With any luck, L’ile de Sept Villes will rocket Canadian supergroup The Hylozoists to previously unthinkable heights of popularity. Not because the album is amazing, but because the band’s grandiose, orchestrated indie rock instrumentals would sound absolutely monumental late at night at some gigantic, outdoor summer festival.
Some of this potential magic, however, is absent when the music comes through a pair of speakers in a suburban living room. The vibraphone and violin stabs of “Bras d’Or Lakes,” as spooky as they are, would be so much spookier outside in a field somewhere, surrounded by exhausted festival-goers. The steady build of “Your Band Doesn’t Have the Legs I Thought it Would” from a mournful violin to a peppy explosion of bells would be epic with the stars shining overhead and a cool breeze working its way through the crowd.
It’s not really fair to criticize a band for releasing a good album that would sound incredible delivered in another fashion. Make no mistake, The Hylozoists’ latest is a fine offering, it’s just a shame that it might never be heard in its optimal setting.
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