Chad VanGaalen sounds a bit like a schizophrenic
son of his fellow Canadian Neil Young. VanGaalen's past collections, cobbled
together from hundreds of songs written years apart, jarringly leapfrogged
styles and themes—it sounded like he needed meds. Settling into his
Calgary basement to pen Soft Airplane gave VanGaalen focus and purpose, making the Neil
Young comparison more appropriate. Mostly recording on an old tape machine and
a boom-box, VanGaalen embraces the charms of the homemade aesthetic: He
delicately layers guitar, banjo, percussion (both standard and unidentifiable),
electronic blips and loops and samples, synthesizers, distortion, and
accordions, but never loses his sophisticated fragility. Whether creaking
through the hollow harmonies of The Shins ("City Of Electric Light") or softly
drifting through wonder-filled banjo-pluckers ("Willow Tree"), Soft Airplane is complex and
deliberate, so that even an attempt at synth-dance ("Phantom Anthills") fits
the hopeful, dreamy country vibe of Young's '60s. VanGaalen's first two Sub Pop
albums were compelling, but Soft Airplane gives him a stronger identity.