Red Scare Across Canada: A Vinyl Invasion

Well, what do we have here? Seems a couple of Yankees from south of the border want to try fandangle their way into the land of free health care and vast, stunning natural landscapes. And what do they have for trade? Furs? Beads? No, no, this is 2025, the modern ages, so they brought a 4-song vinyl record sampler aptly titled Red Scare Across Canada. 

I’d love to trust this gang of miscreants, and frankly it is in my nature to do so, but recent relations between the two countries have left much to be desired. I’m told that they have sent their best and brightest north in an effort to soothe over some of the recent discomforts. How well will they fare? How Canadian are these tracks? Let’s dive in.

Up first is Brendan Kelly and the Wandering Birds offering up a track called “Jumpsuit.” Lord, it is a greasy, greasy affair. Brendan’s voice has the texture of a brick wall and the never-not-wet touch of long black hair full of Vaseline and razor blades. Instruments jump out from each channel and stab your ears before retreating back into the darkness of the mix, but it is all held together by a propulsive drum beat. The aforementioned sensually vulgar vocal delivery is more akin to John Wayne macro dosing LSD and micro dosing on the sight of a very pretty woman on a bus eating ketchup chips. I can’t believe this guy once played ska. Listening to Brendan’s recent output in the Lawrence Arms shows his propensity to skimp on intros, bridges, and anything that might get in the way, which may have left this track with less room to breathe than I would normally desire in my creeper beats. It’s unclear whether this is a one-off or part of the Wandering Birds’ return, but the track has my interest piqued either way.

How Canadian is this track? 6/10 – like a 3 a.m. fight at a Megabite Pizza on Granville Street in Vancouver.

Next up is Guerilla Poubelle with “L’incendie, le canadair et le colibri.” The gnarly French sang/shouted vocals are highlighted by the uber-crisp production. The guitars are bright and tight, the drums pump, and the bass hangs delightfully in the middle. The track is very 59 Times the Pain minus a bowler hat but plus a beret. The veterans bring more than their share of ideas to a track that is only 1:28 and, not to sound like my dad, but I wanted it to be a little longer. I think they may have left a bit off the table with this track. Also, they are from France, so you may have no idea what they are saying, but damnit, you like how they are saying it.

How Canadian is this track? 9/10 – like when your uncle claimed to be an extra in Hard Core Logo.

Sam Russo crosses the 49th parallel next, and I can’t believe they let him through customs with such a killer song. “Leave Me Alone” was a bit of a grower for me. I can rightfully be accused of being a cynic, and my immediate reaction to “a heartfelt guy with an acoustic guitar” made me roll my eyes a bit. Nevertheless, in the hours and days after I listened to this release, I found myself singing the simple refrain of this song so many times that other Canadians stopped building igloo walls across the American border and actually got mad at me. It’s dreamy, it’s ardent, it’s easy listening and angry at the same time. It might be perfect.

How Canadian is this track? 7/10 – Canadian teenage lust (Degrassi lust).

In the Meantime are the last of the patriots demanding freedom fries. The guitar harmonies are delicious on this song and will lead you to asking questions like: What if Limp and No Use for a Name had a love child? What if it was the product of an affair? What if they had a sister wives situation? I’m not sure of the answer to any of these questions, but the second-verse change-ups in this song are incredible, and the drummer deserves a raise (Canadian dollars only, please). The thinking person’s pop punk leaves nothing to be desired; In the Meantime have been at it for a while, and it shows in their delivery to elevate a simple song into something so memorable.

How Canadian is this track? 8/10 – Fake laughing at an American’s tired poutine joke while subtly observing to see if they have any sprained ankles or blood-borne viruses that they have been hiding, politely biding their time until they can go and access our free healthcare.

The four-song sampler seemed a bit short when I first glanced at the track list, and I was confused by the mashing of styles: the creeper, the angry one, the dreamy introvert, and the lighthearted headbanger. What could this be? Had this algorithm-driven monoculture nightmare that we all live in brainwashed me against the idea that art could only exist in the comfortable confines of Spotify’s Jeep, driving me down a smooth, newly paved road where DJ X decides what I should hear, too afraid to swerve suddenly too far left or right so I never question what I am comfortable with? I shook my head yes when I realized Red Scare’s true intention and how it jived with Canada’s own values: to get weird sometimes, for no reason at all.

I say, let them all in and don’t let them leave.