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Over the past few years, Canadian bands have taken complete and utter control of America's indie scene. Bands like Wolf Parade, Broken Social Scene, and the Arcade Fire have raised the creative bar time and time again. And, while every bubble has to eventually burst, our northern neighbors don't seem to be slowing down: the Junior Boys are one of the country's most talented exports yet.
The only two things that most people know (or seem to say) about the Junior Boys is that they're Canadian and that they have a relationship with Timbaland. Of course, some people are beginning to throw an Eno or Kraftwerk comparison in for good measure. No, this band isn't reinventing the wheel, but they certainly succeed in forging their own path. And, as they've begun to mature, making obvious comparisons has begun to border on the offensive. The group is like a teenager who's graduated to the grown-up table: he's outgrown his old man, and it's no longer accurate to call him "Little Jimmy".
As the lights go out, a large sign hanging behind the stage crackles to life. The capital letters burn a bright neon yellow lifted straight from a peep-show storefront. The letters spell out JUNIOR BOYS. As if coming to Gotham and playing in front of a huge neon sign of your band's name isn't enough of a statement, the group ups the ante by pulling off their best Crockett and Tubbs impression: when they stroll out, they're dressed head to toe in white. It is such a sweet James Bond moment that nobody considers penalizing their score card, even if it is past Labor Day.
It's fitting that the group's recently released, gorgeous, dreamy sophomore album is called So This Is Goodbye -- it marks the end of an era and the beginning of a new one. While their debut Last Exit was composed of radio wires with cold metallic insides, the new one possesses a warmer breath. Jeremy Greenspan's voice has taken center stage in place of departed member Johnny Dark's trip-hop stutter beats, and the new pulse couldn't feel more welcoming.
To greet their growing fan base, the band opens with the title track from the new album. The mix sounds more organic than on record, with a touring drummer laying down the rhythm section as arpeggio synths bounce off the walls and the keyboard is looped in heavy reverb. "So This Is Goodbye" focuses on the idea of isolation but approaches the issue from a positive vantage point. Rather than sulk about loneliness, Greenspan is empowered by the limitless possibility that freedom provides. Looking at him, you'd never guess that he is the man who adds the hypnotic element to the band's sound. Even though the song chugs along on the same few chords, it is the inflection with which Greenspan draws out his words and enunciates his syllables that make this the stuff of lovers' ruin.
"Teach Me How to Fight" may be the only song from the group's first album that doesn't sound awkward in light of their evolution. Zipline synthesizers cross the room as the echoes swallow the space like a perfectly placed drum fill. Greenspan begs, "Can you teach me how to fight? /Show me what it's like to give that pain." The song goes out to those who play the role of the disregarded. While some view their silent patience as fortitude, others see it as a limitation. Greenspan words are a last ditch letter of reconciliation that falls on deaf ears before it is even delivered.
The band fumbles in between a few songs to boot up computers and tune instruments. Throughout the evening they interact with the crowd, distinguishing their songs as either "oldies" or "newbies". Greenspan's disposition is that of an MC at an amateur comedy club, but when he closes his eyes to sing, he becomes a romantic leading man.
"FM" ends the evening beautifully. The Junior Boys borrow a page from Yaz's "Only You", and the world of electronic music finally has its prom song. The sequences in the background twinkle like stars on the first cold night of winter. It is the sensation of looking out the window and watching the snow fall quietly. You hear the furnace below your feet clicking on and the heat rising in the room and that sense of stillness feels more comfortable than anything ever has. "One more year becomes one more year/ You will forget me soon I fear," he sings with such sincerity that you begin to make a short list in your head of all the people you need to call just to say hello.
I leave the bar just as the last notes are floating overhead. As my friend and I walk down the street -- he excited by his introduction to the band and I impressed by how sharp their live show has become -- I overhear a person behind me say, "How come Canadians are so much cooler than us?" I turn around and say, "I haven't the slightest clue." The guy looks me in the eye with silent disdain and turns to his friend to speak in hushed tones without acknowledging my comment.
I already have my answer.
— 25 September 2006
