Bee Hives – Broken Social Scene (Arts&Crafts)
Leave it to Toronto’s beloved indie-rock collective to confound all expectations, following their smash You Forgot It In People album with a small EP of quiet, dreamy b-sides and outtakes. Culled from early embryonic recordings (from their pre-supergroup era when BSS was little more than Kevin Drew and Brendan Canning futzing around in their basement), tracks laid down more recently during rare downtime, and live radio session material, Bee Hives is the id to YFIIP’s ego.
It’s always been somewhat surprising that this unwieldy band with such a fiercely idiosyncratic sound has become so darn popular, and the sprawling soundscapes presented here just serve to underscore that. But while the overall wistful sound of this album contrasts starkly with the cerebral pop of YFIIP, the two are still companion pieces, with this collection acting as a stepping-stone to the next full-length. The best bits of YFIIP are recycled into something completely new and equally marvellous (“Da Da Dada” lifts the glorious hook of rocker “Almost Crimes” to good effect).
The transcendant moments on the disc come when the BSS boys’ club lets the girls in to play-Metric’s Emily Haines drives an eerie refrain into your skull with her sweet, sweet voice on “Backyards”, and star-in-the-making Leslie Feist (just wait until her album drops in May)’s stark piano-and-vox take on “Lover’s Spit” is enough to give you goosebumps.
History – controller.controller (PaperBag)
Finally, a buzz band we can all rally behind-hardcore kids, shake hands with the indie-rock scenesters, and then all of you get down and dance. That’s right, finally the local masses have a reason to believe the hype-local ‘death disco’ quintet controller.controller went from playing underground loft parties to signing with cool indie label Paper Bag within a matter of months, rising on swift word of mouth and enthusiastic press for their black-clad, red-lit performances.
That could have all been for naught had their debut CD not lived up to the momentum, but instead, controller stepped up their game for History, polishing their sound to a fine dark sheen. Where vocalist Nirmala Basnayake was once hidden in the shadows muttering asides, she emerges here as a force to be reckoned with, her stylish, detached vocals brooking no nonsense as the band builds up a noisy post-punk groove behind her.
While there’s clear retro reference points like PiL and Gang of Four to be found in their heavy-but-melodic template, unlike many of their hipster peers, controller sound incredibly fresh and new and now. They’re not even afraid to wear their affiliations on their sleeves-“Disco Blackout” (with its killer “You wanna hear about parallels? How ’bout the 49th?” opening salvo) is about last summer’s lights-out in T.O. Seriously sexy stuff, and insanely addictive to boot-like the pop equivalent of crack cocaine.
All of Our Names – Sarah Harmer (Universal/Zoe)
‘Fess up, you’re in love with Sarah Harmer. First she was the kick-ass frontwoman for scrappy Kingston rockers Weeping Tile, then the record of old standards she made for her dad (Songs for Clem) proved so irresistible that it became her first solo release, and finally her proper debut, You Were Here-an infectious bridge between the Tile’s pop instincts and the sweet folk and bluegrass of the Clem covers-sealed the deal.
In short, we’ve had Harmer’s unmistakable voice somewhere at the back of our heads for nearly a decade now, and the infatuation will doubtless continue with this wonderful new disc, an understated collection of songs that are as tuneful as they are clever.
There’s a serene, warm beauty to the entire album, which Harmer recorded at her country home outside of Kingston with co-producer Marty Kinack. These new songs have that elusive magical quality of being almost instantly familiar the very first time you hear them. “Pendulums” kicks things off with a hint of what to expect-richly textured harmonies over an uncluttered acoustic arrangement.
Lyrically, Harmer’s a little older, a little wiser, and best of all, still unabashedly Canadian, with knowing lines like “I came down the dark road, both arms under my coat/And my breath is nearly freezing my eyes closed” (“Greeting Card Aisle”). If You Were Here heralded a strong solo career for Harmer, All of Our Names confirms her as one of the most vital songwriters of our time.
Feels Like Home – Norah Jones (Blue Note/EMI)
How to explain the seemingly unstoppable juggernaut that is Norah Jones? It’s simple-literally. You can’t go wrong with simple, honest music played and sung beautifully. Jones’ new disc won’t come as a surprise to anyone who already knows her languid coffeehouse sound, though Feels Like Home expands on the jazz/folk hybrid of her debut and pushes it into more countrified territory (befitting Jones’ Texas roots), with guests like The Band and the queen of country herself, Dolly Parton, moving things into somewhat more upbeat territory (relatively speaking).
Jones drops her studied cool on the breezy duet with Parton (“Creeping In”), sounding like she’s genuinely having a blast. Burying the dead horse that is the incessant “is-it-or-isn’t-it-jazz” debate, Feels Like Home is an assured, charming follow-up that sees Jones (who co-writes much of the material this time around, including a nervy move to pen lyrics to Duke Ellington’s “Melancholia”) growing into her own sound.
Get Away From Me – Nellie McKay (Columbia)
Okay, let’s get this straight-19-year old chick from New York who sings jazzy songs, raps every now and then, sometimes makes up entire songs in languages she doesn’t even speak. Oh, and she was kicked out of music school along the way. Gee, I wonder why?
Perhaps we have entered an alternate universe where anyone that bucks the plasticized, over-marketed norm by doing something out of the ordinary is to be summarily lauded, but forgive me if the recent salivation over the very blond, very perky Ms. McKay by the critical establishment smacks oddly of the same sort of false hype that drives the rest of the industry.
First things first-yes, the girl is capable of writing some insanely clever lyrics (“Well now I don’t mean to offend, much/just comprehend/when you’re female and you’re fenced in and/phen-phened to no end and no zen guide to men will help you fend off the/brethren”), but a double-disc(!) of this endless stream-of-consciousness is rather self-indulgent, not to mention that it wears thin rather quickly. The less said about the ‘rapping’ the better (to quote News editor Ryan Kennedy: “It’s like listening to someone’s older sister trying to rap. Painful.”).
Eclecticism and all-around kookiness has its place in pop music-but it’s just difficult to fathom why no less a figure than Geoff Emerick (the Beatles’ longtime engineer) would be bamboozled into producing this strange beast. So far McKay’s just an interesting hipster curio-be interesting to see if the public is as gullible as the critics and the scenesters.
Everything Changed – Abra Moore (Koch)
Some might recall underrated Austin singer-songwriter Abra Moore from back in the Lilith Fair era with her charming Grammy-nominated radio hit “Four Leaf Clover”. In the ensuing six years, everything changed (as the title puts it).
After pressure to become yet another Michelle Branch or Vanessa Carlton (artists who, let’s be clear, were influenced by the likes of Moore in the first place), she left her label to make her album the way she wanted to. Add to that the death of her father, and you’d think this long-in-the-making album would be quite dark and downbeat.
Though a more mature and serene effort than her previous album, Moore hones her melodic folk-pop sound with interesting and unexpected instrumental touches used not as mere decoration, but as an integral part of the songs. Trumpet and French horn elevate lead track “I Do” from being just another pretty, plaintive pop tune, and sweeping strings blend beautifully with banjo on “If You Want Me To.” Moore’s lyrics are still diary-entry vague, and her girlish yelp of a voice remains an acquired taste, but she uses it to good effect in her sweet-yet-strong songs.
College Dropout – Kanye West (Roc-A-Fella)
Must be frustrating being a superstar producer-you make other artists sound good, they score a hit song, blow up big, and meanwhile, you may be rich, but are still left in the shadows. Kanye West could have stayed out of the spotlight-well-known as the producer of choice for the likes of everyone from Jay-Z (“The Bounce”) to Alicia Keys (“You Don’t Know My Name”)-but after years of background credits and guest spots, the triple-threat rapper/writer/producer saved the best for himself. Smart guy.
Current chart-riser “All Falls Down” is built around a snippet of a track from Lauryn Hill’s infamous MTV Unplugged meltdown record-anyone else would have thanked West for possibly singlehandedly resurrecting their career, but Hill refused to clear the sample, so soul singer Syleena Johnson stepped in to croon the catchy hook.
Much has been made of West’s seeming duality-he declares “I’m the first rapper with a backpack and a Benz”, and raps as easily about guns as he does God, but this catch-all lyrical approach seems to be more a canny nod to commercial realities rather than a philosophical stance.
That’s not to suggest that West has little to say-in fact, from the between-song skits (usually anathema filler on hip-hop CDs, but relatively amusing and relevant here) to skillful wordplay like “I gotta apologize to Mos and Kweli/Is it cool to rap about gold if I told the world I copped it from Ghana and Mali?” (“Breathe in Breathe Out”), West largely delivers the goods. Yeah, the guest appearances are stacked knee-high, but at least they’re all solid, and none of the big names (Jay-Z, Common, Mos Def, Twista) ever quite overshadow the main man. Not bad for a self-professed dropout.
