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Much
has been written of Chad Vangaalen as a basement genius, alone
with his electronics and homemade instruments, somewhere in
the unknown, sprawling riches of Calgary, Alberta. But the often
solitary nature of its creation should not indicate that this
is the work of a reclusive spirit. This is not an art of withdrawal.
As Chad has famously demonstrated on Canadian television (ZED
TV), where he was seen drawing while riding a bicycle, he is
one well-attuned to his surroundings. It is an act of balance
and grace, yet an action comfortable with the possibility of
disaster and harm, a potentially violent encounter between creativity
and the world. Free spirits of the world describe this state
as the sweet spot. Those not embarrassed by such words might
describe it as play.
It is the same responsive spirit that drives all of Chad Vangaalen's
art. Graduate of the Alberta College of Art, Chad is renowned
for his animations and illustrations, widely seen in the rapidly
morphing, birthing, self-generating and self-consuming imagery
in the video for his hit '"Clinically Dead" from 2005's
Infiniheart. That record, originally compiled from hundreds
of home recordings by the Canadian independent Flemish Eye,
and then released worldwide by the mighty Sub Pop Records, displayed
a great willingness to improvise with sounds and styles. Cripple
Creek shuffles, broken machinery dances, and high lonesome yearnings
all shared the acclaim of such critical standards as The Guardian,
MOJO, NME, Exclaim!, and Entertainment Weekly. Chad was soon
appearing on MTV2 and Much Music, and on stage with such renowned
independent rock acts as the Pixies, Wolf Parade, Built to Spill,
the Weakerthans, Julie Doiron, Rogue Wave, and the Constantines.
Where before the music existed primarily in the personal zeitgeist
of its own creation and passed quietly among enthusiastic fans,
now a new context was apparent: live performance in the rock
clubs of the world. Performed with an ever-shifting lineup of
supporting musicians, often eagerly recruited from an expanding
network of friends and tour mates, the songs were continuously
reinvented, rearranged, and remade, in response to the particular
possibilities of the moment.
Importantly, new songs were written with this environment in
mind, and, again, it was a catalogue shocking in its extent.
A vein of anthemic rock and roll was discovered and mined. An
album's worth of futuristic dances was recorded with prepared
piano and drum. Broken violins confessed their sonic dreams
and offered soundtrack for the lonesome anxiety that all is
amiss. But always these strange elements came together and declared
themselves confidently as pop music. You can hear it in the
Modern Lovers drive of "Burn to Ash," in the fluid
sway of "Red Hot Drops," in the desperate rush of
"Flower Gardens," in the surprising lift of "Dead
Ends," in the tender shuffle of "Graveyard."
It's as if the presence of an audience offered new opportunities
for creativity, something new to play with.
Now, with 15 songs selected from this recent library, Chad VanGaalen
has returned with Skelliconnection. It's a tight, exciting record:
a record of liquid fear, of joy and wonder; a record of rising
suns and final swells; a great, strange, pop record, one for
the many ears. Recording by himself and performing nearly all
the instruments on the album, Skelliconnection remains a highly
personal voice, but one singing to the world outside. One foot
out of the basement, summer 2006.
—Steve Lambke, Toronto, May 2006 |
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