An ambitious double album consisting of a "Canadian" side and an "American" side, mercurial English-Canadian singer/songwriter
John Southworth's
Niagara is a triumph of both style and substance, a glowing pastiche of sunset-driven '70s soft rock and heady, jazz-tinged chamber pop that invokes names like
Scott Walker,
Cass McCombs,
Jacques Brel,
Louis Philippe,
Harry Nilsson,
Paolo Conte,
David Ackles, and
Gilbert O'Sullivan. Disarmingly subtle yet flush with enough confectionary touches and left-field presence (not to mention pure craftsmanship) to warrant cult status among smart-pop aficionados,
Niagara goes down so easy that most listeners will need more than a few spins to realize how rich of a tonic it is, as
Southworth's seemingly reticent (at first) whisper of a voice and his backing band the South Seas' economical playing don't exactly beg for attention, but such love and care are taken that the effect is something akin to being led through a tour of a historical home by the original owner. While there is no overarching narrative,
Niagara's two volumes dutifully evoke images of their respective mainlands; the Canadian side employs a softer, more wintry and nostalgic quality than its more headstrong (though no less melancholic) stateside counterpart, with most of the standout cuts like "Fiddler Crossed the Border," "The Horse That Swam Across the Sea," and "Ode to the Morning Sky" arriving via the side with the better view of the falls. That said, they are essentially two sides of the same coin, and
Southworth seems less concerned with fanning any nationalistic flames and more interested in using the region as a backdrop with which to allow his characters to strut and fret their hours upon the stage, which they do with a remarkable amount of stoicism; much more than Shakespeare would ever have allowed. ~ James Christopher Monger