FEBRUARY 2009 - OBSCURE SOUND - REVIEW

Stereotypes are difficult to shake off some genres, as the primary innovators of them are usually considered to be the archetypical reference point for those aspiring to pursue the style. Structural tendencies are rarely what define a genre since experimentation can be prevalent in all styles of music without it being a hindrance to classification. As a result, listeners often resort to classification through means of instrumentation, historical relevance, and even methods of production. The latter proves to be a rather outdated method since the definition of “quality production” seems to fluctuate with each passing year, but the other two still apply.

Upon examining a piece of music, we unknowingly become influenced by the media in determining a song’s genre. There exists some one-hundred or so proposed genres, most of them resulting in an overly intricate attempt from journalists and musicians to concisely classify a song or release. It would be interesting to see what the members of Bruce Peninsula think about such an occurrence, as they are one of the few groups whose sound can truly not be grouped into one category. Their main focal points include folk, soul, rock, and an eerily brilliant infusion of gospel music, though one is not even slightly predominant over the others. This creates for an interesting experience, something that serves as one of the few legitimate excuses for a fancily concocted genre.

If forced to choose, folk would personally be my classification for Bruce Peninsula. The genre has demonstrated such flexibility this past decade, with artists finding success in both traditional and modernized approaches. Bruce Peninsula find themselves somewhere in between the two; they express a veneration for the past with scenic lyrical content and a call-and-response vocal approach, but their infusion of other elements within the worlds of gospel and soul place them in a category where few others exist. It would have been rare to see a folk artist in a decade other than this one attempt such a stylistically multifarious approach while still remaining in the realm of their respective genre, but Bruce Peninsula prove to be a new breed that dares to defy any and all stereotypes that apply to folk music. They exist partly as a possessed choir and partly as leaders of some tribal procession, leading way for an exhilarating presentation that blends conventionalism with culturally atypical methods.

Some may say that folk music must have some incorporation of a non-electric guitar with little backing instrumentation, but listeners of Bruce Peninsula have or will learn otherwise. With their newest album, they strive to defy the predictable elements that make some music derivative, regardless of their genre.

The origins of Bruce Peninsula trace back to 2006. Naming their project after a scenic peninsula in their native province of Ontario, Misha Bower and Matt Cully enlisted a wide variety of musicians to fulfill a stylistic vision that could only be accomplished through a precise selection process. The dozen or so members that accompany Bruce Peninsula when at its fullest are all fine surveyors of the band’s target genres: folk, soul, and gospel. The female members often make up a haunting choir of sorts, backing the coarsely invigorating vocals of Neil Haverty. Bower also occasionally serves as the female lead, making her mark with quick but extremely effective moments in tracks like “2nd 4th World War” and “Weave Myself a Dress”, the latter in which she stars as a sympathetic protagonist stricken by loneliness and grief. Considering her powerful, trembling vocals on tracks like this, I feel that the Bruce Peninsula’s full-length debut, A Mountain Is a Mouth, may have benefitted from seeing more of her voice. Still, with a uniquely captivating voice like Haverty’s taking the lead, it is a tough decision to make. Regardless though, the album hits all the right marks with its wide range of emotions. Whether it is Haverty’s bluesy howl toward the end of the breathtaking opener “Inside/Outside” or the ceaseless action of percussion on the energetic “Crabapples”, A Mountain Is a Mouth is full of ardent moments diverse enough to captivate a listener for months on end.

The aforementioned “Weave Myself a Dress” also tends to serve as a consummate example of Bruce Peninsula’s tonal and emotional diversity. Bower initially guides her crackling voice over a pair of acoustic guitars and a twinkling keyboard, with an eerie string-like effect in the distance providing a striking backdrop over her longing lyrics. The track continues like this for several minutes before near-ambience takes over. Bower then lets out a howl over this phased ambiance, allowing the soft strumming of an acoustic guitar to answer in response. When she lets out another one, two guitars become involved. Eventually, the melody seamlessly shifts into a joyous choir of sorts as Bower’s voice remains distinct over a unisex chorus. To check out Haverty’s tremendous vocal power, one should look no farther than “Shutters”. This powerful effort begins with a similarly accompanying choir as Haverty trembles, “Like water from a whale spout, the spray unveils its crown.” As strings can be heard building up in the background, the listener can sense impending turbulence. When the volatile rhythm section collides abruptly with a series of guitars, the track intensifies to a level of irresistibility. Haverty either sounds like a deranged madman or a brilliant preacher, with his accomplice of choirs hitting the notes that his musky voice cannot. The track becomes somewhat serene during the middle, but then follows it up with an even more grandiose setting than the introduction. Such tactful precision is what makes Bruce Peninsula so special, and it is a sentiment expressed brilliantly on A Mountain Is a Mouth.

FEBRUARY 2009 - MONTREAL MIRROR - REVIEW

This 10-piece Toronto band makes traditional bangers, moaners, ballads and bluesers, with one stomping foot in roots (from plainly sung folk to clanging choral music), the other grounded at the crossroads of rigid indie rock and free post-rock. Lead vocalist Neil Haverty emits a gruff warmth complemented by the coo of co-singer Misha Bower and an all-female back-up choir, while acoustic and electric guitars roll alongside, and drums (used sparingly) build from a mere beat to a thunderous crash. As the tourism site for the band’s namesake (a little piece of Ontario between Georgian Bay and Lake Huron) says, “There is no end to the worlds you can discover in this wondrous place.”

FEBRUARY 2009 - METRO - FEATURE

With its seven-voice choir, dancing African guitars, chain-gang rhythms and prog-rock leanings, Bruce Peninsula is an unlikely convergence of sound.

If you listen closely between the call-and-response vocals, you can pick out the glockenspiel, tube bells, hammered dulcimer, washboard, vibraphone, timbale, marimba or even the karimba.

Just when you think you’ve got this 11-piece Toronto band pegged as some bizarre tribute to old time gospel, the two guitars, bass player and drummer fly off on a proggy tangent that wouldn’t be out of place on an old Jethro Tull record.

And at the heart of it all is hulking frontman Neil Haverty. He possesses a gravelly growl powerful enough to cement the band’s diverse elements together.

The band had its genesis when Haverty befriended Matt Cully and Misha Bower, two music fans immersed in the Appalachian Folkway recordings of Alan Lomax. They started experimenting with gospel and chain-gang songs. Friends were called in to provide extra voices.

Haverty, who is often joined by Bower on lead vocals, stresses that Bruce Peninsula is a collective.

“The truth is that there are five of us who actively contribute to the songwriting in the band,” he says.

The proggy elements came to fruition when Haverty introduced an old friend from Hamilton, Ont., Steve McKay, to the band. McKay had completed his classical music studies at Queen’s University where he had also developed a strong reputation as a rock drummer. When Bruce Peninsula needed a new drummer, he answered the call, bringing with him a love for ‘70s British prog rock.

“The prog stuff was going to happen anyways,” McKay says. “I was always a fan of Jethro Tull, King Crimson and Yes.”

The unlikely mix had the critics frothing more than a month before the official release of Bruce Peninsula’s debut album, A Mountain Is A Mouth.

“The buzz is like nothing I’ve experienced in my life,” McKay says about the over-the-top reviews. “It’s kind of overwhelming.”

(note this is the same writer as the Spec article, so it's sort of just rejigged!)

FEBRUARY 2009 - CHROMEWAVES - LIVE REVIEW

Please understand, as much as I like them, I have no desire to make write-ups on Bruce Peninsula a weekly feature. However, their in-store performance at Soundscapes on Wednesday night to mark the release of A Mountain Is A Mouth merited a little more than cursory, “hey Bruce Peninsula played an in-store it was great let’s see what else is going on”.

Typically, in-stores involve a minimal setup - say acoustic guitar and mic into a PA - and a handful of songs, hopefully just enough to entice folks to buy a CD or attend a concert. And Bruce Peninsula did indeed invite the packed store to buy their album - cannily, the band set up across the width of the entire store and thus prevented anyone from being able to buy a CD from any other local independent artist - or a ticket to their February 22 show at the Polish Combatants Hall, but as far as the performance went there were no half-measures. The full band was in attendance - 10 members strong, though some different faces from when I saw them last - and they came equipped with electric guitars and drums (though just individual drums rather than full kits), intent on delivering almost a complete and proper show and demonstrating for those who hadn’t seen them before, the full power of the Bruce Peninsula live experience.

Their set ran almost 40 minutes, culminating in a stunning double-take of “Weave Myself A Dress” - double because it was being filmed for the Camera Music series on aux.tv - and to thank the audience for sitting through the same song twice (though really, we should have been thanking them) the band moved the drums into the middle of the audience for a rousing, pounding finale of “Crabapples”. A headshakingly good performance - isn’t it great/scary when bands you already expect the world from still manage to raise the bar? And I promise this’ll be the last BP-led post until their February 22 show. Unless it’s not.

FEBRUARY 2009 - HOUR - FEATURE

Toronto collective Bruce Peninsula has taken the slow and steady approach to the art and business of being a band. Formed back in 2006 by Misha Bower and Matt Cully, the group makes music that has grown beyond its initial inspiration (the Alan Lomax archives of the American Deep South spirituals and work songs) to what it is today: a near indescribable and rousing potpourri of prog, gospel, folk, rock, pop and country.

The big band now holds 10-plus players, including a bone-chilling, hand-clapping lady choir that will have you sharin' hallucinations with the Lord up above. Bruce Peninsula's debut independent release, A Mountain Is a Mouth, has just dropped for your listening pleasure. We caught up with Matt Cully...

Hour: How much is the band still a vision of the two founding members, and how much does the full band come into play?

Matt Cully: From the beginning, our band has been constantly evolving. While our first show was just Misha and I, our second included several people who are still involved with the band including Neil Haverty [lead vocals], who quickly joined the writing team, and Kari Peddle, who remains our only original choir member. Although Misha and I had a basic idea about what kind of music we wanted to make, the Bruce Peninsula of AMIAM has been the result of a consistently fruitful collaboration involving each new member.

Hour: The production values on the record sound almost timeless, but the music itself encapsulates sounds from the past, present and future.

Cully:I think we are living in a time that is consciously breaking down the idea of history as a linear progression. As music junkies in search of a fix, we have not only the history of recorded music to sort through, but traditions from various cultures around the world that have yet to influence what's happening locally. Throw in the sounds of the city or the aural environment of where you come from and you have all the factors available to create new and exciting combinations of form and style. For each song we try to hone in on a few basic ideas that serve as the skeleton, and then flesh out diverse ideas with all kinds of sonic experiments.

Hour: What are the membership requirements for Bruce Peninsula?

Cully: Everyone that is in Bruce Peninsula started off as a friend of ours or was in a band we admired. The real requirement is a great voice, a positive attitude and enthusiasm for the music. We're currently closed for applications however. Sorry.

FEBRUARY 2009 - OTTAWA XPRESS - FEATURE

Listening to Bruce Peninsula did not make me find God, but despite being an adamant atheist, it kind of made me want to. This is a fairly typical reaction to the gospel-inspired music of the Toronto-based, seven-member collective.

"Spiritual" is the number-one adjective used to describe Bruce Peninsula's hauntingly emotive sound in the Canadian music press - an apt word choice. The band's signature use of choir vocals may be the precocious culprit.

"Once you figure out the heart of the band - the ideal mood and emotion - you can set that to any genre of music and it will still come out sounding like your band," says Neil Haverty, a core member and guitarist.

For Bruce Peninsula, that ideal mood is the tightly knit harmonic group vocals that pervade their entire repertoire and which sounds most impressive in concert - especially in the favoured, acoustic environs of churches. Most of the press coverage surrounding Bruce Peninsula has focused on their awe-inspiring live performances, but the band's recently released debut album, A Mountain Is a Mouth, should not go ignored. In fact, it is already starting to garner some Polaris Prize buzz.

There may not be any traces of deities on A Mountain Is a Mouth - at least not for atheists - but because the band took over a year to meticulously exploit the many melodies present in their well-rehearsed songs, there may be other relics to be discovered.

"People say, 'Sometimes I listen to the record and I swear I heard an organ on this one song,'" says Haverty. "You didn't hear an organ. The clash of all the instruments together is producing a sort of phantom melody."

If the criteria for the next Polaris Prize winner included the ability to produce phantom sounds - which it should - Bruce Peninsula is undoubtedly the winner. On second thought, they deserve the prize anyway.

FEBRUARY 2009 - CBC R3 - REVIEW

It's safe to say that, among critics in Canada any way, A Mountain is a Mouth is one of the most anticipated records of 2009 and it certainly was worth the wait. Inspired by folk and gospel field recordings of traditional songs, Bruce Peninsula essentially began by tapping into these old world sounds and reinterpreting them. In tracing the roots of this music, they discovered the impassioned paths that led to jazz and punk as well--the freedom that amalgamating inclusive, collective invention and musical proficiency enables. So, while they may swell to a seemingly unruly eight or ten or twelve-piece band, with gorgeous, overwhelming male and female voices bolstering intricate guitar lines and stomping, off-kilter rhythms, Bruce Peninsula are sharply aware of every haunting note they create.

As likely to recall recordings by Alan Lomax or Harry Smith, as they are Burn Rome in a Dream or Constantines, these new songs by Bruce Peninsula are dark and powerful, making A Mountain is a Mouth one of the most promising debuts I've heard in a long, long time. It's the antidote to indifference, a compelling call to arms that bridges disparate musical styles (and, hopefully listeners) with effortless grace.

FEBRUARY 2009 - SOUNDSCAPES - REVIEW

Anyone who has had the opportunity to see Toronto's Bruce Peninsula play live knows the power this group holds. Their sheer performance energy has, of late, been entrancing live audiences all over the city and beyond. At first listen, A Mountain Is A Mouth may not seem to do this experience justice, limited as it is by its own static medium. Still, standout tracks like "Weave Myself A Dress" and "Crabapples" showcase the subtleties in the band's characteristically engaging songwriting, raw lead vocals, and massive yet meticulous choral arrangements. Branching out with this release from their beginnings adapting traditional folk songs, these original compositions are a lively new take on an old, beloved sound.

FEBRUARY 2009 - PITCHFORK - TRACK PREVIEW

Named after an Ontario landmass teeming with rambunctious flora and fauna (including homosapiens on holiday), Bruce Peninsula-- the band-- is a formidable force of nature in its own right. Think hurricane, earthquake, or the kind of thunderstorm that makes you crawl under the bed with your blankie. Or, more to the point: the communal quasi-religious fervor of Arcade Fire, the Polyphonic Spree, Bodies of Water and The Mae Shi.

With a bruised shout reminiscent of Peter Gabriel's, Neil Haverty leads the dozen-member Toronto collective, including an all-female choir and an art-rocking instrumental section. "Crabapples"-- like the other tracks on their rollercoastering Mountain and a Mouth LP-- is inspired by folklorist Alan Lomax's century-old roots music archives. Over the course of two-and-a-half gut-punching, foot-stomping minutes, Haverty plays tent-revival preacher to the hilt, hollering "You can't survive on just crabapples" to a cacophonous martial parade of beats, and the choir belts back what sounds like, "Tastes just fine to me!" Doesn't really matter what they're offering-- you can't help but bite.

FEBRUARY 2009 - TORONTOIST - REVIEW

Bruce Peninsula knows how to keep a city of music fans waiting.

Forming the core of the group in 2006, beginning recording for their full-length in summer 2007, and releasing only a 7" of traditional songs in July 2008, any of the band's spare time throughout was spent honing their gigantic live show on comparably tiny stages to much acclaim, setting the expectations for the in-the-works album intimidatingly high. Recorded in churches, schools, garages, and—get this—actual studios, A Mountain Is A Mouth makes its physical debut today, after it was prematurely released digitally by the also-antsy band in December.

From its twelve-member roster (and a handful of cameos), A Mountain Is A Mouth bleeds big songs in minor keys. The vocal amalgamation of Bruce Peninsula's trademark all-female choir (Misha Bower, Katie Stelmanis, Kari Peddle, now-former member Isla Craig, and local darlings Ohbijou's Casey Mecija, plus others, on occasion) is the true focus; avoiding potentially dangerous novelty territory, the resonant voices respond to frontman Neil Haverty's gravelly calls, shouting their restlessness ("Satisfied"), affirming their principles ("Crabapples"), and overall creating a pomp and clatter made to fill big, empty spaces. Finding their inspiration in traditional American music, the instrumentally sparse gospel/folk/blues arrangements are contemporized by jerky post-punk guitars and anchored by the kite-string percussion of Steve McKay, Maya Postepski, and Leon Taheny (who doubles as producer and moonlights as a Mountain with Sebastian Grainger), giving the choral voices all the room they need to soar and reeling them back in when it's time to come down.

The valleys don't quite live up to the peaks, but even the tracks that aren't obviously as huge find their depth; on "Weave Myself A Dress," group co-founder Bower is a singular voice, but even in the initial quiet wavering, she sounds strong. By the end of the track her choir chimes in, taking the song and the album to new, pretty, optimistic reaches. Even in its darkest, most haunting moments, A Mountain Is A Mouth stirs something very uplifting inside; singing from the soul, hoping to reach part of yours. Toronto's multi-member collective club may not have much room left in it, but Bruce Peninsula are just fine doing things on their (collective) own.

FEBRUARY 2009 - GUELPH MERCURY - LIVE REVIEW

Bruce Peninsula took the stage next. And when they take a stage, they take the whole thing. Like... damn. That's a lot of people. Eleven, in fact. They had a solid enough set, and if the female vocals seemed a little overpowered by everything else, they shone through when it counted. Misha Bower... how can I put this? When Misha Bower opens her mouth, the last thing you expect to hear is the powerful, husky wail that drives many of these songs. Like Lift Em Up/Jack Can I Ride, two of the three traditional songs from the BP 7" released last July. She just effortlessly steals the show with her raw silk voice. It's the same thing on Weave Myself a Dress and Crabapples, which they sang to close out the show. They had a false start with the song, but recovered quickly. Maybe to make up for the screwup, they seemed to call forth some demons of rock and roll for an inspired end to their set. Neil Haverty was writhing like he was possessed and singing like it, too. I love watching musicians who are caught up in the moment and passionate about what they do.

(and below are words from the preview, posted on the same blog)

The actual Bruce Peninsula is sprawling, graceful and studded with unenhanced, eclectic beauty. So it's not surprising that Bruce Peninsula took their name from the place, because they are the same deal. They perform fiery, call and response spirituals that span the spectrum of music, from bluesy gospel to searching prog. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking: "weird." But give it a listen. Soon you will be thinking "Amazing." The choir is lead by Neil Haverty's whisky-soaked old-timey preacher growl. His voice is commanding, arresting. I don't know what else to say. His gruff rumble, when combined with the soaring female vocals, blows my mind.

They sing this song, Weave Myself a Dress that is just.... gorgeous. It's like slipping a hand-knit sweater over your head and feeling every stitch, every thread. Starting out lazy and almost weary with Mischa Bowers' easy, husky rasp, a wave of sound rolls over her in the middle of the song. It immediately dives down to nothing and then builds and builds until it's washing over you and surging ahead into the shouting furor of Crabapples, which I think is my favourite song from their album, A Mountain Is a Mouth, available online now from Zunior and in stores Feb. 3. You can also stream it on CBC Radio 3.

Consider their show at Vinyl tomorrow night a sneak peek. Everything I've read about the Bruce Peninsula says "The album's great, but you should see them live." I just might have to. They reinforce the idea that the mightiest instrument is the human voice and I like that. I like it a lot.

FEBRUARY 2009 - HEROHILL - REVIEW

Unlike a lot of the blog world, I let this record marinate slowly and only listened to it a few times in December and January and to be honest the first few listens didn’t blow me away like their 7” did. I certainly enjoyed the songs on AMisM, but I wanted to make sure I didn’t rush to judgment and took the time to embrace the subtleties and varying emotions, not just the thumping percussion and soulful choral hollering. It’s almost impossible to ignore the ragged epics the collective pens - Steamroller and Crabapples could shake the dead back to life - but there is a depth to these songs that shouldn’t be overlooked.

Subtleties are not what you might expect from a ten-piece collective led dominated by hand claps and the gravelly growl of Neil Haverty, but the soft touch the band adds to the record really helps the band (and the listener) keep one foot on the ground during the soaring, surging chaos. A perfect example is how they balance the hand clapping, tub thumping energy that ends Satisfied with the surprisingly delicate, uplifting introduction of Shutters. You’d never expect it, but the clarity and tranquility hit as hard as any percussive beat on the record.

I’ve read tons of reviews calling the listening experience religious or spiritual but to me, the band strips away the need for prayer and floods your soul with a much more important feeling; inspiration. Instead of looking to the heavens or hoping someone else can save you, Bruce Peninsula makes you feel you can overcome anything on your own. As the peaceful sounds of Weave Myself a Dress slowly pick up momentum with a gentle foot stomp, marching band drum and a choir, you feel a surge inside your body that makes you feel like you can fly. Even when the band lets you hit rock bottom (the bleak Drink All Day) they lift you back up with the workman like Northbound/Southbound.

A Mountain is a Mouth doesn’t hit as hard as Lift Em Up or Jack, Can I Ride, but really, you wouldn’t want it to. Instead Bruce Peninsula creates emotional valleys that give the record a timely reality, but follow them up with soaring epics that inspire you to keep going, and that might just make this one of the most important records you’ll hear this year.