During the mid-to-late ‘90s, there was arguably no Canadian band more destined for super-stardom than Thrush Hermit. With a main stage set at Edgefest ‘95 under their belt (made up of Steve Miller Band covers exclusively), a handful of solid EPs (one, The Great Pacific Ocean, was recorded by Steve Albini), a full-length major label debut (Sweet Homewrecker), a song featured on the Mallrats soundtrack (“Hated It”), some rotation on MuchMusic (“French Inhale”), and an unlimited supply of monster riffs in their pockets, they were flirting with mega-success. But more importantly they were fun, irreverent, young, insanely talented, and they put out their magnum opus, Clayton Park, in 1999 on Sonic Unyon and promptly called it quits at the top of their game.The Juno-nominated Clayton Park is quite possibly the greatest ‘70s rock album released in the ‘90s. Named after the suburb that the band originated from, it’s full of the East Coast vibes they shared with bands like Jale, The Super Friendz, Local Rabbits, and, to an extent, Eric’s Trip. No doubt inspired by endless touring in a severely renovated school bus across Canada there are a lot of road songs on the album. The two clearest examples are “Western Dreamz,” a wistful ballad that declares, “I’m lost and free in hopeless glee/I’m Rocky Mountain high,” and “The Day We Hit The Coast,” a raucous, hook-laden mini-epic where Plaskett wails, “I’m going up and into the mountains/where the Prairies end, collide, an accordion.” Both songs manage to neatly sum up the almost impossible-to-describe feeling of being a young Canadian band hurtling down the highway to the Pacific, and losing themselves in the beauty of the ever-changing landscape and a “holy shit I can’t believe we get to do this” attitude.More than anything, Clayton Park is indebted to the stomp and bombast of ‘70s guitar rock, rearing its relentless head in moments like the head-banging chorus and lightning-quick solo on “Oh My Soul!”, the dark six-string sludge of “Violent Dreams,” and the bluesy, too-short-to-get-bad “From the Back of the Film.” Thrush Hermit also shine just as bright on the calmer moments of the record, such as the sparser, existential twinge of “We Are Being Reduced.”None of this proved enough for singer and guitarist Rob Benvie, who, on top of becoming unhappy with his declining status as a co-frontman with bandmate Joel Plaskett, had decided that the band’s natural penchant for guitar-rock was “boring and old-fashioned.” There was also the fact that most of the band had been playing together since their early teens, and sometimes, someone has to pull the cord on a deteriorating relationship. Clayton Park, for all the promise it shows, is saved by the fact that nothing came after it: the band put out, inarguably, their best album, a goliath of Canadian indie-rock. And before time and situational artistic stagnancy destroyed them, they destroyed themselves.The best song on Clayton Park is its last. Besides being a flawless pop song and a heartbreaking account of someone coming to terms with the end of a relationship, it also serves as a perfect ender for a last album. It’s sad but also celebratory, with one eye on the nostalgia of the past and one looking toward the unknown future. “Just do what you gotta do before you leave” as Thursh Hermit would say. And that’s just what they did.
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