Little Kid - A Million Easy Payments

Ordinal/Gold Day Records

Like a flower unfurling towards the sun, Little Kid ever so slowly open themselves up to the listener. Of an introverted demeanour, A Million Easy Payments is the latest release from Toronto five-piece Little Kid.

The wimpy kid from school got a guitar. You know, the kid that would walk down the school hallway like a paranoid cat on the high street. He decided to write some songs. He's a very talented fellow. He still has the confidence issues that plagued him his whole life, but he's coming to terms with them - seeing them eye to eye; warming up to the lessons that a lack of anything teaches. The curse is the gift, and vice versa. The self-awareness that stopped him in his tracks has smoothed out. Life hasn't gotten any less frightening, but his views have changed. It's better to be of the overly self-aware variety than the overly unaware. Somewhere in the middle would be nice, but not ideal - always at odds with oneself. Neither here nor there. The wheel of life slowly turning with no way out. 

Leaves fall from trees. They wither and make their way on down; they fall from grace. The feeble twigs can no longer live a half-decent existence; they cease to grip. The crunch underfoot signifies a change in seasons. The taste in the air thins out. The insides of your nostrils burn more than they did yesterday. Melancholia manifests in a multitude of ways. That sinking feeling has only gone and gotten deeper; the cheeky bastard. The days feel longer, though they always have, and always will be, the same length. 

This is about as intimate as it gets without having the songs sung face-to-face. If you have your wits about you, you can smell the coffee brewing somewhere in the background of the recordings. 'Intimate' is a word that falls short in describing the album. It feels like it's being performed just for you.