According to some, You Need a Heart To Live is a teaser EP for a forthcoming full-length from Glory Glory. Of course, considering said people were saying that the album was supposed to be out sometime in Fall 2011, and that that target date has come and gone, I don't know what happened -- if the band decided to just polish things a little more, or if they thought a major rework was needed, or if their label just decided they needed more time to give it a marketing push.

What I do know, however, is that if You Need a Heart To Live is truly indicative of the rest of the full-length's quality, they need to release the thing post-haste. The three songs here all echo Bends-era Radiohead, with their ringing guitars and impressive vocals. Obviously, I don't want to say that they're quite at Radiohead's level in terms of quality, since that kind of burden is too much for any band...but at the same time, songs like "Wild Swans" and "Little By Little" are pretty awesome. Whether or not that awesomeness carries over to their full-length remains to be seen, but if You Need A Heart To Live is any indication, it'll definitely be an album worth hearing.

I've been trying to come up with a good way to describe Racoon Bandit's full-length debut, Into The Hills, for months now. It hasn't been easy -- while I've certainly heard acts that are a little more difficult to categorize, I don't think I've heard a band with so many diverse sounds describe themselves as a "folk-rock outfit". It's kind of perverse in this way; whereas most folk-rock bands go to extraordinary lengths in their official bios to make themselves sound like something more than they are, Racoon Bandit have taken a simple, straightforward term and applied it to a sound that's anything but.

That's in no way a criticism, of course. Into The Hills is a fun listen precisely because you never know exactly what will be coming next. It starts off with a straightforward folk song ("Wooly Toque"), but from there it winds through all kinds of different genres: psychedelic pop ("Steel Rail") leads sits alongside country-rock (I'm On Fire"), occasionally in the same song ("Get Off"). Sometimes Racoon Bandit race through some old school rock'n'roll ("Silver Bullet"), other times they give songs space to breathe as they create slow-burning epics ("Hard Drive"). In fact, all you need to really need to know about Into The Hills can be contained in this fact: it starts off with a folk song, and ends up with crackly electro-pop ("Loose Lips"), and somehow the journey from Point A to Point B makes perfect sense.

The fact that Into The Hills came out ten months ago should tell you something about how long it took me to accept that, rather than trying to fit it neatly into one slot. I'd advise you not to make the same mistake: just listen to Into The Hills, and be ready for whatever happens to come your way.

The key to fully enjoying Nkazi, the debut EP from Panther & The Supafly, is not being afraid to use the "skip" button on your music player of choice. For example, while the opening track, "Intro", does a decent job of setting the tone for the album, if you listen to Nkazi more than once, there's really no need to revisit it. Even more importantly, you'll always want to jump right over the fourth track, "Garrett Fink Chronicles"; it's an annoying skit right in the middle of the album, and the only purpose it serves is to break up the nice groove created by the preceding two songs. And to round things out, unless you're the type of person who uses the phrase "420" regularly, you'll probably want to skip "Chronicles".

Now, this means that of the EP's seven tracks, you'll only want to hear four of them. Luckily (for Panther & The Supafly and listeners alike), those remaining four songs are pretty outstanding. Three of them -- "Swaggapuff", "Diamond in the African Rough" and "Nightmare" -- are glorious mixes of soul, funk, rock, jazz and world music, throwing together styles with so much enthusiasm that it's impossible not to be swept up by what they're doing. At the opposite end of the energy spectrum, "Black Angel" shows that the band loses nothing of their excitement even when they slow things down. Couple the great songs with the fact that it's available on a Pay What You Can basis, and that makes Nkazi well worth a listen.

To say that my expectations for The Sonic Defense's full-length debut, Upside of Down, were low would be putting it mildly; the more accurate description would probably be "non-existent". After all, to be painfully blunt, they were absolutely awful the one time I saw them live (a sentiment probably shared by the band, seeing as one of their members apparently quit immediately after the show), so I wasn't expectating much of anything when I started listening to the record.

Saying that Upside of Down exceeded those extraordinarily modest expectations doesn't mean all that much then. That said, I'm still impressed by just how much it exceeds those expectations, so much so that I'd even describe the album as "good", rather than merely "not awful". Frontman Rob Boudreau has clearly put a lot of time and effort into coming up with a sound that's all his own, and, as songs like "Stupid Jobs" and "Indie Rock Boys" show, it's something he more or less succeeded at. If I were to really nitpick, I might say that it's a sound that's very much indebted to MuchMusic-circa-1998 or so (think Treble Charger, in particular), but that's only a minor quibble -- after all, with their deadpan vocals and a sound that's the definition of "pop-rock", it's something that suits them perfectly. All in all, The Sonic Defense have come up with a debut that they can be proud of...and, seemingly against all odds, one that's well worth your time, too.

Sick Friend, Draft Dodger (Bird & Flag)

WHO
Weird-pop duo from Montreal.

DISCOGRAPHY
Draft Dodger (Bird & Flag, 2012)

IN A NUTSHELL
Like Sunset Rubdown or Josh Reichmann, Sick Friend specialize in making slightly strange music incredibly, addictively listenable.

THE STORY
I might be doing Sick Friend a huge disservice by calling them "weird pop". I mean, in the big scheme of things, compared to genuinely avant-garde stuff, what they do -- fuzzy guitar and bassy synth riffs -- isn't all that strange. Not like what you'd find on the radio, of course, but they could certainly be a lot weirder. (Of course, if they were, I probably wouldn't find them nearly as enjoyable.)

The better comparison, at least going by debut album Draft Dodger, might be to acts like Sunset Rubdown and Josh Reichmann. Like those artists, Sick Friend specialize in music that's a little bit off-kilter, but not to the point of distraction. In addition, the comparison isn't hurt by the fact that frontman Michael O'Brien has a hiccuping vocal style that's similar to both Reichmann and Spencer Krug.

In fact, it's also not hurt by the fact that O'Brien and Geordie Kingsbury's music is pretty much on par with what both Reichmann and Krug are producing. All nine songs on Draft Dodger, from opener "Cottages" to closing track "Millionth Night", are outstanding. The duo does a great job of coming up with catchy, simple riffs, skewing them just enough to give them a distinctive personality, and then moving on to the next track. There's no fluff, no pointless tangents, no wasted moments: Draft Dodger is just 21 minutes of very good music.

I can't think of many albums that set the tone better than Tuco, the most recent offering from Ox. Right off the bat, they start things off with a cover of Neil Young's "Out On The Weekend", and that tells you everything you need to know about the album.

Okay, maybe not everything, but pretty close to it. In that one song, you can hear that the band has an affinity for tuneful, slightly ragged, '70s-influenced country rock. Then, over the next thirteen tracks, they proceed to show their love of said style over and over again.

I realize that sounds a little negative, but it's not meant to be that in any way. It's simply a statement of fact; just listen to songs like "What I Love About Cars", or "Nico", or "Rock And Roller", and you'll hear Ox being distinctly Neil Young-like in their sound.

And why not? It's something they're pretty good at pulling off. Tuco may not be earth-shattering or anything, but it's a pretty solid record from top to bottom, and well worth your time if you're searching for some old fashioned country rock.

I take a bit of pride in generally ignoring the press kits that accompany albums, but every so often I see why they could be considered useful. For example, I didn't pay much attention to All Of It Was Mine, the most recent album from The Weather Station, for the simple reason that, as far as I knew, they were still a "sister band" to Entire Cities. While that might've been a huge point in The Weather Station's favour at one point, after the massive disappointment that was the last EC album, I wasn't particularly motivated to check in on something that reminded me of that particular scene.

Of course, if I'd read their bio, I'd have known that this version of The Weather Station is an altogether different beast. It's now basically just Tamara Lindeman, getting a bit of help from Daniel Romano and Bruce Peninsula's Misha Bower. And really, going by All Of It Was Mine, it's pretty clear that Lindeman doesn't need much help. She no longer has a wisp of a voice; as songs like "Trying" and "Nobody" show, while her vocals still have an ethereal quality, she's also learned how to give them a little more forcefulness.

At the same time, she's also made huge strides in crafting more interesting melodies. I don't know whether this can be attributed to Romano's presence as producer or simply because Lindeman herself has matured, but whatever the reason, the songs on All Of It Was Mine are significantly more memorable than anything that was on the first two Weather Station albums. It all adds up to make an album that's well worth hearing -- and one that I'm kicking myself for not having raved about sooner.

Sad news for anyone (which is to say, me) who was hoping that Behind Sapphire's follow-up to their self-titled debut would continue on in that first album's sunny, jam band-y vein: they've grown a lot darker. While Diamonds' title track may have some of the laidback breeziness that I loved so much, every song other than that one has a definite edge to it.

All things are relative, of course; what classifies as "edgy" for Behind Sapphire would probably qualify as irrepressibly upbeat for most bands. But still, compared to, say, "Big Steps" (my " favourite track from their debut), songs like "Vancouver, Baby" and "Coconut Highways" could practically be called punk-tinged.

Is the change for the better? Well...no. But it's not for worse, either. It's more of a lateral move, if anything. And thankfully -- for both Behind Sapphire and listeners -- they were talented enough in the first place that a lateral move is good news, too. They may not have replicated the sunny vibes of their debut, but they showed that their knack for writing enjoyable pop songs exists regardless of the specific form it takes. That's more than enough to make Diamonds worth your time and a (free!) download.

It's been awhile since I last wrote about Gregory Pepper -- five years ago tomorrow, to be precise. While he hasn't been up to that much since then, he has released some music, and considering how good his first two albums were, I suspect I missed out on at least one strong album of the year contender.

In fact, I can say for certain that I missed one last year: The Great Repression, which he released as Common Grackle. Much like the other two Pepper albums that I've heard, it's full of incredibly catchy pop music. The key difference this time around, however, is that where those albums leaned heavily on the likes of Neutral Milk Hotel and Islands for inspiration, The Great Repression draws from a significantly larger pool of inspiration. Tracks like "Safe Word Play", "Thank God It's Monday" and "Purgatory Rock and Roll" (among others) all show that Pepper is more than capable of expanding beyond the usual parameters of "indie pop", and bringing in influences from rockabilly, country, show tunes and folk music, among other things. He's always been a gifted songwriter, and The Great Repression suggests that his gifts are only getting more and more obvious as the years go by.

John K. Samson, Provincial (ANTI-)

WHO
Weakerthans frontman out on his own.

DISCOGRAPHY
Provincial (ANTI-, 2012)

IN A NUTSHELL
January is certainly too early to declare anything Album of the Year...but Provincials makes it awfully hard to avoid that hyperbole.

THE STORY
If you're looking for an objective analysis of Provincial, John K. Samson's first-ever full-length, you've probably come to the wrong place. I mean, I've been a massive fan of his since the first time I heard the opening chords of "Everthing Must Go!" on Left and Leaving, and I've liked pretty much everything I've heard from him in the decade-plus since then. As far as I'm concerned, he can do no wrong.

That said, I'm fairly certain I don't love Provincial just out of some residual loyalty. Everything that's made Samson's music special over the years is on full display here as well. Tracks like "When I Write My Master's Thesis" and "The Last And" (and "Stop Error", and "Highway 1 East", and "Grace General", and...well, you get the idea) sit comfortably alongside every other exceptional song Samson ever wrote with The Weakerthans. The way he weaves together narrative and poetry, his heartfelt style of singing, his ear for memorable melodies, the endearing sense of vulnerability: these are the things that made me a fan in the first place, and they're what makes it impossible not to love Provincial as well.

Normally, this is where I might try and come up with some small flaw, just to show that I recognize an album isn't completely perfect. I don't think I can do that here. The best flaw I can come up with -- that the songs here aren't exactly new, since some of the songs on Provincial were also included on the three solo EPs Samson has released over the last few years -- doesn't work: even if the titles are the same, the finished products are different (i.e. "Stop Error" on Provincial Road 222 consisted entirely of vocal harmonies built around a chorale from J. S. Bach; on Provincial it's been rebuilt as a acoustic folk song). No, I think I'll just leave it at this: if you're a fan of good music, you owe it to yourself to check out Provincial. It's only January, but as far as I'm concerned, it's hard to imagine a better album coming out this year.

There's no way to sugarcoat this, so I'll just come out and say it: Cruel Young Heart's self-titled EP is cheesy. And not just a little bit, either -- it's a big cheesefest, full of corny lyrics with bad rhymes, big synthy riffs and a general vibe of "We desperately wish we were The Killers".

I kind of love it.

Of course, as I said recently, I'm not wholly opposed to cheese, provided it's done reasonably well. On top of that, I always kind of liked The Killers, so hearing a band ape them doesn't necessarily turn me off. Combine those two things, and as much as I may chuckle at songs like ""Don't Come Any Closer" or "The Nighttime Glow" (the latter with like "I'm looking for a nighttime glow / And she was trying to ignite my soul"), I can't deny that they're fun and catchy -- two of my favourite traits in any song. Cruel Young Heart probably won't be confused with "serious artists" any time soon, but you know what? Serious is overrated. I'll take something fun every time, and they deliver that in spades.

Provider, the solo debut from former Constantines frontman Bry Webb, shouldn't be as big a surprise to me as it is. Yes, it finds him ditching his old band's brand of Springsteen-meets-Fugazi rock in favour of something substantially quieter, but anyone who heard that band's 2008 EP Too Slow For Love would know that Webb has got a bit of a thing for stripped-down folk-rock. What's more, it's hard to think of anyone who came out of Guelph's late '90s/early '00s Three Gut Records scene that didn't get into folk music sooner or later; just off the top of my head, you've got Jim Guthrie, Nathan Lawr, and two of Webb's own bandmates in Will Kidman (aka Woolly Leaves) and and Steve Lambke (Baby Eagle). For Webb himself to arrive there eventually should've been a foregone conclusion, especially when you factor in the life changes -- the indefinite hiatus of his old band, the birth of a song -- that occurred since the last Cons record.

Even knowing all those things, however, every time I listen to Provider, it comes as a huge shock to the system. In part, this is because it's kind of weird to hear Webb being so restrained. Too Slow For Love notwithstanding, he's always specialized at making that restraint sound full of tension, as if he (along with the rest of his bandmates in Constantines) was coiled up and ready to explode at any moment. Here, by contrast, he sounds tired and world-weary.

This points to the bigger reason why Provider hits so hard: because the subject matter lends itself to those emotions. No longer is he singing about "Young Lions" and shouting to "Turn it up". This time out, the topics are more grown-up: the nervousness associated with being a new parent (Zebra"), and remembering the past ("Rivers of Gold"), and getting old ("Ex-Punks"), and domestic bliss ("Persistent Spirit"). There's a weight to these songs that wasn't present -- or, at least, wasn't as obvious -- in Constantines' music, so it takes some adjustment to get used to them.

It's worth getting used to it, of course. It was extremely likely that the man responsible for some of Canada's best music over the last decade would continue to operate at such a high level once he went solo. At the same time, though there was no way of knowing that for sure -- after all, he might've found himself lost without his former bandmates to back him up. Provider shows that this isn't the case, and shows that regardless of whether he's in a band or by himself, Bry Webb is one of the best musicians in the country.

The more I listen to Wish You Were Here, the most recent album from F&M;, the more I think of it as two fairly distinct EPs that just happen to be mixed together on the same full-length. After all, the band -- which essentially is husband-and-wife duo Rebecca and Ryan Anderson -- features a pair of lead vocalists (both Andersons, obviously), and there's a very clear difference in styles between the two of them. When Ryan sings lead on the title track, "Old Photographs" and "Amsterdam", the songs are gruffer, and come off like a less gonzo version of Wax Mannequin. On the flipside, when Rebecca Anderson takes the lead on "Goodnight", "Music By The Sea" and "I Pray For The Fog (Becky's Version)", the songs are quieter, gentler, more (and it pains me to stereotype like this) feminine. The two sides meet briefly on "Streets of Laredo", whith Ryan's emotive vocals mix nicely with the soft music, but apart from that, as I wrote a few sentences ago, Wish You Were Here sounds more like two EPs than one full-length.

I should clarify, though: it sounds like two very, very good EPs. Both Andersons excel at what they do, so even if there's a disparity in styles, there's never also one in quality. Further, there's something nice about a folk album that's so willing to mix things up; in a genre where artists can usually be so easily pigeonholed, by being able to mix things up -- and by doing it so well -- F&M; stand out.

Volume 1, the new EP from The Elwins, probably isn't as good as it could have been. I mean, when you factor in the strength of their debut album, how long they've apparently been working on its follow-up (which may or may not be this EP -- their official bio is kind of vague), and the fact that they've not only increased their numbers but also brought in some outside help in the form of Doctor Ew and Thomas, the whole thing just feels a little insubstantial.

That said, even if Volume 1 isn't everything I would've hoped for, it's not a complete write-off, either. For one thing, whereas The Elwins' debut EP placed them squarely amongst at least a half dozen other bands from Southern Ontario playing the same kind of upbeat pop, this time around they've managed to differentiate themselves from the whole Ruby Coast/Tokyo Police Club/Will Currie & The Country French scene by going backwards and embracing a distinctly '70s-style aesthetic. While that's obviously well-worn ground, songs like "You're Invited" and "Teddy Bear" show that the band has no problem sounding suitably sunny and relaxed. On top of that, the sense of minimalism that pervaded their debut EP is still present on Volume 1. Before this just seemed like a by-product of the fact the band only had two members, but now, with a fleshed-out line-up, it seems like it's one of the main features of Matt Sweeney & Travis Stokl's songwriting. Not many artists could sound minimalistic while also doubling the size of their band, so the fact The Elwins achieved it suggests that they'll never fall prey to bloat.

Consequently, I think you need to look at Volume 1 more for what it means for the future than for anything it actually is. Taken in isolation, it just feels like bit of a trifle, but if The Elwins can carry its sunny, minimalistic vibe over to whatever they do next, I strongly suspect that the results will be well worth hearing.