Jay Smith

This year’s Canadian Music Week was memorable for its surprises and pleasures. Easily overwhelmed by packed schedules, I narrowed my festival picks down to acts I probably wouldn’t get a chance to see again. There was Iceland’s electronic Apparat Organ Quartet, a keyboard-heavy band whose surreal performance swung from fist-pumping metal to Daft Punk–driven electronica. I absolutely loved Pirates Canoe, a gorgeous all-women trio from Japan whose unique version of bluegrass and Americana rivaled anything I heard on a trip to Nashville earlier this spring.

But there was one show that featured some familiar faces I wish I had caught: Matt Mays, with his band, El Torpedo, at the SiriusXM Indie Awards. As it turns out, it was one of the last shows the band would play before guitarist Jay Smith passed away on March 27, while on tour in Edmonton.

Smith’s death hit quick and it hit hard, especially in the tight-knit Nova Scotian music community. It’s a community that knows no borders, as friends across the country reminisced about the shaggy-haired guitarist, a noted and well-loved Cape Breton musician and songwriter who brought a rock ’n’ roll swagger to El Torpedo when he joined the band in 2008.

I remember covering NXNE that summer, and being rammed into a sweaty CBC showcase at the Horseshoe Tavern to see Mays perform. It was like watching the band emerge from a cocoon: the show was steamy, raw and ragged and the crowd loved it. This was rock with a capital R and it still stands as one of my all-time favourite festival shows. That night started as an exhilarating surprise, and now it is also a comforting memory.

It didn’t surprise me when Mays decided to continue the tour after Smith’s death, writing on his Facebook page: “As you can all imagine, we are completely devastated. However, in our heart of hearts we know that we need to Play on. Jay’s family as well as the band know he would have wanted it that way.”

There are four benefit shows scheduled in Halifax this weekend, with Mays, In-Flight Safety, Joel Plaskett and the Emergency, The Stanfields and many others performing. All proceeds go toward supporting Smith’s two young children (Donations can be made at jaysmithtrust.ca).

The events are already sold out, but will be livestreamed here. A second show takes place in Membertou, Cape Breton, on Monday night, featuring Mays once again.

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.

One of the great redeeming aspects of big, multi-day, city-wide music festivals like Canadian Music Week/Fest is the opportunity for discovery.

It’s very rare these days that one gets the opportunity to hear something truly great, for the first time, in a live setting. Generally, if I’m going to a show where I’m unfamiliar with the band I’ll at least check out their Myspace page, if not snag the whole album online prior to the performance to see what they’re like. But in a setting with literally hundreds of bands playing on dozens of stages, where itineraries are changed more often than undergarments, it is an inevitability that you’ll be stumbling in on some unfamiliar territory.

So for this edition of Tuesday Tracks, I’d like to share a few discoveries: performances I saw by sheer chance and loved every moment.

First up: Everything all the Time benefits by being comprised of a selection of this country’s best musicians, with members contributing to Feist, Sarah Harmer, the Hidden Cameras and Jason Collett. Of course, they also benefit from having one of the most swoon-worthy voices fronting them ever put to tape. But hyperbole aside, don’t be fooled by the precious voice you hear on “Lazy Days” below, Alanna Stuart’s voice is as powerful as it is versatile.

Secondly: Dan Mangan shares a lot with another troubadour from the west, Chad VanGaalen. Both employ unconventional subject matter in their songwriting, but where VanGaalen swerves to the absurd Mangan stays sure footed. When Mangan sings “Robots need love too, they want to be loved by you,” there is such an earnestness in his voice that you take him seriously.

Finally: Parlovr (pretend the “v” is a “u” when you say it) was perhaps my favourite surprise at CMW/F. Hailing from Montreal, they’ve forgone the eight-plus member standard the city has become known for in its band output and culled a trio with a violent and aspirational stage presence.

Even without an extended back up, the simple guitar, keyboard, drum structure creates enormous, passionate music. Parlovr sing, scream and whisper their magnetic affirmations both to and from the crowd. The wonderful, sobering element to their performance is that amongst all the sloppy pop they mash out, it’s impossible to miss the genuine adoration and excitement painted all over their faces. Even in a tiny club, playing for 30 people, they’re living the dream.