06/01/2009 | Pitchfork.com | www.pitchfork.com | Feature
Contrast the frantic drumming that kicks off this track, and maintains up this frenetic pace throughout, with the calm and steady presences of both a gentle humming organ and equally austere snippets of cello. Contrast Paul Banwatt's voice in the verses-- creaky, nasal, unsteady-- with his impassioned singing of the chorus, which might have folks reaching into their stacks (or playlists) for a quick hit of In the Aeroplane. Contrast both modes of Banwatt's singing with Amy Cole's demure (yet no less passionate) backing harmonies, a combination that might one a little nostalgic for Rainer Maria's salad days. And then look at the lyric, about an ex-couple's empty apartment that won't rid itself of its memories: "I wanna hurt, I wanna betray/ It's not like me to make your heart break." The words veer back and forth between being at peace and being in turmoil, between a wistfulness tinted with hindsight and a desperation soaked in regret. Though the title of the song might betray where the narrator's wishes lie, the song doesn't really choose sides-- it simply states its uncertain case in uncertain terms, and lets the friction between the drummer's frenzy and the remaining instruments' measured patience muddy these narrative waters in an intriguing and deceptively simple way. Say hello to the Rural Alberta Advantage.
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