Chad Van Gaalen
Infiniheart

THE REVIEW

That's how it goes sometimes. That's how sadness works. Sitting on a rock, you face the icy air coming from the sea; you look back and your sister is on the balcony arguing with your mother over reasons that are surely quite feminine. You close your eyes. You sigh. You light up the last cigarette and think of someone far away. You open your eyes. The seagulls scream from the cold and crash full speed into the water. Then, suddenly, you remember that you don't live by the sea, you don't smoke, and the only birds you hear screaming outside the window are your ghosts reincarnated into mischievous crows.

It's already morning. You also remember that the only things that save your day are the kisses from the person you love and rock music. The person you love is, perhaps, really already far away. Rock music is not. It's twenty centimeters from your nightstand. That's how it works. Almost always. You stretch out your arm, grab a record and put it in the player. "Infiniheart" by Chad Van Gaalen, released on the market a couple of weeks ago, reveals itself from the very first track for what it is. A gem. "Clinically Dead" starts and the darkness and melancholy of your room already have a different flavor. This album emerges as a collection of small songs recorded over the years by Van Gaalen, starting from 1994. The recording supports used are a Tascam 4-track, an Akaie hard disk recorder and an infinite series of other small analog gadgets.

Chad started as an illustrator and street artist. He travels the streets of the world with a percussionist friend and a guitar, animating some small Canadian festivals until, thanks to the material recorded "alla ben'in peggio" (roughly), he manages to attract the attention of important people. He opens concerts for already established rock bands such as Stars and Pixies and enjoys his niche audience, which becomes more substantial every day. For those who love the sounds of Broken Social Scene and for those who do not believe there can be an updated sonic evolution of Damien Rice, here is the pleasant surprise of November.

The album is a concentrate of ethereal, almost space-like sounds, full of echoes and sweet reverbs. The overall recording quality is from the earth's basement, and it almost seems Chad is playing in your garage with a small Park amplifier and a vintage guitar. Experimentation and an idea of electronics in some tracks like "J. C.'s Head On The Cross", a kind of pressing loop created by a drum machine on which a guitar with a Graham Coxon flavor arpeggiates. But also acoustic dreams born in a prehistoric jungle with pterodactyls and light percussion ("Somewhere"). Currently, Van Gaalen truly represents a great discovery in the world of singer-songwriters: less experimental than Ariel Pink (and fortunately, I’d add...), more romantic and interesting than Beck Hansen, perfectly recalling in some tracks the delirium and damned fragility of John Lennon’s soul.

When the record is over, it's time to get your butt out of bed, no longer think about melancholy, rocks, seagulls, and go to work or school. That's how it always goes. That's how life works in this part of the world.
Almost always.