SOUND BITES

Try as they might to prove themselves as the same vital force of Canadian rock that they once were (they embarked on a 20th anniversary tour to celebrate Clumsy , their most enduring and popular record, last year), the Our Lady Peace of 2018 is pretty far removed from the one that dominated airwaves on both sides of the 49th parallel a couple of decades ago. Raine Maida remains the unmistakable voice and soul of this band, that much is unchanged; none of his original band mates, however, have made it to the ninth OLP album. Original guitarist Mike Turner's departure over fifteen years ago still marks a stark turning point (no pun intended) in the band's trajectory, as they would soon take their sound in a less heavy, more melodic direction. The four albums that followed Turner's departure saw diminishing returns, with 2012's Curve struggling to register much traction even on home soil. Then, in 2014, founding drummer Jeremy Taggart left the fold, leaving fans more tha

It would have been easy for Turnstile to turn in more of the same on their second LP (and first for Roadrunner), delivering a safe continuation of the high energy hardcore that got them noticed in the first place. As Time & Space illustrates, however, the quintet have no plans to stay confined to their expectations. While the roaring guitars and pounding drums that built the foundation of their sound are still the foundation of the album, there are elements of R&B, psych, pop and even shoegaze spread across its relentlessly entertaining 25 minutes. Confining the more extreme experiments to small spaces (such as Bomb and Disco , two songs clocking in at a combined 71 seconds) means no idea gets a chance to overstay its welcome. It also means that the band has the freedom to take their sound wherever they want confident in the knowledge that they don't have to dwell on one style or sound for too long, because in a couple of minutes they're off to the next song, the n

It seems like a lifetime ago, but Superchunk were once sullenly riding into the sunset. Here's to Shutting Up , released just a week after 9/11, saw the indie rockers soften their sound and mostly eschew their scrappy roots for pensive and emo-tinged songs of maturity. It was received well enough, but there was a sense of finality to it, a sigh of concession after over a decade of building a small, devoted fan base and yet not making their mark to the extent of their brasher, angrier contemporaries. Then, nearly a decade later, they returned with a new record that was no altered beast or contrived nostalgia grab, rather an assured and triumphant resumption of services. Majesty Shredding was followed three years later by I Hate Music , a darker shade for the band that tackled both mortality and music itself (the main takeaway being that, as many memories are made with music, it can't bring back the ones we've lost). Since then, through the occasional show and/or single,

Brian Fallon has never been shy when it comes to tinkering with his sound; as leader of The Gaslight Anthem, he steered his band through a myriad of styles while carefully keeping the core sound grounded to the Americana-spiked punk that got them to the show. Still, his own knack for nostalgic melodies and tales of the heart have kept his music seemingly consistent no matter how far off into tangents they end up. Enter Sleepwalkers , Fallon's second solo record (and, if you count his discography with Gaslight Anthem and onetime side project Horrible Crowes, eighth record overall); on it, having already done the prerequisite "tone down your sound a bit for your solo record", Fallon dives headfirst into "go ahead and remind 'em of your old band". To wit, these tunes are a little scrappier than those found on Painkillers , and also a little more mature sounding. There is still a heavy dose of nostalgia, to be sure, starting from the top with the snappy Moto

Let's just get this out of the way: Legend of the Seagullmen is more than a little ridiculous. Heralded as a supergroup featuring members of Tool (drummer Danny Carey) and Mastodon (guitarist Brent Hinds), this LA-based band bears passing similarities to those bands but filters their respective styles through an eccentric concept album revolving around an assorted cast of seafaring characters. Lyrics are unavailable online, so I can only go by what my ears tell me, but these tales seem a little whimsical, somewhat comedic and wholly ludicrous. This isn't alien territory for at least one of the band members; Hinds famously contributed to the now classic concept album about Moby Dick that set Mastodon upon a path to greatness. In some ways, then, Legend of the Seagullmen plays like a sort of parody of Leviathan , even being so brazen as to incorporate nautical sound effects throughout. The story is, as I said, a bit difficult to decode, but rest assured that shit gets absurd

On their fourth album, The Sheepdogs aren't too drastically different a band from the one that burst onto the scene in the early years of the decade; so as to say, they're still indebted to classic rock. They've slowly brought more influences into their sound as they've gone along, yet they remain easy rocking, melodiously minded children of that smoky seventies sound; of course this means you shouldn't expect anything too shockingly different from Changing Colours despite what that title may suggest. Ewan Currie remains the driving force here, handling writing and co-production duties; as such, his knack for juicy harmonies and throwback flair are once again in full effect. Changing Colours opens with a trio of top-down summer night winners, including singles Nobody and I've Got a Hole Where My Heart Should Be , as well as future single hopeful Saturday Night . It's a thrilling start to what turns out to be an overall pleasing record, though admitted

Try as they did to keep their streak of great records going when they signed to Nuclear Blast prior to the release of 2014's Bloodstone & Diamonds , that seventh record had its fair share of problematic content. To start, there was too much of it; after establishing themselves with a trio of universally acclaimed, conceptually concise albums, Bloodstone & Diamonds was their longest album by a full ten minutes over its closest competition and saw a more scattered sonic approach that made for an uneven and exhaustive listen. Also, Rob Flynn's lyrics seemed to be getting a little more trite and, in some cases, riddled with clichés. The end result was no mere step down but, in some circles at least, a violent fall down the stairs for one of metal's highest profile bands. Of course, it's not like this is the first time a revered and popular metal band has had a misstep. Megadeth had Risk , Metallica had St. Anger ; hell, even trusty Slayer rubbed fans the wrong