CD Odyssey Disc 1917: The Mountain Goats

This is my fourth straight review released in 2023 or later. An interesting streak but one that is random, not by design.

Disc 1917 is…Through This Fire Across From Peter Balkan

Artist: The Mountain Goats

Year of Release: 2025

What’s up with the Cover? A painting of a fishboat and a lot of words. I spent a summer commercial fishing and can confirm that the folks out on the ocean for weeks at a time work damn hard so that the rest of us can enjoy shrimp cocktail or poached salmon at a fancy restaurant.

When I was a kid a shrimp cocktail felt like the height of opulence. Like you’d really arrived if you could sit in a restaurant and eat a bunch of shrimp out of a tall glass. I still think it’s pretty great.

But I digress…

How I Came To Know It: I have been a fan of the Mountain Goats (aka John Darnielle and friends) for many years. So many, I forget how I came to know them. I suspect it was around 2015 with “Beat the Champ” so by no means an original fan.

Anyway, I tend to give Darnielle a chance when he puts something new out, and that’s what happened here.

How It Stacks Up: The Mountain Goats have released 23 studio albums, and I have 14 of them. Of the 14 I have, “Through This Fire Across From Peter Balkan” (hereafter “Through This Fire…”) comes in dead last at #14.

Ratings: 2 stars

John Darnielle and the Mountain Goats love a theme album. I also love a theme album, just not “Through This Fire…” This album I do not love. Let’s talk about that.

I have just over half of the Mountain Goats albums, and I’ve seen them live. When I saw them live I realized there were some serious Mountain Goats fans out there the likes of which I could not match. “Sing along with every word” types that followed them town to town. Very cool, but the sort of thing I might do for Blue Oyster Cult or Frank Turner, but not much else.

All of which is to say I love the Mountain Goats, but not unconditionally. Which brings us here.

When an album begins with an overture, you better strap in tight, because it could get very ‘musical theatre’ very quickly. Darnielle loves themes, and on this record he basically writes a very weird very off-beat record that feels a lot like a musical.

With the exception of Les Miserables and maybe Chess, I hate musicals.

The plot of this particular bit of theatre was hard to unravel. The internet has a bunch of theories, but holding true to my “art should be experienced directly” approach, I quickly clicked away before I learned anything useful. On my limited listens (3) it felt like there was this guy on a fish boat and there was an accident and most of the crew drowned. Our hero lived, washed up and was changed by the experience. It gets a bit confusing in the second half but that might have just been me losing interest.

Darnielle has a talent for taking a hyper-specific experience and finding universal truths in it. He’s done this to good effect for wrestling (“Beat the Champ”), action films (“Bleed Out”) and even Dungeons & Dragons (“In League with Dragons”). I’m not sure he lands “fisherman has epiphany” with the same success.

There is some great imagery for sure. Darnielle is a hyper-talented wordsmith, and can generate a lot of emotional gravitas and complexity with just a few words. My favourite on this record is from “Cold at Night”:

“The first thing you learn is how strong you can be if you have to
And the next thing you learn is how cold it can get at night”

Good stuff, and one of the record’s better tracks, despite the presence of Lin- Manuel Miranda on backing vocals, who generally irritates me. Here he’s OK on the loose harmonies, but back to being annoying when he starts doing a delayed echo thing later in the song.  

Darnielle’s voice, which has a high half-spoken quality that is somewhere between pop star and beat poet doesn’t work for everyone, but it works for me, and on “Through This Fire…” it worked again. No complaints there.

One of the better vocal moments lands with “Your Bandage” which has him at his softest lilt, drawing you in and making a tender moment out of someone reapplying someone’s bandage. It feels a bit out of place here, like it was meant for his 2022 album “Bleed Out”, except it was too soft, but I still loved it and it has one of the prettier song structures on the record.

That said, the melodies on this record overall are a bit stagnant for my tastes. Lots of small flairs and adjustments, which I’m sure to a jazz enthusiast would be welcomed for their subtle math. I am not a jazz enthusiast.

As for the arrangements, it is a mix of synth and strings and other what-not, but it mostly serves to feel like it was meant for an off-Broadway production, not a pop album. It is both overwrought and uninteresting at the same time.

Like I said at the start, I’m not a casual fan of the Mountain Goats, nor am I a zealot. Some records I have passed over without ever buying, and others are cherished favourites in my collection. “Through This Fire…” occupies that rare middle ground – a record I thought I liked enough to own, but upon further review, will be parting my company and going to a home of someone who will love it in a way that I do not.

Best tracks: Fishing Boat, Cold at Night, Your Bandage

CD Odyssey Disc 1916: Poppy

Sometimes I like an artist enough to buy everything they put out and sometimes it is a more of a hit-and-miss affair. This next artist is the latter.

Disc 1916 is…Zig

Artist: Poppy

Year of Release: 2023

What’s up with the Cover? If someone was seeking to capture Poppy, they probably shouldn’t have tied a sharp sword in the middle of her bonds. Not only is she going to find it easier to escape, when she inevitably does get out, she’s going to have a sword handy.

It takes that whole “capture the heroine but keep all their stuff conveniently unlocked in the room next door” to another level of ill-advised. I bet before they left her unattended, our villain went ahead and told Poppy all their schemes in full detail as well.

That villain is so getting a well-deserved stabbing.

How I Came To Know It: I first discovered Poppy through her 2020 album “I Disagree”. I tend to give her new releases a chance. As noted in the teaser, sometimes they’re good enough to buy and sometimes not. This one fell on the “good” side of the ledger.

How It Stacks Up: Poppy has seven full-length records, but as I noted in the teaser, they’re not always my cup of tea. I only have three of them, with “Zig” coming in at…#3. Last place or the bronze medal, depending on what kind of day you’re having.

Ratings: 3 stars

A Poppy record is hard to predict. It might be…poppy (sorry), or it might be more rock or even a hint of metal. It might even try a few outfits on for size on the same record. I tend to like Poppy more when she embraces that harder edge, and on “Zig” she just doesn’t do that enough.

This record is heavy on the bass beats and electronica. The kind of thing you could do on a single synthesizer, but only if you were really good at it. This isn’t Casio-in-the-basement fare, although there is that element in there if you listen for it.

Things start off with a bang. On “Church Outfit” we get the Poppy I like best. The electronic beats underpinning the song are distorted and evocative of guitar. It is catchy, danceable and when it fully kicks in, it’s got a bit of the ole headbang in there as well. This soft/hard/soft/hard internal tension is where Poppy does her best work. We’ve got the insistent dance beat, a mix of sugary pop vocals with some angry snarl mixed in. The lesson – lyrically and musically – you can be pretty and dangerous at the same time.

This is followed up with full-on club banger. “Knockoff” is a song about how high fashion is better than the cheap knockoffs. Saying what the song is about might suggest a lot of deep thought going on, and lyrically there isn’t. It’s a clever and catchy pop tune but saying “I like designer stuff” isn’t exactly ocean-level deep.

There are more than a few tunes on here that feel this way – a concept or image only partially explored. A musical idea that’s compelling at first but doesn’t develop into something greater. It is a testament to how effortlessly Poppy generates a catchy beat that these half-finished thoughts are still a good time.

At other times, she resorts to unneeded gimmickry when the song’s bones are plenty good enough to hold the song together (case in point – “devil voice underwater” effects on “What It Becomes”). It is almost like Poppy gets bored with what she’s doing and wants to throw in some other effect or element just for kicks. Sometimes one fewer kick would be preferred.

This self-possessed confidence is sexy and dangerous in equal measure. Maybe a bit unhinged as well, in a sort of ‘Lost Boys hanging off the trestle’ kind of way. She keens away as the train rattles overhead, and you wonder if she’s in mortal danger or just a vampire having you on. On some songs she soars, and on some she falls, but either way you can’t deny she’s exploring the space.

Near the end of the record we get the sexy catwalk flair of “Motorbike.” This song is fashion, funk, and completely over the top. If ever there was a song that needs to be part of a “Lip Sync for Your Life” on RuPaul’s Drag Race, this is it. Pure fun with a dance beat that demands you dance now or leave the club in shame.

Best tracks: Church Outfit, Knockoff, The Attic, Motorbike

CD Odyssey Disc 1915: Courtney Marie Andrews

Another week, another Friday concert. This means we once again have a two-fer, featuring an album review and a concert review.

Disc 1915 is…Valentine

Artist: Courtney Marie Andrews

Year of Release: 2026

What’s up with the Cover? For the second time in as many reviews (Disc 1903) we encounter Courtney Marie Andrews enduring some sort of mildly disagreeable weather with the sun setting.

Here, on a windswept coastline, a determined but apprehensive Courtney Marie Andrews reaches back and invites a shadowy figure to join her, not realizing that should that shadow walk into the light with her he will, by his very nature, cease to be.

Or is it just another photo shoot where they ran out of light and if so, maybe for the next record everyone should just get started a little earlier. If we keep this up, Courtney is going to catch the ague.

How I Came To Know It: I have been a fan of Andrews since 2016, so this was just me buying her latest release.

How It Stacks Up: Having picked up an early release at the live show last night, I now have seven Courtney Marie Andrews albums. “Valentine” comes in at #6.

Ratings: 3 stars

There’s a thing that happens to most contemporary folk artists at some point if they stick around long enough – they start going for fancier production. This is generally not a welcome development in the CD Odyssey experience, but it can be overcome by great vocals and songs with good bones. “Valentine” is a good example of this eternal struggle of tradition and technology.

Andrews began her “hmmm…what is all this equipment?” phase in earnest on 2022’s “Loose Future”. Four years later with “Valentine” she still has a fair share of playing about with mellotron and synthesizer but is doing a better job of integrating it. 

And as I noted in the lede, if you’ve got great vocals and a solid melody all is forgiven. The record lands its first serious blow to the heart at Track 3 with “Cons and Clowns”.

Starting with an understated but steadily growing guitar strum, the song opens with:

“Don't make yourself small, baby, take up space
I always wanna hear what you have to say”

And then Andrews does exactly that, wasting no time straight from the ‘A’ section into the chorus and showcasing her signature trill. No one can trill the high notes like Andrews: so controlled, so sweet and thoroughly steeped in a tone so spiritually evocative it borders on necromancy.

All this comes after a couple of songs that are good but not great and had me preparing to “meh” all over the record. With “Cons and Clowns” I threw that two-star bias away realized I might just have a legitimately good record on my hands. Not great, but good. (A shout out at this point to my friend Tom who said as much to me a month ago, at a time when he had clearly listened more closely than me).

There are some painful moments (the chirpy squeaking synth sounds (and maybe flute) that lead off “Little Picture of a Butterfly” comes to mind). Despite that “Little Picture…” recovers and becomes a bit of a slow jam at a disco, with great lines like:

“Guess I should have known better
Guess I’m throwing out that sweater”.

Eat your heart out, Meryn Cadell.

By the end I had almost forgiven all the atmospheric squeaking. Almost.

These effects are better deployed on “Outsider” which isn’t as strong a song as “Little Picture…” but does a better job of blending in the futuristic sounds, coming across like a reincarnated ABBA tune. One of those melancholy ones like “The Winner Takes It All” with strangely triumphant chords and atmospheric noises that somehow make it exhilarating to be sad.

The record ends strong with “Hangman” which uses the word game as a lovely springboard metaphor. Say what you will about Andrews’ production choices, she knows how to write a song, and “Hangman” has all the things that makes her great – the thoughtful introspective thoughts, twisted up against a pure resilience like a rising double helix of sound. Andrews writes songs that fill you with resolution and gives you the emotional experience of a runner’s high – weary, breathless, and elated.

And while her vocals do this on every song on the record, they have to compete with the creative arrangements and don’t win out every time. The juxtaposition of her pure folk vocals and those less organic additions generate moments, but as often as not I just wanted her voice and an acoustic guitar. The heart wants what it wants…

Best tracks: Cons and Clowns, Everyone Wants to Feel Like You Do, Hangman

The Concert – Friday, April 10 at the Biltmore, Vancouver BC

This show was a bit of a whim, when I decided at the last minute to take Friday off and head over for a quick overnight show in neighbouring Vancouver with my good friend and fellow music enthusiast, Casey.

I’d been to the Biltmore once before about a year ago (to see the Handsome Family – see review at Disc 1811) so I knew to expect good acoustics and terrible sightlines. We got there early and landed two high stools right in front of the soundboard.

As the floor filled up it became apparent that while the sound in that location was going to be unmatched, the sightlines were as terrible as ever. The Biltmore has a low ceiling and as a result the stage is perforce also low. While it didn’t help that all the tallest people there seemed to choose the angle between me and the stage, even normal-sized humans would have blocked most of the show.

I spent the night focused on listening and occasionally enjoying a fleeting sighting of the singers’ head when the alternating sway of my fellow music fans parted slightly. I suppose I could have crept forward to snap a photo for this blog, but that wouldn’t have been authentic to my experience. So, true to the event, this concert review features no photos.

Lou Hazel

The opening act was singer-songwriter Lou Hazel. Lou was a delightful fellow, and his short set was a good mix of banter and folk songs, ending with an engaging song about his dad that left me feeling like I know the man personally (I don’t).

On one song Lou had a chorus composed of rhetorical questions to which the enthusiastic fans shouted answers. Fun on the first chorus, but tiresome when the antics were repeated throughout.

Courtney Marie Andrews

Andrews came on stage without fanfare and launched immediately into “Pendulum Swing” the opening track of her new album. After a couple more songs from that record, Andrews stopped to confirm my suspicion – she was going to play the whole album in sequence.

As a lover of the full album experience (note: this blog) I happen to love encountering this at a live show. While “Valentine” is not my favourite record I appreciated her doubling down on her newest songs and also making casual fans and dilettantes (which I am not) live the full musical experience they should be seeking out on their own anyway.

As noted in the review above, I was not a fan of “Valentine”s production decisions and hoped that the live version would be more organic. For the most part it was, although Andrews’ and the band still managed to get in a fair share of hum and buzz.

On worst offenders like “Little Picture of a Butterfly” I learned that some of the weird sounds were from a flute (which Andrews artfully switched to and from guitar without missing a beat). It was a bit more organic, but still stubbornly stuck to the new sound.

The final song on the record, “Hangman” is one of my favourites on the record, but live it got a bit overamped and the resulting feedback buzz was, admittedly, an irritant.

As for the overall quality of the show, my “perfect audiophile” location paid off big-time. Andrews’ vocals, so angelic through her career, have lost nothing in either power or tone. The notes that lifted my soul and raised the hair on my neck on her studio records did it again in the live environment, often moreso.

The last third of the show featured a couple of songs off of her previous albums, relatively evenly applied through her discography from “Honest Life” forward. Standouts included “Rookie Dreaming” and “Burlap String” but it was a good selection, although admittedly abbreviated due to the time taken by the full-album approach (which, as noted above, I heartily endorse).

Now a note on the crowd, and since I’m about to share a couple of bad moments, I’d like to lead with love and note that 95% of the crowd were enthusiastic, joyful and respectful of their neighbours. Even all those tall dudes did their best to navigate to a shared space that impacted only a small viewing angle overall. The Biltmore attracts true music fans and there were many there with me, enjoying the music. Love to all of these - the vast majority of attendees.

Of course, there are always exceptions. Two people in front of me talked nonstop through the entire first half of the set before mercifully moving along to Parts Unknown. I couldn’t hear them but remain eternally mystified by people who pay money to attend a live music event and then choose to talk through it.

Worse was someone who, forgoing thousands of years’ worth of shared human understanding of the guest/host relationship shouted an insult directed broadly at America. Andrews and her whole band are from the United States, and while the shout was (thankfully) greeted with a dismayed murmur of disagreement from the crowd, it still landed ill.

To Andrews’ credit, she got through the song, reminded everyone (more gently than was deserved) that love is the way through troubled times and - in a final message on the matter - ended the show with an acoustic rendition of “May Your Kindness Remain”.

No matter what dark thoughts may eat away at us in times of trouble, and no matter how hard a road we may walk, this is always good advice.

CD Odyssey Disc 1914: Jenny Don't and the Spurs

For the second time in three weeks, we bring you an album review with bonus coverage of a live show. If you just like the studio experience, the first half of this entry will appeal, and if you only like concert reviews it will be the second half. Or just read the whole thing. Reading is good for you. You know this, or you would not even be here.

Disc 1914 is…Broken Hearted Blue

Artist: Jenny Don’t & the Spurs

Year of Release: 2024

What’s up with the Cover? Jenny rocks the cover with a determined look on her face that says, “see this guitar? I am going to rock your world with it.”

How I Came To Know It: I like a lot of artists that are signed to a label called Fluff & Gravy records (Alela Diane, Anna Tivel, Jeffrey Martin, Son of the Velvet Rat, Margo Cilker), so one day when I was cruising around their website I started looking into other artists that caught my eye. This was one of them. Turns out it caught my ear as well.

How It Stacks Up: Having just picked up another album at the merch table last night, I now have three Jenny Don’t & the Spurs albums. “Broken Hearted Blue” comes in first place.

Ratings: 4 stars

Don’t expect something easily quantifiable on a Jenny Don’t & the Spurs album. Their particular blend of cowpunk, surfer guitar and down-home old-time country isn’t easily categorized, but that’s part of its charm.

On “Broken Hearted Blue” the band takes a step or two further into the surf punk side of things than on previous releases, but they keep that complex mix intact overall.

The album does a tasteful job of keeping all the tracks even in the mix, and this lets your ear explore the soundscape of the band’s style as your whim determines.

My lyric-focused heart started off gravitating to Jenny’s vocals, which aren’t blow the doors down big, but have a magnetic tone, and are sneaky adaptable. This allows her to pull songs in different directions. She can hit a high “beer garden jamboree” in her head voice “You’re What I Need”, and a low but dangerous half-whisper in “Jealous Heart”, and her creativity allows a wide range of approaches to a song’s structure. Don’t was previously in a punk band, and like Frank Turner, she turns this experience into just the right amount of edge and danger to her singing when occasion demands.

Or maybe you’d prefer to follow along the surf/country stylings of lead guitarist Christopher March. If so, there are plenty of offerings on that front as well. The songs are short as befits the styles they draw from, but never so short that they can’t make time and space for the mood-setting coolness of a March solo. March plays with big round notes that evoke the vastness of an ocean wave or the back forty of a cattle ranch with equal aplomb.

My favourite song on the record is “Unlucky Love”, which has a bit of everything. It starts slow, with an almost eighties pop beat/bass line, then enter the surf guitar and finally the best of Jenny Don’t’s vocals you’ll find here or on any other record. On the opening lines of:

“I know it’s not me when you say you’re falling in love
I know it’s not me, it couldn’t be, I’m not the one”

She sounds vulnerable and sorrowful and ready to break your heart into a thousand pieces, but the later refrain of:

“I’m just a fool
Unlucky in love
at least I’m something”

You catch a resilience underneath that’s hard as steel.

As befits its title, “Broken Hearted Blue” has a lot of exploration of love lost, unrequited or simply rejected, but the record never feels maudlin or sorry for itself. There’s a strength here, reflected in the way the songs are structured, braided together like the strands of a steel cable, pliable but powerful.

This layered impact sneaks up on you. On my first listen, “Broken Hearted Blue” felt like a three-star record, and the junior partner to its more traditional sounding predecessor, 2021’s “Fire on the Ridge” but the more I listened the more it wrapped itself around me in all the right ways.

Best tracks: Pain in My Heart, Jealous Heart, Unlucky Love, Bones in the Sand

The Concert – Friday, April 3 at Lucky Bar, Victoria BC

I was pretty excited for this show, which I only found out about by chance when I saw a poster in the local record store. Given the short notice and niche sound, I thought this might appeal only to me, so I was much pleased to find both my gal and four friends all came along!

Lucky Bar is a small venue, but it is one of the better places to see a show in Victoria. The all-brick venue helps keep the sound from getting too hot, and while there isn’t much seating for us olds, if you get there early enough you can swing something. As it happens, we got there first and got the best seat in the house. Right on the edge of the dance floor, and in full view of the band. As the cowpunks say, “yeehaw!”.

Another note on the venue – two drinks cost me $12 with tip which is roughly half of what it costs at most other places. Kudos to you, Lucky Bar, for providing an affordable night out.

OK, on with the music.

Teenage Art Scene

The opening band was Teenage Art Scene. They were still doing their sound check when we arrived, and while this is not usually a good sign, it wasn’t their fault. If you are the first of two opening bands, you squeeze in stage time where you can and usually have to suffer through someone else’s sound board settings. Fret not – it’ll get better when you get higher on the bill.

As for the music, the sound was a bit muddy and I couldn’t understand any of the words of the songs. Again, likely not the band’s fault (see aforementioned sound check challenges).

They played well, although their style of music (somewhere between Weezer and Green Day) didn’t float my boat. They had some enthusiastic fans up front that danced like demons and chanted “one more song” when the set ended. That’s an impossibility for openers but I liked the energy.

My wife Sheila thought them good enough to buy both a t-shirt and a CD, so I look forward to hearing them the way they likely want to be heard.

The Projectors

Next up, were the Projectors – a Victoria band getting some local radio play I am told by those who listen to the radio (I do not).

Before I discuss the music, a big shout out to lead singer Dylan Rysstad who graciously sold me Jenny Don’t merch at the booth, including taking down the one medium band shirt left on the wall in the style I preferred. As it happens, that shirt was for display only because it had a sizeable hole in it, which I wouldn’t have even noticed until later except that Rysstad tracked me down in the audience, and arranged to get it exchanged for another one. Rock and roll is cool, but courtesy and honourable conduct are even cooler. Kudos!

As for the band, these guys played tight. Despite also be an opening band they were not muddy at all, and lead singer Rysstad has an easy natural phrasing to his delivery where you can hear every word clear as day.

The band’s music has a lot of sharp all-stops in the arrangements and they landed every one right on the beat. The music was (to borrow an observation from my friend Cat) a bit Interpol/Killers, and I would throw in a soupcon of Fabulous Thunderbirds for good measure.

Jenny Don’t & the Spurs

At last, we arrived at the main event. Jenny Don’t & the Spurs were one hell of a good time, and the free-flowing experience of a club or bar venue like Lucky is the perfect place to experience them. Jenny makes it feel like a party from the opening notes.

One of the challenges in a bar setting is catching the crowd’s attention, and early in the set I was mildly irritated by the low rumble of conversation going on in the back of the pub. This slowly died down through the set – not through anything I did, but because Jenny Don’t’s enthusiasm drew them in and shut them up with the best motivation there is – good music.

The sound was a bit overamped for the first couple of songs but they got this fixed quickly. Jenny’s vocals felt a bit low in the mix for my tastes, but the signature high peal when she’s at the top of her register cut through the mix like a revelation.

Jenny has a smile that is infectious. At one point she announced this was the band’s 999^th show, and while this showed in their mastery of the stage, the enthusiasm level made it feel like we were the only show that ever mattered to them or ever would; an illusion every live show should aspire to.

The setlist is exactly what I wanted, including two of my favourite songs (“Fire on the Ridge” and “Unlucky Love”) back to back.

The band played as a cohesive unit, balancing each other’s energy with the ease of seasoned professionals. On the left side of the stage the bass player was going absolutely off the hook, staring imperiously god into the audience like a rock god, and swinging his arm around like he was Pete Townsend. He was also a wizard on the bass, hands and fingers flying through a dizzying array of positions with an aggressive grace.

On the right, the guitar player hunkered down and played tasty licks with nary a stage move, but with just as much skill and artistry but less theatricality.

In between, Jenny bounced between the two energies, pulling everything together, occasionally pointing her guitar skyward like the cover of the album review above – a signature move that seemed to shout “c’mon on in – the party’s just getting started!”. She doubled down on the notion, toasting the audience with a beer throughout the show in an infectious way the venue likely appreciated with respect to bar sales.

It is at this point that I will sometimes gripe that the merch table doesn’t have enough medium t-shirts. That was true this time as well, but no gripe from me, because I was so well cared for. First by Dylan of the Projectors and later Jenny herself, swapping for another option for me, and apologizing for the mix up. She was as down to earth and approachable as anyone you’d meet, despite being about 30 minutes away from hitting the stage like a hurricane.

CD Odyssey Disc 1913: Son of the Velvet Rat

I’ve been seeing a lot of live shows lately, and there are more album/concert combo reviews coming soon. In the meantime, here’s a review of a band I would love to see live but no such luck yet…

Disc 1913 is…Firedancer

Artist: Son of the Velvet Rat

Year of Release: 2013

What’s up with the Cover? Based on the album title we might be led to believe that this is a firedancer. However, this person is clearly wearing a swimsuit and pirouetting above an ocean. This leads me to believe they are a waterdancer or possibly an airdancer.

Earthdancer is right out.

How I Came To Know It: I fell hard for Son of the Velvet Rat a few years ago and I’ve been buying their records like nobody’s business. This one was just another statistic of that spree, which I have yet to regret.

How It Stacks Up: I have seven Son of the Velvet Rat studio albums (plus two EPs and a live record, but those don’t count here). Like I said, there has been a spree. Honestly, I don’t know my Son of the Velvet Rat catalogue as well as I should. Part of my writing these reviews is ensuring I do a deep dive, but that hasn’t happened yet. So, without knowing how it will all go, I’ll just say I liked this record a lot, but mindful of leaving room around it, I’ll put it third…for now.

Ratings: 4 stars

“Firedancer” is one of my many recent purchases by Austrian alternative folk/rock band Son of the Velvet Rat, and while it isn’t the divine perfection of “Dorado” (Disc 1810), it is solid.

“Firedancer” was released immediate prior to “Dorado”, but there are four years between the two and the distance is noticeable in the stylistic approach. While “Dorado” is a moody selection of Leonard Cohen/Nick Cave style poetic explorations, “Firedancer” has sections that are much livelier and rock-forward.

The structure of the songs is similar underneath, with singer Georg Altziebler still delivering his raspy whisper vocals over music designed to evoke mood. The difference is that mood can manifest as stormier and more turbulent in nature. The guitars are heavier, and the horns are as likely to paint in full peal as they are to meander in airy pastel.

But more importantly, how did I feel about this stylistic shift? As it happens, perfectly fine. Yes, I was pining for the sound of “Dorado” but that is more about that record’s brilliance, and less about arrangement and tempo.

The band likes Spanish undertones and knows how to mix these with blues and folk elements to make something unique. When the record doubled down on the blues portions it lost me a bit, but when that was just one ingredient among any, the old magic returned. A good example of this is “Trapped Sunlight” which has some lovely Spanish influenced guitar laid over a core riff that is all blues. Just the riff would be boring, but the other elements create a tense undercurrent that catches your ear with two familiar sounds, making unfamiliar beauty together.

The title track is the folksiest offering and one of my favourites. Stripped down guitar and Altziebler’s vocals stand stark and let the poetry do the heavy lifting. My favourite line is:

“the city’s a permanent rumble
A subtle quake, a distant drone”

As it reminded me what it felt like, coming from a small town to the city and realizing that this new environment would always have some sort of ambient sound. At first it can be disconcerting, but then reassuring once you acclimate.  

The record does a lovely job of sense-shifting, applying descriptors from one sense to another with good effect. On the contemplative “Day at the Beach” we get a good example in the final stanza with:

“Lay and listen
To the sound
Of the sun going down
And the sound of the sand.”

Like the cityscape sounds earlier, there is an imminence to sunset at the beach palpable enough to feel like a sound, even when it’s quiet. This image also calls up all the sounds of the beach at that time of day (the tide, gulls) referenced earlier in the song.

These quieter moments are sublime and while on first listen I felt the intrusion of the more raucous numbers, after spending some time with the record I realized that the tension of these different arrangements gave the record range and made it more interesting.

Overall I was left excited (and a bit ashamed) that my constant flitting through new music sometimes prevents me from settling in on great new discoveries. Fortunately, I will have many years to grok Son of the Velvet Rat in their fulness. My experience with “Firedancer” only whetted my appetite all the more for the journey.

Best tracks: Trapped Sunlight, Firedancer, Guardian Angel, Friends with God, Day at the Beach

CD Odyssey Disc 1912: Kurt Vile

I have a friend who has a thing against EPs. One reason is that something that stands for “extended play” should not be shorter, yet it is. I would add the cost (often more per song) and the fact that some artists release an EP, only to release a longer LP with the same songs plus a few more a year later.

I generally avoid them, but sometimes they’re just too good to pass by, which is the case for this next review.

Disc 1912 is… Speed, Sound, Lonely KV

Artist: Kurt Vile

Year of Release: 2020

What’s up with the Cover? Kurt looks about as relaxed here as he ever does, which is to say, not very. We can forgive him, as this album was released in the height of Covid Times.

Relaxed or not, the man has one of the finest heads of hair ever. The kind of hair that requires no product or complicated styling to be awesome. Seventies hair.

How I Came To Know It: I have been a fan of Kurt Vile since he released “B’lieve I’m Goin’ Down” back in 2015, so I tend to check out whatever he’s up to (n.b. not yet reviewed because of the whole “random selection” thing).

How It Stacks Up: I am not always a fan of Vile’s work. In fact, I’m as likely to not like one of his records than to like it. As a result, even though he has released eight solo albums and twenty (yes twenty!) EPs, I only have one of each. I don’t stack EPs against LPs and hence, there’ll be no stacking today of any kind.

Sorry for that buried lede. Let’s move on.

Ratings: 4 stars

Kurt Vile has a guitar to sink into, and the light production touch on “Speed, Sound, Lonely KV” lets that guitar shine. Listening to this record was a balm in the midst of a stressful week. I drove slower and gave plenty of room to merging traffic. I walked with less purpose and stared at the sky a lot. When it rained, it felt peaceful, and when it was sunny it felt reassuring. Was this all due to Kurt Vile’s guitar? No, but it sure helped.

Vile’s picking style rolls light and carefree and he pulls tone from his guitar that fills the room with a diffuse energy, weak and strong at the same time. If gravity could be expressed as music, Kurt Vile’s guitar might be it.

The opening track, “Speed of the Sound of Loneliness” is classic Vile, as he plays a light trill of notes in and out with an accompanying piano. There is tension in the lyrics of the song, and even some exploration of the damage that loneliness can do, but it is hard to get anxious about it because the delivery is so chill.

While a rocker, Vile has a folksy streak through his music, and “Speed, Sound, Lonely KV” doubles down on this aspect of his work. “Gone Girl” has a lilt to the melody, and this alongside Vile’s slightly flat vocal style evoked Townes Van Zandt. Like Vile’s hair, the sound is a bit of a seventies throwback to a simpler time where folks smoked grass and pined for unattainable girls with summer in their hair.

“Dandelions” is much more in the wheelhouse of Vile, with its meandering tune and almost stream-of-consciousness approach to the lyrics. It is OK, but at 6:35 it meanders for about two minutes longer than I would have preferred. This is a known hazard of all Kurt Vile records, however.

The weakest song on the record is “How Lucky”, a duet with John Prine that sounds very Prine. I don’t mind that sound, but I’ve got a lot of John Prine albums and this isn’t his best work. It is bittersweet, however, as Prine died in 2020 making this some of his last work. We miss you, John.

The album ends strong with “Pearls” a song which has Vile incorporating a bit of western style guitar picking into his repertoire. It is a strength of Vile that his work is so relaxed that he can pull in influences from many different forms of music and they all feel at home with one another. He has a way of giving different styles the elbow room they need to live alongside one another in the same song and not feel like they’re competing.

My friend is right about EPs, and at only five songs I found myself wanting more, but at the end of the day, that’s the sign of all good records, regardless of length.

Best tracks: Speed of the Sound of Loneliness, Gone Girl, Pearls

CD Odyssey Disc 1911: Master Spy

Huge love this week to my friend Ross who let me pick through some of his unwanted CDs before he parted with them, where I found many a gem, both hidden and unhidden. Assuming I keep this up, all shall appear on future editions of the CD Odyssey. I look forward to it!

Disc 1911 is… The Train

Artist: Master Spy

Year of Release: 2021

What’s up with the Cover? This cover looks like the cover of a cyberpunk novel. A barrage of questions spring to mind. How did those mysterious men in suits get that scar across their eye. Are they just clumsy with the corkscrew, or does it signify their membership in an elite league of assassins!?!

Is the woman with the eyepatch also a member, but for her the initiation cut a bit too deep? Also, why is she the only woman wearing pants? This story begs for a prequel and a sequel, and I haven’t even read the original!

Bursting out of the Futuristic City (note the flying cars) races the titular train, calling out to us to witness all the glorious mayhem, the set piece fight sequences, and chase scene after chase scene until we collapse exhausted just from watching.

And will there be aliens, you ask? Your goddamn right there will.

How I Came To Know It: I really liked Master Spy’s 2025 album “Maze Runner” (which got an honourable mention in my “Best of the Year” entry) and dug backward through their catalogue. I bought this one as a download after concluding finding it in hard copy would be impossible.

How It Stacks Up: I have two Master Spy albums, and this one is a distant second.

Ratings: 2 stars but almost 3

My renewed love of heavy metal means I sometimes get overexuberant in the purchasing world, but as the saying (sort of) goes, nothing exceeds like excess. That saying applies well to Canadian power metal band Master Spy.

Power metal requires a heavy dose of bombast, and “The Train” contains plenty. Master Spy aren’t shy about throwing a few epics into the mix as well, as evidenced by a record which has only five songs but a running time well north of 40 minutes.

A ponderous beat is welcome in doom metal, but in power metal it is the enemy and on “The Train” you get the traditional galloping energy of the genre.

Lead singer Flavio Lino has opera-adjacent vocals that are reminiscent of Iron Maiden’s Bruce Dickinson, albeit old Bruce, not young Bruce. Old Bruce still has plenty in the tank, but don’t expect him to hit that last note of the chorus of “Aces High”. Lino doesn’t even attempt such things, but his vibrato delivery and rich tone are akin to the centre range of Dickinson’s vocals.

Overall the band shows a lot of influence of Maiden – to the point where their Bandcamp review of this record notes, “if you like the long epics in the vein of Iron Maiden, you’ll probably like our music.” I do and I did.

Subject wise, the lads get into the strange fare I expect from a band of this nature. “The Policeman” is about a policeman ambushed by criminals and left for dead, but returning to exact vengeance. We imagine the action occurs during a heavy rain, with a lot of grey-on-grey tones.

But my greatest pleasure on “The Train” is a guilty one. “Alien Encounter” has the band leaning in hard to the new theme. Things start with a slower pace and a bit of bass guitar that adds mystery. The band immediately sets the scene with lines right out of Poe:

“Last night, as I was driving alone
On my way, on a small road to my summer house”

But as you can see, not with the same poetic flair. The song gets deep, as the aliens warn us the earth is doomed (disconcerting) and that they’d be back to sort us out later (whether this is an offer of support or a threat isn’t clear). Lest you doubt the narrator, he sings gustily, “…what I saw was not a dream/I’m telling you the truth”.

I like the guitar work in “Alien Encounter” plenty, and at a mere seven minutes, it is the album’s version of a radio single.

So with all this fun I was having, why the relatively low grade?

Part of this is with the lyrics that tell a story well, but don’t paint a picture. Things are very literal and the phrasing of the delivery can be a bit off Broadway or mechanical, or both. Yes, I know this is part of what this style of metal is all about, but there’s a line that gets crossed in places, notably “Cannibal Island” which is about…an island of cannibals. It sounds more like a pitch document from some movie execs than the full screenplay.

That said, the musicianship is solid. The drums are sharp and precise to the style, the guitar has great tone (although the solos vary in quality) and Lino’s old Dickenson is, well, still Dickensian.

So two stars, but a very fond two stars. I didn’t learn a lot, but I had fun.

Best tracks: The Policeman, Alien Encounter

CD Odyssey Disc 1910: Jeffrey Martin

After a stormy few days the sun’s come out. I’d say this is great weather for contemplative folk music, but the truth is I’m always up for some contemplative folk music. Don’t believe me? Read the review.

Disc 1910 is… One Go Around

Artist: Jeffrey Martin

Year of Release: 2017

What’s up with the Cover? A perennial CD Odyssey favourite – the Giant Head cover!

In this case we have the Giant Head of a person (Jeffrey Martin) that looks in need of both a shave and a shower. Possible that third “sh” word as well, although there’s no way to know other than maybe the pained look in his eyes. I get the same look about 45 minutes after I eat that fourth slice of pizza.

How I Came To Know It: I can’t recall exactly, but it likely relates to Anna Tivel, as I am a Tivel fan and the two of them collaborate a fair bit (and yes, she appears on this record).

How It Stacks Up: I have three Jeffrey Martin albums, and I put “One Go Around” in first place. I do this knowing there is another record by Martin that might still best it, but to do so is going to take five stars.

Ratings: 5 stars

Jeffrey Martin is a natural storyteller, and his songs will draw you into other places, other lives, and ultimately, yourself. You’ll mostly like it, but it will also pinch a bit. Don’t despair (or do) – it’s all part of the process.

“One Go Around” is guitar forward folk music, uncomplicated but deep. Martin is clear and concise with plenty to say. Some of the songs have a bit of country poking through, and others are the direct inheritors of Dylan both in structure and scheme. You could argue that in a couple of places it is too reminiscent of Dylan’s clever rhyming structures, but that would be unkind. Dylan just did it first, it doesn’t mean other people can’t do it. That’d be like blaming the Beatles for ripping off Buddy Holly.

Martin focuses in on quiet and often desolate moments. You can feel the space between the road signs, as his characters – some autobiographical, some merely narrative – navigate discomfort and existential dread. However, at each turn he helps you find warmth in the darkness. Most of the songs set up hard conversations in your mind, but they resolve either with a lesson learned or failing that, a realization that you can’t carry it all. Songs like these help with the weight.

Case in point, the opening track, “Poor Man”, which walks us into the kitchens and bedrooms of the working poor. Stanzas like this:

“They’ve got a baby on the way but his wife still feels empty
Says it’s hard to feel pretty when they’re always counting dimes
He sits up nights in the kitchen in the dark when it’s raining
He can’t sleep for the sound pounding in his mind”

Remind us that life’s complicated for everyone, and not having money can be a major reason for those complications. The song ends with the repeated refrain of “I’m not a bad man, I’m a poor man”.

Later Martin turns his mind to the lives of the intelligentsia, with “Billy Burroughs” a song about the tortured life of writer William S. Burroughs. Burroughs famously killed his wife by accident while attempting to shoot a shot glass off the top of her head. Martin digs into what that would have felt like for Burroughs in the years that followed, ending with the perfect summation of:

“All Jack’s horses and Ginsberg’s men
Couldn’t put him back together again
He was broken by the weight of his sin
And his pen”

Jesus. Dark stuff. Famous writers and unknown labourers alike all have their demons, and to Martin all of their stories are equal in the telling.

Martin’s guitar work is simple but played with heart and good tone – a perfect partner to his scratchy storyteller’s voice. There are other elements in the arrangements (Anna Tivel’s sublime violin on “Thrift Store Dress”, Tyler Fortier’s banjo on “Surprise, AZ”) but for most of the record everything outside of vox and guitar is back in the mix and unobtrusive.

This is exactly what you want, because when you listen to “One Go Around” nothing should get in the way of the uneasy but illuminating wisdom of these 12 songs. Each one helps you live the lives of others, examining your own through that prism, and emerging like an ancient mariner after a storm, sadder and wiser, thankful that 55 years after we first heard Dylan, there’s still greatness to be discovered.

Best tracks: all tracks

CD Odyssey Disc 1909: Josh Ritter

Welcome back. Today I review a good record, and then a great concert.

Disc 1909 is… I Believe In You, My Honeydew

Artist: Josh Ritter

Year of Release: 2025

What’s up with the Cover? I also used to take my bow out in the woods as a young boy, but there are a couple of key facts that let you know this kid is Josh Ritter, and not me.

First, this kid is wearing shorts. As a kid outside of gym class, I never wore shorts. I didn’t like ‘em. I think they’re fine now, provided it’s warm enough out, but I’m still against sandals. On this latter point this kid version of Josh and I agree.

Second, I had a way more impressive head of hair than this kid. Sorry Josh, but my hair ruled as a kid. It ain’t now what it used to be but back in the day my curls were so big and tight they could repel rainwater.

How I Came To Know It: I’m a fan and so I always check out Josh Ritter albums. I don’t always like them, but since I knew I was going to see him on this album’s tour, it was a safe bet I’d buy the record. And here we are!

How It Stacks Up: I have six Josh Ritter albums. He has thirteen albums, so as you can guess, he’s not an “always” thing for me. “I Believe In You…” is on the edge, so I’ll rank it sixth. Last in my current collection, but still middle of the pack overall.

Ratings: 3 stars

I like my Ritter on the folksy side, with the production a little undercooked. Ritter likes his folk on the rocky side, with his production varied and unpredictable. There are whole records where he pushes me too far and I must wag my finger at full arm extension, as I tilt my head back imperiously and declare, “You cut that out! I won’t buy it, Josh, I won’t!”

His latest release, “I Believe In You, My Honeydew” is, fortunately, not such a record. It has much to recommend it, but is still a microcosm of the Ritter experience, as he slides in and out of styles and tries on different arrangements like a royal in a fancy hat store.

The opening track “You Won’t Dig My Grave” is ground zero for Ritter, with its urgent half-spoken, half-sung style and a mix of electric guitar and piano trilling away in a style that would make Bruce Hornsby proud. It’s solid, but not a “must have” situation – particularly for a fellow who has already shown clear evidence that Ritter and I have a relationship that is on-again, off-again by nature.

The next song (“Honeydew (No Light)”) has a groove that tried very hard but doesn’t quite land (it is hard to funk up the folk and should be attempted only with great caution). When the reverb guitar and feedback/record scratch sounds start popping into the bridge I could feel my wagging finger rising, unbidden, from my side.

But then, on track three Josh Ritter does what he does – dropping one of the finest songs he’s ever done. “Truth Is a Dimension (Both Invisible and Blinding)” is what will always and eternally bring me back into Ritter’s orbit.

Held together by just the deliberate pluck of a single acoustic guitar, “Truth Is a Dimension…” is the narrative of a man who smokes a J, and while stargazing discovers intelligent life in the universe. Well, that’s the bones of it anyway.

In fact, it is so much more. This is a song about life, the subjective nature of truth, the impact of the observer on the observed (both externally on the world, and internally on our thoughts). It muses on the nature of the multiverse but eventually comes around to only one certainty: there’s love, there’s loss, and there’s great art – and that’s the truth.

After a relatively shaky start Josh now had me and he wasn’t going to let go. Does he go back again to that half-funky/groovy thing he does which sometimes works and sometimes feels like the musical equivalent of a smirk? Yes, he does. When you’re as gifted a songwriter as Ritter, you’ll always ride the line between smart and smart-ass. Ask Dylan. He won’t answer the question directly, but he knows.

And some of that frantic approach to the record that I had earlier viewed askance I now better appreciated for the range it was providing. As the record progressed some of the excess energy took on a decidedly church-like quality, aided by Ritter’s careful and considered use of religious iconography on songs like “Noah’s Children” and the refrain of “I hear a higher calling” on “Wild Ways”.

This pulpit-like approach culminates on the record’s final track, “The Throne” which channels greats like Nick Cave and Leonard Cohen at their most devout. Ritter holds up well with these masters. Were there some merely OK tracks between “Truth is a Dimension…” and “the Throne”? Sure there were, but in the glare of the church chords of the piano and the rock peel of the electric guitar, Ritter dispenses wise and inspired observations about life, and once again all is forgiven.

Josh Ritter is a great songwriter, but he’s not one for chasing empty crowd pleasers. His albums can go a lot of directions, and not all of those directions are going to tickle your fancy. Always brilliant and occasionally annoying, “I Believe In You, My Honeydew” was an acquired taste, laden with five-star brilliance and two-star filler. But damn it if on balance the old master didn’t win me over again.

Best tracks: Truth Is a Dimension (Invisible and Blinding), Noah’s Children, Wild Ways, The Throne

The Concert: March 19, 2026, Mary Winspear Centre, Sidney, BC

Heading out to Sidney with Sheila and our friend Casey (kudos to him for driving us), I wasn’t sure what to expect. I knew I liked Josh Ritter, but I wasn’t always keen on his production choices. But as I walked into the plush and cozy 300-seat of the small-town auditorium and saw two single acoustic guitars perched behind some Christmas lights and a lone microphone stand, I knew all was going to be well.

Thing weren’t just well, however – this ended up being one of the best concerts I have ever seen. Ritter is a born entertainer and with a stable of impressive and expressive songs built across two and a half decades, he’s got the ammunition to go with it.

The first thing that jumped out at me was Ritter’s pure and unconditional joy at just being there. His grin is infectious and the first words out of his mouth were to indicate just how thrilled he was to be performing for us. It wasn’t one of those “how are we doing tonight, Sidney?” pandering moments, either. He was happy to be there, and it showed.

Lacking a band did not prevent Ritter from creating layers of sound. He wields his guitar with a busker’s skill for making percussion, with slaps on the body and well-placed hammer-ons on the fretboard. He stepped in and out of the mic as well, creating all manner of sound while never losing that clean acoustic sound I was hoping for.

His guitars were worn and well-used, with pick guards down to the raw wood. They looked well-loved and fit right in with Ritter’s casual and unassuming style.

As for the songs, he played almost every one of my favourites from the new record (the only absence was “Noah’s Children” and frankly, of the four favourites listed above, it is #4). The others weren’t just played, they were elevated, making me love the latest record in ways I hadn’t during the studio listen.

The old standards were well chosen, and he had a knack for mixing slow contemplative pieces in with bangers, moving the energy up and down while never losing the room. A couple of times he appeared to chose a song on the spur of the moment, exclaiming “I just had an idea!” and then giving that idea a go.

The banter was also first rate, always giving additional flavour and energy to the performance and never just resorting to “explaining” a song. When he played his classic hit “Kathleen” he actually took an extended break mid-tune to tell a hilarious yarn, before returning to the final verse, showing that there is a way to keep a song fresh, even if you’ve played it a hundred times.

There were a few times where he made a mistake – usually missing a lyric or coming in late as he remembered at the back of the beat. Once he even started over again entirely. It was weirdly fine, and at times even welcome. It underscored just how thoroughly he threw himself into the moment. It happened rarely, and when it did you were on the journey with him so much, you just laughed along with him in what was less an error and more a “campfire moment” among friends.

This was one of those shows that elevated the spirit. At times you lose yourself in Ritter’s imagery and metaphor. At other times you get lost just as he does in your own thoughts, inspired by his art. I came away with a cup full of love, deep thoughts and overall gratitude that I’d gotten a chance to see him in such an intimate venue.

If you get a chance to see this guy in concert, don’t miss it.