Layten Kramer, Co-op, and Rooms
Layten Kramer
Eye to Eye // Nice Guys Records
In his fifth release, Eye to Eye (Nice Guys), Layton Kramer employs 60s tinged vocals, shimmering jangle-pop arrangements, and soulful lyrics to tell a deeply familiar story: cog-in-the-machine burnout. “The songs are inspired by the burnt out wagie lifestyle I’ve been leading throughout the pandemic”, Kramer explains. Ask almost anyone who has been alive since the advent of the industrial revolution: this EP is relatable.
“Are you getting tired of barely scraping by? / Did you dream last night, did you even shut your eyes?” Kramer asks in “Employment”, the first song on the EP. This energy, a commiseration as much as a rallying cry, is echoed throughout. In the last song on the album we hear one of the most resonant (and despondent) lines: “Somehow the coffee’s cold, it’s common these days / just like somehow I’m always five minutes late”. Kramer’s gentle vocal delivery style, frequently doubled and reverberating, allows his voice to become an instrument amidst the oscillating country-esque lead guitars, shimmering synth lines, and psychedelic production.
The eponymous track is an off-kilter psych folk wash, true to the style that Victoria, BC-based Kramer has established throughout his career. Eye to Eye is produced by Kramer, alongside friends David Parry (Loving) and Connor Head, and mixed by himself and Colin Stewart (Black Mountain, Dan Mangan, The New Pornographers). It features collaboration from a number of Victoria heavyweights, including The New Pornographers’ Kathryn Calder (vocals), Bridal Party’s Adrian Heim (drums), and Loving’s David Parry (guitar). I can hear subtle influence from fellow Victoria band Peach Pyramid in “Unravelled”, the fourth song on the EP, especially in the driving percussion through the refrain and the shot-like chord changes.
In the last track on the album, a sleepy, pedal-steel-infused lullaby called “Why Am I So Tired”, Kramer sings “I toss and turn awake in my apartment tonight, all I hear is the sound of footsteps above me / a stranger, stumbling through the daily routine.” Within the context of the album, the listener may wonder if the stranger in question is the upstairs neighbour or the singer himself. A melancholia diffuses across Eye to Eye, and the songs speak to the sense of estrangement from oneself and the world that can happen when you’re trapped in roles or rhythms that don’t fulfill you. “So come on, take me out of here, there’s somewhere else I’d rather be”.
In spite of this rather grim narrative, or perhaps to spite it, Eye to Eye is a delightful listen full of melodic and rhythmic intrigue and depth. Kramer is a musician who has clearly been able to maintain connection to his creativity despite bemoaning the day job lifestyle he leads, and who is continuing to hone an exciting and distinct voice.
- Sophie Noel
Co-op
Reward System // Self-Release
Reward System is the latest output from Vancouver trio Co-Op. Primarily dealing in that familiar coinage of ‘angular post-punk’, each of the group’s releases has been an incremental tailoring of both sonic quality and idiosyncratic style since their self-titled debut in 2016. Reward System is certainly of this trajectory - purposeful, delicately crafted and individuated - a brilliant showcase of the ‘who’ that is Co-Op in its most polished form yet.
‘Less Fun’ signals the start of the album from somewhere off in the distance, slowly approaching from a vanishing point. At its own pace, melody limps into view - each instrument part heaving together like the metal limbs of some marching automaton. Verse and chorus juxtapose here with contrasting rhythmic senses, though never does this pivoting feel abrasive or unnatural, rather these changes are camera pans, paying focus to novel elements of the musical landscape.
This sense of ‘trudging urgency’ is maintained throughout the entirety of Reward System. On the chorus of ‘Magic Eraser’, Evan Gray’s vocal sounds almost winded, as if the band are operating as a collective marathon runner, struggling to catch up to their own playing. This act of dangling on the verge of hypothetical collapse gives a kind of peril to these recordings - tension through tempo and transition - one truly feels each change and its position within the overall precarity of the music. In the same sense, ‘Paitent’ plays at bending time in small ways. While the verses drive steadily forward, both chorus and outro see the band abandon (real or imagined) metronomic gridlines and briefly rock to and fro in both time signature and pace.
‘Only Time’ relaxes things for a spell - a moment of pondering on this proverbial incline journey. Hypnotic guitar melodies pluck in repetition alongside some nondescript idiophone, while vague chimes can be made out overhead. This momentary pause is a testament to Co-Op’s dutiful organisation of the tracklist here. At its center is ‘PVC’, an industrious five-minute instrumental, featuring all manner of rippling metallic clangs alongside a deeply satisfying drum-bass groove. Here we are in the abyss, past crust and mantle, into the core of the album’s churning fire. And just as soon as we’ve descended, we are pulled up and into the march of methodical post-punk once again with ‘Life Extension’ and ‘Reality’s Veil’, each a further variation on Co-Op’s form. ‘Notional Joyride’ is another instrumental, this time uptempo and forthright. Below the mix, a warbling synth oscillates away while twin guitars duel in stereo - possibly an homage to a certain yesteryear of the Canadian post-punk lineage, namely Women.
Finally, ‘In Descending’ begins menacing and dirge-like before assuming a more squared and eventually uplifting tone, all the while framing Gray’s departing lyrical sentiments: “the possibility of an ending that will make sense of itself, in descending”. In the spirit of a tea-leaf reading, I deem Reward System a highly visual experience. Whether it be the arrangements and songwriting, or the record’s production and flavour, I am perpetually accosted with images while listening. These visions are tangled and complex, sometimes narrative, post-apocalyptic and surreal, and qualitatively as unique as the sound and texture of the album. Reward System is Co-Op’s best to date, and at this rate of refinement it’s any wonder what worlds might be conjured on future works by the group.
- Nikolas Barkman
Rooms
Don’t be yourself // Don’t Make Art for Them & No SUN Recordings
Rooms, or rooms, or sometimes ROOMS, is a band that used to be called I Make Earthquakes. The group’s lead songwriter Beshele Caron is no stranger to the indie music world, having played in groups like Greenbelt Collective, loose tights, and Kathleen Lockhart spanning back to the mid aughts. It is a slippery body of work to pin down, marked by countless cross-pollinating collaborations and contributions amidst shifting lineups and changing band names. One constant throughout, however, is Caron’s ear for the pure and simple pleasure of the hook, and on Rooms’ dreamy and pastel-hued third album Don’t be yourself, the songcraft shines as some of her best yet.
Interlocking guitar lines open the gently surfy and wistful “Best part of waking up,” and the warmth and domesticity of lines describing laying under a comforter and a partner making coffee are conveyed in hushed vocal tones: a morning lullaby for someone staying in bed. Like many songs on the album, listening to it feels like receiving a letter from a loved one. Like someone reaching across the divide, someone yearning for connection, eager to discuss the “neo-liberal bullshit” of their day, get something off their chest.
The outstanding “Laying in Lavender” is by far the most raw and minimalist song on the album, and the most moving. Dedicated to the memory of a loved one, it feels private and close, its grief and intimacy rendered in a plainspoken but pained near-whisper.
On Bandcamp, there is a page with a wonderfully labyrinthine name: Rooms formerly known as i make earthquakes formerly known as Rooms (Demos). Among their many releases stretching back to 2008, you will come across a little release from 2018 called what’s forever (demo). On it are stripped down versions of five songs that would later end up on Don’t be yourself, and the versions here present the music at its most distilled: acoustic guitar, voice, and harmony. At one point in the first track, there is the unmistakable sound of a spacebar being tapped on a laptop to stop a recording. The intimacy of the listening experience is something like receiving email from a friend at 2am with no context, only an .mp3 attachment. It is a charming and moving thing, and shifting back to hear the fleshed-out versions of these songs four years into the future, I could appreciate anew the beating heart at the center of the band.
This rawness and honesty of spirit comes through brightly and warmly, and Don’t be yourself is a powerful testament to that driving force. With the full strength of the band behind it, the album submerges itself into a sustained mood that flows along on a steady and unbroken stream. As the music ends, coming up for air, I am left with the feeling of looking up from a good book, sitting in the sun, and remembering something someone told me once.
- Harman Burns
