Small Sins

Mood Swings, the new album from Small Sins, starts with a bangóliterally. ìIf you give me the gun, well, I'll shoot myself in the footî are the first words on the album sung by Small Sins frontman/mastermind Thomas DíArcy. He doesnít stop there. Nearly every song on Mood Swings ricochets with gun imageryóa stunning contrast to the albumís hypnotic tapestry of shimmering electronics, organic instrumentation, and DíArcyís ongoing quest for the most shameless pop hooks possible. ìIt wasnít on purpose,î DíArcy explains, claiming that, other than a short stint in his university gun club, heís no firearms enthusiast. ìItís a good metaphor for what I was trying to say this time. A loaded weapon is something anxious: thereís always the underlying potential to explode.î

Donít be surprised, then, if Mood Swings, DíArcyís second album under the Small Sins moniker, blows up: heís aiming at newer, higher targets following the success of Small Sinsí self-titled 2006 Astralwerks debut. Small Sins proved a masterpiece of wistful chamber-pop, its hushed, electro-tinged narratives of love lost and found finding wide acclaim. Blender called it a ìlovely piece of campfire synth-popî, while Spin opined memorably, ìImagine if Jack White had a crush on Kraftwerk.î But after touring the US relentlessly with the likes of Scissor Sisters, The Kooks, The Little Ones, Sloan, and Radio 4, DíArcyís modus operandi for Small Sins began to change. For one, it started to resemble an actual rock band. Well, sort of, anywayÖ
Originally, DíArcy consciously conceived Small Sins as a self-contained solo unit. A veteran of the vital Toronto, Canada indie scene thatís produced the varied likes of Arcade Fire, Feist, Godspeed You Black Emperor, Peaches, and Broken Social Scene, DíArcy had played since 1996 in the Britpop-influenced Carnations, and was burnt out on the band dynamicís pseudo-democracy. As a result, D'Arcy not only sang and played nearly every instrument on Small Sinsí debut, but also wrote, produced, and recorded it almost entirely on his own. However, when he put together a touring band with four exceptional musiciansóSteve Krecklo (guitar, banjo, keyboards) Todor Kobakov (keyboards), Brent Follett (drums), and Kevin Hilliard (percussion, handclaps)óSmall Sins started to evolve anew. DíArcy had been puzzled by Small Sinsí initial comparisons to the likes of Postal Service and Grandaddy. Once people started seeing the band live, however, critical assessments flew all over the place. Some heard Talking Heads, or the Buzzcocks, or Neil Youngóindicating that Small Sins was coming into its own sound. DíArcy himself thinks Small Sinsí revitalized sonics sound like ìëWilco meets Devo.î ìThat actually kind of makes sense, doesnít it?,î he adds with a laugh.
DíArcy found performing live actually transformed Mood Swingsí material, too. Heíd already recorded a solo version of the new albumís first single, ìOn The Lineîóa deceptively catchy tale of retribution with a massive singalong chorus. However, he felt it paled next to the driving live version, and re-recorded it with the full band on a day off following a Los Angeles tour stop. Even his vocals were changing as a result of the live show. ìThe first recordís low, whispery stuff was hard to project, so I put everything up an octave to sing it live,î he explains. ìOnce I started singing more, I got more creative with the melodies I was coming up with. I really found my range, and it made the new songs so much more vivid.î
Off the road, the touring ensemble found themselves occasionally writing together, making it inevitable that D'Arcy would involve the band members in the making of Mood Swings. Typically, the players rarely worked together at the same time. Instead, DíArcy brought in individual members to add unique flavor to the songs, like Steve Kreckloís haunting banjo plucking on the gorgeous ballad ìMorning Face,î moving them between his basement, traditional studios, and other unexpected spaces (Toronto rapper K-OS, a friend of the band, even loaned DíArcy his personal digital playground for a year). Mood Swings' experimental but collaborative approach extended even to the albumís mix process, for which DíArcy traveled to Chicago to work with legendary studio guru John McEntire (Tortoise, Stereolab, Sea and Cake, Mary Timony). ìJohn was greatóhe added so much,î DíArcy explains. ìI didnít expect any radical changes to the songs, but then he busted out all these weird synths! Iíd say, ìIím not so into this bass part; do whatever you want.í Then Iíd leave for an hour, come back and itíd be like, ëHoly fuck!í That wouldnít have happened on the last record.î
Indeed, Mood Swings proves even richer and more assured than what DíArcy himself felt he was ever capable of. Like an electro-pop remix of a Coen Brothers movie, the album belies DíArcyís darkly humorous ruminations on longing and revenge with seductively cheery upbeats on tracks like ìOn The Runî and ìDrunk E-Mail. ìItís saying, ëJust because Iím drunk, it doesnít mean I donít know what Iím writing to you is true,íî D'Arcy explains of the latter. Each song provides a major stepping stone in DíArcyís mission to create the ideal pop artifact with Mood Swings: a cycle that works track-by-track for the iPod generation, but ultimately stands on its own. ìI made Mood Swings for those music fans who still actually listen to albumsóit should be experienced as a whole,î DíArcy explains. ìAt the same time, when I was kid, I mostly listened to oldies radio hits, like Elvis and Chubby Checker, so Iím obsessed with the idea of the simple, perfect pop song. Thatís the most important thing: whatever the instrumentation, I want everything to be quick, catchy, and always pop.î