I live in Calgary, a city of one million people that’s fairly isolated in the vast prairies of Western Canada. A few weeks ago we had our first snowfall of the season. Winter is bitterly cold here, and it lasts for months — last year it got cold in September, and it didn’t let up until late April. There was snow on the ground for roughly a third of the year, with windchill temperatures regularly going below -30 Celcius (that’s -22 Fahrenheit). When it’s so cold outside, it takes a lot to convince any sane person to leave the house. In the coldest days of winter, there’s quite honestly nothing to do but get as warm and cozy as possible, often in isolation from friends and socializing — and that, at least for those of us up here with a penchant for introverted 90s indie rock, is where Eric’s Trip comes in.
Eric’s Trip, from Moncton, New Brunswick, experienced their share of winters. The majority of their discography is laced with lo-fi tape hiss, the mark of extensive 4-track recording done in basements and bedrooms — the sorts of isolated recording locales the Canadian winter tends to force upon a person. I’ve never experienced winter in the Maritimes, but I can imagine the chilly ocean air makes something comparable to the snowy wastelands I’ve grown up with in the west. This is part of why I like the song “Smoke” so much — somehow, it finds beauty in the winter life.
“Smoke” comes from The Road South, a three-song 7” that Sonic Unyon released in 1995. Much of Eric’s Trip’s music is as 90s as one can get, often warranting comparison to Sebadoh/Dinosaur Jr./etc. — but “Smoke” strikes me as distinctly their own, lightly psychedelic and reserved. Put simply: “Smoke” is a winter mixtape staple.
Rick White opens the song by quietly singing, “snow outside is only in your eyes.” After the first verse, however, a beautiful harmonized vocal line fills out the recording space, sounding as enveloping as a fresh coat of snow. The tremolo-soaked guitar notes are as brittle as ice, and the cavernous, echoed vocals that fade in during the last minute are as cold and airy as a winter breeze. I feel that songs like “Smoke” can only be crafted in the heart of winter, so let’s ignore that this single was originally released in July 1995.
Eric’s Trip wrote other winter songs. Both Rick White and Julie Doiron continue to write their fair share (The Unintended, a band that’s essentially Rick White with the Sadies, put out a distinctly cold album in 2003). It’s “Smoke,” however, that does it for me: in just over three minutes, Eric’s Trip crafted a quintessential 90s indie rock track for the coldest — but vaguely optimistic — moments of winter.
