“Based On The Best Seller” (YepRoc Records)
By Eleni P. Austin
Sloan never rests on their laurels, and they never gloat about their achievements. They just get down to business. The Nova Scotia four-piece, which features Jay Ferguson (vocals, guitars), Chris Murphy (bass), Patrick Pentland (guitars, vocals) and Andrew Scott first formed in 1991, and their original line-up remains intact. A true rarity in the music biz.
Organically sourced, their farm-to-table brand of Power Pop echoes antecedents like The Beatles and The Raspberries, yet remains wholly their own. Their earliest efforts were released via the indie imprint murderrecords. But as their popularity increased, they inked a deal with Geffen Records (home to Guns N’ Roses, Nirvana and Sonic Youth). Their debut, Smeared, arrived in late 1992 to rave reviews and respectable sales.
Over the last 33 years, they’ve released 12 studio albums, four EPs, and five live collections. Feted above the 49th parallel, Sloan has consistently matched critical acclaim with commercial success. Among the Top 25 best-selling bands in Canada, they have received nine Juno nominations (the Canadian equivalent of a Grammy), winning two.
Although they haven’t reaped those commercial rewards here in the U.S., they have maintained a loyal and passionate audience for more than three decades. Splitting songwriting credits and lead vocal duties evenly, Sloan, like U2, R.E.M. (as well as the cast of the TV series Friends), adopted an “all for one, one for all” approach that has stood the test of time.
When the pandemic hit, the band was in the midst of a tour, supporting the reissue of their 1998 album, Navy Blues (which had been repackaged as a vinyl box set). While it felt as though the world had stopped turning, Sloan didn’t take up knitting, or adult coloring, they went to work. They opted to create a new album from scratch. Writing and recording remotely was challenging at times, but it allowed the band the freedom to tinker a bit with their sonic blueprint. The result was their 13th album, Steady, which arrived at the tail end of 2022. The album pleased critics and fans alike. Now, they’ve returned with their 14th long-player, Based On The Best Seller.
The opening trio of tracks finds the band effortlessly hopscotching across genres and the results are simply thrilling. “Capitol Cooler” kicks it off, as guitars swagger and slash atop sinewy bass lines and a stutter-step beat. Covert lyrics seem to sideswipe TACO Don and the power-hungry mob who stormed the Capitol before moving in: “The feathered fox is robbing the rich as the future plunders the past.” Beatlesque harmonies coalesce and sidewinding guitar solo snakes through the break, bookended by a tambourine shake. The final verse asks all the right questions: “Is it the end of this era? I guess that’s just one way to perceive, will they die with their boots on? If that’s how you want to proceed, making way for tomorrow, if that’s what you want to believe,” but solutions remain elusive.
As though someone’s quickly flipped the radio dial, fuzzed-out guitars careen out of the speakers, locking into a Glam-tastic groove on “Dream Destroyer. The song’s monster hook is anchored by tensile bass lines and a backbeat that snaps, crackles and pops. The candy-coated crunch of the arrangement nearly camouflages lyrics that seem to offer a clear-eyed appraisal of the music business: “Wine, women and song, that’s where it all went wrong, and for way too long, but I’d do it again, just give me paper and pen, I’ll sign on the dotted line, I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” Low-slung guitars, fizzy “whoo-hoo-hoo’s” and an infectious handclap beat dart through the mix, just ahead a face-melty solo on the break. Studio chatter and a final “whoo-hoo-hoo” cheerfully wind things up.
Making a hard left turn, “Opening Umbrellas” lands somewhere between traditional British Music Hall, Harry Nilsson and an arch, Kinksy roundelay. Tippy-toe piano notes are matched by sparkly guitar, sly bass lines and a slapdash beat. Vocally, Chris Murphy is front and center, shadowed by Jay, Patrick and Andrew. Cheeky lyrics obliquely address heatwave conditions with a bit of jabberwocky concerning the efficacy of umbrellas and sunblock: “You’ll open your umbrellas on a sunny day and see if anybody dares to bat an eye, it’s the accessory necessary for all occasions… children are slathered in the SPFs or they’ll go up in flames, these lotions spark emotions in the child and the parents, over how much to apply and who’s to blame, I want names.” Squiggly guitars oscillate on the break, mirroring the pasty-faced perplexity.
Sloan certainly knows their way around a hook, but they’ve never been content to stick within the confines of the Power Pop paradigm. They continue to keep the music fresh by coloring outside the lines. Take “So Far Down,” initially, a stompy beat is matched by choirboy harmonies, but both are quickly supplanted by squally guitars, stickity bass lines and a jittery pulse. Lyrics jump headfirst into a spat between ex-lovers: “I heard you got a new boyfriend, you’re breaking the old trend, coz I don’t have what you need, you heard I got a new girlfriend, I’m starting a new trend coz she seems to like me.” Despite the attempt at bonhomie, the verbal blows hit the target: “I got something to live for, a reason to do more, and everything is alright, I got something to live for, not like it was before, and I’m feeling alright.” An acrobatic guitar solo pinwheels across the break, underscoring the thinly disguised acrimony.
Then there’s the sludgy and succinct “Baxter.” Churning guitars are anchored by chugging bass lines and a chunky beat. The aggressive melody lines up with inscrutable lyrics that seem to take aim at, um, dairymen: “Milkman in your burgundy and white van, aid me in my efforts to abuse you, implied are the errors of my ways, and past your eyes go the memories of my days gone by.” Swathed in swirly and circuitous guitars, the repeated mantra of “Technological intervention, technological intervention,” keeps the listener guessing.
Meanwhile, “No Damn Fears” is powered by prowling guitars, slithery bass, space-age keys and a roiling rhythm. Enigmatic lyrics seem to set their sights on the false bravado of keyboard warriors and the current political climate: “Don’t press me in this light, I paint pictures every night, the imagery is offensive, but all the interplay is pretty inventive, maybe a shared rat space under light.” Downstroke riffage punctuates each verse, by the break a pummeling drum salvo ratchets the tension. The final couplet feels like a doomsday scenario that’s already come to pass: “You won’t strip the people’s rights, I sleep with one eye open every night, You’re going to pay and pay dearly, another death cult cracker, the beer league, I’ll never ask you for a light.” A splayed guitar coda offers a hint of hope.
On a record stacked with superlative tracks, a few stand out from the pack. On “Collect Yourself,” rangy guitars are tethered to loping bass lines, handclaps and a lanky gait. Lyrics paint a perspicacious portrait of a preening narcissist guarding a carefully curated image: “You’re a prized possession, living lesson, meant to last a lifetime, hermetically sealed to be one day revealed, I mean what other way would you save it/So collect yourself, if you don’t like what you see, trim off parts, recycle if need be, your memory’s rewriting history.” Swooning guitars twang and jangle on the break, undercutting the lyrical sneer.
Brisk and sunny, “Congratulations” straddles the line between New Wave and Power Pop. Angular guitars, wily bass lines and a percussive kick hug the melody’s hairpin curves Acerbic lyrics pass the baton to a new generation: “Congratulations are in order for someone who can draw a line to the generation waiting at the door, impatiently, for some to pass through.” Jaggy guitars on the break forecast divisive days to come: “The speculation leads to civil war, for this paint, paper and glue, preservation keeps an open door, allowing for us to pass through.”
If it were possible for Herb Alpert and his Tijuana Brass, The Partridge Family and The Beach Boys to sire a musical love child, it might sound like “Fortune Teller.” A saucy horn fanfare and crisp handclaps give way to walking bass lines, meandering organ notes and clip-clop percussion and stacked harmonies that recall “Good Vibrations,” The opening verse deftly depicts a bit of marital ennui: “As per my wife, I’m forever taking stock, saying what need not be said, I’m just trying to be nice, but she’s tired of all the talk.” Clearly, what was once conjugal bliss has curdled: “Like an old knife, I cannot cut like I once could, I wonder would I even want to, bad I could be, maybe you missed that about me, but if kindness is what’s killing you, they best arrest me.” Spiky horns syncopate on the break alongside vroom-y guitars, before arrangement syncs up completely.
Finally, “Live Forever” is the album’s magnum opus. Stuttery guitars, wiggy keys and flinty bass lines are anchored to see-saw beat. Discerning lyrics question humanity’s quest for longevity despite diminished returns: “I’ve been living my life all along, thinking I have to die, but medicine hasn’t made up it’s mind, it can summon the stricken to strong, but can it keep us all alive, yes, unless either you or your card is declined.” The arrangement jauntily rolls along until the action slows and reality creeps in: “Ah-you’re 100 years young, the latest centenarian, the ‘90s nostalgia you feel is nothing compared to what’s to come, if we’re living for that long a time, can it be a good time?”
The last two tracks, “Here We Go Again” and “I Already Know” attempt to fan the flames of a dying relationship. On the former lone vocals and acoustic guitars collide with loose-limbed bass and a driving beat. The flames have turned to ashes and the writing’s on the wall: “I don’t know what’s gone wrong, I don’t know how to heal it. I guess I come on too strong, it’s the only way I can feel it.” Acidic guitars strafe and sting on the break and there’s no turning back
On the latter, chiming guitars lattice shivery bass lines and an elastic beat. Honeyed harmonies can’t camouflage that a relationship has come undone. It’s clear this relationship has sunk: “I told you I was listening, admittedly I lied, you can’t come up with anything I have not done or tried… “I’m sensing that we both agree, you wouldn’t understand you’ll never need to answer me, no questions are at hand.” The buoyant arrangement, effervescent arrangement and shimmering vocals nearly cushion the final verbal blows: “I don’t need to listen, cause I don’t care what I’m missin.’ and I don’t rehearsin, cause I’m not that kind of person, and I don’t need to question, and I don’t trade pleasantries, I don’t need to listen, no not me. It’s a bittersweet finish to another great record.
Sloan never disappoints. While they’ve been honing their sound for more than three decades, their music never feels rote or formulaic. Based On The Best Seller continues the tradition of matching indelible hooks and memorable melodies to clever lyrics and crackling arrangements. Even as it feels as though the world is spinning off its axis, Sloan is still here to steady our collective nerves.
