Wolf Alice’s second album, Visions of a Life, is a bold, brave and brilliant effort. The Brit rockers have made a record so jaw-droppingly advanced that it is definitively a potential contender for album of the year. Following their 2015 debut, My Love is Cool, the group’s sophomore album is an effortless extension of their sound. The musicality displayed in each song has just the right combination of intricacy and immediacy. Wolf Alice grip onto their dirtier, nastier roots on “Yuk Foo” and “Formidable Cool.” Guitarist Joff Oddie’s riffage is tumbling and sleazy, while singer Ellie Rowsell savagely howls: “That’s all he fucking did when he fucked you on the floor!” Elevating the record from its grunge roots, “Don’t Delete the Kisses” is a standout track. The song, with its cinematic grace, is becoming an instant modern classic. With Visions of a Life, Wolf Alice have removed any doubt of their status in the UK music scene.
This last month saw a plethora of quality releases ranging from international to local
In a month that saw releases from electronic music heavy-hitters like Bicep, Lunice and Mount Kimbie, it was the lesser anticipated albums that proved superior. Here are the top electronic albums of September 2017.
John T. Gast –INNA BABALON(Haunter Records)
Originally released in May 2016 on cassette in an outrageously limited run of only 100 copies, INNA BABALON was revived this month in the form of a (slightly less) limited edition run of 300 12-inch vinyl pressings. Trying to pinpoint all the influences on this record is as challenging as obtaining a hard copy. Hints of dub can be made out in tracks like “Babi Calling” and “Surman,” while percussion is forgotten altogether in the nearly neoclassical “Those Secluded Preferences.” Gast’s stuttering drums and distorted synth cuts sound all too natural next to soothing harp cords and warm bongo percussion. Haunter Records has a knack for putting out top-notch experimental works, and INNA BABALON is undoubtedly one of their top releases to date.
Ninos du Brasil – Vida Eterna(Hospital Productions) Latin-infused, Euro-style techno from an Italian duo under the name Ninos du Brasil? If that’s a lot to think about, a listen to their newest full-length, Vida Eterna, should clear your thoughts. There’s absolutely nothing complicated about Ninos du Brasil’s pure and rhythmic dance music, making for a relatively calming take on industrial techno. While at times quite dark and haunting, there’s an inherent warmth to the music. This is present in the form of lively ambient layers of rainforest soundscapes and batucada-style vocals and rhythms. Admittedly not the most versatile of albums, each track on Vida Eterna certainly boasts a specific type of dance floor functionality. The album as a whole, though, is singular enough to demand a full listen through. Or two. Or 10.
Steffi – World Of The Waking State(Ostgut Ton)
Panorama Bar resident Steffi took a step away from the dance floor for her latest LP, World of the Waking State. Instead, she sets a new standard for modern IDM production. While staying true to the Ostgut Ton sound, Steffi’s newest work is alive with sounds that seem almost too natural to be produced by her wide array of synthesizers. On “Continuum of the Mind,” deep and distant bassline hits clash with soft and melodic synth waves to create a sense of blissful disconnection, while the electro-infused “Schools of Thought” comes across as driven and full of intent. The album’s ability to create an environment through sound is truly its greatest asset. Each song seems to incorporate visuals of a new, simultaneously natural-yet-robotic ecosystem of sound. Steffi is no stranger to working a Berlin dance floor (look to her Resident Advisor podcasts for evidence), and while any track off World of the Waking State has the potential to move a crowd, the album, as a complete work, is no doubt a contender for electronic album of the year. Needless to say, Steffi has found her sound.
SLEAZY – From Quebec With Love(Tag Out)
A collaborative work from Montrealers Marie Davidson and Ginger Breaker, From Quebec With Love is likely the first dance music record that doubles as “an ode to the rural and suburban Quebec experience,” as stated on the group’s Bandcamp page. The duo dabbles in undeniably Québécois themes, be it through the twisted and panicked chords of the aptly titled “Cauchemar Administratif,” or the complaints of an unsatisfied Montreal party-goer in “Rave Melancholie.” The album peaks at its second-to-last track, “Sex Jam,” a sensual, yet forceful, certified dance floor killer—one that wouldn’t seem out of place whatsoever at a defunct Mile-End basement party. While the grinding synths present throughout the album fall on the more aggressive end of the spectrum, there’s something unquestionably fun about the work as a whole. Most of the fun, however, likely derives from the record’s capacity to relate to Quebec listeners, which is why From Quebec With Love hasn’t exactly been making waves outside of the province.
Honorable Mention: Yves Tumor – Experiencing The Deposit Of Faith(Unreleased)
Although not technically an album, Yves Tumor’s latest collection of songs is a true showing of the Tennessee-born, Turin-based artist’s versatility. From the uncomfortable, distorted noise on “Child of Rage” to a warm and cozy contemporary R&B tune “Anya’s Loop,” Yves Tumor produced a compilation that, if given a proper release, could rival the success of his 2016 experimental masterpiece, Serpent Music.
A look back at the politically-charged masterpiece that remains relevant to this day
Marvin Gaye is mostly known for his smooth and sexy songs. Due to his sultry and powerful voice, Gaye’s ability to portray sensuality is unmatchable. The instrumentation backing his tracks is always grand and lush. “Let’s Get it On” has soundtracked countless movies and is cliched to the point of parody. Joints like “Sexual Healing,” on the other hand, emphasize the restorative powers, physically and spiritually, of sex. However, arguably, his most seminal album, What’s Going On (1971), has nothing to do with sensuality.
During the late 60s and early 70s, the world was rife with political and social struggle. At the same time, people were becoming more conscious about historical injustices and encouraging many to join movements trying to subvert government monoliths. At the peak of the Vietnam war, the idealistic hippie movement became overshadowed by Richard Nixon’s presidency—and his “Southern strategy,” which targeted white southerners as a way to counteract black voters, who were shifting to the Democratic party. As the world was embroiled in endless political unrest, Gaye released What’s Going On, an album that remains relevant in contemporary culture and political landscapes to this day.
According to NPR, the album was inspired by Gaye’s brother, Frankie, returning from Vietnam. During Frankie’s service in the war, his worldview changed. Gaye decided to write the whole album from his brother’s point of view. The album never becomes disingenuous or trite, but skillfully deals with themes of political discontent, drug abuse, poverty and ecological destruction. Musically, the album’s tracks flow seamlessly from one to the next, highlighting Gaye’s connection to minority communities.
According to CBC Music, the album was released under the Motown label and was its biggest success in terms of sales. While it was initially seen as risky, the album received critical acclaim and mainstream popularity. It’s important to highlight the album’s success, because it exposed many people to the profound perspective of living in black America.
In “What’s Happening Brother,” Gaye contrasts the supposed progress America has made, singing: “Are things really gettin’ better, like the newspaper said / Can’t find no work, can’t find no job my friend / Money is tighter than it’s ever been / Say man, I just don’t understand / What’s going on across this land.” The track astutely illustrates the disparity between people’s experiences and the ideal of what society “should” be. Then, the album transitions smoothly into the next song.
On “Flyin’ High (In the Friendly Sky)” Gaye explores the pain of drug addiction and the broken psyche of an addict. He sings: “Nobody really understands, no no / And I go to the place where the good feelin’ awaits me / Self destruction in my hand.” Gaye analyzed an aspect of drug use rarely explored at the time: isolation. Soldiers came back from Vietnam physically and mentally wounded, lacking adequate support from the government. This is the case for marginalized war veterans; not many people can understand the trauma of war and the difficulties that come with re-assimilating into civilian life. Some resort to drugs as a vehicle of escape.
“God Is Love” is a short but sweet interlude to the more thematically dense tracks. The instrumentation on this track is smooth and energetic, while the strings and the polished piano sound supplement Gaye’s expressive voice. Gaye’s spirituality can really be felt in this track. It seems like a genuine belief and not an idealistic plea for religion. The track fluidly transitions into “Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology).”
This track is one of the most predictive cuts off the album. It focuses on climate change during an era when very few artists knew about this issue. Gaye laments the environmental ravages of his modern era: the poisonous winds, our oil-polluted seas, the extinct animals and the overcrowded cities. Instrumentally, the track has a beautiful tenor saxophone lead and swelling strings. Again, Gaye’s vocals are impassioned. The performance evokes an authentic grief about the state of our environment.
Unfortunately, the aforementioned problems detailed in the album have deep historical roots—problems that people still face today. On “Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler),” Gaye sings about systemic oppression and its constricting effects on marginalized communities, specifically black communities. Lines like: “Money, we make it / Fore we see it you take it / Oh, make you wanna holler / The way they do my life” and “Crime is increasing / Trigger happy policing / Panic is spreading / God knows where” are still relevant today.
Many think we live in a particularly unique and challenging time, given the recent rise of ultra-conservative movements and power-hungry politicians. Historically, systematically oppressed people have never benefited from the powers-that-be, but rather suffered under the power of others. Black people and other minorities have experienced brutality, suffering and injustice since the advent of the United States and Canada. Those lived experiences and struggles have been emphatically and systematically ignored by the privileged mainstream news media for years.
Gaye’s album is a dense, breathtaking journey that is as pop accessible as it is artistically poignant. What’s Going On doesn’t preach and never delves into the pompous side of politically-charged music. It’s an account of shared experiences that many people can relate to. Albums like Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly (2015) and its striking political clarity can be traced back to this album. What’s Going On still remains an essential masterpiece and a potent reminder of long-standing struggles.
Continuing the tradition of post-hippie era folkies, who scrapped the free love sentiment of the 60s for a more pastoral and sentimental sound, L.A-based Shannon Lay can be spoken about in the same breath as icons of the genre. Her newest record, Living Water, is a testament to this sound. Brimming with gentle nostalgia and heartbreak, Living Water is tenderly personal and possesses an unimaginable beauty. The wispy vocals, gently fingerpicked guitar and occasional waves of violin come together serenely to paint the blue and green of the American West Coast, a picturesque region near and dear to the orange-haired Lay. Her use of strange, abstract lyrics adds an extra layer of mysticism to her already otherworldly music, rendering it effortlessly timeless. This LP will surely cement her in folklore alongside the likes of Sibylle Baier and Vashti Bunyan.
The Lemon Twigs – Brothers of Destruction (2017, 4AD)
Long Island bred fraternal duo Brian and Michael D’Addario have music in their blood and are not afraid of flaunting it. Coming off a tremendous debut record, the Jonathan Rado-produced Do Hollywood, their most recent effort, a short, six track EP, acts as a cohesive follow-up. Though the EP does little to elaborate on the sound established by the teenagers on their Rado-produced joint, it shows the band toying with subtler songwriting. Ditching the exuberant melodic switches of their debut LP gives the album a sound very much of its own. This increased tenderness doesn’t take away from the group’s kinetic energy, however, as their sound, which blends 70s power-pop melodies with Sgt. Pepper’s-esque excess, sounds just as fresh and loaded with youthful enthusiasm. Slightly rough around the edges, Brothers of Destruction acts as a stellar document of a young group on the verge of finding their footing.
Young Thug & Carnage – Young Martha (2017, YSL/Heavyweight)
On Young Martha, Young Thug and producer Carnage bring out the best in each other—embracing their respective idiosyncrasies with dynamic performances and lean-soaked instrumentals. Young Martha largely serves to expand Thug’s extensive range. In it, he stretches the reaches of his prolific palette, while at the same time, testing some new sonic ground. The elastic synths on “10,000 Slimes” see Thug adjusting the cadence of his staccato flow in real time, hitting vocal inflections that feel sporadic yet precise. Sonically, Young Martha is sheer ear-candy, but the writing draws from the same absurd wordplay Thug has adopted over the last five years. Carnage has relayed that Young Martha will be a series, much in the same vein of Thug’s Slime Season trilogy, culminating in a collaborative album. While not the most striking combination of songs in Thug’s repertoire, if Young Martha is any indication, it’s clear his track record is just winding up.
The singer’s performance made the audience see double—literally
Playing for the first time in Montreal under his new moniker, Nick Murphy, formerly known as Chet Faker, delighted his fans with a riveting concert last Friday. It was a performance that managed to blend his past, subdued records with his new, eclectic persona.
Chet Faker and Nick Murphy may be the same person, but they are two very different beasts. In five short years, Murphy’s sound and name metamorphosed from the moody and sensual tracks of Thinking in Textures to the bass-heavy, electronic tracks of Missing Link. Making a cohesive concert out of an extremely varied discography is no easy feat. But that’s exactly what fans were treated to.
The opening act consisted of techno music from Heathered Pearls and Montreal’s very own Charlotte Cardin. These performances consisted of an unexpected mix of electro and slow, grinding music, respectively. In retrospect, the first part of the show was a very good preview of what was to come.
Murphy started his set with new songs like “Your Time” and “Fear Less,” which were perfect choices to heat up the somewhat unenthusiastic crowd. From there, he moved on with fan favourites “1998” and “Talk is Cheap,” which were greeted with ardent acclamation. Combining his performance finesse with a fervent, on-stage charisma, Murphy, with sweat dripping from his long hair and beard, seemed in complete control.
Despite incorporating a plethora of different sounds, the concert never felt disjointed. The set list was crafted in a way that allowed the crowd and Murphy to breathe during calmer songs and then erupt with energy during the more bombastic pieces. The contrast in sound, which could have tanked the whole show, turned out to be one of its strongest assets.
Unfortunately, the sound quality wasn’t up to par with the performance. Too often, Murphy’s voice was almost impossible to hear because of the overpowering bass of the backing track and synth. This happened mainly during his more recent tracks, as they are typically more vivid in sound. It’s a shame; Murphy’s mellow voice is one his trademarks.
Choosing to drop his stage name and completely revamp his musical style was quite a risky move. Without very dedicated fans, his career could really have taken a hit. But, as two sold-out nights in a row clearly demonstrate, Nick Murphy has a very loyal fanbase.
His latest EP may have been greeted with mixed reception. But, after such a strong performance, hindered only by a few technical snags, the fans can now rest assured: Chet Faker may be gone, but Nick Murphy is here to stay.
Common Holly's new album pays homage to the saddest of folk crooners.
We talked to her about playing live and the joys of botany
I arrived at Quai des Brumes and pulled out my notebook. I didn’t know what to expect. The bar was relatively small, leaving little room between the performer and the audience. Montrealer Brigitte Naggar, also known as Common Holly, had just set up with her band and started to play.
In that small room, Common Holly managed to produce a sprawling and dynamic sound. Smooth and clean guitars complemented the drum and synth textures. Their sound floated somewhere between gentle and raucous, sometimes coalescing when the whole band joined in. Naggar’s vocals, along with the backing vocals, tied the whole sound together.
The performance was great. It had an intimate but huge energy. A few days later, I spoke with Naggar.
Q: First of all, it was a great show Thursday. How do you feel about that performance?
Photo by Mackenzie Lad
A: Yeah, I feel good about it. I think the audience’s response was really nice, and the band sounded good. Actually, we
had played the night before as well, in the same venue, and I got acquainted with the sound guy. He brought a special mic for me the next night for extra clarity, so that was very nice.
Q: One of the things I noticed about the way you played is that, even though it was a small space, it was kind of a large sound. Is that the sound you were going for?
A: I mean, it kind of fluctuates a little bit because I do perform solo and duo as well, so when we have all five people there, it’s definitely a big sound. I think that, in part, reflects some elements of the record that is coming out, because it’s quite produced and there’s a lot going on and there are arrangements and drums.
Q: Now let’s do a little history about you. When did you start playing music?
A: I played piano as a kid for like nine years or so. That was my first foray into music. Then my dad gave me my first guitar lessons when I was 13. I got my first guitar when I was 16. It was supposed to be a surprise, but then [my dad’s] girlfriend at the time called me to say: “So did you get the guitar?” and I was like: “Um, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” [Laughs].
Q: What type of guitar was it?
A: It was acoustic. I actually only started playing electric about a year ago, so I feel pretty new to it still. I’ll occasionally go back to acoustic and be like: “Oh God, I’m so much better at this!” [Laughs]. But I really love playing electric. I think it gives it a bit of that hard edge that I’m looking for.
Photo by Mackenzie Lad
Q: And what music did you start playing? Did you do covers or did you just play around?
A: I started with covers for sure. I was very much like a 16-year-old doing Elliott Smith and Postal Service and Emily Haines covers, that sort of thing. And then I started to write my own music and some really terrible songs on Myspace, and it was very much in my bedroom for myself, super quiet. I think that’s also how I developed a really quiet sound. It was not that I never wanted to be heard at all. I, you know, slowly started to emerge more and more, as people were showing signs of wanting to hear my music. I kind of got over my fear of being heard a little bit.
Q: Were you always comfortable with your voice? Did you just want to sing for yourself?
A: It wasn’t necessarily that I was afraid that my voice wasn’t good enough, but it’s more an aspect of my personality. I have never been a very external kind of person, and it’s something I had to learn to do. And I do quite enjoy it, now that it’s something I do. I do really like it and it continues to be a challenge for me to get out there and perform and be expressive, because I definitely feel introverted.
Q: Are you anxious before a performance?
A: Less so these days. I think it’s because it’s becoming more habitual, but I just get a little nervous stomach, a little stomach ache. [Laughs].
Photo by Mackenzie Lad
Q: So, how did you get your stage name, Common Holly?
A: I started in a brainstorm circle with a group of my friends. We were looking for imagery that reflected the sound of the music, and we decided that plants and botanical imagery suited it best. So I did some research into plants. When I came upon common holly, I really liked the idea of this very understated, general plant. But it’s also a plant that blooms in the winter, and it has these lovely red berries. It’s a plant that has cultural and religious significance as well, which I liked—I studied religion at McGill, so it’s always been something that has been fascinating for me. And also a plant with dark, spiky leaves, so I think I liked that juxtaposition of pretty and understated, but also with a stark undercurrent, a little bit sharp.
Q: Are you touring to promote your new album?
A: I have a couple of tours in the works, nothing officially announced yet. I know I’ll be touring the first week of November, and I’ll be doing a little bit at the end of October.
Common Holly’s first album, Playing House, was released Sept. 25.
The city’s game developers compose music that feels retro yet futuristic
Montreal has an abundance of video game developers who have created huge franchises, like Assassin’s Creed, and small, independent games, like The Shrouded Isle (2017) and SuperHyperCube (2016). The soundtracks of these games are outstanding, perfectly reflecting Montreal’s unique identity—vibrant and eclectic. The music ranges from cyberpunk synth to whimsical orchestration and retro-inspired beats.
Deus Ex: Human Revolution (2011), by Eidos Montreal, depicts a dark, neon-lit world polarized by augmented humans programed to wield special abilities. The game is set in the year 2027 in Detroit—home to a new technological boom—and the orange-tinted streets of Singapore. Michael McCann’s soundtrack further enriches the cyberpunk world of Deus Ex.
McCann balances high-octane tracks, like “Everybody Lies,” and moody, atmospheric pieces, like “Detroit City Ambient.” Tension is created during strategic combat sequences, which are amplified by the game’s clever use of music. Although the soundtrack takes inspiration from Vangelis’ Blade Runner (1982) soundtrack, as a lot of sci-fi media does, the world of Deus Ex is dramatically augmented by McCann’s stellar music.
Several years ago, French developer Ubisoft released a succession of experimental and artsy games, starting with Rayman Origins (2010). Out of that initiative, Ubisoft Montreal’s Child of Light (2014) was born. Hand-drawn, impressionistic art brought the game’s fantasy world to life. A palpable difference from the formulaic fare of other Ubisoft creations could be felt throughout the game, which was a decidedly new direction for the developers. It was a distinct change from the high-budget games Ubisoft is known for, like the Watch Dogs series. The soundtrack was no different.
Composer Cœur de pirate, a Montreal-based singer-songwriter, melded melody with whimsy, which can be heard on the track “Aurora’s Theme.” The song features lush cello instrumentation and a gorgeous piano sound. Unlike other Ubisoft games, Child of Light’s soundtrack is more subdued and has the ability to create transcendent moments for players.
Montreal indie developer Polytron released its hit game, Fez, in 2012. The game fell somewhere between retro and modern. The developers created a bright and colourful world, reminiscent of games made in the 90s. And yet, the game pushed the aesthetics and gameplay into territories that would never have been possible in that era. Navigating the world of Fez requires curiosity, a motivation to explore and the ability to think spatially in order to solve complex puzzles. Composer Disasterpeace also straddled the line between retro and classic.
The soundtrack was composed of familiar chiptune sounds—the crunchy electronic synths found in older games—but with a modern twist. For example, the track “Compass” fuses wavy electronic synths with a rhythm typically heard in classic games. “Majesty” features a chiptune melody combined with ambient synth pads and a drum machine—a sound so familiar yet so mystifying. The soundtrack felt inventive, yet it gave the game a warm sense of nostalgia.
Ubisoft Montreal’s Watch Dogs 2 is a game about hacking, dismantling big tech corporations and revealing the corruption of these conglomerates. The game is set in San Francisco, home to Silicon Valley and hundreds of startup tech businesses. A CTOS (Central operating system) controls the city and its inhabitants. The developers satirically portrayed the culture of Silicon Valley, skewering the pretensions of the corporate higher-ups. Despite how mediocre the game turned out, the soundtrack was phenomenal.
Composed by producer and DJ Hudson Mohawke, the music was influenced by contemporary electronic music. Mohawke used sampling, synths and a drum machine to produce a danceable and exciting soundtrack. “The Motherload” features distorted synth beats and an off-kilter drum sound, accompanied by a choir and handclaps. While the track “Cyber Driver” could have been a Run the Jewels beat, it harnesses a lovely synth sound that reminds me of the opening Playstation tune. This is one case where the music is definitely superior to the game.
Music is an essential part of the way people experience games. The more inventive composers get, the more memorable the soundtrack becomes. The aforementioned games took on a unique approach to music, showcasing the ways sound can affect the whole vibe of a game. And each of them exemplified the spirit of Montreal—a city caught between two cultures, a city of awe-inspiring art and architecture and a city that integrates old and new.
Ariel Pink – Dedicated To Bobby Jameson (2017, Mexican Summer)
Ariel Pink’s new album is dedicated to Bobby Jameson, an outlandish 60s pop figure who released music under strange disguises to trick consumers into thinking he was a freshly-emerging talent. Pink works under a similar artistic concept, forming a pseudonym that complements the warped demeanor of his music. Dedicated to Bobby Jameson is Pink’s sharpest, most profound effort in years, and manages to conserve the inherent charisma that kept his intentionally unappealing persona so enticing. The record’s intimate ambience channels David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust—a cautionary anecdote about wasted potential, materialized through gothic pop songs about the bitter trappings of fame. After the glam-infused glitter-bomb that was his last album, Pom Pom—an album teeming with infomercial jingles, millennial-obsessed balladry and a healthy appreciation for 80s VCR culture—Bobby Jameson feels like an artist retreating from the pains of everyday life, waiting to emerge anew.
Four years since their last album release, indie-rock band The National is back with their seventh and most progressive album yet, Sleep Well Beast. While there are tinges of optimism weaved throughout much of the tracks, The National stays true to its signature gloomy vibe, due in part to lead singer Matt Berninger’s smooth, baritone voice. Aside from the group’s usual use of sleek guitar riffs and steady drum beats, Sleep Well Beast dabbles in electronic experimentation, adding to Berninger’s despairing lyrics of fear and anxiety. “I’ll Still Destroy You” explores much of this new electronic sound, while “Day I Die” displays the uncompromising nature of the band. The complexity and cutting honesty flowing from the LP creates a stone-cold yet soulful concoction of pleads and hopes for the future.
Trial Track: “The System Only Dreams in Total Darkness”
LCD Soundsystem – American Dream (2017, DFA Records/Columbia)
LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy entered the indie-rock pantheon 15 years ago with “Losing My Edge,” a song that both mocked and heralded the ephemerality of underground music. When Murphy decided to retire the project in 2011, he promised to never make a new LCD album again. But as much as the band’s great album, American Dream, breathes new life into the championed indie veterans, it’s an effort marked by lost opportunities and stringent self-rumination. For a project that essentially started as an ironic caricature of indie-rock’s propensity for ego-stroking, Murphy’s trajectory feels unassured. His formula remains unaltered, combining an affinity for synths with the potent dance-punk sounds of the 70s and 80s. It’s the sound of tradition stricken by trouble and confusion—a critique of the American dream itself. Like his debut, “Losing My Edge,” much of American Dream’s 70 minutes feel plagued by the persisting disappearance of history. Only now, it has become more and more prevalent to Murphy.
