Ongiara is named for the vessel the Great Lake Swimmers took to reach their initial recording studio on Toronto Island. But the real gem in this band's acoustics goes deservedly to Aeolian Hall in London, Ontario, where Vieux Farka Touré and dozens of others have performed, and where most of this album was recorded. The effect is, naturally, that of a live performance, which lends some color and depth to an otherwise bland, somnambulant group of songs.
Some of the contributions from several seasoned collectivists and soloists, including Owen Pallett's string arrangements, add washes of pleasure-- among them, Mike Bonnell's friendly-sounding organ at the edges of "Backstage with the Modern Dancers", or the trickling electric guitar on "Changing Colours". But others-- such as the lead banjo on opener "Your Rocky Spine"-- are ultimately immediately disappointing and distracting. The perpetually slow pace isn't always necessary, either, and ploddingly cliché lyrics like, "Where the wind takes you/ It takes me too/ When you change colors/ I change colors too" add to the dearth of faux-folk motifs. Still, "Colours" has the pleasant ring of Mazzy Star: The subtle, lilting melody and assumedly natural reverbs are perfectly at home with the grunge aperitifs of the 90s.
Like many a competent folk singer, Tony Dekker has a full, warm voice that's perfectly suited to the recording atmosphere and the acoustic guitar, but it would be more enjoyable to see Dekker's vocals paired up with Lewis & Clarke's complex, energetic string arrangements. If there are half a dozen additional instrumentalists on this album, most of the time you can't tell, whereas Lewis & Clarke's small number still manages to sound like a controlled experiment in one guitar's response to nature, and each other instrument's response to it. "Put There By the Land" has the body and weight-- with just a few thick bass plucks early on and string pizzicato later-- to provide the shy vivacity the first half of the album could have used, and periodic electric guitar strums show us just the faintest glimmer of rock. "Land" also harkens back to sea shanties with pretty repetition from the violin, rather than being feather-light or overly ruminative.
Lovers (and players) of the guitar see intricacy in even its most subtle melodic inventions, and the beginning of "Where in the World Are You" shows potential. The lyrical narrative is also stronger, and benefits from surprising yet simple rhymes: "I looked for you up in the tallest of trees/ Swayed back and forth in the mid-autumn breeze/ When the leaves reddened and left too/ I knew then that it wasn't you." Still, what detracts from this album is just how light it is: It doesn't need anger, darkness, or mania to prop it up, but it does need variety and vivacity, something only tempo changes and more frequent sprinklings of different tones and bolder instrumentation could accomplish.
