Certainly not to be confused with either The Verve's album of (almost) the same name or the discerning '60s club scene, this 'Northern Soul' quite possibly refers to 54-40's home base, the north-western Canadian metropolis of Vancouver.
Having solved that geographical cipher, we can get down to business and discover that 54-40 are actually long-standing homeland heroes. Their press release speaks of huge Canadian sales, a clutch of Top 10 radio singles, contracts with Columbia and Warner Brothers and further success by dint of their tune 'I Go Blind' being covered by the much-maligned Hootie & The Blowfish.
Not a bad return all told. Even if they don't quite make the grade as international megastars, they've had a career heading for three decades and the solid, sometimes inspired 'Northern Soul' suggests there's plenty of life in them yet.
Most of the album's best tracks come in a flourish at the start. Opener 'The Chant' has an exhilarating, windblown intensity, propelled by layers of guitars and the emotional bloodletting of the lyrics (e.g: “Oh my darling, how I fell for you on the shores of darkness”) suits Neil Osborne's grainy, lived-in vocal, which at times veers towards Michael Stipe territory.
It's a good start and they build upon it with the almost-Power Pop of the anthemic 'Snap' and the excellent 'The Scare of Meaning Less'. This latter's title alone sums up the modern malaise most of us seem to be grappling with daily if we're over 25 and it's hard not to relate to lines like: “you feel you're being punished when you've only ever done your best/ and the force of life just shakes its' head” in the current scheme of things.
The album arguably peaks with the title track. A duet between Neil and Coral Osborne, it tackles the horrors of war (Iraq, presumably) head on, from the point of view of a bereaved couple who've lost their son in action. A poignant ballad, the lyrics are (inevitably) laden with emotion (“'cause you made him with your love and he flies above/ and we both know he was better than this war”) and the music has a grace and dignity which is entirely fitting.
|
To be fair, it's hardly all downhill from there. Songs like 'Where Did The Money Go' and 'To Face Your Eyes' peddle a satisfying line in world-weary observations allied to sprightly tunes; 'The Wind Down' boasts a yearning chorus which could provide easily an addition to those radio hits and 'Moonbeach' has one of those apparently naff hooklines (“go go go, go baby go”) you'll end up humming in spite of yourself.
Yes, there's the occasional less than essential moment. 'Shade Grows', for example, is rather abstract and slight and 'One Hundred Songs'' unlikely banjo motif wrong-foots you, although it grows on you with repeated exposure. More effective is the closing 'Lucky', which again chooses the 'acoustic postscript' option on the menu. It's a naked and sparse thing with a gentle, rising shimmer of strings adding subtle, distinguished colour and Osborne's lyrics (“in our hearts we're looking for something more/ to find in darkness a reason to keep beating”) again searching for a way ahead. It wears its' vulnerability well and it's an ideal way to wind the record up.
'Northern Soul' wears its' bruises with pride. It's borne of experience and rolling with the punches. At its' best, it converts its' creators' round-the-block-a-few-times experiences into something very satisfying indeed. It would suggest 54-40 have a rosy future as well as a respectable past.
|
