ear candy:
THE REST OF '09 BATCH
- TIMBER TIMBRE
- JACQUES DUTRONC
- THE DUSTIN BENTALL OUTFIT
- 40 WATT MONKEY
- THE NOVAKS
- HELADO NEGRO
- THE DISCIPLINES
- CAROLYN MARK AND N.Q. ARBUCKLE
- THE SECRETARIES
- LITTLE GIRLS
- INWARD EYE
- RECORD OF THE WEEK CLUB
- 24-CARAT BLACK
- ANJULIE
- DAN MANGAN
- ANDREW VINCENT
- JIM BRYSON
- IRON AND WINE
- 101 STRINGS
TIMBER TIMBRE
TIMBER TIMBRE (Ind)
The Polaris judges got it all wrong this year. They overlooked the greatest Canadian album of the
year. At least Timber Timbre is in good company (Rae Spoon anyone?). So it’s up to you, faithful
reader to right that wrong. Go forth and procure this haunting collection of fragile folk odes
this very minute. Taylor Kirk by another name, is a plotting plodder, creating chilling sonnets
of the sneaky variety. Pump organs are caressed. Banjos are plucked. Boxes are thumped. Kirk
warbles along to his meandering melodies, and by Jehovah it is good. When something this
startling and unique comes along, you best do everything in your power to seek it out. One
warning though: it will take over your life.
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JACQUES DUTRONC
ET MOI ET MOI ET MOI 1966 – 1969 (RPM)
Anyone dying to slip into that PVC mini skirt and go-go boot outfit gets their chance right here,
right now. Jacques Dutronc is no faux retro swinger, he’s the real deal. Back when flower power
was taking hold, this cheeky monkey (along with Françoise Hardy – whom he would wed) was the voice
of gay Paris. Sure the hipsters had Serge Gainsbourg, but the kids just wanted to jump around in
wild abandon and colourful clothing. Dutronc provided their soundtrack, with a fresh mix of
garagey yé-yé numbers, silly amour ballads, and some freaky psychedelia. Best of all, he looked
absolutely smashing, and that my friends, was half the lure. Yeah baby!
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THE DUSTIN BENTALL OUTFIT
SIX SHOOTER (Universal)
Is it “she’s my heroine”, or “she’s my heroin”? Maybe it’s both. Any suckers for a blunt double
entendre, country twang style will no doubt enjoy Dustin (Son of Barney) Bentall’s sophomore
platter. With Luke Doucet and Del Cowsill (!!!) along for the ride, Dusty has a crack band at
his disposal, and thankfully, he brings worthy tunes to the table. It may be all cowboy cliché,
but songs about bank heists, trains, deserts and guns never get old. Six Shooter just may be the
right tonic for that certain ailment you never even knew was in need of remedy. Stand aside
Barney.
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40 WATT MONKEY
THE OSHAWA TREE (Ind)
Get it? I knew you would. Who doesn’t like a little Bono dig, Canada style now and then? Here’s
the deal: recycling is in, and music is no exception. 40 Watt Monkey recycles Ottawa musicians
(ex – Jimmy George, Whirleygigs, Gonks Go Beat) and mid-eighties thinking dude’s guitar rock
(R.E.M., The Replacements). Jangly riffs abound in this verse-chorus-verse template for sure
fire college radio staples, that blends perfectly with your dusty vinyl collection to boot.
Takes a couple of listens but once the cobwebs are shaken you will be stirred.
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THE NOVAKS
THINGS FALL APART (Sonic)
Ladies and gentlemen: the new Tom Petty album! Ok that’s not fair, but hell that “Destroyer”
track sure is a dead ringer (what Tom’s still alive? … uh, sorry). As rootsy Americana rock goes,
you could do a lot worse than The Novaks. The songs are catchy, the pace is blistering, and
there’s that familiar aspect going on.
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HELADO NEGRO
AWE-OWE (Asthmatic Kitty)
Black ice cream. Yum? Precisely old chap. Robert Carlos Lange, a Miami native of Ecuadorian
lineage, is a complex gent. A bit of a secretive music terrorist if you will: dropping sound
bombs with the likes of Savath & Savalas, and Prefuse 73 (just nod and pretend yer keeping up)
before moving on to his latest mysterious identity. No matter, the ear canal massages we’ve come
to expect are ever present,
as Messieur Negro fuses playful rhythms, trancy percussion, and intimate vocals in a joyful
desert isle loop perfect for a lazy samba party. Rinse, lather and repeat.
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THE DISCIPLINES
SMOKING KILLS (Second Motion)
Wearing the Arctic Monkeys on their sleeves (choppy guitar bits and spat vocals of the clever
variety), The Disciplines have translated their hurry up rock stance into Norweigian delirium.
But will the Scandanavian Beatles conquer North American masses? Odds are poor, but the story’s
a good one. You see it’s ex-Posies Ken Stringfellow up front doing his best Iggy impersonation,
and damn if he doesn’t sound/look great. Is this the same guy who partook in the recently revamped
Big Star, and chummed around with Peter Buck in the Minus 5, not to mention that REM band? Why
yes, yes it is.
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CAROLYN MARK AND N.Q. ARBUCKLE
LET’S JUST STAY HERE (Mint)
We all knew Carolyn had it her, and here it is: the perfect Canuck country he/she duo album for
the post Tyson generation. Honing her considerable collaboration skills for many albums, Mark’s
creamy smooth delivery finds a fetching match in the black coffee stylings of N.Q. Arbuckle.
Enticing individually, they elevate this record to goose pimple status when harmonizing. They
used to call albums like this timeless, so I’ll do the same.
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THE SECRETARIES
THE SECRETARIES (Ind.)
If one can pull off a Joni Mitchell vocal, should one? Personally speaking, Joni has released
enough material to more than satiate the elderly bohemian crowd, and the opening track by The
Secretaries had me cringing. Persistence will be rewarded though, as moods and stylings quickly
change for the better. Augmented by the horns of plenty of The Brasstones, The Secretaries romp
through some primo chugga-chugga bar rock, replete with ballsy growls and even some cussing. Now
that’s more like it.
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LITTLE GIRLS
CONCEPTS (Paper Bag)
Inspite of the very heavy shadow Joy Division cast upon the ready-to-get-bleak post punk
generation, there really was some intrinsic joy in their music. It has stood the test of time,
and until now, has remained quite sacred. "Don’t go there fella, for it is holy ground, and you
will be vilified". Well, Josh McIntyre has gone there, and he will be vilified, but in the proper
circles, he may be celebrated. With jagged guitar screeches, plodding but toe-tapping beat,
upfront bass leads, and ominous, agony vocals, he’s got Ian Curtis’ gang down to a tee. Black
and white introspective dirges splashed with a rainbow of grey shades, cleverly obscure a fetching
pop underbelly. It’s very good really, and if nothing else, will lead the latest trenchcoat mob
back to the source, where they should have been all along.
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INWARD EYE
THROWING BRICKS INSTEAD OF KISSES (RCA)
Apparently these guys have opened for The Who. Which goes to prove that anything is possible. No
really, just who out there is running this hype machine? Is the public so starved for jumpy kids
with guitars that they are proclaimed the next Clash on the strength of a couple of forgettable
stabs at anthem rock? Does anyone else detest choruses that go, "na-na-na-na-na-na"? Just how low
have The Who sunk? When will I run out of questions? .......um, now.
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VARIOUS
RECORD OF THE WEEK CLUB
(Head In The Sand)
Gathering musicians from disparate backgrounds to produce new material has always been a dicey
proposition, but the further constraint of writing and recording a piece available for download
that same evening seems outlandish. For sixteen weeks Winnipeger Mike Petkau brought together
throat singers, classical orchestralites, indie rockers and jazz fiends, to copulate, music mash
up style. Collected for convenience, “The Record of the Week Club” contains hits and misses,
sparks and stalls, exciting explorations and forced collaborations, that work as a perfect slice
of Manitoban music pie, proving great music can be made on the spot, under duress.
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24-CARAT BLACK
GONE: THE PROMISE OF YESTERDAY (The Numero Group)
Dale Warren’s dark seventies soul debut just wasn’t meant for the times, disappearing from the
shelves, but resurrected two decades later by UK’s fascination with American groove. Recently a
damp Chicago basement search unveiled the tapes of 24-Carat Black’s follow up, only six tracks of
which are salvageable. But what a six pack. Full of brooding sax and crying vocals, “Gone: The
Promise of Yesterday” is a haunting, street soul record without a big beat. It’s a simple,
emotive tour de force, riding on luscious female vocals, Robert Dunson’s desperate narrative
pleads, and a sparse backbeat groove, that sounds remarkably fresh.
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ANJULIE
ANJULIE (Hear Music)
Apparently Anjulie is top notch. Who am I to quibble? In a day and age where super slick popstars
who deliver sweet synth soul vocals over trendy dance beats are top notch, Anjulie (yes that’s
one name) is perhaps the top notchiest. She’s young, looks like a runway model, sings on key,
and writes some spicy love lyrics. Or maybe that’s her writing partner Jon Levine, whom she gives
props to with “thank u for planting me watering me and taking a poop on me”. Top notch!
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DAN MANGAN
NICE, NICE, VERY NICE (FU:M)
There’s a rasp in Dan Mangan’s voice. It surfaces when he reaches for certain notes. And though
music teachers world over would be getting the cane ready, folks who like their music fresh, off
the cuff sounding, will dig it. Who needs gloss when you have heart? Mangan’s quest is a hard one:
to slip in alongside the many singer songwriters mining Canadian soil, and leave something of
distinction for us to ponder. And by crikey, methinks he’s done it. The endearing vocal, stripped
down guitar plucking, some horns when a song needs to swell; it all comes together in a dozen
memorable tunes that sound as good as they appear on paper. Plus there’s a robot song. Hoorah!
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ANDREW VINCENT
ROTTEN PEAR (Kelp)
Another fine record as scruffy as Vincent’s face, "Rotten Pear" works on many levels, and misses
on a couple. Sometimes the rhyming lyric pattern seems at odds with the melody, as if two songs
are fighting it out. It’s a tough feat: to blend streams of narrative to music, and when it
clicks, there’s nothing finer. Kudos to Vincent for including this bit of experimental edge on
his new record, cuz it sure would have been easy to fill it instead with a bunch of rollicking
numbers like "Nobody Else". Closing the album with Kate Bush’s "Hounds Of Love" suddenly makes
perfect sense. It’s nice to be along for the evolution ride.
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JIM BRYSON
LIVE AT THE FIRST BAPTIST CHURCH (Kelp)
Sideman to the stars, Jim Bryson continues to eke out a rather formidable solo discography with
the requisite live album. A greatest hits package? You betcha, with the added enticement of in
between song quips, sneaky tweaking of past favourites, and a vivacious live recording, in a
house of worship no less. A thank you present to die hard followers, a great introduction to
the Jim Bryson experience for newbies, and most importantly, one of the sweetest sounding records
of the year.
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IRON AND WINE
AROUND THE WELL (Sub Pop)
Often the earliest attempts at recording are never topped. That may well be the case here, as
this expansive two disc collection of early demos, some covers, and out of print tunes, may be
the best thing Iron And Wine have released. This is the document of Sam Beam finding his voice,
finding his intricate song structure, and finding a balance of strength and fragility that are
his forte. Intimate, hushed vocals and weeping strings bring his startling stories to life. Not
just a collection dipping into past arsenal, there’s a whole, long lost album in here. Even when
tackling other material, like the surprising "Waitin’ For A Superman" (Flaming Lips), Beam
totally takes over the song and makes it uniquely his own. But then, you already knew that.
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101 STRINGS
ASTRO-SOUNDS FROM BEYOND THE YEAR 2000 (Righteous)
Beyond 2000? How futuristic! That’s right retro swingers, back in ’69 the combination of moody
moogs, fuzzy sitars and bombastic string orchestras really did seem like the spacey future. And
frankly my dear, it still evokes that swanky Barbarella vibe to this day. How can ya go wrong
with a groovy mix of porn soundtracks, Jerry Cole’s lascivious surfy guitar, and all those
heavenly strings? You can’t. Botched up psychedelia tweaked for the martini lounge set never
sounded so jazzy. Start with the audacious romp of "A Disappointed Love With A Desensitized
Robot", follow with the astoundingly trippy "Karma Sitar", and climax with the sensuous groans
of Bebe Bardon, "Instant Nirvana". Pardon me while I light up.
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