[review 2006: the honourable mentions]

Finding new music is occasionally a chore. It’s certainly not as easy as it used to be, when I was a teenager and all I did was suck down MP3s from random FTP sites and read the now-defunct Addicted To Noise and Wall of Sound. So whenever I find someone in a place I didn’t expect, it’s cause for celebration. I picked up the latest Essex Green album on a whim and loved it, found Handsomeboy Technique from a single MP3 posted on a message board I frequent, and essentially discovered electronica years ago thanks to a video game.

One of my volunteer gigs was holding a launch party, and we had a couple of bands lined up, as you do for these sorts of things. Some of the names I recognized because we’d seen them before at other launches or in the magazine I volunteer for, but Laura Barrett’s was one I’d never heard before that day, when I showed up to do merch. When I met her I thought she was just someone who showed up really early; someone else who was just a fan of the magazine had already found us about an hour before we were slated to start. I didn’t realize she was slated to perform until she gave us some expert help with the PA system.

Barrett was the headliner for an evening show, and after seeing what she was going to play I was a bit worried: it was a kalimba, basically a very small piano you play with your thumbs. Barrett was going to follow a punk band and a high-energy dance troupe, and she was going to have to compete with one of Toronto’s many jazz festivals just outside the art gallery where we’d set up shop. How on earth was this small woman and her quiet kalimba supposed to keep anyone’s attention after all that? As the sun went down and the outside noise level went up, I started to worry a bit.

I shouldn’t have been concerned, because two songs into her set she had her entire audience sitting crosslegged on the floor in rapt attention. With her combination of charming stage banter, slightly loopy lyrics and breathtaking artistry, she’d managed to cast a spell on the audience that even the flamenco band just outside the doors couldn’t break. She’d brought ten CDs to sell that day, and sold them all in a flash. Luckily for me, she kept number eleven tucked away just in case, its ornate packaging slightly defective but otherwise in fine condition.

I honestly have no idea whether Barrett intends to make her solo career a going concern, as she’s already got a pretty full load; she’s a touring member of the Hidden Cameras and she also plays with Henri Fabergé and the Adorables. If Earth Sciences is all we get, it’ll be a shame—five gorgeous songs just isn’t enough. Barrett weaves intricate songs like musical labyrinths in which you can lose yourself; despite only picking up the kalimba less than two years ago, she sounds like a pro, spinning complex note patterns as if they were nothing. She’s similarly adept at singing, her dulcet tones a lush counterpoint to the music. But Barrett’s music isn’t just beautiful, it’s also just a bit absurd; she covers Weird Al and sings about robot ponies, two obvious nerd pride badges. Is it any wonder that she’s opened for Final Fantasy in the past?

Give Laura Barrett half a chance and she’ll put you in a trance. Earth Sciences is an intimate and alluring listen, flawed only by its brevity. Apparently there’s a second EP in the works. One can only hope.

After writing this review, I discovered that Earth Sciences actually came out last year. For anyone keeping score, that’s twice so far this list. But it’s a great EP and I really do think it’s worth your time, so forgive me if I decide to fudge this one a little. Dating self-released material is always a bit sketchy anyways.

Also, if you’re interested in hunting down a copy, her MySpace profile says e-mailing her is your best bet. Or, if you live in Toronto, hit up Soundscapes.