Written Tuesday, October 15
No Village is musicianship and composition on another level. From the first swelling notes, the album is elegant and sophisticated in a way I seldom hear. The classical influence merges effortlessly here with more modern rhythm parts. The textures and the mood are so cinematic. These songs convey so much sonically, without the lyrics. It’s an added bonus that Kuri has a talent for lyricism and vocal delivery.
Kuri is the solo project of Scott Currie, who was born and raised in Abbotsford, BC. He grew up in a Mennonite community, the youngest of four brothers. He learned to play music with his brothers, performing as their drummer. Later he started a band called Oh Village, a name that puts the title of this album into funny context. I first saw Scott Currie perform as a drummer for Vancouver’s incredibly talented Jenny Banai. And soon after learned of his solo work.
The first single from No Village was the track Sort Sol, a track that serves as a great example of Kuri’s lyrical prowess. “If everyone else feels the same thing, then why don’t we call it divine?” I love that line. The first time I heard it, I literally had to take a minute to ponder humanity’s collective consciousness and the meaning of life. A good lyric should make a person stop and think.
As the album progresses it settles into a quieter, more contemplative place. You get these very gently strummed, softly sung reflections, each song unfolding its ideas patiently, in no rush to get where it’s going. By the time you get to the end, At One Fell Swoop, you feel a sense of well-deserved catharsis.