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Best albums of 2023: #3 The Veils “…And out of the void came love”

When I sat down to write this post, I was not a little bit flabbergasted to realize that this would make only the second time* that The Veils have appeared on these pages. Of course, it made more sense once I reasoned that it had been more than seven years since their last album, which was one year before I started My Life in Music Lists.

The Veils got their start way back in 2001 when a teenaged Finn Andrews was signed to Rough Trade Records and relocated back to his birthplace of London, England after growing up for the most part in New Zealand. He has been the group’s driving force and only static member, though they did have a pretty stable five-piece lineup for a decade or so between the mid-2000s and up to the release and tour cycle of their fifth album, 2016’s “Total depravity”. I had been a pretty rabid fan of the group, right after hearing their debut, espousing their virtues to all my friends and acquaintances, and featuring them regularly on my old blog, Music Insanity**.

I would go on about how Finn Andrews’ theatrical vocals and emotional songwriting and delivery really set The Veils apart from any other band, comparing his voice to that of a Rufus Wainwright or a young Lou Reed (before his voice went to seed) and his soul to that of Tom Waits or Nick Cave, or even an older Lou Reed. And all of these superlatives grew in stature when I saw them in 2007 for their tour supporting their 2006 album, “Nux Vomica”, and was blown away by the passion of Andrews and how he throws himself completely into the performance of his music.

To that point, Andrews broke his wrist while touring a solo album he had released in 2019 and he made it worse by deciding to finish out the tour. This meant for a much longer recovery in which he couldn’t tour or perform live. Instead, he spent the time resting and writing and recording by himself. Of course, the worldwide pandemic complicated things and extended their absence, but when The Veils finally resurfaced, now in 2023, it was with this magnificent double album and a whole new lineup of players backing the welcome return of an incredible songwriter and singular vocalist.

“…And out of the void came love” is an album of two thematic parts, meant to be listened to as such. It is recognizable as The Veils and their gothic and romantic take on folk and rock, still evoking Waits and Cave, but here there is more hope, a hint of a sunrise after a long dark night. I highly recommend you take the time give this one its due but my three picks for you can give a taste of what this return has to offer.


“Epoch“: The second song on the second side of part/disc one, aka track number six, is an urgent and visceral explosion. Andrews holds court like a crazed ringmaster during the verses, shouting rather than singing them, rattling them off through an an invisible megaphone, tipping his hat, and dancing a jig and all the while drums clatter, the bass punishes, and guitars dance through feedback and threaten to fall out of tune. And when it comes to the chorus, all Andrews needs to do is repeat the same line, “I’ve seen it coming”, multiple times, but they’re just words, the meaning and emotion is different every time they escape his lips. It’s a vocal achievement and a trick of magic and you’re held rapt the whole time.

“Time”: This whole beast starts off with this nearly six minute piano-driven dirge that was released as a single on New Years Day 2023. It was written during the first lockdowns in New Zealand and reflects what I am sure a lot of us were feeling in the early days of the pandemic. The piano rolls interminably like the incessant ticking of a clock as it keeps you up in the early hours of the morning. It has the feeling of walking the tightrope of insanity. “Тіmе іѕ а dеvіl. Тіmе іѕ а rосk. Тіmе іѕ а rіddlе, nоnе оf uѕ саn unlосk.” It is Andrews playing in a realm of poetic lyricism, dragging us along with him through his range of emotions, and it is here, along with a number of other places on the album, that we can hear with almost perfectly clarify where all those comparisons to Nick Cave come from.

“No limits of stars”: The track that follows the last one then turns us all on our heads. If we think we’re getting and we think we want an album full of murder ballads like “Time”, we realize within the first few seconds of “No limit of stars” that we were dead wrong. “Well, it’s true the universe cares not how we all live and die. But there’s an element missing in that arrangement somehow, and I wondered why, in any way, we don’t live long, beneath no limit of stars.” It’s a rousing piece of existentialism, an exploration of our smallness in the face of infinity and expansion. And Andrews and his merry band of musicians punish us lovingly with a tune without quit. The drum beat doesn’t break and the haunting guitars and lonely keys match it breath for breath, heartache for heartache. It exists in a frozen place and time, as the second hand hesitates between notches just after midnight and the rest of the house is quiet, save for its settling creaks and groans. It is intense but perfectly so.


*The only other The Veils post here is a ‘Vinyl love’ piece I did for their debut album four and half years ago.

**Part of the reason I was gobsmacked that they hadn’t appeared on this blog more to date, something I shall have to remedy, obviously.

We’ll be back after Christmas with album #2. In the meantime, here are the previous albums in this list:

10. Bodywash “I held the shape while I could”
9. Boygenius “The record”
8. Depeche Mode “Memento mori”
7. The Clientele “I am not there anymore”
6. Eyelids “A colossal waste of light”
5. Pale Blue Eyes “This house”
4. The Reds, Pinks and Purples “The town that cursed your name”

You can also check out my Best Albums page here if you’re interested in my other favourite albums lists.

Categories
Albums

Best albums of 2023: One more honourable mention

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.

Categories
Albums

Best albums of 2023: #4 The Reds, Pinks And Purples “The town that cursed your name”

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:

10. Bodywash “I held the shape while I could”
9. Boygenius “The record”
8. Depeche Mode “Memento mori”
7. The Clientele “I am not there anymore”
6. Eyelids “A colossal waste of light”
5. Pale Blue Eyes “This house”

You can also check out my Best Albums page here if you’re interested in my other favourite albums lists.