’m going to write this music review anyway. I hope it helps take my mind off life’s troubles, and I hope it does the same for you.

Disc 1356 is….Coyote

Artist: Matt Mays

Year of Release: 2012

What’s up with the Cover? Matt sits down on a very large coyote. I think sitting down on a coyote of any size is a poor decision but doing so on one this large seems exceptionally foolhardy.

How I Came To Know It: I seem to recall Matt Mays opened for Blue Rodeo at a concert and I heard him there. I didn’t buy his album from the merch table, but I had liked what I heard and when I saw this record in a store a few weeks later I took a chance.

How It Stacks Up:  Matt Mays has seven studio albums, but I’ve only got the one at this point, so it can’t really stack up.

Ratings: 4 stars

Artists always like to think they’re breaking new ground with each fresh album they release. “Coyote” does not break new ground; it is about as straight up, middle-of-the-road Canadian-style rock and roll as you can get. However, just because it’s driving in the center lane doesn’t mean it isn’t good – “Coyote” is a damned fine rock record, and the few complaints I have (to come shortly) are minor.

While this is straightforward rock and roll, Mays manages to find a lot of different dynamics and sounds within that genre. He mixes in straight ahead guitar crunch, with sparse, echoing piano bits and various other tricks and nuances. The production has a few more layers than I usually like, but they are blended so artfully I welcomed the experience.

Together it created a wall of sound that was more like mist than bricks; permeable and soft, and which lets you sink in with ease. Other “wall of sound” types could learn a few things here – there has to be a melodic path through your songs, or they’re just gonna sound like noise.

Mays’ vocals are raspy and melodic. They aren’t super emotive, but he knows what he does well and sticks to it. This involves a semi-choral soar that blends in nice with the rich production. You can hear every word if you pay attention, but the songs are just as pretty when treating his singing like just another sound in the symphony. The even mix reminded me favourably of Blue Oyster Cult (although not as good, obviously – let’s not get crazy here).

There are more than a few standouts, but I dig the guitar riff on “Drop the Bombs” in particular. With its laid-back churn it would make for great rural highway driving music. I don’t mean deep in the hinterland stuff though. Not Williams Lake to Prince George, or anything, but maybe Kamloops to Kelowna. It’s a little bit urban, a little bit country.

A couple of times (“Rochambo”, “Madre Padre”) Mays descends into experimental stoner rock, and in those moments he loses me. I will give full credit to “Rochambo” as a great song title, but if you’re going to go there then the song better do a better job of, you know, kicking me in the balls. Instead it has weird fuzzed out horn and reggae beats crossed with sixties psych. It doesn’t fit on the record and feels overly clever.

His sound fares better when it is “a little bit sad, a little bit stoned” which the album delivers on more than a few songs (and is a featured line in the chorus of “Stoned”).

The record ends with the stripped down, “Chase the Light,” a song about pushing on in darkness and never giving up hope that things will get better soon. It’s a good song for these troubled times, and so I’ll let it finish this entry with a few of its inspirational words:

“Further and further, until there's strange land
I can't let my shadow determine where I'll stand

Into the everlasting night
I'll chase the light”

Best tracks: Indio, Take It On Faith, Drop the Bombs, Slow Burning Luck, Stoned, Queen of Portland Street, Chase the Light