Ever since Born Ruffians frontman Luke LaLonde introduced his band's self-titled debut in 2006 with the strangled ululations of a pubescent Black Francis, Born Ruffians have adopted a "play it live first, ask questions later" approach that could be endearingly sloppy (2008's Red Yellow & Blue) or exasperatingly sophomoric (2010's Say It).
Earlier this year, LaLonde struck out on his own with Rhythymnals, which he worked on with the Rural Alberta Advantage producer Roger Leavens. Besides establishing him as a different kind of mopey singer-songwriter-- the guy that would name his band's next album after his and his girlfriend's matching birthmarks-- the process gave LaLonde production experience that he in turn brought to Birthmarks along with Leavens, and for the first time Born Ruffians recorded songs together in the studio before seeing how they worked onstage. The result, for better or worse, smooths over the ragged edges that made Born Ruffians such a rivetingly unpredictable band in the first place.
A few months ago, LaLonde gave an interview in which he mentioned that Toronto's BoomBox Studios, where Born Ruffians recorded Birthmarks, doubled as a commercial songwriting outlet. "I think that means that Roger has to be able to adapt to survive, he needs to be able to do whatever they need him to do. If the ad direction is folky and they say they need a 'Mumford and Sons vibe,' Roger needs to be able to do that well and execute it in a convincing way," he said. It didn't seem to occur to him that might be why so many bands are suing companies for using barely concealed rip-offs of their songs in commercials. At times, Birthmarks seems to come from this place.
This is as much LaLonde's doing as Leavens'; Red Yellow & Blue's "Little Garcon" appeared in an American Express commercial in 2011, after all. Regardless, the harmonies on "Needle" are libelously close to those of Fleet Foxes, the chorus to "6-5000" wouldn't be out of place on A Hundred Miles Off, and "With Her Shadow" borrows Vampire Weekend's appropriated bass lines, even if bassist Mitch DeRosier gives them an extra salty twang. Of course musicians borrow from each other all the time-- and the upshot is that LaLonde and his band mates have developed quite a versatile range-- but these hooks stand out from Born Ruffians' emphatically original material, even if their earlier albums could sound homemade to the point of collapse.
But commercial songwriters know what sounds good, and much of Birthmarks is catchy enough to get stuck in your head, if not necessarily memorable enough to stay there. On "Too Soaked To Break", the way LaLonde's reverbed voice ripples over keyboardist Andy Lloyd's arpeggios and woodwinds inspires such complacency that you almost don't notice the same flute melody in the chorus of following track "Dancing on the Edge of Our Graves". LaLonde isn't too shabby of a pop songwriter himself: after screeching about needing someone to have sex with on Born Ruffians, he disarmed fans with the studied boy-band swagger of "I always said I'd be your boyfriend, and that's that" on Rhythymnals' "Undone". He works out these newfound romantic inclinations on "Permanent Hesitation", awkwardly gushing, "I am just a lotus/ And you are just a vine/ I am just a gnome/ And you are so divine." A song later, LaLonde is back to his old ways with "nothing but lust" for someone else's girlfriend, so maybe not that much has changed.
It's still too early to say if the same can be said of Born Ruffians. Birthmarks is their most refined release to date, thanks to Leavens and LaLonde's production sensibilities and the addition of Lloyd, all of which helped fill widening cracks in the band's former drums/guitar/vocals setup. While those factors may have stopped Born Ruffians' total disintegration after things started to fall apart on Say It, they also snuffed out the strung-out charm of three guys constantly on the verge of losing their cool. And that's a loss the band should remember not to take lightly.
