By Todd Lavoie
Looks like Patrick Watson's ridin' the champagne wave. The California-born Montrealer was just awarded Canada's esteemed Polaris Music Prize for Best Canadian Album of 2007, beating out stiff competition from nominees Feist, the Arcade Fire, and the Besnard Lakes, among others. (What, no Rush? Avril Lavigne? The indignity of it all!) Sure, the prestige has gotta feel good, and the extra publicity must be nice, but how's this for a cherry on top: the Polaris is a $20,000 cash prize. Not a bad way to offset some of those pesky touring costs. Watson and his identically named quartet are spending the next couple of months charming audiences across Europe and Canada. (Sadly, no American dates at this point, but fingers crossed. Perhaps all this added exposure will inspire a stateside itinerary as well.)
Enter the familiar refrain: "But who is this Patrick Watson guy?" A fair question, considering thus far he's flown pretty deep under the radar of the music press. Mention the name, and chances are you'll either get a shrug and a stare or the foot-stompalicious chorus from "The Magic Position." (That's Patrick Wolf, pumpkin.) His sophomore album, Close to Paradise (Secret City), has been given heaps of praise - when it's been reviewed, that is. Up till now, it's been a hidden little gem, buried away under the sheer crushing power of so much great music coming out this year.
No wonder, then, that it was such a major upset - especially if you were a betting fool with all your chips firmly placed upon The Neon Bible (Merge) - when the relatively obscure singer-songwriter swooped in from the shadows to collect his 20,000 Loonies. Hell, even the almighty tastemakers at pitchfork.com - ever so proud of their ability to remain several points ahead of the curve - found themselves staring down a mighty slab of humble pie upon finding out that the winner of a big-deal music prize was a guy to whom they'd devoted absolutely no coverage whatsoever. I could take advantage of the situation and snark on Pitchfork, but certainly I've heard a thing or two about stones and glass houses. Besides, how about focusing on the upside: there's just so much wonderful stuff out there that it's impossible to catch it all.
I'd never heard of Watson until a few months ago, after I bought a copy of the Cinematic Orchestra's recent Ma Fleur (Ninja Tune/Domino). I could gush and gush about that album till the carpal tunnel sets in - the late-period Talk Talk-evoking explorations of baroque arrangements colliding against chilling silences, the heartbreaking forays into melancholic soul. It's a truly moving experience, particularly on headphones, which was exactly how I surrendered myself when I first put the disc in the stereo.
It was then that I heard Watson for the first time - a gorgeous, fluttering falsetto matched by an equally mesmerizing lower register, deeper but somehow curiously non-gender-specific. Honestly, I first thought it was Antony (of Antony and the Johnsons), but there was something slightly different abut his phrasing, his delivery. I double-checked the liner notes - nope, never heard of him. By his third and final vocal turn on the album - the closing "To Build a Home" - I was speechless. Here's your chance to feel the same way. Talk about a pin-drop quiet audience:
Watson's debut, Just Another Ordinary Day (Canada Council for the Arts), isn't too easy to locate here in the US. I've never seen it - let alone heard it. But his followup has mercifully gotten much wider distribution, and shouldn't be too hard to track down. Close to Paradise certainly has its Antony and the Johnsons moments, particularly on the transcendent ballad "The Great Escape." Combined with the rather touching illustrations of the video - created by fellow Montrealers Alex Produkt and Kathleen Weldon - it's a mighty challenge, keeping the eyes dry:
I don't want to lead you into thinking the entirety of the album is contemplative, piano-led excursions into maudlin territory, however. Watson and his band (Simon Angell, Robbie Kuster, and Mishka Stein) are equally comfortable with chamber pop, folk-rock, and even the occasional heavily orchestrated rocker ("Drifters," for example, bears a few similarities to the work of neighbors the Dears), as well as those signature fragile numbers a la "The Great Escape," which do such a fine service to Watson's rapturously filigreed pipes. I suppose it's little surprise, this versatility, when you consider that their primary influences include Nick Drake, Eric Satie, and Jeff Buckley. The first couple of reference points are understandable enough in the context of the previously linked videos, but here's one for chewing over that Jeff Buckley suggestion. It's in the soaring falsetto, kiddos:
So, there you are. Patrick Watson. Owner of an otherworldly voice. Future breaker of hearts everywhere. Top Canadian Artist of 2007. Now, go and spread the word.
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