Raine Maida — The Hunter’s Lullaby (Nettwerk)
Remember Raine Maida, lead singer and founding member of Our Lady Peace, a band that drilled a long line of mind-numbing altrock anthems into our brains from 1995 to present? The Hunter’s Lullaby finds Maida trying to re-invent himself musically, a totally predictable, boardroom-calculated move nowadays (hell, even Good Charlotte has done it). So where does Maida turn for some inspiring fresh air to fuel his new direction? Beat poetry, spoken word, and acoustic folk! Ouch. Here Maida tries to do two contradictory things at once: appear edgy, pensive, and genuinely re-born as a true artist, while still catering to the Bob Rock-addicted producers of car commercials and mobile phone ads, hoping for a sweet licensing deal. The result is a little less bearable than the worst of OLP. “Yellow Brick Road” finds Maida waxing poetic about 20/20 hindsight over acoustic guitars (Note: Everlast wasn’t even cool in 1997, what makes you think this going to work now?), trying to rhyme the ridiculous line: “This underground was for sinners and we embraced it, Magic pills, fairy tails, Sid Barrett’s ghost, Yeah, we all got on that spaceship.” Come on, that’s total shit! Equally insipid is the disc’s opener, “Careful What You Wish For,” where Maida sing/ speaks “It’s a Leonard Cohen song, A Buddha or a Monk, You can be anything you want, I’m an Italian Catholic punk.” WTF? While the effort is certainly there, it’s impossible to take Maida’s work seriously. He’s like the Canadian Jared Leto (minus the decent acting career). Oh, and here’s the really bad news, Our Lady Peace hasn’t broken up and are recording a new record. However, The Hunter’s Lullaby isn’t a total waste, it functions quite well as meta comedy, or as an instrument of torture. —JB
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Small Sins — Mood Swings (Boompa/Astralwerks)
Firearm references run throughout Mood Swings, the second offering by Small Sins, suggesting that bad moods might just be deadly. This local band is the vision of Thomas D’Arcy, who weaves dreamy synth-pop soundscapes through a folk rock foundation, while playing nearly every instrument himself. The album’s title is an apt description, as D’Arcy rotates between playful and serious tunes, making each song seem like a mood swing in and of itself. The slow, sombre jams too often descend into a drowsy monotony, and Small Sins are at their best when D’Arcy lets the keyboards sparkle. The spectacular “It Keeps Me On My Toes” finds him hitting epic melodic heights, while a stomping drum line and traditional organ and banjo combination comprise the standout “Morning Face.” These and other highlights make Mood Swings a solid effort, far more than just a shot in the dark, even if only the fast songs stop you dead.—RD
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The Vulcan Dub Squad — The New Designers (Five deadly records)
Let me begin by making clear that The Vulcan Dub Squad appear to have very little to do with dub music, or vulcans, for that matter. They are instead a throwback to the forward- looking 1960s, less Yellow Submarine and more That Thing You Do!, complete with pomade-slick hair and skinny-tied suits. For The New Designers, they took creative inspiration from Expo ’67, Montreal’s ill-fated and largely forgotten vision of what the world could be. The resulting album is a mixture of ’60s influences, like the Pink Floyd spacey vocal harmonies on “Victoria,” the dirty garage swagger of the Kinks on “¡Die Dief Die!” and the pastoral psychedelia of “Rial” and “It Could Be.” The album’s flaw is that it fails to capture the melodic emphasis of rock’s greatest era, before distortion really got in the way. Take a quick look at Wikipedia’s list of Billboard Number One singles of the 1960s. Those huge choruses are the only missing ingredient.—RD
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