One Fresh Spin, One Old Gem

By Marc Stephens

Fresh Spin

Artist: Fancey

Album: Schmancey

Released: Nov. 13, 2007

Label: What Are Records

Verdict: ’70s Gold

A wise old music commentator once postulated that the term “originality” actually has two applicable connotations: the lofty one (something nobody has ever done before) and the more realistic one (something no one else at this moment is doing). If, as the prophet said, there is indeed “nothing new under the sun,” then I suppose we 21st century rock mavens will just have to settle for definition No. 2. And while most every delectable lick on Todd Fancey’s second solo release has certainly been attempted before — if rarely so well — when it comes to “of the moment” indie originality, this former New Pornographer stands entirely alone.

Brandishing the most gorgeous high-wire harmonies of this or any other year, Schmancey is a living, breathing time capsule — a trip back to the heyday of early ’70s Todd Rundgren-style saccharine overdose. But then again, who in his right mind has ever complained about having too much of the sweet stuff? Certainly not me. Nobody, but nobody, makes records like this anymore — the kind of joyous pop music you might hear on a carnival calliope or aboard a camp school bus circa 1975. Put this on and watch skies clear, birds sing and that special someone inexplicably melt into your arms; Schmancey’s harmonies and effervescent electric piano are just that darn persuasive. Honestly, the entire album is pretty much one extended highlight, with “Bitter Life,” “Downtown II” and “Lost in Twilight” incorporating three of the most stunning vocal sequences I have ever heard — ever. Which raises a single overarching question: Can Mr. Fancey possibly be this happy? Can anyone?

Old Gem

Artist: Shack

Album: On the Corner of Miles and Gil

Released: June 27, 2006

Label: Sour Mash

Verdict: Indie rock’s most accessible side

Shack and lead progenitor Mick Head have been around in one form or another for just about forever, it seems — from the aching sophisticated pop of the Pale Fountains (1981), to the beginnings of his collaboration with brother John in Shack (1988), to this mini-masterpiece of soft-edged, chamber-style indie rock. A band with that kind of pedigree would normally have faded into obscurity by now, and with good reason. With age often comes irrelevance, at least in the musical sense; few artists are still able to deliver any lasting impression once youthful angst has fled and the ennui of middle age sets in. (For the essential exception to this rule, see Pollard, Robert.) Which is what makes On the Corner of Miles and Gil such a delight — no one born before 1960 has any business making a rock record this good, this vibrant, so comparatively late in life.

Much like the ubiquitously prolific Pernice Brothers, Shack creates melodic music for discriminating adults, except that the Head brothers tend to impart an electric kick the former seldom do. It’s difficult to listen to a typically riveting and handsome song like “Butterfly” or “Cup of Tea” and not think back on Tears for Fears’ meticulous mastery of the Beatlesque pop gem way back when. When Shack cuts loose, as on the gripping coda to the Who-tinged “Black and White,” they do so with more swagger than most any other chamber band I can think of. And in their softer moments, Shack strongly recalls the Pearlfishers or recent Divine Comedy, mingled perhaps with the moody ruminating style of Stephen Duffy’s Lilac Time — though it pays to remember that, alongside the ageless Mr. Duffy, Mick was here before any of them.