counting the cost of having loved and lost: вЂњThereвЂ™s a million, billion, trillion stars/But IвЂ™m down here low, fussing over scars,вЂќ they wheedle in perfect, almost-captivating unison. Elsewhere, вЂњInfinitesimalвЂќ sees Ryan Guldemond and co.

Even as far as modern anti-love anthems go, this one stands out as being particularly vitriolic. вЂњMommy did it, daddy did it вЂ“ even though I bet they wish they really didnвЂ™t,вЂќ chants the band en masse over a bumpy, unforgiving guitar section. ItвЂ™s almost as if the band is deliberately leading us on, all the while casting furtive glances over their shoulder to see how far, exactly, we will follow them into the great unknown.Д®ven the albumвЂ™s more convivial cuts reek of a certain amount of cynicism: lead single вЂњLetвЂ™s Fall in LoveвЂќ, for one, is decidedly very much against doing exactly that. Take, for instance, the albumвЂ™s penultimate track, вЂњWaiting for the World to EndвЂќ, which features Ryan Guldemond singing the lines, вЂњEverybody come with me/LetвЂ™s throw ourselves off HubbardвЂ™s Peak/And weвЂ™ll tumble down the mountainside/Into the mouth of all our great divides.вЂќ While it certainly doesnвЂ™t mark the first time that Mother Mother have exhibited lemming-like tendencies within their lyrics, thereвЂ™s a certain disingenuous, Pied Piper of Hamelin air about this particular round of artist-assisted suicide. Even fans of the bandвЂ™s more off-the-handle, wildly uneven tracks from their previous records would do well to take note that this really isnвЂ™t the same sort of over-the-top, mildly-scary pantomime melodrama that ran down the nervous centre of songs like вЂњTry to ChangeвЂќ or вЂњFar in TimeвЂќ, but something much more sinister altogether. Yet the manner in which they have designed The Sticks to deliberately escape вЂ“ nay, shirk вЂ“ its duty of care is jarring, for not once does the record give pause to disguise the overarching sense of dreariness with which it dresses its proposition, to the point that one might even accuse it of reveling in our despair. In a world that seems to continuously teeter on the brink of losing all meaning, this comes as a powerful thesis statement, and Mother Mother is canny enough to know as much. 'It's about the peace of the soul вЂ“ the soul's tranquillity, and how it can be disrupted by all this information and vapid communication flying around via technology,вЂќ he added. 'Much of the themes wrap around this longing to escape the clutches of the modern world and get back in 'the sticks' вЂ“ retreat to a simpler, almost more logical place,' he explained in a recent interview with Postmedia News. But singer and lead guitarist Ryan Guldemond is quick to suggest that their new-found sobriety is borne out of a society-wide disenfranchisement with the modern age, which theyвЂ™ve simply seen more and more of lately. Initially, it seems quite surprising that a band which built its reputation around an overall sense of quirkiness and shameless whimsicality could turn into a bunch of graying middle-agers overnight. What IвЂ™m not so cool with, though, is the fact that in shedding all the traits that made them so unique and memorable, the band has ended up creating a face that only a mother could love (ha). DonвЂ™t get me wrong вЂ“ all of this is actually pretty fine by me. This time out, the Vancouver five-piece are obsessed with the end of the world, disillusioned by the times in which they find themselves in, and too distracted by the gaping maw of self-isolation opening up before their feet to the point that they kind of forget to live a little. And by that, I mean that virtually every single thing you remembered вЂ“ perhaps even cherished вЂ“ about the band from records past has disappeared completely. Right, so letвЂ™s cut straight to the chase: if youвЂ™re thinking of picking up the fourth Mother Mother LP in search of more of the same energetic, catchy-as-hell vibe that characterized their last two releases, then youвЂ™re in for a disappointment вЂ“ The Sticks is a different beast entirely. Review Summary: A face only a mother could love.

Mother mother the sticks album cover