We interrupt our regularly scheduled ‘end of year’ programming with this short post, indeed, a little bit of revisionist history.
This has happened occasionally over the many years of counting down my favourite albums of the year. An album comes out late in the year, either just before finishing putting together the list and too late to become terribly familiar with it to allow for serious consideration or as it was in this case, released a full week after I solidified my list and started posting words about it. And I actually suspected that this might happen when I heard the release date for Breeze’s third album “Sour grapes” was being pushed back to December 8th. Of course, now that it’s out and I’ve given it a few spins, I knew it begged special mention before the year was out.
For its first two records, Breeze was basically a solo studio project of Josh Korody, who was once one half of Toronto-based dream pop duo, Beliefs. I have yet to listen to Breeze’s debut, “The record”, but from what I’ve read, it was not too far removed from his work with his other band. The sophomore record, “Only up”, was recorded in only 8 days with a handful of like-minded musicians from other well-known Toronto area bands and received a lot of nods from the music press for its energetic and updated homage to Manchester baggy and Britpop. It reached number four on my own list of best albums for 2021 back in the day.
Since then, Korody has put together a full band to meet the need to be able to perform songs from that sophomore album live. This latest record includes contributions from said band and sees the addition of a bit of 80s post-punk and new wave to the 90s brit pop and baggy sounds. A little bit of Echo & the Bunnymen to the Happy Mondays. If that seems like it might be your thing as much as it is mine, I highly recommend giving this one a go.
I’ll be back in a couple of days returning to our regularly scheduled program, counting down my Best albums of 2023 list. In the meantime, you can check out my Best Albums page here if you’re interested in my other favourite albums lists.
This is now the third year in a row that an album by The Reds, Pinks & Purples has appeared amongst my top ten favourite albums for the year*. And had it not been released so late in the year, their 2020 mini-album, “You might be happy someday”, might have made it four in a row. But that’s not even telling the full story of all the music that Glenn Donaldson has released under this moniker since 2018. To my count, and I’ve probably missed a few, there have been no less than seven albums (plus the aforementioned mini-album), seven EPs, and a handful of singles. And every single bit that I’ve heard has been exceptional. I can’t even remember the last time I had fallen for an artist so quickly that has been so prolific and so consistent. I wholeheartedly admit that I am having a hard time keeping up.
Glenn Donaldson has been making music in around and the San Francisco area for over two decades in various musical projects. He first used the name The Reds, Pinks & Purples for one song on a split 7” single back in 2015 but the project didn’t really get off the ground until three years later and it’s been gangbusters ever since. Donaldson records and performs most of the parts of every song himself, often at home, and sometimes in his kitchen, not that you would know it by how great the records sound.
Much has been made about how this this fifth record, “The town that cursed your name”, is noisier, fuzzier, and punkier than its predecessors, invoking names like The Replacements and Dinosaur Jr. To that point, I can definitely see that parts of it feels a bit more upbeat, but on others, not so much, and the album definitely hasn’t fully departed from the territory of 80s jangle pop that had me hooked me from the start. It is peppy and reverb-drenched and with the exception of one, the twelve tracks all come in around the 2-3 minute mark and the total run time clocks in at just under 34 minutes. Throughout, Donaldson plaintively and romantically sings about the lives and loves of being a struggling musician in San Francisco and in the process, draws us all into his world with his melodic hooks and wistful turn of phrase.
Each song here is worth spending time with and unpacking for closer inspection but my three picks for you could be a great place to start. Have a listen.
“Mistakes (too many to name)“: Track eight is full of guitars so fuzzy that it’s hard to untangle the melody. If it weren’t for the steady and staccato beating up of a tambourine, it would all be one beautiful blob of sound. And then there’s Donaldson channelling Morrissey at his self-deprecating best. “I’ve made every mistake one person can make. How can one person make too many to name?” It’s all about being a nostalgic about a time before all those mistakes, when life was an open field of flowers that one could drown in. And after its two and three quarter minutes, you come up for air and just want to restart and dive deeper for more.
“The town that cursed your name”: The title track is really a thesis and call to arms for the album, ten songs in. One fifth of its two and half minute duration is dedicated to a subtle intro, starting with a quick step drum line and then a pair of guitars takes over, a steady acoustic strum rhythm and a chiming pickup electric. They’re joined by some haunting synths, some fuzz between the verses, and some funky drum flourishes for punctuation. And our protagonist is waxing existential and weaving a tale of musicianship woes, making for a verse worth repeating and singing along to. “It’s a shame your record label failed, too many problems with the mail, to be poor but still overpaid, in the town that cursed your name, and the apartment where you stayed was a living hell.”
“Too late for an early grave”: The opening number paints a miserable picture of the humdrum of working life, punching the clock and knowing that you can be discarded at a moment’s notice, if you slip, fall ill, don’t produce enough widgets. Donaldson cross-references this with the struggles of a musician, the thankless continued work at creation without success. “From the cradle to the grave, we all caved, no one was saved.” It’s a damned good thing he tempers this depressing hopelessness with such peppy and cheerful music. Jangly and full of soul, thumping rhythm and hopeful highs. He is playful and knowing and you feel alive wrapping yourself in this bit of pastel sunlight. But much like everything here on the album, it is but a snapshot, ending too quickly. Mercifully, we have the technology to listen again and thankfully, we know The Reds, Pinks & Purples will be back soon with more great tunes.
*”Summer at land’s end” was at number seven last year and “Uncommon weather” was my favourite album in 2021.
We’ll be back in a few days with album #3. In the meantime, here are the previous albums in this list:
Things are getting real now on this list of my favourite albums of 2023. The number five album comes care of a band that I’d never even heard of three months ago and now I can’t imagine this year without it.
Pale Blue Eyes were formed just a handful of years ago in southwestern England when married couple Lucy and Matt Board met Aubrey Simpson at a music festival. They recorded the bulk of their debut album amidst the lockdowns of the COVID pandemic and it was largely informed by the sudden death of Matt’s father. I have yet to listen to 2022’s “Souvenirs” but I have every intention of rectifying this in the very near future.
“This house” followed that debut by one day short of a year. This album is considered by the group to be the debut’s older and wiser sibling, not just because it benefited from the band’s ability to perform live and hone their craft and that it was recorded with the band together, rather than locked down in separate places. The sophomore record was finished in the shade of another parental death, this time after Matt’s mother had endured a long terminal illness. This was a sustained mourning rather than a bolt of lightning, but this mourning was extended to the ending of many things. The house on the cover, as an example, was the house that frontman Matt grew up in, where both of the band’s first records were recorded, and that needed to be sold, inciting the band’s relocation to another city.
Reading this, one might think that the music would be dour and melancholic, but this is not the case at all. The music is a blend of the various band members’ favourite music and so dream pop, jazz, electropop, and disco all bring an upbeat and hopeful feel to such difficult subject matter. It is 44 minutes of transporting music, songs that stick to your bones and seep into your skin, and make you want to live in the music and let it delay what comes next just a little while longer.
There isn’t one out of the eleven that I dislike but these three picks for you are ones pulled from those near the top of the heap.
“Takes me over“: “Surrounds me, like a living dream.” The first single released off the album nearly closes the album at track 10 of 11, practically the climax before the climax. It begins with a driving bass line that might be pulled from Peter Hook’s playbook and then the drums take over and we’re really off to the races. This frenetic track deals with release and how music can get you there. As Matt Board says, it’s about “embracing, processing and letting go through music making and any artistic or creative process”.
“Spaces”: Jangling guitars and shimmering synths and punishing rhythms, oh my. Matt Board’s vocals are there, right on top, urging us all on. “Forget about life. Forget about what was, it’s always changing. Let go, let go, let go. You’re already gone. These feelings, they’re temporary.” It’s another track that’ll leave you breathless by the end of its three minute duration. Pale Blue Eyes want you to accept change and get on with it and have a great time in so doing.
“Simmering”: This last one here is pure joy, the height of the evening, a night out with friends and forgetting all that ails you. It’s banding together for support and appreciating all the little things that add up to greatness. It is a driving guitar that doesn’t know where the brakes are. It is rapid fire drumming and a piece of 80s synths that teases and flirts. It’s Matt board asking “In the morning it’s over, where is my mind? Is this a party inside?” This is a song that would have had me on the dance floor in seconds back when I was young enough not to know my limits and didn’t care. And I still think it would get my butt out there. It’s so beautiful.
We’ll be back in a handful of days with album #4. In the meantime, here are the previous albums in this list:
My (life in) music lists 