His pictures remake our ordinary lives as sites of tenderness, care, and pattern. But he draws eensy-weensy windows, microscopic portholes into the world we already dwell in. I'm not sure if Aaron has a magnifying glass, or large eyes, or just very small fingers. This tiny illustration was drawn by the English artist Aaron Sewards. It makes you long for either a magnifying glass or a larger pair of eyes.
And above the couch in the living-room where Jasper & Franklin & Neale & Raffi play, there's a little framed drawing. Jasper & Franklin most of the time tolerate the presence of my friends Neale and Raffi. There's a lovely Montreal apartment where two cats live. There's a glissando at 0:42 as he sings the word "wholly" and that alone would be reason to share this track with you.Īaron Sewards is the only guest-artist I've ever discovered in a friend's living-room.
Garneau sings pretty, sings angry, sings playful, and in each of these modes he's a virtuoso, stirring any listener willing to be stirred. "Love Zombies" is serious without being humourless, funny without being gutless. His voice is often a shadowplay, holding up silhouettes of Antony, Regina Spektor, Sufjan Stevens, yet there's something much more robust in it than that turn the lights on and his unique shadow would be there, flickering blue like a gas-lamp. It's probably the first great song he's recorded since the sublime "Not Nice" (mp3 here), but "Love Zombies" shows once again why I put faith in Chris Garneau why I hold onto the conviction that this guy may one day record a masterpiece LP. I'm very nervous to recommend any song with "zombies" in the title, particularly if the meaning is semi-literal, but here I am, smitten. Art didn't redeem the hardships of 2007: but it was there with him, yes, as he pushed on through them.Ĭhris Garneau - "Love Zombies". I know everyone in the world has been through the exact same situation, maybe more than once, but this was the first for me, and man was it fucking awful. I remember the day after everything went down, I somehow made the connection in my mind with the song, and although I knew it would be too painful to listen to, I couldn’t get it out of my head with a crowbar if I tried. Sooner or later you're going to dance on over onto the right person's toes, or into the right person's arms, or just in a circle of friends so dear that the sparks in their eyes are all the light you need and you'll not be searching for lighthouses any more: you'll have found the shore.Ībby writes, no, sings?, beautifully about Okkervil River's "Unless It's Kicks".Įric Marathonpacks talks about favourite albums of the year, but the thing that glints & gleams is the way his words on Spoon & LCD Soundsystem become a canvas for his heart's particular beat. But as Patrick Wolf shouts: "HEY!" Because somersaulting into a new morning, a new month, a new year, dancing even the same steps to the same songs, there's newness waiting there's happiness there may even be bliss. It's a song of relentless repetition - in handclap and major scales and ever-thumping drums and the sky-seizing yip of fiddle. What matters: the joyfulness of the over-and-over, the splendour of the start-and-restart. The best so far of the things I missed, and a song I hope you're able to take with you into two oh oh eight. Instead it's the sound of something being dislodged, of spirits finding an opening, of the doors of your life coming unstuck.
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And when the champagne pops, the thing to remember is that this is not your year's punctuation - the period at the end of 2007, your momentum's full stop. Or the sky should be clear as a lens, and dark as a friend holding her hand over your eyes. He asks: "What did you learn?" And answers: "Girls are great / grated on my plate / and boys are best / served / with a stake through the chest." It doesn't sound like he had a very good year, no, and like I said it's raining.
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