Doug Mason, AKA Michael Jackson and friends, makes an imaginary
award shortlist for best album to listen to stupidly loud when annoying
neighbours cut their grass again. Fox Pirate is joyful,
easy-to-please, summer power-pop for fans of early Fountains of Wayne,
with plenty of fuzzy guitars and big ol’ drum hooks, played by dudes
who obviously know what they’re doing: Jackson, Cliff Gibb (Thrush
Hermit), Jarrett Murphy (El Torpedo) and Dave Chisholm (The
Sycamores).
It’s easy to fall for punchy odes to delicious drunken French fries
(“Poutine Village,” also the name of Jackson’s home studio) that are
“baked, not deep-fried” for fear of house-fires, and sports injuries
that happen to “old men in a hobbyist band” (“The Tennis Injury”). But
look past the jokester veneer and there’s a Doug Mason philosophy at
work: Heck, we’re all just trying to do our own thing and survive until
the cemetery dirt is turned. “Ordinary People” go to corner stores and
check caller ID. On “Plagiarize,” Jackson slows it down, vulnerably
admitting to troubles writing the perfect song. But he gets the last
zing on “Scott Bryson is a Douche Bag,” an ode to the
CHARTattack music writer who compared the band’s last album to
Joey Jeremiah’s Zit Remedy all grown up. Less a threat than a strong
finger poke, it’s still a firm warning for both sides of this messy,
symbiotic relationship.
This article appears in Jun 18-24, 2009.
Whuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuureeeeee