METZ men began band to banish monotony

Looking back, Alex Edkins 2

wasn’t exactly planning on conquering the world with METZ, the Toronto trio that has emerged as one of the most thrilling noise-punk squads that’s ever roared out of the Great White North. The singer-guitarist was something of a music-scene veteran when he started ripping up the practice space with bassist Chris Slorach and drummer Hayden Menzies. Asked if he realized they were onto something special right away, the affable frontman suggests that he and his bandmates were more interested in escaping the monotony of daily life.

“It was never considered to be really anything—we kind of looked at it as something to do after work,” Edkins says, on the line from his home in Toronto, having just returned from a European tour. “It was something to do on the weekends. It’s truly been this very odd, mind-boggling evolution. We started and then everything slowly grew and grew to where this is kind of now our main thing. METZ is what we focus on every day. I don’t think you can plan for that, and even if you do, it’s something that rarely happens.

“We’re very aware of how strange this is,” the frontman continues. “All three of us had done music for so long and been in so many different types of bands that it almost helped us with what we’re doing today. I feel like we’re kind of older and have been doing it for a while. Because we weren’t new to it, that really helped us along getting METZ to where it is today. It gave us a nice grounding in terms of not having any expectations, for one, and also knowing what mistakes not to make again, because we’d been through it all before.”

With its first two albums—metz and II, both on Sub POP—METZ established itself as an unrelenting assault squad, red-lining its strain of alternative rock invented and perfected by titans like the Jesus Lizard and Big Black. Given the group’s affection for a time that—history lessons aside— they never really knew, it’s fitting that they realized a dream by working with iconic producer Steve Albini for this year’s Top 10 outing, Strange Peace.

METZ still rages like a motherfucker on earsores like “Mess of Wires”, but this time the band traffics in more than napalm-strength savagery. “Cellophane” is fuel-injected pop once you get past its serrated edges, while a click-clack country heart beats somewhere at the core of “Sink”. METZ unleash their inner art stars on the feedback-splattered “Lost in the Blank City” and slather Factory-brand postpunk in Emerald City sludge on “Mr. Plague”.

“We had 14 sort of skeletons or blueprints before we went in with Steve,” Edkins says. “The intention was to capture those skeletons in a very live and raw way and then not look back. It was supposed to be ‘Bang! There it is.’ A lot of the experimenting that you hear—the bells and whistles—came after we brought the tapes home to Toronto. We ended up with time to tinker without touching the skeletons.”

METZ also gives its fans plenty to think about on Strange Peace; among the brilliant things about this endlessly rewarding record is the way that Edkins addresses important topics (gentrification, isolation, depression) without ever resorting to obvious sloganeering. Consider, for example, the metal-dipped pile driver “Dig a Hole”, where the line “I just keep staring at the sun, the sun, the sun, the sun” can be taken as either an admission of utter defeat or a sign that the future is brightest when you keep the faith. Given the way things have unfolded for the men of METZ, here’s betting the latter reading holds more weight.

“Sometimes the lyrics are an exorcising of feelings and where my head’s at,” Edkins says. “And sometimes it’s not really clear what it is that I’m talking about until someone at a show will talk to me about it and provide some clarity for me. It’s really neat to hear the way that people will bring their own stories to the songs. I kind of use them as a therapy session to get everything out. Either it’s clear to me right then or it becomes clear to me later.”

> MIKE USINGER

METZ plays the Cobalt on Friday (December 8).

Life’s mundane moments offer 2

rich humour, joy, and empathy to those who have the talent to see them. Breakout Australian artist Alex Lahey is one of those individuals. Shunning songs about extravagant life events in favour of pithy observations on dating, drinking, and unexpectedly gaining weight, the 25-year-old distills what it means to be a young adult coming of age in the era of avocado toast and Tinder. It’s an approach that’s winning her fans all over the world.

Unlike artists peddling the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle of parties and drugs, Lahey is endearingly relatable. Always dressed down in high-neck Ts, jeans, and maybe a crumpled shirt, she’s the anti-pop-punk star—but not by design. Unlike those who have been coached by a hundred PR reps, when she mentions that she’s “just being herself”, it’s the God’s honest truth.

“There’s not a pathway that someone else has paved that I’m trying to follow,” she tells the Straight on the line from Austin, Texas. “There are definitely people in the industry that I respect, and I aspire to have that kind of respect from my peers too. There are some amazing artists, like St. Vincent—who’s a great performer, especially when we’re talking about guitar players—or someone like Courtney Barnett, who I really look up to for how she goes about her music and carries herself. Then there’s someone like Sia, who doesn’t fit any mould and just does her own thing. There are so many women out there who really do well, but I’m just doing what feels right for me.”

First hitting the music-blog radar with her EP B-grade University—an unintentional concept record about surviving college and liking Wes Anderson movies—lahey was unexpectedly awarded Pitchfork’s bestnew-track award before making it into Australia’s tastemaking Triple J Hottest 100 listener poll. Having studied music biographies like textbooks since her early teens, the artist was ready when her call-up to the big leagues came through.

“I was really fortunate to be given some great opportunities early on,” she recalls. “I met Tegan and Sara very briefly in Australia, for example, and I got asked to go on tour with them this year, not long after. It was such a pure act of generosity from two artists that I respect so much and grew up listening to. I really look up to them as role models, but it’s also given me some new goals, like one day I would like to be in a position in my career where I can just offer someone that opportunity because I like them and what they do.”

Now, with the release of her debut album, I Love You Like a Brother, on major streaming platforms, Lahey has embarked on a solo tour to promote the record’s bouncy, sing-along tracks. Mashing up wistful lyrics about relationships of all stripes with catchy, bubblegum-pop-punk guitar riffs, the artist shows how far her songwriting has progressed in just a year.

“You have to be a leader, and you have to push through and create progress, or else you’re going to be stuck in the same cycle,” she says. “I try to focus on things that we can see in ourselves and all reflect on. I think there’s a lot of comfort when we connect with a stranger on a level that’s very personal. It’s really nice to not feel alone.”

> KATE WILSON

Alex Lahey plays the Cobalt on Tuesday (December 12).

Strange Peace,