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Name any Canadian indie act of late, their sound is probably in here somewhere. High scoring rounds of spot-the-influence aside, the Rural Alberta Advantage drives & shouts & gets giddily garage-gangly.
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Posts by ngtivspace
deathbridge out of town
where i come from
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Joanna Newsom's a deep-roots harpist I appreciate from afar. She's something of a fireworks display over a distant hill: the light's lovely and the sound jarring; the location clear to me, but still out of reach.Though I typically listen and resign to the truth that I'm just not the one she's meant to be with, every now and then, I catch her voice and am so taken by the sweet & thorny vocal that I
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from another day's page
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These mornings - the ones for sweaters, at-home eggs & dishes to be left in the sink - these are the hours for Daniel Martin Moore. A southern songwriter who's more field than farm, he distills the frozen sky to sound, then warms it with his palms.
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got no mind to
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Today, let's be grateful for things we weren't aware we wanted: I didn't know I needed a city that gets cold in a hurry; I couldn't forsee the fortifying powers of loss. You wouldn't have convinced me, with words, that I'd need Eric Bachmann and Neko Case smiling under new wave synth. But here we are.There's dancey Springsteen in here, my god, there's Susanna Hoff in here; it's like pop-ivy creepi
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million ways to die
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She's Norwegian, but that voice is the Smoky Mountains gone ghostly; Ane plucks words and lets them shimmer, channeling Dolly Parton, darkening dulcet tones on a dime.
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even on the wrong days
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Here it is, fall, blown in to mess the map I just now drew. The streets got wet and the light's gone grey, the shade that softens faces but sharpens lines: branch, curb, inter-sect, intro-spect? Let's start over. The autumn fills me with myself but loses me in the woods; now that late light comes early, I know how to look, but not where. Coat & boot & this new knit hat, they're bolder at the borde
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everything i've told you was true
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A clock-measured 2:00AM won't appear longer than neighboring hours; but in practice, it's the one with power to grow, to stretch and loop, ignited by small bad thoughts. It's waker's choice - need to mow the lawn, leave her, tell them all the truth? Sift it through. Gather up records & vices for the dark duration, but be careful when pleading for passage; heed instead this Zopilote Machine warning
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my cleanest dirty shirt
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Those first stretches of morning after a long night, you know them - it's quiet outside, the kind of peaceful that soothes and then turns sad. What I'd give on these days of mine to amble like Kris Kristofferson or Johnny Cash, nursing tobacco stains and a wounded outlaw soul. Me, I wear the boots but skip the beer for lack of mettle.This strained and breaking cover by Phosphorescent seems a salve
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too blind to see
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It was almost just us when Blair went on at 8:30, one girl on a dirty bar stage. Lit from above by flashbulbs that spell "salvation," she says thanks for coming early, I'm going to play a few songs for you and then she does, straightaway. Her voice feels for the pitch, god, I almost cringe just with hope, it's that earnest. A few unsteady notes and she cracks, cracks but then blooms, warm & hol...
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