Eight years ago, the smart money would've bet against Nick Thorburn becoming one of the more industrious alumni to emerge from the early-2000s Canadian indie-rock uprising-- his endearingly unstable former band, the Unicorns, could barely make it through a set without experiencing some sort of breakdown (be it technical or psychological). But while he has since emerged as the autonomous creative force behind the prog-pop ensemble Islands (tellingly, it was his face alone that graced the cover of 2009's Vapours) and recently released a low key solo album under the name Nick Diamonds (I Am an Attic), Thorburn has not forgotten what made the Unicorns so special: the alternately cheeky and tense dynamic between himself and ex-bandmate Alden Penner. As such, Thorburn has never shied away from the opportunity to match wits with a creative foil, teaming up with Jim Guthrie for the countrified Human Highway detour and, now, squaring off against Ryan Kattner-- aka Honus Honus of Philly carnival barkers Man Man-- in Mister Heavenly.
Thorburn, of course, is no stranger to high-concept side projects (namely, his flirtations with hip-hop in Th' Corn Gangg and Reefer) and, on paper, Mister Heavenly initially reads like a similarly orchestrated lark. The band-- rounded out by Modest Mouse drummer Joe Plummer-- was reportedly devised around a self-explanatory sub-genre they dubbed "doom wop." The stunt-casting of actor Michael Cera as the band's bassist during their spring 2011 tour reinforced the assumption that Mister Heavenly would be a casual, low-stakes endeavor with which Thorburn and Kattner could amuse themselves before returning to their main gigs. But Mister Heavenly's Sub Pop debut proves to be something far more lasting and rewarding: Rather than serve as an outlet for their well-documented eccentric streaks, Thorburn and Kattner's good-cop/bad-cop dynamic yields some of the most tightly focused, immediately engaging songs either principal has produced.
Ironically, it's Plummer's band that seems to wield the most influence on the outset, with Thorburn's ominously quiet verses on the opening "Bronx Sniper" yielding to an immodest, un-mousey grunge crunch and an especially Isaac Brock-ian howl from Kattner. But, as bracing an introduction as it is, the song's angst-rock ballast does not provide the best showcase of Mister Heavenly's charms. These are more readily revealed when the band settle down and put their modernist spin on early, pre-Beatles rock'n'roll balladry and 1960s tropical pop. Parallel-universe golden-oldies like "I Am a Hologram", "Diddy Eyes", and "Hold My Hand" may not fully live up to the transgressive promise of the "doom wop" descriptor but, like fellow 1950s-rock enthusiasts Black Lips and King Khan in their gentler moments, Mister Heavenly approach their AM-radio inspirations with just the right balance of devotion and deviance. (To wit, on the winsome title-track-cum-band-mission-statement "Mister Heavenly", Thorburn is not so much claiming to be the man of your dreams as resigning himself to the impossibility of living up to the matinee-idol ideal.)
Out of Love's playful spirit sometimes crosses the line into unnecessary indulgence-- the rocksteady rhythm of "Reggae Pie" sounds like it'd be fun to groove on in the practice space, but probably didn't need to be featured as the album's longest track (complete with false ending), while the 98-second song that actually bears the title "Doom Wop" doesn't even attempt to honor either half of the equation. (Oddly, its sludgy slop-rock sounds uncannily like a tossed-off Ty Segall demo.) However, at no point does it feel like the players are simply using Mister Heavenly as a dumping ground for leftover song scraps they couldn't work into their primary projects: Every song here comes off like a true, collaborative union of the singers' singular personalities, with Thorburn's calm, childlike voice and Kattner's wizened old-soul rasp trading verses and choruses in surprisingly complementary fashion. The effect is mutually corrupting-- by the time we reach the wonderfully warped pen-pal exchange "Pineapple Girl", Thorburn sounds like the creepy one while Kattner acts as the stabilizing force. Really, no one would ever accuse Islands or Man Man of lacking character and presence, but once Thorburn and Kattner return to their bands after this dalliance, you'll be excused for thinking they'll sound a little bit incomplete without one another.
