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Wednesday, October 8 - Wednesday, October 8
More in: Rock / Pop
A career as a professional musician can often be very frustrating. Yes, this is somewhat of a sweeping statement, but getting one’s feet off the ground in music takes long hours, little sleep, lots of coffee and luck. Talent plays a factor, but not always, as many terrible bands succeed while other brilliant ones fail. Without a day job and steady paycheque, coming up with the rent or bus fare often makes it challenging to soldier on with music, even if the commitment level is high.
This is what bothered Max Turnbull, otherwise known as Slim Twig. He was without a band, money or proper label backing last year, struggling in the indie circuit in Toronto to get anyone to notice him. Instead of quitting, he hunkered down and decided to do everything himself, using a makeshift setup and borrowed equipment to record, fund and produce a new EP, entitled Vernacular Violence. At that point, Paper Bag Records, home to Laura Barrett and Tokyo Police Club, stumbled upon the record and signed Turnbull. Things are now looking up.
Paper Bag has spread Turnbull’s message across Canada, unearthing one of Canada’s most eccentric and unique songwriting talents. Somehow blending lo-fi electronica and haunting alternative country and folk, Vernacular Violence manages to create its own genre, a frighteningly good mash-up of dance and country. Hip hop is loosely injected through the lyrics, creating a monster that borrows as much from Elliott Brood as it does from Röyksopp, Woody Guthrie and Kool Keith. He croons, he wails and flutters, aggressive, jagged beats behind it all. It’s bewildering.
“I like taking that kind of crooner attitude and juxtaposing it with harsher sounds,” explains Turnbull. “To me, it’s more of an experimental take on pop songs. Yet, there isn't really a specific theme to the record. I think one thing that unifies the record is the lyrics, as they are all violent in some way. I chose the title because the lyrics all came from particular visions of violence that I had, specific to my own fascinations or fears. I have an obsession with dark imagery, and am terrified and fascinated by acts of violence that we commit against one another.”
Violence aside, the EP is a palatable set of pop songs. Like The Delgados or Nick Cave, it’s not until you dig below the surface that the songs start to disturb. Vernacular Violence hasn’t won over everyone, but nothing ever does; Turnbull is more than happy with the reception.
“People either love it, are excited by its playful and experimental leanings, or are kind of terrified by it and don't know how to place it,” says Turnbull. “While I'm not yet sure how I feel about being a divisive artist, I appreciate that my music can't be patently dismissed as just one thing. There can't only be one take on it, which to me suggests a certain amount of depth — or at least I hope it does.”
If this description hasn’t scared you off, then Slim Twig may be your favourite new artist. Eccentric, witty and evocative, but never overwrought or over-serious, Turnbull innately understands how to create complex music that’s simple to enjoy.
