Jagjaguwar Officially Going Steady With Canada; Canada Welcomes Attention but Not Ready for Full-On Penetration Yet

This year marks the 50th anniversary of the death of little-known author and poet E.C. Bentley. While his name means sweet F.A. to most, the man should be given his proper dues for two significant achievements. First, his early 20th-century story "Trent's Last Case" set the benchmark for future mystery novels and influenced giants of the genre like Agatha Christie and Dorothy Sayers. (It's also notable for being really funny, too; the main detective, Trent, falls for a primary suspect — always a really dumb idea — and figures out the motive for the crime, but only after getting every one of his deductions incorrect and only after being told by the criminal himself how it was envisioned.) And secondly, he was the inventor of humorous, biographical, four-line, limerick-like poems called clerihews (his middle name). With irregular line lengths and simple structure and rhyming (AABB), the clerihew is the perfect medium for wannabe poets, pranksters, and roasters, and hence, for this amateur-in-every-way TMT scribe.

Not one to rest on its huge laurels, Jagjaguwar Records has announced that it will start the new year with one obvious goal: to continue its amazing run of strong albums. If anyone can follow up a year in which it put out two Simon Joyner albums, Pink Mountaintops' Axis of Evol, the self-titled Ladyhawk LP, Swan Lake's Beast Moans, Oneida's Happy New Year, and a slew of other releases, our favorite Bloomington, Indiana-based label can.

You might be wondering what a long-deceased, mysterious author/poet has to do with the never-forgotten record company. Um, nothing. But when I put them together, it gives me a chance to post tracklists and try my hand at writing some truly terrible clerihews of my own about two upcoming Can-rock Jagjaguwar releases: The Besnard LakesThe Besnard Lakes Are the Dark Horse (out February 20) and Woke Myself Up by Julie Doiron (to be released January 23).

Besnard Lakes are from the Montreal,

The home of le smoked meat, y'all.

You know they are hung, of course,

Because they are the Dark Horse.

The Besnard Lakes Are the Dark Horse:

That old David Nadelle

Thought he was as smart as a bell. (Wha?)

Oh yeah, a genius, a real academic,

He's about as cool as a flu pandemic.

Nothing would be meaner

Than to knee him in his weiner.

But you know he would deserve it,

Because his clerihews stink like shee-it.

Okay, you think you got the skill

to write some clerihews that kill?

The best one sent to me

Will win a mixed CD!

Click on my name below

And attach your verse and address, yo.

I promise this single thing to you,

My mix will be better than my clerihews...

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