Chilliwack's 1972 record All Over You is maybe the most under-appreciated piece of art to ever come out of Canada, move over who ever it is the Group of Seven overshadowed (we honestly don't know up here, they're all we got) Chilliwack is here to sing the blues––all over you? This album is a goddamn treasure, and it's harder to find than it should be. It isn't on YouTube, and my son tells me everything is on YouTube. Well guess what, Kevin? Not this masterpiece, it's not on your fucking internet. The only place Chilliwack would pop up in the wild is when that bald-headed, soda-drinkin', patio lantern talk-box Kim Mitchell would gloat about opening for them in the 70's on Q107.1 Classic Rock.
The title track, Singin' the Blues (All Over You), is pretty good. You read the title, now think 70's rock music, and you probably have a good idea what it sounds like, it's good. This jam is really about the second and third song, Groundhog and Chickenshit Man, the time I first heard Groundhog is the time I also became a Chickenshit Man. My father was displaying how to skin a groundhog with a Swiss Army knife, he put All Over You on the turntable and starting working away at its skin, the blade was very dull and after Nothin' to Do the record stopped as he clumsily tried to work the skin off a groundhog with his weak-hinged knife, I didn't hear side B for over 20 years.
I couldn't find a copy of this record until well into my adulthood, the only time I heard Chilliwack is when Kim fucking Mitchell would play Crazy Talk on the radio (a song from an inferior album) It wasn't until my chess partner and pill dealer that died from diabetic complications left me a vinyl copy could I listen in its entirety, I even caught a groundhog just in case things got really passionate. Side B is also good.
The Fields & The Sea is an awfully optimistic opening to help bleach away the visions of my father gutting small mammals, it sounds like being stoned and sitting in the backseat of a car on a summer's day, stuck in traffic with the windows down, smoking a cigarette. It sounds like having long hair, like having hair. This is music that gets dads pumped up, and the author is really hoping the reader doesn't hate dads. If you do, worry not. This isn't actually dad music, I lied to you, it's Satan's music. Now, hopefully you don't hate Satan, if you do, I can't help you. I mean, there's a song on this album called Rock N' Roll Music, and if I learned anything from the TV, it's that Satan loves Rock n' Roll.
This is the perfect album to put on, draw a bath, and forget about your taxes to. It's mindless in the best way possible, it doesn't ask anything of you like my fucking son Kevin always does. All Over You brushes your hair and whispers sweet nothings in your ear, takes you back to before your father started making you star in 'movies' in the mid-70's, it's a diamond in the rough, whatever that means.
Five Brent Butts out of a Narduar