Dancing With Myself about Architecture

While watching Jon-Rae and the River hold court at The Plaza recently, I allowed nostalgia to get the better of me. In contrast to the righteous frenzy the River has evolved into, Fletcher's first two EPs - Now Then and Then Again - were decidedly sparse affairs. Featuring four-track recordings of his Bible-bred voice and acoustic guitar, the discs came packaged in equally simple paper slipcases, handwritten by Fletcher himself.

The whiskey-fuelled songwriter's third disc would be his first with a River. While torn, frayed and rawer than your average sushi roll, 2002's Jon-Rae Fletcher and the River provided portents of the polished sound found on last year's Knows What You Need. "Young Man Meets Old Death" showed that the band was willing to let the Crazy Horse guitars run wild, while the heartache of "Fourteen Years" bore the mark of a yearning that would blossom into the sexed-up soul churned out by today's River. This album displayed a musical progression, but still came enclosed in homespun packaging.

There's an undeniable charm to DIY album art. The irregularities, eccentricities and imperfections found in the material make it markedly unique, even before it reaches one's speakers. Take Organ Trail's Wagon Train, for example. While newer pressings of the EP are adorned with a tarty young buck (of the four-legged, hoofed variety), the copy in my possession sports a garish colour scheme and is bound together by stitched thread that hangs unkempt from the casing.

Pleasing packaging is not the only commonality between the aformentioned acts. Both bands find a muse in resettlement: Jon-Rae having committed his Toronto relocation to song ("Eastern Migration"), and Organ Trail nicking their name from '80s edutainment computer game Oregon Trail. True to their inspiration, the Vancouver four-piece employs a pioneer spirit in conjuring alt-country atmospherics.

The disc opens with a rustic, singsong sample exuding the bounty of the new frontier. Soon, pledges of apples, grain and cattle are overwhelmed by an ominous clatter of instruments. A dark undercurrent persists throughout, making this an ideal soundtrack to contract small-pox to. With drums beating out marching orders, "Moonshine" sees a skilful interplay of guitar and banjo (no Deliverance-style duel here) against a droning backdrop of organ, and "Populating the New Frontier" closes out the EP with the band conspiring on a piece that oscillates between lullaby and locomotive dynamics.

Initially, the recent Falls EP by Sparrow House offers similar instrumental inclinations, until the looping melodies and warbles of "Heart Flood" surrender and we're introduced to the voice of Jared Van Fleet on "Foxes." While awaiting the release of his fulltime band Voxtrot's debut album, the multi-instrumentalist/home-recorder has kept busy by stapling together his own CD packages and distributing them from his apartment.

While Voxtrot's frontman Ramesh Srivastava's stock-in-trade is gregarious charisma, Van Fleet plays the role of unabashed romantic. On the gorgeous "When I Am Gone," he arms himself with a finger-picked guitar and plaintive piano line and takes dead aim at any heart within earshot, intoning: "You are the one who could break me with a whisper/And I'm broken so I won't take your time no more." Elsewhere, tasteful flourishes of French horn and cello hint promisingly at what Sparrow House might accomplish on the forthcoming EP, Television Snow.

Speaking of promise(s), Dylan McKeever of Antarctica Takes It! makes a litany of vows on "I'm No Lover." Houses will be burned! Children will be eaten alive! "It's not a matter of expression," he assures us. "I have come here to destroy everything you hold dear." Of course, given McKeever's nebbish voice, even an asthmatic librarian would be inclined to respond, "What the fuck? I could take this guy."

With wilfully shoddy artwork composed of handwriting, photocopies, stickers, stamps and colour printouts, full-length The Penguin League is a tour-de-force in spazzy dweeb folk. Guitar, glockenspiel, accordion, cello, piano and ukulele are captured on lo-fi recordings as warm and fuzzy as the sentiment behind the songs. On the sublime "Circuits," McKeever charts the course of love through the human body: "There's highways through your bloodstream; There's highways to your heart." Having successfully navigated anatomy, the band next embarks on a fantastical journey - complete with a giant squid - on "Antarctica."

"You stole our hearts," McKeever assures the most lonesome continent. I might suggest the same of each of the albums that grace this column.