Chad VanGaalen: Soft Airplane

Chad VanGaalen sounds a bit like a schizophrenic

son of his fellow Canadian Neil Young. VanGaalen's past collections, cobbled

together from hundreds of songs written years apart, jarringly leapfrogged

styles and themes—it sounded like he needed meds. Settling into his

Calgary basement to pen Soft Airplane gave VanGaalen focus and purpose, making the Neil

Young comparison more appropriate. Mostly recording on an old tape machine and

a boom-box, VanGaalen embraces the charms of the homemade aesthetic: He

delicately layers guitar, banjo, percussion (both standard and unidentifiable),

electronic blips and loops and samples, synthesizers, distortion, and

accordions, but never loses his sophisticated fragility. Whether creaking

through the hollow harmonies of The Shins ("City Of Electric Light") or softly

drifting through wonder-filled banjo-pluckers ("Willow Tree"), Soft Airplane is complex and

deliberate, so that even an attempt at synth-dance ("Phantom Anthills") fits

the hopeful, dreamy country vibe of Young's '60s. VanGaalen's first two Sub Pop

albums were compelling, but Soft Airplane gives him a stronger identity.