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ARTICLES
- Willy Porter
Joel Kroeker
WILLY PORTER All too often, when performers are blessed with great skill and dexterity on an instrument, they become obsessed with showing off their skill, and forget to make music that is easy on the ear; it seems that often the foremost virtuosos are among the most difficult to listen to. But such is not the case with guitar virtuoso/songwriter/singer, Willy Porter. His songs are absolutely listenable, easy to understand and relate to, yet they still display his amazing gift with the guitar. Porter came from a musical family, his father was a pianist, and he was taught the viola early on, and he would have loved to play his favourite instrument, the cello, but, he says, “when I was young I just didn’t want to carry the thing around.” But when, in college, Porter first heard Leo Kottke, Porter picked up a guitar and has never looked back. A bit of formal classical training and a lot of practice was all it took to send him off on the path to greatness. His playing has been compared to Kottke and Michael Hedges, but what sets him apart from those great players is his singing and songwriting. Although he’s most confident and proud of his guitar playing, Porter says, “I feel like I’ve written some good songs, but it doesn’t come as easily as the guitar does. And singing, I love to sing, but I was playing the guitar for over 10 years before I ever tried to sing a song.” Funny, because his earliest attention came on the strength of his songs, which caught the attention of major labels and big name producers. Porter says, “The producers I was working with early on, like Neil Dorfsman [producer/engineer for Kiss, Springsteen, Bob Marley, McCartney, and many others] told me, ‘you have some nice tunes here, but in order for them to reach a broader audience, they need more support here and broader instrumentation,’ so we tried to flesh them out that way. I think it was a good choice at the time.” It must have been, because he had a respectable radio hit with “Angry Words” and a few major label albums, and tours opening for the likes of Paul Simon, Tori Amos, The Cranberries, and others. Eventually, the grind of the major label machine got to him, and Porter became disillusioned. He scaled back his recording and touring, and focussed on having a life and starting a family. He has young children now, ages 2 and 4, and they’ve led to a major change in priorities. Porter says, “[Having kids] changes things in that you have to be more organized, for one. But also it’s a really healthy thing, because I would push, push, push and tour as much as I could, especially when records came out to try and get them to as many people as I could and get the best gigs as I could, but now I’m realizing that career isn’t everything, and the kids are really wonderful for that.” As part of his shift in priorities, Porter signed with a much smaller record label, Six Degrees Records. “I went from wanting the brass ring, to being happy to be in the ring,” Porter explains, “I recognize that there’s such a tradeoff. In having a larger label, you’re giving up a lot of your own identity for the sake of the brand, in a way. A lot of creative decisions become group decisions instead of artists being left to their own devices. In a way I chose the road less travelled. I went to a smaller label where they give you full creative control and they believe in you. The budgets aren't huge to make records, but they're really supportive and really organized, and I'm grateful to be where I am.” Now, Porter focuses on what is important to him, and what makes him happy. This includes his family, of course, and performing live. Whereas his studio albums came fairly quickly, 4 albums between 1995 and 2002, there hasn’t been one since. In 2003, Porter released his first live album, High Wire Live, which contains many of the songs from his first 4 albums, but in decidedly different form. Porter says, “That’s getting back to how the tunes were written. It was exciting for me, because invariably I’d make these band records and then I couldn’t afford a band, so I’d go up by myself and people would say, ‘I love the records but it doesn’t sound like you do live,’ so that was the impetus for that.” Porter is one of those artists that encourage fans to tape his shows and share them with others. Instead of being afraid of people giving away his music for free, Porter has embraced it. “I believe that once the music leaves my hands and my mouth, it's not really mine anymore. It's really fun for people who are there to record the show and be able to share that moment that they had that maybe was powerful for them. Also I think that it has a really nice ripple effect. It gets to people that normally might not have heard it otherwise, and maybe those people come out to a show and maybe buy a CD or a t-shirt or something. There really is no lost income in that. That sort of fearful response from the record companies is malarkey.” Even though he’s gained respect and acclaim, and accomplished so much, Porter’s goals for the future are simple. He says, “I think as I go on down the road here in this musical life, what I want to do here is write better songs. I don’t care so much about whether the guitar is really flashy or whether it rocks or doesn’t. I want to communicate.”
THE LOWEST OF THE LOW There’s an old story that goes something like this: Young guys form a band. Band is good. Band writes great songs and puts on great live shows. Band puts out a good CD. People like the band. Band tours lots and makes fans across the country. With success, record companies come a calling. Band members let success go to their heads a bit, and are plagued by problems with drugs and alcohol. Relationships, music, and shows start to suffer. Band breaks up, never realizing its full potential. For most bands, the story ends there. There are always some who wish that things could have been different for the band, and wish that they could give it another shot. In the end, for most bands, all that remains is the memories. But for Toronto rock band The Lowest of the Low, that’s only part of the story. The band’s debut CD, Shakespeare My Butt (SMB), was released in 1991. At the time, indie music was hot, with Nirvana and Barenaked Ladies proving that you didn’t need a record label to get noticed. While both of those bands eventually signed to major labels and became huge superstars, The Low were mistrustful of the industry, and adamant that they remain independent. Their strategy was simple: work hard, tour lots, write great songs, and put on great shows. SMB was not a smash hit, but selling 10,000 copies of an independent album is a pretty big deal. The band quickly gained a rabid following, and was even able to get major airplay on commercial rock stations. As the band’s lead singer, primary songwriter, and guitarist Ron Hawkins says, “we stepped through a door in 1991 that was open for a brief period of time and we were sort of lucky. We worked really hard and we had some really good stuff to say, I think, but we also happened to be born at the right time because we got in that door and independent music has just exploded in terms of you could make your own CDs and sell them from the stage.” But it was more than just happenstance that made this band. SMB contains a magical combination of unforgettable melodies, amazing energy and conviction, and some very clever, well-read lyrics. Its praises are continually sung by other musicians, songwriters, fans, and this Stylus contributor. Chart Magazine recently listed it as the #7 Canadian album of all time. In that magazine, John K Samson, of The Weakerthans, describes the album perfectly; “Musically, it is direct and smart. Lyrically, it is everything I ever hoped for - resolutely leftist without drifting into rhetoric, and profoundly emotional without any of the cloying sentimentality that first-person pop songs are always prone to. It is a work brimming with specifics of place and time, politics and love, self-doubt and determination.” Although SMB got the band plenty of fans and critical and industry attention, by the time of the follow-up, 1993’s Hallucigenia, things had started to deteriorate. Addictions, egos, and infighting led to the band’s demise in the middle of a tour, soon after the album’s release. The band’s other songwriter/singer/lead guitarist, Stephen Stanley says, “our shows back then were out of control, high-octane and our playing wasn’t anywhere near what it is now.” Hawkins went on to form The Rusty Nails and worked hard to put The Lowest of the Low behind him. The rest of the band stepped away from music altogether. But in the years that followed, a curious phenomenon occurred. The band’s popularity did not wane, it only grew. As the band’s albums were promoted by word of mouth, the band’s legend grew, to the point where there was pressure on the band members to consider regrouping. At the urging of a Toronto concert promoter promising big cash and a chance to put the past behind them, the band members began to discuss a reunion. In November of 2000, the band did a series of 6 reunion shows, recorded for a live CD, 2001’s Nothing Short of a Bullet. “When we came back and did the reunions, I think the original thing that struck us all was that the audience was really young. We expected to see the old faces, but we thought ‘wow, who are these people’,” Stanley recalls, “people had told me over the years that it had really grown and that the record had been passed down from older brothers to younger brothers and sisters and stuff.” When those six shows sold out quickly, and there was demand for the live disc and a tour, the band members knew that it was time to give it another try. Stanley is quick to point out the dangers of such a reunion, “there is definitely a perception that bands doing this sort of thing are doing it for the money and some bands are, but at this level, no, we’re not doing it for the money.” “The reunion shows with the Low, that was all about coming home and healing old wounds and getting together with my brothers again,” Hawkins says, “but then when that was done we had a choice of just going on and playing our old hits constantly, or moving forward. We were adamant about the idea that none of us have any interest in being a reunion band.” As old wounds healed and the magical musical chemistry returned, the band began to work on new material. Any uncertainty about the band’s future was put to rest in 2004, with the release of Sordid Fiction, an album that perfectly combines the magical melodies and lyrics found on the band’s first two records with a modern, mature outlook. It is far from a swan song. It is a reiteration that the Lowest of the Low is still relevant, rockin’, and ready to make it work this time. “We’ve actually been together longer this time then we were the first time,” Hawkins says, “here we are coming back to do basically what we did in 1993-1994, and you can catch us at our height, because I think we’re a much better band than we were in 1994.”
MARTYN JOSEPH On the surface, Welsh singer/songwriter Martyn Joseph could be mistaken for just another guy with some decent songs and some things to say. Over a 20 year career, he’s managed to build up a sizeable audience and attract some glowing praise and adulation. He’s also become a wonderful songwriter, but let’s be honest, the world is full of wonderful songwriters. I’ve known that Martyn Joseph was a little bit different from the rest from the first time I saw him live, at The Winnipeg Folk Festival in 2002, playing to a few dozen people at a makeshift stage in front of the CD tent. He gave it his all, despite a modest and uncooperative sound system and a tiny tent that did nothing to protect him from the hot July sun. Whether in humble surroundings such as that, or soon after, playing to an adoring audience at The West End Cultural Centre, he’s never failed to put on the kind of show that stands out from the rest. He has a passion and an honesty that’s rare, but this is not unheard of and could describe dozens of performers. But in July of 2004, I saw something that proved to me that Joseph was unlike any other that I’d ever seen. It was at the Calgary Folk Festival, and Joseph was playing at the Sunday morning gospel workshop alongside more traditional gospel fare. I’m not entirely sure why he was on that bill. Joseph’s latest CD, Whoever It Was that Brought Me Here Will Have to Take Me Home, would likely never be called gospel music, but spirituality and a higher power are obviously parts of his life. After the other performers had done typical gospel material, Joseph got up and did something that was quite unexpected. He explains, “I had a bit of a go at Pat Robertson, who has said that it didn’t matter what George Bush did, it was right, because he is a man of God. It doesn’t seem to matter what people do if they happen to carry the God card, because they can get away with all sorts of behaviour, which runs so against orthodox theology, and therefore, I find it incredibly offensive. I really hate when people hide behind that and use it as a badge to go out there and do things. People win elections based on things like that because no matter what you do, you’re a man of God, so you’re our man.” His bold, unapologetic honesty amazed me probably as much as it offended some others. Some of the other performers were clearly shocked, and I found them to be rather rude to Joseph thereafter. I kept thinking that he had to know that his bold statements weren’t what was expected of him on a quiet Sunday morning at a workshop called “Lord Have Mercy.” But he was so right and gave me so much to think about that I had to commend his bravery. But Joseph sees it another way. He says, “That’s not bravery. It’s just what I do. You know what, if I were to stand and do anything else, that would be me being brave, to sort of play the game and sing the sweet songs. The songs I write, you can’t just go out there and be nice and sweet, you have to live them. I don’t know any other way of doing it.” Joseph’s music isn’t for those looking for something that is easy and safe, although because he doesn’t preach or talk down to anyone, he is accessible to all, regardless of whether they take the time to understand his messages. It’s the kind of music that can’t help but make the listener think and feel. Although in the past he’s been marketed as a pop star in the UK, Joseph has little concern for reaching the top of the pops or appealing to the masses. He says, “music is somehow the connection between folk, and I feel the responsibility of that. I’m really not that interested in grabbing a group of people together and just entertaining them for the evening. I hope that’s a by-product of what does take place, but as such, my motives are always to try and make people think or to make people do something with the music. That’s the way I’ve chosen, I suppose, and I think that perhaps it might have been easier on myself if I’d chosen a different way, but you have to be true to yourself.” In being true to himself, Joseph goes out and gives his audience a glimpse into his heart and soul each night. It must be frightening to be so honest and revealing, but Joseph does it not because it’ll make him rich and famous, but because he has to. He learned this from the masters of American folk music like Woody Guthrie, Dylan and Springsteen, people, he says, “that had a tradition of saying stuff in music that came along and told folk that they weren’t alone. I really think that’s the job of it all, really, at its best. Those things articulate for us the deepest things that we feel. I am aware that on the small scale that I work at that this actually happens, and it’s incredibly rewarding. I see that when I get the email back or the letter back or whatever; that’s the gold disc on the wall. Those are the things that are important to me and show that I’m doing something that has a little worth in the world and isn’t just about selling records.” And he’ll keep doing it in a way that is brutally honest and reveals truths about ourselves and the world that we don’t always want to hear, but that we probably need to.
FRED EAGLESMITH Somewhere tonight Fred Eaglesmith is probably doing a show. It really doesn’t matter when you read this, because it’s almost every night that Fred is on stage somewhere. It might be in a nice theatre in front of hundreds of polite concertgoers, it might be in a noisy bar with people dancing and laughing, or it might be in a barn or on a flatbed truck, or in a community rec centre in some out of the way locale. It really doesn’t matter, because Eaglesmith and his name changing backing band (they’re usually known these days as The Flying Squirrels, but may be billed as The Flathead Noodlers, The Smokin’ Losers, or a variety of other names) will play almost anywhere, any time. While most musicians work toward playing bigger shows in major centres all the time, Eaglesmith isn’t like most musicians. He says, “I do it by choice. I would much rather do that. If I could just do 20 dates in Manitoba going from little town to little town, I’d sort of have a dream come true. Same with Saskatchewan. If I could just do that, I’d totally be happy. “I like the city shows, don’t get me wrong, but the city shows are just a totally different vibe. The people are more used to bands coming; they’re more jaded, there’s hip scenes; you know; but when you go to a little town, they’re just glad to see you and you’re just glad to see them. There’s no kidding each other, it’s just what a concert should be. It’s just you putting on a show for people who don’t just want to be seen there so they’re cool, they really want to come and see a show.” With little to no radio or video airplay or mainstream media attention, Eaglesmith has carved out quite a career for himself. Eaglesmith has the kind of devoted audience that most artists can only dream of. His online community of “Fredheads” is passionate, vocal, and very protective of “their” artist. Folks on the email list plan their vacations around Eaglesmith weekends, tours, and cruise ship gigs. And they love to buy his merchandise. Eaglesmith is a master salesman, stocking anything and everything he can sign his name to, including dozens of different shirts, hats, posters, and even novelty items like Eaglesmith tire gauges, Frisbees, and train whistles. And so it is that Eaglesmith certainly isn’t suffering anymore. Although the once simple farmer almost lost everything when farming began to suffer, he turned to music to pay the bills, and has never looked back. His career has been fiercely independent almost since the beginning; he only signs with labels or publishing companies or booking agents when it suits him, and often, it doesn’t. These days, he owns his own record label, A Major Label, which has begun to put out albums by artists that Fred knows and likes, including Winnipeg’s own D. Rangers. Eaglesmith himself has put out an astonishing 14 albums, ten of those since 1992. Usually, he’ll take a week at home to record, and then leave producer Scott Merritt to finish things off. Eaglesmith explains, “I don’t have time to make records. I’m too busy on the road, and quite frankly, I hate making them. I hate being in the studio and listening to every note. I’m not a perfectionist; I’m a get-it-done guy. I have always just put it in Scott’s hands.” The first few records were fairly simple, acoustic affairs, filled with songs, not surprisingly, about farming and rural life. In the 90s, he went more electric, and did some rockin’ records. In 2002, he did a straight-ahead bluegrass record. Each new turn has caused some fans to question the direction, but somehow, they always seem to stay along for the ride. Eaglesmith says, “I made a record in 1980 and everybody liked it and it was even on the radio, and then I made a record in 1985 called The Boy That Went Wrong that nobody liked, and then I made a record called Indiana Road, and people liked that one, but they didn’t like the next one, Things Is Changin’. It just went back and forth and then I find down the road people are saying that they really liked those records. I remember the Things Is Changin’ record; everybody gave me so much trouble about it, and now, it’s one of the staples of my catalogue. “It’s not me that’s changing. I have no plans; I’m just doing what I’ve always done. I’m an artist and these are the pictures I paint. You might not like all the pictures, but when you put them in the gallery, you’ll see why the pictures go together. That’s what I should do as an artist. That’s what I’ve been doing all my life. I don’t really find it weird for me to be doing that; it shocks people, though.” Perhaps the biggest shock of all was last year’s Dusty. Gone were the guitars, and his long-time backing band. Instead, it’s basically just Eaglesmith on uncharacteristically laid back, soulful vocals, and something called a Funmaker organ, with Scott Merritt adding a variety of instruments, including a string section. “I wanted to make a record that would sound like sort of a pre-Beatles record. Like what would happen if they weren’t around; what kind of records would we make. I’m just so sick of the obligatory big guitar on everything you hear, even though it’s in my live band,” says Eaglesmith. While it seems natural for him, many of his fans have again been shocked, he says, “It’s not that much of a departure for me, it’s a departure for my fans. I’ve always thought of this production; I’ve always listened to Roy Orbison and that stuff. Some of my older fans who have been with me for a long time are having a harder time with it, but it’s really funny how people who haven’t heard me before or never really liked me before are really liking this record. That’s the way it should be.” Regardless of whether anyone likes the albums, the live show will always be where it’s at, and Eaglesmith and his powerful band continue to put on legendary shows night after night after night.
BLAIR PACKHAM In 1987, it seemed as if you couldn’t turn on the radio in Canada without hearing Toronto band The Jitters. Their single “Last of the Red Hot Fools” is the kind of perfectly catchy, but slightly silly pop song that was all the rage in the 80s. The band also scored big with “Closer Every Day,” and had modest success with several other singles off of their self-titled debut, and its follow-up, 1990’s Louder than Words. But pop music is a fickle game, and catchy melodies aren’t rare. The Jitters made good music and put on great live shows, but like so many others, they disappeared. But when the spotlight fades and the industry attention moves on to the next band with a batch of good songs, pop stars don’t die, they just keep on making music, albeit with slightly less public notice. Such is the case with Jitters leader Blair Packham, who took some time off after The Jitters’ demise to re-evaluate, produce and work with other artists, and settle down. He married a musician, singer/songwriter Arlene Bishop, and worked on her music more than his own. In 2000, he finally re-emerged with his solo debut Everything That’s Good. It contains the same infectious melodies, touching ballads, and clever lyrics that he’d perfected with The Jitters, but it also broadened the sonic palette with some modern beats (“NV”) and a superb soul song (“Crying a River for You.”) Some time after that record’s release, Packham slipped below the radar once more. Sure, he had world-wide success with a television theme song, but it’s one that folks over the age of 12 would likely never hear, the theme song to the kids’ cartoon Beyblades. His album did well and got some great reviews, but somewhere along the line, the once confident songwriter developed a crushing case of writer’s block, and the great songs stopped coming out of him. It was cured in a most unfortunate way, however. Often great art is born out of the most terrible pain, as Packham found while struggling with the loss of his father. He explains, “That put me in a real tail spin. My son was just two years old, and I’m an older dad, so I was having a bit of a mid-life crisis at the same time. It was like everything was conspiring against me. Obviously my dad got the worst of it because he passed away, but here I was left behind, wondering what I was doing, and wondering if I should really still be making music and so forth. It really put me in a bad place. “There were two things that helped me get out of it; one was anti-depressants, and the other was that I made a pact with myself that I was going to make another record. My first record paid for itself by having a song, literally one song, placed on the show Dawson’s Creek. Then I thought that if it paid for itself, and more than broke even, which is exceeding the Canadian dream, maybe I’d make another record. “With that in mind, and feeling all messed up mentally, I called my friend Craig Northey in Vancouver and asked him if he’d like to make a record with me. I booked the musicians, and I booked the recording dates, and I thought to myself, ‘now what am I going to do?’ I had to write some songs. I always scoffed at the idea that good art comes out of adversity, but I don’t know, these are some of my best songs ever, and they came out of feeling really crappy.” That album, 2004’s Could’ve Been King, is his most thoughtful, introspective, and mature work to date. It’s filled with reflection and genuine emotions that could only come from the heart. It’s the document of a man who’s reaching middle age and looking back on what he’s done, and perhaps what he could have done differently. Packham says, “That’s where the title Could’ve Been King came from. It’s occurred to me a few times over the years that if certain circumstances in my life had been different in certain specific ways, maybe The Jitters would have been The Barenaked Ladies, or that sort of thing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not taking anything away from them, and I’m not trying to be one of those guys who says ‘I could have been one of those guys,’ but maybe I could have been one of those guys. It’s really hard to tell. All I know is that we were a pop band, and we were popular, and we were funny, and maybe the timing just wasn’t right.” It’s funny, but now that he’s making the most interesting and intelligent music of his career, and it’s melodic and powerful and everything that one should look for in good music, to the populace that remembers him, it’s likely for songs he recorded 15 years ago. But success isn’t necessarily about being on the radio and television, says Packham; “Before, I was doing it because my aspiration was to become a rock star. This was in my 20s, and to some measure, I achieved that, to a pretty small measure, but more than most people. I’m pleased with that, but at 45 years old, I’m not expecting that I’ll be a rock star. I do have to do it. I do feel like it’s a compulsion or a need to express myself. I really feel that now, the reason I write songs is as real self-expression. Before, I might write a pop tune about some woman chasing some guy and this is what happened to them. Now, I have something to say.”
By Jeff Robson
published in Stylus Magazine Dec/Jan 2004
Of this year’s crop of new discoveries, one of the most surprising is Toronto singer/songwriter Reid Jamieson. His CD The Unavoidable Truth spent an inordinate time on my CD player this year, and several of the songs on it spent an inordinate amount of time stuck in my head. Jamieson has that rare gift of being able to craft an absolutely infectious pop melody with an intelligent lyric. Best of all, there’s nothing flashy, nothing pretentious, and nothing arrogant about him. He’s just a decent guy singing decent songs and loving it. The songs don’t speak down to anyone, but they seem to speak for almost everyone. It’s just a damn good record.
Jamieson grew up in the suburbs of Toronto, and discovered pop music as a teen. Once he found music, there was no turning back. He explains, “I didn’t get to make a lot of high school happen, I was at home playing music. That was sort of inspired by The Beatles and Crowded House. It was around 1986 or so when I first started playing around with music and couldn’t stop.” In his early 20s, Jamieson moved to Toronto to pursue music more seriously, forming a pop-rock band called Alvy, which Jamieson says, “made absolutely no impression on Toronto whatsoever.” It was more a learning experience than anything for Jamieson, who honed his skills and finally realized that he’d have to go it on his own to do things his way and achieve success.
In 2000, Jamieson released his first solo CD, Cowlick Bravado. It was followed up in 2003 by an EP of intimate solo recordings called That Noise in my Chest. Raised on classic country songs, he gained a respect for traditional roots music. That influence is very evident on the songs found on The Unavoidable Truth. Still the memorable melodies and Jamieson’s powerful, expressive voice are at the forefront, but backing him are some of Toronto’s finest musicians on primarily acoustic instruments.
Joining Jamieson on this record are Winnipeg’s Michael Johnston on piano, former Rheostatics drummer Dave Clark, Blue Rodeo’s pedal steel guru Bob Egan, vocalists John Southworth and Mia Sheard, and many others. The album was produced and played on by Josh Finlayson of The Skydiggers, and it features a duet with Sarah Harmer. Even Jamieson is amazed by the line-up he managed to assemble. “I remember right as we were finishing and adding some background vocals before adding the guests, I thought to myself, ‘if all of the people I’m asking end up playing on this, I’m going to have to pinch myself, it’s going to be so exciting,’” Jamieson explains, “they’re just great people and we know each other from playing music in Toronto. I just asked them if they wanted to be a part of it and everybody said yes. I was overjoyed. Not only did I walk away with a wonderful record with these people on it, but I had amazing experiences recording it.”
While many artists hit the road and tour incessantly to promote their albums, Jamieson has taken a very low-key approach, staying close to home. It was only in November of this year that he played his first show outside of Southern Ontario, an appearance at The Halifax Pop Explosion festival. The game plan has been to let the CD do the talking. “Travelling around Canada, there’s a long distance between cities,” he explains, “it seems like such a daunting thing to build a fan base by going to a town and playing to five people and then going to the next town. It costs a lot to do that. Instead of spending the money to do that right now, we’re spending the money sending out the record to people in the United States and the U.K. and trying to get them excited about the record, so that they’ll do something with it and we’ll go from there.”
Reviews of the album have been universally encouraging. It’s gotten rave reviews from publications in The U.K., Texas, Nashville, and on websites like ChartAttack and Umbrella Music. The disc, at 33 minutes, leaves you wanting more. But this isn’t a problem, explains Jamieson, “It’s on the shorter side, but I think that it’s good to leave someone wanting to listen to it again as opposed to saying ‘that was good,’ and putting it away and thinking that they’ll listen to it again some time. If you really felt like it gave you something and you really enjoyed it and you feel like it ends too quickly, it makes you want to come back sooner.
“I have a feeling that the next record will be much longer because I have a ton more songs and I’m going to have a harder time deciding what not to include. They’re a stronger batch of songs. They’re not all finished, but even in their infancy, I’m excited about them.
“[A new album is] on the horizon. I’m going to take my time writing it and make sure that I’m happy with all aspects of the songs and playing them by myself and that they’re not missing anything. But realistically, I still want to promote this record and get out and play and see what can happen.”
The financial reality of being an independent singer/songwriter means that most often, Jamieson has to perform by himself with his acoustic guitar. “Before recording this record, I really wanted to make sure that these were songs that when I sat down to play them by myself, it didn’t feel like it was missing a trumpet part or you weren’t thinking that needs more oomph or something there,” Jamieson says, “For me, the ultimate is if I can play a show and just be by myself and just be every bit as entertaining as with a band and people in the audience don’t feel as if they’re missing anything.”
Jamieson makes his second trip outside of The Centre of the Universe, bringing his solo show to Winnipeg for a string of shows December 2-5. Details are up at his website, www.reidjamieson.com.
Leeroy Stagger At the ripe old age of only 21, Victoria, BC singer/songwriter Leeroy Stagger has a firm toehold on a very promising musical career. His debut CD, Dear Love, has met with impressive critical reviews and his energetic live shows are the stuff that legends are made of. He’s already shared stages with Modest Mouse, Kathleen Edwards, and he was even the lucky act chosen to open for The Pixies for the Victoria date on their reunion tour. In June of this year, he played to a packed house at Toronto’s North By Northeast Festival, earning him top marks in Chart Magazine. He’s also toured the country working behind the scenes for his friends and roommates, Hot Hot Heat. Stagger’s sound is an interesting mix of alt.country and punk rock influences. At the age of 16, he was fronting a wild and crazy punk band called The Staggers. Over the course of a few years, that band built up a rabid local following for its over-the-top live show, largely because of the singer’s riveting, unconventional stage presence. But after a few years of in-your-face, exuberant punk rock, Stagger was yearning for something slightly more serious. He explains, “I was on tour with Hot Hot Heat, about 3 years ago. I knew what I wanted to do. I was listening to a lot of Ryan Adams and Whiskeytown at the time, and I knew that was the kind of music that I wanted to play, so I kind of just got back from tour and taught myself how to play guitar.” He set out to do things his way and write songs that meant something to him. Stagger was quickly thrust into the spotlight by another high profile Victoria resident, Carolyn Mark. Stagger recalls, “she stuck a guitar in my hand one night at a hootenanny. I’d never played in front of anybody before and it was the most nerve-wracking thing I’d ever done. I’m sure if you asked Carolyn she’d tell you how it went. It was pretty embarrassing. I was pretty shy and out of key, but it was awesome and I’m so glad that she did that because it got me to where I am today.” Shortly after, he holed up in Mark’s basement to record his solo debut, with her guitar player, Tolan McNeil, acting as producer. The CD shows a lot of promise, and its rough around the edges aesthetic lends itself nicely to the songs. They’re an interesting lot, also. Lyrically, the album is strong, though it centres on many of the typical new songwriter topics of angst, anger, and love gone wrong. But it’s Stagger’s vocals that bring the project to life. He can snarl and sneer, as evidenced on “Worn Out Welcome Home,” and “Broke and Broken Hearted.” At times, you’d be tempted to rename him Leeroy Swagger, because the young singer is so full of youthful energy. But he can also bring it down, as on the country song, “In Lost with You.” One of the album’s strongest tracks is a simple piano and vocals groove, “Slowly Sinking,” which features members of Hot Hot Heat. After an initial independent release, the album was picked up this year by Victoria indie label Magic Teeth Records for a re-release. For it, Stagger included 5 new numbers, and they prove that his writing and performing are growing by leaps and bounds. “Paint a Picture” is an all out rocker with Neil Young-esque guitar solos abounding. “Hide the Knives” is a haunting, simmering song. But just as Dear Love is seeing its national release, Stagger is putting the finishing touches on its follow up, which was recorded this summer. “It’s kind of weird how I’m just finishing up a new record when [Dear Love]’s just coming out, but it’s already two years old for me,” Stagger says. The follow up, Beautiful House, will be released in the next few months on Magic Teeth Records. It was produced by rising star Danny Michel. “I met Danny about two years ago. I saw him open for Lindy in Victoria and I fell in love with his tunes right then. I had met him when he came through with Kathleen Edwards, when she was opening for him,” explains Stagger, “Me and Danny kind of bonded and kept in touch over email.” At a subsequent Michel show, on a whim, Stagger suggested that he and Michel work together on Stagger’s next album, and as Stagger says, “he was like ‘Well, yeah, why not?’ It’s cool like that, how you kind of look up to people and then become friends with them and then all of a sudden I’m working with somebody that I look up to a lot.” You can already sample the new album, as the first single, “Just in Case,” is up at Stagger’s website, and a video for it is currently airing on Much Music. The sound has shifted somewhat away from the punk rock and closer to Michel’s textured pop/rock sound. Stagger says, “It’s very different. It sound a lot better, obviously, because we spent a lot more time on it. There’s a lot of Danny on it, which is cool. It’s got that Danny Michel sound. With the songwriting, I’m a lot more proud. It makes a lot more sense. It’s a little more diverse. It kind of reminds me of Ron Sexsmith’s Blue Boy, mixed with maybe some newer Ryan Adams, the more rockin’ stuff.” Upon the album’s release, Stagger hopes to quickly begin touring nationwide in support of the album. At each stop, new people will be exposed to this exciting young talent, and I’d bet that it won’t be very long before Leeroy Stagger gains the notoriety of Michel, Hot Hot Heat, or even his hero, Ryan Adams. The sky’s the limit for someone with Stagger’s talent and determination.
James Keelaghan In the world of the folky singer/songwriter, there are a few hallmarks that distinguish the greats. Some are great poets, some can turn a great phrase, some write touching love songs, and of course there are those that write great political and social protest songs. But perhaps the greatest attribute that a great folk songwriter can look for is the ability to tell a good story. It seems like the true greats can tell a story that touches and moves people, and few can do that with such success as Winnipeg resident James Keelaghan. Now, Keelaghan’s no slouch with the poetic, the political, or the romantic as well, but it’s his stirring stories that have become his calling card. Most of them are true stories, taken from the pages of a book, roadside historical markers, or even just a clever turn of phrase that comes up in conversation. Those stories, Keelaghan says, “come from everywhere. I think the world is laden with inspiration; it’s just a matter of you trying to focus in on what it is that’s going to inspire you. You never know where that’s going to come from, quite frankly.” Even in the most fantastic and disastrous stories, Keelaghan is able to find universal themes that strike a chord with listeners. There’s a real message of hope and perseverance in even the harshest of circumstances, even those who haven’t lived through such circumstances can learn and be touched by them. Keelaghan says, “I’m trying to tell a story that’s going to move people. I’m trying to tell a story that people can relate to. I have to figure out what the words are that are going to move people.” Obviously, he’s done his job well up to now. He’s got a devoted fanbase and regularly appears on the mainstages of festivals, not just in his native Canada, but in the U.S., Europe, and Australia. He’s also got the respect and admiration of his fellow musicians, and can even impress fickle music critics. For two years in a row now, he has taken top prize in the Folk category of the USA Songwriting Competition, one of North America’s pre-eminent songwriting awards. One would assume that such a renowned songwriter would come by his talent naturally, and with 8 albums and 17 years of writing behind him, he’d be able to write great songs in his sleep. But for Keelaghan, it seems like the thing that he is usually lauded for is not so easy. “I wouldn’t say that I’m a natural songwriter. I have to really sort of work at it. And so I still sometimes don’t consider myself a songwriter. I consider it to be a craft that I’m constantly learning,” he says, “I just always struggle with the songwriting thing. I don’t think that’s ever going to change and I don’t think I ever want it to change, just because I don’t want to ever feel blasé about what I do. I always feel like I can make it better somehow. So I think that if you are content, if you feel like you know everything there is to know about the craft, then I think you’re going to write horrible songs. I just want it to always be evolving. I just always want to feel like there is something I can do better and keep working on that.” And it seems that he’s always working, not just on new material, but on refining the older songs as well. Even songs that have been recorded are open to new interpretations and changes as time passes. The songs, he says, “just naturally change, in and of themselves. You just sing something differently one night and you kind of go, ‘hey, that’s kind of a neat way to sing that,’ or you find that some words you wrote were wrong and you want to change that, or you hear somebody else’s version of the tune and it inspires you to change the way that you’re doing it. I think songs change and grow. I don’t think they’re static.” This year, he released a new album that highlights some of those changes. The CD, Then Again, is a collection of songs culled from his back catalogue. But this is more than just a “best of” record, instead, he calls it a “better than ever,” as it contains all new recordings of some songs that have changed, or some that he has since envisioned changing. Keelaghan explains, “I’ve been getting requests for live albums and things, but I’m not really a fan of the live album. I felt like I wanted to do a best of CD, but I didn’t just want to lift ten tracks from the other CDs and put them on a new CD, so what I wanted to do was to take a number of the old songs that I always had a hankering to rerecord. We went in and we recorded all new versions of the tunes, some of them because some of the words have changed and some of them because there were choices we made in the studio 17 years ago and we had to live with them, but now it’s 17 years later and you sort of look at things a little differently. It’s just a whole bunch of stuff that I wanted to revisit; but, like I said, it didn’t just want to wimp out and transfer tracks across CDs and remaster something, I really just wanted to rerecord them.” This process allows Keelaghan fans the opportunity to see many of their favourites in a new light, but it also allows new fans the opportunity to get a broad cross-section of the man’s material in one cohesive package. It’s the perfect overview of the kind of touching and emotional songs that he’s put out over the past 17 years, yet presents those songs as Keelaghan is performing them today. It’s also a marvellous record of achievement and really illustrates why Keelaghan is among the finest folk singers and writers of our time.
Monica Schroeder It’s a long way from the tiny town of Horndean, Manitoba to the bustling Centre of the Universe in Toronto, Ontario, but local singer/songwriter Monica Schroeder (pronounced Sh-Row-Der) is about to complete that journey when she leaves the cosy confines of Manitoba in April. She actually left Horndean years ago, and hasn’t looked back since. She first found music on the long-running TV show, The New Music, and it was pop music that really caught her ear. She grew up listening to the likes of Tears for Fears, Crowded House, and INXS, and isn’t afraid to admit it. “I do love pop music,” Schroeder says, “I have a great deal of respect for it. It’s fun.” Obviously, exposure to 80s pop left her with more than bad hair and legwarmers (she has neither), as she has an uncanny knack with a memorable melody. Those wonderful melodies are all over her two CDs; instead of simple, folky acoustic treatments of her introspective and thought provoking lyrics, Schroeder’s CDs, on many tracks, employ lush orchestration and electronic elements, which were brought to her songs by producer Olaf Pyttlik and a stellar group of backing musicians. But Schroeder’s foray into music was not calculated, and did not come about easily. She didn’t really dream of releasing a CD. “I can’t remember what I was thinking,” she says, “If I’d been thinking clearly, I might not have done it, you know?” Although she had a keen interest in music and a great natural talent, like so many great artists, her art was at first inspired by great pain, which came from the death of her father. “It was about five years ago, maybe six years ago now that I sat down and decided that I wanted to write a few songs to kind of express some feelings that I had, I suppose,” explains Schroeder. That led to her first CD, 1999’s The Expectation of Home, which is not an overly happy album, but it sure is moving. And honest. Songs like “Something Beautiful,” “Without You,” and “Arms Around Me,” ache with the kind of pain that can only be expressed by someone who’s lived through it. It seems strange that even though Schroeder is very shy and quiet in conversation, she’s able to be so brave and honest in song. She explains, “I think it’s different. That’s why you write the songs, because you don’t necessarily want to talk about it. It’s just easier to sing about it. I know that for myself, I can separate myself from emotion. I don’t get emotional when I sing about it. When I think about it or talk about it with my friends, I might, but there’s something about writing it down and then it just kind of becomes a song and you can separate yourself from it. For me, that feels good. It’s a good process and it helps me deal with those emotions.” But somehow, even though most of the songs deal with loss and longing, the album is not a downer. This is due in large part to her uplifting strong and clear voice, which many listeners notice first, and reviewers are quick to comment on. Now Magazine in Toronto said, "Monica has a beautiful voice - emotive, fluid and clear. This Manitoba-based pop musician could make the white pages sound like Yeats." One of her strongest champions has been the respected Canadian editor of Billboard Magazine, Larry Leblanc, who once said, “Featuring one of the most spellbinding voices to grace Canadian music ... her acclaimed, independently released debut, 'The Expectation of Home', is a true gem. This Manitoba singer/songwriter is Canada's finest undiscovered artist." But the modest and pragmatic Schroeder doesn’t rest on the laurels of Leblanc’s kind words, instead saying, “It’s certainly flattering. It was wonderful to hear. Wow, I was blown away by that. But then there’s another part of me that decides, ‘ok, how am I going to work that into my bio and how can I use that to promote it?’ You try and think of how you can use that for your business. It’s really nice, but if I sat there thinking about it, I’d have a really bad headache.” Obviously, Leblanc isn’t the only one who has taken notice of Schroeder’s talents. Her debut was nominated for Pop Recording of the Year at the 2001 Canadian Independent Music Awards and 3 awards at the 2000 Prairie Music Awards. Two songs from it were licensed for TV movies on CBS and HBO in the U.S., and it’s been picked up for distribution by an Asian record company. In 2003, she released another strong collection of songs called Orbit. When I listened to this CD, I thought that, like many artists do after their first CD, Schroeder was trying to distance herself from her songs a bit and write songs with a more general connection. Not so, she says, “It’s interesting to hear you say that, because I have the exact opposite feeling about that. I feel that this album is more personal. It’s a warmer album, and when I listen to the first album, it feels kind of cold to me. In the songs, this person is kind of searching for some sort of comfort, but she’s also more removed from people. But this album is more about wanting to let life in and be open to love and to people and life. I feel that the songs are more personal and more giving and more warm.” And now Schroeder’s search is taking her on a great journey, as she’s about to head for the big city and pursue her musical ambitions. “I decided to try a new environment,” explains Schroeder, “I’m going to live there for a little while and see how I like it. I mean, I love this city, but I wanted to be in a new city and try something different. “I am definitely trying to pursue [music], and I’ll do whatever I need to do on the side if I have to do that. I figure I’m still young enough to be in a new location and move a little bit. Growing up in Horndean, I did always dream of living in Toronto.”
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