Brief, exhilarating songs about love… of course; Pop is founded upon such foundations, but in Matthew Adam Hart’s gifted hands our wonder and gleeful idiocy is laid out in rare, brilliant detail. Critics and the public alike have recognized in Hart one of the most impressive compositional minds to emerge in years. He is a talent simultaneously modest but mighty, plainspoken but rigorously intelligent, creating miniature electronic epics that sound as if they were spun from gold.
The Weight’s On The Wheels is a mighty accomplishment long-coming for Matthew Hart: The Russian Futurists have left the “bedroom-pop sound” genre they helped define and made an ambitious studio-produced monster pop record loaded with low end, depth, volume, and Hart’s heart-breaking voice atop the mountain of sounds. Produced by Hart with the aid of Michael Musmanno (Outkast, Lilys, Arrested Development), the fourth studio album exposes a polished pop finish that Russian Futurists fans have been begging for. The Weight’s On The Wheels will cast a wider net on fans to be captured by the Futurists pop regalia. Tracks like “Horseshoe Fortune” and “Register My Firearms? No Way!” reveal Hart’s trademark ability to turn a phrase with heart-wrenching lyrics that evoke cinematic imagery, and “One Night, One Kiss”, a sugary duet with Heavy Blinkers crooner Ruth Minnikin now peels away the reverb and synths that used to envelop him, revealing a soulful Hart across crystal clear soundscapes. The bad-ass slammer “100 Shopping Days ‘Til Christmas” both begs an advertising bidding war with it’s chorus “100 Shopping Days ‘Til Christmas and you’re the one thing on my wish list” and shows off Hart’s love for hip hop with the skill and complexity of his lyrical flow. “Hoeing Weeds Sowing Seeds”, mixed by Grammy Award Winner Michael Brauer (Coldplay, John Mayer, The Bravery) and the lead single, is a celebration explosion, a thumping and glorious beat with classic Matthew Hart triumphant vocals rising atop the electronic paradise. The album, ten tracks in total, is front to end the best songs we’ve yet heard by Matthew Adam Hart and a new exciting day has dawned for one of the greatest song writers Canada has produced.
The Russian Futurists have three internationally acclaimed releases under their belt, and in 2007 Me, Myself and Rye was released; the amalgam of The Futurists’ hottest songs assembled from their three previous albums, digitally re-mastered. The Russian Futurists international profile saw them become UK-label mates with The Go! Team and The Pipettes, spawn a whirlwind experience that put them on a UK tour with Peter, Bjorn & John, North American dates with long time friends Caribou and Junior Boys and playing to 10000 fans at the Mada Festival in Brazil, while receiving acclaim and praise from the likes of NME, Clash, Spin, Time Out London, BBC, and X-FM. All the while producer-songwriter singer Matt Hart was remixing the likes of Stars, Sloan, Sally Shapiro, Dykehouse, Shout Out Louds, and Cadence Weapon.
Born and bred in the cold and lonely Ontario, border-town of Cornwall, and raised on hockey [“loving the Leafs is like being in love with a terrible woman”] Matt found comfort in the simplicity of AM Radio. “There are songs that were produced to sound like they belonged there. I used to sit up at night and drink a bottle of red wine and listen to AM to get inspired. My roommates used to think I was kind of a weirdo when they would walk into my room at 2 am and find me drunk listening to ‘Buttons & Bows’. I would like to end up on AM when I’m old and grey.”
Surprisingly, Hart’s roots as a producer and arranger lie not in Pop. “I was a compulsive Hip Hop producer from age 13 to 19,” he admits, “and would finish a completed Hip Hop track, from start to finish, every day after school” This interest is still evident in the Russian Futurists’ electronic rhythms, but a passion for the Pop music of his childhood (Abbey Road was a prominent obsession) is the heart of The Russian Futurists. “When I eventually began to try to make music other than beats it wasn’t my intention to make Pop. It just came out. I felt I was being stifled by Hip Hop and wanted to experiment with melody.”
Hart constructs his songs under the ongoing influence of Phil Spector, Brian Wilson “He showed me that Pop was able to be listenable and experimental at the same time.” Honesty shines through in all of The Russian Futurists’ songs – all the more remarkable for them having been conceived in Matthew Hart’s bedroom. Hart cheekily describes his sound as a result of “trying to make all of my songs huge, ambitious productions on very limiting and awful equipment.”
Red Red Wine
The Russian Futurists Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Ever seen,
Deadest hearts
And the cancer that grew in between
Blackest flesh
In our chests,
Blackest nights
And that's that ill fated day
When it all fades to gray
The skies just bawl
And destroy us all
But I've been where that's just fine
And it's like that all the time
It's dead as dirt
And it thrives on hurt
And they owe
What they've built
To our hearts
And the spears of pain we're using as stilts
We're looking 'round,
We'll never find
Perfect things
And all this squinting is leaving us blind
Futile days,
Aging skin,
And we watch
As innocence is falling to sin
'Cause I've seen starts turn to ends,
And seen the weakening of men
And red wine hopes
Go up in smoke
And young eyes under the moon
In midnight skies dark and blue
Torn to tears
And wasted years
So pass the bottle old friend,
We'll numb our hearts 'til the end
And raise a toast
To our sullen ghosts
When the tears fall like leaves
The losing team still believes
"We've got a shot"
In this pointless plot
And the warmth
Of a human mouth,
It relates
To the number of tales it's spewed out
Plus our bones
Are meant to break,
They reform,
The heart should follow suit for god's sake
And our bones
Mend and break,
They reform,
The heart should follow suit for God's sake
You're a pure setting sun
And the white moonlight hung
In evergreens
And winter scenes
And young eyes under that moon
In midnight skies dark and blue
Are torn to tears
And wasted years
The Russian Futurists’ song, “Red Red Wine,” is a haunting portrayal of the loneliness and pain that come with the passing of time. The lyrics describe a world that is dead and empty, where hope and innocence have been replaced by sin and aging. The imagery used in the song is strikingly bleak, with “deadest streets” and “blackest flesh” underscoring the sense of despair in the lyrics. The reference to “spears of pain” being used as stilts suggests that the characters in the song are using their own suffering to prop themselves up, highlighting the idea that our pain can become a crutch that we continue to lean on long after it has ceased to serve us.
As the song progresses, we get a sense of the singer’s resignation to the bleakness of the world around him. Lines like “we’ll never find perfect things,” and “all this squinting is leaving us blind,” suggest that he has given up on the idea of a better future. The line “we’ll numb our hearts ‘til the end” emphasizes the idea that the characters in the song have given up on finding true happiness, and are instead settling for a simulated version of it. The final lines of the song, “In evergreens and winter scenes…are torn to tears and wasted years,” drive home the sense of loneliness and regret that permeate the song.
Line by Line Meaning
Deadest streets
Ever seen,
The city streets are eerily quiet and empty, devoid of life and activity, and we have never seen such a stillness before.
Deadest hearts
And the cancer that grew in between
The people living here have lost hope and their hearts have become lifeless, while the darkness in between each person is spreading like a cancer.
Blackest flesh
In our chests,
Our hearts are heavy with sadness and negativity, and there is a sense of despair that weighs us down.
Blackest nights
And a dream's the only thing we have left
The nights are dark and oppressive, and the only glimmer of light is the dream of a better future.
And that's that ill fated day
When it all fades to gray
The skies just bawl
And destroy us all
There is a sense of impending doom, where everything slowly fades away, and the sky seems to cry out and destroy everything in its path.
But I've been where that's just fine
And it's like that all the time
It's dead as dirt
And it thrives on hurt
This sense of loss and hopelessness is something we are used to, and it seems to be the norm. The situation is bleak, and the atmosphere thrives on pain and hurt.
And they owe
What they've built
To our hearts
And the spears of pain we're using as stilts
The society and structures that have been built are based on our suffering and pain, and they have a duty to repay us for this.
We're looking 'round,
We'll never find
Perfect things
And all this squinting is leaving us blind
We are searching for perfection, but it is a futile task, and in the process, we are losing our ability to see and appreciate what is actually there.
Futile days,
Aging skin,
And we watch
As innocence is falling to sin
Time passes by without meaning, our skin is aging, and we can see innocence being corrupted and replaced by sin.
'Cause I've seen starts turn to ends,
And seen the weakening of men
And red wine hopes
Go up in smoke
I have witnessed the decline and fall of great things, the weakening of humanity, and the loss of hope, where nothing remains but a memory.
And young eyes under the moon
In midnight skies dark and blue
Torn to tears
And wasted years
Children and young adults are struggling in this world, their dreams and hopes tearing them apart while they waste away the best years of their lives.
So pass the bottle old friend,
We'll numb our hearts 'til the end
And raise a toast
To our sullen ghosts
We will drink and numb ourselves to reality until the end, and salute our fallen comrades and spirits who have given up the fight.
When the tears fall like leaves
The losing team still believes
"We've got a shot"
In this pointless plot
Even in the face of overwhelming odds, the defeated still hold onto hope that they can win, despite the fact that it's a pointless battle.
And the warmth
Of a human mouth,
It relates
To the number of tales it's spewed out
The comforting warmth of another person's breath and words is related to the stories they have shared and the experiences they have had.
Plus our bones
Are meant to break,
They reform,
The heart should follow suit for god's sake
Our bodies are designed to break and heal, but our hearts should learn to do the same, to mend and move on from heartbreak.
And our bones
Mend and break,
They reform,
The heart should follow suit for God's sake
Our ability to heal and recover should extend to our emotions and hearts, allowing us to move past pain and heartbreak.
You're a pure setting sun
And the white moonlight hung
In evergreens
And winter scenes
An individual is a beautiful, pure thing, like a setting sun, with the world around them adding to the beauty, like a white moon in a wintry forest.
And young eyes under that moon
In midnight skies dark and blue
Are torn to tears
And wasted years
Even the innocent and pure youthfulness are broken and shattered by the realities of the world, wasting their precious youth away in tears.
Contributed by Maya C. Suggest a correction in the comments below.