MR. WEATHER - CANADA

MR. WEATHER - 7 - ART GATES  
Whether the album's name refers to the deadly sins is unclear, but there are seven animals depicted on the album's charming cover artwork. From there, the Canadian band evokes mixed feelings in this listener. The band's monicker Mr. Weather - which reminds one of Mr. Mister - aside, the output has an uneven consistency with both highlights and corny missteps that make the listener wince.
Let's tackle the lyrics first. From socially conscious and moralistic to a cheesy voicemail by a jilted lover, the lyrics are all over the place. We'll come back to this last point in a moment. Musically, there are some progressive-isms here, but there is also acoustic strumming, along with rock and hard rock sounds on the record. The leads are the band's strong suit and there are certainly several great riffs on 7. The bass - check out Eat Or Be Eaten - sounds great. The same song offers a fabulous riff. The song Gold is a little prog and has a golden solo at its end. Spiral Of Fate offers good vocals, but it reminds me of another song that I just can't place at the moment (anyone know?). The slow song is one of the band's better ones and has a solo that Dream Theater would be proud of. With that said, 'stop whining and start mopping the floor' has me laughing.
Then we get to the song Voice Mail. It is an embarrassing track that is one of the cringest (admittedly staged) voice-mails ever left by a loser... or alternately, one of the most courageous moments put on tape ever. After all, someone would be supremely brave to record this definition of cringeworthiness and make it available to the public. It is so bad that I almost forgot about the Southern rock strumming underneath the words (which on its own would make any fan of classy music uncomfortable). The narrator offers a recording of a voicemail he left a woman he had sex with, yet has not heard from in "months." The 'man' speaks to himself and simultaneously answers unasked questions during the same message. He tells the woman he hopes she's been doing "good" and goes on to put her, - remember she didn't answer the phone - on a pedestal before becoming passive-aggressive with her. Hey man, it's been "months," so move on. Per the voice-mail, you did everything to please her and she hasn't spoken to you in months, so telling her you are better for her than her current man, despite all that, is pathetic. The man/voice-mail goes on to ask, 'Why have you suddenly become so distant? Is it because I have been persistent?' It is not a normal part of human behaviour when a main character navigating inner conflict, frustration and vulnerability leaves a woman a message about something that happened months ago begging her for one more chance because he did everything for her and pushed everything aside for her… after her not acknowledging him in months! Dude, you just left a two-minute voice-mail for a woman who is sleeping with another guy and who hasn't talked to you in months. She didn't even have the grace to have a voice-mail that cuts you off after 30 seconds! Go listen to Tal Bachman's She's So High on repeat in your room and save yourself the sheer embarrassment. Rather than pitying these emotions, the record frames them as a natural part of the human experience. The whole thing is as embarrassing as driving a Tesla. Worse, driving a Cybertruck Tesla.
Gabriel Drolet-Pollock would do well to sing more and enunciate and speak less. Assuming that's him, his accent is also not contributing to the album. His strength lies in melodic delivery, whereas a more measured, speech-like phrasing clearly diminishes his impact. A slow spoken style exposes the limitations in his delivery. The band's songs, (good) riffs, bass sound and those guitar solos deserved better. - Ali "The Metallian"