True Mountain Laurel is what happens when two women are fabulous and talented. Those comprising this new West Coast Canadian supergroup are Haley Blais and Sam Lynch. Blais, known for her Polaris Prize long-listed album Wisecrack, is a sharp lyricist whose wit and wisdom greets you at the top of every song. Known for her most recent project Outline, Lynch, meanwhile, is the kind artist who brings herself in her highest, most sensitive form to everything she touches. True Mountain Laurel is their natural union: two musical forces coming together, possessing the sheer genuine audacity to merge their abilities and share their now-mythologized friendship with us. Angel So Bad's title track is like lightning in a bottle; out of nowhere, it suddenly exists, and feels like it has forever. Its texture squeezes tears out of your eyes. In fact, the whole album is rich with harmonies that feel like the comforting sound of TV static, mixed in such a way that it tickles a place in your brain that lays dormant. The line, "Bitches contain multitudes," foreshadows a collection of music wrought with diametrically opposed ideas, embodying each and every one of the singer-songwriters' pluralities. Tracks like "Bird of Prey," "East of Anything" and "Sunny" provide a specificity that makes the listener want to know everything about the events and thought processes that led to their genesis. It's special to hear insecurity considered from the point of view two friends actively chatting. In taking the time to be honest with each other, Lynch and Blais sets us free. We have no choice but to soar with their melodies. "I Love You, Nicole" in particular makes it feels like these songs are lifted from the dogeared pages of a shared journal. We are of each other, our friends are a part of us and we are a part of them. Putting friendship to song has a glimmering thread of innocence to it that we rarely get to see, capturing the true romance inside traditionally un-romanticized relationships. Angel So Bad wraps with "The Trial," which contextualizes the record's wisdom. It's been given to us soft and gentle, spoken at times with meme-like proficiency that dumb bitches like myself understand better than being told directly. By the time the last guitar fades out, we are thoroughly mothered by Blais and Lynch's shared experience. Canadian music is unbelievably lucky to have this duo, this album and these stories, which serve as definitive proof that Vancouver remains a hotbed for unique, special music. True Mountain Laurel make a strong case that we just need to get our friends together and do some vivacious yapping, set it to a dusty, forlornly hopeful folk tune and rise, together. Angel So Bad leaves me desperately wanting more. Only these two witches know exactly how this all ends — and hopefully they'll choose to continue sharing their musical spells with us.