I know it’s a vast part of the North American continent, but W&H seem to be featuring so much offbeat talent from Canada these days that it’s almost embarrassing.
The latest off-kilter export to come our way from the great Maple State is Toronto resident ANDREW VINCENT. He’s apparently also working on a PhD in Communication and Culture at York University, but thankfully he continues to find the time to write intimate, oddball vignettes like those that peopled his 2003 album ‘I Love the Modern Way’.
In keeping with its’ mouldy, throwaway title, ‘Rotten Pear’ often takes its’ inspiration from the downtrodden (going on forgotten) elements in society. It veers between low-key acoustic pop-folk to slightly sloppy Punky Power Pop, but Vincent’s vivid lyrical barbs are always memorable and his songs have a way of charming their way into your heart after only an elementary couple of listens.
Certainly anyone who has responded favourably to the deceptively naive charms of Jonathan Richman or The Mountain Goats’ John Darnielle will find plenty to embrace here. Songs like ‘Diane’ (“I still see a lot of assholes who don’t wanna lose control”) or the drug-addled failing relationship tale ‘Hi-Lo’ are resigned, wit’n’melancholy-laced tales which stay with you for ages afterwards. Arguably even better are ‘Bus Stop’ and the title track. Driven by cello, woodwind and accordion, ‘Bus Stop’ is a downbeat late night slice of life which finds love blooming in the most unlikely places, while ‘Rotten Pear’ brings Vincent’s cheap harmonium centre stage and its’ intimate plea (“my little heart was shrivelled up and brown/ like an old rotten pear on the ground”) is both surreal and touching.
In contrast, songs like ‘Nobody Else’ and ‘Under My Thumb’ showcase a tight-but-loose Power Pop sound, with Billy Bragg-ish guitar chording and Shayne Cox’s rudimentary, Mo Tucker-esque drumming to the fore. With its’ great line “she might be in Tahiti or the Bahamas”, ‘Nobody Else’ paraphrases Wreckless Eric’s classic ‘Whole Wide World’, while the grubby, but celebratory ‘Under Your Thumb (“they wanna fuck, they wanna fight, they wanna get high”) finds fatal attraction and a devil may care attitude to life colliding head-on.
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A few arrows either miss or only just about hit the target. ‘Sleep to Dream’, for example, is more a waking reverie than a song and a bizarre and vulnerable take on Kate Bush’s ‘Hounds of Love’ makes The Futureheads’ version seem like a Phil Spector production. But neither are major blemishes and Vincent still has cool little vignettes such as ‘Going Out Tonight’s temptation-versus-abstinence tussle and the beaten punk’s blues ‘Ruffian’ up his sleeve and he’s happy to sport his bruised heart upon it regardless of what the singer/ songwriter rules may teach.
‘Rotten Pear’ deserves a much happier fate than to be discarded in the lo-fi trash. It’s bruised, hurting and scuffed, for sure, but it’s also intimate and wise and – at its best - its hopeful little melodies are quite beautiful. Andrew Vincent, it seems, demands to be added to the ever-lengthening list of promising Canadian talent threatening to push the floodgates wide open.
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