Stars Nightsongs (Le Grand Magistery)
Blake self-titled (Blue Skies Turn Black/Mintaka Conspiracy) Two local labels team up and release one heck of a slab of vinyl. Given that most emo-core bands have the lifespan of a fruitfly, this is of course a posthumous look at these emotional and polite young men from Ontario. The first side gathers recordings from emo's glory days of '96 and shows that Blake could really slug out a math-rock time signature with the best of them, coupled with angst-ridden screaming that makes you wonder why we didn't hear more from them. Side two is taken from a '99 recording and shows the band a bit more relaxed, concentrating on melody and song structure, which is where they really stake out their own ground. Two great sides of a band you've never heard of. 8/10 (Johnson Cummins)
Bis Music For a Stranger World (Lookout!/Outside)
Lyle Sheraton & the Daylight Lovers self-titled (Sympathy For the Recording Industry)
Amen We Have Come for Your Parents (I Am/Virgin/EMI) I'd be pissed off, too, if I fronted such a subversive band and my first name was Casey. This album is all attack and fuck-you, an onslaught of rage that, by gawd, must take up a lot of energy. With a piercing snarl reminiscent of Marylin Manson, backed by a distortion-soaked hate engine, Casey Chaos inflicts just that--chaos--with a barrage of angry noise. If the establishment and its consumerist zombies are hapless, buck-naked sods tied up and tossed into a gaping pit, Amen is the chorus of spikes, daggers, blades and sharpened sticks pointed up at the blood-red sky to greet them. Hail Amen, thy will be done. 8.5/10 (Lateef Martin) With Five Line Legacy, Flybanger and raid at Club Soda on Fri., March 2, 8pm, $12, all ages Self Scientific The Self Science (S.O.L. Musicworks/Lanspeed)
Nuclear Ramjet Music for Spaceports (Ascend/Fusion III)
Wagon Christ Musipal (Ninja Tune/Outside)
Bob Sinclar Champs Élysées (MCA/Universal) Do you know what raclette is? Essentially, it's a high-class version of cheese fondue. It's all fromage, but with raclette the presentation is swankier and less messy. I bring up raclette because, as cheese goes, Bob Sinclar's latest is a lot like it--high-end fromage. I mean, who else could get away with another album of old-meets-new disco but the French? But no matter how you cut it, even if it smells old, there's no "best before" date on soulful, feel-good dancin' music--I mean, doesn't all good cheese get better with age? 7.5/10 (Krista) Pru self-titled (Capitol/EMI) Pru Renfro's debut is an appealing mix of urban, rock and spiritual influences. She finds unique ways to discuss familiar things--on "Can't Compare Your Love," she compares the L word to spaceships or bombs falling; she uses painting as a euphemism for heartbreak on "Sketches of Pain"; and equates the twists and turns of a relationship to a road trip ("183 Miles"). She also gives Sade's "Smooth Operator" a jazzy, decidedly American slant and bites the Miracles' "Tracks of My Tears" to light up "Candles." Refreshing. 8.5/10 (Gerard Dee) Bossacucanova & Roberto Menescal Brasilidade (Six Degrees/Outside)
Falaise/Guilbeault/Lepage Joue Free (Ambiance Magnétiques) Too organized to be free jazz, too weird to be ordinary jazz, too restrained to resemble most musique actuelle and too interesting to ignore. In their nightmarish homage to chamber jazz and Dixieland, this local trio enter a process of patient instrumental deconstruction, while never soaring to such self-indulgent excess that one's interest dwindles. Beautifully smooth interplay between guitar, double bass and clarinet here, each taking turns as the primary instrument of aural experimentation, each played with respectful reserve and lots of heart. Quirky and groovy in all the right places, smashed and haunting everywhere else. Think Dixieland for Twin Peaks' Black Lodge. 9/10 (Boss Sambosa) Sonny Rollins This Is What I Do (Milestone/Universal) Now in his 71st year, Rollins, the colossus of the saxophone, made his record debut back in '47 with Babs Gonzales and just keeps getting better. He's now the premier jazz musician on the planet. The music here includes a samba-tinged calypso, a couple of dedications to Harold Vick and to Charles Mingus and three obscure items from the Depression era--"Sweet Lailani," "Moon of Manakoora" and "A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square." On board are Stephen Scott, Clifton Anderson and--soon to be a Montreal resident--Bob Cranshaw, in his 40th year with Rollins. Jack DeJohnette and Perry Wilson split the drum chores. 9.5/10 (Len Dobbin) |
As mortifying as it's going to sound, this is the most captivating disc I've heard in a month, let alone last week. It's a couple of locals doing Moog/Casio covers of a godspeed! tune, plus numbers from Sun Ra, the Police, Iron Butterfly and the mighty Hawkwind. Despite the allusions to space-rock grandeur, the tinny mini-beats and raw Moog buzz is more in the bag of hypnotic minimalists Silver Apples--only with all the little fuck-ups left in. Part of the appeal is the way each tune starts so simply that you're thinking, "Shit, I could do this," and then builds into a dense, drawn-out storm of bristling electronic tones, rough and raw to the very verge of excruciating, but strangely soothing nonetheless. Super-homemade--dig the photocopied jacket--and just really cool and funny. 10/10 (Rupert Bottenberg) At the Sexglands benefit at Jailhouse on Fri., March 2, 9pm, $4
That's Stars as in pretty lights in the sky, not paparazzi magnets, though I'm sure they'll enjoy basking in the spotlight when they appear on Choix de Sophie next Monday. These Toronto-via-Brooklyn emigrés harbour a delicate romanticism of the sort that had its day in the '80s--think New Order, early Depeche Mode or the Smiths, a tasteful cover of whose "This Charming Man" is something of a calling card for Stars. Thing is, it's done with defiant sincerity and lack of "that '80s decade" irony. It's just fragile, exquisite pop songs that you find yourself whistling quietly days later. 8.5/10 (Rupert Bottenberg) At Profuzion's Carnival at Salle Molière (2111 St-Laurent), Fri., March 2, 9pm, $10, and at Sofa, Thurs., Mar. 8, 9pm, $5
Attention, all y'all getting hyped on Ladytron (and of course, those who've been blissed on Bis since back when). Ladytron's Scottish cousins in neo-new-wave have jumped ship from Grand Royal, and trumpet their arrival at the doorstep of Cali kidnoise consortium Lookout! with a six-track EP. In spite of the new label's leanings, this one has far less rawk raunch present than previous efforts--guess they've sort of outgrown the DIY, teenage Casio-punk cachet which first brought them to light. That said, the trio's still bursting with giddy energy (compare, please, to Ladytron's frosty posturing), and can always raise a digital din, with or without six-string backup. 8/10 (Rupert Bottenberg)
Goddamn, Sympathy's Long Gone John just loves bands in this town. Spaceshits, Sexareenos and now the Daylight Lovers. Love 'em he should, as this CD cooks up a righteous, raunchy, rock 'n' roll racket. As classy as a strip joint's 99-cent spaghetti dinner, producer Jack Oblivian (the Oblivians) lets the spring reverb and red-lined meters do all the talking. Steeped in Eddie Cochran/Teenage Head riffing and Wild Cat beer, songs like "King of Useless Drinking" and cover tune "Nobody Can Tell Us" walk with punk swagger that will have you screaming "wotta a real fuckin' beaut!" 9/10 (Johnson Cummins)
If you've ever heard Chace Infinite running it down over the sweet guitar on the Khalil-produced "Return," then you already know that Self Scientific doesn't play. Chace has a presence on the mic that any real MC cannot deny, but he also has the layered jazz-genius of DJ Khalil to fall back on, making for a fairly potent team-up. This album is pretty damn good, considering this is a power duo, with only the minimum as far as featured guests go (Krodon and Planet Asia). The new sound of Southern Cali is filled with punchy drums, proper lyrics and serious musicality--a sturdy platform that these two will probably stand on for some time to come. 7/10 (Scott C)
Strap yourselves in to your cryo-chambers and prepare for take-off. The next shuttle to outer space is leaving now. Estimated time to destination, who knows? But once we have reached our cruising altitude, the cabin crew will be serving up frothy space cocktails and food in a tube. In-flight entertainment will be provided by Montreal trio Nuclear Ramjet's second full-length album, entitled Music for Spaceports, a hypnotic eight-track twister of tech-trance-inspired cinematic soundscapes, which serves as perfect accompaniment for the long journey into the unknown. Make it so, Number 1. 8.5/10 (Krista)
Luke Vibert is one very talented production weirdo. Not unlike fellow Ninja Tune recording artist Mr. Scruff, Wagon Christ's first recorded album for our favourite label is laced with Mr. Vibert's twisted sense of humour. It's funny how easily this more-than-capable sample/sequencing machine weaves cornball fluff into the tightest drum-programming patterns and chord progressions. I think it's what you call making something look easy. If anything, though, Musipal is not at all easy to digest the first time around. It does have an almost creepy way of growing on you, however, thanks in part to songs like "Boney L," "Natural Suction," and of course, "Bend Over." 8/10 (Scott C)
Another instance of upstart club kids hassling an old-timer for a musical trade-off. Of course Menescal, an elder statesman of the bossa nova sound, is the father of BCN bassist Márcio, and BCN have a deserved rep for answering the often-kitschy bossa revival in Europe with a dose of entertaining authenticity. Opener "Telefone," one of several originals of Menescal's from the '60s, is the wake-up call announcing a solid, soulful batch of Brazilian party tunes, a number of standards included, that marry BCN's thoroughly contemporary grooves with Menescal's throaty guitar and well-weathered tunecrafting. A genuine pleasure from end to end. 8/10 (Rupert Bottenberg)