The Jon Cohen Experimental – Behold

It’s a well known fact that Montreal has produced some stellar musical talent since the turn of the century.  From Arcade Fire and Islands to Stars and Wolf Parade, the Quebec province’s largest city has become a hotbed for burgeoning artists, allowing a chic indie aesthetic to thrive much in the same way that Seattle’s grunge phenomenon of 20 years ago had the nation salved up like haphazard lumberjacks.

A fixed member of Montreal’s ever expanding scene, songwriter Jon Cohen has spent the last 15 years vacillating between positions in a number of high profile Canuck acts, including orchestral pop band The Dears.  With a lengthy resume established and several tours of duty served, Cohen decided in 2006 to venture down a new path, defecting from his previous collaborations in order to start a band all his own.  The resulting Jon Cohen Experimental – a name which is perhaps not quite as apt as it may seem – has spent the last four years building a reputation for sometimes stirring and often perplexing brand of pop/rock.  Eclecticism runs high indeed on the group’s latest effort, Behold, but if you’re expecting some foray into the avant-garde, you’d do better to dig out an old John Cage or Frank Zappa record.  There’s plenty worth beholding on Cohen’s sophomore LP, but it probably comes closer to the indie pop of The New Pornographers than it does the to the experimentalism of someone like, say, Harry Partch.

Utilizing a core trio set-up (Sebastian Cote on drums and Ken Martin on bass), Cohen manages to conjure a surprising number of moods and textures out of his guitar and keyboard before those on the lengthy guest list begin to arrive.  “Stroke (of the Night)” is a tour de force for the band, the song veering from jaunty folk-pop to electronic psychedelia while Cohen sings, “Protons to the left and neutrons to the right / I feel the electricity tonight,” in a druggy falsetto.  By the time the three-part horn section (including The Stars’ Evan Cranley) shows up in the tune’s middle third, what began as a lost Wish You Were Here-era Pink Floyd track sounds more like a blissful Polyphonic Spree jam.  Though the presence of such varied influences is impressive, one of Cohen’s greatest strengths is how seamlessly he melds them together into something that is not only engaging, but also practical.

The same is true of “Lucky Number Seven,” in which the core band members suffuse a mysterious acoustic guitar chord progression with the sort of symphonic swells that Sufjan Stevens has made his trademark.  “It’s one love that we know / it’s two faces that we show,” sings Cohen over layers of escalating vocal harmony and robust brass timbres.  Along for the ride is a sitar, which Cohen tastefully applies so as to avoid pandering to any Indian stereotypes.

While not every track is instantly accessible, credit is due to Cohen for crafting a disc that respectfully pays homage to a number of subgenres in the popular music canon.  “No More Videos Just Teasers” comes off like a Cars track from the height of New Wave, with Cohen singing in a passively cool tone, “Attention spans are getting short / and drugs are cheaper at the port.”  “Brain Pollution” exudes a CSNY/Laurel Canyon appeal thanks to wordless vocal harmonies and sprightly guitar melodies, while “Don’t Be the Cloud” appears to be channeling Yoshimi period Flaming Lips with laser beam synths and transcendental imagery (“Don’t be the cloud / or as loud as thunder / and if you like to sleep in late / don’t be the sunrise either”).  The title track – which features Stars member Angela Desveaux – is a mellow duet designed for the coffeehouse crowd where wistful sentimentality (“You gotta behold / now that you’re getting old”) goes down a little easier with a latte in hand.

Cohen’s Myspace page address labels his group as the Jon Cohen Experience, which – Jimi Hendrix allusion notwithstanding – is a far more fitting title for the music on Behold.  While completely void of any ear splitting improvisations or oddball gestures, the album does offer a dearth of pop tunes that, though sometimes emotionally flat, never fail to entertain.  Who knows though: Maybe an interest in Harry Partch-esque microtone scales and hybrid musical instruments will be the next indie fad.