Wherever all this rock is coming from in what we used to call country bands, I ain't complaining. I mean, clearly it worked for the Jayhawks and Old 97's, so National Dust may as well dive in, too.

There's lots of room in the pool.

Not to say that Calgary's Dust lacks shuffling ranch music. Before You Wear the Grindstone is a fine example, sad and snaky. Other than that, though, there's a lot of minor-key pop twang here, songs about cigarettes, booze and women, and even one about us here in Edmonton. That one's called Whyte Avenue Pinwheel and has a bit of anger stapled through its nipple. Seems someone in our lovely hamlet, a local musical hero of some sort, made singer-songwriter Lorrie Matheson mad by talking too big and doing nothing about it. It reminds me of about 106 people I know, so if you know who you are, pay attention: National Dust thinks you smell like dead raccoons.

Contrasting this, earlier in the album, is a statement about being able to be broke and miserable here in Alberta, so why move to California?

Lorrie seems to have a lot of ideas about things, which is why this ends up being a pretty good record.

The strongest song is the opener, Tragedy Ann, and maybe a little bit more diversity would have pulled this out of the above-average category into naked excellence.

Still, I dig Matheson's attitude and he has great hair, so what more do you need?

Autobiographical songs with real post-punk emotion always make for a good afternoon listen on the back porch, especially if they're general enough to hit home a little like on that Edmonton song.

Hell Is Other People is another nice and mean one, possibly even too mean, but maybe you don't have someone hanging around you wish would drop off the CN Tower. (More on: National Dust).

Saturday, May 19, 2001

E-Town gets a nod