Mark Sanders
Reviews: July, 2004

A.C. Newman
The Slow Wonder

(Matador)

Forget what you fear about terrorists slipping through our northern borders -- AC (aka “Carl,” Ms. Jackson if you’re nasty) Newman has already done it, and he’s not stopping his reign of doom until all of you have The Slow Wonder firmly lodged in your skull. The Vancouver native and de facto leader of The New Pornographers has written 35 minutes worth of what might be an hourlong affair for similarly talented artists -- in other words, you get more of the sweet stuff in less time. The opener “Miracle Drug” starts with a beat which (I swear) resembles a slowed-down sample of Outkast’s “Hey Ya!,” and is no less infectious. Other tracks such as “Secretarial” and “On the Table” could’ve been outtakes from the Pornographers’ Electric Version; the hallmarks of what made that group so justifiably hyped are evident here, too. The incisive wit, interplay of male and female harmonies (Neko Case was replaced by Sara Wheeler here), and the sheer likeability of Newman are undoubtedly part of the equation, though The Slow Wonder is, however, far more personal than prior Pornographers outings. It’s also somewhat less anthemic and more lyrically concrete. With jangly guitars, occasional forays into ’70s new wave and British Invasion, Newman has earned (along with The Shins) a spot as one of the Pacific Northwest’s indie pop elite. If Newman is invading the U.S., you’d be better off surrendering now.

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Josh Haden
Light of Day EP

www.joshhaden.com

(Diamond Soul)

Fans of Spain, the now-defunct L.A. slo-core act fronted by one Josh Haden, will notice a difference between projects past and present before even removing Light of Day's shrinkwrap -- the cover art. Yes, it's disingenuous to evaluate an album on such superficial grounds, but the handful of us who've followed the slow rise (and amicable demise) of the ethereal pop outfit have grown used to seeing semi-clad, pouty young women on the cover, only vaguely hinting at the lovely simplicity held within. Similarly, the music is a departure from past efforts, forsaking drums for the type of rudimentary synth grooves usually reserved for demos. Which is, consequently, exactly what Light of Day sounds like. Haden, the son of renowned jazz bassist Charlie Haden, is a master of pristine, half-spoken/half-sung lines that sound like heartfelt come-ons, stripping down melodies to their bare essence and revealing to listeners the most basic elements of a great love song. Melodically, this album resembles old slave spirituals, augmented by acoustic guitars and a Wurlitzer, which more than compensate for the drum machine's cold comfort, and Haden's voice -- one that rivals Jeff Buckley's in seductiveness but tonally is more reminiscent of Nick Drake's. Although Light of Day's messages sometimes fall dangerously close to the soft rock of guilty-pleasure acts like Air Supply or Michael Franks, it's the delivery that sets it apart. And that kind of pleasure ain't guilty at all.

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