by Chris Hatch

There’s a sense of irony in the fact that we’ve only got round to reviewing Born Ruffians’ latest album a week after it was released. The Canadian indie-pop band came into focus on their 2006 EP, This Sentence Will Ruin/Save Your Life, and (save for a brief flirtation with the mainstream on 2008’s Red, Yellow & Blue album) they have been shamefully underrated and woefully overlooked ever since. It feels all the more important, then, to sing the praises of their latest album, Juice – a record which sees their spiky, guitar pop reach levels of near-perfection.

Juice feels like the kind of record that is quintessentially Born Ruffians. While some of the rough edges have been smoothed over, and Luke Lalonde’s vocals have shedded a layer of their exuberant brattiness, their ear for melody and knack for making complex pop music sound devilishly simple is as sharp as ever. Over 29 minutes, Born Ruffians showcase their mastery of songwriting in a maelstrom of whip-smart, jagged punk (Dedication), 50s-style doo-wop (I’m Fine), and spacious, psychedelia (Hey You). Juice is an exercise in brevity; its nine songs are as focused as anything they’ve previously released, as lean as you like, each one burning itself onto your cortex after just a handful of listens.

While Juice captures a maturity in Born Ruffians’ musicianship, there’s also a sense of poise and self-understanding in Lalonde’s lyrics. The frontman at times shines the light on himself and deals with his insufficiencies with a charming self-deprecation – on The Poet (Can’t Jam), Lalonde wryly suggests that he’s ‘just a bad poet’ before bursting into a bustling chorus that captures the instant catchiness of The Spinto Band, and The Strokes’ early stuff. Album-closer, Wavy Haze, is perhaps the most exposed Lalonde has ever allowed himself to be; it self-reflective lyrics speak of mistakes, regrets, and waves of anxiety in a scale-balancing act of hindsight. If Born Ruffians occupied an alternate universe, Wavy Haze would be the kind of twilight-drenched, sing-a-long, summer festival anthem that would earn them the attention they deserve.

Juice finds Born Ruffians at their songwriting peak. Instant, catchy, and concise, with enough complexity and reflection to make it more than just a throwaway pop album. For the music world to miss out on this record wouldn’t be surprising, but it would be a crime.

Secret Meeting score: 82

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