Information/Write-up
The sixth studio album by Paul Hayden Desser arrives only 15 months or so after the release of his last record, the well-received In Field and Town. There’s always been something pleasingly anachronistic about this unassuming Canadian troubadour, who with his low-key profile and intimate, warm and wry songs, seems as if he might have been more at home in the 1970s golden age of the singer-songwriter. Neither exceptionally exciting nor totally dull, the bulk of Hayden’s output thus far certainly doesn’t scale the heights of a Joni Mitchell, a James Taylor or a Neil Young, and it might be argued that he has yet to make a truly great, essential album. But there’s a friendly, reliable and unforced quality to his work that remains rather appealing.
Backed on several tracks by members of Oshawa band Cuff the Duke and with producer Howie Beck adding some interesting subtle textures, Hayden continues his increasingly mellow amalgam of country, folk, pop and rock on this new record. With its twangy guitar, gentle drums and piano, the title track makes for a lovely, enticing opener, as Hayden’s dusky vocals intone the evocative, nostalgic lyrics with conviction and warmth. Graced by a late blast of wheezy harmonica, “Message From London” boasts the album’s most intriguing narrative. The piano-led “Disappear” is haunting and percussive, while “The Valley” borrows the title of his compatriot Jane Siberry’s wide-screen epic for a rootsy instrumental. Despite some fairly mediocre lyrics, “Let’s Break Up” is a pleasantly direct and blithe kiss-off.
At times, there can seem to be little that separates an effective Hayden song from a bland one, since he uses some of the same components in both. A couple of tracks in the wispy Nick Drake mold drift by without generating much stir, and there are moments here that could’ve fitted happily onto a Dawson’s Creek soundtrack album, circa 1997. But the bursts of electric guitar in the excellent “Dilapidated Hearts” are invigorating; the elegant country waltz of “Never Lonely” is effortlessly seductive; and the quiet, tender closer “Let It Last” gently touches the heart.
At just ten tracks, and with a very modest running time of only 30 minutes, The Place Where We Lived feels slight and could certainly have done with a little more meat on its bones. It’s an unassertive album that breaks no new ground, but by this stage, Hayden devotees probably wouldn’t expect or desire it to. Overall, though, and despite its brevity, this respectable collection of songs represents a satisfying addition to his catalogue.
-PopMatters, June 24, 2009
Shambolic tenderness runs through the ten songs on The Place Where We Lived, the sixth record from Canadian singer-songwriter Hayden, whose gone by only one name since he made his first album in 1994. Over a backdrop of Wurlitzer guitar, organs and the occassional flourish of trumpet and trombone, Hayden's cracked Jeff Teedy-esque vocals reveal sad stories of Northern Ontario while an uptempo rhythm guitar places him above and beyond his navel-gazing peers.
Some credit for tone must go to producer Howie Beck, whose most recent album sounded like Elvis Costello meets the Beach Boys. While Hayden has worked alone for the past eleven years, Beck's contributions lend many of the break-up songs a toe-tapping, jukebox appeal. It takes a special talent to sing about "filling a room with sadness," in a voice which suggests a smile on the musician's face. Hayden may be pissed-off and beaten, but he's too wry to simply be sad.
A third of the album has a pronounced country and western feel. Backed up on several tracks by members of Oshawa's Cuff the Duke, saloon ballads like Never Lonely are given a kick in the torn denim pants thanks to steel guitars, keyboard and trombone. Indeed, on much of the record, Hayden almost sounds like Tom Petty singing with his Travelling Wilburys, a radical departure for a musician known as a hermit recording artist.
While less of a break-out album than last year's In Field and Town, which many believed was Canada's album of the year, this 30-minute record instead has a breezy musicality and campfire vibe. The Valley is an instrumental that features Hayden playing his heart out on the banjo and Dilapidated Heart mixes a simple accoustic guitar strum with a nasty electronic wallop to create something which sounds like a lost Neil Young and Crazy Horse tape. "I left you with so much sorrow, you just faded and wore down," Hayden sings over Howie Beck's bass and drums.
The best song on the record is called Let's Break Up and it's a kiss-off to an old lover whose title practically demands an exclamation mark. "If you're 'gonna leave me, don't be teasing, you need to take a stand," Hayden sings on the shuffling record which sounds like it was recorded in Nashville. "If you're going to mess up, give me a heads up, I need to make some plans." On The Place Where We Lived, recorded after tours with The National and Feist, Hayden indeed sounds like a man with a plan. After all, making sad songs you can dance to takes a steady, deliberate hand.
-Ben Kaplan, Vancouversun, May 26, 2009
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