a music review: “Unessential Oils” by Warren Spicer, the guy from Plants and Animals

Montreal rolled in the 2000s, producing bands like Arcade Fire, Wolf Parade, and Warren Spicer's band Plants and Animals.

 

"Unessential Oils," Spicer's first solo effort, represents a vibe more than a vision. Spicer said, "The process was the therapy of working through. The result is more a document than construction. It's what happened, not what I made happen."

It absolutely sounds like an album of therapeutic chilling. You put it on and soak.

See Spicer shaving in the tub? The album includes the downbeat song, "Suds." He sings, "And every day I'm trying to get back to that / I'm like a monk in deep meditation / Oh, I’m safe inside—oh, inside my suds, left alone with a cold beer in a hot bathtub / Send me back to sleep, and when I get on my feet, I'll be a new man."

Spicer and his collaborators coax tracks. The quiet performances emphasize delicate, shimmering percussion.

The vocal textures the sedated music with hints of strain. Spicer sings about release and holds on to his intensity.

My favorite song is the opener, "Distrust the Magician." This sounds brutally chill.

Chords ripple under slippery drums and cymbals that sound like sun through crystal windchimes. "I'm above you now," Spicer sings, sounding painfully removed. And I love how the drums syncopate in the outro. So good.

Album single "Chameleon" features a Latin jazz rhythm and numbed chords that lift the refrain's vocal melody: "Oh babe, I love you a lot / Oh babe, I need you now / And we could have a lot of fun just putting trouble on the run / I know we've got a lot to do, and you and me are trouble at the best of times / But living is a lot of fun—hiding like chameleon."

And you can relate to the words in "Solutions to My Gloom," where Spicer meditates on the sense of doom felt even in everyday, low-pressure situations. "In fact, I like it here in the waiting room / A sensе of impending doom / scroll and creep through the punctured skin / Solutions to my gloom." This, sung to the song's breathy, layered arrangement.

 

"Don't Go to Bed When You're Mad" wakes from sedation and expands time. The instrumentation gently pulls at Spicer's wavering, detached vocal. The music is a helium-filled balloon, and his voice is the little string you hold on to. A guitar picks out meandering trails of freed melodic thoughts.

 

"Unessential Oils" is an exhale—or an attempt at one. Take a deep breath.

 

Secret City Records released "Unessential Oils" on May 31, 2024.

 

Note: I reviewed an album by Plants and Animals guitar player Nicolas Basque and his bandBibi Club and the 2020 Plants and Animals album, "The Jungle."

 

about an album from Montreal-based indie pop duo Bibi Club

A blend of new wave and French pop to cool you off

Guitarist Nicolas Basque met singer/keyboardist Adèle Trottier-Rivard at a Plants and Animals recording session. They started dating and formed Bibi Club in 2019.

The duo debuted that year with an EP, followed up with a full-length in 2022, and, on May 10th, released a new album, "Feu de garde."

It opens with the downbeat "La Terre." Trottier-Rivard sings this in French, and her unfussy vocal counters Basque's wobbling, preoccupied guitars. The vocal melodies catch like a nursery rhyme. All the while, the bass stretches ahead like a sidewalk decorated in hopscotch squares of multicolored chalk.

The French pop-inspired Stereolab comes to mind. Bibi Club say they make living room party music. Up- or downtempo, it sounds great.

The cool grass of Trottier-Rivard's delivery pairs wonderfully with Basque's suggestive guitar sounds and rhythms. His guitar tone often echoes The Cure. Bibi Club knit songs with inspired, layered arrangements of easy melodies, and notes hang like ribbons in the breeze. Guitars, bass, and drums—each gives a focused performance.

On "Parc de Beauvoir," a pulse-quickened guitar rings out. The soft, seemingly superficial lyrics—"Did you see the flowers on the brick wall? Did you see how people dress? We walk around, we talk together"—belie the tension gradually building layer by layer.

"Le feu" is one of my favorites. The bass offers Trottier-Rivard space, and her breathy French does not even flinch when the rhythm section skips by. The guitar's beautiful summer tones chime over the snappy drums.

 

 

Songs like this, "L'île aux bleuets," and "Rue du Repos" sound like a nice little string of luck.

The French pop "Rue du Repos" streams up-tempo rhythms and jangly jazz-inflected chords tinted in echo and reverb. The solid bass shifts its weight with ease to Trottier-Rivard's mellow vocal. The song is a sparrow's dust bath.

"Feu de garde" is available on Secret City Records.

something about last year's album from Plants and Animals, "The Jungle"

 

Here is an album that did not get enough attention last year—The Jungle, by Plants and Animals. It was released in October 2020 and is Plants and Animals’ fifth studio album and first in four years. The Montreal indie-rock band broke through with its 2008 album, Parc Avenue, which featured the glorious kiss off, “Bye, Bye, Bye.” But coverage of subsequent albums dwindled. High-profile music site Pitchfork had reviewed every Plants and Animals album since 2008, but not this one. I do not know why: the band self-produces wonderful, beautiful-sounding records, and The Jungle is no exception.

 

The title track features a restless bass and head-nodding beat. Plants and Animals has always captured this kind of nervous cool. The last 90 seconds jams out. The song sounds casual, but that belies its precision. The good ones can make it sound easy. Then comes “Love That Boy” with its acoustic layers, electric guitar shimmering out alien, submerged little notes, and trippy, translucent lyrics: “Is the moon following us? Is it moving at exactly the same speed? All experience connected, holding on its fingertips.” The floaty sounds complement the tight drumming and loudly churning bass.

 

What follows are the album’s best parts. “House on Fire” is fucking great. The hi-hat riding atop a throbbing, plucky bass; the synthesizer that comes in at 51 seconds like the air horn on a semi-trailer truck; the programmed synthesizer that darts through scales; and then the verse—delivered with ebullient focus and clarity: “Your house is burning—your home is on fire!”

 

Plants and Animals capitalize on that intensity with “Sacrifice.” This song includes sudden rhythm changes. Insistent tom drums and gained-up guitar hack away through several chippy bars in the verse, then chords splish as the singer implores, “Hold on to yourself / Don't you want to die?” Then the song abruptly downshifts into a dependency-shedding chorus: “I gave you the best years of my life, volunteered on your behalf / sacrifice—it doesn't matter—for dopamine and lots of laughs.”

 

A cassette tape that sounds like it was left in the car all summer plays a recording of an acoustic guitar picking out a chord. Jangly, slightly warped. That is “Get My Mind.” At 21 seconds, the hi-hat opens up, the drummer raps on the snare, and the music tumbles into a song. A guitar slices off a thick, fuzzy riff of single, heavy notes, and the arrangement builds into a spiritual experience.

 

And it is here that The Jungle pulls back. “Le Queens” steams. A woman sings, “Sous les lumières dans le Queens / Tu t'embrasse avec moi / Ton visage blanche sous les fars / Pour la premiere fois”; then a switch to English: “Baby, don't you laugh ‘cause hearts get broke like that.” On “In Your Eyes,” a heavy phaser with subtle wah-wah effect produces underwater tones. And then the finale: “Bold” walks in quietly. But at the chorus, it cries out for your attention: “Waiting for you to be more bold / The drama rising, running out of time / Okay, what's next?” I first heard The Jungle two months ago. I have listened to it over and over, and I know what is next. I will return to The Jungle as time runs out.

 

 

 

 

"Good Friend" by Plants and Animals

"Good Friend"
  by Plants and Animals

I wanna give, I wanna give,
I want to give everything up for grabs.
I wanna say, I wanna say,
I wanna say all the little things.
I wanna make, I wanna make,
I wanna make all of the good times.
I want to shake, I want to shake, I want to shake,
I want to shake your hand.

But what I really want to do is dance.
I wanna dance. I wanna dance. I wanna dance. I wanna dance.
I wanna dance. I wanna dance. I wanna dance. I wanna dance.
I wanna dance. I wanna dance.

I wanna feel, I wanna feel,
I want to feel lake water.
I wanna think, I wanna think, I wanna think,
Oh, man, I want to think something fine.
I wanna take, I wanna take,
I want to such a long long time.
I wanna wake, I wanna wake,
I want to wake up and see your shoes in the stairwell.

It takes a good friend to say you've got your head up your ass.
It takes a good friend to meet you in the park in the dark.
It takes an enemy to help you get out of bed.
It takes your lover to leave you, to feel loneliness.

I wanna dance. I wanna dance. I wanna dance. I wanna dance.
I wanna dance. I wanna dance. I wanna dance. I wanna dance.
I wanna dance. I wanna dance.

I want you, I want you, I want you, I want you to sew a button on my shirt.
I want you, I want you, I want you, I want you to come home.
I want you, I want you, I want you, I want you to help us out.
I want you, I want you, I want you, I want you only to love me for my black eyes.

It takes a good friend to say you've got your head up your ass.
It takes a good friend to meet you in the park in the dark.
It takes and enemy to help you get out of bed.
It takes your lover to leave you, to feel loneliness.