The Automatik

In a 1997 interview, Sloan’s Chris Murphy jokingly apprised each member of the band:

It kind of becomes like, Andrew is the brooding one, Patrick is the metalhead-slash-sensitive guy, I’m the wall-to-wall bridges guy with no choruses, and Jay’s the cute, heart-wrenching, adorable one.

Although they’ve never succumbed to these stereotypes, Sloan’s last two albums have stumbled in an attempt to evolve and come to terms with the debt owed to their influences, as well as the indie rock crowd that made them unlikely heroes. It’s been easy to see where they were coming from, but figuring out where they were headed was a challenge.

Sloan’s newest release, Never Hear the End of It, finds them still fighting the good fight, albeit older and wiser. Don’t be alarmed by the track listing of thirty songs; many are brief interludes that attempt to destroy a download-friendly world while creating a remarkable album.

While Pretty Together and Action Pact opened with big rockers, “Flying High Again” is more humble, with all four members sharing vocals, as well as a take-it-or-leave-it attitude towards the band’s longevity.

“Sooner or later we’ll be singing for free,” Ferguson speculates in “Right or Wrong,” another cynical observation on the band’s trajectory. One might think Sloan devoting this much attention to their careers is just calculated navel-gazing. Yet considering the band’s history spans more than fifteen years and is such an integral part of the members’ lives, it’s more relevant than anything else.

Ferguson’s other contributions, like the rousing “Who Taught You To Live Like That?” and the divine “Can’t You Figure It Out?” are as good as, if not better, than anything he’s written before. Musically, he has often compensated for the inadequacies of his band mates’ missteps. However, here his vocals (and lyrics) have a strength and urgency unparalleled in his other songs.

Drummer Andrew Scott was mostly absent on Action Pact; the demands of fatherhood took up much of his time. Hearing these new songs I realize how much I missed him. “I’ve Gotta Try” and “Blackout” are excellent, with soaring harmonies, catchy choruses, and heavy guitar.

If Scott’s songs have any weaknesses, it’s that no one knows what the hell he’s singing about. “Love is All Around,” however, is superb, more emotionally compelling than anything he’s ever done. “I Know You” is an extraordinary tune about the future with a nod to nostalgia: And The Sky’s Gone Out/Was on a record player in the middle of the city/On a song that I never enjoyed/Until I got older.

Regrettably, every album has a weak spot. Here Patrick Pentland provides three. I am of the minority who defended his contributions on Action Pact but there is nothing defensible about these abysmal songs. One can imagine Hilary Duff bleating the insipid lyrics and uninspired melody of “Listen to the Radio” and “I Understand” is a tragic attempt at sensitivity with an overblown ending. “Ill Placed Trust” has an awkward title and lyrics and a bland melody. Fans have speculated that a restraining order should be filed against Pentland on the behalf of power chords, but I know he is capable of using them for good and not evil. It’s unfortunate he has offered us no proof of that here.

In Chris Murphy’s self-evaluation, he only mentioned his song writing style and it’s true; he’s often sacrificed candour for a clever pun. Recently, however, he has tried to break from his mold, resulting in a few travesties as well as triumphs. His latest offerings are nothing short of amazing. From the late 70s AM radio sounds of “Everybody Wants You” and “Will I Belong?” to the pop mastery of “Set in Motion,” Murphy more than proves himself, with a range of styles that is nearly dizzying.

In “Someone I Can Be True With” he channels Difford and Tilbrook and breaks our hearts with sentiments both human and clever. Ditto for the gentle introspection of “It’s Not the End of the World.” He shifts gears completely with the masculine, Led Zeppelin groove of “People Think They Know Me,” perhaps the closest to angry he has ever been in a song. It sounds like a middle finger to those who dismiss him as a shallow, philandering fool with his best years behind him, but at the risk of pissing him off, I won’t comment further. The rhythm section of “Another Way I Could Do It” is on fire. Put simply, it rocks.

There is also the astonishing “Fading Into Obscurity,” with its McCartney-esque shifts in tone and tempo. “Sometimes what’s not to love, but then other times what’s to like?” he questions and it’s so close to the bone it hurts to hear him sing it, but he softens the blow with a most engaging melody.

While that song will likely receive much (well-deserved) attention, in many ways “Live the Life You’re Dreaming Of” is better. Here, Murphy considers not only his weaknesses but also how they might affect someone else’s life. It’s an honest and beautiful song with breathtaking vocals that makes me misty-eyed. Ladies and gentlemen, I think Chris Murphy’s grown up.

In the last few years, Sloan’s fan demographic reminds me of Matthew McConaughey’s character in Dazed and Confused: I get older, they stay the same age. So will this segment of their fan base feel the impact of these songs? After all, some of the band members have kids of their own and are rapidly approaching forty. They can no longer rely on wisecracks, mic stand licks, and general jackassery to carry them through.

Older fans, on the other hand, have complained about their last few albums, pining for the days of Twice Removed and Navy Blues. Like it or not, Never Hear the End of It is the Sloan sound: their unique stamp, their influences, warts, and all. The sad irony of this is that Sloan may have outgrown their fans at a time when they deserve recognition more than ever.