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CD review: Emily Haines and the Soft Skeleton
By Matthew Quane
mquane@mscd.edu

Emily Haines and the Soft Skeleton Knives Don’t Have Your Back (Last Gang Records, 2006)

Someone – or something – has made Emily Haines sad. And to that someone, the music world owes a debt of gratitude.

From the soft onset of “Our Hell” to the melancholy passage of “Winning,” Haines has crafted a morose masterpiece that deserves a top spot among the greatest “misery loves company” albums of all time.

Though Haines is best known as the singer/songwriter for the band Metric and as a vocalist with indie rock supergroup Broken Social Scene, Knives Don’t Have Your Back marks her first venture into the solo world since 1996 – and what a worthwhile venture it is.

Haines has toured modestly in support of Knives, playing a limited number of shows in seemingly every city but Denver. Her act consists of herself – blindfolded – and her piano.

The heartbreaking timbre of the album is a wide departure from the up-tempo, Breeders-esque rock offered by Metric. Rather than a collective effort, the centerpiece of Knives is Haines and her piano. The production is light, and deservedly so; overproduction would destroy the simple beauty of the effort.

Most of her political views have slipped from the forefront of her writing, paving the way for songs about lazy lovers, misplaced feminism and the death of her father, Canadian jazz poet Paul Haines.

Her lyrics abound with self-referential material. “With all the luck you’ve had/ why are your songs so sad?” she asks herself in the dreamy “Reading in Bed.” It seems the question must be reflected upon by artists everywhere. How can the despair that makes for such profound art remain after success has been met?

The closing track, “Winning,” comes as a lilting lullaby – not to mention the best song on the album and homage to her lost father – in which Haines assumes the role of a doting parent: “What’s bad, we’ll fix it/ what’s wrong, we’ll make it all right.”

The song’s existential shell covers for the nasty core of fear and pain. “Don’t even visit that place, they’ll sharpen their teeth on your smile/ I’m glad you didn’t, all of our songs will be lullabies in no time,” she sings.

While it’s generally not recommended that depressed people play with Knives, this is one album worth bringing along on any trip through the doldrums.