Teenage Kicks represent a wonderful shift in popular music that’s been happening over the past year—a return to rock ‘n’ roll. Now, I’m not complaining about, nor am I apologizing for, all the non-rock music of recent memory. I’ve loved much of it, but it’s been a while since swagger and guitar solos have been considered cool and it feels good to be able to celebrate them.

It’s the kind of music you feel in your chest, that fills you with energy and power and joy. It’s the stuff that makes me remember being 15 and feeling like rock n’ roll was the only thing keeping me alive, like it was the oxygen in my blood fueling every pulse in my body.

Hell, Teenage Kicks say it better than I could, from their bio:

Their music is like the girl you meet in high school that you end up marrying ten years later. Their songs stay with you, and you grow to love more about them as time goes by. It’s not a backdrop for drunken twenty-somethings awkwardly lusting after each other in dark clubs, but a soundtrack for young hearts finding true love and sharing moments that will stay with them forever. In a nutshell, it’s rock ‘n’ roll.

And on “Lose Your Head” off their upcoming EP Rational Anthems, frontman Peter van Helvoort sells it. He sings like his words are the gospel, like they can and will actually save you—and frankly, I believe him.

I realize I’m about two weeks late in mentioning this, but: Hey everyone, have you heard Matters?!

If you haven’t, you might have heard them under their old moniker The D’Urbervilles, or maybe as front man John O’Regan’s one-man band Diamond Rings. Or maybe it’s all new to you—in which case, lucky you.

Regardless, it’s good to hear new D’Urbs songs even if they don’t exist anymore. Even better is that Matters is sort of this wonderful hybrid animal created by a somewhat incestuous mix of that band and O’Regan’s solo project. A bit of the flash and glam has worked its way in. Their first single “Get In Or Get Out” is out now and it’s a keeper. It’s a pulsing song that sounds like movement–dancing, driving, running–anything really, it’s anything but stagnant.

For a while it looked like Diamond Rings’ success would mean the end of The D’Urbervilles, and in a way maybe it was, but if the rest of the new stuff is as good as this, it looks like Diamond Rings was just the warmup act.

It’s my own fault that I missed their show here in Toronto last week, but that doesn’t mean you have to. With a new single out and an album due this year, there’s no doubt there will be much touring coming up. Please: learn from my mistakes and go see them.

In the meantime, here’s “Get in or Get Out”:

Neil Young has been making records for a long time. The sheer length of his career is a feat in itself, but more impressive than just the fact that he’s been making records for roughly 45 years is that he’s managed to stay dedicated, committed, and inspired for that entire time.

Since the mid 60s he’s been releasing albums to varied levels of acclaim, but while critics might not have loved everything he’s ever done, one thing Neil Young can never be accused of is being boring. There is no on — and I’ll repeat that for emphasis — no one who has maintained the level of quality as Young has while still consistently experimenting and reinventing himself, genre-hopping, and basically just being awesome. So because of that, and because the man took home two Junos last Sunday as well as an honorary award for his humanitarian work, this week on Tuesday Tracks we tip out hat to (in our mind) the Greatest Canadian.

His win could be dismissed as a “career award,” one given for a body of work rather than his most recent album, Le Noise. But the thing is, it actually isn’t.

The Daniel Lanois-produced album is an inspired blend of the two things Neil does better than almost anyone: thoughtful folky songwriting and fuzzy, angry guitar work. Traditionally those sounds have been separate, occupying albums all their own, but here, on Le Noise, they meet. Unlike most of his electric albums, there is no band; just Neil and his guitar. But this time his guitar is plugged in—and it’s loud.

Today’s track, “Hitchhiker,” is basically a folk song with layers and layers of droning, distorted guitar overlaid. It’s a five minute biography starting off in Toronto and following Neil as he makes a name for himself in California and dips into drugs, paranoia and reclusiveness along the way.

Basia Bulat

With all the music and mp3’s swirling around the airwaves and the internet, it’s damn near impossible to hear it all. Even when pared down to the slightly less mindboggling “Can-con only” regime as we do here at Tuesday Tracks, there’s still much too much to give everything a chance. That’s why sometimes you just need to give an artist a pass. Despite rave reviews and recommendations from people you know and trust, sometimes you just need to go ahead and let someone’s career pass you by in order to make room for others. Basia Bulat was one of those artists for me; it had nothing to do with her really, or her music. After all, I’d never heard it. Despite accolades, two incredibly well-received albums and a Juno nomination, she was one of those artists I’d skipped over.

It took an old cover she did of “Someday” by The Strokes on Chromewaves to make me do a bit of a double take. The recording is rough and the arrangement sparse—it’s little more than a playful outtake, really. But that’s also what makes it so great to listen to: it’s less a performance and more just a few friends goofing around. There’s no pretension of it being heard—except these days, there’s so much music swirling around the internet, that pretty much anything can make its way out into circulation. Much of it isn’t really worth listening to—but this one is.

Chances are, even if you did happen to be in Toronto last week for Canadian Music Week, you still probably missed the opportunity to see Ottawa’s The White Wires. Their lone set, at 3 a.m. on a Saturday night, made them an easy act to miss.

It’s unfortunate, because The White Wires are a gritty three-chord beach blanket punk band that is, along with a handful of others, making Ottawa cool.

But don’t fret if you did miss them, either due to their unfortunate time slot or mere proximity, because the sound and energy of their live set is captured almost perfectly on their latest album WWII and one of its many stand-out tracks, “Be True To Your School (Till You Get Kicked Out).”

Despite the unfortunately long title (mostly just a pain for rock journalists who have to type it out), BTTYS(TYGKO) is a refreshingly fun song. It sounds like high school, summer, and good times. It’s a song that begs to be danced to, or at least jumped around to in wild abandon.

The White Wires craft songs in the vein of early punk rockers. Not the safety pinned junkie romantics, but the kind of three-chord enthusiasm that comes from a group of people who are just excited to write songs. The beauty of punk rock, and what made it so wonderful in its infancy, is that anyone can do it. Bands like the Ramones proved that you didn’t need years of practice to write great pop music and as such, you didn’t really need a message either. “Be True To Your School” isn’t weighed down by heady politics or stubborn vitriol and it’s not confessional, but celebrational.

I couldn’t tell you exactly what “Be True To Your School” is about; I imagine it’s something to do with loyalty. But loyalty to one’s self—I think it’s about the fickleness of youth and chasing aspirations and nonsense like that. Things suited to silly teenage dreams. But that’s cool, and the thing is, maybe that’s a good thing to keep close, even when the sun sets on those teenage years.

Maybe we should continue to be true to our school, ourselves, and our principals/principles. It’s easy when you’re young, but it doesn’t hurt to look back every now and then either.

Hooded Fang has long been a favourite here at Tuesday Tracks, not because one of its members — Nick Hune-Brown — used to be an editor here at This Magazine (I’ve never met him), but because their music is just some of the most enjoyable ear candy one can find this side of virtually anywhere.

Because of that, and because I’d like to spend the next couple of weeks highlighting some my favourite acts performing at this year’s Canadian Music Week here in Toronto, I present “Laughing” off their new album, appropriately titled Album.

“Highway Steam” is often pointed to as the stand out track on an album full of standout tracks, but I’ve always been more drawn to “Laughing.” It’s just so…pleasant.

Normally, “pleasant” is kind of a weak word to use when referring to someone or something. It’s not one that comes across as particularly enthusiastic, but that’s not the case here. The song is just so sweet and lovely and well, pleasant, that you just can’t help but grin. It’s not a song to rip you out of your seat and send you to a dance floor, or to put on repeat as you cry into your pillow. It’s the song that, with its everything’s-gonna-be-alright vibe, just makes you smile with quiet serenity.

“Laughing” begins with a bright, cheery xylophone and is then quickly followed by this horn section that is both wonderfully hopeful and slightly melancholic. The contrast of the two sets the mood for a duet of vocals from Daniel Lee and Lorna Wright who sing to each about just being there for one and other—so, so, pleasant!

I first encountered Hooded Fang two years ago at Canadian Music Week. I knew nothing of them, but their name, taken from Mordecai Richler’s book Jacob Two Two Meets the Hooded Fang, had intrigued me. After listening to a handful of MP3’s their music intrigued me even more. It’s this astonishingly vibrant sound full of childlike enthusiasm that is impossible not to fall in love with. So listen to “Laughing” and catch them at Canadian Music Week on March 11, or on their upcoming Canadian tour supporting Rural Alberta Advantage.

In this country we love to talk about the weather. It’s like this guaranteed source of small talk, a go-to topic for filling the gaps in a conversation.  It’s the thing we all have in common, because we all experience it. Whether it’s the unnaturally mild weather of last week, the intense snowfalls we’ve seen, or just casual it’s-not-so-much-heat-but-humidity banter.

No matter what time of year, no matter what situation Mother Nature has put us in, it’s always relevant—especially at this time of year, when things just start to turn towards springtime and people start getting happy again. The cold weather has nearly passed us over for the season. Nearly.

The Luyas‘ new single, “Cold Canada,” pays homage to the fading frigid weather by paying respect to the unstoppable power of our winters. Despite our best efforts, we’re still powerless against the mighty grip of winter and no matter how sophisticated we become, “snow will always win.”

Cpver of the Luyas' new album, Too Beautiful to Work

But as Jessie Stein sings, “we’re going to looooose,” nothing about her voice sounds cold or defeatist. Her declaration isn’t so much a forfeit, but an act of relinquishing power and responsibility. She’s right; snow will always win, so why try to change it? She doesn’t aim to tame the elements, but rather accept the inevitability of them.

There lies the beauty of the song. There’s a calm in Stein’s childlike voice that sounds like someone at peace with the inevitable. And a playfulness that signals the freedom that follows that acceptance. Now that we know we can’t prevent the winter, maybe we can just enjoy it.

As the song chugs along, images of a Rube Goldberg style weather machine comes to mind—perhaps with Stein in the role of the mad scientist trying to harness the power of winter. But of course, as pistons blast and steam shoots out, ultimately the machine backfires. There’s no avoiding a Cold Canada, but come to think of it, why would you want to?

Cover of Young Galaxy's album Shapeshifting

In the front of Camille De Toledo’s essay Coming of Age at the End of History, the author includes a paragraph before his argument begins, that reads:

How long do we have to go on apologizing for being romantics? Why not stop right now? Here. Boom! All of a sudden. Let us make the desert green with lyrical trees and mocking jays. Let us abandon irony and the fear of naiveté. The cliché is not kitsch. It’s merely pretty. So, what do you think?

The text itself deals with the commoditization and dilution of dissent and the effect it has on contemporary youth. The result: Irony and cynicism. But wait! It doesn’t have to be that way. What if we decided to let down our guard? What if we listened to De Toledo and celebrated life for the wonderful gift that it is?

This week’s edition of Tuesday Tracks does just that. “We Have Everything,” the first single off of Young Galaxy’s new album Shapeshifting is a dance-inflected piece of dream pop that is brave enough to be earnest. When vocalist Catherine McCandless sings “I wept when we parted/I wept when we united/in poverty, my love, we have everything,” she does so without the slightest smirk.

But that isn’t to say the song isn’t fun. Yes, Young Galaxy are romantics and unabashedly so. “We Have Everything” is washed in expansive, dramatic layers of synths and drum machines, but beneath it all it’s still pop music, and really good pop music at that. There are certainly a few cringe-worthy lyrics hidden in there—but in a way, that’s why it works. Sincerity shouldn’t come off as slick or cool; in fact it should be a little awkward.

It’s kind of what makes Arcade Fire so special too. For anyone who has seen them live, as wonderful as their music is and spectacular their performances are, despite being in the biggest band on the continent right now, Win Butler just isn’t a cool dude. But that’s good; the fact that he can sell out Madison Square Gardens and still remain a bit of a misfit is exactly what makes them special.

It’s that awkward earnestness that elevates “We Have Everything” as well. The song itself is fairly simple, it’s about appreciating the little things in life and—as the video emphasizes—how fleeting those moments can be. Sometimes it’s nice to be reminded that sentimentality still exists in contemporary culture. I’ll take a heart on a sleeve over a tongue in a cheek any day.

Mother Mother's new single, The Stand

“The Stand” has been referred to as a departure for the band in many early reviews, which is inaccurate. It’s different for sure, but only superficially. What Mother Mother achieved on their previous full length O My Heart is mostly replicated here, but in a good way—bigger and better, growth over departure.

The best thing about O My Heart was that at its best, the songs felt so fully realized and complete it was like the individual sounds couldn’t be separated from the whole, like each piece of the song appeared that way immaculately. Basically, Mother Mother managed to do on that album what many bands spend their entire careers chasing—a unique sound that is decidedly them and entirely complete. That’s not hyperbole. Listen to “Body of Years” off that record and, although it might evoke other genres and reveal influences, it is entirely unique. Not only that, it’s as catchy as all fuck:

“The Stand” is that and more.

“The Stand” adds a level of playfulness that didn’t exist before, a quality that works especially well here because if you really wanted to get into it, the song is really about using booze to numb your frustration with the excesses and arrogances of modern society. Of course you’d never guess from the music, which is in itself a celebration.

The result is a song that’s angsty without being too obvious and infectious to the point the it’s no stretch to imagine a room full of glassy-eyed fans joyously singing along to the chorus:

“I can hardly stand the sight of it all,

I can hardly stand the sound of it all,

I can hardly stand the taste of it all,

I can hardly stand the smell of it all.”

Finally ending with the refrain “Everyone’s fucked and they don’t even know it.”