Certain Breeds walks on the creepy side
By Gregory Adams
Certain Breeds loves a good horror flick. Huddled together in vocalist-keyboardist Jen Riego’s Mount Pleasant bachelor pad, the quartet’s members are doing their best to answer questions surrounding their achingly gloomy self-titled debut, but the distraction of Italian splatter legend Dario Argento’s Deep Red playing across the room proves too much.

"That’s blood and spit," Riego shrieks excitedly as a woman’s head is taken clean off on the nearby TV screen, her neck gushing a mixture of red-and-white goo.

"I’ve always been into dark stuff," the singer adds, noting that this extends beyond her preferred movie genre. In addition to having an obsession with ’80s goth godfathers Bauhaus, Riego frequently favoured all-black attire as a teenager. "When I was in high school," she says, "I used to have big hair and wear so much eye makeup and white face makeup." Hesitantly, she also admits to having a spider tattoo.

"I don’t really talk about it too often," she allows.

"Jen’s an ex-goth," lanky keyboardist David Reynolds says with a laugh.

Unsurprisingly, Riego’s obsession with the macabre has found its way into Certain Breeds’ music. Their album’s kickoff track, "2 A.M.", finds the singer contemplating letting vampires into her home as cold-sounding drum machines and Leanne Chapman’s cello create what could be a postpunk soundtrack for Nosferatu. The similarly spooky "Street Dogs" barrels along on clanking drums and cathedral synth-organs.

"That song is about killer dogs," Reynolds explains before Chapman chimes in, "Killer dogs that eat children!"

The chill factor of the track is amped up by a sample of howling wolves that Reynolds dug up. "I do a lot of sound-mangling," he says proudly.

If Certain Breeds had been around during the earlier part of this decade, its Siouxsie Sioux–style new wave jams would’ve made the band natural practice-space mates with ’80s-obsessed Vancouver scenester acts like Radio Berlin, the Organ, and the Automovement. Currently, the foursome is desperately looking for clubs to play. "We’re having a hard time getting shows in Vancouver," drummer Corey Woolger admits.

Although content with its current direction, cellist Chapman had something else in mind when she started Certain Breeds a few years back. After picking up her instrument for the first time since elementary school, she began writing some seriously melancholy material.

"The cello is a sad-sounding instrument," she says timidly. "I started writing sad-sounding stuff. It’s easier for me to write stuff like this than anything else."

Early tunes came out as weepy country ballads, but as each member was recruited, the sound began to morph into something much more heart-wrenching. "Central Cavern" explores the romantic side of goth, as swells of classical strings and duelling synths buoy Riego’s melodious vocals. Over and over she delivers the song’s only lines: "If you go, can I go with you? Don’t say it’s too hard to do."

"They’re romantic, heartbreak lyrics," the singer says, shrugging uncomfortably. "It’s about wanting to have a relationship with somebody that has other plans in mind."

The disc’s notable lack of words is rooted in a determination to avoid cluttered compositions—"You don’t want to have too much going on," Riego insists—but could also be explained by the nature of the group. A gang of introverts, the musicians of Certain Breeds are all extremely shy. Performances don’t exactly offer up a torrent of clever stage banter.

"In between songs, there is dead air," the vocalist explains. "We’re very awkward and don’t know how to sell ourselves."

The recent release of Certain Breeds brings the promise of more shows, which will hopefully help the unit get over its stage fright. Until then, the members of Certain Breeds are more than happy—and likely more comfortable—hanging out in Riego’s apartment, quietly arguing between grisly decapitation scenes about who is the shiest of them all. For the record, they’ve decided upon gentle giant Reynolds.

"I’m the most awkward," he says with a nervous laugh. "I’m tall, and I just don’t fit in."

Certain Breeds are Spooky and Unique

Vancouver's Certain Breeds deliver their self-titled debut album with a cover that just about matches the music; odd and compelling. As, what appears to be, a hoofed rat with an ugly human face races down some stairs away from a studio door proclaiming "On The Air", while a drunk sits in a corner dressed in business attire. The music just keeps going in that direction.

The album's nine tracks weave through a landscape that one would expect to find in an artsy thriller or at a sophisticated Halloween party. Jennifer Riego's chilling vocals provide the perfect lead in this album complete with creepy music that sounds like it's sung by the kindest monster.

If you're looking for something completely different, then this album will certainly fill that void. You'll be hard pressed to find anything like this and it's fairly refreshing albeit spine-chilling.

Jeph: When I tried to find out more about these guys on the internet, it mostly just brought up stuff about different dog breeds. It did bring up their MySpace page. But most of the sites were kennel club stuff. So, now I know a lot more about dogs than I do about this band. The album sounds good, though. A lot of circus organ. And I think some of these songs might be waltzes!

Meg: Yeah, this music is perfect for a horror movie about evil dolls, but I found some of it a little unbelievable. Like on Track 08, when the lady sings: "I used to have a pony/ I think his name was Sampson." Seriously, I'm supposed to believe that she actually had her own pony and now she can't even remember the name? Total liar.

Jeph: That's true. Especially with a memorable name like Sampson. I would like to name a dog "Mark". Or would that be weird? Having a little dog named "Mark"?

Meg: Jeesh. You won't even let me have a bunny.

The whole Myspace practice of giving bands three genres in which to categorize their music rarely yields anything in the way of useful descriptions, but sometimes -- as with Certain Breeds -- it's not too far off. After all, they describe their music as "psychedelic", "pop" and "gothic"; even if their music could only ever be described as poppy if it existed in some hellish alternate reality, the other two adjectives capture the essence of their self-titled debut quite nicely.

Essentially, the album sounds like a ride through some demonic funhouse, right down to the creepy circus organ in "Abandoned Uranium". "Central Cavern" sounds like a body getting tangled in seaweed at the bottom of a lake, both "Cold Room" and "Otoroxia" should be soundtracking the relentless marches of horror movie monsters, and "2 AM" sounds like the riot grrl movement being revived momentarily, before being put through a meat grinder. It's a strange, strange album, but it shows that Certain Breeds are worth keeping an eye on...if only to make sure they don't make any sudden moves