Great Big Sea

Great Big Sea, Something Beautiful WEA *** By Martin Levin Some years ago, a group of friends and I became addicts of the Festival of Fire, the spectacular international fireworks display that used to be held annually at Ontario Place, back when sponsorship of events by tobacco companies was still deemed (marginally) acceptable. As the festival became stunningly popular — carloads of families, complete with picnic baskets and coolers, began occupying first the concrete waterside sitelines we’d earlier staked out, and soon the surrounding parkland — we had to go farther afield to get our fireworks fix. One year, we decided that the best available view was to be had next to the band stage at Harbourfront. As we crowded against the rail (we were sort of forced up against it, actually), a band began playing. For a few minutes, I was oblivious to the sound, thought of it as little more than background accompaniment, but then it began to make its presence known. Forcefully. It was something I’d never heard before, a mix of sea shanty, down east music, and rock and roll, with a little Poguesy Celto-punk stirred in. Who were these guys? Well, who they were was the then unknown (outside their native Newfoundland) Great Big Sea, and since that night I’ve been a fan, have all their CDs, have seen them in concert several times. And they never fail to deliver the goods, whether rollicking out on a tune like Run Runaway, speeding breakneck through the motor-mouthed Mari-Mac or delivering traditional fisherman-sailor songs like Rant & Roar (all, you’ll note, from their second album, Up, which I still consider their best). There are jigs and reels and even ballads. There’s raucous fun-making and sentiment and even tragedy (where there are island folk, you may always expect a drowning or two). The band’s new album, its sixth of new work and eighth overall, Something Beautiful does not disappoint in any of these respects; even if it is not quite (emphasis on quite) up to their very best, it is still a very good album. Great Big Sea is famous for its instrumentation: Fiddles, pipes, whistles and accordions supplement a kick-ass drumbeat and lovely acoustic guitar work. Check out the credits here, and you’ll also find concertina, bouzouki (which they’ve used before), mandolin, bodhran, strum stick and Hammond organ. There’s also sax, trumpet and trombone. Shades of Muscle Shoals But what really makes this band is the singing, the committed, muscular voices of Sean McCann, Bob Hallett and, especially, Alan Doyle. Whether on lead vocal or in their trademark tight harmonies, and no matter how often you’ve heard it, or how often they’ve performed a song, it always sounds new, as if they’ve just discovered it, and want to share their joy with you. But why I think this isn’t quite up to standard is because it’s marginally more commercial than their previous work. Songs such as When I Am King (the CD’s first single) and Shines Right Through Me, though catchy and tuneful and hook-filled, feel a little over-crafted, as if a wee dram of that pub-flavoured energy, the Poguishness that characterized so much earlier work, has been left behind. On the other hand, when Great Big Sea returns to its funky roots, it moves into top form. The wacky, funny, finally touching Helmethead is a piece of Canadiana worthy of The Rheostatics, a song about a hockey loser. And the two traditional tunes are both prime: The closing instrumental, Chafe’s Ceilidh, is a romp that melds two Newfoundland dance tunes, while the stark John Barbour is a potent sailor’s lament. Something Beautiful is, finally, not the revelation one always expects from Great Big Sea, does not take this most essential of Canadian bands in any startling new directions, other than, perhaps, its increased radio-friendliness. But there’s more than enough on these 13 tracks to merit the attention of both devotees and newcomers.

Photo Credit:  greatbigsea.com