Sloan, Parallel Play
The most dependable power-poppers on the planet get democratic.
Named after a developmental psychology term for when preschoolers play side-by-side without interaction, Parallel Play links together the independent compositions of Sloan's four members, every one of them a singer-songwriter. It's what the Beatles and the Monkees did for their most varied albums, but these Canadians push their democratic methods to extremes: Each contributes three songs, except for Andrew Scott, who turns in four. He, the drummer, is perversely the one who plays everything on his tracks.
This equality wouldn't matter if Sloan hadn't remained one of the '90s greatest under-appreciated bands. Although their second album, 1994's anti-grunge Twice Removed, has been twice voted the greatest Canadian album ever, Parallel Play proves Sloan didn't peak prematurely: Like 2006's 30-cut Never Hear the End of It, Play splices tracks together into nonstop suites, akin to the second half of the Beatles'Abbey Road. But unlike its fragmented and introspective predecessor, the foursome's latest features fully-developed and mostly uptempo songs that consistently play to the band's strengths — muscle paired with melody, hooks laden with harmony — that gives their immediacy depth.
As usual, the guy with the Beach Boy tenor, rhythm guitarist Jay Ferguson, handles the summery pop: With its introductory plinking pianos and bubbly “ba-ba-da”s, “Cheap Champaign” brings the effervescence its title suggests. His Sloan siblings don't exactly slack in the catchiness department: Lead guitarist Patrick Pentland kicks thing off with the stomping blare of “Believe in Me,” while Scott's punky, handclap-laden “Emergency 911″ rages like one of Nick Lowe's early Stiff singles. In his strummy “All I Am Is All You're Not,” bassist Chris Murphy wryly declares “What I lack in pizzaz I make up in charm.” That's Sloan in summary — not the flashiest power-poppers on the planet, but certainly the most dependable.
