Albums by this artist

Lucky To Be Alive (2000)

Movie Music vol. 1 & 2 (2000)

Frame And Canvas (1998)

Interviews

Steely Dan Brainwashed Chicago's Prodigal Son
July 11, 2001

Braid

Frame And Canvas


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Braid
Frame And Canvas
Polyvinyl, 1998
RiYL: Sunny Day Real Estate, The Promise Ring, Jawbox
It sucks that Braid broke up, sure, but look on the bright side -- they went out on top. How many bands (Pavement) will we have to watch recede slowly and pathetically until by the time they finally choke on the last fumes in their engines they are horrible shells of the trendsetters they once were? Any showman will tell you that you always have to leave 'em wanting more, and Frame And Canvas does exactly that. Our memory of Urbana's finest will never be tarnished.

Frame And Canvas is a record that's too good to be described merely with a genre stamp. Calling Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain an indie rock record or Endtroducing a DJ mix misses each's essential greatness. Frame And Canvas is sort of like an emo London Calling, stretching out and connecting with rock history as a whole. Only less pretentious and with no bad ska crossovers. Instead we get the utterly convincing dance-inflected "A Dozen Roses," punker stuff like "Milwaukee Sky Rocket," all manner of harmonies on "Ariel," and a handful of perfect anthems for our generation in "The New Nathan Detroits," "Never Will Come For Us," and the superlative "First Day Back."

Braid here become more than another scene band. They become the scene band. Everyone else will now have to deal with being compared to them. The guitars and impassioned vocals of Frame And Canvas sound from the beginning like indie DNA -- watch for hundreds of little Braids covering "Urbana's Too Dark" as a talisman and searching in vain for a decent left-handed bass player.

The appeal of well-played, honest emo is easy to get the core of. Who can resist a band so excited with the noise it is creating that they can't even wait until the ends of the songs to shout "yeah!"? Frame And Canvas resounds with the joy of rock -- the snapping of guitar strings, trash-talking at the merchandise tables at all-ages shows, peeling the shrinkwrap off a new seven-inch. These are the memories Braid leave us. How can we ask them for anything more?

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