04 October, 2022

The Paws That Linger

(Photo by Alice Chiche.)
 
More than once I have been described as being a day late and a dollar short. So it was with discovering Canailles.

I first heard them last autumn on a radio show called Accordion Noir that's hosted by one Bruce Triggs, a guy with a severe case of accordionophilia. Every Wednesday night he plays an hour of accordion music (some concertina tunes seep in as well) on CFRO-FM up nort in Vancouver, eh. (For my fellow Madisonians, it seems to be their equivalent of WORT.) When their song came on, I was immediately smitten with its breakneck rhythm and bouncy accordion licks.

Cooooo-roo-koo-koo, coo-roo-koo-koo!

Bruce kindly posts his show’s playlist and I discovered that the band’s name was Canailles. I am not sure which song he played on that particular episode because he would spin other songs by them on the next few subsequent shows and things kind of run together at my age. But I was hooked. And I was happy that I had discovered a new band. You know, one that had come together this century. My joy at having finally fallen for a music group whose members were still alive/did not have grey hair was somewhat lessened when I found out that Canailles was no more.

They were a 7 or 8-piece that played a kinetic mix of bluegrass, Cajun, whatever folk music French Canadians devised up in Quebec, and probably other stuff too. I haven’t been able to find much out about the band as they speak French and what was written about them was mostly in that language which I happen to not speak. In September 2010 they released their first recording, a self-titled EP that began with “Blues des pattes”, which Google translates as "Paw Blues". Perhaps it refers to the poor rabbit caught in a snare on the EP's cover.

Right out of the gate, the ensemble is on fire with a rhythm that cannot help but get your feet moving while a fiddle careers along threatening to lose control with every stroke of the bow. Things settle down just a bit and the instruments provide space for the vocals but, when the time comes, Alice Tougas St-Jak’s accordion whips up a punk rock-like frenzy guaranteed to start an Acadian mosh pit.

The song is only two and a half minutes long but every second is a quantum of musical energy that'll get your ass shakin'.
 

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