Brian Borcherdt will be spending this weekend sharing backstage catering with the likes of Skrillex, Simian Mobile Disco, and Bassnectar at Disco Biscuits' massive Camp Bisco blowout in upstate New York. And that's just another day at the office for Borcherdt and his band Holy Fuck, whose juddering synth-rock is just funky enough to land them regular bookings at EDM festivals. But it's a circumstance that would've seemed preposterous 10 years ago, when Borcherdt first settled in Toronto after moving from his native Nova Scotia. Back then, Borcherdt was first and foremost Leslie Feist's replacement in Toronto power-pop perennials By Divine Right, whose membership also once included a pre-Broken Social Scene Brendan Canning. But, having also launched his own label, Dependent Music, back home, Borcherdt proved to be the industrious sort who threw himself into all manner of recording projects and concept bands; Holy Fuck-- originally a one-off experiment built from effects-pedal loops and film-projector noises-- was the one that just happened to stick, and lent him a steady touring gig that took him beyond Canadian borders.
But throughout all this, Borcherdt has stuck to a rigid exorcise regimen, releasing solo albums of unflinchingly intimate and confessional lo-fi indie pop, the first of which, 2002's Moth, was written in response to the sudden passing of a close friend. The scepter of death-- and the cruelly fleeting nature of life-- has haunted Borcherdt's solo work ever since, as indicated by the monikers he's adopted over the years. In 2004 to 2005, he released two albums as the Remains of Brian Borcherdt; the name attached to his latest project, Dusted, takes that theme of post-mortem decay to even more literal, unnerving extremes.
Technically, Dusted is a duo endeavor with Leon Taheny, aka Owen Pallett's go-to producer, and drummer for Death From Above 1979 stickman Sebastian Grainger's side band, the Mountains. But Total Dust undeniably taps into the same raw-nerved emotion that defined Borcherdt's previous solo efforts, wrapping its cutting sentiments in a grotty guitar fuzz that sounds like it was scraped off the heads on Lou Barlow's old four-track. Total Dust is an album that's consumed with mortality, the fear that "something could go wrong," and the imperative of making the most of your time here. But in Taheny, Borcherdt has found a worthy foil who can help him steer clear of sad-bastard solipsism, introducing luminous textures that lend these recordings a greater sense of space and levity: The mid-album moper "Bruises" may boast Borcherdt's most disaffected vocal on the record, but the song's desolate chill is gradually leavened by sunrise-summoning synths and trippy tremolo effects, while the plaintive "Pale Light" cuts through its surface griminess with spirited violin sweeps.
Total Dust is a record of subtle gestures, to be sure-- the slow-creeping rocker "Property Lines" is the only thing here that sounds like it was meant to be played outside the bedroom. But the album's exploratory ethos manifests itself in Borcherdt's own performances, which see him oscillating between a conversational monotone and childlike coo, bringing a refreshingly playful quality to what could be a sullen songbook: while "(Into the) Atmosphere" grimly implies we're all destined to be reduced to airborne particles, its helium-high hook and spirited shuffle suggests a corner-busker version of the Flaming Lips. If Borcherdt has spent much of his solo career staring down the inevitability of death, on Total Dust he sounds more accepting of that fate. "I'm not sure how long it'll last... the whole thing could collapse," he admits near the album's end, but his chill, cheery demeanor suggests he's happy to let the pieces fall where they may.
