Lost Channels

Album review

Toronto's Great Lake Swimmers have been quietly honing their signature wet and lonesome, echo-laden brand of mellow folk-pop since 2005, while like-minded bands such as Fleet Foxes, Band of Horses and Shearwater get all of the press. On their fourth album, Tony Dekker and his revolving cast of co-conspirators walk a little taller than on previous releases, employing a larger, more band-oriented sound that lovingly elevates (and amplifies) Dekker's simple, refined melodies into something both peaceful and majestic. Recorded in castles, churches, and community centers in and around the Saint Lawrence River's Thousand Islands, which straddle the U.S.-Canada border, Lost Channels is filled with sepia-tone postcard images of dusty boots following the treads on seasonal roads, and pastoral woodcuts of stoic, blue-collar heartache and wide-eyed innocence. From the old-school country-folk of "The Chorus in the Underground" and "Unison Falling into Harmony" to the straight-up indie folk-rock of "Pulling on a Line" and "Palmistry" -- the latter, as beautiful as it is owes more than just an instrumentation nod to R.E.M.'s "Losing My Religion" -- Great Lake Swimmers have proven once again that Canada, as rich as it is in arty indie rock like Destroyer, Plants and Animals, and Wolf Parade, is also the country that gave the world Neil Young, Gordon Lightfoot, and Joni Mitchell.

© James Christopher Monger /TiVo