Superlove from Tom Phillips

Think about the people you are closest to. Imagine those times when you’re sitting across from one of them, and they tell you something they’ve discovered about themselves, as though it were a significant revelation. “I know,” you say. “I could have told you that ten years ago.”

A moment like this exists in great contrast to those other moments you experience with the same people, when they do something that confounds you, that doesn’t match the profile you’ve constructed as you got closer. It’s then you realize this person is hiding a lot from you, and you can never, no matter what, fully know anyone.

I can’t claim to have this level of personal connection to Tom Phillips, but I think it would be safe to say that after knowing him for nearly 20 years, and listening to him a lot, he’s pulled the equivalent of Amy in Gone Girl: a move that I could have fully predicted, but didn’t see coming. And it came in the form of his latest album, Mr. Superlove.

From the opening, and title, track, Phillips sounds like the artist who has truly found his voice. Somehow, a man best known for mastering the art of sorrowful country songwriting experienced a maturation as a performer while he was covering other people’s songs. Producer Lorrie Matheson amassed a collection of tunes he thought suitable for Phillips’s delivery, and the outcome is a record that renews my belief in the full album as a work of art not to be heard in pieces.

Mr. Superlove seems a bit of a lark: Matheson and Phillips tossed the idea around casually before starting to record, and then were interrupted by their own solo careers, dwindling finances, and life, all of which prolonged the album for three years. Tim Leacock, one of Calgary’s preeminent sessionals and a strong songwriter in his own right, joined the group, recording all of the instrumental tracks with Matheson. In other words, if you’re looking for a Calgary supergroup, they just made this album.

The climax happens at track 9, “New Drink for the Old Drunk”, an unlikely Celtic-influenced arrangement that brings in two of only three guests on the record, T. Buckley and Derek Pulliam, for a rousing chorus that frankly addresses those around us sliding into alcohol’s grip. In many ways, this could be seen as an album of regret and renewal; songs like “Lately I’ve Let Things Slide” (Nick Lowe) and “Strangers” (Dave Davies) deal with such themes bluntly:

For many men there is so much grief
And my mind is proud but it aches with rage
And if I live too long, I’m afraid I will die
Strangers on this road we are on
We are not two, we are one

I suppose I could say many more things about Mr. Superlove; Tom is a dear friend of mine, and I’m proud to know him at this moment in his career. But sometimes words diminish what can only be felt by listening to the music and I don’t want to wreck it. Go buy the album: whether you’re interested in Phillips’s artistic rebirth or want to hear some of the most skillful musicianship to emerge in recent years, Mr. Superlove will deliver.