The Mathematics of Metric America Again Considers the Canadian System of Indie Rock By Andrew Clayman Published in The Nashville Scene, October 2010
Befitting their name, the Canadian band Metric—while embraced as a dance-rock standard bearer in some parts of the world—has yet to completely win over the stubborn American market. The indie quartet’s latest LP, 2009’s dark and new-wavy Fantasies, marked their first appearance on the U.S. charts, peaking at a so-so #76. Meanwhile, just over the border, Fantasies was a platinum smash—the third consecutive Metric album to go gold or better in the North Country.
Even if the evidence would seem to speak to the contrary, there is no cultural divide keeping Metric’s slick, sharp and easily digestible brand of Canuck-rock out of America’s Alanis-loving wheelhouse. In fact, a half dozen of the band’s infectious jams have already infiltrated the soundtracks to many of our most cherished American institutions—be it the tearful end to the latest fling on Grey’s Anatomy or the prologue to Turtle somehow shtupping another broad on Entourage. For a group comprised of thirty-somethings, they’ve even managed to quietly corner the youth market as well, with prominent tracks on both the Twilight: Eclipse and Scott Pilgrim soundtracks this summer.
If there’s a stumbling block in Metric’s quest for stateside name recognition, it may come down to a simple matter of mathematics. In the hierarchy of Canada’s critically acclaimed and commercially viable rock bands, Metric is easily lost in the shuffle—sharing influences, textures, attitudes, and yes, band members, with seemingly every other major outfit in the neighboring provinces. The saving grace-- and quite possibly the quintessential Canadian indie rock figure of the moment—is Metric’s founder and frontwoman Emily Haines.
Back in the ‘90s, Haines was among Toronto’s burgeoning new crop of high-minded struggling artists, palling around with the retro-tuned hipsters that would eventually form bands like the Dears, Stars, and of course, the all-encompassing beast of Canadian indie-rock, Broken Social Scene. In BSS, Haines played the thin, blonde duchess—a little more intense than the similarly baby-voiced Amy Millan and a good deal tougher than the wispy Leslie Feist. Before the first Metric album had seen the light of day, Haines had already displayed her balancing act of vulnerability and guile on the unforgettable “Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl” off of Broken Social Scene’s 2002 record, You Forgot It In People.
A year later, Haines (as lead vocalist and synth player) finally introduced the world to the band she’d been building for several years with guitarist James Shaw, bassist Josh Winstead, and drummer Joules Scott-Key. Metric’s Old World Underground, Where Are You Now? was a game changer of sorts—an album indebted to the ‘80s electro-pop sound that was also informing Millan’s new band Stars, but with an unbridled rock energy more in line with the Brooklyn sound that Haines and Shaw had absorbed while living in New York in the late ‘90s (Yeah Yeah Yeahs, in particular).
By 2004, Haines and Co. seemed primed for their big moment as Canada’s new rock ambassadors. But they were rudely run over by an even more melodramatic bunch from Montreal (led by a transplanted Texan, no less) called the Arcade Fire. Around the same time, a pair of Calgary-born twin sisters named Tegan and Sara came charging across the border with their own synth-heavy pop sound, scoring an American hit with “Walking with a Ghost.” Right behind them were Haines’ old pals Stars (with their breakthrough album Set Yourself on Fire) and Feist with her Juno prize-winning Let It Die LP. Metric’s “scene” had suddenly spread beyond even their sizable Broken Social one, and by the time they released 2005’s Live It Out, their superstardom at home was undeniable, if only a bit tempered by another hazy reception in the USA. Anyone who heard “Monster Hospital” or “Empty” had to like what they heard. It was just a matter of figuring out which of those cool new Canadian bands they were listening to.
After Live It Out, Metric went on an extended hiatus. Haines released two gut-wrenching but beautiful solo albums, Shaw started a production studio, and the rhythm section put together a side band of their own, Bang Lime. By the time the foursome reconvened to make Fantasies, the creative itch was cresting—and the marketing team was on high alert. A year later, they’re still riding out the wave, supporting Fantasies for another American go-round as the band’s TV and movie appearances continue to fan the flames of fan interest. Metric’s Nashville gig is surrounded by a handful of opening slots for Brit-rock giants Muse, and by the winter, the plan is to head back to the studio to get to work on album number five.
“The function of music in my life is to help me understand what the hell is happening,” Haines has said. As to whether Americans will soon understand the mightiness of Metric, a few million Twilight fans is as good a place to start as any.
Early Bloomers North Carolina's Annuals Come of Age on 'Such Fun' By Andrew Clayman Published (with edits) in The Scene (Cleveland), January 2009
If you listen to Neil Young’s recently released 1968 concert album, Sugar Mountain, you’ll find it virtually impossible to separate the charming, 22 year-old kid in that recording from the grizzled, cavemanish rock legend we know today. There’s just too much historical context to wade through now, preventing us from hearing young Neil’s budding genius with objective, virgin ears.
Fortunately, if you’re hung up on talented, 22 year-old musicians, some of them can still be found right here in 2009—fresh faced and yet to be cast in the shadow of their own realized potential. One of the very best is Adam Baker, front man for the Raleigh, NC, indie-rock sextet Annuals. At an age when most guys are realizing they should have chosen a different major, Baker is generating buzz as one of rock’s finest young songwriters—a title once held by a certain Canadian fellow, before the gold rush.
“Well, that’s a bit different,” Baker says. “That’s Neil Young!”
Baker, who speaks with the cadence of an experienced beer pong player, is far too laid back and humble to be comparing himself to Hall of Famers. He does, however, see the advantages of being a songwriter on the right side of 25.
“It’s not even about youth really, but maybe just being less jaded,” he says. “I fuckin’ hate that word, but you know, an unspoiled mind starting to make music is a priceless thing. And I’m not saying I’m unspoiled or a diamond in the rough or anything. I’m just saying people have a much better state of mind about music and art and creativity when they haven’t been around too many other people who are doing it. Just having that fresh outlook on things creates the opportunity for somebody to make a really great record or work of art—when you’re not remotely tired of it yet and you’re still having fun at every turn.”
Of course, not everything about being a young, critically lauded rocker is as fun as it was in 1968. Even as Annuals were basking in the overwhelming response to their 2006 debut album Be He Me, the blogosphere’s lovefest with the band wasn’t translating into record sales. For Baker and his Carolina comrades, success would have to have its sacrifices.
“I’m certainly not making any money,” Baker says, almost scoffing at the notion. “I’m not even able to afford my own apartment. I’m living with my bass player’s mom [I foolishly fail to pursue this subject any further]. I don’t know, Man. I’m definitely proud that we’re going somewhere and that I get to do this, but it’s certainly not the same thing it used to be. If we were where we are now, say, fifteen years ago, when records were still selling, we wouldn’t have a damn thing to worry about.”
That being said, Baker has no ill will toward the series of tubes that is the internet, regardless of how many Annuals “fans” choose to illegally download his songs.
“At this stage, I call the internet a friend, because anyone who thinks they’re going to make any money from selling records is just living in the ‘90s [laughs]. There’s no chance. It’s just not possible anymore. Now you make money by touring, period. So, the internet is a friend. People can read about you, find out about you. It generates interest in music you might not ever hear otherwise.”
When Annuals are described in those aforementioned internet passages, they tend to get an inordinate amount of comparisons to a pair of similarly well populated Canadian bands, the Arcade Fire and Broken Social Scene. In reality, aside from mashing together an eclectic array of influences and orchestration, Annuals don’t actually sound a hell of a lot like either of those bands. They have, however, created a music community in Raleigh somewhat akin, on a much smaller scale, to the one that Broken Social Scene helped to jumpstart in Toronto.
“I think Raleigh has had a pretty massive influence on our music,” Baker says. “I’ve been playing around here since I was 12 or 13, so it’s definitely had a huge impact on me. I was actually just thinking about this the other day— if I’m ever actually going to be able to leave this city. I’m already turning into an old man at 22, not wanting to leave. But the music scene here right now is starting to really evolve, and bands are branching out into new directions and genres, which I think is really important to a good music scene. You’ll want to keep your eye on Raleigh.”
For now, at least, Annuals are the undisputed ambassadors of that scene, and they’re currently touring the frigid North in support of their second LP, Such Fun, which dropped in October. With a bright, expansive sound to match the Bob Ross landscape painting on its cover, Such Fun finds all six members of Annuals at the peak of their (albeit still developing) powers.
Everyone in the band is a multi-instrumentalist (on stage, they’ve been known to reassign duties in the middle of a song), and it takes a team effort to catalog the genre-hopping journey that is Such Fun. Guitarists Kenny Florence and Zack Oden, along with keyboardist Anna Spence, are the musical equivalent of Bob Ross’ “happy little trees”—building on Baker’s radio-ready compositions with everything from jangle pop arpeggios (“Confessor) to Nashville balladry (“Always Do”) and some occasional left field prog-rock showmanship (“Hot Night Hounds”). If the Arcade Fire comparisons have any merit, it may be less about the strings and more about the intensity of Annuals’ rhythm section— the versatile Mike Robinson (bass) and Nick Radford (drums).
It should be noted that Baker himself also plays pretty much everything, and when it comes to the development of a song, it’s well understood who’s in charge.
“Usually, I write the song and I’ll go in there and record it, and then everyone else comes in and adds things to it,” Baker says. “There are certainly times when I’ll be defensive about the way I want the song, but usually I’m more than happy to get more input. It can be very draining being the creative head of things sometimes. And everyone in my band is so fucking good, I definitely respect all of them and appreciate all their ideas. So yeah, it’s pretty democratic. I don’t think I’m an asshole [laughs], but I definitely am at the helm, and I think everyone’s okay with that.”
Being captain of the Annuals ship also means setting a few band resolutions for the year ahead.
“Well, we want to make a profit this year. We’ve been trying for years to figure out how to come home from a tour with money. But each time, something happens—a wheel of the van comes off or something. But, you know, our resolution is just to get better, keep working, and hopefully, somehow, get our own apartments.”
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Raleigh's Annuals Earn Big Hype, Little Cash By Andrew Clayman Published (with edits) in The Nashville Scene, March 2009 In the gardening world, “annuals” pop up in the spring, party all summer, and say farewell in the fall. In the music world, Annuals have no such luxury. Touring in support of their expansive sophomore album Such Fun, the six fresh-faced members of Raleigh’s finest indie-pop outfit have spent their winter in transit from one mercilessly frigid destination to the next—Minneapolis, Cleveland, Boston, Montreal. Chicago offered a pleasant -20 degrees.
“Yeah, we weren’t worried so much about the crowd sizes as the fucking freezing ass cold,” says Adam Baker, Annuals’ free-spirited, 22 year-old frontman. “I do not do well in cold weather.”
Such are the sacrifices a modern independent band must make to earn a buck. As Baker explains, no amount of critical acclaim (of which Annuals have had plenty) or internet buzz (of which they’ve probably had too much) is enough to sustain a musical career in this day and age.
“I’m definitely proud that we’re going somewhere and that I get to do this,” he says, “but it’s certainly not the same thing it used to be. If we were where we are now, say, fifteen years ago, when records were still selling, we wouldn’t have a damn thing to worry about. …But anyone who thinks they’re going to make any money from selling records now is just living in the ‘90s. There’s no chance. It’s just not possible anymore. Now you make money by touring, period.”
And so Annuals soldier on, basking now in the comparatively sweltering conditions of a brief jaunt through the Southeast on their way home to North Carolina. It should certainly be noted that Baker and his band mates are very proud ambassadors of the burgeoning Raleigh scene. Even as their music garners more comparisons to the meticulously produced chamber-pop of Canadian ensembles like the Arcade Fire and Broken Social Scene, the axis of their influences and style remains firmly in the City of Oaks.
“It’s definitely had a huge impact on me,” Baker says. “I’ve been playing around Raleigh since I was 12 or 13, so it’s had a pretty massive influence. I was actually just thinking about this the other day— if I’m I ever actually going to be able to leave this city. I’m already turning into an old man at 22, not wanting to leave. But the music scene here right now is starting to really evolve, and bands are branching out into new directions, which I think is really important to any good music scene.”
As Baker encourages people to check out what’s brewing in Raleigh, it’s hard to ignore that he and his Annuals brethren seem to make up a large chunk of that scene in and of themselves. Just about everybody in the band has other projects they’re involved with, including guitarist Kenny Florence’s band Sunfold—the group from which Annuals actually sprung in 2003. More than anything, all this musical cross-pollination speaks to the diverse talents of these young musicians. But of course, basic survival is a factor, too, as even hip rock bands are battling the economic down turn.
“It’s definitely a concern, but it’s definitely worth it, too,” Baker says. “I’m certainly not making any money. I’m not even able to afford my own apartment. I’m living with my bass player’s mom. I can’t keep a day job because I’m on tour all the time. …But, you know, I can’t imagine being able to enjoy anything else in life as much as this for a career.”
Even when the cadence of his speaking voice slips into beer pong champion mode, Baker’s passion is undeniable, and so is his talent. Such Fun, the follow-up to Annuals’ much ballyhooed 2006 debut Be He Me, runs the gamut from pensive piano balladry to drum-heavy saloon rock and prog caliber showmanship. Baker writes most of the songs himself, then delivers them to the band for the rather liberal layering process to begin. The result on Such Fun is a big, wide-screen, Technicolor sound perfectly suited to the Bob Ross nature painting chosen for the album’s cover. It’s also music well suited to Annuals’ notoriously high energy shows, which makes winter gigging a little easier to deal with, even in a recession.
“We have a goal of making a profit this year,” Baker says. “We’ve been trying for years to someone how figure out how to come home from a tour with money. But each time, something happens—a wheel of the van comes off or something. But, you know, our main goal is just to get better, keep working, and hopefully, somehow, get our own apartments.”
Coldplay Viva La Vida or Death and All His Friends Capitol All rock bands are thieves of one breed or another-- from the Beatles and Stones to whatever Johnny-come-lately happens to be on the cover of NME this week. It’s the smart ones, however, who cop to the offense, and Coldplay is no exception.
Way back in the pre-Gwyneth days, Chris Martin had already established his perfect defense against accusations of copycatism, using an impenetrable wall of modesty to avoid the anticipated post-“Yellow” backlash. With each subsequent release, Coldplay has faced new variations on the same old criticism, and they have continued to shake them off with ease every time, becoming the biggest rock band in the world in the process.
With Viva La Vida or Death And All His Friends, the band’s slow gestation from Bends-era Radiohead devotees to full-on, jumbo-tron U2 torchbearers is complete. It’s a coronation they wisely put in the hands of Joshua Tree producer Brian Eno, a man who knows a thing or two about the need for subtlety even within the widest scope.
Like most Coldplay albums, you might be inclined to hate this one at first. The title is stupid, the cover art lazily defaces a Delacroix painting, and everything sounds just a wee bit familiar. Rather than Bono, Martin actually does a dead-on Sting impression at the end of “Life In Technicolor.” “Lovers in Japan” is a New Wave retro-march right out of Arcade Fire’s repertoire. And the best song on the album, “Lost,” somehow has the same chord progression as Joan Osbourne’s god forsaken “One of Us” (yes, I just ruined it for you). All of these songs also sound like U2, of course, but somehow, you like it. I like it. Everybody likes it. And that’s the magic of Coldplay, Britain’s current prince of thieves.
