CD: The Land Is Wild

Ah, the solo album. You can’t really have one in the traditional sense unless you’ve spent some time in an established band, thereby ensuring that  you’ll never be able to objectively release any music ever again without bearing the crushing weight of its legacy. So how did Dave Bidini, one of the founders and three primary singer/songwriters of the Rheostatics (“one of Canada’s most influential and most unconventional rock bands” – who amicably went their separate ways in 2007), manage to keep it fresh on his first official full length? Read on, friends.

Dave is a bit of a unique case in that he’s been a successful published author since the late 90’s (8 books and counting – For Those About to Rock being a nice little intro to his style and personality and Around the World in 57½ Gigs and On A Cold Road being pithier next steps) – so he has a large and very legitimate body of work outside of the music that first brought him to prominence. That’s one reason why, with his latest recording “The Land Is Wild” with his newly minted Bidiniband, you don’t really get this feeling of listening to an unsteady bird that has flown the coop to attempt his own “Jazz Odyssey” – but rather one of listening to an artist creating something that is a more concentrated extension of various strengths and past lives.

Don’t get me wrong, one of the initial fascinations with this recording was listening to the subtle musical signatures that highlight Dave’s unique contributions to the Rheostatics sound – a bit like musical archaeology with plenty of “a-ha!” for all. But then I started to focus on what I would say is the Dylanesque approach to this particular set – the stories and the words are the main focus here (always a strength), and the music is more the vehicle. Almost all of the sounds found here are organic, the musicianship tasteful and uncomplicated, and the production aiming almost exclusively at creating maybe not a living-room atmosphere, but certainly one of intimacy that lets the songs themselves take center stage. This is in keeping with Dave’s one-man-with-a-guitar troubadour adventures as of late, relating  non-fictional stories like that of the demise of hockey player Bryan Fogarty (the epic title track), fictional ones like that of a rock band getting stranded on a desert island and having to eat their drummer (“Desert Island Poem”), and social commentaries like “Last Good Cigarette”.

An absorbing release that isn’t out to burn down or disavow a proud legacy, but isn’t content to ride on any coattails either. Truly, another intriguing step by a Canadian original – veering off the already virgin path cut by the Rheostatics into a fresh, waste-deep blanket of snow.