Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Reviews:: Chet Chelsea Silver, Please Come Home

In today’s disposable music world, finding a musician willing to step outside the boundaries that we consider safe has become increasingly rare. With no price tag or predetermined listening format, the concept of a record seems as antiquated or quixotic as the outdated mediums that used to be a listening requirement. Now if the immediacy of a song doesn’t hit with the force of a tidal wave, people click ">>" halfway through a single, followed by a quick "shift + delete".

Trust me; I am not trying to start yet another discussion about the value of art, supporting musicians or adapting to new media. The point I’m trying to make is much more concrete. How we listen to music has drastically impacted the quality of the output. Quite simply put, musicians concerned about selling records have lost the freedom to fuck up. Very few acts are allotted more than the standard three-minutes to make their point. Wordy song titles and extended song lengths are generally met with dismissive wanks and the luxury of the sonic risks required for huge rewards is virtually gone. More importantly, without an audience patient enough to give songs the chance to grow, albums are forced to exist in harmless beauty, allowing critics and fans to try to discern taupe from tan.

So when Victoria-based band Chet leads off their new record - Chelsea Silver, Please Come Home - with a 7-minute, falsetto filled track, it’s pretty obvious that songwriter Ryan Beattie has long since abandoned any delusions of grandeur or dreams of high sales. Instead, he allows himself the liberty of writing songs he loves, knowing there is a greater chance they will be dismissed out of hand than embraced and praised. Slowly and assuredly, The Night, The Night surges, confidently building to the point of climax before schizophrenically breaking down into fragmented chaos and barely audible mumblings. The sonic journey Chet embarks on is not made for the casual traveler and one that begins without an expected destination or outcome. Even before the listener can settle in, Chet places them on unsteady footing and is the first of countless bold decisions that threatens to lose the listener but ultimately reward those willing to stay around.

Over the next seven songs, Ryan continues to explore his deepest thoughts of love and failure, knowing that the results will be disjointed and at times alienating. There are beautiful moments of tenderness, strength and uncertainty, but most importantly, the songs are honest. Even when the band seems secure, like they do on with the surprisingly muscular, straight ahead riff that drives Cautious Melody, what starts as a concise thought that could be hemmed effectively, slowly begins to fray as if the band is pulling on each and every thread until the fabric becomes unrecognizable. Essentially, the record is, for lack of a better description, human. Instead of searching for a formula, it's built from more realistic emotions. When it comes to love and the ghosts that haunt us, the results aren’t laid out in perfect couplets and catchy melodies and even the sweetest notes can turn sour and the most tranquil dream can turn dark.

And it's those thoughts that lead to the unpredictable transitions and challenges – the 13-minute An abiding love despite adversarial vice spirals aimlessly with noise filled tangents and tormented, swirling falsetto vocals before refocusing to deliver a powerful final act - that make you wonder if Beattie (along with his brother Patrick, Megan Boddy of MeatDraw and Thomas Shields and Matt Skillings of Run Chico Run) is daring you to keep listening, daring you to hold on and hope it works out.

Make no mistake, Chelsea Silver, Please Come Home record aims for and achieves staggering heights. I could listen to Saint Jerome, my baby tames lions in an endless loops and still feel the pure emotion coursing through my veins. An abiding love despite adversarial vice grows from a simple, twang filled riff into a confessional of Beattie’s fears and the precious few moments before the darkness set in, but it’s Boddy’s cello and vocals that completely refresh the listen and offer a counterbalance to Beattie’s falsetto. Chet has produced a record that makes me remember how ignorant I am when it comes to writing music (not offhandedly about it) and leaves me feeling nothing but admiration. With treasures hidden deep under layers, each listen provides a new discovery and makes me remember a time when finding a great record was the result of digging, not something that happened four or five times a day.