JIM SULLIVAN - U.F.O.

There is a lot of confusion over Jim Sullivan, the most banal being that he is not Big Jim Sullivan, the British session guitarist extraordinaire who played on around 1,000 hit singles (and also dabbled in some go-go sitar albums in the late '60s).  No, this is the American Jim Sullivan, who moved to L.A. with his wife in 1968, recorded his private-press debut LP U.F.O., and then, with his marriage on the verge of collapse in 1975, headed out to Nashville and simply disappeared. His abandoned VW was found on a desert road; his guitar, wallet, and other belongings were left behind in a hotel.

Like Connie Converse, another enigmatic songwriter who also disappeared without a trace after driving off in a Volkswagen (just a year before he did!), Sullivan remains one of those musicians who really deserved greater renown but simply got lost in the shuffle in the deluge of incredible music made during that goldmine time for rock. Stylistically, he shares similarities with Tim Hardin, especially vocally, and would typically accompany himself with only guitar whenever he played live. The difference, though (and this may be the power of suggestion at play here, considering his probable demise), is that there is an understatedly ominous vibe that colours this record with the sort of unease that accompanies ghost stories told in the dark.

On the U.F.O. sessions, his distinctively deep voice and guitar playing were augmented by Wrecking Crew players Jimmy Bond (bass), Earl Palmer (who drummed on Little Richard’s “Tutti Frutti” and The Righteous Brothers' “You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feelin’”), and Don Randi (who played keys for Phil Spector and on The Beach Boys’ “Good Vibrations”). It’s this combo of killer playing and Bond’s orchestrations that place this album in similar territory as such genre-defying works of psych-folk orch-funk as David Axelrod's Song Of Innocence and Songs Of Experience (on both of which Earl Palmer also drummed!), as well as Jean Claude Vannier’s arrangements for Serge Gainsbourg; folkies and beat-diggers alike therefore have much to sink their teeth into with this one.

Every year lost albums are unearthed, though few of them merit much airplay. This past year, impossibly obscure albums by Ted Lucas, Robert Lester Folsom, and Pastor T.L. Barrett were all saved from oblivion by intrepid reissue labels.  Sullivan's only effort is pretty near tops in that category, and deserves the scant but fervent attention it has received since resurfacing. In the meantime, the mystery of its author’s fate remains unsolved.

BOB DYLAN - The Bootleg Series Vol. 9 -The Witmark Demos: 1962-1964 / BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN - The Promise

Unreleased demos and shelved recordings aren't supposed to be essential. That's the reason they weren't released in the first place, right? Sure, a golden moment may lurk here and there—an orphaned chestnut of a track that simply made its parent recording too long or didn't match the pacing or theme of a proposed full-length. But we've seen enough lame-duck double-album collections of kitchen scraps and cutting-room floor casualties to know that, in the end, these are just thinly veiled cash grabs.  

Well, The Witmark Demos and The Promise—two such releases from Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen, respectively—aim to challenge that notion with collections of songs that offer more than just insight and education: they're also damn enjoyable to hear, regardless of the context of historical significance.

Both sets examine a formative time for each artist: Dylan being in the throes of finding his own voice beyond being a simple mimic of Guthrie and folk/blues songwriting; Springsteen working to further his also Guthrie-informed (but far more populist and anthemic) rock music with a more personal and direct eye. The full-lengths that came from these time periods—Dylan's first four LPs and The Boss' landmark Darkness At The Edge Of Town—speak volumes about the successful end results. As it turns out, the process itself wasn't so bad either.

Of the two releases, The Promise is the one that contains the more complete 'lost' album. With bonafide hits (and live staples) "Because The Night" and "Fire" leading the singles charge, a solid core of tracks such as "One Way Street", the Phil Spector swoon of "Someday (We'll Be Together)", "Gotta Get That Feeling" and "Ain't Good Enough For You" form the heart of what would've been a very good record. But what is immediately noticeable about these songs is how they differ from the overall timbre of Darkness. In this context, as good as they are, it's easy to see why Springsteen either gave them to other artists (Patti Smith, The Pointer Sisters), or left them behind completely.

The rest of The Promise consists of songs that would either have worked well on Darkness—closer "City Of Night", in particular—or would actually grow and evolve into some of the new album's tracks. What makes these latter songs really worthwhile though, is the fact that they're not just poorer recordings of the eventual final cut. They show genuine experimentation on the part of Bruce and The E Street Band. Here, "Racing In The Street '78" has a very different verse chord progression and prominent fiddle solos. In contrast, Darkness' version boasts a more sombre progression and leaner arrangement. "Candy's Boy" is a mellow jaunt of a prequel to the later album's firecracker, "Candy's Room". And what turns into Darkness' eloquent working man's tale, "Factory", is here seen as a plea for a night on the town, "Come On (Let's Go Out Tonight)". An attentive ear will even catch hints that look further into Springsteen's future—"Spanish Eyes" has a first couplet identical to "I'm On Fire" off of Born In The U.S.A. 

Even better, all of these songs sound full, rich, and completely realized—it is only the presence of Darkness that makes them in any way incomplete or transitory. (Even if The Boss did cheat a bit by polishing a few of these songs up just before this release, the result is still stunning.)

The Witmark Demos, as the title suggests, is not nearly as refined. It's rough, scratchy and loose. And at 47 songs, it is frankly easy to get a little lost in. But its pleasures, while different, are many. For starters, it's startling to hear Dylan on the edge of what would soon be. Throughout the many tracks, he pushes and pulls at the folk form like Play-Doh, searching for and imploring his own unique voice to emerge. Early tune "Hard Times In New York Town" is purely a reflection of what Seeger and Guthrie have molded for him. That the same young kid would also soon write "Blowin' In The Wind" and "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright" (both of which appear here) clearly shows how far Dylan came in a very short period.

This fact isn't really a shock, though. We all know the guy started out somewhere. But there's a far greater pleasure to be had here than that. Dylan as we have come to know him for the past five decades is a brilliant but cantankerous, willfully obscure artist—basically too smart for and distrusting of the rest of us to ever let us in too far. But the demo nature of these recordings allows us to see a part of the man long lost to time. This Bob Dylan chuckles, coughs, jokes and sings with a casual air that is almost unrecognizable as the same man. 

And really, I guess, that's because he isn't the same man. In the wake of these demos and the subsequent albums, Dylan changed—both from within and without—to become the 'Judas' of the very forms he'd come to perfect and champion. If you look closely, there are hints of that inevitable betrayal all over The Witmark Demos—hints that this style will only satisfy his mind for so long before he seeks to burn down the temple and rebuild it again and again in new forms. But for this moment, Dylan is still a student. Take a look while you can. The moment doesn't last. 

FREDERICK SQUIRE - March 12

For anyone who has followed the career of Fred Squire over the past decade, you'll know that he's involved in a lot of other people's musical projects, but he's never been one to promote his own solo material. So it's a bit of a shock that we've even got to the point where he has an album of his to sell you. We've got Blue Fog Records (Andre Ethier, Castlemusic) to thank for putting it out, but first, a round of applause goes to Fred himself for actually sitting down and making this beautiful record.

While there are quite a few readily available albums to feature his talents, including several albums and EPs from Shotgun & Jaybird (the group he co-fronted with Shotgun Jimmie from 2003-2007), as well as Julie Doiron's latest album I Can Wonder What You'll Do With Your Day, Mt. Eerie's Lost Wisdom, and last year's Daniel, Fred & Julie record, Fred has always kept his solo output to small runs of CD-Rs—sometimes as few as 50. In fact, this album started off much the same way, as a CD-R being sold on a Daniel, Fred & Julie tour earlier this year. Now that it has a wider release more people will get to hear the tremendous talents of this Ajax, Ontario native.

It's never made clear what the significance of the date March 12 is, though to hazard a guess it could be the day the album was recorded. It's not impossible to believe the whole thing was done in a day or two, but the quick fashion in which it was made would explain a lot. After spending many years on the road playing other people's songs, perhaps Fred felt it was time to let himself be heard. He certainly pours a lot of himself into the lyrics—on "Old Times Past New Times", he sings about "decisions that I've made". The song "The Future of Tradition" was written as a response to the traditional tune "Frankie & Albert" (covered on last year's Daniel, Fred and Julie album); the words are written as a back and forth exchange between Albert, singing from his grave, and Frankie, moments before her execution. Tying it all together is Fred's understated piano, guitar, and voice. There's no studio trickery to be found here—in fact, on the back of the record's sleeve he lists every piece of equipment he used to make the album. All in all, it's a refreshingly honest album, created entirely by one person at his home. Don't skip over it; it's one of the year's best.

S. CAREY - All We Grow

Let's get this out of the way—Sean Carey's choice of moniker comes off as one hell of a lame joke ("Boo!" Get it?). Shuffle around that groaner though, and you'll arrive at an album that is anything but dumb. But is it also too smart for its own good? After all, Carey (who got a leg in indie rock's door by landing a key role in Bon Iver's live band) is a trained percussionist with an ear for avant-classical heavyweights such as Glass, Riley and Reich. Adding these tendencies to the often self-important navel-gazing of indie-folk ain't always the best idea.

Fortunately, here he marries them superbly to a songwriting style that favours impressions and moods over verses and choruses. All We Grow seeps and bleeds like water from a split vase across a thick tablecloth. Its patterns are subtle and slightly random, and their borders are easily lost against the white-on-white of sighing vocals, folksy strumming, lightly shifting percussion and impressively nuanced orchestrations. As such, it works best when it is allowed to figure itself out—hands-off listening lets each of these tunes become something a little different every time you hear them. It's a beautiful little session.

Now, that said, one can't help but feel that with just a little more cohesion in the songwriting department (something his employer could really help foster), All We Grow could, well, grow into something more than just avant-garde. But as a debut, it signals a major talent that had previously been lurking in the shadows. Where he goes from here could be 'scarey' indeed.

BABY EAGLE - Dog Weather

Toronto has had one of its hottest and most eventful summers in years. If you're looking for a break from the heat and excitment, Dog Weather might be just what you're looking for. It's the type of record you'll want to put on every day for a month, like a nice new pair of boots, wearing it in until it gets comfortable.

Steve Lambke is Baby Eagle. That's his face is on the grainy cover of Dog Weather, his third album and first full-length for You've Changed Records, following 2006's self-titled debut and 2007's No Blues. Each Baby Eagle record has found Steve paired up with a different group of musicans (including John K. Samson, Christine Fellows, and Shotgun & Jaybird), giving each group of songs its own flavour. This time around he's employed the talents of Shotgun Jimmie (again), Daniel Romano, and David Trenaman and Colleen Collins from east-coast rock duo Construction & Destruction. The band does a good job of adding their own flourishes, but when all is said and done, it's all about Steve.

The albums starts off with "Day of our Departing," the longest track here and also the perfect preview of things to come. With a laidback folk-rock framework, the songs mostly act as a showcase for Steve's wordy narratives. Once based in Toronto (where he played in a little band you might have heard of called The Constantines) but now living in Sackville, NB, his new settings certainly seem to have informed his lyrics. Song titles such as "Fisherman or Fish," "River Bank Sitter," and "Thistle in Bloom" give you a good idea of what to expect. However, this isn't the case of another city slicker putting on a fake drawl and singing about subjects they know nothing about—everything on this album feels natural. There are songs about dogs and songs about the weather, and songs about a whole lot more. Small moments in our lives that pass us over but make up who we are. This record is a moment in time worth revisiting. Get it.

PETE MOLINARI - A Train Bound For Glory

Now, I'm not exactly sure if Pete Molinari is indeed bound for glory à la Woody Guthrie, but hopefully he'll get as close to it as possible. Yes, this British troubadour's that talented, as his new album abundantly proves. From the moment my ears caught the strains of his 2008 release A Virtual Landslide, it was apparent that Molinari was successfully putting his own twist on the '60s singer-songwriters (Dylan, Phil Ochs, Tim Hardin, for starters) who had deeply inspired him, all the while sticking close to his chosen template.

But if Molinari's a traditionalist, he's a damned good one, as A Train Bound For Glory makes for an excellent follow-up to his previous recordings. Recorded in Nashville instead of the U.K. this time out, he and his bassist and drummer are accompanied by a large assortment of country and folk-rock musicians, including Elvis' backup singers, The Jordanaires. The end result is an irresistable batch of ballads and up-tempo tunes which evoke the restless life of a lonesome drifter, without resorting to timeworn clichés. Quite the opposite; Molinari's melodies, soul-searching lyrics, and somewhat androgynous tenor voice all add up to a pretty timeless disc.

My personal fave cut here is "New York City", and fittingly enough, this album's as close to capturing and updating that vintage Greenwich Village countryfied-folkie vibe as anything you're likely to hear these days.

ALASDAIR ROBERTS & FRIENDS - Too Long In This Condition

It is too often that the scholarly side of folk music presents itself as a sort of merit badge on the sleeve of the performer; where there’s some superfluous "Guantanamera" talk-down spoonfeeding us some sort of proof of authenticity in place of communicating the intricacies of a tradition through the music itself. Alasdair Roberts sings as if returned from the grave, spinning mock gospels and timeless ballads with the gravity of one who has seen all ages. His own songs play out as if they’ve been floating around the North for a few hundred years, betraying a deep knowledge of all manner of British music passed, so it’s no surprise that an album of traditional tunes will carry the weight of their age.

There’s no question that this album serves as a proper record of these songs—descriptive notes and Child reference numbers accompany each title, along with Roberts’ distinctive Theorbo-flop guitar tunings. The songs themselves largely deal with darker matters, from the gore of Long Lankin to the tragedy of Barbara Allen. It's with great subtlety that Mr. Roberts expresses the depth of this music, and perhaps that’s why, rather than inviting us to “Sing Out!”, he suggests we “Stravaig With Gravitas!”.

SARAH HARMER - Oh Little Fire

Songbird Sarah has spent her solo career oscillating between exquisite adult pop and Canuck Appalachia. 2005's I'm A Mountain was a collection of the latter, so a more radio-ready vibe is in order for her first LP in five years, Oh Little Fire. If that sounds like a less-than-enthusiastic appraisal of the Harm's latest, allow me to clarify: a radio station whose airwaves were permanently adorned by her dulcet tones would be a lovely one. Indeed, it's a rookie mistake to see this lady's significant gifts as being anything like pedestrian simply because they have mass appeal. She doesn't pander. Instead, she presents herself unadorned and direct, allowing that voice to ring out like the aural Pavlovian bell it is.

Oh Little Fire bears the same casual clarity that made If You Were Here and All of Our Names such treats. This relaxed feel and the album's short running time does mean that the first listen breezes by. But the melancholic undertones of songs like "Captive" and "New Loneliness" really begin to smoulder after that, giving the record the deep touchstones it needs to fully take root. Late-album duet with Neko Case "Silverado" is a real highlight, with Harmer's timbre rubbing off on the often blustery-voiced Case. Here, the two are kicking back like friends tending to the dying embers of campfire singalong. It is a little fire, but it burns brightly nonetheless.

VA - You Baby: Words & Music by P.F. Sloan and Steve Barri

Of all the brilliantly gifted songwriters who created Top 40-bound confections for '60s hitmakers, Philip "Flip" Sloan remains the most enigmatic. Originally from New York City, Sloan moved to Los Angeles with his parents and by his late teens had already become a prolific tunesmith. Teaming up with the equally young and talented Steve Barri, Sloan came up with demos given to r'n'b and surf combos as well as female pop vocalists—compositions which would often get released by acts on the Dunhill label (home of The Mamas and the Papas and The Grass Roots).

This long-overdue comp features several of the hits penned by Sloan and Barri, along with many more obscure gems. It makes no difference if we're talking Beach Boys-like harmony surf-pop by Jan and Dean, jingle-jangling folk-rock by The Turtles and The Searchers, irresistably infectious Merseybeat-style melodicism by Herman's Hermits, or the most infamous doomsday protest song of 'em all by Barry McGuire, this dynamic duo excelled at crafting instantly and eternally memorable material. After having listened a couple of times to the twenty-five tracks here, the odds are good that you'll be eager to hear more.

The aforementioned enigma of P.F. Sloan basically involves his failure to establish himself as a singer-songwriter in his own right despite having proven himself so successful a hitmaker for others. After releasing two albums that flopped in the marketplace, his label, Dunhill, apparently forced him out of the music biz when he refused to curtail his attempts to forge a solo career and instead stick to churning out radio-friendlier tunes for hire. Sloan, for all intents and purposes, eventually disappeared, even if his knack for folk-rock introspection peppered with his unique pop smarts was compelling. It's quite a sad story, one that nevertheless finally ends on a redemptive note, with the 2008 reissue of Sloan's solo recordings, not to mention this new anthology of the hook-filled singles he co-wrote with Steve Barri.

SAM AMIDON - I See The Sign

We somehow forgot to feature this album on our website when it was released way back in April, which is strange since Sam Amidon's last album All Is Well made our year end list back in 2008, and I See The Sign is more than a worthy follow-up. Perhaps it was for the best, though, because on first listen, I See The Sign sounded a lot like All Is Well—not a problem, but also not exactly revelatory. After all, both albums follow similar paths, with Amidon taking the words and melodies from old public-domain folk songs, dusting them off and making them sound new again.

It's only after spending a few months with it that its unique characteristics have emerged. Where the beauty of his last album was its sense of privacy and sparse arrangements, this time around there is a lot more going on in each of the album's 11 tracks. Chalk this up to appearances from percussionist Shahzad Ismaily, avant-garde composer Nico Muhly, and songstress Beth Orton, whose backing vocals on "Relief" (actually a cover of an obscure R. Kelly song) help make it an album highlight. Both subtle and majestic, I See The Sign will satisfy his fans, while also providing a perfect point-of-entry for those just discovering this talented young musician. I see the sign, and it says "Buy this album!"

THE ACORN - No Ghost

A local paper's review of this album made a point of focusing on No Ghost's apparently "awkward-ninth-grade-poetry moments." As an assessment of this record, it's a rather pithy, bitchy critique, but it does clumsily highlight a shadow that hangs over these songs. After a predecessor that contained such a well-conceived and passionately realized narrative (Glory Hope Mountain's tribute to leader Rolf Klausener's immigrant mother), this group had a hell of a task outdoing themselves on the follow-up—especially with regards to the lyrics.

The band answers this challenge with a simple but effective shift of focus. No Ghost is as obsessed with sonic details as GHM was with maintaining a consistent narrative. The album takes the group's specialty—generously layered indie-folk—and punctuates it with crackling bits of distortion and noise.

Not that this is the group's foray into garage or trendy digi-rock, though—this is still The Acorn, and the setting remains ordered to exacting standards. No fidgety shred of feedback is an accidental occurrence—it's all meant to be there, and is never done in excess. But by giving themselves a broader palette from which to draw, The Acorn have avoided what would've been a major tactical error—following up a serious LP with one even more serious.

Instead, this record is a succinct beauty, distinctly bearing new influences courtesy of exceptional English tourmates, Elbow (as well as several melodic touches that suggest magnificent Chicago vets Califone). With No Ghost, these guys have loosened their collective collar a touch and are all the better for it.

DANIEL ROMANO - Workin' For The Music Man

The Constantines once sang, "Work and love will make a man out of you." It seems like young Daniel Romano has taken this lesson to heart. In the past year, the native of Welland, Ontario has been incredibly busy, releasing a full-length and a split 12" with his rock group Attack In Black, playing with and appearing on records by artists as diverse as Shotgun Jimmie and Julie Fader, and forming the folk trio Daniel, Fred & Julie alongside Fred Squire and Julie Doiron (and according to the liner notes to this album, he's fallen in love, too). To top this all off, he founded his own record label, You've Changed Records, as an output for his work. The freedom of calling all the shots seems to have informed his music, as Romano has been trying something new (at least within his body of work) with each release.

Similarly to Daniel, Fred & Julie, Daniel tackles a few traditional songs on Workin' for the Music Man, including the old English ballad 'Lady Mary'—perhaps the most immediately likeable song he's ever recorded, here titled "She Was the World to Me." However, it's his originals that make this album truly worth your time. Tracks such as "Missing Wind" and "A Losing Song" (which both appeared in alternate versions on a 7" released earlier this year—also available here at our shop!) show that Romano is an excellent songwriter in his own right. Bruce Peninsula singer Misha Bower appears thoughout the album, adding some gravity to the songs.

The overarching themes of the album, work and love, are universal, and the music follows suit. This is an album you can put on and immediately understand, which in this day and age seems to be happening less and less.

KAREN ELSON - The Ghost Who Walks

The only reason I paid any attention to this record was because shop owner Greg threw this one on shuffle, and it stood out. No doubt, Karen Elson will be catching the ears of people who want to know if the model wife of Jack White can carry it off. Just as many people will not listen to this record for the exact same reasons, which would be a shame considering the talent Elson shows in both singing and songwriting departments. No vain dilettante, Elson was involved in various musical projects before meeting Jack, notably adding BGs to Robert Plant’s “Last Time I Saw Her” on his 2003 album Dreamland.  She’s also duetted with Cat Power on a cover of Gainsbourg’s “Je T’aime…Moi Non Plus.” You can’t suck in such company.

Produced by her hubby and launching from his Third Man imprint, The Ghost walks through the sorts of southern gothic trails blazed by Kurt Weill and Tom Waits, showing a penchant for minor-key folk and the kind of cavernous Americana that the Giant Sand guys could have easily revived their OP8 collaboration alter-ego for. Her musical foils include Jack Lawrence (Raconteurs, Dead Weather), Carl Broemel (My Morning Jacket) and her hubby. She nods to different traditions via “Stolen Roses” (a variation of “Scarborough Fair”) and “Cruel Summer” (a Cajun-spiced waltz with a melody reminiscent of “Itsy-Bitsy Teenie-Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini”), but the kickers here are the haunting cabaret “100 Years from Now” and superbly-arranged “The Truth Is in the Dirt,” two numbers that nicely showcase her versatility and approach to performance. Recommended. 

TREMBLING BELLS - Abandoned Love

Electric folk is going to be a throwback no matter how you cut it, but this time around Alex Neilson and company volley right past Joe Boyd and directly to William Byrd, providing a thoroughly vital update on the sounds of Fairport Convention, Pentangle et al. And while a healthy early music influence has always been par for the course in British folk, the Bells take things far beyond beads-and-brocade renaissance hippie trimmings and eagerly display Neilson’s deepening understanding of Medieval and Renaissance music with a generous helping of period-style writing and instrumentation.  Not that it negates the fuzz and flowers—"September Is The Month Of Death" is likely the only place you’re going to find crumhorn and e-bow guitar in the same bizarre broken consort. 

All the while, Abandoned Love is far poppier than its predecessor Carbeth, with co-producer Stevie Jackson dropping Belle & Sebastian touches throughout and keeping the madness of the group’s debut reigned in. Those turned off by Lavinia Blackwall’s somewhat strident soprano will find the keys a little mellower, and the lyrics a little less dedicated to desperate heartache. In fact, there are some positively upbeat moments—"Love Made An Outlaw Of My Heart" is pure California, something like a Monkees outtake with a Sneaky Pete guest spot. Abandoned Love is clearly made by folks with a voracious appetite for music, and is a more than fair offering in kind. 

THE TALLEST MAN ON EARTH - The Wild Hunt

For a record that is so free of frills, it makes sense that a review of it should follow suit. Kristian Matsson is a Swedish singer/songwriter who has made a record of ten direct and really terrific songs. There's barely anything beyond a voice and an acoustic guitar throughout—only the closer, "Kids On The Run", switches things up by using a piano, and that's hardly an offspeed pitch. The Wild Hunt really comes down to the quality of what Matsson is selling. He's a compelling vocalist of limited tools, but generous expressiveness and energy. All of these ten tunes find ways to quickly make your acquaintance without ever resorting to tricks (save an attention-grabbing swear word or two in "You're Going Back"). It's folk music that feels current rather than retro, and it's one great little album.

SHE & HIM - Volume Two

After hearing Zooey Deschanel’s end-titles duet with Leon Redbone in the Christmas comedy Elf, I hoped to hear more from her. More fool me, then, for missing the boat when she debuted She & Him, her project co-piloted by M. Ward. The attention (or lack thereof) that she receives thanks to her celebrity sadly obscures the fact that Deschanel is a charming stylist who mines the past much in the way Pete Molinari does with his slavish but unquestionably sincere devotion to the '50s and '60s. Not that She & Him eschew modern digital production, but the simplicity and directness of the songwriting and arrangements keeps things decidedly Brill Building and, at times, aims for the countrypolitan sound of '60s Nashville (just check the faithful cover of Skeeter Davis’ “Gonna Get Along Without You Now” for proof of this). Sweet stuff!

BRUCE PENINSULA with MUSKOX and THE GERTRUDES with PS I LOVE YOU - 7" / PS I LOVE YOU - Starfield 7"

We are pleased to be carrying two new 7" singles featuring some of our favourite independent Canadian musicians. The orange one on the left there has an A-side with "Shanty Song" by Bruce Peninsula, which you may have heard on their debut album A Mountain is a Mouth. This time around, the track gets a beautiful new arrangement recorded by the mighty Muskox, while the singers have played a game of musical chairs, leading to some new voices sharing the spotlight. Side B continues the nautical theme with a contribution from The Gertrudes, another large band, based out of Kingston, ON. Their song's a tale of two lovers lost at sea, and is a nice buoy after Bruce Peninsula's more sombre side. PS I Love You make an appearance on the song too, which is most felt during the last two minutes, when the squealing guitar and feedback begins, giving the song a nice edge that really makes it stand out from the pack. Speaking of PS, they've got their own 7" with two brand new songs, "Starfield" and "Butterflies and Boners," a song about liking someone so much that you throw up. Both records are extremely limited-edition and come in cool silkscreened sleeves, so don't miss out!

Alternative content

JOANNA NEWSOM - Have One On Me

When Ms. Newsom's last long-player became one of the most unwieldy buzz albums in recent memory, it was a release that was a whole lot easier to admire than it was to enjoy. That's not a dis of the rather remarkable Ys, more a necessary acknowledgment of just how high—and awkwardly so—that she placed the bar for her listeners. A dense album where most songs hovered around ten minutes and were often devoid of recognizable verses and chorus, all delivered in a challengingly idiosyncratic, squeaky baby-voiced mewl—it's a commitment for sure. So how is it that her brand-new follow-up, Have One On Me, is three times the length, crammed with more chorus-less tunes of similarly unmanageable lengths, and yet is by far the more accessible record? It's a head-scratcher at first. But immediately upon throwing on this seemingly endless album, the difference is palpable: it's her voice. It still sounds like her to a point, only it is now more well-rounded and mature. Most importantly, that signature coyly child-like curl to her phrasing—so off-putting for many—is dramatically reduced here. The result changes Newsom's persona from that of a sideshow curiosity to one of experience and sagely insight. Instead of a record that one feels like they need to crack like some aural Rubik's Cube, Have One On Me becomes an absolutely fascinating and absorbing session. Like an interview with an old theatre actor whose eloquent recalling of myriad tales you could let wind on forever (I'm thinking Christopher Plummer myself), this record just goes and goes and goes...and you're quite happy to let it do so. Perhaps the highest compliment you could pay Have One On Me is how much it recalls the more eccentric moments of Joni Mitchell's career. Joanna sounds a lot like Joni right now, for starters. But she has the wit, courage, and individuality to match, too. You kind of always got the impression that Joanna Newsom was wise beyond her years, but the real thrill in following her career will be hearing the years in her voice catch up to that wisdom.

PARTY TIME - What Have You Learned?

Party Time, the solo project of Torontonian Emma Moss Brender (also of The Pining), is an unusual handle for music as lonesome as this, but is perhaps not as strange as it might first seem. Parties are generally where friends gather to catch up, share a laugh and enjoy each other's company, but under certain circumstances, parties can be quite emotional events. Maybe you see someone you don't really want to run into, or you realize you don't have an answer when old people ask, "What are you up to these days?" Party Time's first album What Have You Learned? might not be the best soundtrack to any parties proper, but it might just be the perfect thing to listen to on that long walk home when you're feeling weird about life.

BILL FOX - Shelter From The Smoke

Add another name to the should’ve-been-someone file. Bill Fox has a spiritual forefather in Emitt Rhodes: both were blessed with extraordinary talents as tunesmiths,  yet cursed with cruel indifference from the record-buying public and relegated to cult status. But while Rhodes did enjoy some level of fame in his early days and is experiencing renewed interest thanks to patronage from the likes of Jeff Tweedy and Wes Anderson and the reissue collecting his 4 solo albums released last year, Fox never even had that one regional hit and reportedly is so disgusted by the business that he no longer owns a guitar.

On first listen his voice (both vocally and artistically) jumps out at you, so steeped is his craft in its influences. Some would say Dylan and the Byrds, and yes, “I’m Not Over Loving You” is largely derivative of “Mr. Spaceman” or “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere”, but for me he’s a power-pop version of acoustic-period Rod Stewart, and a model for Andy Cabic’s more recent work in Vetiver. Of course, there’s also a strong pull towards the aforementioned Rhodes, along with early Wilco and even the work of late-'60s songwriter Elyse [Weinberg].

Fox's often harmony-laden pop masterpieces are kept down to earth due to a strong Americana influence. Amazingly, for all of the depth of his recordings, you’ll barely notice that most of the 23 songs here are recorded with only one or two acoustic guitars accompanying his lead vocal and occasional harmony. The few full-band recordings are rough-hewn, quite literally “garagey” and so damned exhilarating in their intent that you forgive the shortcomings in fidelity.

Amazingly, what sounds like a overview of a lost songwriter from the '70s or early '80s comes from a Cleveland artist in 1998. Maybe if he can be coaxed into resuming his career (if you could call it one), history can make amends, but for now enjoy this reissue, my clear favourite of this new year.