Treble Charger - NC17

7.5 - Canada - 1994

On their debut album, the Toronto-based-originally-from-Sault-Ste.-Marie group take the typical post-Sonic Youth fuzz-noise that predominated in early 90s indie-rock and recast it in a mold of melodic, hook-based pop. The result is a fairly strong collection of catchy songs mostly based around grungy quiet-loud dynamics. “10^th Grade Love”, “Trinity Bellwoods”, and “Dress” are all fine examples of the genre, and “Red” may well be the best Canadian indie song of the 90s (it was rather pointlessly re-recorded with an added string section for the group’s third and breakthrough album Maybe It’s Me). There a few clunkers in the songwriting department (“In Your Way” and “Cubicle”, for example, are a bit pedestrian) which could have perhaps been better replaced with more noise experiments like “Popcorn Chicken”, the minute-and-a-half blast of glorious feedback that leads into the almighty “Red”.

When I first heard this back in ’94, I was struck by how much the record reminded me of the debut from another Canadian indie group – Sloan’s Smeared. As Sloan went on to refine their pop sound into a decent Beatles imitation (indeed, I’d say they far outdid their Britpop peers like Supergrass or Blur in that regard), I wondered whether Treble Charger would mature into a group that could produce something like the pop masterpieces of Twice Removed or One Chord To Another. Alas, it was not to be as Treble Charger’s pop melodicism would lead them instead down the dark path of pop-punk. Over subsequent albums, the earnest indie-pop of NC17 would degenerate into a northern version of Blink-182’s shit. Of the two primary song-writers, Bill Priddle, author of “Red”, would end up leaving the group to play with Broken Social Scene. Grieg Nori, with his spikey, frosted tips, remained as the group’s frontman and committed the unforgivable offence of foisting his protégés, the execrable Sum-41, on the world (as well as producing the none-more-shite Hedley). That says it all. Oh well, at least on NC17, when, for example, the jangly guitars of “Soaker” (a decent, average track) burst into their fuzz-toned chorus, we can remain in the hopeful time of Boss pedals, cut-n-paste ‘zine-like flyers for coffeehouse shows, and biking down to the mall record store before the punk ethos was squeezed out of these big shiny tunes.