Silver Wolf Band are from Labrador, and through the profoundly stunning lyrics on their latest offering, they want to make sure you know it. Storms & Prayers is punctuated by classic odes to Labrador and overall feels like a love letter to the place the band calls home.
Their English rendition of “Sons of Labrador (Until You Come Home), originally an Innu song by Gregoire Boys, feels like a patriotic anthem, singing of its beauty and wonder. The melody of the chorus, accompanied by the commercial twinkle of piano would be a fitting accompaniment to a particularly inviting tourism video.
That’s not to label it as corporate. There’s a clear outpouring of love noting it as personally special, especially to a band that describes themselves as “unabashedly Labradorian.”
This same energy can be heard in their versions of “Land Called Labrador” by Harry Martin, and “Woman of Labrador” by Andy Vine, which opens the album.
Their continued use of nature imagery clearly stems from this love of the land around them. “Estuary”, the lead single from the album, weaves philosophical ponderings and debate out of a body of water that has somehow managed to be just slightly controversial. There are some fun flourishes in the chorus with the keys and percussion, presenting some of the most dynamic sounds on the album.
The tracks tackle personal relationships and experiences with the same poeticism present in their appreciation of nature. “Little Ways” cuts particularly deep in its exploration of a dying marriage, especially when children become involved.
“If I knew you were sad, I could have said a prayer to anybody who was listening,” sings lead vocalist Jamie Jackman, with palpable desperation. “How could you turn away from the face of my daughter, from the face of my son?”
The album’s title comes from two back to back songs, “Storms” and “Prayers.” “Storms” is a melancholy love song about sticking with someone through thick and thin, while “Prayers” equates the loss of a relationship to drowning. It very much feels rooted in the same world, with the latter serving as a tragic sequel to the former.
The album ends on an upbeat note with “Get Outta Here”, calling back to some of the quirkier production choices found on “Estuary”. It feels divinely crafted to be the perfect concert closer. The steady heartbeat drum, the layered chanting – you can close your eyes and picture yourself in a live venue, a high-energy crowd pushing in on either side. Until that’s possible again, this song is the next best thing, and a happy note to end on.