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.

CD Odyssey Disc 1908: Enya

It’s taken ten long and random years for me to come around to the final album in my collection by this artist, but here we are! My first review of her work was Disc 11 – so long ago it was before I had the “What’s Up With the Cover?” section. Dark times for the readers, indeed.

Disc 1908 is… The Memory of Trees

Artist: Enya

Year of Release: 1995

What’s up with the Cover? The eternally beautiful Enya sitting on some sort of Throne of the Gods looking mysterious. Is she an oracle? A royal vizier? The empress of a mystical land?

Maybe she’s a half-elven bard on a thrilling fantasy adventure! More on that later…

How I Came To Know It: For a few years in the late eighties and early nineties Enya was a Big Deal. I would have bought this album, likely from a record store that no longer exists (A&B Sound or Lyle’s Place being the two most likely) the week it was released. That’s how you bought your music in 1995 – at a bricks and mortar store – and its how I still do it to this day whenever I can.

How It Stacks Up: I have five Enya albums. Of those five, “The Memory of Trees” comes in at #4. I can’t put it above “Watermark” and because “Watermark” only received two stars, I’ve done the same here, but I want you to know, dear reader, that I feel bad about this and would happily give both three stars on a day like today, where I am feeling more charitable.

As this is the last of the Enya reviews, here’s a recap:

1. Shepherd Moons: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 854)
2. Self-Titled: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 205)
3. Watermark: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 11)
4. The Memory of Trees: 2 stars (reviewed right here)
5. A Day Without Rain: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 24)

Ratings: 2 stars

What did Frodo and Sam hear when elves passed by on their journey to Bree? Probably this album. Enya’s ethereal voice and mix of English, Gaelic and Latin lyrics lends itself to enchanted forests and wandering minstrels.

I was as enchanted as everyone else by Enya back in 1995. So much so, I even had a Dungeons and Dragons character (a half-elven bard named Arlea) based largely on Enya and her music (and maybe a little Karen Matheson as well). I even made a mixed tape of songs Arlea would sing that was heavily laden with Enya songs and forced them upon my fellow gamers (I regret nothing).

Holy nerd tangents! Let’s get back to the music, shall we?

Hailing originally from Celtic band Clannad, Enya branched off into a more layered, produced sound that in the day we called New Age. How can you tell New Age from folk? All that production and overdubs is a good start. 

The New Age tricks that Enya did was to layer her own vocals multiple times, making a rich tapestry of sound. It works because her voice, which is sweet and gentle, lends itself to the treatment.

Whatever you think of how an Enya song is produced, there is no denying the lift your heart gets when she climbs into the higher parts of her register. There is something otherworldly going on in that voice that transcends the human – like she’s made a deal with a leannán sídhe or maybe is one. Either way, we’re the fortunate beneficiaries of her instrument.

As with most Enya albums, she puts one jumpy number on there to draw in the audience and to get some MTV/MuchMusic playing time. On “The Memory of Trees” this offering is “Anywhere Is”. It’s a catchy number, despite some cringe-worthy sing song moments in the lyrics like “In motion on the ocean/The moon still keeps on moving”. Not bad written down but a bit twee out loud.

This is what we sign up for with an Enya record, though. If you don’t think you’re going to get a heathy does of ‘twee’ and ‘dear’ from a record that has song titles like “China Roses” and “Tea-House Moon” then you are fooling yourself.

The good news is that while some of those tracks are forgettable “background while browsing the antiques store” fare, there are also plenty that provide a lift to the spirit in a way few other artists can accomplish. Enya’s quiet grace got me through many a dark time in my life and you could do a lot worse than laying in the dark listening to “the Memory of Trees,” letting the weariness wash away on the waves of the motion on the ocean.

Best tracks: Anywhere Is, Athair Ar Neamh, Hope Has a Place, On My Way Home

CD Odyssey Disc 1907: Arch Enemy

Welcome back to the CD Odyssey, where I slowly but surely review every single record in my collection – in random order. Let’s get after it, shall we?

Disc 1907 is… Will to Power

Artist: Arch Enemy

Year of Release: 2017

What’s up with the Cover? You know, the usual. Four skulls and a couple of snakes, artfully arranged into a logo that is somewhere between Satan’s wet dream and a taxidermist’s trick gone wrong.

We’ve got the heads of a wolf, a goat, and a bat and right in the middle the Devil’s favourite plaything – people.

How I Came To Know It: I was only recently introduced to Arch Enemy and have been digging furiously through their back catalogue (furious at myself for having missed out until now). This was one of several finds on that journey.

How It Stacks Up: I’m not sure. I have seven Arch Enemy albums (see “furiously” modifier above) but they are all fairly new to me. I know I like this band a lot, so I’m going to assume “Will to Power” is around sixth best, since I can’t see one of my Arch Enemy records being lower than three stars.

Ratings: 3 stars

Arch Enemy has invaded my music collection a lot like their music would suggest – fast, aggressive, and with no apologies. “Will to Power” is yet another entry in their long, storied, and successful music canon/cannon. I keep coming back to this band for one simple reason: they’re great.

To fully appreciate Arch Enemy it is important to go in expecting ALL THE METAL. They don’t discriminate. Soaring guitar work of power metal, guttural growls of black metal, the groove of thrash, and the gloomy atmosphere of doom (albeit a sped up version). Arch Enemy isn’t prog in their approach to shifting gears mid-song, but rather students of all the styles, and have found a unique way to mix them together.

“Will to Power” is the second studio album by the band with new vocalist (and fellow Canadian!) Alissa White-Gluz. There isn’t a lot to separate White-Gluz and previous singer Angela Gossow in terms of quality. They are both excellent, able to bring melody and structure even while growling at you. White-Gluz is a bit more melodic, but this could also be the evolution of the band’s sound.

Case in point, “Reason to Believe” which features ‘regular’ vocals from White-Gluz where she shows that if she wanted to she can sing just as sweetly as any other rock goddess out there. Lest you think she’s going soft, she switches back to the growl for the chorus, tough as ever.

Holding down the album’s mid-range and gluing vocals drums and stylistic shifts together is the ever-present brilliance of Michael Arnott on guitar. The one constant through Arch Enemy’s storied career, Arnott is able to play with precision and speed, but always with a crying tone that adds an underlay of emotion to songs that, without him, might descend into empty aggression.

In terms of lyrics, I expected an album evoking a book by Nietzsche would be a bit more inspired, but “Will to Power” was instead pretty by the numbers. The songs are mostly variants of resisting the crowd and standing strong and proud in your iconoclastic rebellion. Yeah, it appeals, but the writer in me is always eager for a more complex narrative or character study.

Also, the switch from style to style mid-song is a bit like a high-performance engine – driven just right it is pure joy, but you can also blow the head gasket off if you time the shift wrong. “Will to Power” rides the edge well, but every now and then it loses its organic, natural glide through the progressions. Not often, but enough to knock it down a star, if only just.

No serious complaints though. I spent three fine days of actual driving in my commute to this album with very few complaints to show for it. It isn’t the album I would “gateway” someone into Arch Enemy, but it’s a worthy entry in their body of work.

Best tracks: Blood in the Water, The World Is Yours, Reason to Believe, A Fight I Must Win

CD Odyssey Disc 1906: William Prince

I apologize the stretch between posts. This was a combination of a heavy work schedule and being out on Tuesday night at a concert when I’d ordinarily be at home writing.

On the plus side this means that we get a bonus concert review – it appears immediately below the end of this studio album review, as is traditional here at the Odyssey.

We also have a new streak to track: albums made by people named William. As of this next record it stands at two.

Disc 1906 is… Further From the Country

Artist: William Prince

Year of Release: 2025

What’s up with the Cover? The aforementioned Mr. Prince, looking contemplative against a backdrop of sunset and stars.

How I Came To Know It: I was already a fan of William Prince through his 2020 album “Reliever” (reviewed back at Disc 1476), and check in on his new albums when they arrive.

How It Stacks Up: I have two William Prince albums. Of those two, “Further From the Country” narrowly lands in second. No shame – I just liked “Reliever” slightly better.

Ratings: 3 stars

Life’s not fair. Some of us get our one and a half octaves of scratchy/dodgy tenor and some of us get the rich velvet baritone of William Prince. Fortunately, through the power of technology, that glorious voice can travel with us in our homes, cars and walks. I had this record going for a full week and enjoyed it in all three of those venues.

“Further from the Country” is aptly named, as Prince explores arrangements and approaches that feel more atmospheric and mystical than previous efforts. No doubt this is partly the influence of members of Boy Golden.

That said, the opening – and title – track had me nervous. It was a bit too meandering and atmospheric for my tastes, and I felt nervous that my beloved baritone troubadour would be drowned in a soup of production.

Alas, my fears were ill-founded as after that opening experimentation, Prince returns to a more well-trodden country foundation. Yes, it’s a thicker sound, and there’s a piano rounding things out, but the tunes still have their foundational bones in back roads and pickup trucks, just as I like it.

The songs have the usual introspective qualities of William Prince’s earlier work, many focusing on exploring memories of his father, or just earlier wilder times. The songs don’t celebrate that wildness but rather seek redemption for any hurt caused along the way.

The best song for this (and my favourite on the album) is “All the Same” which starts with this heartbreaking scene:

“I had a good friend
Life cut short by his own hand
Everybody but his old man
Seemed so surprised

“He was a younger man than I
Didn’t think to say goodbye
Now the last time that we spoke’s the last time.”

Hard words, but Prince has a talent for taking on hard subjects – suicide, substance abuse, violence – and giving them grace and a safe place to explore from. It isn’t sugar coated, and lines like “and my hand’s messed up/from a fight I had to finish” shows that it ain’t ever as simple as just saying, “don’t do that”. Life’s complicated, but forgiveness is there if look for it.

The other standout is “The Charmer” a song dedicated to Prince’s father, a gregarious fellow who right to the end was even charming the hospital nurses. The love is evident, and the gentle, meaningful ways that Prince explores loss – supercharged with the velvet power of a voice – is transformative.

There are some songs I didn’t love. As noted above, the opener was too diffuse and unfocused for me, and “Thousand Miles of Chain” felt like a song that didn’t know what it wanted to be, but these are minor quibbles. Overall, another fine record from an artist who still has the magic in both his voice and pen.

Best tracks: For the First Time, All the Same, Damn, The Charmer

The Concert: March 2, 2026 at the Royal Theatre, Victoria BC

I always enjoy a show at the beautiful Royal Theatre, and we were particularly excited (thanks to Sheila’s excellent selection) to have seats right on a break between rows, leaving plenty of legroom. Mostly, though I was excited to see not one, but two artists I like, having just found out earlier in the week that the opener was Boy Golden (his previous release, “For Jimmy” was my #1 album of 2023 (Disc 1699)).

Boy Golden

Boy Golden took to the stage with the self-possessed dignity of a band that knew they would own it, and did not disappoint. My previous time seeing them there was a jubilant slightly manic feel to the performance. That energy was still present, but it had softened around the edges and their ability to hold the crowd in more subtle ways was on display.

The band played a short but well-structured set that included old favourites from previous records, but focused on their new material which was, according to frontman and creative force Liam Duncan, “mostly bangers”. Sure.

The guitarist (name escapes me) played with a sublime softness in his tone that suited the blend of country wisdom and grass-stained feel of many of the songs (n.b. – not the kind of grass you lie down on). He had three guitars and one had an incredibly large whammy bar. I know it’s not about the size of your whammy bar, but how artfully you pull on it, but still, just sayin’. It was large.

The drummer (apologies – again missed her name) was well loved by the audience and had a set of pipes on her she showed off in two songs (one as a lead, one as a duet). She played portions with brushes that leaned into the soft and rounded feel of the guitar.

I was sad to see Boy Golden off so early (the fate of all openers) and much as I love William Prince, if I’d had my druthers I’d have swapped headliner and opener.

William Prince

When William Prince came on stage there was a prolonged period where the stage was black and ambient music played and it all felt very psychedelic rock and roll for what was, ultimately, a country show. I kinda liked it, and it primed the crowd and made sure everyone was paying attention.

Including himself, Prince fronts a seven-member band which is a lot of members for someone who isn’t, you know, Prince. One more band member and Canadian law would have required all the songs to be played as ska.

The set list was exactly the right mix of new and old, and if anything I enjoyed the records off the new album better live than on CD, which is always a good sign. (If Neil Young had been there, he’d have moved a motion that “live music is better” bumper stickers be issued. IYKYK…

New album highlight was the song “The Charmer” in honour of his father, and he gave the audience (including me) what they wanted with the old favourite, “The Spark”. I would have liked him to work “The Gun” into the set, which is one of my old faves, but a concert should always leave you wanting more.

During the encore the audience (many of whom were clearly veterans of Prince’s live shows) shouted out tunes, and to my surprise he agreed to play one – “Goldie Hawn”. I’m pretty sure it was improvised, partly because he briefly jumped a verse, before correcting himself with an impish smile that shows he has inherited no small part of the “charmer” from his father.

Prince has a truly thankful and humble quality to him that draws you in and makes you feel he’s as happy to be there as you are.

As for the crowd, they were one of the best crowds I’ve spent an evening with in some time. They were thoroughly engrossed in the show, gave great feedback and were careful to not be disruptive of other people’s good times while having theirs (one woman stood up in front of people during “The Spark” but it was one song only and she was really excited to hear it, so we shall give her a pass).

Best of all, there were nary a cell phone raised anywhere in my vision. Apart from a few discrete pictures people were there to engage with the music directly, not prove later on Tik Tok they’d been there. Awesome, and something for us all to learn from.

Sheila and I talked to the folks sitting near us, all of whom loved William Prince a lot - one couple had seen him seven times. All crowds should be this great.

The merch table was also solid, with a good selection of shirts n’ stuff. One guy sitting nearby said to me “that stuff is all garbage” but he was speaking generally of merch tables, not this merch table. Also, he was wrong. It’s another way to support the band, mister and also keeps me from being denied service at local restaurants for want of a shirt.

Overall, this was a fine show, with two great acts, both of whom I’d seen before, and both of whom I would see again.