Apostle of Hustle

It should seem unnecessary for everything written about Apostle of Hustle to play up the fact that their singer/leader/everything-guy is a member of Broken Social Scene. After all, AOH is Side Project #426 to come from the Broken Social Scene scene–following Feist, Stars, Metric, The Weakerthans and on and on and on. But AOH is different from the pack, as they’ve stayed truer to the Broken Social sound than any other side projects.

“What are you talking about?!” you say. “Apostle of Hustle was born out of Andrew Whiteman’s stay in a Havana barrio, bearing a significant Cuban influence throughout. They’re nothing like Broken Social Scene!”

True and false. Yes, there are noticeable Cuban elements on their sophomore album, National Anthem of Nowhere, but to think of AOH as a sort of Buena Vista Social Scene is to make montañas out of molehills. After all, when the Brady Bunch went to Hawaii, the show didn’t suddenly become Hawaii Five-0.

There are moments where the Cuban influence drips heavily, including the Spanish-language “Tagata!” and “Fast Pony for Victor Jara.” While those songs–particularly “Fast Pony”–work well, they feel a bit uneven in the midst of National Anthem’s explosive indie-pop, well, anthems.

And that’s what most of National Anthem is–indie-pop. It’s often far more accessible than BSS. Although the album might open with the ominous line “One day angels told me my time here is fleeting” (from “My Sword Hand’s Anger”) and close with a “bad news”-dispensing fortune teller (from “Nonono”), it’s a surprisingly bright and shiny record. Tracks like “National Anthem of Nowhere,” “Cheap Like Sebastian,” “Justine, Beckoning” and the sugary “Chances Are” are melodic sing-a-longs despite Whiteman’s occasional downer lyrics.

The real difference between AOH and BSS has more to do with numerology and geography. While BSS has developed a unique identity for its ever-growing size and sound–boasting up to 20 members at one time–AOH and its three members pare things down to focus on the songs instead of the overall sound–something BSS hasn’t done since 2001’s You Forget It In People. At times Whiteman employs a larger sound, like the brilliant horn section in the title track. But with only three official players, AOH is able to make the sound as large or small as they want–a privilege the umpteen members of BSS don’t always have.

Whiteman’s commitment to individual songs and melodies adds to the album’s greatness and aforementioned accessibility. It also makes it feel a bit unbalanced, though. After all, a few songs (see “A Rent Boy Goes Down”) just don’t work. Furthermore, the repeated transition from Cuba to Toronto and back is enough to might give the listener aural whiplash.

National Anthem of Nowhere is not a Cuban rock album. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you otherwise. But what it is is more than what it isn’t. It’s a fine addition to the Broken Social Scene family that could stand on its own with or without the BSS connection.

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