I have a bias for Canadian bands, and can you blame me? Arcade Fire, The New Pornographers, Metric, The Weakerthans – some of the finest albums made in the past decade can be attributed to musicians north of the border. They have the ability to write clear and concise songs and aren’t muddled by indecision or worry what genre they fall into. Maybe it’s the universal health care – it’s easy to write a good song when you can freely check to see if the mole on your back shoulder is going to kill you.
Wintersleep (of course a band name like that would come from Canada), has been kicking around for 11 years, and developed such a following in its country that it won a Juno Award (it’s the Canadian version of the Grammys but better because the Grammys suck). The quintet, which hails from Nova Scotia, found moderate success with 2010’s New Inheritors and now returns with Hello Hum, an album with some excellent tracks and others which are simply ho-hum.
I wasn’t enthralled from the start, leading track “Hum” is scattered and unfocused, Paul Murphy’s vocals are lost amid the odd buzzes and awkward drum play. Co-producer Dave Fridmann, who works mainly with the Flaming Lips, is trying to replicate the Coyne and Co. sound here but he doesn’t pull it off (only the Flaming Lips can do the Flaming Lips). “In Came The Flood” rights the ship somewhat, a fluid guitar gives the song a structure missing from the previous track.
But after that, the album opens up in smart and surprising ways. “Nothing Is Anything Without You,” with its choruses of oohs and aahs, keeps a steady, inviting riff throughout, Murphy is confident on the mic and not lost in the background. “Resuscitate” maintains a playful verve against a waltz-meets-samba beat, only to open up into a crazy spaceship-sounding deluge in the final minute.
“Permanent Sigh” is the album’s best song – a pedestrian beginning folds into a killer sing-along chorus countered by moments of quiet then loud then quiet. The music rises to a hearty flourish before ending with soft synths and a pleading Murphy, singing in a yearning and delicate voice. Stellar.
The album can’t keep this level of mastery, but there are fine efforts. “Unzipper” has Wintersleep rocking out, as much as a Canadian band can rock out, with a snappy hook that’s all drums, cymbals and grinding guitar. While the fuzziness of Murphy’s voice doesn’t work on some tracks, it gives “Zones” a gritty edge to go along with the distorted guitar.
I can’t place Wintersleep in the pantheon of bands mentioned above, but the band does little to sully Canada’s good name with Hello Hum. A solid record with songs of great potential, Happy Hum confirms my belief that fiery music comes from cold climes.
