If we’re comparing pieces of pop culture, and who doesn’t like doing that, then The New Pornographers must be music’s answer to Saturday Night Live. Venerable outfits of talented performers, both feature a collective which accomplish a certain majesty together but whose members are always looking for a way to excel individually on their own terms. Will Ferrell and A.C. Newman, Tina Fey and Neko Case, Adam Sandler and Dan Bejar – all forged identities not tied to their weighty anchors, even though the weighty anchors gave them the chance to do just that.
Kathryn Calder, who came to the Pornographers as a sub for Neko but has remained for a half-dozen years, doesn’t have the star power of her bandmates but has attained a consistency and merit to her work. The release of Bright and Vivid, Calder’s second solo album, shows the Canadian singer trying to establish herself outside the mother ship — and while she has yet to reach Kristen Wiig status, she isn’t slumming with Victoria Jackson.
Calder is clearly at play here, moving through gritty shoegaze, dancey synths, dream pop and quaint folk songs at a brisk clip. The opening “One, Two, Three” is a pile of layered sounds — Wall of Sound drums, acoustic guitar, fuzzy feedback — which is jolted into more traditional territory when Calder’s voice does filter in. It’s an odd choice to begin the album, though, as Calder takes a back seat to the swirling noise around her. I thought the whole idea of a solo album is to push the artist to the forefront.
Sure enough, the synth-laden “Who Are You?” has Calder leading the charge in a song very different than the first (maybe she was transitioning from cast player to lead actor). It’s a strong pop song with a killer hook, handled ably by Calder’s sweet voice.
The album is at its best when Calder is experimenting with landscapes, allowing her voice to meld with tempo at hand. The excellent “All the Things” is a sonic journey, as her Julee Cruise meets Sunny Day in Glasgow groove gives way to soaring guitars, thumping bass and finally a series of electronic ticks. It’s six-minutes long containing three songs in one – and is all weird and wonderful.
The penultimate “Five More Years” is another example of Calder’s mischievous song writing. It’s the album’s catchiest and spookiest track, dominated by eerie strings and rushing water but kept taut by Calder’s bright singing. I returned to it several times to decipher all the fun bits stuck deep in the background.
And maybe that’s the point. Now in the lead, Calder wants you aware of what goes on behind the scenes, since her reason for being here now started with her being back there then.
