by Jeff Miers
Sloan, “Commonwealth” (Yep Roc). So Sloan finally got around to making its own version of the Beatles’ “White Album.” When the Fabs were beginning to fragment in the late ’60s, that double album allowed them a broad canvas on which to paint individual portraits. Many of the songs were essentially solo efforts from each Beatle, with the others pitching in an idea or two, or not, on a case by case basis. Canada’s greatest-ever power-pop band Sloan takes that idea one further with “Commonwealth,” a double album with each of the four band members grabbing a side for themselves. Jay Ferguson, Chris Murphy, Patrick Pentland and Andrew Scott handle all of the instrumentation, the vocals, the production and the arrangements for their respective album sides, and each of the four’s full musical personality is thus allowed to unfold beneath the Sloan banner. Sloan is that rarest of bands – one where all four members are essentially equally skilled songwriters and multi-instrumentalists. That said, Ferguson, Murphy, Pentland and Scott are markedly different writers, and it has always been this fact that contributed to the depth of Sloan’s catalog. “Commonwealth” opens with “The Jay Side,” and this was a wise move – Ferguson is a power pop classicist whose work echoes aspects of Paul McCartney, early Beach Boys and Todd Rundgren’s “Something/Anything” period. Ferguson drops five ornate slices of orchestral pop and Beatle-esque, harmony-laden rock. Murphy is next at bat, and he, too, bangs one out of the park, again concentrating on power-pop, echoing his finest work on Sloan’s classic “One Chord To Another” and “Navy Blues” albums. Pentland arrives with side 3, with a collection of punk-pop (“13”) Weezer-like pop-metal (“Take It Easy”) and indie-pop (“What’s Inside”). The guy seems to be incapable of writing a tune that doesn’t boast an insanely catchy hook. Side 4 goes to Scott, who completely unsurprisingly goes for a more avant-garde approach. “48 Portraits” is a multitiered composition that begins with the sound of a dog barking atop a percussion pulse and atonal piano playing, and then proceeds for 18 minutes through various aspects of Scott’s iconoclastic personality. It’s a stunning, albeit very strange, piece of work. Taken together, these four individual sides add up to one of the finest albums of Sloan’s storied career.
--taken from: The Buffalo News
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