When I first met Scott MacLeod 7 years ago, he was talking about Blue Rodeo and Kathleen Edwards. Their influences obviously permeated the album he handed to me that day. I got where he was coming from, and that ended up being the start of a good friendship.
In 2012 we met up again to talk music, and it seemed he had moved on. We spent ages talking about singing, and he had a laser focus on Bruce Springsteen at that point. “Whatever that song is, about that girl, 30 years later, I think he still loves her somehow,” he said. “Whatever it’s about, yeah, maybe they’re not together, but god, he still … It’s yet another one of life’s unanswered questions and he’s just asking, searching for some sort of answer, which may never be there. I think for me, it’s the emotion in the voice.”
MacLeod has shed any predilection he had for imitating Cuddy et al. and is now channeling Springsteen full force on Flicker and Fade. About time: I knew this was brewing somewhere under the surface, and it’s come out the way it should. On his last album, Right as Rain, MacLeod’s kinda cantankerous, not the right setting for tapping into your latent Springsteen-esque tendencies. I don’t think. But now that he’s moving into more cheery territory, he’s primed to take on those sophisticated influences.
Now, I’m not suggesting that MacLeod is a direct imitation of The Boss. Instead, he’s approaching songwriting with a deft maturity, some certainty in what he wants his message to be. Stylistically, he wanders between ‘50s Chuck Berry rockabilly (“Jump in My Step”), Uncle Tupelo-infused alt-country (“2 Run Lead”), and yup, Springsteeney straight-ahead rock (“Just Around the Corner”), but it’s clear that MacLeod was determined to realize an aesthetic vision he’s been carrying around for a while. Surety in one’s artistic identity, and the ability to realize it without compunction, might be the lasting legacy of Springsteen, and it’s found here in MacLeod. The sweet guitar sounds teased out by producer Steve Loree are matched by the mournful tears of the pedal steel on songs like “Back This Way”. I’m into the reassuring mood of “On the Mend”, which is complemented by the forward motion of its arrangement, but prepare yourself for the 9-minute jam at the end of the album (“Straight Ahead”) that makes me think something special might have been passed around the circle before the record button was hit.
There’s something satisfying about putting on an album and realizing that there are no missteps. I hate to put pressure on MacLeod’s future endeavours, but it seems to me that Flicker and Fade is the record he’s always been waiting to make. All of the pieces of his different selves – a childhood in PEI, parenthood in Calgary; emotional turmoil of his early 30s and contemplative calm of his late 30s; his songwriting idols; the voices of his singing heroes – appear on Flicker and Fade.
Aided by some of the best in the biz, the album’s production is tight. In every song, like “You Never Asked”, the tiny details such as the lingering backing chorus show that MacLeod and producer Loree (Ian Tyson, Jr Gone Wild) had a unified vision they were able to realize together. MacLeod’s backing band is an all-star cast of Alberta’s best: Deon Blyan on drums and vocals, Scotty Montgomery on bass, and Pete Loughlin on vocals, among others. Graphic artist and fellow Alberta roots songwriter Dave McCann appears for design credits, but MacLeod doesn’t let it slip away from being a family affair, bringing wife Kara on for cover art that better evokes the fiery prairie sky better than any other attempt I’ve seen.
MacLeod’s official CD release party happens tonight in Calgary at Wine-Ohs. Advance tix are available for a few more hours ($10 and $20 with CD). If you’re not in the city for the party, head to Lethbridge and Nanton for upcoming dates or support an independent artist by buying the album from his website.
