The Next 500 #4: This Is The Ice Age

The Next 500 Greatest Albums of All Time

Martha and The Muffins, 1981

For the next instalment of The Next 500, I was inspired by Mark’s excellent deep dive into This Is The Ice Age on Musings of a Broken Record. He does an excellent job of going track by track, and I recommend you check his assessment.

This album is always at the top of my lists, but I thought perhaps I was part of a limited group within Gen X who knew about it, let alone enjoy it.

Perhaps I am overstating it. This album and band featured in a large number of childhood memories for me, and always seemed like something special. We had the vinyl. More specifically, my mom had the vinyl, and when we moved, and then I moved, I didn’t always find where the vinyl when to. It was not released on cd until 2005, which meant that for several years, all I had was the memory in my mind of these songs and this album. Fortunately, it was crystal clear.

From an early age I remember listening to this album as a family. My clearest memories are listening to it in the evening, after supper - darkness outside in the Ontario night, but not quiet: our Bose speakers would play this one at a volume and clarity that seemed exciting to me, like we were not supposed to listen to music this late at night (it was probably closer to 7pm). But I would be in another room or having a bath or something and this album would come on and we would all drift toward the living room. It became a bit of a tradition, every so often we would listen to this as a family. There were strange, ambient parts, but it’s the uptempo dance-rock parts I remember most, either “Women Around the World at Work” or “This is the Ice Age,” or halfway through “Casualties of Glass” when the rhythm section would kick in. I usually skipped the last song, “Three Hundred Years / Chemistry,” as taking too long to get to the “good” part, but I would make up for it later - it’s become one of my favourites.

I remember “You Sold the Cottage” as a novelty-adjcent song, very campy (pun-intended). Living in Northern Ontario, everyone knew what a “cottage” was, or a camp, or cabin at the lake. When listening to this song, I could also hear the mosquitos buzzing nearby and the lake splashing on the rocky shore; I could smell the pine trees and musty camp blankets; I could feel the wooden dock beneath my feet. Martha Johnson sang about those things, too, and later on I realized that it was a very Canadian song, to sing about the lake, to sing about a family trip that you begrudgingly accepted but were ultimately happy to experience. She sings “When we young, and the world was fun” they went to a cottage, and the “golden memories” came flooding back. She lists a litany of complaints about outdoor living, which, as you know, is part and parcel about living in Canada - we love the country, and the physical environment, but we will also complain about it. I also realized that perhaps Martha, being from Toronto, didn’t know about those things. When she sings “Being bitten by the chipmunk that lived underneath the boathouse,” she is either taking enormous liberties with memory or she’s doesn’t actually know what a chipmunk is. Either way, it fits the vibe of the song, and, musically, it’s a banger.

The other part that I distinctly remember is that it was my mom’s album. Our record collection was mainly my dad’s music, from reel to reels of Van Morrison to vinyl of every band I could think of. My mom enjoys music a lot, and would always listen to whatever came on the stereo. Sprinkled throughout the collection, however, were albums that were distinctly hers - Dark Side of the Moon, The Joshua Tree, This is the Ice Age. There were others, but these stand out. It was interesting to me at a young age to learn this about my mom. My dad had pictures of John Lennon up around the house, and we listened to music every chance we got, especially in the brown GMC Sierra driving anywhere. But my mom was selective, and she selected Martha and the Muffins. When I finally found this album on cd, it was like I was listening to it with her, as I had moved again and we were a few thousand kilometres apart.

For me, “Three Hundred Years / Chemistry” is the last song on this album. Later reissues would include two others, “I’m No Good at Conversation” and “Twenty-Two in Cincinnati” as the last two. They’re fine songs, and I presume they were left off the original vinyl due to space requirements, but to me “Three Hundred Years / Chemistry” is the perfect closer to the album. It combines the two halves of their music - ambient-ish art-rock and dance-rock - seamlessly, providing a “yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah” and a ripping guitar lick atop driving bass and drums and keys, before fading into eternity, repeating over and over. It’s one of Martha Johnson’s best vocal performances in this short clip, and, lyrically, they’re wonderfully ruminant:

It all begins with chemistry
Rules and ideas scattered everywhere
Where will we be tomorrow?
Do we even care?
Rules and ideas never stay the same
If we had the chance would we do it again?

I didn’t know about other M+M songs or albums until much later, and while “Echo Beach” sticks in my head, I am not really familiar with any other album or song. Part of it is not really wanting to know more than this album; part of it is knowing the strong feelings attached to this album, and knowing that nothing could really match it. This album is a Canadian new wave classic and, to me, is one of the greatest albums. But it’s deeply personal, and these brilliant songs and sounds that came together at the right time for this band also came at the right time for me.