Loomer

This is one of those "where did these guys come from?” records that — once you hear it — commands serious attention, especially from those who lean towards the Whiskeytown, Wilco or Parsons camp. These guys have roots, indeed, in Toronto’s own Saddletramps, as Andrew Lindsay, John DeHaas and Brian Duguay and Iain Thomson (Heimleich Maneouver) have evolved into Loomer around the extremely talented vocals of namesake Scott Loomer. And his masterful voice is a perfect foil to the wonderfully lazy, somewhat sloppy, country-fused accompaniment that graces the album’s 13 tracks. Aided and abetted by the perfectly-placed pedal steel of Pine Dogs fame, Jim Whitford, and some finely crafted harmonies, this record ambles along for almost an hour with enough pop sentiment to demand the success this union so richly deserves. This is the band you want to see live with a table full of limes and tequila and your swankiest pair of chaps on — as the songs, which so swiftly sink their teeth into your lifestyle, make you thirst for more. "Company Store” is a case in point — more than ready for radio (if there was any) — and "Psychotic Killer,” with its "Bells of Rhymney” references, makes you want to meet one. All wrapped up with a bent sense of humour and a hint of that typically Canadian self-deprecating way, Loomer begs an audience, in not a following. Better than marshmallows around any campfire!