CD Odyssey Disc 678: Cypress Hill

Happy Saturday! My previous entry was written moments before I watched the Dolphins play the Bills. We killed ‘em! There are few things that can make my week like a Dolphins victory over the hated Buffalo Bills.

Speaking of killin’ folks, this next review is for a band who sings about that often.

Disc 678 is…. Black Sunday

Artist: Cypress Hill

Year of Release: 1993

What’s up with the Cover? It’s a creepy cemetery on a hill. I don’t know what kind of tree that is at the top, but I don’t think it’s a cypress, so much as I’d like to I can’t call this a cypress hill cemetery.

How I Came To Know It: I bought their first album after my buddy Spence introduced me to them about fifteen years ago and liked it. “Black Sunday” was actually their more famous record, and I bought it shortly thereafter.

How It Stacks Up:  I have five Cypress Hill albums – I believe their first five. I like them all, but I have to give the crown to “Black Sunday” as the best, narrowly defeating their self-titled debut. And since this is the final review of their work (until I buy more) here is the full recap because hey – who doesn’t love a list?

1. Black Sunday:  4 stars (reviewed right here)
2. Self-Titled:  4 stars (reviewed at Disc 76)
3. III Temples of Boom:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 177)
4. Til Death Do Us Part:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 57)
5. IV:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 124).

Rating: 4 stars

It’s been a long time since the last Cypress Hill review from my collection (over four years) but it was worth the wait.

Although it has been a while, certain things remain constant when listening to Cypress Hill.

First, you can expect some groovy bass-lines, every bit as important to the song as the beat. Cypress Hill spill their raps over bass riffs as much as they do straight beats. The effect is a bit dreamy; kind of like hanging in a lounge listening to jazz, but where someone has murdered the piano player and is now standing on top of the grand spitting rhymes. On “Hits from the Bong” the band branches out to a guitar sample (the opening from Dusty Springfield’s “Son of a Preacher Man”) but the effect is the same.

Another constant is what the band raps about, and the list is pretty limited:

1.   Killin' folks

2.   Smokin' dope

3.   Killin' folks tryin' to take your dope

“Black Sunday” is the band at their best on every topic, with hard-as-nails staccato raps about killin’ folks including “I Ain’t Goin’ Out Like That” “Cock the Hammer” and my personal favourite “A to the K” (as in AK-47, although I am ashamed to admit I had to have that explained to me).

Their passion for dope-smoking is front and centre on rap classics like “Insane in the Brain” and the aforementioned “Hits From the Bong.” Cypress Hill will never be mistaken for metaphysical poets, layering metaphor after metaphor; these raps are direct and clear.  From “Hits from the Bong”:

“It goes down smooth when I get a clean hit

Of the skunky funky smelly green shit

Sing my song, puff all night long

As I take hits from the bong”

So yeah, pretty much a song about smokin’ dope, without much plot development beyond that. Fortunately, the raps are so good and well-delivered that you don’t need anything else. There is brief foray into politics, such as on “Legalize It” but as you have likely already guessed, that song relates pretty directly back to theme #2. They aren’t advocating shooting anybody on that song, but it’s only 45 seconds long and it isn’t long before they’re on to theme #3, such as this section from “A to the K”:

“If you're takin' my weed, I'm takin' over your spot

Keep your face down as I take your pound

Don't let me see nobody get up, just hug the ground

Stay still and don't make a sound

As I get out the door headed eastbound

But why did the fool try to act brave?

Clip from the nine equals six to the grave”

“Black Sunday” also has a re-imagining of a song off their first album, “Hand on the Pump” which is now “Hand on the Glock.” The first song is cruising around the neighbourhood with a shotgun, and the second is cruising around with a Glock. So, you know, progress. Although I prefer the original, both are good and sufficiently different to stay interesting.

My only complaint with “Black Sunday” is the number of times lines from the chorus are shouted in repeat in the same affected style. It is a pretty cool effect at first, underscoring the lyrical hook of songs like “I Ain’t Goin’ Out Like That” and “Insane in the Brain” but they use it at least four times, where I think two or three would be plenty.

This is a minor quibble though, on an amazing rap record from a band that consistently and fearlessly raps about hard-won experience in some of the worst parts of greater Los Angeles. These are places where white collar middle-aged men like me are rightly afraid to go, and it is an urban education to see the brutality of it all from a band that is far more musical and compositionally clever than they get credit for.

Best tracks (with artists): I Ain’t Goin’ Out Like That, When the Shit Goes Down, Cock the Hammer, Hits from the Bong, A to the K, Hand on the Glock, Break ‘Em Off Some

CD Odyssey Disc 677: Guy Clark, plus a Smalls concert review

Once again a giant album necessitated my absence from blogging for a few more days than I would have liked. Given the delay, it seems only right that this entry have Extra Limited Edition Content this time – and I give you that in the form of a concert review for the Smalls. Scroll to the bottom if that interests you, and this album doesn’t.

I admit that despite all this extra content, I am distracted tonight by my two favourite sports teams in the world (the Miami Dolphins and the Boston Bruins), who are both playing their arch-nemeses at this very minute (the hated Buffalo Bills and the equally reviled Montreal Canadiens). I am taping the football game and as soon as I am done here, that’s my next stop. I’d tape both, but I’m afraid one will announce the score of the other while I’m watching.

Anyway, it’s all very nerve wracking, but I’ll try to stay focused on the music for the time it takes to fill you in about the next album on the CD Odyssey. And the Smalls, of course.

Disc 677 is…. This One’s For Him: A Tribute To Guy Clark

Artist: Various Artists

Year of Release: 2011

What’s up with the Cover? Guy Clark with his wife Susanna. This picture was unexpectedly poignant for me, because in the process of confirming Susanna’s name I found out that she had died of cancer in 2012, only a year after this compilation came out. Guy and Susanna were married for forty years. As youthful as they appear in this picture, it is a reminder that we’ve only got so many days on this earth with the people we love, so enjoy each and every one of them.

How I Came To Know It: I only came to know this album very recently. I was listening to some Emmylou Harris tracks on Youtube and her duet with John Prine of “Magnolia Wind” came up on the playlist. After a bit of sleuthing I discovered it was off of “This One’s For Him.” The album’s track list was full of many of my favourite Guy Clark songs, many sung by artists I really admired. I ordered it on Amazon along with three of Guy Clark’s originals. Yeah, there’s been a lot of Guy Clark around the house lately.

How It Stacks Up:  This is a compilation of a bunch of cover songs, so it doesn’t really stack up. As compilations go, it is pretty sweet, though.

Rating: 4 stars

When I rolled this album I was instantly reminded of Guy Clark’s song “Old Friends,” partly because a lot of these songs feel like old friends for me, and partly because I just finished giving the whole album a marathon listen (three straight times through) right before I randomly rolled it. There isn’t a better test than that if an album is going to hold up than a whole lot of listens in a short period of time. “This One’s For Him” performed very well.

“This One’s For Him” was recorded to celebrate Guy Clark’s 70^th birthday, and it is a worthy present for the occasion. Clark’s music tends to be a lot of countrified musing and moseying, expertly done in a relaxed and conversational tone that is uniquely his own. Clark rarely strays from his formula, and so it makes sense that his tribute album is pretty much entirely done by country artists in a country style.

Often on these compilations I prefer to hear a song get a very different treatment from the original, but “This One’s For Him” still works based on the fairly consistent work of the artists involved. There are a lot of artists involved, too, with thirty songs spread across two albums, and over two hours of music. Fortunately, this is one double album worthy of the excess.

Many of the singers were well known favourites for me (Steve Earle, Lyle Lovett, Kris Kristofferson, Patty Griffin) and others were complete unknowns (Kevin Welch, Rodney Foster, Jack Ingram) and I enjoyed both in fairly equal measure.

For the most part if it was a Guy Clark favourite for me originally, I tended to like the cover as well, but there were some notable exceptions. Vince Gill singing “The Randall Knife” just didn’t work at all. Clark’s version is full of the hurt and heartbreak of losing a father, and Vince Gill’s sounds like a hokey campfire performance. Patty Griffin, who I usually love, doesn’t really work on “The Cape” either. Maybe I’ve just heard Guy Clark singing the hell out of that song too many times.

While Guy Clark is not known as the world’s most talented singer, he is a master of emotion and phrasing. He is also a damn fine songwriter, and it is fun to hear his songs done by other artists who can really belt it out, like Suzy Bogguss on “Instant Coffee Blues” Rodney Crowell on “That Old Time Feeling” and the Trishas singing beautiful harmonies on “She Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere.” The often-underrated Bogguss is particularly brilliant as she sings about an awkward one-night stand, filling Clark’s lyrical mastery with a woman’s perspective.

Then again a lot of the other vocalists are just as limited as Clark himself. Fortunately they picked folks with enough folksy charm of their own to pull it off. Examples include a rusty-voiced Kris Kristofferson singing “Hemmingway’s Whiskey” (and sounding like he’s had too much of it over the years), and John Townes Van Zandt singing “Let Him Roll.”

A favourite for me is Steve Earle singing “The Last Gunfighter” as he spits out Clark’s masterful tale of an aging, once dangerous man now lost in a world that has passed him by. It is Steve Earle we’re talking about, so it is hard to go wrong even if the lyrics were sub-par, and with Clark they rarely are. “The Last Gunfighter” is some of his best work.

The album has a lot of favourites, though, and the pairing of fresh voices with great Guy Clark material is a wonderful thing. If you are interested in Guy Clark, I’d suggest starting with 1995’s “Dublin Blues” but once you have his ‘voice’ in your head, “This One’s For Him” will give you a nice overview of some of his classics, sung by the many musicians that his talent has touched over the years.

Best tracks (with artists): That Old Time Feeling – Rodney Crowell, Anyhow I Love You – Lyle Lovett, Homeless – Shawn Camp, Magdalene – Kevin Welch, Instant Coffee Blues – Suzy Bogguss, Let Him Roll – John Townes Van Zandt, Cold Dog Soup – James McMurtry, Magnolia Wind – Emmylou Harris & John Prine, The Last Gunfighter Ballad – Steve Earle, LA Freeway – Radney Foster, She Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere – The Trishas,

Bonus content – Smalls Review! Saturday, November 8 at Sugar

On Saturday Sheila and I went with a bunch of our friends to a reunion concert of the Smalls. I’d only heard a few of their tracks on Youtube, so all I really knew was they played a sort of groove metal/grunge hybrid and that their bass player was Corb Lund. Having seen them live, I now know why fifteen years after they broke up they still have so many dedicated fans.

The Smalls kicked some serious ass live. They were tight, energetic and heavy as hell but still melodic. The show was at Sugar nightclub, which among other lame things 1) scans your driver’s licence through a machine before letting you in 2) requires you to check your coat (although I somehow managed to walk by when they weren’t paying attention) and 3) gives every guy a full frisk/pat down on the way in.

The show itself was like a time machine, but in an alternate universe where everyone had somehow remained cool when they got old. The audience was packed with seriously dedicated Smalls fans, many of them visibly drunk, but still able to sing along and knowing every song by rote. There were even dudes with full “Smalls” back-patches on their jean jackets, which is very cool for a lesser-known band.

The dance floor in front of the stage was crammed with slam-dancing drunks (I was happily up in a balcony). Watching them flow to the music was soothing – like losing yourself watching waves during a storm. No fights resulted, but I noticed that in maneuvering my way in and out of the bathroom everyone was very quick to say ‘sorry’ to each other and show respect – I think it was the knowledge that everyone around you was seriously jacked on adrenaline and…er…Jack Daniels that kept everyone hyper polite off the floor.

In short, it was a great crowd and a great show. I bought all four of their albums from the merch table. I was only going to get a couple, but as I was trying to pick, nearby hard-core fans kept pointing emphatically at different albums insisting that was the one I should get. This went on for a bit, until one extremely loaded dude just waved his hand vaguely over the lot of them and said – “Fuck! All of them, dude” – I took his advice, because I sensed in that moment he was my true spirit guide, and that I could trust him. 

CD Odyssey Disc 676: Nightwish

Last night I got to join in the celebration of my friend Casey’s 50^th birthday. I am fortunate to have a lot of truly great friends, and Casey is one of the best. He’s a man of honour, intellect and deep emotion. I’m proud to call him my friend.

We also share a lot of the same musical tastes, although likely not this next album.

Disc 676 is…. Oceanborn

Artist: Nightwish

Year of Release: 1998

What’s up with the Cover? Why can’t all album covers be this awesome? We’ve got a beautiful woman floating in the sea of some starlit world. Another world – possibly earth – hangs large in the sky. That world is simultaneously the eye of some enormous space dragon (that last detail made you look again didn’t it?).  I do wonder how Water Woman is going to read that message from Owl Post without getting it soaking wet.

How I Came To Know It: A few years ago I watched Sam Dunn’s documentary miniseries “Metal Evolution.” The episode on Power Metal got me interested in Nightwish as well as Helloween. I bought this album as well as 2002’s “Century Child” the same day from a cool metal store in Vancouver called Scape Records.

How It Stacks Up:  For now I only have those two Nightwish albums, but I might get more (that groan you heard was Sheila reading this). Of the two, I’d put “Oceanborn” second best, but still good.

Rating:  3 stars but almost 4

Through the first third of listening to “Oceanborn” I just wasn’t connecting to it, so I decided to try it drunk. Suddenly it all made sense. Even the next day, sober again as I walked to work, I was still keyed in to the majesty of Nightwish.

Nightwish is a symphonic power metal band from Finland. They’ve got the whimsy of Jethro Tull, the madcap prog organs of Deep Purple, the neo-operatic vocals of Loreena McKennitt, the metal energy of Iron Maiden and the incomprehensibly nerdy lyrics of Ronnie James Dio.  They are kind of like the London Philharmonic on speed.

Despite the occasional intrusion of modern metal’s double-bass drumming, “Oceanborn” is fundamentally melodic. The music soars and dances around on power chords that are played sharp and precise with a controlled energy that makes you want to throw your arms in the air and make a bunch of dramatic gestures, if only to get some of it out of your system.

The musicianship is excellent, but the vocals of lead singer Tarja Turunen is what puts this band in a class of their own. She has the chops of an opera singer and classic training to put them to maximum use. Her voice soar over the arrangements in the same way that Bruce Dickinson anchors Iron Maiden.  

Turunen’s voice is so high and pure that it doesn’t really matter what she’s singing about, which is a good thing, because Nightwish loves their overwrought poetry, and “Oceanborn” is no exception.

This is stuff that if I’d heard it when I was fourteen I would’ve thought it was the height of cool. At forty-four it feels silly, but in a fun way that speaks to the fourteen year old still inside me. Here are a few choice lines:

From “Devil & the Deep Dark Ocean”:

“A snowy owl above the haunted waters

Poet of ancient gods

Cries to the neverending story

Prophecy of becoming floods.”

Yup – there’s that owl from the cover again. At least we know what his deal is, although I think a prophecy of coming floods would have made a lot more sense.

Here’s an excerpt from “Sacrament of Wilderness”:

“Dulcet elvenharps from a dryad forest

Accompany all charming tunes

Of a sacrament by a campfire

A promise between the tameless

And the one with a tool

Tonight the journey from a cave begins.”

Like Ronnie James Dio before her, Turunen manages to sing this bumpf with enough power and passion that it almost makes sense.

Unfortunately, a couple of tracks feature guest vocalist Tapio Wilska (from the band Sethian) singing a few verses alongside Turunen, metal-duet style. “Devil & The Deep Dark Ocean” and “The Pharaoh Sails to Orion” both feature his guttural fantasy-rap stylings. These are bad to begin with, but matched against Turunen’s vocal chops it is painful to listen to.

The album gets better for me as it goes along, but that could just be me getting more immersed in the emotion of it all.. You might think it was the liquor talking, but I gave it a full sober second listen this morning. I still preferred the middle and end of the record where songs like “Passion and the Opera” and “Swanheart” create beautiful layers of sound, ranging from Celtic to classical to heavy metal in a single song without ever straining to do so.

My copy of “Oceanborn” was a 2007 reissue with both the two extra songs on their Japanese release (“Sleeping Sun” and “Nightquest”) as well as a few live tracks.

The live tracks are mostly forgettable, but both “Nightquest” and “Sleeping Sun” are worth having. “Sleeping Sun” is a crooning ballad that drags your yearning heart through a darkness so romantic you want to marry it. The song also has some of the prettiest guitar work on the record, slower but more full and emotional.

“Oceanborn” is an odd mix of styles, and it isn’t for everybody, but if you’re like me and prefer your metal melodic and full of bat-shit crazy storytelling, it is worth checking out.

Best tracks:   Stargazers, Sacrament of Wilderness, Passion and the Opera, Swanheart, Sleeping Sun

CD Odyssey Disc 675: Jenny Lewis

The day I bought this next album (unheard and entirely on spec) I did the same with Tom Petty’s new album, “Hypnotic Eye.” It was a good day for guessing.

Disc 675 is…. The Voyager

Artist: Jenny Lewis

Year of Release: 2014

What’s up with the Cover? Even Jenny Lewis’ torso is stunning, particularly in this kick-ass blazer. Other pictures in the liner notes reveal that she has matching pants and guitar, which looks even cooler. She’s like a female California Elvis.

How I Came To Know It: Sheila first discovered Jenny Lewis as an artist, but I bought this album because it was new music by an artist I already liked and the first single was promising – I hadn’t heard anything else. Basically the way we used to buy music back in the day.

How It Stacks Up:  I have three Jenny Lewis solo albums, plus one with her working as one half of Jenny + Johnny with her boyfriend Johnathan Rice. I’m gonna count this last one in the ‘stack up’, because I feel like it. I’ll exclude the five albums she did as part of Rilo Kiley, though, because I feel like doing that too.

Of the four solo/Jenny + Johnny albums, I put “The Voyager” strongly in second place – almost first. To know what does take first, you’ll just have to keep reading my blog – possible for years.

Rating:  4 stars

Fifteen years in, Jenny Lewis has released her purest pop record yet. And if you think pop hooks are simple and easy then try writing one. It is hard to write pop that serves a song’s story, is pleasing to the ear, and doesn’t rip off something you heard on the radio on the way to work that morning. Jenny Lewis’ melodies are like water in a river; easy, free and fluid; meandering at times, but never without direction.

“The Voyager”s opening track “Head Underwater, ”a fitting starting point for the river of songs to follow. Both musically and lyrically this is a song that is uplifting, while staying mindful of life’s many challenges. Jenny’s voice climbs up and down he melody effortlessly as ever (until I tried to sing along, and found out just how hard a song this is). The song’s chorus…

“There's a little bit of magic, everybody has it

There's a little bit of sand left in the hourglass”

…is an understatement. “The Voyager” shows that while she might be thinking about her own mortality, Lewis’ talent is still going strong.

The songs on “Voyager” are beautifully served by producers Ryan Adams and Mike Viola. They manage to capture the simple beauty of Lewis’ first record “Rabbit Fur Coat” but also incorporate the pop-infused joy of her later work with Rilo Kiley.

Like a lot of Jenny Lewis’ work, the album has a lot of introspection, but “The Voyager” has replaced some of the self-doubt of her earlier work with some thoughtful perspective on her journey so far. “She’s Not Me” is thinking back on a relationship that didn’t work out and “Slippery Slopes” is about trying to make one work through whatever means necessary.

Most good albums will have a song that sneaks up on you, and for me “Slippery Slopes” is it. It isn’t a song about holding on despite temptations; it’s a song about holding on through temptation. Booze, drugs and ultimately other women all serve as the glue to keep from slipping. This leaves you wondering whether you should feel sad for the song’s character for her sacrifices, or happy she’s found love in an alternative arrangement.

The song bookends beautifully with the next track, “Late Bloomer,” which is a song about a young girl meeting another woman in Paris (Nancy) and falling in love with her, even as Nancy is looking for the man of her dreams:

“How could I resist her, I had longed for a big sister

And I wanted to kiss her, but I hadn't the nerve

We found the writer, he was just some kid from Boston

I was jealous as I watched him talking to her

But man was I astonished, he didn't look like no Adonis

But as Nancy had promised, he was heavy as lead

And he said "Come with us late bloomer, for a little while

We wanna feel that fire burning, in you little child."

Unlike the negotiations of “Slippery Slopes” the sixteen year old in “Late Bloomer” soon moves on, never seeing Nancy or the ‘Non-Adonis’ again. Timing is everything.

Despite all this sexual ambiguity, the most revealing song on the album is the single, “Just One of the Guys.” It has a beautiful down-beat, a resignation established by the music long before Jenny’s voice chimes in, beautiful like a canary in a cage. The song is an ode to the sacrifices made when you pick up your guitar, let the songs hit you, then hit the road, with the stars fading in the distance as enticingly as those in the collar of your stage-blazer. Listeners with kids will no doubt take a measure of schadenfreude when Jenny breaks it down to:

“There's only one difference between you and me

When I look at myself all I can see

I'm just another lady without a baby”

But as one of the fellow childless couples out there, I take solace in how she breaks the song down musically at the end and gives a gentle rebuke to herself and all her doubts:

“I'm not gonna break for you

I'm not gonna pray for you

I'm not gonna pay for you

That's not what ladies do”

There’s a defiance there, and an arrangement that mixes triumph and minor keys to subtly reconcile itself with the regrets of missing the road more traveled. There’s lots of ways to be a lady, and lots of ways to leave your mark; at the end of the day it is about the voyage, not the destination.

Best tracks:   Head Underwater, Just One of the Guys, Slippery Slopes, Late Bloomer, the Voyager

CD Odyssey Disc 674: The Clash

Greetings, gentle reader! It’s been almost a week since I did a blog entry – did you wonder where I was? Perhaps you thought I was on another holiday in Italy? Nope – I was just reviewing a behemoth of a record, and it took a whole week to listen to the damned thing.

Before I get to that, I want to give a shout out to my friend and fellow music enthusiast, Randall. In the wee hours I’ve often waxed poetic with Randall about my love for Blue Oyster Cult, and emboldened by his interest, I decided to pass along a list of my favourite tracks.

Not only did Randall listen to all the music, he listened to it multiple times, and then gave a thoughtful review of my selections, and Blue Oyster Cult in general. You can read it all at his blog right here. I was really touched that he took the time to get to know a band that has meant so much to me over the years. Thanks, Randall!

Disc 674 is…. Sandinista!

Artist: The Clash

Year of Release: 1980

What’s up with the Cover? The band stands in front of a brick wall, looking very urban and austere…or painfully out of place. I wouldn’t be surprised if after the photo was taken they were all mugged. Sadly, the thieves did not steal the satchels full of songs they ended up putting on “Sandinista!”

How I Came To Know It: There is a guy who works across the hall from me (let’s call him “Tom,” since that’s his name). He also likes music and sometimes we shoot the breeze about it. Turns out he likes the Clash as well, so I asked him what his favourite album was – he surprised me by saying “Sandinista!” I didn’t own it, so I decided to see what all the fuss was about.

How It Stacks Up:  Let’s just say I wasn’t impressed with Tom’s selection. I have six Clash albums and “Sandinista!” is easily the worst. Here’s the full list, since I’ve once again finished reviewing my Clash collection.

1.  London Calling:  5 stars (reviewed at Disc 258)
2. Self-Titled:  4 stars (reviewed at Disc 256)
3. Black Market Clash:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 16)
4. Give ‘Em Enough Rope:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 227)
5. Combat Rock:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 474).
6. Sandinista: 2 stars (reviewed right here).

Rating:  2 stars

More is not always better. When you decide to put every idea you come up with in the studio on a single record without any editing you don’t get a modern classic, you get a bloated mess – and that’s what “Sandinista!” is; a triple album (yes, triple) with 36 songs that should have been an EP with eight.

The album starts out very promising with the opening track “The Magnificent Seven” delivering one of the best funky bass-lines in music. Bassist Paul Simonon is never better, not even on later classics like “Overpowered by Funk.” Strummer’s rhythmic singing here is proto-rap, and totally works.

Whither the rest of the album? Unfortunately, a long descent into self-congratulatory excess.

Stylistically, the record is all over the place – punk, rock, jazz and a whole lot of reggae and dub. This is not automatically a bad thing – an album with range can be a good thing. However, when you have three albums and 36 songs it slowly becomes loose and directionless. It was like they were committed to doing it all on one record, without realizing some of it wasn’t worth doing at all.

The very next track after the magnificent “Magnificent Seven” is the sugary pop song, “Hitsville UK.” It has a bass line that sounds like it was inspired by “Mama’s little baby loves shortnin’ bread” but with less seriousness. I think the Clash intended this song to be a critique of these kinds of songs, but when you stray this close to the line, you become the monster you’re trying to mock.

I could go on, but frankly I don’t have time to explain why I don’t like the songs on this album – there’s too damned many of them. Here’s a few highlights, though, since you did come here to read about music.

“If Music Could Talk” features a directionless jazz saxophone, with the boys kind-of-sort-of talking over top of it about music. This song proves that just because music can talk doesn’t mean it’ll have anything meaningful to say.

Other songs have weird dialogue intros and outros, like on “Let’s Go Crazy” which would be a pretty cool song with Caribbean drum beats (yes, “Sandinista!” has those as well). However, I don’t want to listen to some goofy rant every time I listen to this song.

And the true low is the use of kids singing for no apparent reason. At the end of the already rambling song “Broadway” we have a little kid singing “Guns of Brixton” and doing his best to wreck it for me. Later, they repeat the error with a grade-school remake of “Career Opportunities.” It felt like I was trapped at a small town variety show.

Also it bears repeating: seriously, guys – a triple album? What the hell?

The Clash have great musicianship and loads of talent and there are plenty of good tracks as well on “Sandinista!” “Something About England” is thoughtful and catchy social commentary. “Corner Soul” captures the magic of pop crossing with punk that they did so well on their first album and “London Calling.” The reggae inspired songs show an honest love for that style, and the Clash do it well (although a lot of these tracks suffer from weird dialogue pieces noted above).

I’ll keep this album because the good songs are very good, but they can’t hold the album up on their own. The bottom line is there’s just too much musical masturbation to get through to find them.

According to Wikipedia (which is never wrong), “Sandinista!” is the highest charting album in Canada out of the Clash’s entire collection, making it to number three. That’s higher than “Combat Rock,” and “London Calling” (both of which peaked at #12. What the hell were you thinking, Canada?

Best tracks:   The Magnificent Seven, Something About England, Corner Soul, The Sound of Sinners, Police on My Back, The Call Up, Washington Bullets, Lose this Skin

CD Odyssey Disc 673: Lyle Lovett

When I travel I save space in my luggage by bringing old clothes and throwing them away as I go from place to place. It is always great to return home with a bag lighter than the one you left with.

This time I left behind a ton of old underwear and socks, and so on Saturday I went out and replaced it all. The older I get the more I appreciate the joy of new underwear.

I also bought a guitar stand so that my guitar can be ready for me to pick up when the mood hits me. Hopefully it will encourage me to play more often. Man does not live by new underwear alone.

Disc 673 is…. My Baby Don’t Tolerate

Artist: Lyle Lovett

Year of Release: 2003

What’s up with the Cover? Lyle’s waist. I like the belt buckle, but otherwise don’t dig this cover. I prefer the picture on the other side of the booklet…

How I Came To Know It:  I’ve liked Lyle Lovett for a long time. I bought this album when it came out, which is what I generally do with Lyle Lovett.

How It Stacks Up:  Lyle has had quite the career, and has eleven studio albums. I’ve got them all, and while I enjoyed “My Baby Don’t Tolerate” it is hard to rank above many of the others. I’m going to put it 8^th, marking the third time I’ve bumped down previous Lyle albums to make room. They’re all good, and hard to stack up.

Rating:  3 stars

“My Baby Don’t Tolerate” has a strong country feel, and in many ways it feels like Lyle returning to the blues-tinged country of his early albums, albeit with a relaxed don’t-hurry attitude that comes with age.

“My Baby…” took its time being birthed. It is the first album of original material since 1996’s “Road to Ensenada”. Lyle released the double-album “Step Inside This House” in 1998, but that was a tribute album to fellow Texas songwriters.

OK, so it is Lyle doing Lyle again, but is it any good? Yes, but don’t expect to be blown away with obvious singles. “My Baby…” is a relaxed record that delivers songs that sound more like standard old-school country than most of his releases.

The album has songs about driving a truck (“The Truck Song”) riding a bull (“Nothing But a Good Ride”) and drivin’ around with your girl (“Wallisville Road”). It is clear that the effect of the Texas songwriters off “Step Inside This House” encouraged Lyle back to his roots.

Most pronounced is “On Saturday Night” the story about a pill-popping family of low-lifes that would fit right in with some of the characters on his early classic record, “Pontiac.” Steel guitar and an up-beat swing belie the sad tale of drug use and dropping out.

Of course it wouldn’t be Lyle if it wasn’t jazzed up a little with some ragtime piano and blues, and even the most country of songs have instrumentation that make them decidedly urban in their souls. This ability to blend styles is what makes Lyle such a unique artist, and a big reason I keep coming back to him.

“My Baby Don’t Tolerate” is a bluesy tune about the woman you don’t want to cross, and “You Were Always There” is a moody blues number that would be at home in a piano lounge if the guy in the piano lounge was actually interesting.

There are times that songs drag out, however. Where early in his career Lyle would wrap up a musical concept in four minutes or less, on “My Baby…” he occasionally brushes up against six and it feels just a shade too long.

Lyle likes a song about a high-spirited woman, and “My Baby…” has two of them, “Cute as a Bug” and “San Antonio Girl.” The former is about trying to track down a girl that blows by you on the highway; the latter being the dangerous fun of actually being along for the ride.

Lyle’s phrasing is masterful and his vocal delivery is always a complex relationship to the song’s rhythm. His vocals are high and hurt-filled, but there’s often a wry smile in there somewhere if you listen for it.

The album ends with a couple of upbeat gospel numbers, “I’m Going To Wait” and “I’m Going to the Place.” The album would have been adequately served by just one of these tracks, but both are good so I can forgive Lyle his fervor for the art form. Also the fact that they both sound like they’ve been kicking around churches for decades, when he just wrote them is impressive. It takes a lot of work to sound timeless.

If you are just getting into Lyle Lovett, I wouldn’t recommend “My Baby Don’t Tolerate.” It is a bit too subtle in places and it doesn’t have obvious hits that you’re your ear a place to hang your hat. However, if you like what you hear on some of his other work, this is definitely an album worth adding if you want even more of his signature sound.

Best tracks:   Cute as a Bug, My Baby Don’t Tolerate, In My Own Mind, Working Too Hard, San Antonio Girl, On Saturday Night

CD Odyssey Disc 672: The Cure

It is great to be back in the swing of things. All the music I heard in Italy was their version of ‘tourist pop.’ This was basically English and American music from the 1970s and 1980s (a lot of Queen and – oddly – ELO). It was OK, but I missed the variety of my own music collection.

Here’s the latest.

Disc 672 is…. Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me

Artist: The Cure

Year of Release: 1987

What’s up with the Cover? To paraphrase Billy Idol: lips without a face got no human grace. Lips that close up just are not sexy.

How I Came To Know It:  I think I bought this on a sale rack one day. Turns out it was the 2006 re-mastered version that was supposed to come with a second disc of bonus material. No wonder it was on the sale rack.

I’m not bothered by it though – I’m happy with just the original album anyway, and it turns out I got it at a bargain.

How It Stacks Up:  The Cure have thirteen studio albums, but we only have three of them, all later offerings. In addition to “Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me” we have 1989’s “Disintegration” and 2000’s “Bloodflowers.” I prefer both of those records to “Kiss Me.” We also have the famous compilation album “Standing on the Beach” which has music from their career from 1979 to 1986, but that doesn’t stack up.

Since this is the last review of Cure albums I own, the official recap is also called for, so here it is:

1. Disintegration: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 465)
2. Bloodflowers: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 224)
3. Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me: 2 stars (reviewed right here)

 “Disintegration” and “Bloodflowers” are tied for first – I like them both equally, but that just makes for a bad list.

Rating:  2 stars

A single listen to “Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me” simply didn’t let me get a handle on this music, nor did it draw me in sufficiently to go through it a second time. There just wasn’t enough here to grab my interest.

This is not a bad Cure album by any stretch. It has all of the things that make their music so interesting and unique. Atmospheric organ and synth blend nicely with understated guitar riffs. The various parts come together seamlessly to create a melodic symphony of different sounds. Robert Smith’s voice is big and full of angst, perched on top of a layer-cake of sound that is perfect for anyone wanting to feel a little pale and wan.

For all that, there these just weren’t enough tracks that stood out for me. Those that did stand out tended to do so because they were a bit different, like the funk-inspired “Hot! Hot! Hot!” but even though it caught my ear, it didn’t make me want to hear it again.

The biggest challenge facing “Kiss Me” is its size. This is a double album of material; 18 songs and over 75 minutes of music. While the songs are serviceable enough, there aren’t enough high points or internal flow to sustain the momentum a record that big needs. When I did get to a song that struck my fancy it felt like I’d had to wait too long for it to happen.

On the plus side, one of those high points comes early, with “Catch,” a whimsical and self-deprecating memory of first love. The song makes me think of Sheila for a couple of reasons. Firstly, the lyrics feature a girl who ‘used to fall down a lot” and Sheila is known to take a face-plant from time to time. Secondly it is clearly about someone the singer thinks of fondly and often – just like I think about Sheila.

Other standouts include “Just Like Heaven” which has the classic Cure sound, a kind of twirling melody that makes you imagine you’re spinning around on a sunlight square on an autumn morning, scattering flocks of pigeons as you dance.

On the other end of the spectrum, “If Only Tonight We Could Sleep” is classic fodder for urban fantasy types that spend their weekends playing “Vampire: the Masquerade.”

“If only tonight we could sleep

In a bed made of flowers

If only tonight we could fall

In a deathless spell”

I’m not judging LARPers, mind you – I would totally spend an evening trying out “Vampire: the Masquerade” if I had the chance. The song is not nearly as promising, however. The first half is dominated by this goofy sitar that is trying way too hard to sound otherworldly and dissonant. Instead, it comes off like a combination of bad community theatre and that brown acid the crowd was warned about at Woodstock. Don’t settle for songs like this, Masqueraders. You deserve better.

Most songs on “Kiss Me” are fine, however, and there are a few real standouts as well – I can understand how a lot of people were really drawn to this record. For me, it needs to be cut down by at least two-thirds before it captures my attention. For those looking to get into the Cure, I would recommend going either earlier in their career, or trying the later albums I’ve previously reviewed. This middle ground stretches too far into the distance, without providing enough landmarks to mark the journey.

Best tracks:   Catch, Just Like Heaven, Like Cockatoos, The Perfect Girl,

Gratuitous Italy Pictures:

Me and my gal in the Bobboli Gardens, in Florence; she did not fall down once on our entire trip!

In the Uffizi Gallery, Florence - one of the most amazing pieces of sculpture I've ever seen.

CD Odyssey Disc 671: Faith No More

After the longest hiatus since I started this project, I’m back! I had a good excuse for being absent, however – I went on a holiday to Italy with Sheila and our two moms.

Italy is pretty awesome. Great art, great food and cool people, although there is a bit too much petty theft in the piazzas and train stations. If you go, stay alert and you’ll be fine.

The trip fulfilled a lifelong dream of mine to see the land of my ancestors (at least half of them). I rode a gondola in Venice, saw the David in Florence, drank wine with the locals in Monterosso, and marveled at the grandeur of the Coliseum in Rome.

Since this isn’t a travel blog I won’t go on about it too much (I didn’t get to take in any music) but I’ll leave a gratuitous Italy picture at the end of my next few posts for those interested.

Now – on to music!

Disc 671 is…. The Real Thing

Artist: Faith No More

Year of Release: 1989

What’s up with the Cover? Um…A burning bottle cap? A burning frying pan? Something is definitely burning – likely the money Faith No More paid some artist to supply this cover.

How I Came To Know It:  My friend Curt was a big fan of this record when it came out, and when everyone else was watching fish flop around and pianos explode on the video for the one single (“Epic”), Curt introduced me to the whole record (on tape, of course – this was 1989). I always liked it, but never decided to buy it until the last five years or so.

How It Stacks Up:  Faith No More has six studio albums, but like many people, “The Real Thing” is the only one I have, so I can’t stack it up.

While researching how many albums they had, however, I learned they have seven compilation/greatest hits albums. Yes, they have more compilation albums than actual albums. I’m not sure if this is hubris or just record label conflicts but note to bands – don’t do it. I have none of these compilations and am resolved to never have one.

Rating:  3 stars

“The Real Thing” is a hard album to wrap your head around. It is firmly in the rock genre, but within that large description it ranges around. The record features elements of hard rock, heavy metal, power metal, prog rock, pop melodies and even a punchy rock/rap crossover that later Nu-Metal bands would try (and spectacularly fail) to replicate.

“The Real Thing” came out at the height of the grunge movement, and it shares some of grunge’s melodic ‘wave of sound’ qualities, most notably on the powerful opening track “From Out of Nowhere”. For all that, this is not grunge record, being closer to metal with its driving guitar riffs and anthemic power chords. It could easily have been just another quality metal record, but it is clear that Faith No More aspires to push their musical limits.

The big hit is “Epic” a song that twenty-five years later is better remembered than the band itself. “Epic” is instantly recognizable, with its chugging guitar riff and strange transitions that never seem to slip into the usual rock pattern of verse-chorus-verse-chorus. The closest it comes to a chorus is the slow-build chant of “you want it all/but you can’t have it” balanced off by a rap-like shout of “It’s it – what is it?” The song ends with some creepy classical piano that would make Alice Cooper proud. In a way “Epic” sums up the whole album; an amalgam of different sounds that shouldn’t work together, yet do.

On “Falling to Pieces” the band uses song constructions better suited to the Happy Mondays or Blur, with a rock edge, and then throw in a funk bass line because – why not. “Surprise! You’re Dead” is straight metal thrash and “Zombie Eaters” is progressive rock. The instrumental “Woodpecker From Mars” even has elements of Celtic folk in it, and “Edge of the World” feels in places like a show tune.

The band can’t sit still, and while it makes it hard to hone in on their sound, it also holds your attention while you search it out.

They do a fine cover of Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs” that doesn’t do a lot of new things with the song, but still delivers it with a fresh energy that elevates it above a simple vanity project. Faith No More’s “War Pigs” was a bit of a hit among my friends when it came out, and while there is only one Black Sabbath, it is a worthy cover.

Musically the band is very tight, successfully playing songs that are complicated and need a lot of precision to avoid falling into mud. Lead singer Mike Patton has a high pitched whine that is very distinctive and works with what the band is doing, even though in more conventional music, I might find his voice annoying.

The album only has 11 tracks, but at 55 minutes still feels a bit long by the end. Given their obvious love for early seventies hard rock, I wish they’d emulated those artists and done an 8 song, 35 minute record instead. Don’t sacrifice the long-developing progginess of the songs, but just put a couple fewer on.

While all of the experimentation on “The Real Thing” might have cost Faith No More some easy record sales in either the grunge or metal genres, I’m much happier joining them on their journey of discovery.

Best tracks:   From Out of Nowhere, Epic, Falling to Pieces, Woodpecker from Mars, War Pigs

Gratuitous Italy Picture:

Venice by moonlight. The bridge to the left is the famous Rialto and the pole to the right is a gondola station - damned right I rode in one!

CD Odyssey Disc 670: Rush

I’ve got one hell of a busy Sunday ahead; so busy that I will actually…miss watching some football. This simply does not happen. Fortunately the beloved Miami Dolphins are on a bye week.

On to the album!

Disc 670 is…. Signals

Artist: Rush

Year of Release: 1982

What’s up with the Cover? The fire hydrant sends out a signal to the dog – get it? Or is it that when we see a dog and a fire hydrant we receive a signal that a certain thing is about to happen. This cover toys with the ideas of how we interpret signals and how those interpretations are instant, arbitrary and not always true. I like it!

How I Came To Know It:  I was just about to enter junior high when this album came out. It followed the huge success of “Moving Pictures” and so did very well. It seemed like everyone had it – my brother included. I used to tape songs off my brother’s record collection, which is how I got into “Signals.” The CD version I bought back in the late nineties when they re-mastered it.

How It Stacks Up:  I have 19 of Rush’s studio albums, which I believe is all of them. I like “Signals” less than I did when I was twelve, but it still has its moments. I put it around 13 – just ahead of their debut album (reviewed way back at Disc 184). Careful readers will see that this may bump around some other earlier Rush rankings. Hey – it’s a work in progress. Relax.

Rating:  3 stars

It was 1982 and so began Rush’s five year obsession with synthesizers and organs. It also began my love/hate relationship with this new direction. I still put “Hold Your Fire” as one of their great albums, but “Grace Under Pressure” is sadly lacking. Somewhere in the middle we find “Signals” alternatively infuriating and inspiring.

I’ll start with the good stuff, which includes some of the band’s better songwriting. “Signals” has Rush once again showing off their ability to come up with two or three different musical themes, then cramming them together into a single song. It shouldn’t work, but it does. It is what makes them the masters of progressive rock.

My favourite example of this on “Signals” is “The Analog Kid” which has a fast-paced bass line firing away, capturing a young boy’s excitement as he races through a hot August afternoon. Then the song shifts speeds from fast-paced thrill ride to a solemn, awe-inspiring anthem. It feels like you’ve run until you’re breathless and then lay down and just stared up at a blue sky through some green trees and let the beauty of the world soak into you.

Growing up, the two songs that appealed to me most were “Subdivisions” and “New World Man,” both of which speak to disconnects in the modern world. “Subdivisions” is the alienation felt by kids living in the suburbs. I grew up in a small town where there wasn’t really such a thing as the suburbs, but Neil Peart’s lyrics remind us that the real subdivisions are not geographic, they’re social:

“Subdivisions –

In the high school halls

In the shopping malls

Conform or be cast out.”

High school can be hard on someone trying to express individuality, and I did that a lot. I survived high school just fine in the end, but in Grade Eight the whole thing can feel pretty daunting, and this song gave me comfort – it was an anthem for those of us who wanted to do it our own way.

“New World Man” is from the perspective of a young man heading out into the world, trying to make good choices. He is aware of his own power, but not always of the ramifications of using it. Coming out in the Cold War, this song also echoes the dangers of making bad decisions in a nuclear world.

Now the not so good things about this album – and that conversation must begin with the production decisions. The whole album has a fuzzy quality about it, like it was recorded in a tin drum. The band seems to be trying to create a wall of digital sound, but it just makes the whole record sounds distant and dull. No matter how loud you turn it up, you still feel like you can’t hear it properly. It comes seriously close to wrecking the record.

Also, while Peart delivers some great lyrics on “Signals” he also gets a bit too much free rein to explore his inner nerd. The result is songs like “Chemistry” and “Countdown”. “Chemistry” is literally about the chemical reactions between cells. Peart tries to connect this theme to human interaction, but the whole thing is a stretch. If you want this kind of Rush song, then I recommend “Natural Science” off of “Permanent Waves” instead.

“Countdown” is about a space mission – likely the first launch of the space shuttle Columbia in 1981. It was a big deal when I was 11, but the idea hasn’t aged well and neither has the song.

“Countdown” also has dialogue from the shuttle launch dubbed over the music which is annoying and distracting. It is another unfortunate production decision that made me convinced that I was going to give this album two measly stars.

But then “Signals surprised me with a song I’d never properly paid attention to before – “Losing It”. A quiet and introspective piece with a lot of organ as it tells the terrible tale of artists – a dancer, a writer – who are losing their ability to create:

“Some are born to move the world

To live their fantasies

But most of us just dream about

The things we’d like to be.

“Sadder still to watch it die

Than never to have known it

For you – the blind who once could see –

The bell tolls for thee…”

When I was a kid I skipped by this song without a care. As a man in his forties it speaks a lot more deeply. It is a brave song to write as well, because there is no way Peart could have done it without digging deep into his own personal demons.

For surprising me more than thirty years after I first heard it, I moved this album up several notches from where I thought it would be. It felt good to be wrong.

Best tracks:   Subdivisions, The Analog Kid, New World Man, Losing It

CD Odyssey Disc 669: The Wooden Sky

My apologies for the delay in getting this next review done – it was a new album so I wanted to be sure I gave it a lot of consecutive listens before I said anything about it. I also went to see the band live on Monday, so after I review the studio album, I’ll review their show as well. A Creative Maelstrom: Your One-Stop Music Review Shop!

Disc 669 is…. Let’s Be Ready

Artist: The Wooden Sky

Year of Release: 2014

What’s up with the Cover? Based on the street sign (Dundas Street W), this looks like somewhere in Toronto. It is interesting what people think needs to be on their business sign to draw customers. These guys appear to be advertising “Tina”, “Coffee” and “Breakfast” are for sale, based on their big yellow sign. A smaller red sign below indicates you can get “Hot Food Sandwich Etc.” Good to know the sandwich is not only hot, but will also consist of food. As for the “etc.” I assume that’s Tina again.

Joking aside, this is just the sort of unassuming hole-in-the-wall that often makes great diner food. If I’m ever wandering down Dundas Street W I’ll keep an eye out for it.

How I Came To Know It:  When looking for new music ideas, I often pick the brain of servers or store clerks or pretty much anyone I run into that looks like they have something going on behind the eyes.

A few years ago, I was getting breakfast at my own local diner, Floyd’s. Our server suggested The Cave Singers and The Wooden Sky. She even wrote them both down, but I put the note in my wallet and promptly forgot it was in there. I didn’t find it until a little over a year ago when I was changing wallets and found the scrap of paper.

I checked both bands out. The Cave Singers didn’t grab me, but I had an instant connection with the Wooden Sky. I went out and bought one of their albums, and not long after I bought another two. When “Let’s Be Ready” came out I was already a wholesale convert, and bought it immediately..

How It Stacks Up:  I have four Wooden Sky albums, which I believe is all of their main studio albums. I like them all. “Let’s Be Ready” is probably tied for third.

Rating:  4 stars

The Wooden Sky’s fourth album has the band showing a slightly more rock edge to their sound, without losing sight of the starkly honest lyrics and clever melodies that made them so good to begin with. Four albums in, this band hasn’t made a bad step yet.

The Wooden Sky is a Canadian band through and through and their home-country influences shine through strong. They are like a latter day Blue Rodeo, and it is hard to hear them and not imagine them growing up listening to Jim Cuddy, Greg Keelor and the boys. Five years and four albums in, it isn’t overstating it to say the Wooden Sky has shown they are worthy inheritors – equals even – of the seminal bands like Blue Rodeo that came before them.

The uniquely compelling vocals of lead singer Gavin Gardiner are a big part of the band’s sound. Gardiner has a subtly surprising range, and an ability to put the hurt into every note. He sings like he means it, and he has a fresh phrasing to his vocals that shouldn’t work but does. On “Let’s Be Ready” there are places where he strays slightly into overly affected territory, but he always pulls it back before it becomes a problem.

When the album is jumping it has a good energy, and the opening track “Saturday Night” gets things rolling with a bang. It is a party song wrapped around what it’s like to feel estranged from the party experience. This musical device of taking a frenetic upbeat song and undercutting it with disconnected lyrics is standard business in modern indie pop, but I’ll give the Wooden Sky kudos for doing it well.

The album has a good atmospheric quality on up-tempo tracks like “Maybe It’s No Secret” and “When the Day is Fresh and the Light is New” (which needs a shorter title) and these are good songs, but not my favourites.

Call me maudlin, but I’m happiest when the Wooden Sky drag me down a bit and let me wallow. “Kansas City” and the title track “Let’s Be Ready” are two of the best mournful parting songs I’ve heard. “Kansas City” is from the perspective of the person leaving, knowing at some level he’s a fool for doing so. When the music swells and Gardiner sings:

“The road rose up to meet us, a tangled mess of yellow lines.

Though I should’ve seen it coming I just couldn’t stop in time.

I had to move, sometimes I wonder what I’m gonna do.”

You feel the wanderlust of someone losing one dream in search of another.

“Let’s Be Ready” is the opposite side of the same experience; knowing your lover has to go, and having to let them go, wondering why you are ending up second to their dreams. Turnaround is fair play, and the Wooden Sky is hip to that vibe. This song, which is just voice and acoustic guitar really lets the melody shine. When Gardiner climbs up to the top of his register and sings “Lover take these arms and build us a boat” his voice captures the helpless surrender of the heart when another person’s happiness comes before yours. It may feel right, but it doesn’t feel good.

“Write Them Down” feels even less good, but it is my favourite song on the album, and I think Gardiner’s best vocal effort as well. It hits you like a confession, an empty plea for things to work out, when you know it won’t. On my first listen, it had me inexplicably thinking about my cat Inigo, who I lost not long ago. I’m pretty certain it isn’t about losing a pet, but with lines like “Leave a doorway to the past/and try to make a good thing last” it hit me in a tender spot that has a long way to go from healing over.

The final track on the album, “Don’t You Worry About a Thing” is destined to be a sing-a-long classic for years to come. Another song with an ironic title (o how these hipsters love their irony) it is a delicious irony. Life sucks, but there’s an acceptance.

One thing that doesn’t suck is this record. I gave it five listens in a row, and it got better on every listen. I can’t wait for their next one.

Best tracks:   Saturday Night, Baby Hold On, Kansas City, Write This Down, Let’s Be Ready, Don’t Worry About a Thing

The Concert – September 30, 2014 at Distrikt (sic) Nightclub, Victoria

I was nervous about this show. I had recently seen a similar band (Deep Dark Woods) at a similar club-style venue (Upstairs Lounge) and the sound had been dense as mud.

It turns out I had no reason for concern – The Wooden Sky were crystal clear and perfect throughout. They were a bit crowded on the small stage, and the view wasn’t great but it didn’t affect their playing at all, which was excellent.

My last concert was Steve Earle’s “Low Highway” tour and my friend Casey made a good observation that lead singer Gardiner has a bit of young Steve in him. He jumps to the mike with an energy driven by the song, and then retreats back under his hair, like he’s simultaneously driven to perform, and shy to show too much of himself.

Song selection was just right, with about half the concert being songs from the new album and the other half some of my favourites from their earlier albums. I have no idea what their ‘hits’ would be from long-attending fans so it was nice to find that a lot of the songs that I think are their standouts were the songs they played.

The band keeps the chit-chat down and lets the music speak for itself, but when they do interact there’s a genuine warmth and appreciation that all these folks have come out to see them play.

The venue was “Distrikt,” a bar that on the weekend has long been a bit of pick-up joint for the short-skirt/muscle shirt crowd. I won’t judge, since I went there a few times in my early twenties. Back then it was called “the Forge” and since then it has had a half-dozen other incarnations. It hasn’t changed much over the years, but the seat cushions seemed new and it was generally clean. They could have done with some servers, but the bartenders were affable when I finally got off my ass and sought them out.

The audience was very young (compared to me) and for the most part seemed to be there to genuinely see the band, which was nice. There was a bit of murmuring chatter during the encore I didn’t appreciate, but it was pretty muted compared to some bar concerts I’ve been to.

Whatever the case, the Wooden Sky had drawn me in from the first song and never lost me. The worst part was when they stopped playing. If they come again, I’d get a ticket in a heartbeat, and you should to.