[This is my entry in the "Quid Pro Quo" W/O, the rules of which state that "when any unicycle-riding Glenn Gould-loving Top Reviewer in Music deigns to write a movie review, every sunglasses-wearing Wes Anderson-loving Top Reviewer in Movies must then write a music review… and vice versa. You can cobble together the complete rules by reading here and here.]
Sloan, a jangly alterna-pop quartet from Halifax, are like a nineties version of the Beatles. Only this time, the bassist wears the glasses and indulges in absurd wordplay, the drummer is possibly the best (if least prolific) songwriter, the rhythm guitarist is the funny looking one, and the lead guitarist is still the shy one. Mix in a bundle of well-placed "la la la's" and a touch of the Haligonian world-view, and you've got my favourite Canadian band. The boys (Chris Murphy: bass, red jacket with glasses, front and centre in the album photo above; Patrick Pentland: lead guitars, peroxide hair and glasses, stage left; Jay Ferguson: rhythm guitars, yellow shirt with pouty lips, stage right; Andrew Scott: drums, hand on chin, rear) have turned in a masterpiece, 12-songs and 45-minutes of pure pop perfection. And now it's time for their grades.
The four-headed Sloan songwriting monster would later even itself out, allowing each member an equal share of each album. But in Sloan's early days ("Twice Removed" being their second major label effort), Murphy handled the majority of the songwriting duties.
Which is fine by me, cause his tunes tickle my funny bone while grasping around for my heart. 'Penpals', which kicks off the jams with gusto, builds on a chunky groove until the Public Enemy-style guitar sirens in the pre-chorus. Murphy's lyrics, which he cobbled together from actual letters he received from actual overseas fans, sound endearing rather than mocking ("I am a Norwegian boy which have some question / I have only 13 years and I am crazy of you / … / You are surely special / I like you, I like you").
'Coax Me', the album's biggest hit single (okay, it was a Canadian hit; that counts, doesn't it?), features some sprightly arpeggiated chords from Jay, combined with Patrick's chunky, bottom-end guitar riffs. Their work together creates a dynamic that keeps the song, a relatively simple two-chord ditty, fresh and lively. Murphy's lyrics, on the other hand, aim for (and hit) his trademark mix of absurd wordplay and visceral melancholy. The opening verse finds the narrator at a funeral, watching a "widow speak on her fortune". Later, looking for answers, he sees "a widow's peak on her forehead". The chorus calls for comfort and understanding and simple human affection, by simply chanting, "Coax me, cajole me" over and over, while the bridge is soaked with loss and regret, delivered in a paralyzing falsetto.
'Bells On' follows 'Coax Me' on the album, and tackles many of the same themes. "While I'm at this funeral / You're in New York," it begins, slowly and languidly. Then, things take a turn for the worse. "I've been dividing my grieving / You're sleeping with a mutual friend". It's another tune about loss; only I can't tell if it’s the loss of a lover whose mind is elsewhere ("I'm thinking about you / You're thinking about New York / … / If I had a funeral / Would you even care? / Would you lie upon my grave? / And be there with bells on?" he asks, cynically), or the loss of an aborted child ("Will you pay back the thirty dollars / That he thinks I owe him?"). Either way, it's powerful and touching, featuring an exploding chorus of "La la la's" that barely cover the hurt.
'Shame Shame' is built around a lonesome bassline and a single-strummed chord, which open the tune mysteriously. Its lyrics borrow from a book by Halifax writer Laura Borealis ("Dames Dames"; another book, "Inherit the Median Strip", inspired the song 'Median Strip' from Sloan's first album, "Smeared").
But it's Murphy's 'Deeper Than Beauty' that hits me hardest of all. It's a two-and-a-half minute snort of smart-alecky wordplay and teenage romanticism. Backed by nothing more than his workmanlike guitaring and Scott's drums (a setup it shares with the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion and the White Stripes; only not as rough and ragged), Murphy weaves a tale about an intense teenage beauty who uses her good lucks to make all of those around her better. Only she picks her spots. "I've seen you with your hair down at least five times," Murphy sings, "And always wondered / what makes a man commit crimes? / But even I would sometimes / If it weren't for the likes of you". Eventually, the adolescent narrator realizes how inferior he is to this Greek goddess, and how deep under her spell he is: "I'm like the rest of them with our thumbs up our asses / If you call I will come but I'm about as quick as molasses / When I dream of you you're not wearing your glasses". Another chorus of "La la la's" (Murphy seems to love this lyric best) ends the song on a giddy note.
[Tangent: Would you believe that, even though I've listened to this song a thousand times, it was only recently that I caught Chris, in the middle of the line "And your glasses, your hideous glasses", letting out a barely audible chuckle? It just goes to show how multi-layered this album is… or how dense I can be.]
Drummer Scott, who would bust out 2 albums later on Sloan's Kiss-loving masterwork, "Navy Blues", contributes two tunes here. Legend has it that Murphy helped him polish his pieces; as a reward, Chris contributes effective backup vocals to enhance each song.
'People of the Sky' showcases Sloan's musicianship, as Andrew takes lead vocals and guitar duties, Jay handles the bass, and Murphy goes Animal all over the drumkit (the video, a slacker version of "A Midsummer Night's Dream", plays off this fact; it features the boys going rock-paper-scissors to see who gets to sit behind the skins). The song begins as a lo-fi demo, before the band chimes in. The lyrics, a nearly inexplicable collection of images and symbols, touches on themes as profound as beauty, the soul, spirituality, eternity, and death. Oh, and there's also a healthy does of "ba ba bada baaaaa's" in the chorus. Go figure, eh? The song ends with a minute-long rave out coda, which features some dissonant bent guitar notes and a bunch of noise-tastic riffing.
Andrew's second song, 'Before I Do', is one of the collection's disappointments. A 7-minute deluge near the album's end, it feature a 3+-minute long coda (with talky lyrics, kept deep in the mix, that for the life of me I can't figure out), that indulges in the kind of Sonic Youth-inspired shenanigans which threatened to envelop "Smeared". The rest of the song is mostly an exercise in dynamics, with the drums, guitars, bass, etc., periodically drifting in and out of the mix.
Guitarist Ferguson, like Murphy, tends to indulge in pure adolescent fantasies in his songs. Which makes their duet on the album's second track, 'I Hate My Generation', quite apt. "What could you both possibly share?" asks Jay. "Other than the colour of your hair?" counters Chris. Then both conclude with, "Sean said, 'We both play guitar'" (later, in the bridge, the boys do a Bay City Rollers impression, chanting "S-E-A-N S-A-I-D P-L-A-Y yeah yeah yeah yeah!"; I'm still trying to figure out who the heck Sean is… not that it really matters). Despite the apocalyptic-sounding title, 'I Hate My Generation' indulges in none of the grunge-nihilism that was so prevalent when the album was released in 1994. It's a rather happy-go-lucky tune, which makes me think the whole message is meant to be ironic.
When left to his own devices, however, Jay aims for a little younger demographic. 'Snowsuit Sound' is a story from those bygone days when "Pushed off of the silver swings / I got my braces full of sand," was every young boy's nightmare, while "When all I ever wanted to do / Was hold on to your hand," was every young boy's fantasy. Harsh guitars, a slithery bassline, and some nifty popgun drumming lay the framework for Jay's beautiful melodies, before a Wall of Sound arrangement makes mincemeat of the chorus. Patrick contributes an excellent guitar solo, one of the few to be found on the record.
Patrick's songwriting, which would later rival Murphy in abundance, if not necessarily in quality, comes up short here. And though he's still just learning his craft, you can see the seeds of his later efforts. 'Loosens' is a slow starter, that amounts to little more than five minutes of Patrick whining. Sprinkled throughout is some tasteful guitar work, and some beautiful harmonies, but overall the song is ultimately soporific. A more editorially-minded producer would have cut it down drastically. Jim Rondinelli, who produced the album along with Sloan, does some fine work capturing the band's sound, but he lets them get away with too much wanking. A crime that later producers (Brendan McGuire manned the boards several times) wouldn't be so quick to commit.
'Worried Now' is the kind of song Patrick would later excel at: it's a typical pop song with a verse-verse-chorus structure and a giddy guitar hook. His lyrical sense, also later to improve, shows signs of strength even this early on. A quatrain such as, "I think I've lost my sense of humour / 'Cause I can't seem to get a laugh / I keep forgetting all the punch lines / And I can't make them up that fast", while colouring Patrick as a bit of a self-indulgent navel-gazer, fits in well with the song's overall mood.
The final song on the album finds Patrick dueting with Jennifer Pierce, from the band Jale. Jale and Sloan, both from Nova Scotia, were each picked up by Sub Pop in a mid-nineties grunge-era feeding frenzy, when Nova Scotia was supposed to become the new Seattle. Sadly, the East Coasters never achieved world-domination. But what would they do with it if they had? 'I Can Feel It' is loaded with slow and beautiful harmonies, a bouncy and poppy groove, and a guitar hook with a clean, jazzy feel.
"Twice Removed" is, as you can tell, not a perfect record. It isn't even the most perfect Sloan album (that would be 1998's "Navy Blues"). But it is a perfect introduction to the band, forming a bridge between their art-noise days ("Smeared") their pure pop majesty days ("One Chord To Another"), without the thematic angst that nearly ruined their last two records ("Between the Bridges", "Pretty Together"). And dangit, with all those "La la la's", with all those tight hooks and killer melodies, and with Murphy's penchant for nifty turns-of-phrase, it's just so much fun to sing along with.
[Thanks for reading. The other participants in this write-off are:
Epinions.com periodically updates pricing and product information from third-party sources, so some information may be slightly out-of-date. You should confirm all information before relying on it.
- Add to My Yahoo!: 
- Add to Google Homepage: 
© 1999-2009 Shopping.com, Inc.