Emily Haines: Knives Don't Have Your Back
This album is a massive departure from Emily Haines' work with Metric and Broken Social Scene. Gone are the rock guitars, the prominent beats, and all of the noise. What's left is essentially just Emily and her piano-- which, as it turns out, is all we really need.
Review by Dave Anastasi
My first exposure to Emily Haines (though I didn't know it at the time) was her work on Broken Social Scene's fantastic self-titled album. Most of that record is rather noisily produced, and for the most part, the lyrics are indecipherable without the CD booklet in your hand. However, almost a half hour into the effort, the turmoil ceases temporarily for a true breath of fresh air: Swimmers. The carefree beat and soothing vocals allow the listener to exhale. It's beautiful. It's Emily Haines.
Prior to working with Broken Social Scene, Haines collaborated with James Shaw on various musical projects in a partnership that eventually became the band Metric. They've enjoyed adequate success in their home country of Canada, and continue to put out decent indie electro-pop/rock.
Knives Don't Have Your Back, Emily Haines' first widely released solo album, is a massive departure from both Metric and Broken Social Scene. Gone are the rock guitars, the prominent beats, and all of the noise. What's left is essentially just Emily and her piano-- which, as it turns out, is all we really need. Sure, there are plenty of strings, horns, guitars, and drums here as well, but every sound on this record other than voice and piano is expendable. Which isn't to say that the supporting cast isn't doing it's job well-- quite the contrary: it's performing its job perfectly.
Fall is my favorite season. The days get shorter but time slows down for me. I love the sounds that the heaters in my apartment make when they spring into action after seven months of hibernation. I love the smell of dead leaves and firewood. I love dragging out the down comforter on that first really cold night. I love dusting off a bottle of bourbon and taking that first sip. And, I love music like this. Its warmth, melancholy, and serenity make for the perfect accompaniment to these cold autumn nights.
This album finds Haines opening her heart and letting the world in to see it all. The result is at times so dark and lonesome that I almost feel guilty enjoying it so much. But, there is an air of contentment seeping out of her sadness: "All this weight is honest worse / We're moderate, we modernize / Til our hell is a good life / All we know what to forget... how to do right / Coloring in the black hole." This sentiment is echoed frequently throughout the course of the album, both in her lyrics and her delivery.
One of the highlights of the album is Doctor Blind, a commentary on the ineffectiveness of psychiatrists in dealing with cases of depression. Emily's voice really shines here, particularly in the lower register, making hopelessness sound beautiful.
The album's darkest moments follow in Crowd Surf Off A Cliff, an exceptionally heavy piece of songwriting. "Rather give the world away / than wake up lonely / Everywhere in every way / I see you with me," Haines laments. She sounds downright exhausted here, as if she's taking her last breaths on this very recording. The sparse instrumentation is especially effective here, reinforcing the feeling of loneliness conveyed in the song.
Another highlight is Reading In Bed, a lullaby of sorts featuring a soothing melody, and a lovely string and horn arrangement.
Overall, Knives Don't Have Your Back is a very strong effort. I'm sure that many listeners will be turned off by the gloom, but for those of us who sometimes crave it, there's enough here to keep us "happy" for a long time.