Ron Sexsmith is either incredibly consistent or maddeningly inflexible — perhaps both.

Over nine studio albums, he has danced with the girl that brung him, rarely straying from his signature McCartney-esque singer-songwriter blend of folk and pop. And by rarely, I mean never. If you listened to his albums at random, you’d have a hard time putting them in chronological order. Sure, his vocals have gotten stronger and his production a little more crisp, but only by the smallest degrees. His idea of a bold stylistic departure is hiring a horn section to back him up on a few tracks.

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