Little Scream

Little Scream might be one star in Montreal's bright musical sky, but Laurel Sprengelmeyer's story is the stuff of an American country song: born in Iowa, raised along the banks of the mighty Mississippi, getting her first guitar from the insurance money her mom received after crashing the green Chevy pick-up she got from divorcing Sprengelmeyer's father.  Given that story and her music, it's only fitting that Sprengelmeyer still plays that black Fender guitar from time to time during Little Scream's live shows.

At times, Little Scream’s Secretly Canadian debut, The Golden Record, can sound like the product of a city that can claim groups like A Silver Mt. Zion, The Arcade Fire, and Stars as its own.  With members from those acts at her back, and Arcade Fire producer Richard Reed Parry behind the glass, it's only natural that tunes like “The Lamb” and “Your Radio” echo their sense of scale and sound. 

But as thrilling and gorgeous as that shimmering sprawl can be, it's when Little Scream tightens its focus and keeps things simple that The Golden Record truly amazes.  “The Heron And The Fox,” for instance, puts the spotlight squarely on Sprengelmeyer's warm and fragile voice and the story she has to tell.  For “Guyegaros,” it's Sprengelmeyer's bluesy, distorted guitar playing that takes center stage, while her singing strikes a more worldly and sensual pose.  On the rough and tumble “Cannons,” Sprengelmeyer positions herself as a worthy challenger to Florence & The Machine's Billboard crown; on “Black Cloud,” she's an idiosyncratic songwriter offering a lonesome lullaby. No matter what fancy new outfit Sprengelmeyer finds herself trying on, The Golden Record never sounds less than genuine, and Little Scream sounds nothing less than beautiful. —David Raposa