Sometimes, we think that Toronto is Timbuktu. Discover (or almost) Justin Rutledge on his tenth album (not counting the three from the group Early Winters, released at the same time). Active for two decades, quarantine started. Two mentions for the Polaris. Once, I saw his name among Melissa McClelland’s collaborators, long before the Whitehorse adventure, an English-Canadian duo much appreciated here. Go figure. It’s very beautiful, however, Rutledge: cozy atmosphere, diaphanous timbre, not too strong soul groove, enveloping bass, panoramic guitars. General delicacy that borders on bewitchment, surfing on boredom without plunging into it. Among the Half Moon Run and Patrick Watson, revered among us, there must be a place for these fine evocations of the passage of time (Angry Young Man, Seventeenthe sumptuous London). If the Justin had a low voice, you’d think Leonard Cohen, at times, that’s saying something. Listen carefully, it may happen, distance abolished.
To see in video