The Heavy Blinkers | en

On a warm spring day in 2006, over twenty musicians gathered
in a studio in the north end of Halifax. Their presence was
requested to sing in a choir for the upcoming Heavy Blinkers
record. It was a project that had developed an aura of mystery
as of late.
The band had been playing less and less over the previous
months. In addition to that, some of the founding members had
begun putting their focus on other projects. Their magnificent
last offering The Night and I Are Still So Young earned them international
acclaim and a devoted fanbase. Still, basing a touring
orchestral pop act out of an isolated Canadian coastal city wasn’t
without its challenges.
As the choir assembled, they were given the lyrics to an upbeat
and ambiguously themed track called “As Long As You Have
Your Health.” With crisp voices riding atop a giddy piano line,
they delivered a song that evoked the classic pop sound that The
Heavy Blinkers had mastered with favorites such as “Try Telling
That To My Baby” and “You Can Heal.” It was with the track’s
cautiously optimistic lyrics and beaming delivery that the current
chapter of The Heavy Blinkers drew to a close.
Seven years later, the band’s last remaining founding member, Jason
Michael MacIsaac received a wood carved image of a sailor
standing alone on the edge of a turbulent sea. The naval officer
calmly salutes a ship in the distance as it sinks into the waves.
The night glows around him. The image acts as the completed
album’s cover. While it’s a tribute to MacIsaac’s father, who served
in the military, there is also something else at play. The sailor
salutes with his wrong hand. The snow that falls in the evening
sky is alive with a surreal light.
It is the final piece in a project that has been one constant in almost
a decade of change. Following endless sessions, long hours
of meticulously arranging instrumental passages, and reworking
lyrics, Health was finally done.
All of The Heavy Blinkers splintered in various directions
following their various exits from the band. Looking for new
motivation before he carried on, MacIsaac put new focus on
his work with renowned Theatre troupe, Zuppa Theatre. He
also began composing music for television and film, including
scoring the Thom Fitzgerald film Cloudburst (which features
Oscar Award winners Olympia Dukakis and Brenda Fricker).
This new format directly informed the way he approached the
subsequent Heavy Blinkers material.
With that in mind, Health begins with an ending of sorts. The
choir that was assembled so many years prior sings a passage
that slowly submerges into a mysterious new world. The second
half of the track acts as musical gateway into this dimension.
Unfamiliar voices guide the way. The once glowing sunshine has
dimmed into twilight.
Filled with songs of the war, death, and unrequited love, Health
is a haunted epic. Written as a musical, the character’s stories
are told by vocalists Stewart Legere, Melanie Stone, and Jenn
Grant with help from guest contributors Sondre Lerche and
The High Llamas’ Sean O’Hagan. It uses works such as Frank
Sinatra’s Watertown and Van Dyke Parks’ (who once called the
band “the real deal”) Song Cycle as touchstones, but still remains
wholly unique.
Rolling Stone Magazine once claimed, “The Heavy Blinkers go
beyond simple accomplishment, and into the realm of masterwork
thanks to the production and pure genius arrangements.”
Health holds true to these words. Each song delivers lush new
arrangements that revel in all the benefits of studio indulgence.
Culled from 30 completed songs, the depth of the project is
massive, but the focus is unparalleled.
“Anna Karina, I Was Wrong” is a wartime tale that shimmers
with harps and foreboding strings. Centred around the
somewhat baleful refrain, “This is what you deserve, and I won’t
stand in your way,” the song is an apology and a goodbye. It’s a
towering work and stands as the thematic core of the record.
The song ends with an echo of “My Darling Clementine.” It is
the first of many ghosts that haunt the album. These specters
eventually take over in the closing, “Everything is Magic.” With
echoing laughter and a woozy arrangement, the voices of 40
Heavy Blinkers fans (recorded all over the world) recite a passage
that MacIsaac wrote seven years ago which would serve to inspire
the project:
“In an attempt to spell her name, the illiterate moon gathered up
all the stars into her arms, and laid them out over the night sky,
forming letters as she went along. Unwittingly, she spelled the word
noon instead of moon. The sun instantly filled the sky, and the
moon disappeared.”
Through the voices and sway of the music, the choir once again
resurfaces. This time its voices are distant, submerged. A memory
of the beginning now ominously opens the door for a new
chapter.
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