As the industrial sized meat-slicer rhythmically chopped turkey loaf into delicious slivers, I was faced with the daunting task of timing the machine perfectly with the bass drum pounding in my headphones. Sure, there are much more creative ways to pass time at work but this technique afforded me a guilt free way of listening to Reconstruction Site over and over again. The other albums I had purchased that month may have felt left out, but damn it, I had a job to do, and turkey could not be cut to any other soundtrack.
Each of the fourteen tracks on this beautifully crafted album bleeds a story of genuine honesty onto my clean white t-shirt. I must admit that John Sampson's vocals are an acquired taste, but much like $4.00 caffeinated beverage, his warmness mysteriously produces a wealth of energy. The album opens up with "Manifest", a chorus-free preface to that leads the listener to the gates the Reconstruction Site and invites them in. At this point I instinctively know to rotate the slicer dial to "7" because the next song "The Reason" is about to pick up the tempo. The next few tracks resonate tales of heartache, reconciliation, and even a reference to the legendary explorer, Sir Ernest P. Shackleton. At the center of Reconstruction Site, lives the albums best track "Times Arrow". A dark poem confronting the reality of having to look over your shoulder at things you've left behind.
At this point the slicer is switched to the neutral position and a break is taken as I remove my hair net and honor the turkey that has given up his life to support the obesity of the restaurants patrons. Suddenly a familiar beep sounds which signals "low battery" on my Discman. In an effort to complete the entire album I press play and am greeted by "Hotel Vespers", a doctor tale told by Sampson with a synthesized voice. This track serves as the albums outlier, but fits nicely thanks to the garnishing of multi-instrumentalist Stephan Carroll. As I begin to run out of cold cut chores I know that Reconstruction Site is quickly winding down, so I stall in order to hear the last great track on the album, "One Great City!" The ballad serves as an anthem to anyone who has ever fallen victim to the monotony of living in a small town. As the chorus belts out, "I hate Winnipeg", I triumphantly raise my latex glove covered hands and insert my hometown's name into the cry. My work is now complete; I sigh, turn off the slicer and remove my headphones. As I place the CD back in its case I acknowledge that Reconstruction Site holds a deep place in my heart. I also know that with each bite of turkey sandwich it finds its way into countless people everyday.
