A Million Easy Payments, by Little Kid (2024)

1.

passing you by when they pass one aroundused to get high but now it gets you downlike you can't get out of some trouble you're inso certain somehow that now all of your friendsare talking all over townthe way that you've beenhas been weighing you downand everybody you've methas had something to say aboutsomething you’ve saidonce in a while walk a mile in your clothesso i never minded you minding your ownif i can't get out of some trouble i ve madei'll find away how to stay out of your waytalking all over townthe way that you've beenhas been weighing you downand everybody you've methas had something to say aboutsomething you’ve saidtalking all over townthe way that you've beenhas been weighing you downand everyone and their friendshave had something to say aboutsomething you’ve saidthey’ve got something to saythey’ve got something to saythey’ve got something to saythey’ve got something to say

2.

in occupied palestinenear the birthsite of christcaught some footage that you wouldn't believethat night on channel 7ran a slanted segmentthrough the midwest on the mid-middle eastbut you’ve told me howyou keep your volume downcause all that's coming from your humming tvis bad energyyou went to youth group firstat that lutheran churchwhere the pastor dressed so casuallyand when your mom worked nightsand her money was tighthe kindly offered he could watch you for freedenied jesus bloodand now you sleep in sundaysbut you tell me that you’ll always believein bad energybad energyand now your engine burnsremains of ancient birdsgo into town to drive around and then leaveyou tore a gash right clearthrough the atmosphereand now there's nothing that can buffer the heatbut the sun is shiningand your love is smilingin a moment getting warmed by a beamof bad energybad energybad energyyou watched the market crashand the marquee flashyour eyes a-darken just a-walkin the streetyou felt the breath of godin a restauranthe was just asking what you’re having to eatyou knew you had to leavehim a gratuityor else it’d come up to the sum of the beastand bad energybefore the smokers crammedbetween the local bandsto split a puff and flick their butts in the streetthey played it loud and slowwithout a metronomehe always hit a bit ahead of the beatsaw him slurring and smilingat the girls outsidesaid you could sense it so immense underneathbad energybad energybad energybad energyyou traced your lineage backto all that glimmering blackaround the abrahamic family treeand in that blend of bloodcounted descendants ofyour holy mother mitochondrial evewere you the chosen sonor the broken onewho had some notions up disposable sleevesand bad energy?and when our saviour cameshe kept her maiden namehe was concepted quite exceptionallylearned if you’re only friendlywith a dozen menone might still kill you with a kiss on the cheekand as that muted lightfell from his wounded sidecowboy centurion was sure he could feela bad energybad energybad energybad energybad energy

3.

when i heardwhat you'd learnedi was beside myselfi side-eyedthem wide-eyedmy uncertainty dispelledi asked meso nicelyto step out of that darkcompared scarsand matched ouridentifying marks"poor bastardyou'd pass formy image in a mirror"i leaned instill reelingand whispered in my earwe researchedyour featuresthere is no precedentnot recentor ancientno living testamentbut poolsideyour blue eyesand diamonds on your wristi’m feedingyou peachesyou’re spitting out the pitsto caesarwhat’s caesar’sand what is mine’ll stay minemost preciouspossessionkeep it with me all the timedelilahdelilahand samson with his jawbonei can'tbe that manor any man at all

4.

there's a crumbling statuenext to heaven’s gateand it's covered in scratchesthat the weather madeit has an old engravingthough its growing faintand it says: thingsalways changeand you felt it mostlyin your melted youthwhen you held him closelyand you held him truebut you grew complacentlike you knew he'd staynow you know thingsalways changeyou're performing favoursyou're in foreign tradeyour important papersin the pouring rainand the ink’s all bleedingand it can't be savedbut you know thingsalways changein the radiationin the radio wavesin the drainage basinfull of ancient rainin the publicationsin the painted cavesit is plainly statedwritten plain as daythat we know thingsalways changethough your faith is fadingyou’re remaining chastethere's a trace of angerin your saviour’s faceand the sons of jacobwrote an old refrainhear the angels play itwhen you misbehavebut the arrangementsalways changeby the light of nothingyou’re writing lines of codeyou’re dividing constantstrying to find unknownsand there’s this endless numberfilling every pageand it proves thingsalways change

5.

limits of the riverssideways-sliding to the southrounding out the boundaryof the plaindarkening the carpetat the far end of the housesummer spurred a seizurein my brainambulances cameweaving a whinin’ siren down the highwayleaving a smilin’ silence in your life, babeand even your sharin'-cherry-cola mindfragile as an eggshelleggshellburied me, remarriedyou were barely getting byjust you two 'n' a justiceof the peacesplit out to the cityyou were really getting tiredof finding whatreminded you of mebut the kids you had to keepdoing their best impression of the dead, babeleaving a smilin’ silence in your best daysresembling every memory you have leftup in your sharin'-cherry-cola headfragile as an eggshelleggshell

6.

finally getting light outsee the sun as it cuts through the treesbeen up for a while nowbut you left me in bed, still asleepthe little bit of kindnessin my heart’s getting harder to seeyou said "i wouldn't mind itif you kept a percentage for me"but now you're drivingbit above the limit on the highwaycigarette but nothing there to light ita song came on the radio that made you feellike you haven't felt in yearsand now you're cryingcause every time you hear it you're remindedof a younger love but now you're undecidedif it's a piece of trash or a masterpieceprobably somewhere in betweenhad to turn the light oncouldn't tell what the hell you were seeingyou'd walked in on the lionwith the lamb and his hand to the heatthe little bit of kindnessin my heart's getting harder to seebut what you've been supplyingi will happily help you depleteand you've been drivingjetlagged like the red-eye to the islandbitter heart departing and arrivingthe rain they're draining out by the refineryand when you finally sleepyou're having nightmareseven when i'm sleeping there beside youwaking up just shaking in the quietwondering if it’s real or if it’s still a dreamor something in betweenand now you're drivingbit above the limit on the highwayall pretty with the glitter on your eyelidsmagically avoiding a tragedyand the hand that feedsyou wanna bite itnever were the kind to turn to violencehesitate to even break a silenceyou're saying it's not entirely you or meit's somewhere in between

7.

crooked headboardcrooked bedcrooked landlord is raising your rentif its under freezingovernightpray to jesus that engine will lightyou say it's nothing at allthe kind of thing that just goes away on its ownfascinationflashing lightstractor trailer right through the dividerhalf an hourhalf a milehave to ask ‘bout that look in your eyesyou say it's nothing at allthe kind of thing that just goes away on its ownbut it's going so slowthe smell of winteron your coatbrought it with you from out of the coldhardly knew youhardly timehard to move from that place in my mindshould be nothing at allthe kind of thing that just goes away on its ownbut it's going so slow

8.

didn't sign up for thiswhen i moved to the citypeople talk all the timeall milk-mouthed and mindlesswith the pulse of the cluband the shuddering subwayand the folks making lovein the unit above meand the cries of the kidsthrough the wires of your windowand the hiss of the heatand the sizzling streetlightand the cars passing byon the highway behind itand the hum of the fridgeas we spin in the kitchenqualifies as silencethe closest i can findused to play in a bandback when you were a grandchildjust some friends drinking beery’know - nothing too serioushad a couple good songsbut you can barely recall ‘emthough you weren't one to tourgot some lucky support slotsbut when you walked on that stagestarted acting all strange-likeand you’d peel back your eyespress ‘em against the amplifiersand you’d stretch out your liphold it up to the cymbalstill you noticed the soundgetting louder and louderqualifies as silencethe closest i can findtucked away from the roadfar from all that commotionno more sirens at nightjust the wind in the pine treesand the moon on the lakeand the droning cicadasbut on my quietest nightthat's when my memories find meall the words that i saidwords i later regrettedand the love that we madeand the love that i wastedsee my dad in his chairand the soil where he's buriedand the men that i trustand the room where they touch mequalifies as silencethe closest i can findthis qualifies as silencethe closest i can find

A camera zooms in without crowding its subject. A song about someone else’s damage helps you understand your own, and puts you on to new mysteries. Stars look like grains of sand. On Little Kid’s new album and Orindal Records debut A Million Easy Payments, the urgency in Kenny Boothby’s voice matches the stakes of his lyrics, epic ballads and reveries that come at life from all angles and exposures, driving at and a little over the limits of self-reflection. The band’s lilting folk rock arrangements carry Boothby’s stories, occasionally lifting them skyward with flurries of cello samples, pedal steel, flute, and electric piano. It’s a record of depression and frustration that doesn’t stew in piety or aestheticize pain, that also explodes with life. Fragile and abundant. It’s a record with blood in its veins.

Little Kid is a Toronto-based collaborative project that has existed in some form since 2009, and is currently comprised of Brodie Germain (drums, guitar), Paul Vroom (bass), Megan Lunn (vocals, banjo, keyboard), Liam Cole (drums, percussion), and Kenny Boothby (vocals, guitar, piano, keyboards). A Million Easy Payments, like the three Little Kid releases before it, was tracked, engineered, and mastered by Vroom. Vroom’s work renders a portrait of Little Kid’s twin musical strengths — as a live act, a straight-ahead folk rock outfit, and as a group of creative, independent producers who want to mess things up. To that end, the record features several guest instruments: Eliza Niemi’s cello, Anh Phung’s flute, Seth Engel’s percussion, Peter Gill’s pedal steel, and Aaron Powell’s voice. Every so often, the boundaries fray. Chaotic flute layers transport the outro to “Beside Myself.” Banjo careens off the edge of “Something to Say.” The kick drum in “Bad Energy” is more than a heartbeat.

Like a minimalist composition, an Emily Dickinson poem, a Frankenthaler painting, early Sufjan Stevens, or the songs of many of Little Kid’s new labelmates at Orindal, A Million Easy Payments is brilliant insofar as it teems with texture and meaning under an outward image of simplicity. A peaco*ck in sheep’s clothing. Its lyrical and musical density never comes at the expense of clarity or striking melodies. Like your favorite movie or novel, you come back to A Million Easy Payments again and again for the pleasure of its beauty, but also because it reveals something new every time.

Little Kid has always centered around Boothby’s songwriting, and A Million Easy Payments proves his enormous skill many times over. He tackles the extended ballad tradition, zooming in and out with mind-bending control on “Bad Energy”:

And now your engine burns remains of ancient birds
Go into town to drive around and then leave
You tore a gash right clear through the atmosphere
And now there’s nothing that can buffer the heat
But the sun is shining and your love is smiling
In a moment getting warmed by a beam
Of bad energy

Boothby’s writing is charged with love, absence, stagnation and change, often refracted through the lens of Christian thought, experienced by friends, exes, everyday people and Biblical characters. Later on in “Bad Energy,” Boothby jokes “if you’re only friendly with a dozen men/ one might still kill you with a kiss on the cheek.” In “Eggshell,” a ghost reflects on his own death to his widow, a story based on the death of Boothby’s father: “ambulances came/ weaving a whining siren down the highway/ leaving a smiling silence in your life, babe.” The “I” sound woven in descending melodies. Two lanes of Boothby’s airy tenor. Two lanes of guitar.

Across A Million Easy Payments, Boothby’s dexterity, rhythm, internal rhyming prowess, and ear for poetic sound are matched only by the pathos of his stories. The words are crafted deliberately, not to show off mastery, but to share hard-earned findings. To try and see the self in context and up close, and to prove the inquiry to be both futile and crucial. To dig around for God. The pool is murky. Not as reflective as we’d hoped. — Dan Wriggins

released February 23, 2024

recorded slowly from november 2019 - february 2023
in toronto, ON at the second pharmacy
in london, ON at the sugar shack
in etobico*ke, ON at cherry jam
in our homes in toronto, ON, kingston, ON, london, UK, and london, ON
and in someone else's home in kimberley, ON

recorded, mixed, and mastered by paul vroom

lyrics by kenny boothby
music by little kid

little kid is kenny boothby, brodie germain, paul vroom, liam cole, & megan lunn

with: aaron powell - vocals (2), eliza niemi - cello (4,8) and cello sample (2), anh phung - flute (3), seth engel - bongos (3), peter gill - pedal steel (8)

cover painting & design by james lee chiahan – ravine photo by aisha ghali