A Series of Small Flames: A Question of Where Elizabeth Powell Has Gone.
In this Internet age in which we live—where information is,
quite literally, everywhere, you’d think you would know if a band you liked was
still together, or if they had called it a day.
That is not always the case.
Land of Talk were, and possibly still are, an indie rock
band from Montreal, fronted by Elizabeth Powell, backed by a somewhat revolving
door of a additional players. At last count, in the fall of 2010, Land of Talk
had grown well beyond the trio they started out as, requiring now an additional
guitarist, a keyboard player, and a back-up vocalist. This was what was
necessary to try to replicate the sound captured on the group’s ambitious second
full-length album, Cloak and Cipher.
Land of Talk formed in the mid-2000s, and has two full
lengths and a handful of EPs to their name—many of which were released on the
significant independent label Saddle Creek. Powell was recruited at one point
to be a member of the Canadian supergroup/collective Broken Social Scene, and a
member of the Arcade Fire contributed to Cloak
and Cipher. Bon Iver himself Justin Vernon even produced their debut
release—he and Powell were also romantically involved at the time.
Since wrapping up the tour in support of Cloak and Cipher, Land of Talk has
pretty much disappeared. Their official website has been taken down, and in its
place is a weird, shady looking site with links to old interviews with the band, and photos. Their webstore is
closed “temporarily.” The last time the band played live was in June of 2011
for the Canadian music and arts festival North by Northeast. Their social media
outlet on Facebook is full of posts from fans saying “we miss you,” or “please
come back,” with the last message posted by the band dating back to the summer
of 2011, when Powell was selling her guitar amplifier for $1,250.
I knew that money was an issue for the band—for Powell
specifically. In the summer of 2010, Cloak
and Cipher leaked onto the Internet (as most records tend to do these days)
and Powell took to Facebook to vent her frustration about people downloading
the album and not buying it and supporting her and the band. I saw them play
live when they were touring in support of the record—playing to a relatively
full house at a small venue that holds a little over 200 people. She seemed
genuinely moved by the amount of people there, and by the enthusiasm of the
audience, and made a comment about having played a run of really bad shows
prior to arriving in Minneapolis.
Like most bands do when playing live, Land of Talk kindly
directed people to purchase merchandise from them. I had no problem coughing up
$50 for the band—that got me a t-shirt, Cloak
and Cipher on vinyl, and a cassette tape called The Beautiful Era, a collection of songs recorded by Powell when
she was still a teenager. The tape, while self-indulgent at times, shows the
promise Powell showed as a songwriter at young age, maturing into the material
written for Land of Talk.
Aside from financial adversity facing the band in 2010,
Powell herself had to recover from a hemorrhaging vocal polyp in the winter of
2008, shortly after they were finished touring in support of their full-length
debut Some Are Lakes.
Nearly two and a half years have passed since Cloak and Cipher. Every time I wear my
Land of Talk t-shirt, see their sticker on the bumper of my car, see their
music files in the “L” section of my iTunes library—I stop and wonder just what
the hell happened to this band. I wonder if it just got to be too much for
Powell and she wanted to give it all up. I wonder if they will ever resurface
or if they will be just another 2000s era indie rock band to fade into
obscurity after one or two records.
The band’s Wikipedia page hasn’t been updated to reflect the
demise of the band, but whenever I think to check it for new information, I am
concerned I will see the “years active” listed from 2006-2013. In 2010 when I
saw them perform live, the band came back out for an encore, and I shouted as
loud as I could, “A Series of Small Flames,” the incredibly emotional closing
track from their 2009 EP Fun and Laughter.
As she tuned her guitar, she said into the crowd, “No, I can’t play that. I
would explode.”
So Elizabeth Powell, if you search for yourself on the Internet,
and if you are reading this, please let everybody know if Land of Talk is done
for good, or if you are on hiatus. I don't even care where you've been for the last three years.
If you are reading this, I hope that you
haven’t exploded.