After producing 14 albums of well-crafted, heartfelt guitar pop – and never quite gaining commercial success to match his critical acclaim – Canadian troubadour Ron Sexsmith is considering calling it a day. The clue is in the title, of course, and he has spoken of feeling adrift in today’s music industry. But in truth, Sexsmith has never fitted in, and The Last Rider is no exception – there are no sonic fireworks here, nor bold, ear-grabbing melodies. Rather, the 53-year-old trades in elegant songcraft and romantic ruminations, completely out of step with modern trends: Our Way and Upward Dog sound like the kind of records you’d like Paul McCartney (a Sexsmith fan) to be making now; West Gwillimbury boasts a Costello-esque melody, and is as zeitgeisty as a song about a town in south-central Ontario is ever likely to be. If Sexsmith really is calling it a day, the music world will keep on turning – but it will be a lesser place.
