BEATROUTE, March 2005

Greg Gescha, Savonetta, Independent

Oooeee! We got ourselves a local boy! When this little number was first handed to me, I'm sure I had some reaction to the effect of a scoff or an eye-roll, because honestly, Calgary resident Gescha looks like an adult contemporary, Jack-Johnson-if-he-shopped-at-Club-Monaco pretty boy on the cover, a concept that caused me to immediately loathe this disc. But then, after much reluctance, I listened to it, and my mind was sufficiently blown.

It's GOOD, I mean, like really good. As I listened, I was filled with this sense of pride that comes with knowing someone within your immediate area has got some mad skillz, especially in an area of music that is so often riddled with total trash.

To start off, Gescha has a fantastic voice. It wobbles on the verge of falsetto and squeaks out with a fullness that immediately recalls David Bowie and, believe it or not, the singer of Spacehog. This style lends itself marvelously to the songs, which can sometimes sound like the shaky experiments of a future genius, but more often are just fantastically written straight-up pop songs. The problem, however, with writing staight-up pop songs is that the artist usually has to establish in what arena his or her work will be set, whether it be 70s-style warm electric guitar/piano, a lo-fi fuzzed out indie rock setting, or a super crisp near-folkiness that will bode well with Dave Matthews Band fans. Gescha, however, does no such thing. He very bizarrely chooses to float in between all options, a kind of indecisiveness which would normally cause an unlistenable mess and easily upset everyone who heard it, but instead, it perfectly showcases Gescha's pure songwriting talent. It's hard to love this record for this reason, because no matter who you are, you wish it sounded a certain way throughout (personally, I wish he chose the warm 70s route a la Neil Young), but no matter what your preference, it becomes glaringly clear that Gescha is a fantastic melody-maker, and his lyrics are never as embarrassing as the production suggests, which is really the thing that saves the record. The corny plugged-in-acoustic-guitar sound that pervades the disc, paired with awful synthesized drums would almost definitely sink the album, if not for the honesty and confidence Gescha displays in every moment. He is totally immersed in his own songs, and if he slipped out of character at any point, the whole thing would likely come crashing down around him, but he has complete faith in himself, which causes you to have faith in him, and all of a sudden, you realize how wonderful these songs are.

Hopefully Greg makes up his mind about what era/genre he wants to pursue, but for now we can all take comfort in knowing we finally have an accessible songwriter in our midst that is worth a damn.

Matt Learoyd

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