CD Odyssey Disc 1535: U2

Apologies for the absence, gentle readers. I’m burning the candle at both ends this week, and the result is very little down time for fun projects like this one. However, I have not forsaken you, nor my quest. Here’s the latest album – it’s an oldie, but a goodie.

Disc 1535 is…. The Joshua Tree

Artist: U2

Year of Release: 1987

What’s up with the Cover? Early CD experimentation, that’s what. The original vinyl album cover is a lovely shot of the band in front of a landscape. Here, we have just the band, all blurry, and with faces that look like they’ve been attacked by Head Crusher from Kids in the Hall. I expect there is some reissued version out there that sounds way better and has the proper cover, but I have the ‘original release’ with all its warts.

How I Came To Know It: This album came out when I was in high school, where it was immediately a Very Big Deal with the mainstream audience. Since I was almost exclusively into heavy metal back then, I didn’t think much of this record.

Years later when my musical tastes had expanded, a few different people started playing U2 for me, and I realized my mistake. It is a lesson I’m always relearning: just because it’s popular doesn’t mean it can't be good.

How It Stacks Up: I have five U2 albums. I used to have seven, but both 1980’s “Boy” (Disc 1009)  and 2004’s “How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb (Disc 106) weren’t up to snuff. “The Joshua Tree” is second best of what remains. I’ll give a full accounting when I review the final record in my collection (hint: only one to go…).

“Wait a minute!” U2 enthusiasts are currently shouting at their screens, “You don’t think “Boy” is a good record?” Sorry, enthusiasts, but much as the teenager in me would like to torment you with a recap, let’s get on with the task at hand, shall we?

Ratings: 4 stars

A lot has already been written about “The Joshua Tree.” Most of it is effusive praise and most of that is deserved. This is an iconic record not just for its time, but for all time. I’m sorry it took me a few years to realize it, but here I am.

From the first slow, building intro of “Where the Streets Have No Name” you know this record is going to swell and soar. U2 has managed to build a collection of songs that always tend to be climbing, but never quite cresting. The effect is to fill your body with energy and your spirit with a yearning for some kind of metaphysical resolution. For the most part these songs will instead leave you hanging, but you will love them for it.

As for that opening track, it is solid but not one of my favourites, maybe because I associate it with the years it was the pre-game tune at Vancouver Canucks games (go Bruins). Or maybe it just kind of cycles a bit too much. Objectively, it’s a great song and a well-earned hit, but for me things don’t get going for realsies  until “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” at Track Two.

Here the band does what they do best, blending that cycling guitar sound the Edge created and then perfected, Bono’s vocals peeling out with that ‘searching but not finding’ pang, and even a bit of rock and roll crunch around the edges. This one also has a great melodic drop with the chorus, making it clear that not finding what you’re looking for can still bring acceptance if you let it.

Despite critical effusions to the contrary, the record isn’t perfect (more on that later) but it does have a couple of perfect songs. The one everyone knows is “With or Without You.” I listened to this album in the car three times over the past week, but it wasn’t easy to resist just replaying “With or Without You” every time it came up. That opening line with Bono singing:

“See the stone set in your eyes
See the thorn twist in your side.”

Is pure heartache. It could come off as melodramatic, but Bono has the chops and delivery to make it real. Hearing it you feel like that woman’s cold stare is directed right at you, and the thorn is sticking in your midriff (n.b. – it was just my seatbelt). “With or Without You” is such a perfect song that it commits the egregious sin of the fade out and makes even that work.

The second perfect song is mostly for those who know the whole record (still a lot of people). “Running to Stand Still” is, like “With or Without You” another slow builder with power and heartache, and features some my favourite lines in all of music:

“You got to cry without weeping
Talk without speaking
Scream without raising your voice…”

If that’s not the perfect expression of quiet desperation, I don’t know what is. This song is also Bono’s finest vocal performance on a record that features many.

In terms of what holds the album back, the last four songs, from “Trip Through Your Wires” through to “Mothers of the Disappeared” are solid but fail to achieve the greatness of what comes before. On a record that soars with such beauty, this broader fade out near the end lands flat and unresolved. This is likely the intent, of course, and to maintain the level of songs like “With or Without You” and “Running to Stand Still” is functionally impossible. Still, I’m keeping it real and giving “The Joshua Tree” a loving and earnest 4 stars. Sorry-not sorry, enthusiasts.

Best tracks: I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For, With or Without You, Running to Stand Still, In God’s Country

CD Odyssey Disc 1534: Marissa Nadler

I’m just back from visiting my family out of town. When we make the trip, Sheila and I select five albums each for the car, and then alternate picking off the other person’s list as we drive. We usually get through about eight, and here are the ones we listened to this time around:

• London Grammar, Californian Soil
• Shaggy, Hotshot
• Eric B. & Rakim, Don’t Sweat the Technique
• Joe Jackson, Look Sharp!
• Leonard Cohen, Various Positions
• Jason Isbell, The Nashville Sound
• The Wooden Sky, When Lost at Sea
• The Streets, A Grand Don’t Come for Free

The trip also has a couple of lengthy ferry rides, so I had plenty of time to plug in the headphones and grok this next record in its fullness.

Disc 1534 is….  The Saga of Mayflower May

Artist: Marissa Nadler

Year of Release: 2005

What’s up with the Cover? A portrait of Ms. Nadler in a cameo style. She looks alluring and vulnerable with a hint of danger and mystery around the eyes. This combination is also a good summation of her music.

How I Came To Know It: I’ve been digging through Nadler’s back catalogue since about 2018. Her albums aren’t always easy to find on CD, and this one eluded me for quite a while. Then a few months ago I found second-hand copies of it and “Songs III: Bird on the Water” in my local record store and snapped both of them up.

How It Stacks Up: With the addition of these latest two records (and a subsequent decision to keep “Little Hells” (Disc 1284) despite my disappointment), I now have seven Marissa Nadler albums. This isn’t all of them (she has released 10) but it is all the ones I want. Of those seven, “The Saga of Mayflower May” comes in at…#1!

Ratings: 4 stars

If Edgar Allan Poe was reincarnated as a 21^st century female folk singer, the result would be Marissa Nadler. Like Poe her work is Gothic, moody and saturated with beautiful imagery that is slightly unsettling when seen in a certain light.

“The Saga of Mayflower May” is Nadler’s second studio release. The ethereal vocals and sparse echo that made her debut, “Ballads of Living and Dying” (reviewed back at Disc 1319) so enchanting are once again present, but the songwriting is noticeably better.

The album immediately immerses you in light guitar picking patterns that insistently return to the root note, creating an effect not unlike a burbling creek flush with spring runoff.  It is strongly reminiscent of early Leonard Cohen (Nadler would go on to cover Cohen’s “Famous Blue Raincoat” on her next record).

Soaring on top of that low guitar is Nadler’s elfin vocals. These are the vocals that you imagine hearing in the wind when you’re lost in the woods, full of mystery, majesty and more than a little dread.

One of the record’s best is “Mr. John Lee (Velveteen Rose)” a complicated love triangle between the song’s titular subject, his wife Marie and a third woman telling the tale. Like a lot of Marissa Nadler songs it ends badly for everyone, but it gets there with beauty and grace. The way the first stanza practically sighs, falling on a minor note as Nadler sings “I did not care for your wedding ring/But I did care…for Marie.” you get an early sense of the regret and tragedy will envelope these star-crossed lovers.

“Damsels in the Dark” follows; a perfectly succinct 94 second ditty about loss and parting of a woman swearing off her lover and all memory associated with them. Or as she sings it:

“Photographs of your face
Against the wind
Against the rain
I'm gonna burn them all
And bury your name.”

Nadler’s imagery is highly evocative throughout. On “Calico” she sings of a woman moving to the mountains “with a box of chisels sharp” and “a box of books so dark.” We don’t know specifically how that woman’s madness and melancholy will unfurl up in some isolated cabin, but your mind wanders dark passages seeking the answer nonetheless.

Like most of the songs on the album, you are never given a full explanation of what is happening to these characters. You see it all out of the corner of your eyes, feeling the emotional undercurrent of the experience more strongly than the main narrative. The effect keeps drawing you deeper and deeper on each listen, at first to divine the narrative of the tales, but eventually just for the delight in exploring the mysteries of the heart.

Best tracks: Mr. John Lee (Velveteen Rose), Damsels in the Dark, Lily Henry and the Willow Trees, Yellow Light, Calico

CD Odyssey Disc 1533: John McDermott

It’s the second straight review from 1999. I’d say that means tonight I’m going to party like it’s 1999, but I’ve had a hell of a long day and frankly, I’m knackered. Not too knackered to knock out a music review, however.

Disc 1533 is….  Old Friends

Artist: John McDermott

Year of Release: 1999

What’s up with the Cover? I feel like McDermott submitted this from a family holiday to the aquarium. The band of colour on the left-hand side is there to obscure an inquisitive sea lion hoping for a herring.

How I Came To Know It: I liked John’s 1992 album “Danny Boy” so when I saw this one many years later I gave it a chance. It helped that it had “Massacre of Glencoe” on it, which is one of my favourite folk classics.

How It Stacks Up: I have two John McDermott albums, and if you have been reading along you know which two. “Old Friends” is definitely the weaker of the two.

Ratings: 2 stars

Great singing has to hit all the notes no matter how hard, while making everything seem easy. On “Old Friends” John McDermott gets it half right. His voice is amazing, but he spends too much of his time very self-aware that he is SINGING. That alone can’t make your heart sigh.

There’s no denying McDermott’s got a set of pipes on him. This guy belts it traditional Scottish folk songs with the power of an opera singer. Listening to him en-nun-see-yate every word like he’s tasting an expensive single malt Scotch is a technical thrill, but I spent a lot of this record hoping he’d just cut loose.

Everything about this record screams “reserved and regal”. It feels like when you go to one of those special holiday events at some mansion or old castle. All the ladies have long dresses and all the gentlemen have suits and ties (and moreover, ties are required). There’s a whole lot of pomp and circumstance, and the booze is free, after you get past the obscene entry fee of course. And no matter how old you are, you find you’re the youngest person in attendance who isn’t behind the bar serving the sherry. At the top of the spiral staircase you spot a guy in tux belting out tunes. That guy is John McDermott.

On 1992’s “Danny Boy” McDermott lands a whole host of tear jerkers and heart-swelling tales of heroism upon the heath. I’ve had that record since around when it came out and I still pull it out from time to time when I’m feeling nostalgic.

“Old Friends” has a few moments of its own, notably “Massacre of Glencoe”. There aren’t a lot of songs that are the perfect intersection of tragedy and formal solemnity, but this is one of them. The song is the tale of the 1692 slaughter of the MacDonalds of Glencoe by order of King William III. I played it as I drove into Glencoe on a holiday in Scotland and I found it damned affecting. The chorus is a bit upbeat for my tastes, but when McDermott sinks into the verses you can feel him quivering with the rage of it all.

My favourite tune on the record is “Lachin Y Gair (Dark Loch Nagar)” which is a poem written by the Romantic poet George Gordon, Lord Byron, and set to music by his contemporary Henry Bishop. This song is a love song to Scotland and is the perfect belter for the overwrought power of John McDermott. He drops this thing like a bomb. Even the arrangements and production, that let so many other tunes on “Old Friends” down are perfect here. Of course, anything involving Lord Byron is great. I’m more of a Tennyson guy overall, but as far as the Romantics go, give me Lord Byron every day of the week.

While that stuff is great, “Old Friends” just doesn’t have enough of these moments. The songs routinely demand the same gravitas but rarely earn it, and the saccharine production does nothing to generate the missing energy. Lots of mid-tempo plodding, but it often feels like background music at a museum exhibit.

I’ll be keeping “Old Friends” for a few songs that make my heart soar (including a stirring rendition of “Amazing Grace”) but I know I won’t be putting it on very often. McDermott can sing with the best of them, and he is always on point and in tune, but this record needs to be a little more loose in stays to find the emotional depth it seeks.

Best tracks: Farewell To Pripchat, Amazing Grace, Lachin Y Gair (Dark Loch Nagar), Massacre of Glencoe

CD Odyssey Disc 1532: Clem Snide

This next band is named after a character in the novels of William S. Burroughs. I can’t stand William S. Burroughs, but the band is great. So great I delayed this review while I gave the record a few extra listens.

Disc 1532 is….  Your Favorite Music

Artist: Clem Snide

Year of Release: 1999

What’s up with the Cover? These guys are in trouble in one of two ways.

If their tuxedos are rentals, they’re going to get billed for all that water damage. If they’re not rentals it means they own these tuxedos.

How I Came To Know It: I got into Clem Snide through their 2020 record, “Forever Just Beyond”. I didn’t dig into their back catalogue at the time, but I was meeting a friend at my local record store and doing a bit of shopping. Sheila doesn’t usually CD shop, but she was idly digging through the miscellaneous ‘C’ section while she waited for our friend and found this. I took it for a sign and bought it on spec.

How It Stacks Up: I have two Clem Snide albums. They were released more than twenty years apart, but both are amazing. Fittingly, I’ll put “Your Favorite Music” as..my favorite music. By them, at least.

Ratings: 4 stars

“Your Favorite Music” is a record that sneaks up on you. On my first listen I wasn’t sure I was going to like it. The warbling, sometimes flat vocals had me longing for more, the lyrics took unlikely tangents, and the tunes had a country drag that ambled in a way that left me feeling anxious about whether they’d get to their destination.

However, the more I listened the more the things I had thought were bugs ended up being features. This is a record full of introspection and uncertainty; themes best approached thoughtfully, and from a slow amble.

“Bread” is a good example. A single guitar moseys its way through a song with plenty of minor notes bouncing about. Vocalist Eef Barzelay won’t blow the studio doors off their hinges with power, but he sings with honesty and integrity, and the more you listen the more you appreciate his tone as well. Also, Eef Barzelay is a great name. Better than Clem Snide, at any rate.

The band mixes up the arrangements from song to song, so while the slow plaintive mosey is present for most of them, they have a subtle variation I appreciated more and more on every listen. The secret weapon is Jason Glasser. He plays cello, violin and keyboards (not at the same time of course). This adds texture and emotional nuance, splashing deep blue and indigo into the corners of the songs. The more I listened the more I appreciated the choices Glasser makes on not only how he plays, but how he chooses which paintbrush to use for each song.

The tunes are good for a wallow, but they have a core of hope and happiness in them that will leave you satisfied at the end. The title track is the best example, starting out with a downcast “your favorite music/it just makes you sad” but ending with:

“I can't teach you
To learn to love yourself
But here's a sad song
That I wrote for no one else”

It’s like a hopeful and reassuring hug, and a reminder a sad song can be a healing experience.

The album has one up tempo number as well. “I Love the Unknown” comes right in the middle of the record and serves as a perfectly timed palate cleanser. It is a song about carefree adventure, with Barzelay singing with an unlikely joyful head voice, and Glasser dropping timely chops on the cello that made you think of the swell of the orchestra in the grand finale of a classical piece.

Immediately after they’re back to their slow and considered approach. The album’s latter gem is “Loneliness Finds Her Own Way”. It features the snap of the snare drum common to this era of blue-eyed soul. This song is lyrically one of the record’s best, opening with:

“Loneliness finds her own way
Cause her skin is so soft
I'm cutting my teeth on her shoulders
And cracking my knuckles while holding her hand”

This is very early Clem Snide, and they wear their influences on their sleeve. I got strong hints of Uncle Tupelo and (unsurprisingly) a long finish of early Wilco. However, they don’t sound derivative, they just sound like they’re part of the same musical school. They’re peers, not pupils.

There are a dozen or so Clem Snide releases between this one and the only other one in my collection, but based on the two bookends of their discography, I am looking forward to exploring everything in between.

Best tracks: Your Favorite Music, Bread, I Love the Unknown, Loneliness Finds Her Own Way, Sweet Mother Russia, The Water Song

The Best of 2021

Yes, it is that moment you’ve all been waiting for – the top 10 albums of 2021 revealed!

I listened to all or part of around 150 albums released in 2021. I ended up buying 53, with 7 more still on my “to get” list. The list below represents the top 10 of all of those.

In terms of methodology, I struggled a bit with the final rankings, and expect that as I get to know some of these records better the order could change. However, I am not keen on “best of” lists that refuse to provide a ranking, so I’ve taken an initial stand, while reserving the right to re-order as I get to know each record better.

I’m not doing an “honourable mention” section this year, but I am going to have my list go to 11. Why, you ask? Rock and roll, that’s why!

11. Torres – Thirstier
 - Torres finds love, and the result is her best record in years.

10. Langhorne Slim – Strawberry Mansion
 - Slim’s lighthearted jangle presents a throwback sixties approach to folk music which is the sugarcoating that helps these anxiety-ridden songs go down better.

9. Madi Diaz – History of a Feeling
 - Sometimes the inspiration isn’t love, so much as the loss of it. Diaz’s record alternates between rage and sorrow but is powerful and honest throughout.

8. Taylor Swift – Evermore
 - For the second straight year Swift has me regretting I hadn’t gotten into her music sooner. This record also inspired me to go purchase “Red: Taylor’s Version” which I also heartily recommend, but didn’t feel strictly like a 2021 release.

7. Cheekface – Emphatically No
­ - What if Cake were even more whimsical? You’d get Cheekface’s “Emphatically No” an album that is full of dead-pan humour and groovy riffs, much of which is about how this pandemic thing is kind of disconcerting.

6. Amythyst Kiah – Wary + Strange
 - Powerhouse vocals and a style that ranges across folk, soul and gospel make this record one that I like more and more on every listen.

5. Bat Fangs – Queen of My World
 - Nanananah nanananah, Bat Fangs! Fresh from making great music with Ex Hex, guitarist Betsy Wright now teams up with drummer Laura King with some killer Camaro rock. If a KISS record and a Joan Jett record had a baby it would sound like this.

4. London Grammar – Californian Soil
 - European pop is not usually my jam, but Californian Soil is an inspiring collection of anthems that lifted my spirit. I have since run out and bought their previous two records, but this is their best.

3. Nick Cave and Warren Ellis – Carnage
- Ho hum, just another amazing collection of songs from two of the greatest ever.

2. Sierra Ferrell – Long Time Coming
- Ferrell sings folk songs with the power of Patsy Cline and the innocence of the Carter Family. She’s an old soul breathing new life into traditional American folk music.

1. Lucy Dacus – Home Video
- Dacus takes us on a journey into youth, managing to fill these stories with all the uncertainty of the moment, seasoned with the perspective of time and experience.

So there you have it. Hopefully this list had that magical combination of:

1. Albums you agree were great, filling you with the pleasant glow of confirmation bias.
2. Albums you hadn’t heard of but will now listen to, resulting in the wonder of discovery.
3. Albums you didn’t like and never will, but that reminded you that we’re all a little different, and how that’s a good thing.

Although it should be obvious that these are my choices, I welcome you to share anything you think I’ve missed and help me out with #2 in the process.

CD Odyssey Disc 1531: The Popes

Welcome back to the CD Odyssey, where since 2009 I have been reviewing every CD in my collection, never stopping until I’m done. For rules on how this works, see the sidebar. For the latest entry, just keep reading.

Disc 1531 is….  Outlaw Heaven

Artist: The Popes (featuring Shane MacGowan)

Year of Release: 2009

What’s up with the Cover? Death rides a pale horse. In this case, it appears that death may have acquired his pale horse from this cowboy. Having taken the soul of some cowboy who was out riding death realizes, “hey, this is a quality horse,” and decided to keep it.

Or maybe the reverse is true, and this guy is a horse thief, and he has just realized to his horror he has just stolen from the wrong entity as death leaps up behind him with a bone-rattling “surprise!” and then scythes his soul out of his body and takes the reins.

Or maybe there’s no conflict at all, just someone being neighbourly. Like Death has lost his pale horse and this cowboy is giving him a lift to his next appointment to harvest souls.

How I Came To Know It: I saw this in a bargain bin at now-closed local record store Lyle’s Place many years ago. I had a record by Shane MacGowan and the Popes already and assumed this was another of their records I just hadn’t heard of. Which was only partially true, as it turns out.

How It Stacks Up: I have three studio albums by the Popes, and one ‘best of’ compilation. ‘Best Of” records don’t stack up, but of the three studio records, “Outlaw Heaven” finishes a distant third. Sorry, Popes.

Ratings: 2 stars

When Shane MacGowan left the Pogues he formed a band called “the Popes” who put out a few killer records in the mid-nineties with a similar Celtic folk/rock bent. “Outlaw Heaven” is not one of these albums.

Instead, this is a later version of the band, two iterations removed from the glory days with MacGowan. I was initially confused by this, buying it on the assumption one Popes album is much like another. When the singing began, I wondered why Shane MacGowan sounded so raspy. It was like he was trying to impersonate Bruce Springsteen, or if maybe his vocals had just changed over the years, like later Leonard Cohen. He also sounded suspiciously sober and easy to understand.

All of this was because it wasn’t Shane MacGowan at all, but Popes band leader and front man Paul “Maddog” McGuinness. The album cover notes that it will “feature” Shane MacGowan, but in this case that means he brings guest vocals to three of the 13 tracks only. This is not strictly false advertising, but it does smack a bit of dubious marketing.

Anyway, back to the Popes as they appear here. McGuinness is a fine enough singer, although don’t expect MacGowan’s trademark bawl. Maddog is more of a Joe Cocker style belter, crossed with classic rock and roll. The record has a number of songs that have that classic rock feel. Unfortunately, it is less “inspires a stadium of thousands” and more “bar band in the background” level stuff.

Negatively reinforcing this feel are a number of songs that start out with promise but end with repetitive riffs that go on far too long. The title track is the worst offender, which just cycles around as the band names various (now dead) musical influences. There are plenty of these songs that feel like the Popes weren’t sure how they wanted them to end. I assume they all looked around the studio at each other until someone finally offered the vague notion of “rocking out” and everyone nodded.

This record has the lyrical sway of earlier Popes records, but without quite enough sway, and the Celtic rock fury of the Dropkick Murphys, but without quite enough fury. The musicianship is fine, but the production doesn’t let anything stand out strongly.

In the end, “Outlaw Heaven” wasn’t terrible, it was just OK in a boring kind of way. I would be fine hearing it in the background while I’m having brunch, but I’m never going to put this record on in place of any number of records (including other Popes records) that fill the same musical niche in my collection.

And so, even as the cowboy on the cover shuffles off his mortal coil, I will shuffle this record out of my collection. And it won’t be one of those tender farewells where I gush and tearfully hope it finds love somewhere else. More of a cordial handshake and a “see ya around”.

Best tracks: Let the Bells Ring Out

CD Odyssey Disc 1530: The Underground Youth

When picking a record to review, I usually alternate between music in my “new to me” section (usually around 80-100 albums bought within the last year) and music filed away in the stacks (thousands more). The “new to me” section is organized from newest to the collection to oldest, but I just roll randomly out of the pile. This next review happened to be the newest of the new – literally purchased just last week. So hot from the store to you, here’s some music.

Disc 1530 is….  The Falling

Artist: The Underground Youth

Year of Release: 2021

What’s up with the Cover? A field of tulips, which could be beautiful but here we have them under the influence of a red filter because DRAMA. Also the album title in dozens of languages because “the falling” can happen ANYWHERE!

How I Came To Know It: I only discovered these guys last March, but I already can’t remember how. I dimly remember seeing a video for their song “Vergiss Mich Nicht” so maybe it was from a “best songs of the week” type of article. If so, I couldn’t find it. In terms of the actual purchase, I only found digital options on-line and assumed they didn’t release the CD. Then last week I found it in the stacks of my local record store. Where I gobbled it up with some Christmas money. Huzzah!

How It Stacks Up: This is my only Underground Youth album so it can’t stack up.

Ratings: 3 stars

Is it ever OK to be overwrought? I would say yes if you over-wring it just right and are unapologetic about doing so. This thought (and just what constitutes the right amount of pale and wan) were on my mind often as I listened to Underground Youth’s “The Falling”.

The band is solidly Euro-Goth (if that’s not a thing, it should be), influenced by Nick Cave and Leonard Cohen. And when I say influenced, I mean a lot of influence. So much so that at times they sound like a Nick Cave cover band. It tempted me to label them derivative, but that would not be fair to the quality of the music, and besides, no one should be blamed for their musical influences. Except Creed. They should be blamed.

On “The Falling” Underground Youth capture that creepy confessional quality of Nick Cave songs, with the steady rhyme and measure you’ll find in mid-career Leonard Cohen. They are not as good as either of those artists, but they do a good job of putting their own spin on the sound.

The guitars tend to be basic strums, and there are hints of strings here and there but don’t expect a lot of musical innovation. The music is the backdrop for lead singer Craig Dyer to deliver lyrics in his deep baritone, as he hints that something of great import is being shared.

Both the music and vocals are very theatrical, like an ancient Greek orator delivering prose in a stone-stepped theatre. It inclines you to believe some great tragedy is unfolding, or possibly observations on a dystopian future. However closer examination usually reveals something much more personal revolving around self-doubt and a fair bit of alcoholism. Examples of the latter abound, from the beginning of the title track:

“I crave this poison every day
Well, it gives me wings
But takes the sky away”

To “A Sorrowful Race” with:

“I curse first the empty bottle
That lies by my side
For the one job that I gave it
Well, it failed as it tried”

Incidentally, the race in the sorrowful race is a reference comparing raindrops falling and tears rolling down our narrator’s cheeks. It is very much on the wrong side of maudlin. “A Sorrowful Race” is one of the record’s better songs and possesses a genuine and profound melancholy. But imagery like that – a bit too on the nose - holds the record back.

Cohen and Cave might have made you feel the same way, but they would have used better language. Admittedly, that is a hell of a high bar, but if a band is going to sound that similar, then those are the comparisons they’re going to invite.

Despite its shortcomings, “the Falling” works well as a mood piece, particularly when listened to sequentially from beginning to end. The songs tend to blend into one another with a pleasant hypnotic quality and a rising tension. It is good for a wallow, and it feels honest despite moments where it needs to be just a little bit less verklempt.

Best tracks: The Falling, Vergiss Mich Nicht, A Sorrowful Race

CD Odyssey Disc 1529: Frank Turner

Another snow day leads to another long commute without my car, but it also means I got in some quality music listening time. I love the commute!

Disc 1529 is….  Obviously

Artist: Frank Turner

Year of Release: 2019

What’s up with the Cover? I used to know two fellas back when I was a kid. One was an accomplished martial artist and would sometimes decide out of the blue to aggressively practice his kung fu moves. The other (much smaller) fella would sometimes get very excited by this and throw himself into the whirling limbs only to be dashed violently to the side. He never seemed to mind this outcome and would just pick himself up and do it all over again. No one ever knew the reason. I’ve always assumed…adventure?

That is not what is happening on this album cover, but I would caution anyone who encountered a goddess/superhero posing powerfully in front of an eclipse like this to not throw yourself into whatever is going on. First of all it is rude, and second of all you might get a bloody lip for your trouble.

But I digress…

How I Came To Know It: I’m a big Frank Turner fan. Not “follow him to all 40 shows” kind of level, but definitely “follow him to 2 or 3 shows as part of a holiday” kind of level. This was just me buying his latest release. His next is due out this February, and I’m looking forward to it. If I’m lucky and the pandemic relents, maybe there’ll even be a tour date later in the year.

How It Stacks Up: I have eight Frank Turner albums. I like them all but one of them has to be last, and this is it. So…#8.

Ratings: 3 stars

Frank Turner’s “No Man’s Land” had me thinking about Swedish metal band Sabaton. Not because Turner’s traded in his folk-rock guitar stylings for European power metal, although that would be interesting to hear. Rather, it is because Sabaton loves a good theme. In their case, they sing almost exclusively about warfare, but sometimes they’re so committed to accurately telling the story, they lose the song for the theme.

“No Man’s Land” suffers a similar fate. Turner’s chosen theme is remarkable women. Some heroes, some villains and some in-between, but all remarkable. I love a record with a theme, and this is a good one, but while Turner is one of rock and roll’s great storytellers the quality here is not as consistent as his previous efforts.

There are still some gems, most notably the album’s single, “Sister Rosetta.” This tells the story of Sister Rosetta Tharpe, who recorded gospel music in the thirties and forties while playing blues guitar. Her choice of instrument, the way she played, and the host of people influenced by her sound helped create what know today as rock and roll. As they say in rock and roll speak, ‘that’s fucking cool.’ So is the song, that has a rhythm and groove that pays homage to Tharpe, while staying within Frank Turner’s folk-rock wheelhouse. The song is inspirational and catchy in equal measure.

“A Perfect Wife” is another standout, a light-hearted birdsong of a tune, that belies the fact it is about serial killer Nannie Doss. The juxtaposition of the happy delivery of the chorus of “oh, oh, oh, I haven’t been a perfect wife” with the broader story in the verses is inspired.

My last favourite is “Eye of the Day” which tells the story of Mata Hari. Turner’s tune is a mournful and introspective first-person exploration of the character, painting colour, meaning and nuance into someone that is often relegated to nothing more than “German spy” in the annals of history. Her life and the circumstances of her conviction are both worthy of greater attention, and Frank brings out complexity and tragedy of the tale without being excessively explanatory.

Unfortunately, this is not always the case on “No Man’s Land”. A number of songs feel too crammed with detail, and while the stories of the various women are universally interesting to explore, the same can’t be true for the songs Turner honours them with. None are terrible, but many could benefit from stronger melodies or fewer facts.

I was also disappointed with Turner’s new recording of “Silent Key”. The song is the story of Christa McAuliffe’s death in the Challenger disaster and is one of my favourites from his 2015 album “Positive Songs for Negative People” (reviewed back at Disc 791). The original album had two versions (electric and acoustic) and both are heartbreaking and beautiful. Turner opts for a softer more hopeful delivery on “No Man’s Land” and the lack of all the underlying pain takes away from what should be one of the record’s best.

Despite my criticisms, Frank Turner remains one of my favourite artists of all time. I’ve seen him live more than any other band, and when concerts are allowed I’ll see him again. I am equally enamoured of his discography, which is chock full of brilliance. In some respects, “No Man’s Land” suffers by comparison to these other records, but don’t assume that means it is bad. It may not be my favourite, but I still like it plenty. Moreover it will have you scouring the internet and bookstores for more stories about these remarkable women. That’s an outcome I expect Frank would have preferred over a gushing review anyway.

Best tracks: Sister Rosetta, A Perfect Wife, Eye of the Day