andPOP - Pop Culture With Substance

There used to be a new buzz band for every season. A soft humming surrounded their obscure name, or an aesthetically-abstract lead singer, or a new use for an autoharp. Gradually, the hype would build, and their album cover would soon begin to look as familiar as a Stop sign. By that point, their name and singer and music concoctions were so well-known they booked Late Night with Jay Leno and appeared on the cover of Spin. (Because Rolling Stone was too busy with American Idol.)

So anyway, the buzz has a cycle and I was getting used to it. Keeping up, even. But this summer I noticed how hopelessly out of the loop I am. The cycle has condensed, I think I have clocked it in at a maximum 14-day turnaround.

At the beginning of July, as I anxiously awaited Ottawa’s annual Bluesfest, all I heard was THE DEAD WEATHER. Jack White’s latest endeavour with Alison Mosshart (The Kills), Dean Fertita (Queens of the Stone Age) and Jack Lawrence(Raconteurs, The Greenhornes). I was ready, I was the one  telling people Jack White – yes, the man, the myth and the legend-in-the-making – was going to be in town. I stood stage-side, enraptured during their smoky and bone-chilling set at the festival and afterward I vowed, as I wiped the drool from my chin, to purchase their album and make them my new favourite band.

This was when I noticed the cycle reach warp speed. Just the next day, I was swept into a whole new mode of anticipation: Guelph’s annual Hillside Festival (a.k.a. my reason to live.) I managed to delve briefly into the repertoire of The Dead Weather but was overcome by  Hillside’s performer roster.

There was Timber Timbre, Toronto’s latest creep-folk. Then Woodhands, another Toronto export of lively electro-rock. And even though I had all year to get familiar, I was hastily catching up on The Arkells. It was a busy July.

Not two weeks have passed and I had a difficult time crafting the above paragraph, as the bands that just days ago dominated my iPod have escaped my vocabulary in lieu of this week’s flavour. (Briefly: Discovery, Passion Pit, jj.)

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It’s been a long time since I’ve purchased a brand new album on a whim. As a student, I have little disposable income so you had better believe I expect purchases such as this to pay off.

Well, my friends, I may have hit the proverbial jackpot. In the last two weeks or so, I’ve been carelessly shelling out my rent money for records, yet the return turned out to mean more to me than a roof over my head.

My purchases?

Regina Spektor’s Far. Manchester Orchestra’s Everything to Nothing. Grizzly Bear’s Veckatimest.

It wasn’t planned in advance, I didn’t wait in line outside the doors of HMV the day Grizzly Bear’s third album was released, and I actually didn’t even know Regina had been in the studio. As for Manchester Orchestra, it was more peer pressure that led me to buy it. Peer pressure and a steal of a deal at Sonic Boom.

The moral of the story, though, is the pleasant surprise that quickly followed the first few listens of each.

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