Cindy Lee’s Diamond Jubilee: A Review
Danny Petrie analyses Patrick Flegal’s journey through a foggy rock netherworld
Diamond Jubilee album cover
Imagine yourself in a post-apocalyptic world, cowering in an underground bunker. As you fiddle with the knobs of your radio, you finally manage to tune into the only station available. It sounds like ‘50s or ‘60s pop, but it feels different. Perhaps it's your lousy radio, but it almost sounds like the radioactivity from the atmosphere has seeped into the music itself. This is the best description I can give for the feeling that Cindy Lee’s latest album, Diamond Jubilee, evokes.
Cindy Lee is Pat Flegal’s drag alter ego, and they began their music career as a part of the Calgary-based underground psychedelic rock outfit, Women. The band released several great songs, including the 2010 album Public Strain, a much-loved classic in noise-rock and post-punk circles in the last decade. However, the same year this album was released, an infamous on-stage fight led to the cancellation of the rest of their tour, and the band fractured. A few years later hopes of the band reuniting were crushed by the tragic passing of their guitarist, Chris Reimer. Flegal then struck out on their own under a few different names, but most notably as Cindy Lee, releasing 7 albums in the past 12 years, none of which have drawn such a positive reaction as Diamond Jubilee has garnered over the last few months.
“Diamond Jubilee is a time capsule from an alternate reality, with Flegal crafting a lo-fi, retro-surrealist, hypnagogic pop experience.”
Upon listening you can hear why. Diamond Jubilee is a time capsule from an alternate reality, with Flegal crafting a lo-fi, retro-surrealist, hypnagogic pop experience. The album sounds as if a ghost with a liking for post-punk, possessed a number of different genres giving us haunting, eerie snippets of ’50s doo-wop, ’60s girl groups, psychedelic pop and lo-fi indie to name a few. There are vibes of Brian Wilson-esque sunshine pop production, while also sounding at times like outtakes from a Velvet Underground project. The vocal performances are sparse yet ghostly, performed for the majority in Flegel’s androgynous falsetto. Flegel’s technical ability is also clear on this record, with incredible guitar chops on display. The lo-fi quality which has soured a few of Cindy Lee’s other albums, is an asset here. Flegal has managed to write songs which cut through the warm fuzz of mayhem, created by the blemishes, “wrong” notes, and sonic bleed.
Patrick Flegal performing
Being a single 2-hour long recording, it's often hard to know when one track starts and another ends, but this doesn’t prevent the record from having its highs. The opening title track sets the tone for the album with an eerie, tense combination of guitar and strings putting you on edge, just to be comforted again by Flegal’s vocals, grounding the track with a confident but melancholic groove. “Olive Drab”, playing 17 minutes later, contains a rhythmic 70s baseline with agitated out-of-tune strings playing over the top, as the track lurches back and forth. In the second half of the album “Gayblevision” shifts the tone and pace of the album, bringing a new wave synth-pop vibe, but of course, sounding like it's being played through a busted four-track."What's It Going to Take" offers a more restrained sadness, with a richer vocal sound compared to the rest of the album which delivers cryptic, poignant lyrics over sweet guitar lines.
A couple of small things hold this album back. I really enjoyed when Flegal brought a more varied production style at times on this album, like in “What’s it Going to Take”. With 2 hours to fill, some more diversity in sonic quality may have been an interesting feature. And it is this unrelenting lo-fi production which can at times hurt the album. The out-of-tune guitar and mistimed drums feel purposeful and fitting in most instances, but occasionally bring you out of the atmosphere of the song you’re in, or just sound lazy. The mixing is the same story, with basslines, drums and melodic lines at times swallowing up the rest of the parts. But all of these sonic aspects do seem an artistic choice from Flegal and do not massively take away from my enjoyment of the album.
“At a time when streaming platforms have an unprecedented amount of power over what you listen to, Diamond Jubilee definitely feels like a big fat middle finger toward the lizard people.”
I can sit here and type niche music buzzwords all day, but there’s so much to this album that the only way to experience it is to go and discover it yourself. At a time when streaming platforms have an unprecedented amount of power over what you listen to, Diamond Jubilee definitely feels like a big fat middle finger toward the lizard people. I implore you to listen to the first few songs, even if it does mean closing Spotify and opening YouTube. Just make sure you have your 30 Canadian Dollars at hand to send Flegal’s way.