[This Isn't Here] really is gorgeous. Split evenly between the country-ish acoustic glide of Rubber Soul and the electric power-pop template of Revolver, it's like some missing Beatles album made in between. Like that band, Celia crafts supremely sophisticated chord changes, guitar licks and three-part harmonies that still sound so natural, you don't even notice. It's sheer musical alchemy that pop songs as beautiful, complex and emotionally resonant as "Best Thing Ever" are so radio-ready they would sound ideal on MIX99.9 or CHUM-FM[Toronto's mainstream Radio stations]. Although his knack for glorious harmonies came naturally, with the guitar playing, he worked it until he could do it naturally. Celia can run rings around your average guitar hero, but instead displays the maturity and taste to serve the song with solos that are captivating models of economy and grace, as on "She's a Waterfall." The concerns in his songs are equally mature. Like how everything we see is an illusion, and everything we don't is what's real ("This Isn't Here"). How we might conquer fear and shut down disappointment in a world that constantly creates both ("Infinity"). How we deal with all it takes to maintain a long-term relationship, and can appreciate the process even in moments when we think our partners aren't worth the trouble ("Best Thing Ever"). Celia understands, and his words should encourage anyone who's ever been there. If, as Celia sings, "in a song you can find out where you belong," then many will find themselves in his. "I don't write a lot of songs," he says. "But when I do, it's pretty much done in that sitting. The songs come ready with their own directions. I always found writing lyrics the hardest. I figured it was an illusion, because why should they be so hard? So I just started turning on the tap and letting it run. 'Best Thing Ever' was, line for line, written about how I felt at the moment." -Howard Druckman. EYE WEEKLY, Toronto