Marlaena Moore/Nap Eyes/Outtacontroller
Marlaena Moore
Pay Attention, Be Amazed // Independent
Pay Attention, Be Amazed by Marlaena Moore is a complex mixture of heartfelt melodies and sassy attitude. An album you can enjoy equally while sipping coffee in the sunshine, as you can gearing up to fight the patriarchy.
A delightful presence throughout Marlaena's third album is the ethereal soundscapes influenced by Chad VanGaalen's production and style. His stamp helps make the record a dreamy listen.
Weaving between melancholy and confidence, Pay Attention, Be Amazed displays a powerful vulnerability. “Better Than Me” and “All Alone (Full of Love)” are nostalgic torch songs with psychedelic twists. I swayed and I swooned.
One of the stand-out songs of the album, "I Miss You" and it's accompanying music video highlight Moore’s performance chops and song writing in the best way. Her dramatic flair and incredible vocals add an alluring originality to the video, set in a gritty storage bay. Her voice and presence transforms the space into a something mesmerizing.
Finding, losing, mourning, and missing love (or whatever it is you might have lost) is gritty. It's also dramatic and lovely. Peeking inside Marlaena Moore's version of it all is definitely worth your undivided attention.
- Monique Lawrance
Nap Eyes
Snapshot Of A Beginner // Royal Mountain
I have competitive parents. Like, fiercely competitive. Case in point: my mom’s accolades in track and field (from junior high) are displayed in front of mine on the mantelpiece at home. “If I were your age, I would have owned you in hurdles,” she says. She gloats, upon entering the house, to my younger brother (he’s 6). “My shoes are a lot cleaner than yours, Marlon!” And when the opposite is true: “Apparently I’m the only one who’s carefree enough to dirty up their shoes! You should learn to live a little!” Dad once baked himself a cake because he had more receipts in his wallet than I did. I’ve heard him ask mom, “How much can you bench?” I could go on, but you don’t have all day.
Somehow, in spite of this, we’ve made it work. My parents miss no opportunity to accept a challenge, and to take one another to task. When I started dating my new boyfriend, who plays in a band, they pounced on me like a pack of hyenas. It was dinner time, and we were working our way through “the best” casserole (“second best,” dad said). “My new boyfriend’s in a band,” I said. Dad nearly spat out a mouthful. He placed his fork down deliberately on the table and brought a napkin to his mouth with such a severe gravitas. “I…I…” he began, and cleared his throat…”I am a more thoughtful and persistent songwriter than him. I can easily, easily bring you into a cozy sunporch on a bright and warm Saturday afternoon, to play tracks that are drawn from the recesses of my contented mind.” “Have you never heard how my chords accentuate the shape of my shifting thoughts?! Sort of like an exercise in,” Dad jerked his hands up from his plate, sending his fork spiralling in the air, and landing with a clang against the table, ”…in…creative expression?!” His big hands stiffened into two claws, and he continued. “Creating sonic objects, letting their weight and shape suspend for a breath, revelling in their seemingly arbitrary nature. And then moving onto the next! And the next! And the next!” “I can do that too!” mom piped in fervently. “I CAN DO THAT TOO!” she yelled, kicking her chair out from under her, and standing up with such ferocity that her normally tightly bobbed perm wobbled on her head. She had that crazed look in her eye, that intense competitive glimmer, the same one she had when she challenged Marlon to a sword fight last year. Her voice came out sharp and shrill, and she proclaimed, “Yes, Dorothy. My finely tuned musical thoughts pop like corn kernels into a gleaming silver bowl before the DVD is inserted. My voice is perfectly suited to coerce the young man on my couch out of his cumbersome pantaloons. My sunroom, my tube amplifier, my endless supply of cocktail ingredients, and the thoughts of a woman responsible for nothing but her own self!” “Of course I can, Dorothy, of course I can, but first, I must,” mom began to grope around the room, looking for some object to snatch up, and she settled on a nalgene bottle half filled with water. “First I must have a drink of water from a… a green Nalgene bottle!” Her and dad both broke into uproarious laughter. “This is a very healthy way to get in touch with myself in these days of solitude, Dorothy. I’m just going to laze about, in MY sunroom, and when I get the inclination, I will slink off of my beanbag stool to strum a beautiful chord with the sole purpose reminding my heart to keep beating, to keep my movements lucid and elastic. Perhaps I will chew on a pen, scratching at my unkempt hair, delving into thoughts about some vagary or the other.” I stormed away from the table and slammed the door of my bedroom. “You guys are insane!” I yelled from behind the door. Their muffled laughter erupted from the other side.
Marlon came into my room later that night while I was lying in bed. “Dorothy” he said softly. I had my back turned to him, hugging my knees to my chest. I waited a moment before replying. “What?” “Listen,” he said and sat on the bed. His little body compressed the mattress ever so slightly. He placed a hand gently on my shoulder. “I…I really like your boyfriend’s band. They have…they have chill little grooves. He- your boyfriend- has inquisitive lyrics, observations of his surroundings, detached without sounding bitter or callous. There’s an simmering energy in the tunes, and to me it makes them even more intense somehow. The production is really good, a great balance of reverb-heavy lushness, but intimate and familiar, and his voice, it’s as cool as springtime breeze off the coast of the Bridlington. There’s some real bangers on here.” I smiled to myself. Marlon continued. “I…I’m happy to have this kind of influence on my young life. And I couldn’t be happier to have you as my big sister. I couldn’t contain my beaming smile, and a tear of happiness broke from my eyes. I turned around and hugged him.
- JD Ormond
Outtacontroller
Sure Thing // Alien Snatch Records
Nova Scotia's Outtacontroller has been on my radar for a short while. Thanks to Ben Disaster from 'This is Pop' for making sure they stopped in Edmonton last August. I enjoyed them so much, I caught them the following afternoon at The Grizzlar Coffee and Records Shop with my kids. With their 2020 release Sure Thing, I figured it's time we show them some proper western love.
Sure thing opens with an optimistic bouncy ditty "Too Soon" and it sets the tone for the collection of the remaining 9 upbeat rippers. Who says rock has to be long-winded or complex? Other standout tracks include:. "Operator", their chart topping single "Glassy-Eyes", and my favorite "You for You". I caught my kids cleaning the house to Outtacontroller last week. Parenting done right!
While there are no shortage of bands in this genre, very few have the chops to get folks off the couch and out to shows. I was relieved that their Edmonton shows were relatively well attended. These days, I find myself pining for a gig. I simply cannot wait for this insanity to pass. This band is for fans of Radioactivity, The Marked Men, Tommy and the Commies etc.
Outtacontroller's genius lies in making accessible melodic pop-punk seem deceptively easy. As in, they make music we would want to make, and they make it seem way too easy. I've been around way too long to know that we cannot… good think they're here doing it for our benefit.
- Drew Cox
