Spencer Krug, Big Rig, and MISZCZYK
Spencer Krug
Twenty Twenty Twenty Twenty One // Prounounced Kroog
There is a particular mystique that exists on Vancouver Island, British Columbia. You know what I’m talking about if you can close your eyes and smell a cool mist coming off the ocean, through the trees and into your bones within an inch of your soul. You know if you can sense the unrest of the forest after dark, burdened by the wild and it’s own restlessness. You know if you have experienced the recently released album, Twenty Twenty Twenty Twenty One. Spencer Krug (most notably of Wolf Parade) is part of the natural scene that is before you with his new self released album as the musical score.
As one may deduce, the album is a collection of singles posted monthly to Krug’s Patreon page throughout 2020 and 2021, remixed and remastered from his backyard studio in the aforementioned rural Vancouver Island. The overall sounds produced feel natural at heart, raw and acoustic then fortified with an equally raw synth. Together, the tracks create a piece of work that feels like an intrusive view into Krug’s personal experience and perception of the pandemic, becoming a father, feelings, and coping mechanisms.
When the world as we knew it hit a historic pause button, Krug was no exception to the impact. There are recognizable themes of existential crisis and seclusion throughout the album, familiar thoughts of “Should we stay inside again today?” and “In the morning we will wonder how we got here again”. However, for every two doubtful observations such as “I sometimes wonder if I haven’t in some ways already died”, there is an opportunity for something barely optimistic like “When the grey mist and the rain are just harbingers of rainbows unfolding”.
The album unfurls itself at an eerie, lo-fi kind of pace and, coupled with what Krug would refer to as “confessionalist poetry”, creates a soundscape of a darker type of folklore most prominently felt in ‘How We Have To Live’. The rhythm breaks occasionally for dreamscapes such as ‘Cut The Eyeholes’, ‘Puppeteer’ and ‘New Kind of Summer Love’. In ‘Hanging Off The Edge’, Krug pulls back and presents the piano in what we could consider a reflection of a tumultuous two year span as well as the evolution of Twenty Twenty Twenty Twenty One– “First came the death of the old ways, then came the birth of the new.”
- Frankie Undseth
Big Rig
Big Rig // Peaceful Tapes
Big Rig’s eponymous debut album, self-described as “twangmo” (twangy emo), is the first release from The Courtneys’ Jen Twynne Payne’s new passion project. Inspired by Elliott Smith, Alex G, and country music, Payne is bringing her Alberta childhood into the mix and writing sadcore put to banjo.
Payne doesn’t stray far from the themes tracked by The Courtneys with this new project, but she notes that the difference is in the way Big Rig songs sound. “When I write songs for The Courtneys [they] sound like fun summer music, but the songs are all about me being sad,” Payne notes of this distinction. “Because I’m not very proficient on the guitar, Big Rig’s songs are all slow and sad to match the lyrics. I’m just rolling with it”.
Big Rig opens with “Bachelorette”, a slowcore, loping song that many a millennial will find relatable in the age of online dating and social media. “She’s feeling kind of lonely tonight, and she’s wondering what everyone else felt like”, Payne intones on the chorus.
The last song on the album, “Venus Retrograde”, is the most upbeat track on the debut album. The chorus is a catchy, jump-around refrain: “Are you alive, are you doing alright, how you feeling inside, what you up to tonight?” Even this most bouncy track on the album is a mellower, more folksy take on The Courtneys’ songwriter’s usual indie pop fare.
Something in the measured, determined drive of the album, as well as the addition of the banjo, evokes The Magnetic Fields. There is an eau de Lucinda Williams in the attitude and frank vocal delivery on some of the more rock and roll numbers. The canon of country-inspired indie rock is a wellspring, and Big Rig is an original, relatable, and satisfyingly moody addition. If you’re feeling emo and driving an old truck down a dirt road, there’s really nothing else that will scratch the itch quite like it.
- Sophie Noel
MISZCZYK
Thyrsis of Etna // We Are Time
Many artists will use their debut album to develop a signature sound. It serves as a trailhead for their later releases and as a foundation to let the viewer know exactly what they’ll be in for. Think of a track like “Finding My Way” by Rush. After listening to that rocking track, you get a good idea on what the rest of the album - and their work as a whole - will hold.
Now Toronto-based beat maker MISZCZYK isn’t a rock band from the 1970’s, nor does their debut album follow these foundational conventions. Instead, their debut release Thyrsis of Etna couldn’t be a more versatile listening experience within its sixteen tracks.
Featuring an array of featuring artists that transcend genre, age, gender, and nationality, this makes for an ever changing sound that bows to the whims of its featuring artists. For example, the third track “Runaway, I Age” features Nigerian rapper NAI. and features a sound that’s fuzzy tones and distant string based synths that feels like an old phone going off in a sleepless night. Meanwhile the ninth track “On Zuma Beach” which features Corey Hernden and vibraphone player Chad VanGaalen, slowly builds up with flutes, synths, and a constant bass.
What I enjoy about this album most is its sheer unpredictability - you never know what the next song is going to sound like. It covers such vast soundscapes that each song is refreshing enough that it almost feels like a playlist more than the work of a superb producer.
While many artists may use their first record to display their signature sound, MISZCZYK takes this idea and turns it on its head, showing the true power behind taking away the constrictions and genre and coming out with something that you’ll never hear coming. I have no idea what we’re in for next, but I’m excited.
- Brandon Kruze
