The Sound of Year End II.

It's not only time for fat men in red suits to make lists and check them twice - it is, after all, that time again for year-end posts. For the record, while my ears unwrapped a lot of extremely enjoyable music in 2007, very few complete albums really stood out for me, unlike last year. As such, I'm going to list my 15 favourite songs I came across in 2007 (whether they were issued then or not), in no particular order (album name in parentheses). You know, the ones that, at one point or another, were on constant repeat. Digital waxy goodness available here. Drum roll, please:

Beirut: A Sunday Smile (The Flying Club Cup). For me, 2007 was about all things Zach Condon, meaning Beirut and his previous bands, The Real People and 1971. From Gulag Orkestar to the Lon Gisland and Elephant Gun EPs, to The Flying Club Cup, who knew European gypsy music could be so infectious?

Beirut: Elephant Gun (Elephant Gun EP). Yes, more Beirut, this time from the aforementioned Elephant Gun EP. Bring on the brass section. Condon was rather prolific in 2007, issuing two EPs and a full-length album on the footsteps of Gulag Orkestar's acclaim. 'Strike while the iron's hot,' they say.

Basia Bulat: Snakes & Ladders (Oh, My Darling). Canadian content alert! Not only that, Bulat is a Master's student at The University of Western Ontario, working out of London and Toronto. It's a shame the album was released in the UK prior to Canada earlier this year, but it's one of the year's best.

Feist: My Moon My Man (The Reminder). Seemingly trying to re-introduce sequined jumpsuits to the collective consciousness, sometime Broken Social Scener Leslie Feist hit the mainstream with her catchy (and well-choreographed) videos. This one was used in an infectious commercial for the iPod Touch.

Fionn Regan: Put a Penny in the Slot (The End of History). Sure, this ultra-witty song has a really catchy chorus and a reference to Saul Bellow, but really, Regan had me at the lyric that mentioned a Rhodesian Ridgeback. Seriously, how many musicians would be ingenious enough to come up with that one?

Nicole Atkins: The Way it Is (Neptune City). One aural taste of Atkins' debut EP Bleeding Diamonds made the New Jersyan's first full-length a hotly anticipated release this year. Not to be confused with the diet, Atkins' voice is full and rich, haunting and enchanting.

Blair: Mona Lisa (Pluto). New Orleans-based Blair gave her EP the name Pluto as a metaphor for the impact hurricane Katrina had on the city, comparing it to the scientific community's decision to delist Pluto as a planet, saying: "Something is one way all your life, then all of a sudden, it totally changes."

Interpol: There's No I in Threesome (Our Love to Admire). Sure, the title reaches out and grabs you, but so does the hook. Popular opinion is that Interpol has been unable to recapture past glories of Turn Off the Bright Lights and Antics, but I'd say this album has more high points than not. Or, at least three.

Stars: Bitches of Tokyo (In Our Bedroom After the War). Given my love for Stars, I had looked forward to the release of this album with great anticipation, but haven't found that it has lived up to my expectations thus far. Except for this track, which has made me dance around once or twice this year.

Kate Nash: Foundations (Made of Bricks). "Dear God, I hope I'm not stuck with this one," Nash sings of a dysfunctional relationship she's holding on to by her fingernails. Comparisons to Lily Allen are obvious, but Nash brings a deeper sensibility to her songs and a dry wit that often counters the bouncing tunes.

Voxtrot: Real Life Version (Self-Titled). Another band that has achieved critical acclaim on the backs of several EPs and much love in the blogosphere, this is Voxtrot's first full-length album. While I'm not sure the LP hit all the high notes the EPs did, the band continues to craft beautiful pop songs.

Miracle Fortress: This Thing About You (Five Roses). Nominated for Canada's Polaris Prize last year, Miracle Fortress is essentially the work of Montreal-based Graham Van Pelt (who isn't coming out of Montreal these days?) Sunny and whirling, this is easily my favourite track on the album.

Lily Allen: Nan, You're a Window Shopper (Alright, Still - B-Sides). Sure, she's a bit of a brat and a self-admitted alcoholic, but the cheeky Allen can churn out some sunny pop tunes. Somewhat of a guilty pleasure, a number of Allen's songs wormed their way into my consciousness, but ended up being overplayed.

Maritime: Parade of Punk Rock T-Shirts (We, the Vehicles). Fine, this song (2006) is not from this year (Heresy & the Hotel Choir is), but it introduced me to the band that rose from the ashes of The Promise Ring and The Dismemberment Plan. Infectious and catchy, but hardly punk rock.

Eleni Mandell: Girls (Miracle of Five). "Do you still cry about girls you wanted?" Mandell softly croons to a soft-strumming guitar. No, no tears. While I can't say I'm much of a fan of her other work, this was a delightfully pleasant track that made its way into rotation for me this summer.

Upon hitting "Publish Post", I know some other song will likely vie for Top 15 honours in my head, but that's just the way it is. There were too many good songs to list, so I stuck with the ones that made me keep hitting repeat in 2007. Your faves? Hit the Comments section.

No Lakes, Nor Swimmers, But Great.

With tremendous anticipation, I went to see Great Lake Swimmers last night at Aeolian Hall, an intimate setting with excellent acoustics and a pleasant ambience, replete with an older gentleman volunteer handing out ballots for the evening’s door prize. Can’t say I’ve been to many rock (okay, folk) concerts offering door prizes. Aeolian Hall is also where GLS recorded their latest album, Ongiara.

Meeting a number of friends, the evening started off with a pleasant surprise as the first of the evening’s three bands, ohbijou, threatened to steal all the thunder. Well, as much thunder as a seven-piece band decked out with cellos, banjos, glockenspiels and the odd melodica can muster, anyway. Ooh, and a tiny xylophone. Okay, it wasn’t that much of a barn dance – the audience seemed spellbound, likely in part out of surprise, at the beauty of the performance. They alone were worth the $10 admission. ohbijou's debut album, Swift Feet for Troubling Times, is a spectacularly packaged (and individually numbered) ensemble produced using letterpress and salvaged engravings. But it’s the music that’s most highly recommended.

I had also been looking forward to the evening’s second act, the Two Minute Miracles, in part because their memorable song, Rayon Queen in a Nylon Dream. To me though, they fell a little flat, but gathered strength as the set progressed. Both in style, and in performance, they just didn’t measure up to the evening’s other two acts.

No ifs ands or buts, though, everyone was there to see the spellbinding Tony Dekker and Great Lake Swimmers. Generally, it’s nice to have live performances vary from the performance given on an album, but as Ongiara was recorded in the same room, it was almost haunting to hear the performance duplicated. It was crisp and polished. And beautiful. Stepping between the band’s three full-lengths, Dekker et al. played most of the favourites, including some solo, though a notable absence was merge a vessel, a harbour (a shout-out to Joyce, who took my camera to a better vantage point and provided the shots found here).

A real treat was having Basia Bulat join GLS on stage to perform four songs. Bulat, a recent musical obsession of mine, has been opening for the band on their recent tour, so I found it surprising she wasn’t on the bill for her hometown show. Such a talent. She came out and sang accompaniment, which added another dimension to Dekker’s voice. A very nice touch.

Oh, and the door prize? My name called out from the stage, leading to pats on the back from those around me. Raised arms and loud hurrahs. The prize? A hippie candle set from a local retailer. It sort of led me to think: “Hey mom, I won you a candle at a rock (okay, folk) concert”. And really, how often do you get to say that?

The Sound of Year End.

Year end: a time when we not only hang our stockings by the fireplace with care (or, lacking both a fireplace and a stocking...), but also a time when we look back on the year that was. Last year was 2003, right? Man, time flies.

In short, many of us get all weepy-eyed and reflective. Or not. In celebration of an annum, which had its share of highs and lows, the attached .rar file will provide you with you a sampling of highlights from the year that was in my headphones. Or earbuds -- whatever the kids are calling them these days. Brings new meaning to the term, "spinning the wax" when referring to music. Enjoy -- unwrap this.

Favorite Albums of 2006 (song titles in brackets):

1. The Greatest: Cat Power ("The Greatest" and "Willie"). Welcome to Chan Marshall, aka Cat Power. I was first introduced to her on a Matador records compilation in the late-nineties and even then, there was something eerily, aurally captivating about her. Then I promptly mostly forgot about her until The Greatest came out this year. Which, smoky and emotive, captured my heart again, likely becoming my favorite album of the year -- cold, brittle jewel case to cold, brittle jewel case.

2. Let's Get out of the Country: Camera Obscura (Let's Get out of the Country). Moving to a more robust sound than on Biggest, Bluest Hi-Fi and Underachievers, Please Try Harder, twee-poppers Camera Obscura came into their own in 2006 with a better-than-solid album from beginning to end. I could have included any number of songs from this album, but this one kept coming back to me this year as a call to travel. So it wins.

3. Begin to Hope: Regina Spektor "Samson". "Apres Moi" was the other song from Begin to Hope over which I could have worn out the click wheel of my iPod this year. If I had an iPod, that is. I found that to be a very powerful song, a contrast to the brilliantly written and softly sung, "Samson", a further stripped-down version of which appeared on Ms. Spektor's earlier album, Songs.

Random Favorite Songs of 2006 (album titles in brackets):

The Shins: "Phantom Limb" (Wincing the Night Away); The Yeah Yeah Yeahs: "Dudley" (Show your Bones); Asobi Seksu: "Thursday" (Citrus); Robert Pollard: "Dancing Girls and Dancing Men" (From a Compound Eye); Silversun Pickups: "Lazy Eye" (Carnavas); Emily Haines: "Our Hell" (Knives Don't Have Your Back); Albert Hammond, jr.: "In Transit" (Yours to Keep); The Long Blondes: Giddy Stratospheres (Someone to Drive you Home); The Decemberists: "Yankee Bayonet (I will be home then)" (The Crane Wife); Voxtrot: "The Start of Something" (Voxtrot EP); The Great Lake Swimmers: Various Stages (Bodies and Minds).

Other new music spinning out of control like Lindsay Lohan: Metric, Rogue Wave, Band of Horses, Midlake, My Brightest Diamond and Beirut.

To all: a Merry Christmas (or whichever holiday you celebrate) and best wishes for a tremendous -- brace yourself, now -- 2007.

More Hullabalooza.

A number of great signs pointed us, cajoled us, pleaded us and directed us throughout the weekend. This one, in Wakefield, made me chuckle. I also want to "Attain Joyful Fluency". As opposed to the painful bilingualism I grace now. "Master tense situations"? Doesn't matter what language, that's a great skill to have in your back pocket ("I'm a teepee, I'm a wigwam"; "No, you're too tense"). Another sign I found to be quintessentially Quebecois advertised condominiums. In French, it pointed out that Gatineau was only 25 kilometres away. And in English, it blared out that Ottawa was only 30 away. Well, it is always said that you need to "Know your audience". But it was still funny to me. The sign of the weekend, however, must go to the store along the road (alas, no photo) that sells "Second-hand candles". I'm not kidding. Really, are they in bulk? Are they still liquid, or still smoking (somebody might be)? Are the colours all molded together in one gelatinous blob? Are wicks included? Tough to wax poetic about that one. By the way, a quick Google search for "second-hand candles" results in 1,280,000 hits. And strangely, for the Internet, no porn. Or ear candling.

During a peaceful walk gone amok on Saturday, SCS lost her wallet after the reception, but prior to the evening party. A wee panic ensued. Luckily enough, a retired police officer found it and tried to track her down, visiting local restaurants and businesses. He even called her parents. I'm guessing he worded it carefully, rather than say "Hey, I found your daughter's wallet along the railroad tracks beside the lake...but there's no sign of her". Not good. They told him that we had rented a car from Enterprise, which I had happened to park nose first (showing the logo sticker on the back) after heading to the mill in my new role as Sherlock Holmes. As he came to the door at the Bed and Breakfast, his phone rang. SCS had gone into the Pot au Feu restaurant (free plug because of your kindness) and one of the staff passed her a piece of paper. On it, her name and a phone number to call. I'd have been jealous and all, but you know. I am sure it is strange to see your name in a random and unexpected situation like that.

Anyway, it all worked out and we headed to the 'Bal en Blanc', where we were to wear all white, hence the name. A little skeptical at first, but it really worked out. Even after Labour Day. Neat. Even the decor was white, with sheets hung. And I can no longer say I've never had a man sporting a fluffy, black boa jump into my arms. No, I'm not going to post the picture. All in all, a good time, for sure.

Sunday, we had a little more time for relaxing and went hiking in the hills and over to the covered bridge. It was an absolutely spectacular morning, with blue sky and fluffy clouds. Air crisp like a potato chip. It just smelled and tasted good. Tickling the skin and tempting the nose. Along the way, we saw a flash of red fly by and saw a woodpecker take up in one of the trees nearby (above right). I hadn't seen such a big pecker before. Oh, let's re-write that one. Quite a weekend for birds as I had also seen my first wild bald eagle on Friday, flying gracefully over the Thames river.

All in all, it was a really good trip. I love hitting the road and seeing new things and new places. It didn't hurt that we were in a very pretty spot in which I could actually picture myself living if only there were appropriate work there. Oh, that work thing. Details, details. On the way back, we also hit the Hershey's factory in Smith's Falls (what, no damaged peanut butter cups in bulk? Shame, shame!) and Ikea in Burlington. We've kind of been jonesing for Ikea for a while and really, it's tough to come out of there without having bought something. Fall-smelly candles and tea light holder (oooh, that just reeks of manliness, doesn't it!) and some brushed steel tins (that's better) for me. The great book case dilemma for SCS, though she also couldn't resist coming away with some goods. Whoever says money doesn't help obviously doesn't have any. It makes the world go around, unfortunately.

Sunday night was spent in Toronto. A shout-out is in order to Connor, who hosted us (his parents might temper that a bit). He is, afterall, in the vernacular of SCS, "Fresh Human". And an adorable one at that.

1,470 total kms. Yawn.

The ever-so-imporant road trip music: Cat Power: The Greatest;Swing Kids OST; Great Lake Swimmers: Great Lake Swimmers; Sarah Harmer: You are Here; Band of Horses: Everything All the Time; Coldplay: Live 2003; Hayden: Elk Lake Serenade; Midlake: The Trials of Van Occupanther; Emily Haines: Kives Don't Have Your Back; Acid House Kings: Sing Along with the Acid House Kings; Voxtrot: Mothers, Sisters, Daughters & Wives; Sarah McLachlan: Fumbling Toward Ecstacy; Sarah Harmer: I am a Mountain; Kathleen Edwards: Failer; REM: Green; The Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs; REM: Out of Time.

Emily Haines. So, low.

Emily Haines, of the oft-cited Canadian alternative bands Metric and Broken Social Scene, hits us with her new solo album, Knives Don't Have Your Back. Piano = a good thing. A little more mellow than Metric's latest offering. Our Hell is, thus far, one of my favorite tracks of the year. Hands down.

Knives Don't Have Your Back

Day Three. Home Sweet Home.

And, he's back. Good golly, we return to Michigan today, where they like them some churches, mighty fine. Halleluiah!

The day started off well, with a complete – and most importantly – included, hot breakfast, Super 8-style. Make-your-own waffles, cereal, doughnuts, some sort of chopped sausage grits/porridge concoction I didn’t touch. And coffee. The orange juice was skunky, so it got tossed. Not a bad start, particularly after the lack of real food yesterday. Up at 6:54, I am still completely knackered. My throat is scratchy. And not in the sexy way. The trip started to catch up with me last night, but I really didn’t want to ply myself from the covers this morning. Well, I should have crawled under them earlier. Sigh. Such a dummy. Having started at the crack of darkness on Tuesday didn’t help either. Really.

On the road at 7:34 – not too bad a turnaround time despite the fog in my brain. One sign that it’s going to be a good day, though: the warning at the entrance to the highway states that it is not to be used by “farm implements”. Brings back fond memories of one of my former history professors who would always sprinkle his lectures with the term because he knew it would make us all laugh. Absurd, really. Another good sign: it’s clear and 20 degrees. Starting at 2,078.7 kms. today.

7:44: Big Bone Lick State Park. No comment. It’s too early, dammit. And I’m dumb today. Just past this, and outside Cincinnati, though, a giant traffic snarl lights up like an LED board. Signs warn of 10-15 minute delays. I remind myself of the perils of cat naps during that stretch. Then stretch and yawn. Where’s that coffee again? Gone. Damn my inability to drink more slowly. Sigh (number two).
What’s Playing: The Organ, Grab that Gun

8:13: Cincinnati! Finally, free from the clutches of the hordes. Traffic jam, be gone.

8:34: 2,170.9 kms. It’s grey out, but at least it's not raining.
What’s Playing: Man on the Moon, OST

8:57: West Carrolton, OH for more gas. Looks like a ritzier neighborhood. Whoops, maybe not the best place to choose for gas. It just struck me that I’m so used to not going to generic gas stations that I have stuck with the majors to fill the rental car. Hmm. $2.479 a gallon for a total of $26.48. According to news reports last night, fuel is cheaper across the US than it has been in a year and it is anticipated that gas prices will be down to $2.00 a gallon by Thanksgiving. Depends if their President starts another war somewhere. Sorry, my little yellow ribbon must have peeled off. I can support the troops just fine, thanks – I just don’t support that government. There is a very BIG difference. But these people carry guns, so I’ll keep my trap shut. Big trap. Big guns. Closed.
What’s Playing: Lauryn Hill, The Miseducation of

9:34: 2,272.7 kms.
What’s Playing: Alanis Morissette, Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie

10:34: 2,383.7 kms.
What’s Playing: The Tragically Hip, Day for Night

11:23: Michigan!

11:29: Monroe, Michigan, here we come. Alright, one more stop for the road trip. The last hurrah. The big finale (have I built up the anticipation yet?). Jerky!

Uh, Santa lives there, right? How exactly do I get into a career in Jerky? I’m sure Guelph offers a degree in it.

Anytime a man wearing an apron -- and surrounded by various cured meats -- approaches with shears, do not fret. Smile broadly. Samples! Teriyaki Beef. Smoked Beef (sorry, drooling on the keyboard). Some other kind I cannot remember, though if I search far enough back into my molars, I might find some stringy remnants. Mmm, remnants. Jerky = yum. Especially on road trips. Too bad this one is almost over.

Anyway, paper bags full of jerky and I’m a happy man. In the absence of other exciting photo opp’s today, we’re going to embark on the journey called “Jerky over Michigan”. Replete with reviews. In depth reviews. Some might even say, “meaty”. Others stick to “dry”. Those ones are usually being jerky.

Beer flavoured beef. Spicy. Okay, I get it – tough to go too far astray with this one: Give man meat. Give man beer. Man be happy. A club, too? Over the moon.

11:34: 2,484.9 kms. Last stop? For real this time? Michigan Welcome Centre in Monroe. There’s the coffee again. And empty the car of garbage acquired in six states and one province over three days. But really, I just wanted to add to my map collection. I just got back into the car and wow, does it smell strongly of dried meats. Mmm, dried meats…Sorry, I just lost more time, opening and closing the door. Wafts are so good. But such a tease. Need more meat. Did I mention there’s jerky? Jerky, we’re close, you know.

Try the garlic beef, you say? Why, mighty nice of you to ask. Barkley was feeling left out and wanted to try some, too (I don't even want to see the cat gut after that one). This was surprisingly bland until 5-6 hours later. Just ask anyone I talked to. Except the jerky, he’s gone (hey, it was a lonely car). That conversation went like this: “Am I shaped like a state you just left?” “Not yet,” I replied. Then it became Rhode Island, which was subsequently sucked into the dark, gurgling ocean.
What’s Playing: Travis, The Man Who

12:20: Detroit! (Sorry Paul, “The D”).

12:28: Canada!*
(*Caveat: Well, we’re at the midpoint of the Ambassador Bridge, so they haven’t technically let me into the country yet. But the Russian judge ruled in my favor on this one.)

12:34: 2,555.8 kms.

My favorite jerky of the day was the honey garlic pork. Ever so slight a zip. Tender. I don’t want to pig out because I’m bac-on track to get home. It was smooth. Like butter. Very chewy butter. At least it looks like a maple leaf for going across the border (that’s what they’d say at Ruby Falls, anyway).

12:36: SCS wins the bet (she had wagered that I had a 42 per cent chance of getting stopped at the border, I had wagered 74 per cent). I whizzed through without any difficulty this time. I think the ever-so serious agent even raised the corner of her lip the slightest bit when I replied to her query about items to declare: “…right at $100 worth of apparel, including a pair of shoes…and some jerky.” A micro-smile at best, but I know she wanted some. I was just glad that she didn’t ask where I had been; I’ve had a mental block about remembering “Huntsville” all week, for whatever the reason.

Welcome to Canada! Windsor! Eek. 24 degrees and sunny. Finally make it to the good ol’ 401 eleven minutes later.
What’s Playing: Split CD: Wolf Parade, Apologies to the Queen Mary and EPs

13:34: 2,652.7 kms.
What’s Playing: Split CD: Regina Spektor: Soviet Kitsch and Begin to Hope

14:20: London! Grr. Welcome back to the city’s horribly mistimed lights. All red. And I’m so close I can taste it. Or maybe that’s just the jerky.

14:34: 2,749.4 kms.

14:38: Gas for the last time. 89.7, which is still cheaper than I’ve seen it in quite a while around here, for a total of $34.77. Drivin’ isn’t cheap.

14:43: HOME!!! (Yes, that one deserves triple exclamation marks). Total trip kilometers: 2,751.7. 35 hours and 28 minutes of tooling around time. Two bags of Crispers. Two Granny Smith Apples. A bag of Licorice. Most of two boxes of granola bars. Two 2L bottles of pop and a litre of water. A bag of Skor bites. And jerky, sweet jerky. Where would I be without you? Um, here.
And yes thanks, I am as tired as I look. But it was worth it.