Category: Reviews

This shard of the star of Black Moth Super Rainbow doesn’t take on the sound of synths ’n’ beats or distorto noise. Seven Fields of Aphelion (née Maureen Boyle) is the synth/piano player of the group and on her first solo record she delivers a pretty collection of reverb-hazed grand piano interweaved with squishy space-synths. The piano parts in many of the songs find a pretty phrase, focus on it and repeat, the delayed sound coming back and filling in the gaps between key hits. Some could say it sounds too similar, or needs more variation, but it adds to the dream-like atmosphere. Kinda like taking too much Nyquil and being blown away by everything while walking through your house. The best part is that, much like a Black Moth album, Periphery will find some weird memory in your brain and tie it to a song. Really. “Wildflower Wood” sounds like the kind of melodramatic music you’d hear on Sesame Street when one of the characters feels sad and their friends come by to tell them that everything’s gonna be OK. “Starlight Aquatic” sounds like a cut from a soundtrack to a futuristic serial you’d catch on ’80s-era BBC. “Cloud Forest (The Little Owl)” makes me think of when I watched Blade Runner all by myself in my basement with the lights out. The package is great too. Besides being a fine pianist, Boyle is a damn fine photographer. The disc comes with 14 dreamy, double-exposed photographs that you can swap out and use as an album cover. While that practice is hardly unique, those fuzzy pictures and these dreamy songs go together like horse and carriage. Highly recommended! (Graveface, www.graveface.com) Patrick Michalishyn

Ralph Alfonso has been a busy guy; running a label, and a publishing a zine, and contributing to other artists’ and writers’ projects. Enough to make some forget that Alfonso has a bit of a recording history of his own. This is the first Alfonso release since 2001’s This Is for the Night People, a collection of poetry and a pastiche of music that wouldn’t sound out of place on the CBC, committed to tape. In fact, all of Alfonso’s CDs have that late night radio comfort factor to them… but anyway, the EP. If you’re gonna do three songs in under 12 minutes, make sure they’re quality. And they are. “Billy Fury, Billy Fury” sounds like a Blues Explosion song, a totally welcome surprise (I was expecting a touch more jazzy business, given what’s come before). Ari Shine’s guitarwork is the star of the song. Congrats! Next, this acoustic version of “Yesterday & Today” is total punk-as-fuck,  unplugged power chords courtesy of Dave Rave (Teenage Head) with smoky snarled vocals. It’s bad-ass like you wouldn’t think an acoustic could be. And finally, the live version of “People that Love Forgot” rides the “Louie Louie” riff ’n’ vibe back into the garage, almost killing the original (save for the killer solo found on “Coffee, Jazz and Poetry”). Enough of the hors d’oeuvres; bring on the main course, Ralph! (Bongobeat, www.bongobeat.com) Patrick Michalishyn

My love of the Pointed Sticks started in summer of ’09 with me finding Zulu’s compilation Part of the Noise for $5 while in Vancouver. Tons of B.C. bands I love drop the Pointed Sticks name, the first three 7” releases are legendary and Perfect Youth is still a fantastic LP. And they’re playing out again! Fantastic! So I finally have the new Sticks album playing right now, and I’m sadly disappointed. The snottiness of youth, I guess it’s blown out and in the wastebasket. It’s been decades, so I’m not expecting that piss ’n’ vinegar to stick around, but boys… the music isn’t bad at all, but it’s too polished and the attitude is all gone. It’s a good POP guitar record, and if you’re expecting “Somebody’s Mom” or “Lies” or “The Real Thing,” you’re not gonna get it here. And while they might still kill live (hello Stooges!), this music on this platter doesn’t hold a candle to the past. And that sucks. (Northern Electric, www.northern-electric.ca) Patrick Michalishyn

Fact 1: everyone in Past Lives are former members of the Blood Brothers. Fact 2: they sound almost nothing like the Blood Brothers. They have hung up the boots of screamy jazz fusion for a more indie rock feel. The EP that preceded this album was a collection of fast catchy rock songs; this album is neither. All of the songs are hypnotically slow and in the place of “catchy” is “eerie.” A huge portion of this has to do with Jordan Blilie’s vocals. He takes his John Lennon mutter to the extreme creating a tone of voice that may never have been heard in the genre. On top of this the vocal melodies are just plain weird; the listener will always expect different notes to be hit at the end of phrases, effectively confusing them. The instrumentation also creates its own level of creepiness by having the bass structured and rhythmic while the guitar is playing blue notes that should irk everyone just a little bit. This is one of those albums that must be listened to a number of times until one knows what to expect; only then will one be able to decide whether or not it’s good. For fans of… well, certainly not the Blood Brothers. (Suicide Squeeze, www.suicidesqueeze.net) Paul Nordin

Finally, a new Chris Page record! I popped this one in the minute I ripped open my mail. Then I laid in bed, listened and smiled. Page has a voice that hides nothing. The emotions and feelings are real and right there. Speaking of standing out stark, this is also just a man and his guitar. Pure rock, through and through. Compared to his more rocking last release, Decide to Stay and Swim, Smoke Machine is a retreat to the cabin at the lake. It’s an introspective record, sometimes melancholy, and driving that home are song descriptions instead of lyrics (which are clear enough to warrant the lack of lyric sheet) that paint a picture of what the songs mean. But onto the songs. Leading off with “Patio to Stereo,” Page sets the stage with voice and masterful acoustic guitar. You can hear the buzzing of a fuzzy electric waiting to pop out from beneath the carpet, and when it does you’ll get goosebumps that’ll come back song after song. Reaching into his back catalogue, both Glen Nevous solo and from the Stand GT, Chris pulls out and puts the unplugged feel on some already powerful songs. “Good on the River” is a killer loud-LOUDER number and “Hello, Danger Bay” is the most drastic, putting the brakes on the anthemic heart-on-sleeve rocker and delivering it as a stripped-back on a front-porch at sunset lullaby. Kelp compilation track “Keep Me on Your Radar” is redone and even better than it was a year ago. Everything Page does, whether solo or with Stand or Camp Radio, is essential. What he can wring out of his chords, both vocal and guitar, is magic. Chris Page of our country’s hidden charms who’s been in plain sight for the better part of two decades. You’d be a fool to not take notice after a record like this. (Kelp Records, www.kelprecords.com) Patrick Michalishyn

MANRAYGUN
Everything Is Temporary
(Before you read this, apologies for all the “Manraygun sound like…” lines herein. They’re their own beast. Comparisons are inevitable.) I stumbled across Manraygun on MySpace, their name tricking me into thinking they were some kitschy sci-fi sampling, maybe-surfy band (à la Man… or Astro-man?). I was waaaaaay off. What I heard was a killer amalgam of more reminiscent of Murder by Death Americana, Sadies-ish instrumentals put to Randy Newman-esque lyrics. What a marriage. And the lyrics ain’t dumb either; the stories told are detailed and rich. What’s also really cool is that like another one of my favourite bands, the Vulcan Dub Squad, these guys can hop from style ’n’ sound to style ’n’ sound without tripping up or sounding forced. Everything/anything works! “Operazione Fritz” caught me off guard a little with its eight-bit beat that eventually was added to by the rest of the band. Not that I haven’t heard it before, but that coming after a few songs of dark saloon-rock, was a little unexpected. Good form, Manraygun! “Souvenir Dishes” is a Grinderman-like crunchy ’n’ greasy shitkicker. Manraygun run the gamut here on Everything Is Temporary. The slow songs will make you wanna raise a glass, the fast songs will make you wanna dance, and the mean songs will wanna make you fight. In case your interest isn’t piqued yet, this just came to me (try it on): Manraygun feel like putting Blue Rodeo and Eels in a blender and pouring the mix straight into your ear. Yeah, they’re that good. (Independent, myspace.com/manraygun) Patrick Michalishyn

The cover of this album shows half of the head of a rainbow-irised ventriloquist dummy that appears to be smoking. The initial off-put turned out to be a clever trick on Malakai’s part, because this album is simply excellent. It is pop music as I like it best—essentially catchy without sounding tired. The production is provided by Jeff Barrow of fellow Bristolians Portishead, and the album’s sound is at first very much akin to the latter’s music—beautiful and hypnotic and sounding like it was recorded in a glass studio. But the music is actually more reminiscent of an Odelay-era Beck stuck in with the copyright restrictions of 2010 (but still very British). In “Snowflake” (ever after known as “The Song What Will Not Leave My Head”) the chorus makes reference to a roundabout and the last half of the album sounds pretty straight-up Beatles. They even have a song called “Blackbird.” Despite the obvious musical references, the album stands as quite an original one. The songs never sound tired or overdone. They manage to remain hooky and catchy without becoming repetitive, a huge feat in pop music. The best thing I can say about this album is that I really want to finish this review snappily so I can get back to listening to it; as you should be. (Domino, www.dominorecordco.com) David Nowacki

Remember Polaroid photographs? Warm, intimate little snapshots that captured a moment in time and hinted at a bigger story just outside of the confines of their dimpled white frames. Peter Katz’s most recent collection of songs is kind of the aural equivalent of that: the singer-songwriter’s sincere, passionate vocals and acoustic guitar are front and centre on this lush effort, spinning heartfelt yarns both hopeful and achingly sad. This album was lovingly recorded in an old barn in Hamilton by a long-time friend of Katz, further adding to the impression that the singer is right there, relating these odes to love and loss directly to the listener. Katz handles the usual singer-songwriter fare with emotion without getting overly maudlin as some of his contemporaries are wont to do, and his tales of real tragedy are infused with subtlety rather than melodrama. Indeed, the songs dedicated to hate-crime victim Matthew Shepard and departed fiddler Oliver Schroer are standout tracks. Academy Award-winning  songwriter Glen Hansard (Once) and Canadian folksmiths the Good Lovelies and Melissa McClelland contribute pitch-perfect harmonies to several tracks. Don’t be the first of the last to know: this is a great record. (Curve Music, www.curvemusic.ca) Tiff Bartel

As the first track faded out, I was haunted by the lyrics: “All around the world, na na na na North America.” Where had I heard this before? A short trip to Google provided me with the answer: the mid-’90s radio hit “Around the World (La La La La La)” by ATC. These devilish Swedes had attempted to curry my favour by stirring up memories of unguiltily grooving out to ’90s dance music. Fiends! Charlatans! Abstract room painters! So, naturally, the first track is a winner in my books. The rest of the album, however, takes a turn down decidedly less emotionally stirring avenues. It’s not terribly offensive; I don’t know if there’s really enough character here to offend anyone. It’s nice to listen to, as it sounds very warm and everything is very reverb-y and it sort of sounds like you’re listening to Swedish (read: more cute and electronic) Coldplay in an echo chamber, with female vocals. Which is nice enough to listen to, but it starts to drag a little bit for want of a little variation in theme. By the time the panflute riff kicked in, I was beginning to get a touch sleepy. Probably an excellent album to lull you to sleep or play in your office if you’re a doctor who’s hip to what the kids are doing. They’re currently on tour with fellow two-letter band the xx. It’s as if there was an acronymic scale of bands, with aa being the worst and zz being the best, with the aforementioned bands in their proper places. Hopefully that’s obtuse enough for you. (Secretly Canadian, www.secretlycanadian.com) David Nowacki

Much has been made about Sumach Ecks’ voice leading up to the release of his debut disc A Sufi and a Killer. Following his guest performance on Flying Lotus’s Los Angeles in 2008, Ecks quickly made a name for himself with his voice that is as filthy as it is enchanting. In this regard, it’s a pleasant surprise that, with the debut disc for Ecks under the guise Gonjasufi, the singer has developed a sonic palette fitting for the uniqueness of his voice. A Sufi and a Killer is the perfect counterpart to any summer pop record, as Ecks quickly develops a blissed-out beachhouse aesthetic consistent with his fractured vocals, and carries it through to the final notes of the album. While there are a few bumps along the way, the record does well at maintaining a sense of cohesiveness. At no point does a song sound out of place. Considering the wide variety of styles brought into play throughout the disc (from the 1970s B-movie soundtrack feel of “Sheep” to the pounding blues of “Kowboyz&Indians,” recalling the best moments of Jon Spencer), it’s this consistency that proves to be the album’s greatest asset. With A Sufi and a Killer, Gonjasufi has proven to be worth the hype. (Warp, www.warp.net) Jeff Friesen