2015 in Music: A Tour

2015 in Music: A Tour
a writing project by Nat Bourgon

I would like to honour the full length albums/EPs released in 2015 that inspired the heck out of me, by writing a blurb about each album.

25) Annabelle Chvostek- Be the Media

It's disheartening that Annabelle Chvostek is probably still best known for her contributions to The Wailing Jennys' breakthrough album "Firecracker" (2006) a decade ago. Since she departed The Wailing Jennys in 2007, Chvostek has released three solo albums, including 2015's severely underrated gem "Be The Media." Chvostek's "Be The Media" strays from the crisp, refined acoustic folk that usually rules her solo material. She swaps her acoustic guitar for an electric, wails instead of whispers, and emancipates her previously censored rock and roll virtuoso from deep within. Her songwriting sounds honed here, and her newfound sprawling, escalating stamina keeps her music budding. Lyrically, she is as poetic and eloquent as ever, graciously veering more on the side of the personal (where she thrives) after 2012's politically heavy LP "Rise." The title track "Be The Media" is flaming and suggestive. "This Night" is feel-good. "Black Hole" is sinister.  Closer "Say It Right" is sentimental yet invigorated. You Can Come Now", the rare occasion on this collection where Chvostek returns to balladry, is her definitive career highlight to date (her work with The Wailing Jennys included). It was quietly released, but "Be The Media" is a fascinating work of art that is equally a departure as it is an exhibition of the goods that she's always been carrying.

Key Track: "You Can Come Now"


24) Guster- Evermotion

After a run of three incalculably esteemed records in the '90s and '00s that propelled Guster into favourite band status (1999's "Lost and Gone Forever", 2003's "Keep It Together" and 2006's "Ganging Up On the Sun" were an untouchable trio of progress), it was somewhat inevitable that 2010's "Easy Wonderful" would underwhelm a tad. Indeed, "Easy Wonderful" felt less like the work of the inventive, collaborative band I knew and loved, and more analogous to a Ryan Miller solo project, with a few throw-in, token contributions from his bandmates here and there. In my mind, when Guster wins, their success comes through utilizing a shared frontman dynamic between Ryan Miller and Adam Gardner, not only so far as vocals are concerned but also in terms of identity, presentation, and songwriting input. Also, Guster songs at their most prosperous sound simultaneously celebratory and inhibited. The best Guster tunes grapple with melancholia but manage to present grievances in a driving, appreciative-in-spite-of-it-all sort of way. "Easy Wonderful" pushed things a shake too too far in one direction, feeling a little triumphant and self-congratulatory. With that record, I kept waiting for the usually nippy draft to set in and provide some balance, but unfortunately it didn't. Thankfully, that essential tinge of dejection and longing that went missing in action on "Easy Wonderful" comes back in a big way with Guster's new record, 2015's "Evermotion". On standout 'It Is Just What It Is", Ryan Miller shares the microphone with Adam Gardner almost evenly throughout, proving how beneficial to the band's sound it is when Gardner's role exceeds that of a utility backup. "Expectation" is classic Guster, with its thoughtful lyrics about navigating adulthood, and its melodic roots accounted for. Yet, "Expectation" admirably pushes beyond the band's signature sound. It has that newbie sense of innocence that Guster always excels at, and feels reminiscent of the atmospheric production found on Guster's best album, "Lost and Gone Forever." But, it manages to push the group's sound forward by venturing closer to the sonics of electronic music than the guitar led indie-pop that the band made its name at. "Kid Dreams" is nostalgic but also feels fresh. On a lyrical level, it feels like a continuation of "Homecoming King" from Guster's 2003 LP "Keep It Together", although instrumentally "Kid Dreams" is much more exploratory, and risky. "Evermotion" is easily the best Guster record since "Ganging Up The Sun" came out almost a decade earlier, and it even rivals "Lost and Gone Forever" for the title of the band's towering achievement to date.

 Key Track: "It Is Just What It Is"


23) Paula Cole- 7

Paula Cole returned to music making in 2007 following an eight year hiatus. Since deciding to make a comeback, she has now quietly released four albums in the last nine years. More crucial than the quantity of releases is that these new Cole albums are some of the best of her career. With the release of her new LP "7", Paula Cole continues to raise the quality bar. Her music has grown more emotional and expressive, and reaches a higher plane of truth here. There is an interesting tension throughout the album, as her piano narrates her fractures, but her voice carries a newfound tone of relaxation and acceptance, as if she is more secure and settled on an assured, trusting train of thought, grounded on her updated belief that she will find her way in life, converse to the pesky interference and obstructions. "New York City" conjures up a trope of lament and neglect. It is an ode to being passed by, and feeling washed up, and invisible. It expresses the ordeal of being estranged from the standing ovations that used to emerge as frequently as routine. "You Will Never Know' is a letter documenting what it feels like to have been thoroughly captivated by another, while dealing with the hassles of self disgruntlement. It examines the trickiness of being a part of a couple when you are grasping at the straws of unrealized potential as an individual. It is concerned with trying to figure out how to give ample love to a romantic mate that you adore, when you are struggling to find enough love to give to your own self. "Puncture Wound" is the best of the lot: it is a crash course in how to healthily deal with anguish, while focusing in on actualizing that determination to see everyday as a fresh opportunity to hope, create and evolve. The greatest strength of "7" is that how unabashedly intrinsic and real it is. There are no promises made here to bring back 1996 and the heyday of "I Don't Want To Wait", nor does Cole want to live in the past's pale, restrictive, enclosed ward. "These new songs excel because even as they are reflective and utilize comparisons to the past, they are willing to march onward and adapt. These are songs willing to fit into the present's pair of slippers, instead of fuss about being a different size than last time. "7" may be the most rewarding entourage of songs that Cole has written. Cole has always been a superb storyteller, but agreeably, now she is telling her own stories with more gusto and abandon than ever. In the process, "7" finds Paula Cole redefining the deepness of sincerity, and bottling the wet discomfort of self awareness's spit.

Key Track: "Puncture Wound"


22) Kathryn Calder- self titled

Ever since I heard the desolate icicle that was the Kathryn Calder penned Immaculate Machine palpitation "Statue" (off 2005's "Ones and Zeros"), I longed for more compositions in the same slivered vein from Kathryn. Ten years later, Calder has finally returned to the permafront-laden, disarmingly downcast conditions that spawned "Statue." "Beach" is topped with opaque spice, but is the most penetrable piece she has ever written. It is a song with a generous margin of space, setting the scene of a devoid beach. It carries the moody vibe of a blackout, stripping life down to its most essential, minimalist essence. In "Beach", there is no battery for the flashlight.  There is just unadorned naturalness, without the artifice. Even "Take a Little Time", the grooviest thing on the release, leaves its head bobbing movements for a cushy seated position during parts of its final third. "Blue Skies" is a comforting shoulder to lean on during the tumble, propping us up a pinch thanks to the wool-like, softhearted flush of her voice. "Song in Cm" is like the idealistic counselor that actually listens with empathy, instead of spatting unhelpful words like a one-way road. "Song in Cm" brings to mind a counselor that then starts bawling in unison with us so we know there is understanding in play, not just placating at work: that we are in this together. This album establishes that Calder's gift is making music that listens to us when we need to spill. Let her album be your sounding board.

Key Track:  "Beach"


21) Kris and Dee- A Great Long Game

Hearing Kris Abbott's guitar playing is like inhaling renewal. I feel exhilarated and free after listening to her guitar parts. Dee McNeil's spongy voice soaks up the guff inside your head, and helps you land back on even ground. Whether you need reassurance or a reality check, this album will set your mental capacities straight, and will be your heart's metronome. I spent the greater part of a day listening to "Trembling Aspen" on repeat, and that song was the elixir I needed to reacquaint myself with my bearings during a time when self-reinvention was necessary. "Pilot Light" is deep stuff, and Abbott's guitar solo offers some angularity, and backs up the grind of tough love being issued and received. "Cold Chisel" is that long awaited place where reality and dreams meet halfway. "A Great Long Game" is an album that asks the universe to be its pen pal, with self-betterment as the primary goal. It is a collection willing to intake and embrace the confusion of question marks, while determined to not call off the expedition for answers.

Key Track: "Pilot Light"


20) Evening Hymns- Quiet Energies

Earnestness and sensitivity are my favourite two trait in male vocalists. "House of Mirrors" is so open, so vulnerable. Sylvie Smith's harmonies add perfume to these songs. "Evil Forces" feels spiritual. It pushes me to run more determinedly, absolutely in my marathon of living. "Rescue Teams" is both troubled and attentive. These are songs that have no interest in caricatures, and photogenic editing. These are songs about not holding back, and displaying the concealed pockets of your being with pride.

Key Track: "House of Mirrors"


19) Great Northern- Tremors

I had been waiting for six years for this album to come out. It felt like twelve years. Great Northern's 2007 LP "Trading Twilight for Daylight" sure clicked with me. I used to play it day in and out during my summer job bus commute back in the summer of 2008. "Trading Twilight for Daylight"  actually somehow made me look forward to the excessive travel time I endured. I also enjoyed 2009's full-length album, "Remind Me Where the Light Is." They've been talking about a third album for years, and it finally was released in 2015. The very fact of having new music from this band alone felt like a victory in and of itself. They departed from their label, and just worked away for years making the music that spoke to their impulses and inner taste. That the result of their labour is hands down the finest Great Northern album to date just makes this all feel even sweeter. Rachel Stotle's voice feels so triumphant and energized here. When her voice fills my ears' channels, I feel as though she is sharing some of her keen, animated vibes with me, and that they are translating into moments of activeness. Her voice helps me find the courage to take charge of my life and "adult" more often. The music on this album maintains the band's trademark for making melody sing, but the vision feels more interesting and developed this time. "Holes" tells us how to keep things heated and passionate in romance throughout longevity, as Stotle delivers her strongest vocal take ever. "Human" starts out as the quietest song on the record, but it evolves into something so much more pulsating and catchy. "Skin of Our Teeth" is downright thrilling. "Seasons" sounds motivating and rallying, as it glorifies sticking together as a supportive tandem, during those times when you feel stuck. This is a champion return for one of indie rock's most devastatingly underrated bands.

Key Track: "Human"


18) Damon and Naomi- Fortune

"Fortune" serves as the soundtrack for Naomi Yang's film, but more importantly, it is Damon and Naomi's first full length album since their 2011 career highlight "False Beats and True Hearts." With Naomi focusing her creative energy on the film itself, Damon takes control of the album, as it is his still boyish voice for once that takes the lead the most often here (usually Naomi leads the way when it comes to vocals). Damon's vocals have always been more poker-faced than Naomi's all-consuming delivery, so Damon's voice is certainly the right fit for the unhurried, low-pressure songs of this release. "Fortune" is the most acoustic sounding Damon and Naomi album since 2000's "With Ghost", which allows the duo's voices to be more up front. When Damon and Naomi align their voices in that mesmerizing, singular harmony, as on standout "Sky Memories", I am reminded of the beauty of each passing millisecond, engulfing life's quieter, celibate moments. While listening to "Sky Memories", time seems to slow down enough to appreciate the finer details. Damon and Naomi's music is about feeling, and this is one of the most feeling inspired records of their career to date.

Key Track: "Sky Memories"


17) Kathryn Williams- Hypoxia

There is an apocalyptic sense of doom and dread that creeps through "Hypoxia", which is appropriate considering the album was inspired by Sylvia Plath's "The Bell Jar." Williams employs a much more intentionally brash and choppy sound throughout this album than in her past work, and this has an unnerving affect on the songs, leaving the listener with the unmistakable vibe that something is amiss. Tension is the name of the game throughout "Hypoxia". Williams' voice, which usually comes across as direct and trustworthy, carries a newfound mysterious, deceiving tone, as though she is storytelling and improvising more than emoting and reflecting. She voice sounds weathered by misplaced trust and disappointment. There is a frantic sigh communicated again and again, as if to warn us of being conned by ourselves and others around. Her songwriting feels in line with her previous explorations, but on this record, it feels as though she then went and dipped her compositions in abrasive, rowdy coating. "Mirrors" feels cross and cluttered, and "Cuckoo" feels heavier and more austere than most theatrical productions. It is when Williams' embraces her more hospitable sounding vocal enunciation, and when she focuses on the pastoral breath of her acoustic guitar, that she really shines. The undisturbed, patient character study "Electric" that begins the record, and the grievous, touching tribute "When Nothing Meant Less both perfect the starry-eyed, minimal wonder that Kathryn Williams has been clarifying since her stunning 1999 debut LP "Dog Leap Stairs."

Key Track: "When Nothing Meant Less"


16) Cynthia G. Mason- Cinematic Turn (EP)

It's funny how this new collection from Cynthia G. Mason succeeds by de-emphasizing the element that I once considered was Mason's greatest gift as a singer/songwriter. When listening to her 2000 self-titled debut, I prized the melancholic ambiance that Mason's songs and voice mustered. Surprisingly, my most favourite of the new songs that comprise her latest EP "Cinematic Turn" is the tune that evokes the most dash. "18th Street" is indeed more driving and upbeat musically than most of Mason's catalog, with her guitar sounding enterprising and intrepid. As for her voice, while I wouldn't go as far as saying her delivery sounds downright chipper here, there is more wit and evenness, and less weep and depression in "18th Street" than in any other Mason penned song in her fifteen year plus career. Even in "One More Trip Back East", which is a much more solemn offering, she sounds down, but not out. This more levelheaded approach to singing that shows up throughout "Cinematic Turn" allows Mason's songs to wear cozier sweaters to cope with the cold endured. Case in point: The melancholia that I used to adore about Mason's music is still around, only this time it's been toned down, sharing hours with the spring solstice. Another change for the better: On her previous LP,  2007's "Quitter's Claim", Mason's voice sounded filtrated through the pudgy slime of a subterranean vent, never landing quite as audibly and ample as I would have hoped. This time, her vocals are presented much more decidedly and distinctly, and this pushes these songs a notch ahead of her past glories.

Key Track: "18th Street"


15) Megan Hamilton- Forty Warm Streams to Lead Your Wings

In an era where singles and hype are all the rage, Megan Hamilton comes through with so much more than a pile of new songs. This is the ultimate definition of an album, and at that, one that plays supremely better as a whole. Historically, Hamilton has utilized storytelling predominantly, augmented by a personal bend. But here, her songwriting output comes from a more autobiographical perspective, which adds undertone and intensity to her songs. Waves of her folk ancestry brush up against the shoreline now and then, but she elects to incorporate a few more hooks on this particular swim. Hamilton utilizes some pop instincts here, and the result is the most sonically riveting, and lyrically atypical record of her career so far. And just because it sounds best as a whole, we should not discount the standalone strength of individual tracks on this record. "The Violins" is a dreamy number with Hamilton delivering lead vocals that are teary eyed and tightened, yet also shimmering and consolable. Her lyrics here are as poetic as ever, and inspired my own writing heavily throughout the year. The drizzling piano sound that recurs provides musical profundity. The self-diagnostic, heartfelt "Late Bloomer" emphasizes how good Hamilton is at convincing the guitar to surprise and invent. If Hamilton was previously viewed as an underrated guitarist, a listen to "Late Bloomer" should travel far in altering this perception. This is hypnotizing, boundary pushing music that thrives at accentuating the rituals and character of expression.

 Key Track: "The Violins"


14) Low- Ones and Sixes

Let's get this out of the way: This is a much more grubbier, and rumpled affair than 2013's prettier "The Invisible Way", which was a career high point of theirs. Low albums tend to favour either elegance and beatific binds, or chapped, marred existence. On "The Invisible Way", Mimi Parker sang lead vocals on five songs, and the overall tone was more about embracing love's rainbow, rather than dwelling on disparaging defeat. Now, with "Ones and Sixes", the mood is much more gnarled and the lyrics focus more insistently on frazzled faith. Optimism counts are low here. But the songwriting remains solid, the band's motivation to explore shifts in sound picks up, and this is a very consistent record. "Ones and Sixes" is not as affecting an album as 'The Invisible Way", but it is still an important and essential Low album with diversity in sound and inclination. Mimi Parker's presence is reduced from her above-average level of contribution to "The Invisible Way." Parker's few lead vocals here, including the snug, amicably lifting "Congregation" and the advisory, deep-seated "The Innocents" relieve some of the scour from Sparhawk's duress-led turns fronting the band. Sparkhawk isn't without his moments too. His contribution "Lies" is a top five Low song because of how forthcoming it is toward his personal life. It examines the state of the ever-evolving marriage between Alan and Mimi in a clear cut, middleman-free expressway that gets to the bottom of it, without being overtly soapy or unfairly confrontational. The song's middle puts Sparhawk's voice on sabbatical for a time, and Parker belts out some enlightened, perceptive insight with an unprecedented feral mettle, like a position of authority's crackdown of enforcement. "Spanish Translation" demonstrates that Low can be messy and intimate at once; that these traits don't have to interfere with each other. Low are certainly at their best when they don't refuse to settle for choosing between bloom and adventure. The best moments of "Ones and Sixes" prove that this is a band that can have both, without compromise, when they choose to put in the grunt work necessary to achieve that balancing act.

Key Track: "Lies"


13) Destroyer- Poison Season


When Destroyer fever swept through the scene like a flashy fad of the year back in early 2011, I was baffled. I mean, Daniel Bejar had been making his peculiar, gleefully inaccessible, musically nervy albums for years. Why did people choose "Kaputt" as their point of entrance into the Destroyer fan club? A few years of reflection later, I have stumbled upon some semblance of understanding on this long-puzzling matter. "Kaputt" retained the fitting jabs at one dimensional lifestyles that Dan Bejar playfully mocks on every project he attaches his name to, alongside his marked freckle of prankster-like tomfoolery, but it is a much more serious album than all cousins and siblings in his discography. "Kaputt" largely abandoned the goofy, lighthearted vocal intonations that Bejar excels at. If "Kaputt' was his attempt to shirk his banter and ridiculous persona, to see what lay underneath, his latest album "Poison Season" manages to acknowledge the sophistication and melodic advances of "Kaputt" while reintroducing his audience to his archetypal madman-like, overstimulated demeanor.  "Bangkok" is a metaphor for this record's award worthy intermingling of sorrow and sass. It starts out sounding like a once-hippie having a pint of nostalgia about his glory days. Candor reigns supreme, and for a time, "Bangkok" feels like a continuation of Kaputt's reserved stance. But then, towards the end of the song, it is as if the hippie decided that he's still got it, and that life is too short to be recounting when he could be out there living it up right now, having the night of his life out on the town.  He gets animated and barbaric again, like a man brought back from the pits of an intended swan song. He speaks in the tongue of a riddle. "Bring out your dead/Bring out the light/Bring out your dark/Birds in flight/Bring out your red roses too/Hey, what's got into Sunny" (Destroyer- Bangkok). He sounds reinvigorated and impassioned with his songs, music, and even life itself on "Poison Season", and the record's ability to merge a jubilant spirit with blighted, scorned lyric, set to an outstretched sonic domain, allows "Poison Season" to impress and intrigue in equal measure. He's back!

Key Track: "Bangkok"


12) Michael Feuerstack- The Forgettable Truth

There is much fuss made about the aging of musicians. More specifically, there is enormous chatter about how aging affects both songwriting and singing. Many seem to subscribe to the idea that the voices of musicians they love start to deteriorate at a certain point: that time ultimately has its way. Many human beings also postulate that the music that their favourite bands made in their youth was punchier and surging with more momentum than the tunes that the same groups make later on, approaching or into mid age. Along comes Michael Feuerstack to buck the trend. At age 42, Feuerstack has made the record of his life. His voice has deepened, pushing his vocals into a territory where maturity and heartthrob sensory meet halfway. Listeners will swoon at how his delivery shifts from rugged to sensual in seamless fashion. They will marvel at the way Feuerstack's art reworks the meaning of macho, to include the discernment and sharing of feelings.  His music sounds more avant-garde here than on prior releases. After two decades of writing and recording, he has a greater sense of insight into his strengths and limitations at this point, so he is freer to experiment and jerk the soundscape at his own inclination. He boldly changes up some of his signature moves, while also coming full circle by completing and actualizing musical and lyrical quests that he has spent years building toward. He allows himself to admirably smirk at his bristol board of experiences now and then. He is more on target with his musical DNA throughout the album, now fully embracing his customized style of befriending wit and deliberation without any lingering awkwardness. He pulls this off without ever coming across as self-righteous or egotistic. He is a man of modesty, and thrives off his homey, underrated attitude. His music has accumulated an extra helping of insight and wisdom since his days fronting his former band Snailhouse. "Glacier Love" initially plays as a fluid and stable river with its smooth, linear foams of guitar, but further listens reveal a certain inscrutable, sphinx-like state of commotion. Veiled dimness leaks underneath the pleasant interior of Feuerstack's songs. He sounds vehement and desperate throughout "The Forgettable Truth": Vehement from having the strength and lessons of twenty plus years in music to pull from, and yet as desperate and pleading to make art as affecting and important as the first timer just starting out a career. Anyone not convinced that age is just a number as far as musicians are concerned really needs to hear this record. I liked his past work, but on "The Forgettable Truth", Feuerstack puts it all together and delivers his magnum opus. This is work worth loving. This is work that is lovable.

Key Track: "Glacier Love"


11)  Dave Rawlings Machine- Nashville Obsolete

I used to look down on simplicity. I held the firm opinion that as far as music was concerned, effortless was at odds with quality. The easier on the ears, and the more basic a song sounded, the more I would shun that song. I didn't adopt this mindset because I was obsessive compulsive with achieving some kind of hipster, indie cred. Rather, I was impressed by creativity at its peak, by shifts, and by departures from the niches that beloved artists carve out. I was so adamant for so long that success in music was bound up with complexity. I credit "Nashville Obsolete", the new Dave Rawlings Machine album, with convincing me that an artist doesn't have to be an experimental daredevil to make extraordinary music. "The Weekend" feels timeless. It has no interest in studio gags and production gimmicks. It is almost entirely built upon voice and guitar. This song is focused. The playing is tight. The harmonies are spot on, and the voices (of Rawlings and partner Gillian Welch) are so intertwined. "Short Haired Woman Blues" is pulled off because Rawlings is one of the most talented guitarists on the planet. It's got a secretive, jittery quality to it instrumentally, thanks to Rawlings' decision to abandoning melody abruptly. Somehow it doesn't sound too finicky. The dissonance never usurps the pleasurable sense of belonging that Rawlings' songs instill in the listener. Rawling's voice plays like that of a father figure utilizing his protective instincts, ensuring your safety and security no matter what. It's a comforting feeling, hearing his altruistic sounding, nurturing voice advise you against falling for the short-term rewards of a quick fix. Rawlings encourages you to hold out for something substantial in the relationship realm. "The Trip" positions Rawlings as an wordsmith to revere. He maximizes the impact of the English language at its most straightforward. A mid-song guitar solo in an eleven minute long song would ordinarily scream over-indulgence, but here it is a welcomed surprise. When Gillian Welch joins in on the song's chorus, the beauty here is beyond compare. "Nashville Obsolete" is an elite reminder of the charms of being flash-free. It is an ode to the feel-good vibes that can only come when zeroing in on real, face-to-face communication. "Nashville Obsolete" rolls its eyes at technology's imprint of rush and impatience in modern society, and then lines up for a reservation- free dinner with some old friends. This album is like a night of good old fashioned conversation in a room, where cellphones are left at home. Laughing in a room with people you love is what it's all about, and "Nashville Obsolete" reminds us of this. It also pronounces that the craft of writing great songs never gets old, especially songs inspired more by the tradition of truth than tricks.

Key Track: "The Trip"


10) Heather Nova- The Way it Feels

"The Way it Feels" resonates because of the resistance it puts up towards finality. Written during the final act of her marriage, "The Way it Feels" finds Nova clinging to the possibility of an uptick, and refuses to completely give up on her regressing relationship. Even as the reasons to remain upbeat continue to diminish, and even as mourning fills her mornings, she sings like her fate has yet not been sealed, like there is still a verdict to be made. "The Way it Feels" makes the lowest odds still feel salvageable. Nova has this gift of communicating the possibility of light, and betting on optimism's leadership, even when the sun seems to be setting. Whether through her no frills, tell-it-like-it-is lyricism that never beats around the bush, or her visually depicting, brimful easel of sonic brio, Heather Nova's songs manage to prize the unsymmetrical times of life, long enough to snatch something meaningful that hits home. Her music and words playfully splash in a puddle of dampened dreams. Her work positions the dumps as a long term funk, rather than a surrender, and "The Way it Feels" shows us how to compartmentalize life through a hopeful, seeking filter.  "The Way it Feels" is Heather Nova's strongest set of songs since her 1998 treasure "Siren". Fitted in production choices that land her in the most seemly compromise imaginable between her indie-like, DIY vision and her big league talents, and containing some of the most memorable storytelling and personal postscripts I've heard this year, Heather Nova's "The Way it Feels" is an applause garnering tour guide of feeling itself. The encore rewards here are eternal.

Key Track: "This Humanness"


9) Belle and Sebastian- Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance

Having multiple songwriters in the same band allows for added opportunity for that band to have a more assorted, wider ranging identity. It is so much more interesting to me when a band's identity gets to be extended beyond the vision of their leader. Naturally then, it is a shame to me that when the band Belle and Sebastian is name dropped, peoples' thoughts land unequivocally on frontman Stuart Murdoch. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance", the new Belle and Sebastian record, is a full throttle indicator of how much this band deserves to be viewed as a legitimate group that benefits maximally from its cumulative array of talent, rather than merely just a medium for Stuart Murdoch's music making. Sarah Martin has playing violin in Belle and Sebastian since 1996, and contributing her own original material to the group since 2000. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" places Martin in a primary role, as she sings lead on album highlights "The Power Of Three" (a dreamy, theatrical pop song with brazen, charged lyrics) and "The Book Of You" (a rowdy, agile tune with a catchy chorus, and a roaring charm). Sarah Martin's voice is also well suited to harmonizing with Stuart Murdoch, as evident by the romanticized thrill ride known as "The Everlasting Muse." "Enter Sylvia Plath" makes me want to put on some blue suede shoes, and hit the dance floor for days, and once again here, Sarah Martin receives a moment to shine, delivering a mesmerizing vocal solo halfway through that alters the landscape of the entire song. Stuart Murdoch's opener "Nobody's Empire" is billed as the most personal song he has ever written. It is at once the quintessential, classic Belle and Sebastian song, yet also moves the group's sound forward by possessing hints of show tune pizzazz, incorporating gospel-like backing vocals at times, and experimenting with a much greater use of the piano than most songs in the band's discography can attest to. "Ever Had a Little Faith?" is the idealistic metaphor for how Belle and Sebastian is at is best when Jackson, and Martin share the glory with Murdoch. My favourite moment in the track is when Stevie Jackson and Stuart Murdoch combine their voices, pooling their expertise together to create something miraculous. It's one of the few times in a twenty year career where both Jackson and Murdoch sing together during the same part. The moment feels reminiscent of male bonding at its finest: of two men who have experienced endless touring and recording alongside one another, yet seem to be the opposite of sick of one another. As if that isn't enough, in swoops the voice of Sarah Martin during the song's final quarter, softening Murdoch's sorrow with her waves of femininity, and her zen-like sensuality.  "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" thrives because of it's ability to adequately capture the hefty talents of Stuart Murdoch's cohorts. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" makes it clear that if Stuart Murdoch is "Sebastian" in Belle and Sebastian, Sarah Martin and Stevie Jackson have now finally earned their claim to being "Belle".

Key Track: "Ever Had a Little Faith?


8) Johanna Warren- numun

Listening to numun, I am now able to distinguish between having proficiency with an instrument, and being in command of an instrument. Johanna Warren has complete, utter command of her guitar. Throughout this record, she demands her guitar to re-enact the jolts and jumps of her most innate brain activity, and her guitar obliges resoundingly. Warren's guitar playing bravely takes the listener on an extended hike through her mind's realities. Her guitar navigates the choppiest and messiest junctures of life; this is no quest to soften the blow. Warren possesses the intuition and gentleness of a non traditional healer. She taps into the vibes of well-being through spiritual rituals and the forces of the natural world. Warren's words are often swollen with the ripple effect of peacemaking with your most non-ideal, hard to swallow realizations. It is so challenging to acknowledge your areas that require improvement, yet acknowledging your imperfections allows for growth. Warren recognizes that sometimes you need to feel what you're feeling, before you can begin to feel better. "No more trying/Let's sit and stare/at the indescribable deep despair" (Johanna Warren- Found I Lost). The encouraging slant of her guitar work allows her music to feel rejuvenating and refreshing, more so than cold and self-effacing. It is more normal than not for singers to impose a theatrical presence on their vocalizations. It is a typical move for singers to emphasize the emotions they are trying to convey to an emphatic, drawn-out degree, like actors trying to inspire a certain type of reaction to the character they are portraying. But when Johanna Warren sings, there is no overdosing on emotional stakes. There is no intentional presentation to provoke a certain mindset in her listeners. Warren doesn't sing and play like she means it. She just sings and plays, and we know it's real: no convincing required.

Key Track: "Found I Lost"


7) Corrina Repp- The Pattern of Electricity

In 2001, Corrina Repp gave us a heartbreaking record called "I Take On Your Days", which documented stomped on hearts, the outs of endings, and letdowns leading the pack. After following "I Take On Your Days" with a pair of more outward looking, less personal solo records, and a stint in the band Tu Fawning, Repp finally returns to providing play by play commentary of her heart's quest for transcendence and unbreakable compatibility. Her new solo record 'The Pattern of Electricity" is full of the type of intimate self portraits of sound and musings on domestication's undoing that made her 2001 LP such a prized possession. Repp's new album is also a guide of sorts to what she wants out of love's second take. Written and recorded following a breakup, "The Pattern of Electricity" finds Repp yelping more than sighing, and creating a more full-blown eruption of sound from the foundations of her minimalist sonic sketches. If her 2001 album "I Take On Your Days" is the sound of love being negated with a subtle slip, and the mournful, laborious gasp that results, her 2015 record "The Pattern of Electricity" takes a more fiery, rebellious approach to coping with a flameout. Lyrically, throughout "The Pattern of Electricity", Repp refuses to make one-sided accusations. She does not pass the blame like a hot potato. While "I Take On Your Days" is about ruminating on what went wrong, "The Pattern of Electricity" is more invested in course correction, and learning from the disappointments encountered in her now defunct relationship. "The Pattern of Electricity" is a compromise between the panic of insufficiency, and the serenity of morning glory, before the guttural cracks awaken. Every so often, Repp transfixes us with a cameo of that low, whispery tone of voice that is as humane and settling, as it is extra-terrestrial and confounding. Closer "In the Dark, You're More Colorful" opens with a deliberating guitar, and Repp's voice floating lightly, gracefully. The electric guitar starts sweating, as her voice grows grows more provoked and ruffled. The tidy beginning morphs into a rude awakening, like being pulled out of a snug sleep into the untamed, unsafe ruins of living. Repp's craftsmanship lies in somehow making a rude awakening feel like a wake up call. Repp tears down hope, only to then acknowledge the benefits of starting anew, and building from the ground up. Thankfully, her new creative concoctions remember and celebrate the blueprints of yore. Repp reminds us throughout "The Pattern of Electricity that a clean slate doesn't have to always mean a clean break.

Key Track: "In the Dark, You're More Colorful"


6) Rachel Garlin- Wink at July

Rachel Garlin rummages through the recycling bin of life's small scale, reserved moments, and collects their charms, re-acquainting us with their worth. "Accordion Song" is musically lifting and enlightened, which is the last thing one would expect a eulogy to be. There is a magic-like quality to Garlin's voice. She does not sound indebted to her circumstance, even as she is forced to come to terms with the passing of her father. It is this lack of bitterness, and ability to look at each situation and see a way to overcome and thrive, instead of look back and contempt, which makes Garlin such a luminary. There is a determination to find a reason to celebrate and take stock of the prosperity of living, even as she is singing about the loss of her father. "The Sea You See" uses personification to superb effect. "If the island wears a hat that's made of fog" (Rachel Garlin- The Sea You See). The song is more wishful than wistful, even as it is driven by a frugal, introverted acoustic guitar line. "Stranded" sidelines her faithful guitar, in favour of piano. The tune turns to Garlin's former role as a school teacher to showcase the delicate dichotomy between wanting to help others learn and grow on one end, and the pursuit of one's own passion and dreams on the other. In Garlin's case, she realized that for all the advantages of shaping young minds and filling them with enthusiasm about discovering who they were, she needed to honour her own passion to pursue her singer/songwriting career with more oomph to fully become who she wanted to be. "So we dug a hole and/From underneath we were aware of all these engines running/We could not/We could not hear a sound" (Rachel Garlin- Stranded). "Wink at July" plays with a cordial nonchalance and coolness. Garlin's sounds and poetry are fluent at conveying gratitude and appreciation for the little things. Garlin's greatest asset is her ability to utilize tone and timbre of both instrumentation and voice to unleash pockets of emotive connotations that are in all of us, but we have never before quite understood. "Wink at July" is about understanding. It's about transitioning all the drama in our head into a more manageable forum, where we can actually make sense of it. Garlin treats the minor with a major importance, and helps us see the beauty of the less buoyant.

Key Track: "Accordion Song"


5) Amy Blasckhe- Opaline

Blaschke's music used have a pensive scramble running through it.  Her 2003 self-titled album was the document of a 24 year old, soul searching her way through adulthood's opening frame, sorting through lofty decisions and earnestly conversing with herself about her chosen path. Now, with "Opaline", Blashke's new album, gone is the speculative abstraction and uncertainty. In its place is a newfound tenacity and poise that rustles through Blaschke's songs and lyrical expressions. After singing much of the material on 2013's "Desert Varnish" in a throatier, low pluck, the title track "Opaline" marks a return to Blaschke's most revered style of vocalizing: the high pitched, airy, philanthropic coo that sounds like it was birthed by angels. A shadowy, supernatural vibe hangs over the track, as if to capture the ongoing battle between dealing with the ghosts of the past, and seizing an open book ideal of the future. Her acoustic guitar is insulated here, feeling more toasty than benumbed. "Through to Blue" is a chirpy tale of empowerment and grit. Led by a savvy melodic dong, and a keen, heady sense of aplomb, this is Blaschke recognizing that what fairy tales depict as true love isn't actually what she wants. Love is in reality a messy, adulterated proposition, but this is Blaschke's acknowledgement that she values truth and the real with all its warts more than any representation or caricature of perfection. She sings "Fall through to blue with you", thus supporting the idea that true love, if built on allowing one another to see the full picture, can withstand even sickly terrain (Amy Blaschke- Through to Blue). "Walking with the Rise" is a memo about the importance of learning to rely first and foremost on your own self as your biggest supporter. The song is about self-autonomy, and how we have to be the loudest difference maker in the texture and shape of our own lives. "Walking with the Rise" indicates that waiting around for a guiding light in the form of a savior or partner is a mistake: that we would be missing out on realizing our true potential that way.  For Blaschke, "Walking with the Rise" is about following your own vision thoroughly, allowing you to move that much closer to being your best self.  With her "Opaline" LP, Blaschke reaches a place of embracing her inner pigmentation. This is the sound of a woman moving beyond the figuring and into the plane of complete and utter self-approval."Opaline" bids farewell to the reproachful stricture of youth, and now fully abides by the conditioning of her idiosyncratic grooves. "If I find some love of mine is leaving me behind/You can bet I'm kicking dust/walking with the rise" (Amy Blaschke- Walking with the Rise). "Opaline" is more than being on your own terms, it's loving those terms because they are yours.

Key Track: "Opaline"


4) Kodiak Deathbeds- self-titled

In 2007, Amber Webber (Black Mountain) set her quivering, gemstone-like voice to slanted acoustic guitar, to formulate thorny folk songs infused with a twist of indie spirit. This was under the moniker of Lightning Dust, also featuring fellow Black Mountain bandmate Joshua Wells. In Black Mountain, Webber's voice serves as the friendlier counterpart to Stephen McBean's grumpier, stingy vocal disposition. McBean usually takes the lead, and Webber's vocal presence tends to feel spotty and distant. Lightning Dust's 2007 self titled album found Webber thriving in a more up front and centre role. Her vocal chops alone command silence, and draw out our full attention spans, long tucked into hibernation. Eight years on from that 2007 Lightning Dust self-titled collection, and after sophomore and tertiary efforts that incorporated fuller, space-rock textures (2009's "Infinite Light") and an electronic bent (2013's "Fantasy"), finally, Webber reinstates her penchant for making tiptoe paced, understated bedroom folk music with the release of her new record, the self-titled effort from her latest musical incarnation Kodiak Deathbeds (alongside Derek Fudesco). "Cross That Line" is a song for lounging to, after surviving the demands of business hours. The rush of the work week falls away, and we are left with the ensuring, breathy voice of Amber Webber, soaring through the skies of searching. Her voice feels heightened, as though every second has a value of at least double its length. "I've been told I've been living too slow/Through the perspective of you" (Kodiak Deathbeds- Cross That Line). "Cross That Line" exemplifies the thorough presence of the moment's free cupboard space. Listening to this song grounds you in the present tense, and helps you feel the full offerings of all that this moment right now has on tap for us. "Cross That Line" eliminates all the obtrusive garbage clogging up valuable brainspace, and positions us squarely in the truth and luxury of the here and now. Keeping with its insistence on sporting an overcoat of mindfulness, "Cross That Line" finds Webber toning down her usual shriek to lower decibel levels, and delivering her vocals in a much more hushed manner. She sings with the residue of a single teardrop; the emotional wound no longer qualifies as fresh but still informs her shivering side effects, still wrecking havoc on a part time basis. "Gemini" throws us a ravaged blanket designed to help us dry off, after our run in with the dew of deprivation. However, this blanket is unpleasantly drizzled by the sprinkler's reach, so it doesn't quite provide us with the fuzzy feeling of a hug that we craved. This absence keeps love within striking distance, but still at bay. The song is the weather's equivalency of October evenings, where winter foreshadows its bite, but the sun still acts as your personal body guard, refusing to turn you over to the custody of below zero and its pummeling kick. Favourite "Saturday Night" is a swampy, dissonant trek through wild impulse itself. After following the marked route for a time, when faced with a fork in the road later on, "Saturday Night" elects for the unexpected turn, and strays from the path of least resistance. The electric guitar becomes tipsy, woozy from the shocking turn, as it encounters prickly thorns and foot-stubbing branches in its off-the-beaten-path jaunt. Webber's fearless decision to overturn security in favour of adventure's uncertainty gives "Saturday Night" roughed-up, scruffy facial hair. Weber accelerates from the secret telling, and muted volume present on much of the album at moments in "Saturday Night", as the angst starts overflowing, and she can no longer exist on standby mode. Webber knows it can no longer simmer on low. "Saturday Night" is the sound of the bubble about to burst. "Borderline" sways like the middle ground between a slow dance and the blare of an alarm that presses you into action.The acoustic guitar has a rhythmic snap to it, adding a percussive like dimension to the otherwise bare bones sonic recipe. Webber sounds lighter vocally, as though she is contemplating loosening up and having a stint of fun. Kodiak Deathbeds resets Amber Webber's compass of creativity, after a near decade of surprises. It is a return to Webber's humble entrance point. Kodiak Deathbeds allows her one-of-a-kind, wavy voice the opportunity to star, and her goth, minimalist inclinations a chance to become formed and mastered. Webber will surely go on to try on more expatriated musical hats in her career, but it will always be this type of spiked acoustic folk (as explored here in Kodiak Deathbeds) where I find her music is at its most delectable.

Key Track: "Saturday Night"


3) Michelle McAdorey- Into Her Future

 Michelle McAdorey's voice sounds lived in; the byproduct of experiential accumulation of sustenance's repetoire. It is non negotiable how far from fictional her narratives stand: It is clear that these are not extrapolated feelings, or a secondary source of swelling, but rather feelings that emanate right from her own gut's dusty storage room. McAdorey has this way of making flab turbulence feel less daunting, and more manageable, with her steadiness and solidified foundation. Title track "Into Her Future" examines the path ahead for McAdorey. She doesn't try to bargain with time, or turn to implants as a coping mechanism. There is no anti-aging, barb-filled commentary about resisting what is coming her way. Rather, "Into Her Future" is about accepting the changing tide, and learning to not just tread water, but to hone the craft of the swimming strokes in order to exceed coping status. This is music about thriving, and enjoying the process. She brands love as the leader in her life, and puts her faith in connectivity with others. In doing so, she comes to the understanding that life is about loving, and that we are here to love, so she might as well spend her time loving completely and utterly, instead of lamenting the shortfalls and disappointing parts. "Run Into Me Now' is an autoharp fronted number, concerned with the intricacies of reconnecting with a soulmate from your past. It manages to be forward-looking: "Run Into Me Now" is not content to just recollect the butterflies of decades past, and replay the squashed opportunities that such a big love offered. Instead, the tune purposefully focuses on reinventing the relationship to shape it to be compatible with the present tense. It reconfigures the relationship to make it viable with who she and her past beau are now, and draws on the past only to ensure she and her beloved don't make the same mistakes this time around. It takes a special song to be able to be focused on building a future of closeness and trust and depth, while allowing us to be invested in the outcome by depicting a steamy, heartfelt history. "Run Into Me Now" fulfills our romantic and realistic sides at once. "Culvert Jack" finds McAdorey combating against the ease for us to be derailed by pockets of darkness, even during daylight's bright, clear skies. She sings the words "On the shady side of the noon day sun" with a sense of rebellious flare, as if she determined to fight against the expectation of taking steps back to take a single step forward (Michelle McAdorey- Culvert Jack). The song alternates back and forth between throwing a raspy fit, and following though on a recharging detox, lending it variety and character. "Two Tickets" is a countrified, tearful parting from sorrow's clutches. It first strikes you as weepy, and regretful, but as the song goes on, it becomes clear that there are happy tears streaming down: That this is more about welcoming in a new era, and nurturing that era, than bemoaning the expiry date of the outdated field of bygones. "Got two tickets for a bright time/I'm leaving tomorrow/For beginningless time" (Michelle McAdorey- Two Tickets). "Line Across My Heart" is a visionary primer for how to make love last and prevail over the long haul. Coated with a transfixing glaze that is stamped to inner beauty's linear notes, "Line Across My Heart" is full of a yearning itch for commitment that is not second guessed or deteriorated by diverging routes or growth's abominable hiccups. This song is a proponent of speaking up and sharing what's on your mind, constantly providing attention to your partner, and communicating openly in the special language that you and your partner create together. "Line Across My Heart" says that loving harder, and always expressing wholeheartedly how much our partner means to us without holding back are the keys to love's duration. This song simplifies and demystifies love, for those who are confused and misled by all the unfit depictions of love that our society ingrains in us. "Line across my heart/Drawn to straight to your/Wasn't always/Wasn't always/Trembling." (Michelle McAdorey- Line Across My Heart). McAdorey has such a gift of encircling the past's hangovers with the future's promise. Only McAdorey is able to sit the past and the future down to a dinner table together, after estrangement's hardships, and obtain their amicability, not through rehashing what was, but through forging a new start that puts the spotlight on the sparkle of the days and memories to come. Only McAdorey convinces us that we have not yet peaked; that there are plateaus yet to come.  Michelle McAdorey's new record "Into Her Future" is the brainchild of love at its most successful. It is a driven and formidable, yet fully achievable and direct guide to building love at its most fluent and functional. McAdorey's "Into Her Future" is a portal to loving and being loved in a way where permanence becomes a tenured faculty member.

Key Track: "Run Into Me Now"


2) Heather Woods Broderick- Glider

Heather Woods Broderick excels at creating unruly astonishment. She conveys what it feels like to be lost in life's bewildering corridors, yet genuinely surprised to be aloof from the solution. This is the sound of direction losing its hold. Broderick's new LP "Glider" is about any perceived notion of found footing winding up as a misnomer.  Her music sounds like the process of trying to make sense of the nonsensical. Her songs feel itinerary-free, and stray from the conformity of goal-oriented thinking. Her music reflects the disconcerting decay of disorientation, from the initial onset of abated warning signs, to the perils of being confined to no man's land indefinitely.  Her songs themselves are inconsonant and chancy, and thankfully carry the underdone callowness of a proposal more so than the concreteness and fine-tuned polish of a final decision, providing them with an appealingly unsophisticated, erratic wild card engravement. Broderick's voice sweeps with the uneasiness of a balloon floating around with a sort of misleading confidence, considering how the balloon is probable to burst at any moment. "Up in the Pine" shudders like the weathered bark eroding on an aging tree. Broderick turns to the fantastical, youthful leaning of her voice to try to halt the fallout, but the hampered, haggard plummet endures nevertheless. "Up in the Pine" describes the feeling of powerlessness, albeit without the contempt of being a quitter or a loser. The track seems to speak for those scenarios where even putting the best foot forward may not be enough, but it wasn't for a lack of effort. There is a degree of satisfaction present for having tried, but there is also an unrest discord kicking around, because success is not ultimately had. "Mama Shelter" chronicles the esteemed relief that sets in when a hostile storm pauses for a brief but mood uplifting, repercussion-filled sun shower. "Fall Hard" is that crushing case when favourably unforgettable memories in the periphery's vault threaten to taint a relationship's present, and derail a relationship's future. This song is for when you can't live up to the high points procured in your relationship's glory days. Devastating lyrics coact with clunky, burdensome piano to create a weary, ripped aura of regret. "And I can't say it feels good/That I don't know you/When I'm not with you/I don't know you/I'm not near you" (Heather Woods Broderick- Fall Hard).  "The Sentiments" begins with Broderick posing a simple question to her partner that she seems to already know the answer to. "Will you tell me if you like the way you're living?/You keep me in the dark" (Heather Woods Broderick- The Sentiments). The song takes us through her journey of asking this question, and then waiting for the unassured, plaintive response that will clearly be revealing traces of dread and disillusionment. "The Sentiments" reflects how the most simplistic matters can end up feeling so much more complicated and drawn out, due to the headstrong attitude of emotion. Beginning with a great sense of legibility (voice and piano presented hygienically), but then gradually overtaken by distortion, jittery rumpus, and a camouflaged vocal, "The Sentiments" is a showcase for how nebulous, blurred and heated emotional ping pong with a significant other can become. "The Sentiments" is a reminder that even if both partners actively try to meet each other in the middle, serving without bombast (a serve made with the best intentions) can still lead to the ball landing out of bounds. "The Sentiments" reminds us that each partner will always have their own way of feeling, thinking and interacting, and efforts should be made in love for barriers to be seen as interruptions and challenges to overcome, instead of the final straw.  "Glider" is about facing up to the splotches of paint on your life wall; about learning to see those splotches not naively and unrealistically as enhancements, but also not with serious gripes and disdain. "Glider" is about recognizing the splotches for what they are: splotches....and learning to continue on, splotches and all.

Key Track: "Fall Hard"


1) Monuments and Statues- Fractals

"Fractals" defies its genre pigeonhole, by setting banjos, cellos to counter clockwise grooves that spill the beans on how to live an awakened life led by the leeway of variety and the hand-picked preferences that come from such customization.  The voices of Reith (good-humoured, kindly) Bromstad (sharp, almighty) and Barker (sparkling, bright) take turns leading the way, and reflect upon life's zigzag of twists and turns. "Fractals" positions love as life's highest caliber. Lead off track "Oh Great Rose" is an outburst of endearment, set to a cozy, folky melody. "Oh Great Rose" is a keen sounding gust of prosperity. It is an ode to love's right stuff. The song positions love as requiring immense vulnerability and giving, to be a rousing success. Yet, "Oh Great Rose" convincingly claims that real love is incredibly rewarding and worthwhile.  Standout track "Speak of the Sea" came to be when the band turned to their former 2009 track "Ghost" for inspiration. What was initially set to be a reworking and update of "Ghost" turned into a musical creation of its own, surprising even its creators in the process. A hazy, ethereal texture is augmented by the flirting of Reith and Bromstad's voices. In its final moments, Reith's voice suddenly stands in isolation. The shift from togetherness to solitariness is chilling, at once alerting us to the commodity of interpersonal connectivity, and the subsequent hole created by the absence of connectivity. "Red Dress" revels in its commitment to motion. It leaps, curves, traquilizes and soars, refusing to be stagnant. Lean percission is employed expertly, infusing the song with just a sliver of propulsion and rhythm for diversity, without compromising the satisfying lush atmosphere. Laura Barker's enticing, angelic coo drops over the twisty, bending instrumentation with purpose, grounding the song, while embodying feeling itself. When Bromstad adds her otherworldly harmonies to the mix, transcendence is achieved. "Spiral Tunnel" is brave. Spawned during a time of great uncertainty, "Spiral Tunnel" is the sound of a bond on the verge of being broken, but there is a refusal to part with possibility, and it is this sense of trust and faith that mediates. Escaping from being an exercise in self deprecation, "Spiral Tunnel" is that rare ballad that aims for resolution. It is a song that believes wholeheartedly in resiliency as a leading tactic for relationship rebirth. "Spiral Tunnel" is proof that disillusionment doesn't have to lead to dispersal. "Catch You" frames love as being the go-to, desert island adventure: if they had to choose one adventure to go on, "Catch You" is their declaration that pursuing love would be it. Catch You" zeroes in on what's most important: love. "Life" is the charged finale. A celebration of human ties, and the way in which we are bound to each other, "Life" is a celebration of the lasting, spiritual, deep glow of friendship love. Laura Barker and Mackenzie Bromstad's voices consort with each other like lifelong buds reminiscing about their shared experiences of yesterday, while whispering their hopes for tomorrow into each others ears, and sharing their secrets of today. "Life" captures the lift of examining past high points, while coming to the exciting realization that a new favourite memory is currently in the works right now as we speak. "Fractals" takes us through life's triumphs, despairs, and challenges, while vetoing silence and advocating activeness. It is the sound of authenticity: the sound of being alive. It is the sound of real, dynamic people navigating the curvy, diverging landscape of life. That the record chooses to revel instead of weep, and embrace instead of shun is a resounding testament to the record's nuanced charm and vivid originality. "Fractals" is my pick for album of the year.

Key Track: "Life"

2015 in music: A Tour

2015 in music: A Tour

I would like to honour the full length albums/EPs released in 2015 that inspired the heck out of me.

24) Annabelle Chvostek- Be the Media (full length)

It's disheartening to me that Annabelle Chvostek is probably still best known for her contributions to The Wailing Jennys's breakthrough album "Firecracker" (2006) almost a decade ago. Since she departed The Wailing Jennys in 2007, Chvostek has released three solo albums, including 2015's severely underrated gem "Be The Media". "Media" finds Chvostek straying from the crisp, refined acoustic folk that usually rules her solo material. She trades her acoustic guitar for an electric, wails instead of whispers, and emancipates her previously censored rock and roll virtuoso within. Her songwriting sounds sharpened here, and her newfound sprawling, up tempo power keeps her music budding. Lyrically, she is as poetic and eloquent as always, this time graciously veering more on the side of the personal (where Chvostek thrives) after 2012's politically heavy LP "Rise." The title track "Be The Media" is flaming and empowering. "This Night" is feel-good. "Black Hole" is sinister.  Closer "Say It Right" is sentimental yet invigorated. You Can Come Now", the rare occasion on this collection where she returns to balladry, is her definitive career highlight to date (Jennys work included). It was quietly released, but "Be The Media" is a fascinating work of art that is equally a departure as it is an exhibition of the goods that she's always been carrying.

Key Track: "You Can Come Now"


23) Guster- Evermotion (full length)

After a run of three incalculably esteemed records in the 90s and 2000s that propelled Guster into favourite band status (1999's "Lost and Gone Forever', 2003's "Keep It Together" and 2006's "Ganging Up On the Sun" was an untouchable trio of progress), it was somewhat inevitable that 2010's "Easy Wonderful" would underwhelm me a tad. Indeed,"Easy Wonderful" felt less like the work of the inventive, collaborative band I knew and loved, and more analogous to a Ryan Miller solo project. In my mind, when Guster is winning, they are doing so by utilizing a shared frontman dynamic between Ryan Miller and Adam Gardner, not only so far as vocals are concerned but also in terms of identity and songwriting input. Also, Guster songs at their most successful are at once both celebratory and inhibited. The best Guster tunes grapple with melancholia but manage to present strain in a driving, appreciative-in-spite-of-it-all way. "Easy Wonderful" pushed things a shake too too far in one direction, feeling triumphant and self-congratulatory. With that record, I kept waiting for the usually nippy draft to set in and provide some balance, but unfortunately it didn't. Thankfully, that essential tinge of regret and longing that went MIA last time out comes back in a big way with 2015's "Evermotion". On standout 'It Is Just What It Is", Ryan Miller shares the mic with Adam Gardner almost evenly throughout, proving how beneficial it is when Gardner's role goes beyond that of a utility backup. "Expectation" is somehow classic Guster yet, although it admirably discards thei band's classic sound. It feels reminiscent of the atmospheric pull created by Gusters best album, "Lost and Gone Forever",but it manages to push the group's sound forward by feeling closer to the sonics of electronic music than the guitar led pop that the band is known for. "Kid Dreams" is nostalgic but also fresh. On a lyrical level, it feels like a continuation of "Homecoming King" from "Keep It Together", although instrumentally "Kid Dreams" is much more exploratory and risky. "Evermotion" is easily the best Guster record since "Ganging Up The Sun" came out almost a decade earlier, and it even rivals "Lost and Gone Forever" and "Keep It Together" for the title of the band's towering achievement to date.

 Key Track: "It Is Just What It Is"


22) Paula Cole- 7

Paula Cole returned to music in 2007 following an eight year hiatus. Since deciding to make a comeback, she has now quietly released four albums in the last nine years. More significant is that the music that she has released over the last near decade has grown more and more emotionally true and expressive. There is an interesting tension here as her piano narrates her fractures, but her voice carries a newfound tone of comfort and acceptance, as if everything is actually going to be okay now. "New York City" conjures up a synergy of lament and neglect. It is an ode to being passed by, and feeling washed up. "You Will Never Know' is a letter documenting what it feels like to have been thoroughly captivated by another. Lyrically it is concerned with grasping at the straws of unrealized potential. "Puncture Wound" is the best of the lot: it is a crash course in how to healthily deal with anguish, while holding onto that determination to still see everyday as an adventure, even when it feels like your prime time is long over. The greatest strength of "7" is that how unabashedly real it is: The doesn't make promises to bring back 1996. These songs proper because even though they concern themselves with looking back and reflecting on the past, they are willing to go onward and be present. "7" is one of the most rewarding entourages of songs that Cole has written. Cole has always been a superb storyteller, but agreeably, now she is telling her own stories more than ever, in the process redefining the deepness of sensitivity and bottling the wet discomfort of self awareness's spit.

Key Track: "Puncture Wound"


21) Kathryn Calder- self titled

Ever since I heard the devastating shiver of the Calder penned Immaculate Machine palpitation "Statue" (off 2005's "Ones and Zeros"), I longed for more compositions in the same vein from Kathryn. Ten years later, Calder has finally returned to the stormy, disarmingly downcast conditions that spawned "Statue".  "Beach" is topped with opaque spice but is the most penetrable piece she has ever written. It carries the moody vibe of a blackout, stripping life down to its most essential essence. In "Beach", there is no battery for the flashlight. It is just unadorned naturalness, without the artifice. Even"Take a Little Time", the grooviest thing on the release, leaves its head bobbing movements for a comfortable seated position during parts of its final third. "Blue Skies" is a comforting, secure shoulder to lean on during the fall,  and "Song in Cm" is like the idealistic counselor of empathy that actually listens, and then starts bawling with us so we know there is understanding in play, not just placating at work. This album establishes that Calder's gift is making music that listens to us when we need to spill. Let her album be your sounding board.

Key Track:  "Beach"


20) Kris and Dee- A Great Long Game

Hearing Kris Abbott's guitar playing is like inhaling renewal. I feel so exhilarated and free after listening to this! Dee McNeil's spongy, voice soaks up the guff inside your head, and helps you make sense of your next steps. Whether you need reassurance or a reality check, this album will set your mental capacities straight.  I spent a day this year listening to "Trembling Aspen" on repeat, and that song was the elixir I needed. "Pilot Light" is deep stuff, and Abbott's guitar solo offers some angularity, and backs up the grind of tough love being issued during  "Cold Chisel" is that long awaited place where reality and dreams meet halfway. "A Great Long Game" is an album that asks the universe to be its pen pal. It is a collection willing to intake and embrace the confusion of question marks, while determined to not call off the expedition for answers.

Key Track: "Pilot Light"

19) Evening Hymns- Quiet Energies

Earnestness and sincerity are my favourite two trait in male vocalists. "House of Mirrors" is so open, so vulnerable. Sylvie Smith's harmonies add perfume to these songs."Evil Forces" feels spiritual, and makes me want to be a better person, to run . "Rescue Teams" is troubled and attentive. These are songs that have no interest in caricatures, and photogenic editing. These are songs about truth itself.

Key Track: "House of Mirrors"

18) Great Northern- Tremors

I've been waiting for six years for this album to come out! It has felt like twelve years! 2007's "Trading Twilight for Daylight" really clicked with me. I used to play it day in and out on my summer job bus commutes of 2 hours each way back in the summer of 2008! This album actually somehow made me look forward to the excessive travel time. I also enjoyed 2009's "Remind Me Where the Light Is" too. They've been talking about a third album for years, and it finally was released earlier this year. The very fact of having new music from this band felt like a win in and of itself! They departed from their label, and just worked away for years making the music that spoke to their impulses. That the result of their labour is hands down the finest Great Northern album to date just makes this all feel even sweeter! Rachel Stotle's voice feels so triumphant and energized. When I hear her voice, I feel as though she is sharing some of her keen, animated vibes with me, and that they are translating int moments of activeness and taking charge of my life! The music on this album maintains the band's trademark for making melody sing, but it feels more interesting and developed than ever this time around. "Holes" tells us how to keep things heated and passionate in romance throughout longevity, and Stotle delivers her strongest vocal take ever. "Human" starts out as the quietest song on the record, but it evolves into something so much more pulsating and catchy. "Skin of Our Teeth" is downright thrilling. This is a champion return for one of indie rock's most devastatingly underrated bands!

Key Track: "Human"

17) Damon and Naomi- Fortune

This served as the soundtrack for Naomi Yang's film, but more importantly, it is Damon and Naomi's first full length album since 2011's career highlight "False Beats and True Hearts." With Naomi clearly focusing her creative energy on the film itself, Damon meantime takes control of the album, as it is his still boyish voice for once that takes the lead the most often (usually Naomi leads the way when it comes to vocals). This is also the first Damon and Naomi album since 1998's Playback Singers that doesn't include Michio Kurihara's electric guitar work, lending itself to a much more private, personal sound. "Fortune" is the most acoustic oriented Damon and Naomi album since 2000, which allows the duo's voices to be more up front. When Damon and Naomi align their voices in that mesmerizing, singular harmony, as on standout "Sky Memories", I am reminded of the beauty of each passing millisecond, and of life's quieter moments. While listening to "Sky Memories", time seems to slow down enough to appreciate the finer details, and that is certainly an impressive feat! Damon and Naomi's music is about feeling, and this is one of the most feeling inspired records of their career to date.

Key Track: "Sky Memories"


16) Kathryn Williams- Hypoxia

There is an apocalyptic sense of doom and dread that creeps through "Hypoxia", which is appropriate considering the album was inspired by Sylvia Plath's "The Bell Jar." Williams employs a much more brash and choppy sound throughout this album than she usually does, and the songs have an unnerving affect, leaving the listener with the unmistakable vibe that something is amiss.  Tension is the name of the game throughout "Hypoxia". Williams' voice, which usually comes across as direct and trustworthy, carries a newfound mysterious, deceiving tone, as though she is storytelling more than emoting this time around. She voice sounds weathered by trust misplaced and disappointment, more so than ever before. There is a frantic sigh communicated again and again, as if to warn us of being conned ourselves. Her songwriting feels in line with her previous explorations, but on this record, it feels as though she then went and dipped her compositions in abrasive, rowdy coating. "Mirrors" feels cross and cluttered, and "Cuckoo" feels heavier and more austere than most theatrical productions. It is when Williams' embraces her more hospitable sounding vocal enunciation, and when she focuses on the pastoral breath of her acoustic guitar, that she really shines. The undisturbed, patient character study "Electric" that begins the record, and the grievous, touching tribute "When Nothing Meant Less both perfect the starry-eyed, minimal, delicate wonder that Kathryn Williams has been clarifying since her stunning 1999 debut LP "Dog Leap Stairs"

Key Track: "When Nothing Meant Less"


15) Cynthia G. Mason- Cinematic Turn (EP)

It's funny how this new collection from Cynthia G. Mason succeeds by de-emphasizing the element that I once considered was Mason's greatest gift as a singer/songwriter. When listening to her 2000 self-titled debut, I prized the melancholic ambiance that Mason's songs and voice muster. Surprisingly, my most favourite of the new songs that comprise her latest EP "Cinematic Turn" is the tune that evokes the most dash and . "18th Street" is indeed more driving and upbeat musically than most of Mason's catalogue, with her guitar sounding enterprising and intrepid. As for her voice, while I wouldn't go as far as saying her delivery sounds downright chipper here, there is more wit and evenness, and less weep and depression in "18th Street" than in any other Mason penned song in her fifteen year plus career. Even in "One More Trip Back East", which is a much more solemn offering, she sounds down, but not out. This more levelheaded approach to singing that shows up throughout "Cinematic Turn" dons Mason's songs in cozier sweaters to cope with the ever-nippy conditions endured. Case in point: The melancholia that I used to adore about Mason's music is still around, only this time it's been downgraded to part time status, sharing hours with the sun. Another change for the better: On her previous LP, 2007's "Quitter's Claim", Mason's voice sounded filtrated through the pudgy downfall of a subterranean vent, never landing quite as audibly and amble as I would have hoped. This time, her vocals are presented much more decidedly and distinctly, and this pushes these songs a notch ahead of her past glories.

Key Track: "18th Street"


14) Megan Hamilton- Forty Warm Streams to Lead Your Wings

In an era where singles and hype are all the rage, Megan Hamilton comes through with so much more than a pile of new songs. This is a true album, that plays supremely better as a whole. Historically, Hamilton has utilized storytelling predominantly. But this time, her songwriting output comes from a more autobiographical perspective, which adds undertone and intensity to her songs. Waves of her folk ancestry brush up against the shoreline now and then, but she elects for a few more hooks on this swim. Hamilton utilizes some pop instincts here, and the result is the most sonically riveting and lyrically risky record of her career so far. And just because it sounds best as a whole, we should no discount the standalone strength of individual tracks on this record. "The Violins" is a dreamy number with Hamilton delivering lead vocals that are teary eyed and reflective, yet also shimmering. Her lyrics here are as poetic as ever, and inspired my own writing heavily throughout 2015. The drizzling piano sound that recurs provides musical profundity. The stormier, heartfelt "Late Bloomer" emphasizes how good Hamilton is at convincing the guitar to surprise and enterprise. If Hamilton was previously viewed as an underrated guitarist, a listen to "Late Bloomer" should travel far in altering this perception. This is hypnotizing, boundary pushing music that thrives at expressing the rituals and character of expression itself.

 Key Track: "The Violins"


13) Low- Ones and Sixes

Let's get this out of the way: This is a much more grubbier, and rumpled affair than 2013's "The Invisible Way",which was a career high point of theirs. Low albums tend to favour either elegance and beatific connectivity, or chapped, marred existence. On "The Invisible Way", Mimi Parker sang lead vocals on five songs, and the overall tone was more about embracing love rather than disparaging defeat. Now, with "Ones and Sixes", the mood is much more gnarled and the lyrics focus more insistently on frazzled faith. Optimism counts are low here.  But the songwriting remains solid, the band's determination to explore shifts in sound does not let up, and this is a very solid record. This is definitely not as affecting an album as 'The Invisible Way", but it is still an important and essential Low album. As expected, Mimi Parker's presence is  reduced from her above-average level of contribution to "The Invisible Way." Parker's few lead vocals, including the snug, amicably lifting "Congregation" and the advisory, yet deep-seated "The Innocents" relieve some of the scour from Sparhawk's more menacing turns fronting the band. Sparkhawk isn't without his moments too. His contribution "Lies" is a top-five Low song because of how personal it is: It examines the state of the ever-evolving marriage between between Alan and Mimi in a very forthright way that gets to the bottom of it, without being overtly soapy or unfairly confrontational. The song's middle puts Sparhawk's voice on sabbatical for a time, and Parker belts out some enlightened, perceptive insight with an unprecedented feral sharpness, like a position of authority's crackdown. "Spanish Translation" demonstrates that Low can be messy and intimate at once; that these traits don't have to interfere with each other. Low are certainly at their best when they don't refuse to settle for choosing between beauty and adventure. The best moments of "The Insivible Way" prove that this is a band that can have both, without compromise, when they choose to put in the grunt work necessary to achieve that balancing act.

Key Track: "Lies"


12) Destroyer- Poison Season


When Destroyer fever swept through the music scene like a fad of the year back in early 2011, I was baffled. I mean, Dan Bejar had been making his peculiar, intentionally inaccessible, musically nervy albums for years. Why did people choose "Kaputt" as their point of entrance into the Destroyer fan club? A few years of reflection later, I have stumbled upon some semblance of clarity on this long-puzzling matter. "Kaputt" retained the high quality control that Dan Bejar ensures on every project he attaches his name to, but it is a much more serious album than all others in his discography. "Kaputt" largely abandoned the playfulness and lighthearted vocal intonations that Bejar excels at. If "Kaputt' was his attempt to shirk his banter and ridiculous persona, to see what lay underneath, his latest album "Poison Season" manages to acknowledge the sophistication and melodic advances of "Kaputt" while reintroducing his audience to his archetypal madman-like, overstimulated demeanor.  "Bangkok" is a metaphor for this record's award worthy intermingling of sorrow and sass. It starts out sounding like a once-hippie having a pint of nostalgia about his glory days. Sincerity reigns supreme. But then, towards the end of the song, it is as if the hippie decided that he's still got it, and that life is too short to be recounting when he could be out there living it up right now, having the time of his life out on the town.  He gets animated again, like a man brought back from the pits of his intended swan song. He sounds reinvigorated and impassioned with his songs, music, and even life itself on "Poison Season", and the record's ability to merge a jubilant spirit with blighted, scorned lyric, set to an outstretched sonic domain, allows "Poison Season" to impress and intrigue in equal measure.

Key Track: "The River"


11) Michael Feuerstack- The Forgettable Truth

There is much fuss made about the aging of musicians. More specifically, there is enormous chatter about how aging affects both songwriting and singing. Many seem to subscribe to the idea that the voices of musicians they love start to deteriorate at a certain point: that time ultimately has its way with voices. Humans postulate that the music that their favourite bands made in their youth was punchier and surging with more momentum than the tunes that the same groups make now, approaching or into mid age. Along comes Michael Feuerstack, whom at age 42, has made the record of his life. His voice has deepened, pushing his vocals into a territory where maturity and heartthrob sensory meet halfway. Females will swoon at his expressive, at times sensual delivery, and males will marvel how macho it is to be acing your own craft.  His music sounds more avant-garde here than ever before. He has a greater sense of insight into his strengths and limitations, so he is freer to experiment and diversify the soundscape. He boldly changes up some of his signature moves, while also completing and actualizing other musical and lyrical approaches and quests that he has spent decades building towards. He allows himself to admirably smirk at his bristol board of experiences and be more secure and self-assured with his customized style of befriending wit and deliberation . His music has accumulated an extra helping of insight and wisdom since his days fronting his former Snailhouse. "Glacier Love" initially plays as a fluid and stable river with its smooth, linear foams of guitar, but further listens reveal a certain inscrutable, sphinxlike state of nebulousness. Veiled dimness leak underneath the pleasant interior of Feuerstack's songs. He sounds vehement and desperate throughout "The Forgettable Truth": Vehement from having the strength and lessons of two decades in music to pull from, and yet as desperate and pleading to make beautiful art as the first timer just starting out a career. Anyone not yet convinced that age is just a number as far as musicians are concerned need to hear this record. I liked his past work, but on "The Forgettable Truth", Feuerstack puts it all together and delivers his magnum opus. This is work worth loving. This is work that is lovable.

Key Track: "Glacier Love"


10)  Dave Rawlings Machine- Nashville Obsolete

I used to look down on simplicity. I held the firm opinion that as far as music was concerned, effortless sounding songs detracted from quality. The easier and more basic a song sounded, the more I would shun that song. I didn't adopt this mindset because I was obsessive compulsive with achieving some kind of hipster, indie cred. Rather, I was impressed by creativity, by shifts, and by departures from the niches of beloved artists. I was so adamant for so long that success in music was bound up with complexity. I credit "Nashville Obsolete", the new Dave Rawlings Machine album, with convincing me that an artist doesn't have to be an experimental daredevil to make extraordinary music. "The Weekend" feels timeless. It has no interest in studio gags. It is almost entirely built upon voice and guitar. This song is so focused. The playing is so tight. The harmonies are spot on, so intertwined. "Short Haired Woman Blues" is pulled off because Rawlings is one of the most talented guitarists on the planet. It's got a secretive, jittery quality to it instrumentally, thanks to Rawlings  decision to abandoning melody abruptly. But the dissonance never usurps the pleasurable sense of belonging that Rawlings' songs instills in the listener. Rawling's voice plays like that of a father figure utilizing his protective instincts, ensuring your safety and security no matter what comes next. It's a comforting feeling, hearing his altruistic sounding, nurturing voice advise you against falling for a quick fix, and encouraging you to hold out for something substantial in the relationship realm. "The Trip" positions Rawlings as an wordsmith to revere. He maximizes the impact of the English language at its most straightforward. A mid song guitar solo in an eleven minute long song would ordinarily scream over-indulgence, but here it is a welcomed surprise. When Gillian Welch joins in on the song's chorus, the beauty here is beyond compare. "Nashville Obsolete" is an elite reminder of the charms of being flash-free. It is an ode to the feel-good vibes that can only come when zeroing in on real, face-to-face communication. "Nashville Obsolete" rolls its eyes at technology's imprint of rush and impatience in modern society, and then lines up for a reservation- free dinner with some old friends. This album is like a night of good old fashioned conversation in a room, where cellphones are left at home. Laughing in a room with people you love never gets old, and "Nashville Obsolete" boldly pronounces that neither does the craft of writing great songs inspired more by the tradition of truth than by tricks wrapped in musical tinsel.

Key Track: "The Trip"


9) Heather Nova- The Way it Feels

"The Way it Feels" resonates because of the resistance it puts up towards finality. Written during the final act of her marriage, "The Way it Feels" finds Nova clinging to the possibility of an uptick and refuses to completely give up on her relationship. Even as the reasons to remain upbeat continue to diminish, and even as mourning fills her mornings, she sings like her fate has yet not been sealed, like there is still a verdict to be made. "The Way it Feels" makes the lowest odds still feel salvageable. Nova has this gift of communicating the possibility of light, and betting on optimism's leadership, even when the sun is setting. Whether through her no frills "tell-it-like-it-is" lyricism that never beats around the bush, or her visually depicting, brimful easel of sonic brio, Heather Nova's songs manage to prize the unsymmetrical times of life, long enough to feel something true and meaningful. Her music and words playfully splash in a puddle of dampened dreams. Her work positions the dumps as a long term funk, rather than a surrender, and "The Way it Feels" shows us how to compartmentalize life through the same filter.  "The Way it Feels" is Heather Nova's strongest set of songs since her 1998 heydey "Siren". Fitted in production choices that land her in the most seemly compromise imaginable between her indie-like, DIY vision and her big league talents, and containing some of the most memorable storytelling and personal postscripts I've heard this year, Heather Nova's "The Way it Feels" is an applause garnering tour guide of feeling itself. The encore rewards here are eternal.

Key Track: "This Humanness"


8) Belle and Sebastian- Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance

Having multiple songwriters in the same band allows for added opportunity for that band to have a more assorted, wider ranging identity. It is so much more interesting to me when a band's identity gets to be extended beyond the vision of one leader. So naturally, it is a shame in my mind that when people think of the band Belle and Sebastian, their thoughts land unequivocally on frontman Stuart Murdoch. Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance", the new Belle and Sebastian record, is a full throttle indicator of how much this band deserves to be viewed as a legitimate group, rather than merely just a vehicle for Stuart Murdoch's music making. Sarah Martin has playing violin in Belle and Sebastian since 1996, and contributing songs to the group since 2000. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" places Martin in a much more primary role, as she sings lead on album highlights "The Power Of Three" (which is a dreamy, theatrical pop song with brazen, personally charged lyrics) and "The Book Of You" (a rowdy, agile tune with a catchy chorus, and a roaring charm). Sarah Martin's voice is also so well suited to harmonizing with Stuart Murdoch's, as evident by the romanticized thrill ride known as "The Everlasting Muse", appearing mid album. "Enter Sylvia Plath" makes me want to put on some blue suede shoes, and hit the dance floor for days, and once again here, Sarah Martin receives a moment to shine, delivering a mesmerizing vocal solo halfway through that alters the landscape of the entire song. Stuart Murdoch's opener "Nobody's Empire" is billed everywhere as the most personal song he has ever written. It is at once the quintessential, classic Belle and Sebastian song, yet also moves the group's sound forward by possessing hints of show tune pizzazz, incorporating gospel like backing vocals at times, and experimenting with a much greater use of the piano than most songs in the band's discography can attest to. "Ever Had a Little Faith?" is the idealistic metaphor for how together is better with Belle and Sebastian. Originally written in and around 1996, my favourite moment in the track is when Stevie Jackson and Stuart Murdoch combine their voices. It's one of the few times in a twenty year career where both Jackson and Murdoch sing together. The moment feels reminiscent of male bonding at its finest: of two men who have experienced two decades of touring and recording alongside one another, yet seem to be the opposite of sick of one another. As if that isn't enough, in swoops the voice of Sarah Martin during the song's final quarter, softening Murdoch's sorrow with her waves of femininity, and her zen-like sensuality.  "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" thrives because of it's ability to adequately capture, for the first time, the hefty talents of Stuart Murdoch's cohorts. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" makes it clear that if Stuart Murdoch is "Sebastian" in Belle and Sebastian, Sarah Martin and Stevie Jackson have now finally earned their claim to being "Belle".

Key Track: "Ever Had a Little Faith?


7) Johanna Warren- numun

Listening to numun, I am now able to distinguish between having proficiency with an instrument, and being in command of an instrument. Johanna Warren has complete, utter command of her guitar. Throughout this record, she demands her guitar to re-enact the jolts and jumps of her most innate brain activity, and her guitar obliges resoundingly. Warren's guitar playing bravely takes the listener on an extended hike through her realities. Her guitar navigates the choppiest and messiest junctures of life; this is no quest to soften the blow. Warren possesses the intuition and gentleness of a non traditional healer. She taps into the vibes of well-being through spiritual rituals and via the forces of the natural world. Warren's words are often swollen with the ripple effect of peacemaking with your most non ideal, hard to swallow realizations. It is so challenging to acknowledge your areas that require improvement in life, yet acknowledging your imperfections allows for growth. Warren recognizes that sometimes you need to feel what you're feeling, before you can feel better. "No more trying/Let's sit and stare/at the indescribable deep despair" (Johanna Warren- Found I Lost). The encouraging slant of her guitar work allows her music to feel rejuvenating and refreshing, more so than cold and self-effacing. It is more normal than not for singers to impose a theatrical presence on their vocalizations. It is a typical move for singers to emphasize the emotions they are trying to convey to an emphatic, drawn-out degree, like actors trying to inspire a certain type of reaction to the character they are portraying. But when Johanna Warren sings, there is no overdosing on emotional stakes. There is no intentional presentation to provoke a certain mindset in her listeners. Warren doesn't sing like she means it. She just sings and we know it's real. No convincing required.

Key Track: Found I Lost


6) Corrina Repp- The Pattern of Electricity

In 2001, Corrina Repp gave us a heartbreaking record called I Take On Your Days, which documented stomped on hearts,  the outs of endings, and tears having their way. After following "I Take On Your Days" with a pair of more outward looking, less personal solo records, and a stint in the band Tu Fawning, Repp finally returns to providing play by play commentary of her heart's quest for transcendence. Her new solo record 'The Pattern of Electricity" is full of the type of intimate self portraits of sound and musings on domestication's undoing that made her 2001 LP such a prized possession. Written and recorded following a breakup, "The Pattern of Electricity" finds Repp yelping more than sighing, and creating a more full-blown eruption of sound from the foundations of her minimalist sonic sketches. If her 2001 album "I Take On Your Days" is the sound of love being negated with a subtle slip, and the mournful, reflective pondering that results, her 2015 record "The Pattern of Electricity" takes a more fiery, rebellious approach to coping with a flameout. Lyrically, throughout "The Pattern of Electricity", Repp refuses to make one-sided accusations. She does not pass the blame like a hot potato. While "I Take On Your Days" is about ruminating on what went  wrong, "The Pattern of Electricity" is more invested in course correction, and learning from the disappointments encountered in her now defunct relationship. "The Pattern of Electricity" is a compromise between the panic of chaos, and the serenity of morning glory, before the guttural cracks awaken. Every so often, Repp transfixes us with a cameo of that low, whispery tone of voice that is as humane and settling, as it is extra-terrestrial and confounding. Closer "In the Dark, You're More Colorful" opens with acoustic guitar and Repp's voice floating lightly, gracefully. The electric guitar later kicks in, as her voice grows grows more provoked and ruffled. The tidy beginning morphs into a rude awakening, like being pulled out of a snug sleep into the untamed, unsafe ruins of living. Repp's magic lies in somehow making a rude awakening feel like a wake up call. Repp tears down hope, only to then acknowledge the benefits of starting anew, and building from the ground up. Thankfully, her new concoctions remember and celebrate the blueprints of yore. Repp reminds us throughout "The Pattern of Electricity that a clean slate doesn't have to always mean a clean break.

Key Track: In the Dark, You're More Colorful


5) Rachel Garlin- Wink at July

Rachel Garlin rummages through the recycling bin of life's small scale, reserved moments, and collects their charms, causing us to re-evaluate their worth. Garlin

Megan Hamilton- Forty Warm Streams to Lead Your Wings

Megan Hamilton- Forty Warm Streams to Lead Your Wings

A review by Nat Bourgon

November 16^th, 2015

In early 2009, Megan Hamilton released her sonically articulate, lyrically pensive second full-length album, See Your Midnight Breath in the Shipyard and went on a lengthy tour to support it.  However, a combination of tour related setbacks and a lack of momentum with the record release left her feeling like she had lost that feeling of elation that used to come with playing music. She felt burnt out from the concept of music making as a career path, and weighed down by logistics and technicalities. To combat these barriers, and to allow the winds of change their chance to whistle, she moved to Kingston, got married, and took a break from music. She started a new day job, and had a baby. 

By 2013, with her palate cleansed, and her personal life stabilized, Hamilton began to crave the feelings that emanate from the art of creation. She missed the threads of connectivity that surface though the brand of intimate sharing which songwriting calls for. After meeting Ottawa-based producer Jim Bryson at a concert and striking up a friendship with him, Megan began to dip her toes back into musicianship, only this time completely as a labour of love, void of the pressures and expectations that muddled her experience four years earlier.  Her collaboration with Bryson led to Snow Moon, a three song EP, released in fall 2013. Snow Moon was a more propped up, emboldened set than her back catalogue prepped us for. The collection included the frothy, vitalized career highlight “Tuesdays are the Loneliest Nights." Listening to Snow Moon, I could discern that Hamilton was back to making music for herself first and foremost. I could tell that she was experiencing a renaissance in her relationship with the creative muses. I knew that even bigger and better things were to come for her and her talents.

Flash forward two years to fall 2015, and my prediction has come true with emphatic verve. With the release of Megan Hamilton’s new album Forty Warm Streams to Lead Your Wings, her first full-length release in six and a half years, she has created her most consummated, dynamic entry to date in her already tall cabinet of music undertakings. Forty Warm Streams to Lead Your Wings is a record that uncorks the cryptic ethos of contrasts. The tracks here consider the double entendre of self-awareness. From one angle, Hamilton’s album divulges the calibre of tallying self-confidence, thanks to learning from and building on past experiences. From another slant, the record simultaneously delves into the thorn of aging and approaching midlife. It’s a record that seeks to reconcile the voluminous amounts of selfless giving that successful motherhood and marriage necessitate, with the personal fuel and mountainous sense of satisfaction gained by pouring pails of energy into the self-serving requisite of music making.

Forty Warm Streams to Lead Your Wings looks the realities of the human condition intently in the eye, and grins at its imperfections. The record plays perennial tug of war between the blues of emotional recession and the merriment of achieving unprecedented levels of success. Megan Hamilton has a penchant for being truthful without succumbing to cynicism or bitterness. From top to bottom, this a gutsy record, chalk full of courageous revelations and remedy protocols. Megan refuses to sugarcoat the dissonance encountered in day-to-day life, yet she laments whilst sporting a pair of custom-order shades that still see hope looming on the horizon.

Hamilton promotes the record’s consumer from eavesdropping passenger to active participator. Her songs invite the listener to have an invested stake in each moment. The listener is welcomed to partake in the pondering sessions and discourse that transpire within her anthems.

Early on in album’s lead off track “You Are”, there is a moment when Megan Hamilton voice belts out the words “so old.” It is as if she challenges time’s indentation to a full-on duel, and then takes pride in her resultant clean-sweep. This instant only teasingly infers to Megan’s crafty vocal remodelling. Her tender, graceful simmer arises in instances throughout Streams, but she has now instigated a yelping, intensive plea to go along with her whispery delivery of yore. Her voice sounds more prosperous and resolute on these new songs. She sounds engaged with the tunes and harmonies. It sounds as though these songs were written with the merits of her voice squarely in mind.

“You Are” moves the tension between the domesticated life, and artistic dreams into unabridged focus. “All my goals become so old/But my heart is new.” The lyrically driven track places Hamilton’s voice noticeably upfront in the mix. A rustling acoustic guitar provides an allotment of company to minimalism’s bachelor lifestyle, and eases the lonesome symptoms marginally. Melodically inclined string passages carry the song through its final third, conjuring up memories of when the sun peaked through the clouds momentarily, before retreating once again backstage.

At the song’s beginning, Hamilton sounds distracted and scattered. She comes across as overwhelmingly immersed in reflection, and facing a surplus of question marks, with slim answers. However, by the song’s end, Hamilton sounds engaged in the art of mindfulness, keenly existing in the moment, and well balanced enough to enjoy it all: music, motherhood and love. The stunning realization she gets to by the song’s closing corner is the way in which motherhood and love can actually inspire music productivity. Sure, more planning and care is needed when juggling familial lives with the introversion of writing and the time commitments of performing and touring. But, “You Are” is her memo to herself that her family life has provided her with the tools needed to experience fulfillment in her music life. When she wraps the song with the line, “My heart is full of you”, we get the sense that she is finally seeing the light. “You Are” chronicles Hamilton journey of altering the relationship between art and family from one of fierce rivals to complimentary muses.

“4am” is a peppy number. It evokes childhood friends in the ward of adolescence, engaging in cycles of trampoline leaping. Arms are waving proudly in the air, and the troops are indulging in the carefree spirit offered up by Saturday afternoon summer days. This youthful imagery is skilfully marred by the fatigue inherent in the lyrics, stemming from sleep-shy nights, and the 24-7 on-call lifestyle of being a primary caregiver of a toddler. “It’s 4am and I’m feeling blue/But from this bed at 4am/There ain’t a lot that you can do.”

Surging electric guitar parading, and quaking alleys of percussion domineer in “4am”. Hamilton performs vocal aerobics here, to tap into a realm where the shadowy is willing to compromise with the soothing.

In “Radio Radio” Hamilton’s coo is dressed up in seductive attire. She rhumbas in the lower end of her register to deliver the most steamy, provocative vocal performance of her career to date. Her spicy vocal trickles through the encircling instrumentation’s organic filter. Hence, the soundscape here feels reminiscent of yoga breathing patterns. The dynamics are given space to inhale and exhale without stringent pressure to advance. Strings whisk in prior to the endpoint, like in “You Are”. But whereas in the opening track, the strings feel civilized and brimming with humanity, in “Radio Radio” they feel transporting, and otherworldly, like a wild, untamed river rafting ride, jolting your primitive side onto the leaderboard with the off-switch thrown overboard.

“The Waiting Game” is a brief, jittery sweat of anticipation, honouring the in-between, transitional nature of pregnancy. It is a document of the bodily and mental changes as she nourished and supported her not-yet-born child. This zippy spark plug of a tune captures the dichotomy between preparing and awaiting. This is an ode to days of limbo, with an arch life change ready to mount. “The Waiting Game” incorporates some pop texture, and a catchy nucleus, lending it immediacy. This song also continues to audit the complex relationship between motherhood and art. Hamilton tries to ease her butterflies about being a first time mom by reminding herself of how there was once a time when her music equipment and musical terminology were foreign strangers to her, and how with time and practice, they are now second nature. “Tempo up the metronome/Set the proper speed/They tell you in the books/But don’t forget to breathe/Just play through this bar/This is still the waiting game.”

“The Waiting Game” is Hamilton’s self-addressed envelope that just like she has grown into a proven veteran with her musical equipment, and just as she has become a fluent speaker of the music language and its specialized jargon, she can and will find her stride as a mother.

 For all of the chance taking and experimentation that pervades Forty Warm Streams to Lead Your Wings, it is the quintessential sounding Megan Hamilton serenade entitled “The Violins” that resonates the most. Piano garnishes tread lightly, providing a lifting innuendo. “The Violins” finds Hamilton facing up to her previous departure from the music scene, and narrates her later expedition toward falling in love with music making again. “And you can’t remember when you stopped/Believing in the violins/And you don’t remember what you were/Before you learned to silence it.”

This is a song Hamilton wrote about coming to terms with the fact that she is a music lifer. Yes, she took a break for a time, but “The Violins” is a pledge of allegiance to music’s role in her present and future tense. This is her self-penned declaration that she is in it for the long haul. It’s her reconciliation request to music itself, asking for second chance, and promising to stay. “The Violins” is Hamilton embracing her mission as an artist, and making a renewed commitment to that mission.

“$5&U” is a delightfully grimy, pungent experience. The song is the equivalent of witnessing the air-drying of dirty laundry on the clothesline, only for the bombshell to be dropped that the clothes haven’t gone through the washer first. Her singing sounds ragged, emulating the messy whiff of the hanging clothes. The song provides a reality check that love is not all daisies and dalliance. A deliberately angular quality is applied to her voice as an aesthetic choice, which adds to the blunt tonality of the song. Musically, the song jounces and jolts with rock and roll pizazz, and the exhilaration of sprint runners. “$5&U” is Hamilton’s chance to tell it like it is; to let it all hang out there: nauseous, unwashed odours of tense emotion and all.

“Bruised Fruit” begins with a cymbal-like stencil of sound. Squiggly shocks of electronica land on the rhythmical ripples, mimicking the surge of electrical devices repeatedly plugged in and then immediately yanked out.  These shocks accentuate the song’s uncanny frenzy.

“Late Bloomer” exhibits the range of Megan Hamilton’s vocal chord registry. The song alternates between employing her prettier, chestier voice, and her harsher, throaty vex. Lush instincts meld with a stormy thrust. The delightfully dingy production smudges a blackened clot of mystique over the otherwise sporty guitar, creating visually inclined imagery of a hail downpour straddling the line between spongy and menacing. Lyrically, she pours out her heart about being amongst the last of her clan of peers to have certain life experiences and realize certain longstanding dreams. “I’ve always been late/And even then I push it/Don’t want to be passed over/Don’t want to be left behind” She then utilizes a comparison to ensure it hits home just how far behind she feels she is lagging. “I like watching you/You take your time/You don’t need to hurry/You don’t need to feel different/I’m a late bloomer...”

In “Ten Cent Beer”, Hamilton unleashes her customarily fogged countrified leanings, stashed deep within, and discovers that the glove fits impeccably. She learns through this track that folk-pop is far from her only forte: She sounds so at home here as a southern balladeer with a specialization in the drab and the dreary. This is the closest Megan has gotten to funnelling a honky-tonk chanteuse. She demands her electric guitar to take on the demeanour of twang, and it complies with resounding agreeability. Her voice has never sounded so startlingly elastic and ashy.

“November” leans and wavers like a clued in but undeveloped four-year old perched on a swing set, requiring a lightweight but propelling gust of mobility from his parental units to fly high. It feels like an eulogy for a lost love one, as if the swing set ride exposes the innocence of the former relationship she shared with her lost pal. Hamilton is left longing for the comfort and reassurance of that feathery, delicate but sturdy swing set push to guide her forward and help her survive in a brave new world without her friend to walk through life with.

Closer “Soft Cheek/Violet Rain” feels almost hymnal, with its choral sounding vocal. This swan song carries a spiritual vibe, and wraps the album on an optimistic note.

40 Warm Streams to Lead Your Wings is firsthand proof that an expansive personal life doesn’t have to mean the freezing of artistic growth. Rather, Hamilton’s album demonstrates that having a full familial life, and an abundance of love can actually lead to an uptick in artistic activity.  This is the most coherent, enlightened and well-bred record of Megan Hamilton’s depository.  In 40 Warm Streams to Lead Your Wings, Hamilton has delivered the goods and some. This record sees Hamilton make the leap from extraordinary songwriter to connoisseur of creativity. This is a record that earns top wages in both the salary of experimentalism, and the tips of universality. 40 Warm Streams to Lead Your Wings is that special place where hidden treasures worth discovering, and employable, far-reaching truths worth implementing hold hands in conjoined matrimony.

Amy Blaschke- Opaline

Amy Blaschke is one of the most absolute, undeniable artisans of our time. Blaschke's new record "Opaline" is the most statuesque, forthright testimony to date of the spark-laden chemistry between her phrases of poetics and her knack for musically mediating between the refreshment of clamor and the solace of stillness. Amy is a leading delegate of creative willpower, and "Opaline" is the answer key for how to make music that ratifies fidelity to precedent assets, while operating under oath to the illuminating tinge and curious possibility of what a blank slate can amount to.

Heather Nova- The Way It Feels

Heather Nova- The Way it Feels

a review by Nat Bourgon

May 29th, 2015

"The Way it Feels" is the most impactful, transporting, and wise album of 2015 so far. It is also the most immaculate, truest illustration of Heather Nova's musical and poetic forte. It channels the bay of life's sea that counts most: interpersonal connectivity. The love landscape is gauged, and reflected upon with a detailed precision previously only made available to us via thermometer readings. Since her last dalliance with major labels in 2001, Heather Nova has been sailing further and further down the gulf of her own artistic acumen and originality, being led more and more by her own inclinations and muses. The last decade plus has seen her make records with an increasing sense of sophistication and depth, while conversing her instrumental decor, sonic playfulness and penchant for swivelling simple language around to get to the heart of the matter. "The Way it Feels" finds Heather Nova triumphantly tuning out the cyclone's pull, as she tunes completely into the winds of her curious, enlivened soul's fluctuating disposition. The record is one that is allegiant to truth and reality, without relinquishing thirst and vibrancy.  Heather Nova's greatest strength, as especially evident throughout this new record, is her ability to gift ordinariness with a new set of legs. She makes ordinariness feel as though it has been reborn, with the chance to don a smashing cap and gown one day at its graduation ceremony. "The Way it Feels" prefers to leave an overt, candid stain when it comes to emotive events, instead of an undetectable, underlying scrape. Heather Nova embraces change: She treats stains as alterable, removable entities.  "The Way it Feels" goes further with this thread and envisions strains as facilitators of new dreams. "The Way it Feels" is the new apex of Heather Nova's storied career, as it is implanted with little bits of cartilage from her previous works, yet it sounds like a sparkling new creation much more than a compound of her historically celebrated endowments. With the eerie, amiss synergy of "Oyster" in tow, along with traces of the lyrical temperament that endured us to "Siren", facets of the melancholic, bare bone arrangements of "Storm" and pockets of the intensity of the introspective songwriting achievements that came through in "Redbird" and "300 Days at Sea", yet flushed with a topical, novel vibe that touches the gut's sweet spot, "The Way it Feels" is Heather Nova's most suasive offering of songs to date. Fitted in production choices that land her in the most seemly compromise imaginable between her indie-like, DIY vision and her big league talents, and containing the most memorable storytelling and personal postscripts I've heard this year, Heather Nova's "The Way it Feels" is an applause garnering tour guide of feeling itself. The encore rewards here are eternal.