This is because 8 songs is the standard template for a great rock n roll album. He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life.” Like their prior albums Post-Nothing and Celebration Rock, the album is 8 songs. The title, Near To The Wild Heart Of Life, comes from a passage in the novel A Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Man by James Joyce: “He was alone.
It was (mostly) recorded at Rain City Recorders in Vancouver, BC (Fall of 2015), with one song, “True Love And A Free Life Of Free Will”, recorded at Golden Ratio in Montreal, QC. Their third album, Near To The Wild Heart Of Life, was written clandestinely in Vancouver, Toronto, New Orleans, and Mexico City. They would not perform live again for three years. Yet, with guitars soaring and grooves accelerating, the words feel undeniable, and you know that when you hear ’em in a club – or theater, or arena – you’ll be bouncing off the walls, shouting every word.With the release of their second album, Celebration Rock in 2012 the band embarked on what seemed like an endless world tour, performing over 200 shows in over 40 countries, and played their final show in support of Celebration Rock in Buenos Aires, Argentina in November 2013. Part of the thrill here is how King’s constructs teeter at cliché’s brink see “North East South West,’ with its cheer-trolling regional shout-outs, or “Midnight to Morning,” with its shopworn road-hog catalog: the bottle, the devil, the highway lines, the way home. It’s awesome.ĭrummer David Prowse still plays like Keith Moon weaned on the Ramones, with stoic muscle-beats full of sprints and lunges. The song’s about a kid leaving behind his small-ass town for big-ass dreams, and when the voices harmonize on the “whoa-oh!”s, thick with top-shelf reverb, you hear every cheeseball Eighties pop-metal chorus chant in history distilled and vindicated.
“It got me all fired up, to go far away/And make some ears ring from the sound of my singing, baby!” hollers Brian King on the title track. On their third LP, that band is out of the closet. Even when they were screaming Vancouver scrappers recording songs like “Darkness at the Edge of Gastown,” you knew there was a classic rock act at the punk heart of Japandroids.
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