Happy Canada Day! I feel lucky every day to live in this vast and amazing country full of natural beauty, human opportunity and wonderful music.
As long-time readers will know I don’t favour artists based on country of origin, and I roll my reviews randomly, so even on Canada Day I don’t select a Canadian artist. Up next, a talented American singer/songwriter.
Disc 1936 is…Couples Only
Artist: Queen Kwong
Year of Release: 2022
What’s up with the Cover? Carre Kwong Callaway (aka Queen Kwong) holds a balloon. With her face partially obscured by the balloon it is hard to read her expression, but the balloon lets us know she may be thinking about a cat she loves. I, too, love cats.
I ordered this album through Bandcamp and this cover is personalized by Callaway, including both a signature and that balloon message (the actual cover just has a blank balloon – no words). This makes my album cover unique, which is kinda cool. Queen Kwong also sent me a sticker, so thanks for the personal touch!
On the back of the CD sleeve Kwong also added the message “Thank you for the support!” and a graphic of a cat exhorting me to “play it loud!”. You're welcome, and will do.
How I Came To Know It: My lovely, talented partner Sheila (of Ephemera fame) introduced me to Queen Kwong – thanks, Sheila!
How It Stacks Up: I have two Queen Kwong albums. I like them about equally and for slightly different reasons, but if forced to choose – which is literally what this section is doing – I put “Couples Only” in at #1.
This is not – as you may charge – cheating. Honestly re-assessing your position based on all that you know in the moment, and not relying on an artificial construct established from, say, a review you wrote on Canada Day 2026, is a fundamental principle of living an examined life. Ask Sartre or Camus and they’ll fill you in on the details.
Ratings: 3 stars
Queen Kwong is a talented singer-songwriter who explores the space between pop, rock and electronic music in creative and mentally stimulating ways. This space is a busy intersection of sound, however, and sometimes the traffic can get a bit congested if you’re a fan of sparse production like I am.
The record starts with a trio of what would end up being the best tracks, and also a good cross-section of the range to expect stylistically on the record.
“I Know Who You Are” is a mix of atmospheric reverb guitar and a funky synth beat. Kwong’s vocals are part singing/part spoken word with a bunch of overdub or at least a mic effect that mirrors it. This is music for underground after-hours lounges where men in tight shirts show off their tattooed pipes and women sit on old brocade couches and let their skirts ride up while pretending not to notice. It sounds, in a word, cool.
Lyrically, “I Know Who You Are” is also what you’d expect, with undercurrents of desire, betrayal and a whole lot of drama. Sit on that couch and introduce yourself at your peril, because you’re going to hear a lot of dirt about a lot of people you don’t know.
“EDMR ATM” follows this up, doubling down on the moody, sexy, and unsettling intersection of the opener. This song also doubles down on the grievance theme, with a refrain of “Gave up my baby and the homewrecker won.” Even without context this sounds like an awful experience all around. Fun random fact: On the first couple of listens I misheard the lyrics and thought Kwong was singing “gave up my baby and a whole rack of wine” which had me thinking that maybe the implied couple had been into wine and that this was a bone of contention during the breakup.
Rounding out the trifecta of the album’s great opener is “Sad Man” which has Kwong imagining an aging singer bemoaning their failure to make it big and having to playing shitty dive bars instead. This song showcases Kwong’s talent as a spoken word poet, with some of the strongest imagery and a clear delivery that imparts the weary exasperation of the titular character.
The latter half of the record plays off these early-established themes but lacks the same degree of focus things start with. The saturated production starts to edge into further degrees of experimentation, some of which lands and some of which feels unnecessarily diffuse.
Kudos, however, to late record highlight “On the Run” at Track 8, which brings in an early sixties crooner/doo wop beat that makes you want to sway with your girl at the Grad ’64 prom. It’s a song that’s just as full of heartache and pain of what comes before but has a romantic streak that the record needs in that moment.
The trio of songs that wrap the record following “On the Run” are not as strong, descending into the production soup, but stylistically similar enough to have me longing for what came before. Even in these moments where things get busy or a bit too “EDM-adjacent” for my personal taste, I still admired the architecture of the song. In the end, while this record isn’t typically what is in my wheelhouse, it still won me over.
Best tracks: I Know Who You Are, EDMR ATM, Sad Man, On the Run
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