Joel Plaskett - Through & Through & Through

Let me tell you something - and don't go spreading it because it is a secret. A big secret. A big musical secret, the kind of secret that when your friend says "here, I made you a copy of this album, nobody knows about this band and nobody should. They have to stay small forever. Just listen to it and don't tell anybody," you keep it safe, sacred, like the best exam review notes you;ve ever seen just popping into your Inbox the night of the final.

Joel Plaskett's new album, Three, is the new secret.

Guard it with your life, my reading faithful. The secret is safe with (the maybe two or three of) you.

It is, just, flippin' awesome. I have a soft spot for anything that combines pop/alt and a lil' bit of country, but I'm telling you, if you can find a way to hate this album, we're through. And through. And through. The second track on the first disc (oh yeah, Three is a triple album, all the way across the sky), Through & Through & Through, is fist pumping, horn toting joy.

Just give us a listen, and keep the secret safe.

Dawes - That Western Skyline

So Dawes opened for Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros last week in Calgary. Sharpe was effin' sharp-as. But Dawes provided the perfect backdrop to Ed's dance and sing along like it's your birthday everyday approach.

The instrumentation was oh so tight - these guys can play. Extended solos, swinging rythm, and a lead singer with just the right mix of twang and heartache to match the sunny California harmonies without sounding tooooo derivative. $10 for their album? And they happily signed it for us after the show? Por que no?

The studio, sadly, is not Dawes' strong suit. The instrumentation becomes too sparse, each song a pale pastiche of its predecessor. But oh, "That Western Skyline", the first song - methinks it sets the bar mighty high.

The song redefines less is more. It aches and bleeds. The vocals are trepidacious and regretful. He is so shattered by his decisions that he can't even fathom making another one. The drums are there, but they don't give a damn, like they can't really be bothered to keep up time, but do it anyway, out of habit.

Premise is simple enough - I chased after a girl, moved cities, but oh, oh my, it didn't work out. It's written in the form of a letter, to someone named Lou. "Oh Lou/ no my dreams did not come true/ they only came apart".

For the first few listens it just sounds like a Neil Young ripoff. To tell you the truth, it still does on the ninth listen, but I'm alright with it.

Simon and Garfunkel - Richard Cory

You think of S&G, you think of bright prickly harmonies. You see couples with picnic baskets enjoying lunch by the seaside. You imagine a big bonfire singalong on a beach. You would never think of a song like "Richard Cory".

This is a tale of jealously, angst, confusion, simoultaneous disdain and awe for the rich and famous socialite with seemingly no flaws. He owns half ot his whole town. He was born into money. You love to hate him, but then when you meet him, or see him interviewed, you can't help but admit that, yeah, that guy's awesome. I wish I was him. I still hate him though.

Simon and G feel the same way. They dream of the orgies on his yacht. They toil in Richard Cory's factory. The instrumentation is sparse, detached, angular - the acoustic guitars leave little to the imagination. The opening licks to the verses are brief, muddled, bleak. The drums are simple, driving, oppressive. you learn to love to hate Richard Cory after a few lilstens.

And then the end, sweet redemption, or disillussion - Richard Cory goes home one night and....silence....no chord....Paul barks out "and put a bullet in his head". Another pause. Think about it. Then the drums come back in and guess what - You still work in his factory, your life is unchanged, you'd still rather be famous and dead than working your dead-end job.

Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros - Janglin'

The sing along is dead. Long live the singalong. The Zeros bring it back without a vengeance, just happy soaring choruses is all. The first three songs of their debut album are sublime. The other handful are good, but sound just plain horrible when stacked up against them big opening guns.

Janglin' is the third track. It's pure fun, la la las, sha na nas, and everyone smiling and jumping and laughing in jubilation during the chorus.

No reservations, no indie rock cache, just sing along gawddamnit.

Bob Marley - Stir It Up

At 6:40 this morning, my alarm clock, which randomizes through about 1,300 songs, made the perfect choice. A few strums of a muted electric guitar. The whir and swoop of the organ. The shuffle of the bass. The background singers purring. Then Bob. Oh bob. It's been a long time, since you've been on my mind. Ahhhh. He is groggy just like me. But is he lulling me back to sleep? No, he is tempting me out of bed, urging me to go for a run, hinting at the gorgeous sunshine waiting for me outside. Luring me. Entreating me. Beseeching me. Stir it up, little darling. Go, rise, go forward. Propel. Enjoy life. This is the power of music, of rasta, of ja creation.

Cat Stevens - Hard Headed Woman

Other than "Father & Son" and "Wild World", most Cat Stevens' songs remain relatively unknown to the casual rock n' roll fan. Ask anybody who lived through the 70s, however, and you'll find out how big of a deal Cat Stevens really was. It's kind of like Elton John - the typical AM radio fan couldn't really name more than a handful of hits, but dig just a little bit deeper, and you'll find out the guy had a number one hit pretty much every year since 1970. Just a candle in the wind my arse.

"Hard Headed Woman" is lucky to have Cat Stevens at the helm. It is his trademark angry-ish snarly-ish, sounds like there's a bunch of Stevenses echoing together-sih, totally abbrisive howl that gives the somewhat banal lyrics a well deserved kick in the caboose. Tea For the Tillerman is easily one of the best album titles of all time, n'est ce pas?

I wonder if the artist now known as Youssef Islam knows a lot of fancy dancers out in the Himalayas these days...

Queen - We Are The Champions

Every once in a while (1971, 1986, 1993), a sports team comes along and, against all odds, as the all out underdogs, defeats the best team in the league in the playoffs. Rarely, or maybe never, do they beat the best TWO teams in consecutive rounds. Goodbye Caps, goobye Pens. 2010 Habs are on a roll.

Oh my Montreal Candians, this song is for you. Just listen to half of it though, because there are certainly two more rounds to go before you can sing it like Freddy.

Sidebar: Freddy Mercury is electric. Stage presence like no other. No man (gay or straight) could pull off that 'stache better.

Handsome Furs - All We Want, Baby, Is Everything

I cannot begin to tell you ho much I love this band. So cold, heartbreaking , distant, pulsating, electronic, rhythmic and detached, all at once, blended, drum machined and ground into the essence of the paranoia and disillusionment of our not so distant to the point that it is here and now future. All they want, baby, is everything.

What do we want? Who knows, today there is too much to want. I fancy their first album over their second, mainly because the droning, unbroken mid tempo fatalistic yearning just doesn't seem to cease, despite only being 9 tracks long. And they lives in Montreal. Heck yes.

And just look at them - they actually LOOK like their music. No, I don't mean they look like they believe in their music, that is bullshit. Their stage presence is completely organic, their sound is just so naturally, them. They're stage presence.

Oh and check out their sweet travel log on CNN.

That is all.

Television - Marquee Moon

"Marquee Moon" is one of the best albums of the 70s, 'stoo bad most people don't know about it. So many riffs, guitars dueling it out, back n' forth, all given so much room to breathe. Its like The Velvet Underground, but it isn't, because its all too meticulous, too tight.

Each "Marquee Moon" song baits you in, and none of them let you off easy. They start slow, minimal, one instrument at a time, no rush. And they just don't seem to end, because they don't want to go quietly. They make you work, they make you second guess exactly why you are listening in the firts place.

Tom Verlaine's voice could get on your nerves, but not in this context. he's like a third guitar out there; especially on the title track.

You can read more about this album being the birth of post punk. Label it however you like, 'sno denying aggressive and unapologetic riffing.

Spoon - Before Destruction

Spoon has carved out quite a niche for themselves in the indie rock world. Their fifth album, "Transference", is definitely their best. This band really does grow with each release. I don't mean grow in the "their music has really matured since..." sense. Spoon is like that already deeply rooted tree in your backyard, but each fall the leaves turn a different color, or fall at a different time. Their core sound doesn't change - the crunchy guitars and raspy vocals keep them anchored, but the approach is just never quite the same on each record.

"Transference" toys with the listener. Half the tracks are meticulously crafted, the result of endless takes and studio wizardry, not a drum beat out of place, not a guitar lick wasted. The other half ot he tracks, "Before Destruction" being one of 'em, are raw, loose, lo-fi, done-in-one take versions. Songs drop off in the middle of a sentence - is my cd copy broke? No, its not, trust me, its just how Spoon wanted it to be. The lyrics and vocals channel Plastic Ono Lennon angst, and the arrangements are dense, but always precise.

Pink Floyd - Pigs on the Wing (Pts. 1 & 2)

Love 'em or hate 'em, you can't address rock and roll without acknowledging the big pink. Yes The Wall is grandiose. Yes Dark Side sgots somethins special about it. But I don't really love Pink Floyd, It's just that some of their songs, namely the little acoustic ditties, send major shivers down me spine.

Pigs on the Wing, the opener of my favorite Floyd album, because it has heaps of guitars, Animals, is the reason why Floyd is so universally beloved. Yes, that's right, the simplest acoustic, near monotone song, with a better than average arrangement but still nothing too special, is actually the microcosm for the majesty of Floyd. Why? I don't know, because I love it that's why.

And because it is a trick. Imagine the studio hours that Floyd put in making their albums. So dense, so complex, so painstakingly arranged. Then just picture Roger Waters sitting in the corner of the studio humming the melody to Pigs on the Wing. Yeah, we'll just put this one on the next album, no don't dress it up, no just one take will do.

It has no electronics. It is not avant-garde or experimental. But it is spooky. Waters' voice is harrowing, like the voice of a dead man, a tape left behind for somebody to listen to after a suicide. But in its total straightforward simplicity, it still sounds scarily original and universal.

(On the album, there is no electric guitar solo, and the song is chopped in two. But the video that goes with the youtube vid sure be perty)

Leonard Cohen - Bird on the Wire

Like A Bird (Bird on a Wire) is actually a reprise of Bird on a Wire, from his 1968 album "Song From a Room". (Sorry, to my reading faithful, I could only find the first track on the album). But be sure to buy the entire album just for the mysterious girl in that "room" on the back cover.

Leonard is just so friggin' cool. I invite anybody who hasn't already done so to watch him being interviewed. The guy is so loose, so laid back, so well-spoken, so effortless.

Being from Montreal, I have no choice but to love Leonard. I resisted, for a long while, but have finally (kind of, not completely) come around. I still can't really stand the arrangements on any album that isn't one of his first few late 60s albums. But you know what, I think the shlocky Klesmer waltzes and cheese-ball synthesizers might be there to force you to focus on the lyrics, a department in which Leonard really has few direct competitors.

But Just listen to the lyrics - like a child still born, like a beast with his thorns...is he serious? It's heavy stuff. What I liked about early Leonard is the tone of his voice - still so young, so innocent, very Lou Reed-ish sounding.

Few people can make a song uplifting and horrifying at the same time, depending on your mood, and exactly how you want to listen to his poetry. You be the judge.

The Rolling Stones - That's How Strong My Love Is

What's this? His first Stone's song review and it's a cover? An Otis Redding cover? How dare he!

Meh, I dare.

I like this version. I don't like it better than the Otis version, I just like it different, that's all. There is something about the way Mick sings, claws, hurls the word strong at you that just really hits it right where it bleeds. Otis's's love is too pure, too gentle, too sweet steamy soul. Mick's love is desperate, angry, primal, and throaty. Ju pick.

I like old Stones. It often goes unnoticed because half the songs on their early albums were just RnB covers. No beef here with Paul and John on this one, but I'd rather listen to the Stone's cover Route 66 than ever ever ever hear Mr. Moonlight again in my life. That's how strong my hatred for that song is.

The Swell Season - Love That Conquers

Only on the 4th or 5th listen of Swell Season's "Strict Joy" do you suddenly realize: "Hey, this is Christian folk/rock music!" The melodies and arrangements are so meticulous that you barely pay attention to the lyrics on the first few go 'rounds.

I'm not trying to hate on Christian rock, it is certainly very positive and uplifting and all. Its just the approach always tends to be the same, its just too blatantly uplifting. I guess that's the point.

But that's why I love "Love That Conquers". It is so beguiling. It sounds like 60s pastiche - the Back in the USSR plane landing, the breezy 70s harmonizing, and them nice acoustic guitar leads certainly take you back to a gentler place. The song sounds so familiar, and yet it isn't derivative. The lyrics make you think of someone, something, but you just can't figure it out, you're too focused on the music.

Neil Young - Look Out For My Love

Aside from "Old Man" which is about a 9/10 on the whinnyness scale (extra pts. for the extra backup vocals during the chorus), most of Neil Young's songs effin' rock. I like the Crazy Horse stuff the best, I always believed a guitar solo built on anger beats any virtuoso Page/Waters/Townshend esque performance. Mind you, Neil's acoustic work, in its austere vulnerability, works just as well.

"Look Out For My Love" bridges the gap, so have yourself a wee old listen. It has some mean electric guitar slashes, but they are kind of pushed to the fringe - the acoustic is the real breadwinner here.

Gotye - Heart's A Mess

Part 2 in the getting into the groove series. I'm tired tonight. Drained. Just listen.

The Hold Steady - Killer Parties

Ahh The Hold Steady, a band I must admit that I am hardly familiar with. I think I bought their album "Boys and Girls in America" many many years ago and decided I hated it after just one listen. I don't remember why, most every reviewer would tell me I'm wrong. But that was I only listen to 60s music Dave, today is I'll give anything a chance so long as it doesn't sound like Animal Collective Dave.

Lots of songs try hard to get into a groove. It's easy for artists to jam, but the same can't be stead about drawing the listener into the groove, that point where the music seems to actually breathe, into and out, at a very steady pace. Namaste.

"Killer Parties" does it. Don't axe me how, the secret of the groove cannot be explained. You just feels it is all.

Girls - God Damned

A lo-fi corker from San Fran rockers Girls. Their debut album Album is very deceiving - it seems like a bunch of throwaway, one-take same four chord progression derivative rock songs, but it ain't.

Girls take you for a ride. Their is a calculated precision in their seemingly straight forward approach. Each listen peels off another layer. Hey, I didn't notice that harmony last time. Oh, that's a nifty bass line. Gee, you know what, his voice does have a unique range. I'll be "God Damned".

Melbourne (2008 or 1928?)

Miike Snow - Sans Soleil

Hola, oyentes (hello, listeners). Yes, I know, I didn't post yesterday. I'm sure Julie or Julia or whoever is just rolling over in her grave because of my misstep on day 7 of 365. She'll get over it, and so will you.

"Sans Soleil" is the perfect song to take a poke at on a cold and rainy afternoon in Montreal. Miike Snow is not a person, btw, but a duo of modern day Brill Building acolytes who have manufactured hits for Britney and Kylie. Come on, you know it, "Toxic" is a sweet track, just admit it and we'll move on.

The production on this one is slick, like gliding on the icy surface of some far-away planet. The lyrics may not have a cosmic meaning, but they get a passing grade. On my 6am morning run "Sans Soleil" sounded like humans on the brink of the apocalypse, existentially questioning whether they really deserve to live even if they win the battle against the machines. Deep.

Ooooooooh ooohoo hoooo oooos abound, coupled with the squeaking sounds of some I, Robot come to life = a nice way to spend 4 minutes. Check it out.

Joy Division - Transmission

Ian Curtis was dark, really dark, so dark that if his recent biopic were shot in anything but black and white, well, you'd just go: pfshhh, shfffh, tsfff pfff, yeah right.

Listening to Joy Division is like watching the one guy in the club who is on hard drugs dancing to his own phantom rhythm on the dance floor. His eyes are red, the movements are spastic, but there is a certain controlled angst to it. Joy Division's music has a driving quality, each song feels like it is being pulled away from the past, thrusting towards a defined ending. It is a burst of kinetic energy that is about to hit a brick wall.

"Transmission" moves. The bass is just egging the other instruments on while the lead guitar grapples and jockeys for position. And just look at Ian - yeah, I know, he's creeping me out too.

Radiohead - Dollars & Cents

You know what? We're all way too busy. I mean, it's just too easy to do fifteen things at once these days. You download songs directly onto your phone. You get directions straight from the internet (which you have on your phone). Remember when dialing 4-1-1 used to be a 75 cent luxury reserved only for desperate moments? Those days, are gone.

Same goes for listening to music. We are passive. Putting on headphones is an exercise reserved strictly for sitting on the metro or going for a run. Nobody just sits, in their favorite easy chair in their house, no less, and just listens to music. Think about it, when was the last time you just lied on your bed, dimmed the lights, zoned out, and just listened to an entire album?

For many of you the answer is never.

So right now, my faithful two or three of you that will actually read this, please drop what you're doing. Listen to Radiohead's "Dollars & Cents". Let the baseline coo you into submission. Allow the strings to swell from ear to ear. Smile as the drums hammer away. Breathe deep. Close your eyes. Descansar (relax in Spanish). It will only take four minutes, then you can get back to whatever it is you were doing.

Dirty Projectors - Rise Above

The moment Dave shrieks out the opening yelp of the first syllable of the first word of "Rise Above" is pure, ummm, well, I don't know really. I know I grimaced, and thought, well, I don't know what I thought. It doesn't sound good, but it definitely isn't bad. So what is it?

Nobody knows. The Dirty Projectors are defined by dissonance, or do they define dissonance? I think that's the band's secret - you spend so much time thinking about what their music is that just listening to their album can never be a passive experience.

Is it R&B? Rock? Pop? Art Rock? What is art rock?

What it isn't is easy. The Dirty Projectors make you work. It is a labor of indie-rock love, and there's no guarantee that you'll eventually like their, their, their... sound?

Enough questions. Listen to "Rise Above", and then jump into their latest album "Bitte Orca". I promise you that you won't/will be disappointed.

Soko - I'll Kill Her

Out of context, well, imagine it in a you-know-it's-the-name-of-a-pop-song-but-you-don't-know-who-sings-it kind of out of context, this song title surely reeks of death metal.

Didn't your mama tell you not to judge a book by its cover?

The artist - Soko, French, female, petite - is the furthest cry from death metal.

Not to say that "I'll Kill Her" is devoid of angst. If she steals you from me, oh boy, I'll kill her. Simple as that.

But the tone is so light, so effortless, so pop-infused, that you can't help but laugh. The spoken verse reminds us of something we always do, but really shouldn't: idealizing the perfect, step by step path, in minute detail, towards falling in love. Guys, don't smirk, these thoughts aren't reserved for girls. You do this too.

The lilting guitar leads keep the pace rolling, and the infectious chorus will have you humming "I'll kill her, I'll kill her" as you stroll down the street, to the disgusted looks of passerbys, all of which are so unjustly taking your comments out of context.

Van Morrison - T.B. Sheets

"Open up the window...and let me breathe." Van isn't so much feeling itchy and stuffed up as he is gagging for air.

I always thought of this song as an Astral Weeks b-side. But something about Van's tone is just a bit more abrupt, a bit more demonic and very Jagger-like. It lacks the breezy janglin' tone of Astral Weeks, but its all the better because of it.

Van, more so than any male vocalist who isn't Otis Redding, has soul. It doesn't matter how resonant his voice is, it's how he uses it. He rarely sings. He jabs, claws, aches, mumbles, cries, whines and chuckles. Where a virtuoso guitarist would play some staccato burst of notes to "let me breathe", Van just pants like dog.

That's the beauty of "T.B. Sheets". You don't remember it by its instruments, or though its chorus and verses (of which it has none). The song is an atmospheric dry heave; a nine minute plus stretch of terror stricken gasps and chortles, a man desperate to escape.

Someone open up a window.

Ray Davies - All Night Stand

A throwback. But oh so cozy. Early Kinks, à la "You Really Got Me", created a wall of sound with just one instrument. Mmm that fuzzy guitar. Ba na na na na. Ba na na na na. Girl, you've got me so I don't know what I'm doing.

"All Night Stand" is "Got Me"'s Sunday morning hangover. But it's a jubilant hangover, one where each sharp stab of pain is worn like a badge of honor.

Simplicity never sounded so good. The same old chord progression, that derivative 60's hook. It doesn't matter, it just works. Forty seconds in, everybody is in on the fun. Ray is joined by other voices, a piano, some drums. They're in no hurry, nowhere they need to be. But something about the effort just isn't quite effortless, reminding you not to just listen. Ray's been a thousand places, a thousand girls, and he kind of wants you to know it.