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If you like deep-thinking Canadian art-rock, then Motherhood might be for you

Motherhood's fourth album Winded explores the natural world as it mirrors human suffering

Motherhood: Winded album art
(Image: © Forward Music Group)

What’s the point of it all? That seems to be the question Canadian artrock trio Motherhood are pondering here. There’s an overarching sense of grubby futility to Winded, and, oddly enough, there’s joy to be taken from that in its parallel exploration of the brutal beauty of nature. 

Musically there are shades of Art Is Hard-era Cursive in the brash skronk and raw vocals of openers Crawley I and Crawley II, and a debt of gratitude to Pixies is paid in the contrast between frontman Brydon Crain’s shriek and bassist Penelope Stevens’s sweetly crooned harmonies. 

From the stormy punk fury of Ripped Sheets to a queasy, slow-motion portrait of a car crash in Handbrake, with its pounding, sludgy guitars overwhelming the piece as the final collision draws inexorably nearer, Motherhood embrace the darkness to find strength. 

And by the time we reach Trees – a woozy waltz of acceptance – there’s a sense that there probably is no meaning to it all, and maybe that’s just fine.

Emma has been writing about music for 25 years, and is a regular contributor to Classic Rock, Metal Hammer, Prog and Louder. During that time her words have also appeared in publications including Kerrang!, Melody Maker, Select, The Blues Magazine and many more. She is also a professional pedant and grammar nerd and has worked as a copy editor on everything from film titles through to high-end property magazines. In her spare time, when not at gigs, you’ll find her at her local stables hanging out with a bunch of extremely characterful horses.