What We Lost in the Flood (2018)

STEW marked the beginning of Papa Ghostface MK II. It was the first PG album most people ever heard, though it was the ninth album Gord and I made as a duo, and our twenty-first album together overall if you include GWD albums, a few early cassettes, and the blink-and-you-missed-it Adam Russell Project.

This is not a continuation. It’s an ending. Gord and I have gone as far as we can together personally and musically. It felt that way even before the album was finished, which is one of the reasons I ended up completing it on my own. I wasn’t expecting it to work out that way. It just happened.

Last time around there were a few songs I wrote alone and played almost all the instruments on, along with a few that began as ideas Gord brought to the table, but for the most part it was a shared vision, with the two of us contributing in equal amount to each song’s genetic makeup and final form. We even wrote some of the lyrics together for the first time.

This time the songs fall into three distinct categories.

There are the collaborative pieces where we did it the old-fashioned way, writing or improvising the music together while the lyrics were left for me to come up with on my own (Peruvian Mountain Song, Stepping Stone on the Way to Better Things, Crawlspace Waltz, and Blue Rose).

There’s one of Gord’s babies — a song he’d been kicking around in one form or another for at least a decade (Rook). He was responsible for most of the words and music there, though I added and adjusted a few lines while contributing arrangement ideas and fleshing things out. I assumed Gord would want to sing that one himself. For whatever reason, he seemed happier letting me sing it.

And then there are the songs Gord had nothing to do with at the writing or recording stages, that are my work alone (Pop Song #82, Conscience of the Everyman, Blinded by the Evening Sun, Prayer for Redemption, Rivulets, Born Free, Died ExpensivelyWinter Holds No Love, The Mind Is Not a Tapeworm, Lean Years, Just Can’t Seem to Get It Right, Actuator, Stars in the Shotgun Night, and Cessna 172 Skyhawk, Stranded). Every Angry Element features a few bursts of “noise guitar” I asked Gord to contribute but is otherwise a solo piece. And though he plays a bit on Flood and FistsMeet Me in the Middle of the Ocean, and The Evil Angel on Your Shoulder, those are more or less solo pieces too.

All in all, this one’s much more my own unfiltered musical vision.

If STEW got you in the door, I like to think of this as an album that leads you into a large attic filled with strange relics and leaves you to find your way with nothing but a failing flashlight and a half-eaten bag of Pringles. It’s the longest Papa Ghostface album since SHOEBOX PARADISE, though it doesn’t stretch out to double-CD territory the way that one did.

Flood and Fists comes swinging out of the gate with an “ambient jazz from hell” introduction that gives way to a long, atmospheric exploration of groove and mood before crumbling into a small sea of warped and smeared string quartet samples. Brent Lee (one of two guests) plays some phenomenal soprano sax that takes the song right out into the stratosphere.

From there things careen all over the place, segueing from moody instrumentals to shoegaze-folk to psychedelic weirdness and back again.

Conscience of the Everyman is the mandatory spoken word piece, moving away from the impressionism of STEW‘s “Gun to the Temple” and back to the warped storytelling of old. If it’s the last PG “talky” there’s ever going to be, it feels like a good way to go out, poised on a knife-edge between comedy and horror. The music is as demented as the story it clothes, with some fiery processed trumpet from Austin Di Pietro (guest number two).

If Blue Rose is a reminder of the intricate musical interplay we were capable of at our best, Rivulets, Cessna, and Born Free are examples of songs I never could have recorded with Gord (I tried; he had no interest in them). It’s an interesting dichotomy, having some of our final collaborative moments sharing space with a lot of things I was only able to do on my own after breaking away from the collaboration and the limitations it imposed on me. You’d expect some amount of disjointedness to come out of that. Instead, I think it makes for a stronger album. It might not be as immediate as STEW, and there might not be an individual song as striking as that album’s hinge-point “Remorse Code”, but there’s a different overall rhythm at work here. It’s more cumulative by design.

I had some fun working imagery from Alain Rocha’s cover art into the songs and song titles, lending them a thematic weight that’s rare in my body of recorded work. Not that this is a concept album. I don’t really work that way. But just as the artwork’s bright colours and emphasis on life emerging from chaos surprised me (I gave Alain free reign to interpret the album title however he saw fit), the songs followed suit, their elegiac quality ultimately giving way to a certain amount of battered hope.

All things considered, this feels like a good way to put Papa Ghostface to bed — at least until I compile a posthumous collection of misfit songs to take care of some unfinished business.

Sleep tight. Don’t let the pillowcase bite.


Flood and Fists
Conscience of the Everyman
Peruvian Mountain Song
Just Can’t Seem to Get It Right
The Evil Angel on Your Shoulder
Every Angry Element
Stepping Stone on the Way to Better Things
Cessna 172 Skyhawk, Stranded
Meet Me in the Middle of the Ocean
Blinded by the Evening Sun
Prayer for Redemption
Crawlspace Waltz
Pop Song #82
Lean Years
Blue Rose
Winter Holds No Love
Born Free, Died Expensively
The Mind Is Not a Tapeworm
Stars in the Shotgun Night


The Evil Angel on Your Shoulder