There is a palpable mood at the heart of Canadian perennial Calvin Love’s work.
Only once in every blue moon comes an artist that seems so familiar yet out of space. Love arrives an enigma, a crooning, haunted voice. A person who peers into himself to reveal something about the world that might otherwise go unarmed, or perhaps merely felt and never properly articulated. I see Calvin at an intersection in every city on earth, unmasking the hidden wonder, and the past as construed by movies and the archetypes that populate our minds.
The hitchhiker. The gentle, supple poet whose aim is to elucidate humanity for the weary denizens of the weary world. He proves that in the form of cartoon darkness there is a reality beyond that which is fully amenable to basic speech, and so must be corralled in blind faith in a palette. All great artwork depends on a palette, on the choices that one makes in pulling the shades of that palette into one’s control out of a sense of belief that I don't understand. He is a rare gift that more than so much of what we're forced to consume offers a vision. For you, and for me, and for everyone lucky enough to be familiar with Calvin Love is the quintessential artist as inspiration.
With nods in comparison to Roy Orbison, and Bryan Ferry. Love has certainly drawn subtle inspiration from the classic singers of the 60s, 70s, and 80s. But Love’s work reflects on the modern journey. Songs for the introverts, songs for lonely and hopeful, and songs to soundtrack our lives through the quiet hours, and all the places our minds drift to as we head toward the uncertain future of the 21st Century. Emerging from the same vibrant Canadian scene as contemporaries Andy Shauf, Mac Demarco, and Sean Nicholas Savage. Love has established himself as a rare caliber of singer by blending obsession with the beauty of artifice and the inner systems of real and natural things it is this infallible match that makes Love’s work so strange and inviting.