Elliott Brood’s “Town” isn’t a record, it’s a journey. Not a scenic road trip, mind you, but a backroads rumble through small-town grit and dusty dreams, paved with equal parts heartache and defiant hope. Each song on this eight-track odyssey burrows into the soul of forgotten communities and the characters that populate them, their stories etched in the lines of Brad Sasso’s weathered vocals and the band’s masterful blend of folk and roots rock.
The album kicks off with “Rose City,” a bittersweet ode to the band’s Toronto roots, where nostalgia mingles with the sharp sting of urban shadows. The track sets the tone for the record – raw storytelling punctuated by Mark Sasso’s driving drums and James Elliott’s soaring guitar lines. “Dark End of the Road” follows, its slow-burning intro giving way to a desperate plea for solace amidst the crushing weight of economic hardship. The lyrics, “Paper money burns like winter leaves,” paint a stark picture of struggle, mirroring the desolate beauty of decaying industrial landscapes.
Amidst the desolation, however, glimmers of resilience shine through. “Evelyn” is a tender ballad dedicated to a woman weathering storms both personal and external, her strength echoing in the chorus, “She stands like stone, against the wind.” And in “Paper Money,” the despair gives way to a defiant snarl, Sasso’s voice rising in angry protest against greed and exploitation.
The album isn’t all hardship and grit. “Stars Align” offers a moment of celestial respite, its dreamy soundscape and hopeful lyrics hinting at the possibility of finding meaning in the vastness of existence. But even then, the darkness lurks at the edges. “Dried Up” is a haunting lament for lost love, a stark portrait of a relationship withered by circumstance.
The closer, “Rise Up with Fists,” a cover of Jenny Lewis’s anthem, serves as a potent call to arms. It’s a rally cry for the down-and-out, the forgotten, and the weary, reminding them that their collective voice can still move mountains. As the final notes fade, a sense of quiet defiance lingers, a testament to the enduring spirit of “Town” and its inhabitants.
Elliott Brood’s “Town” is not an easy listen. It’s a record that confronts the harsh realities of life on the margins, the weight of struggle etched into every note. But within that darkness, there’s a spark of hope, a flicker of resilience that refuses to be extinguished. This is a record for those who find beauty in the rustle of forgotten towns, for those who know the strength that lies in weathering the storm. For them, “Town” is a powerful testament to the human spirit, a reminder that even in the darkest corners, life still finds a way to rise. – Jason Felton