Hawksley Workman—Meat
Ryan Corrigan, better known as the multi-instrumentalist, producer, and independent record label owner Hawksley Workman, attempts to add Meat to his repertoire of critically-acclaimed, fearlessly genre-bending efforts that cemented his legacy as a Canadian indie darling. One of two albums set to be released by Workman this year, there’s no doubt that the 34-year-old is endlessly attempting to one-up himself, and as such he has some big musical shoes to fill. Meat is the latest brainchild of a brooding, sexually-kinetic performer with a tireless affinity for progression and serious creative chops.
On Meat, Workman manages to stay true to this legacy on thoughtful tracks such as “Song for Sarah Jane,” a sweeping ballad in memory of the one that got away, and “Baby Mosquito,” a measured ode that would seem to reveal the enigma of a doomed relationship in a decidedly northern Ontario fashion. “You Don’t Just Wanna Break Me (You Wanna Tear Me Apart)” is a desperate, indignant, confrontational plea that works well with Workman’s intermittently sensual growling and imperfect shrieking, and is unexpectedly enhanced by the untidiness of the production.
Unfortunately yet observably, Meat sorely lacks the raw passion and grittiness of Workman’s earlier efforts. Mediocre and underwhelming, its shortcomings are never more apparent than on tracks like “French Girl in L.A.,” where Workman noisily and aimlessly shouts about an obscure and alienating subject. Tracks like “The Ground We Stand On,” however conceptually strong, are lyrically shallow; boasting empty phrases like “it’s so cold here and I miss you / and I can’t help feeling broken.” I mean, what is this, a Coldplay song?
While previous album Between the Beautifuls was praised for its depth and articulation and Los Manilicious’ manic and atmospheric sensuality won the hearts of critics nationwide, Meat is forgettable and unbefitting of Workman’s lofty reputation. He has often been cited as having a knack for every conceivable genre, from country to pop to indie ballads to danceable hip-hop beats, and his fearlessness in taking on different kinds of music is definitely commendable. But I can’t help but wish this talented singer-songwriter would stick to what he’s best at: a quiet room, a guitar, and that irrefutable vocal panache that made him Canada’s indie golden boy.—Elizabeth Haq
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The Junction—Another Link in the Chain
More than most albums I’ve heard, Another Link in the Chain takes some getting used to. The newest album from The Junction, a follow up to their 2007 self-titled disc, can sound frustrating at first, but it really grows on the listener. In order to appreciate the solid lyrics and instrumentation at the core of this album, one must survive the generic indie-pop-rock sound of the first couple tracks that tend to not develop with further listening—unlike some of the other ones sprinkled across the album. Just like walnuts in banana bread (and I hate walnuts in banana bread), you take it all in because in the end it’s worth it.
Changing tempos and great track transitions towards the middle and latter-half of the album—particularly on the ballad-like “Miles in Denial” and the fun, lyrically-solid “Out of Here”—show the strength of the downsized trio of excellent musicians. Clearly these guys love music—you can hear their uplifting enthusiasm just by listening to how they approach their instruments. Whether it’s the up-tempo guitar, the fast drums (which easily could be slowed down a bit), the great bass riffs, or the horns section that adds nice layers to the music, The Junction has a more mature, original sound in a genre that is typically engulfed by generic rockers. Although they sometimes fall the trap of dullness, they make a conscious effort to push across their originality.
Maybe originality is what drove their decision to put out a disc that starts out snooze-worthy and ends with terrific songs. The Junction proves you shouldn’t judge the book by opening lines—Josh Staav
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