Album Review: Warner Music Canada November 2005 Vol 513 by Various Artists
Released in November 2005 under Warner Music Canada, this compilation album captures a snapshot of the Canadian pop scene during a transformative time for music. With its eclectic mix of tracks, Vol 513 offers something for everyone—radio-friendly edits, heartfelt ballads, and even a clean version of Green Day’s iconic "Jesus Of Suburbia." It's not groundbreaking, but it's got charm.
One standout track is Rob Thomas’ "Ever The Same." The song has this warm, familiar feel to it, like an old sweater you can’t help but reach for when it gets cold outside. Its steady rhythm and emotional lyrics stick with you long after the last note fades. You don’t need to be a die-hard Rob Thomas fan to appreciate how smooth his voice glides over the melody—it just works. This one feels timeless, even years later.
Another gem is Daniel Powter’s "Free Loop." If you’ve ever had one of those days where everything seems chaotic, this tune hits different. There’s something about the piano intro that grabs your attention right away, followed by Powter’s raspy vocals delivering lines that are simple yet oddly comforting. Sure, it leans into the “pop formula,” but who cares? Sometimes predictable is exactly what you need.
Tracks like Madonna’s "Hung Up" bring a disco-infused energy, while Ronan Keating’s "Someone’s Arms (Radio Edit)" adds a touch of soft nostalgia. Even though some songs have aged better than others, the variety keeps things interesting. Plus, the inclusion of Glen Ballard’s remix of "Crazy" gives listeners a fresh take on an already solid track.
What strikes me most about this album isn’t necessarily its innovation or cohesion as a project. Instead, it’s the way these tracks serve as a cultural timestamp. Listening to Vol 513, you get a sense of what people were vibing to back then—how they danced, commuted, or maybe cried along to their car stereos.
If anything, reviewing this album reminds me how much music reflects life. And honestly? I kinda miss CDs. Remember popping one into the player and reading the liner notes while the first track started playing? Feels almost quaint now. Guess that’s why albums like this still matter—they’re little capsules of memory wrapped up in sound.
