Deadbeat & Camara: Trinity Thirty
Constellation

Thirty years on from the release of The Trinity Session, Deadbeat (Berlin-based Canadian producer Scott Monteith) and fellow Canadian-in-Berlin Fatima Camara honour The Cowboy Junkies' classic with a magnificent re-creation that generally matches it song for song but otherwise imagines it anew (one difference being the new album's blending of two songs on the original into “I Don't Get It After Midnight (Medley)”). As sometimes happens, the project came about somewhat by accident when Monteith heard the Junkies' enduring version of “Sweet Jane” playing in an airport and, reminded of how much he loved the group's album, contacted the Junkies to ask if anything was in the offing to celebrate its thirtieth anniversary; replying that no such plans existed, the group gave their blessing to whatever Monteith might wish to do. Recalling a shared enthusiasm he had with Camara for The Trinity Session, he pitched the makeover idea to her, after which the two mapped out an approach that wouldn't merely replicate the original but deliver a fresh spin on it.

The result is exactly what such a reinterpretation should be: a heartfelt homage but no carbon copy. While the tracks generally back Camara's singing with Monteith's instrumental backdrops, he also contributes vocals, as does guest Caoimhe McAlister, whose harmonies appear on six tracks. The concept Monteith and Camara adopted is consistent with the spirit of the original, which singer Margo Timmins, her brothers Michael and Peter on guitar and drums, and bassist Alan Anton (plus a handful of guests) infamously recorded in single takes at a Toronto church using one microphone; for the re-creation, the duo recorded everything in a big open space at Berlin's Chez Cherie studio and like the group went with first takes that exploited the natural resonance of the room.

Even more critically, Monteith and Camara opted for a minimalist treatment of the songs, wisely deciding that a restrained approach would be more in keeping with the original. In other words, Trinity Thirty doesn't layer vocals onto uptempo, dub-techno club workouts and neither is it an ornate, densely layered electronic album; instead, the hour-long release retains the original's somnambulant spaciousness but in an updated guise. The songs' skeletal backings intensify their spectral, late-night vibe, with much of it feeling as if it was laid down in the wee hours; Trinity Thirty is thus a recording very much designed for the after-party, something perfect for helping the body (and mind) come down after an intense night. Beats do appear, but they're of the lulling, stripped-down kind. Monteith also eschews working dub treatments so familiarly heard in a Deadbeat production into these songs, though a few tracks do include dub-styled production effects (e.g., echo-drenched snares in “Blue Moon”).

In the press release, Low, Grouper, and Portishead are cited as reference points, yet while they're legitimate picks Mazzy Starr and Velvet Underground could also be added to that list. The latter's presence is strongly felt during the opening “Mining for Gold” when Camara's pitch-wavering delivery imbues the traditional work song with a haunted, Nico-like character, the icy vocal a fitting complement to the synthetic swells and whooshes generated by her partner. It's also hard to hear the hushed croon Camara brings to “Blue Moon” and not think of Mazzy Starr's Hope Sandoval, and much the same could be said of “To Love Is To Bury” when the tambourine punctuates the glacial flow, even if it's Monteith's voice at the forefront.

The faded tone of “Dreaming My Dreams With You,” on the other hand, reminds me of Brian Eno's “The River” (the concluding track on his release with John Cale, Wrong Way Up), never more than when Eno-styled synth flourishes surface midway through the song. Elsewhere, the Hank Williams classic “I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry” is fashioned into a tremulous, blues-ballad expression, the vocals in this case supported by a plodding bass pulse, guitar shudders, and organ textures. Of course it was the Junkies' cover of “Sweet Jane” that helped bring The Trinity Session a great deal of initial attention, and the new treatment pays effective tribute to both Lou Reed and the Toronto band without departing from the overall style of Trinity Thirty.

April 2019