Today marks my 10th anniversary with WordPress.com. On July 12, 2014, the Old Grey Cat purred, pawed and clawed yet again when I clicked “publish” on my first WordPress post, a review of a Natalie Merchant show that I attended the night before. History, lore and myth all agree that my blog-slash-website, which dates to February 1997, is now on its seventh life, with its twisty trek beginning on GeoCities and including stints (some long, some not) on NamesAreCheap, Facebook Notes, Tumblr, the Hatboro-Horsham Patch, and a wretched, bug-filled WordPress rival whose name now escapes me.
There’s no better way to celebrate such a momentous day than with Laughing, a four-piece Montreal band whose debut, Because It’s True, was released at the end of June. Jangly guitars mix with punchy rhythms and catchy beats to create a cornucopia of melodic rock, reminiscent in spots of the Byrds, Big Star, Shoes, Gin Blossoms, Lemonheads, Replacements and Philly favorite Buzz Zeemer, among others. It’s a power pop delight.
The group consists of veterans of Canada’s indie scene. Laura Jeffery handles the drums, while Josh Salter, André Charles Thériault and Cole Woods play musical chairs with guitar and bass. They all step into the spotlight—aka sing lead—at least once.
The leadoff track, “Easier Said,” sets the tone. It’s a compact, mid-tempo treatise that draws you in with its guitars and harmonies, while the lyrics delve into the differences between words and actions, and how most things—especially when it comes to resuscitating a broken heart—are easier said than done. “Pebble” continues the mood, while “Bruised” hits home with bon mots about love and gravity. The extended guitar solo near song’s end is akin to a god’s ray cutting through the clouds on an overcast day.
“Narcissist Blues” digs into folks who make everything about themselves. Forgive the side-note, but if the 1970s were known as the “me” decade, then the post-pandemic era has fast become that on steroids. The ragged glory of “Garden Path,” at 4:37 minutes one of the longer tracks on the record, sounds like a lost track from Neil Young and the Danny Whitten-era Crazy Horse (albeit one with better harmonies). “Will She Ever Be a Friend of Mine,” on the other hand, channels the Byrds in their mid-1960s prime. “You and I” is another heartfelt gem that’s accented by harmonies that fall like light rain on a summer’s day.
“Don’t Care”—the lone song fronted by Jeffery—reminds me somewhat of Chris Hillman’s country-rock outings on Younger Than Yesterday, though overall it sports a more stereotypical Byrds sound. “Glue,” another long song, adds a dash of Gram Parsons to the goings on, while “Sour Note” ups the energy and includes a glorious guitar solo. The fun comes to an end with “Secret,” which is the album’s longest track at five minutes and 13 seconds. It slows things down, sounding much like a countrified Velvet Underground.
The Old Grey Cat 