Interviews – Page 86

In 2019, Naya Ali broke what was left of the ice around her, put herself in front of an audience, and reaped a genuine esteem within the hip hop family. From the Osheaga festival to M for Montreal, she was unanimously acclaimed.

What’s next?

In this context of coronaviral confinement, which is very conducive to attentive listening to the music, it goes without saying that the rapper is launching a new recording. The eight tracks on Godspeed: Baptism (Prelude) are the first part of a diptych, the second of which is scheduled for next fall.

Born in Ethiopia, Sarah “Naya” Ali immigrated with her family to Quebec when she was a child. She still lives here and can draw on a rich, diverse, composite culture. In accordance with the rules of Bill 101, she attended elementary and high school in French, then continued her college and university studies in English. She now speaks four languages (French, English, Amharic and Spanish), and is a graduate of Concordia and McGill universities.

“Before I switched my life back to music,” she says, “I worked in marketing for small businesses. Music was always a passion, but I wasn’t sure if I would make it my priority. For me, music is also a medium that goes beyond just creating, it’s a way to create movement that is useful to communities. Music is both an artistic foundation and a means of expression.”

Naya Ali discovered her artistic sensibilities as a teenager, from poetry to hip hop.

“I started writing poetry first,” she says, “I started rapping when I was about 18. I was active until I was 23, then I stopped. Why did I stop? I didn’t know myself 100 per cent, as an artist. I’d had a lot of influences, but I felt like the music I was creating wasn’t me. So I chose a safer path professionally, I concentrated on my studies in public relations and a career in marketing.”

One can only deny their true nature for so long. Still… diving into hip hop culture at the turn of one’s thirties can’t be easy.

“It’s never too late,” says Ali. “Things have to be done at the right time. If I’d got into rap in my early twenties, I probably wouldn’t have got the result I’m getting now. When, a few years later, I made that important decision, things changed very quickly.”

It seems that experience serves the rapper well.

“My studies, my life experiences, my business side, all that also plays a crucial role in my development as an artist. I’ve got a team, I’ve got a manager, I’ve got a recording contract with Coyote, I’m very involved in all aspects of my project. For me, this career’s a small business, it’s a startup where I’m the CEO. I have to make sure that my brand is respected.”

And what exactly is Naya Ali’s brand?

“I’m inspired by Kanye West in that respect – I want my music to instill confidence in people and change their minds at the same time. My music is about opening up dialogue, initiating conversations, promoting introspection and reflection, and inspiring people to become the ‘manager of their world’. I do this with both humility and confidence.”

In the studio, she works with Kevin Figs, Chase.wav, Tim Buron, Banx & Ranx…

“They are very strong producers, all from Montreal but also working abroad. I sit down with each of them, we come up with ideas, we come up with melodies, hooks, we create each song together. I’m accompanied live on stage by DJ John Brown, who’s also very talented. He makes sure that the vibe is always strong. We have a great dynamic, he and I.”

Our interviewee is outspoken, self-confident, and following firmly in the footsteps of her strongest influences. More precisely, she was educated by listening to Kanye West, Jay-Z, Kid Cudi, Eve and Lauryn Hill, to name only the American stars. It’s important for her to put her own touch on the grand scheme of hip hop, which is a huge task in itself.

African influences? Ethiopian? Naya Ali’s programme does ’t include samples or quotes from Mulatu Astatke, Gétatchèw Mèkurya and Mahmoud Ahmed. What’s the deal?

“Ethiopia is becoming a very important market,” she agrees.“ I’m from the diaspora, I’m interested in it, that’s for sure. I’ll work on it, but not in the short term. When I give my first shows in Africa, in any case, it will be a great moment for me! Right now I’m making the music I love and I’m not at all opposed to integrating African music into my own. It’s not an obligation, but in the future I could take action. The album cover, however, does have Ethiopian influences; you can see this cross on a golden background that you can see there in ceremonies and places of worship. It’s a tribute to my roots.”

The title of the recording evokes Naya Ali’s new departure.

“In Godspeed: Baptism,” she concludes, “it’s me who’s on stage, searching for myself, finding my strength. I think I’ve drawn these resources from deep within me and I begin this new chapter of my life by recalling what it took me to get to this point. It’s the light, the hope, the acquired mental strength, the positive vibes. But it is also the pressure, the anxiety, the negative emotions induced by this profession. It’s no longer a question of whether or not I’ll break through, it’s done. I now have to deal with the daily pressure and use the best strategies to ensure my growth.

“And stay strong.”

First topic on the menu of perceptions: of the three LJC albums released since 2012, Quand la nuit tombe (Simone Records) is the closest to Karkwa. When the observation is put to Louis-Jean Cormier, he nods in agreement.

“Yes, absolutely! We also made this observation as we progressed through the album. It wasn’t planned and, in the end, I’m very happy. In fact, it coincided with the return of François Lafontaine (also of Karkwa) to my artistic life. When he wanted to change studios, I welcomed him into mine and he set up his own synthesiser museum there (laughs). I was in the middle of making my new album at the time, so I thought it was cool that he got involved in the project. He ended up playing on almost half of the repertoire in the end.”

LJC insists, François Lafontaine’s role was decisive in the making of the album.

“From the beginning of the album, I wanted songs that ‘come out of the speaker’, I wanted it to go overboard. Frank went in there like a dog in a bowling alley, knocking everything over, it was fun! We were happy to go back to the drawing board. The next step will be to compose together for me, for him, for Marie-Pierre (Arthur), maybe for Karkwa… “

Some people sum up the instrumental construction of Quand la nuit tombe: a guit-free album. Was it premeditated?

“It wasn’t… it kind of came out of a drunken evening. I took a few chances with my friends, made an album without guitars and also made songs to dance to – although I really don’t consider myself an artist who makes people dance. The idea took off, and that was it! Artists had better take on such challenges, it’s always healthy to create under duress.

“It was very rewarding to make an album that focused on piano and keyboards. It’s bigger, it leaves more space for the voice and the words. The piano frees up the set, you can hear the voice, the words, the other instruments better. Moreover, the piano is my primary instrument; I played it for about 15 years before perfecting my guitar.”

Five years separate the release of Quand la nuit tombe and Les grandes artères. Five pivotal years, Cormier points out.

“My life has changed a lot – break-up, shared custody, new relationship, sabbatical, travels, making recordings… I was in Ethiopia, Germany, California. I’ve stuffed myself with hip hop, electronic music, Ethio-jazz, I’ve become aware of the cultural roots of my Ethiopian girlfriend (Rebecca Makonnen). By the way, the song ‘Les poings ouverts’ is directly inspired by Ethio-jazz.

“My girlfriend also inspired me to get into hip hop, so much so that I bought samplers and other synthesizers, and started digging into my brain to master these machines. To give an example, the song ‘100 mètres haies’ features excerpts from Debussy, and is the result of this apprenticeship. It must be said that the classical side of this song comes from my paternal influences and those of my brother, a violinist with the Orchestre symphonique de Québec and sometimes with les Violons du Roy.”

Despite the absence of muscular guitars, LJC notes, Quand la nuit tombe is not sweet.

“The word got out, I’d made a piano-vocal album. People are going to take the plunge when they hear it! It rocks and I like it! I wouldn’t say it’s a rock album, but it’s one of my solo projects that pushes me the most in that direction. As well as singing on it, I play piano, synthesizers and synth bass. Alex McMahon, one of the best pianists in the country, doesn’t play a note of piano on this album! He plays synthesizers, but mostly drums, simultaneously with Marc-André Larocque. Together, they are a-maaaa-zing! Guillaume Chartrain plays electric bass and synth bass.”

The start of the new tour was imminent but… the pandemic has obviously changed the course of things.

“We’ve got a hundred dates planned, we’re going to play them all eventually. I’m really looking forward to getting back on the road! Brigitte Poupart will be stage-directing, Mathieu Roy will be lighting. With the exception of François Lafontaine, the band that made the record will accompany me – Alex McMahon, Guillaume Chartrain, Marc-André Larocque.”

As for the literary aspect of the process, Cormier feels his lyricist’s pen got sharper.

“I had a very open dialogue with Daniel Beaumont, a ‘lyric buddy’ who helps me and doesn’t hesitate to tell me the truth. He saves me from deleting excerpts that I considered useless, he critiques me, and more. Other friends can also do it, I think in particular of Martin Léon… This time, in any case, I wrote more alone than in the past. There were moments of dazzling creation, hands on the piano and words coming at the same time. Other songs are the result of relay races between me and Daniel and so on. My point has become clearer, it’s related to recent episodes in my life. I tried to be both clear and simple, without neglecting depth and innovation.”

Cormier also believes that he got more invested in his chosen subjects.

“It’s a record where I put my guts on the table, more than ever before. I’m less descriptive, I’m taking a stand. For example, I talk to my father, telling him I’m withdrawing from religion, which generates more shit than good. I can also raise the issue of racism with David Boudreault; we’re both privileged white men, we have companions of colour, our awareness is through them.”

LJC’s peripheral experiences have helped him mature. The soundtrack of the film Kuessipan (shot with the Innu of Quebec’s Côte-Nord region, where Cormier comes from) allowed him to evolve on keyboards, and the Cirque Éloize show Serge Fiori/Seul ensemble was also a revelation.

“When Alex McMahon and I reworked his music, Fiori brought us back to the thrill, the instinct, the heart. He urged us not to be too cerebral, to keep the imperfect recordings that carry the real emotions. Emotion is superior to technical cleanliness!”

More audacious, a little less pop, will Quand la nuit tombe augur another sharp turn, like the one negotiated in 2012 that gradually led him from indie rock to reality TV and mainstream success? Where does Cormier stand?

“At the time of Karkwa,” he recalls, “I wasn’t the most fucked-up musician in Montreal! And on the more popular side, I’m often perceived as a black sheep. In fact, I’ve always seen myself in the in-between, I’m comfortable even with my ass between two chairs! I’m capable of bridging the gap, I can make Klô Pelgag sing with Marie-Mai. I don’t think I’ve become a transvestite for all that, a prostitute, I haven’t lost my integrity.”

Still…

“During my sabbatical,” says the star singer and musician, “I experienced a return to the values of art. I went to the museum, to the theatre, I read, watched a lot of repertory films and documentaries. I remember hearing Pasolini say that the biggest mistake an artist made was to try to achieve unanimity. It struck me… maybe I had been trying too hard to please everyone? So I chose a daring project, with ‘bombs’ that explode at certain times… knowing that when the DNA of a song is simple and effective, there’s no need to do pirouettes. Boldness does not exclude simplicity.”

The expression: exceptional voice, exceptional phrasing, simple and substantial words. The diversity of the genres involved: French chanson, pop, trap, hip hop, soul, electro, gospel. The look: imposing size, magnificent face, opulent coiffure, unfailing sensuality despite an atypical physique. The boss of her own business: producer, manager, manager of her own company, owner of her work.

Barely out of her teens, Yseult Onguenet made a name for herself on reality TV. Nouvelle Star launched her into the public eye in 2014, and… it could have ended there, with Yseult lost in the nebula of generic singers. But it didn’t.

Interviewed during a recent trip to Montreal, she’s nevertheless grateful for her time on the small screen, in front of the general public in France.

“It was a great springboard. As a result, I was able to create my own company, my own label. Today, I’m the producer of my videos and recordings, I’m the owner of my content, the leader of my project. Afterwards, it was a lot of work, management, team management, administration, negotiations, etc., but when I see everything that’s happening today, it’s impressive… serious… too good!”

Let’s agree from the outset that Yseult has the predisposition and the stature necessary to bring her boat to port without being eaten by the big showbiz structures. Presumably, she has realized that it takes more than just success on reality TV to really make a career.

For instance, she pulled herself out of the limelight after launching her recording career in 2015. When she returned to the public a couple of years later, what she announced was very different. In turn, the Rouge et Noir EPs clearly established her as one of the strongest newcomers on the French music scene. And that’s exactly why the Centre Phi welcomed her: out of the ordinary, nevertheless a conqueror, nevertheless a star.

“In Paris,” she says, “we started out with a room of 200 people. In Montreal, we started in front of 400! It was unbelievable, something crazy!”

At the end of February, indeed, the room was packed to the brim with fans who were more than enthusiastic. Accompanied by a keyboard player equipped with computerized sounds, Yseult set fire to the place – your humble correspondent can testify to this. When an artist generates such a stir with a first public appearance, it is clear that the buzz is bound to be considerable.

Yseult is Parisian by birth, she grew up in Bercy/Cour Saint-Émilion, she also lived in the 20th arrondissement, near the famous Père-Lachaise cemetery. Her parents are from Yaoundé (mother) and Douala (father), both from the Eton community of Cameroon. Now retired, her father worked as an executive at Land Rover.

“He studied hard to achieve that,” her daughter proudly recounts. “It was very difficult for him in the French context. Today I tell myself that if my father succeeded in life, it’s impossible that I won’t succeed. He’s a great music lover, he loves jazz, classical music, African music and more. My mother’s a big fan of French variété, she’s into it!”

Not so long ago, Yseult might not have toasted her parents with such admiration, she clearly experienced a generational conflict. Anxious about her daughter’s artistic ambitions, Papa Onguenet had forbidden her to make music and… she did as she pleased, with the results now obvious. The Nouvelle Star jurors had in fact publicly underlined, for her father, the evident talent of his daughter. Today, the parents are very proud of Yseult. And we imagine that the ties have grown closer because she says she recently lost an older brother, without wanting to give details about this disappearance.

In order to live his life as an artist and polish her pop character, Yseult relocated to Brussels.

“Frankly, it’s too good! With Angèle, Damso and many others, the scene over there is hyper-eclectic, there’s a real mix. It’s healthier, more relaxed than in Paris, where things are too fast, too big, in my opinion. Artistically, Brussels is incredible! What’s more, there’s a strong Anglophone influence there. It’s clearly more mixed than in Paris. In Belgium, with the Flemings, the Walloons and foreigners, people navigate between languages, a bit like you do in Montreal. In fact, I feel very much at home here. You seem like people who care!”

That’s what led Yseult to set up an essentially Brussels-based team:

“I keep the same core of producers who made my last two EPs, musically and visually. I try not to put too much pressure on myself, take the time to express what I feel, my inner conflicts, my feelings, without revealing too many details of my private life. In this spirit, I’ll release eight tracks next October. For this, I’m working with Prinzly, who’s collaborated with Damso, and also with Ziggy (Franzen) and Romain (Descampes), who worked with me on my previous recordings. All based in Brussels, these producers remain in the shadows. With them, there’s an exchange and a real artistic proposal that I didn’t find in Paris.”

Chanson, electro, R&B, hip hop, and mainstream French pop are on Yseult’s program. “I’m a hybrid, I like that word,” she says, before letting a sonorous laugh erupt.

Pressed on the absence of African elements in her music, she says she takes responsibility for her choice.

“I love French variété too much… I took my mother’s side! (laughs) I love Barbara too much, I love Brel too much, I love words too much. It moves me. Of course, African culture is part of me, but what drives me first of all is the French variété. You don’t have to be a prodigy to be able to exist, you can’t hide behind arrangements. I think it’s cool, beautiful and strong to introduce myself as a piano-voice artist in 2020. The most beautiful is the simplest. You know, a lot of black artists in France would like to do variété and don’t dare. The French music industry doesn’t allow us to be mixed.”

Guess who’s going to change that?

Photo credit: JF Galipeau

Since forming in 2013, Les Deuxluxes have developed an image and sound all their own. Composed of singer and musician Anne Frances Meyer and multi-instrumentalist Étienne Barry, the pair had already turned many heads with their flamboyant garage-pop and colourful, provocative kitsch style, before releasing their debut album, Springtime Devil, in 2016.

Since then, Les Deuxluxes have been playing a string of shows, in Montreal and around the world, trips that have allowed them to discover, learn and gather all kinds of sounds, stories, anecdotes, good turns and bad, and many other adventures. Adventures that have served as fuel for Lighter Fluid, their second effort. “Since the album was released four years ago,” says Barry, “we’ve toured all over the world, we’ve been confronted with very different realities from our own, we’ve met fascinating people who taught us a lot, especially in Latin America and Cuba, where we played 13 concerts in sixteen days. So for this new album, we’ve assimilated and then dissected all these life experiences, sometimes bizarre, absurd, psychedelic experiences.”

Divine studio

Following their sense of adventure, the duo chose to record their new album in a small church in the Eastern Townships, and no, it’s not the one that belonged to the Arcade Fire. “Everybody asks us that,” laughs Meyer. “It was a slightly more obscure church in the corner of Sutton, a building that dates back to the 19th century but has a strangely avant-garde, slightly modern feel to it. The ornaments are all handmade, the stained-glass windows are very colourful, with a slightly psychedelic country feel.”

“We really fell under the charm of this church,” adds Barry. “It’s a magical place, very inspiring, nestled at the top of a hill. Our new songs already had a psychedelic flavour and frankly, the whole place seemed to fit the spirit we were trying to give to the record.

Lighter Fluid, released on February 28, is therefore not an album conceived like most others. For this record, Les Deuxluxes complicated their lives little. “We often complicate our lives,” Meyer says, again with a laugh. “It was also a question of economics,” insists Barry, more seriously. “It cost us a lot less than renting a studio for $500 a day, and since everything is at our expense, we explored other options. So there was this church not far from where my father has a cottage. We were intrigued by it, so we went to visit it one day and we really liked the energy it gave us. Then we checked the acoustics and made sure everything was solid and in place, especially the electricity!”

Psychedelic Mass

Recorded in about ten days, Lighter Fluid was produced by the duo and their perennial accomplice, Francis Duchesne. “We really put the emphasis on guitars and a wall of amps, to spoil ourselves. It was a kind of mass, or ceremony, at each session. We’d arrive with flowers that we’d picked, we’d burn sage, as a tribute to this temple,” explains Meyer. “I think it’s more on the level of the acoustics that this place played a role,” the singer continues. “It’s quite peculiar, with all the woodwork inside, the shape of the hall. That’s the element we hadn’t planned for, and which in the end gives the album that rather unique sound. The reverberation’s impressive!”

On this new offering of 11 tracks, the pair wanted to get out of their comfort zone a little more. Hence the title. “The idea behind the album was fan the flames a bit. These are songs that gave us a lot of trouble when they were first created. Each song was like a little puzzle or a maze,” admits mustachioed multi-instrumentalist Barry. “So Lighter Fluid seemed appropriate. And then we used Lighter Fluid over there to light up what we’d brought back from the SQDC!” General laughter ensues.

“There’s also a metaphorical aspect to the title, like the fuel to start a fire, because there’s a certain political or committed side to the album,” concedes Barry, who admits that it’s also a more experimental record. In addition to the two songs in French, another in Spanish and a nice nod to the Stooges with the medley “Down on the Street/Loose” that the band has often played live, Les Deuxluxes have not only opted for a change of scenery, but also for a slight change of sounds.

“We explored different sounds, I used different guitars on this record, including a twelve-string guitar. There’s also a little bit of flute, an instrument Anna has played since she was a little girl but we’ve never incorporated it into our music. The idea was to go back to our roots, to remain strictly a duo, because on the first record we had guests who came to play a little bass, or drums… So the objective was to do it like in a show, just the two of us on stage. Me on guitar and drums at the same time, and Anna on vocals and guitar too. We’re a very efficient little unit and that’s what we tried to show on this record, pushing the concept as far as possible.”

“We’ve gone in all kinds of directions,” says Meyer. “We used different rhythms, with modes instead of scales… in short, it was a pretty interesting mix. We tried it live a couple of times just to break the ice and practice a little bit for the upcoming tour, and it’s… um… it’s a lot of notes!”

“The juxtaposition of grit and beauty is the very essence of my art,” says Baltimore singer/songwriter/producer Elon Battle, aka :3LON. “It’s my favourite way to convey drama. I want people to feel heaviness and ethereal all at once. I want people to rage and mosh but cry and be vulnerable at the same time.”

That’s a difficult balance to strike, and to achieve it, :3LON practices a volatile alchemy. His is a unique and startling blend of sweet R&B, lush ambient, tough beats and industrial crunch. In a raw and delicate countertenor, he weaves epic yet intimate tales inspired by fantasy RPGs and Japanese animation.

“Aggression and softness. Brooding torment and violent happiness. That’s what I like about anime, it sends you through a range of emotion.”

:3LON’s “Aria of Resilience”, released last September as a precursor to a forthcoming EP, is exemplary of his approach,

“The producer, Sentinel, and I exchanged quite a few ideas about what images the song we wanted to make would provoke,“ Battle recalls. “We talked about medieval fantasy steampunk concepts, and what life in that world would entail. We agreed that we wanted to create something with an industrial, death-metal feel fused with classical elements.”

They did so, and the classical element, a memorable harp medieval lick, came from a surprising source. It’s a brilliant creative gesture in principle that totally works musically.

“Sentinel mentioned that he had heard something about a song that was written secretly in a Hieronymus Bosch painting, and we began to do research. He found this video clip of someone playing out the notes that were written on the butt of a character in the Bosch painting ‘The Garden of Earthly Delights’.

“Sentinel sampled the clip he found and began to chop it, then build around it. I immediately began writing lyrics, everything happened really fast. I wanted to tell a story about a person left behind after their loved one has gone to fight in a war against uprising forces. We got our friend Mathew Sea to add some finishing touches, and to mix and master. The rest was history.”

As one might expect, an artist of such pronounced contrasts is unlikely to limit himself to the nightclub stage, and the alternatives Battle explores are elaborate and startling.

Last year, Battle contributed to Circuit City, a choreopoem concocted by Philadelphia musician/composer Moor Mother, aka Camae Ayewa of Black Quantum Futurism Collective. “I think we’ll be doing more of that this year,” Battle notes,

Meanwhile, “Aria of Resilience” has inspired Petrichor, a video installation by Swiss-based South Korean artist Sinae Yoo (with Battle in the short film’s cast), currently popping up at high-end European galleries.

The sweaty little showbar remains a platform for Battle, though, and so he’ll be opening for savvy, subtly political synth-pop act Lower Dens (likewise from B-more) this week – looks like Friday the 13^th is lucky, for a change.

Pelletier and D’Orion first worked together about eight years ago, on a reinterpretation of Ionesco’s Rhinocéros. Some time later, in 2015, they teamed up again for Radical K-O, a show inspired by boxing and the violence that underlies it, presented as the opening act for Mois Multi in Quebec City. It was at that time that the idea of making a metal Macbeth began to germinate.

“It started with a joke,” says Pelletier.

“We were like, oh wow!” exclaims Pelletier. “Then, once the idea was out there, we started thinking about it more seriously. Because the themes, the raw side of the work, the celebration of the occult forces, the whole mystical dimension… we thought it worked well with a metal concert.”

Shakespeare’s shortest play, but also one of his most frequently performed – it’s also been fodder for numerous film adaptations – Macbeth tells, in five acts, how the general of the same name, pushed by his wife, assassinates the King of Scotland to seize power, and how, prey to remorse and paranoia, the couple gradually sinks into madness.

The idea wasn’t to simply match the Stratford Bard’s play with a heavy metal rock score. The actors don’t only play their parts, they’re also the musicians, supported by a drummer, Sam Bobony of Black Givre and Avec le soleil sortant de sa bouche, and D’Orion on electronics, taking care of the ambient sounds.

On the other hand, the musical work to which the actors must devote themselves seems to lead them to play differently, in a more instinctive way, their intellect being so to speak occupied with mastering the musical aspect.

“For me,” continues Pelletier, “it was a challenge not to just take on professional musicians. Because basically, it’s a way to provoke the actors and bring them to a level of playing where they are more fragile, more instinctive. It’s like a way of diverting their attention to achieve more authenticity.”

Although sticking to heavy metal, the elements of the soundtrack are of quite varied influences.

“It’s not just a death metal show,” says D’Orion. “There’s drone metal à la Sunn O))), we also have stuff that nods to bands like Slayer or even Metallica.”

Of course, all sorts of possibilities had to be explored to ensure that the dramaturgical elements, the emotions experienced by the characters, and the music complement one another.

“We’ve been looking really hard. I thought it was in the dialogue, but in the end it’s the music that expresses what’s going on,” Pelletier believes. “This sound represents the anguish or anger of the characters, the camaraderie, the fraternity, the pleasure and also that of a band playing together, tripping out, until everything crashes down. So in my directing, I always had to give up something in favour of music, which becomes a vehicle, a language.”

However, the reins had to be kept tightly in hand to make sure the music didn’t deviate from the play, and yet remained true to the heavy metal aesthetic.

“A number of times,” says D’Orion, “the actor-musicians met up, wrote songs, and then they’d come in and show us what they’d done. So we were pruning in order to keep a metal spirit. You have to understand that we have Norwegian metal makeup. If we start doing rock ’n’ roll, it’s not gonna work.”

The music influenced the dramaturgy of the play in such a way that it shaped the play even more sharply.

“It’s really in two parts,” says Pelletier. “In the first part, we’re more of a band, we celebrate in a slightly more classical way, what you’d expect from a metal concert, with beautiful costumes and make-up. After Banquo’s murder, it’s like a second show, which goes in a strange kind of radicality. It goes into nightmare. They don’t sleep and nothing’s going right for the couple.”

“In the first part, in fact,” adds D’Orion, “if you have a theatre-only audience that’s never been to a death metal or drone metal show, people will see what they’ve already imagined. They’re going to see exactly what we expect.”

“The codes have really been respected,” continues D’Orion. “We’re in between a great show by a really famous band, and a band playing in the garage.”

“But who believe in what they’re doing,” adds Pelletier.

“While with the second part,” continues D’Orion, “we really fall into experimental theatre. Much closer to what I do. It borders on noise, abstraction.”

“That part belongs more to the two musicians,” says Pelletier, “and the actors are more in their original roles. So we’re entering into something very condensed. And then, anyway, we play with the fact that people know the story.”

“Everyone who saw our earlier versions,” notes D’Orion, “and who knew Shakespeare, all said the same thing – we understand, we don’t need anything else.”

Since the first flash, a little over five years ago, the maturation process has been a long one: residency in Quebec City, presentation at the Off FTA a year and a half ago, then last February at the Mois Multi in Quebec City, but it has paid off.

“The audience might wonder how far it will go,” Pelletier says. “In the stagings I’ve seen of Macbeth, the level of tension has rarely reached the level we’ve achieved. And that’s through the music and the show. The intuition that we have had is used on the level of the play, it brings all the theatricality. After having had big a six-minute death metal jam, everything’s more open.

“Maybe that’s it, because we’re raw, it’s more porous. The theatricality, the tension, the danger, they’re there. It’s like a new look. Because we know so much history, we need to do less. It’s what else we do that’s interesting.

“The second part is more dreamlike,” he continues, “there’s hardly any script left, except for a few monologues. The witches completely possess Lady Macbeth, and then, through the possession, we finally reach a stripping down, strangely. All that remains is the music. We end on solitude. After killing everyone, Macbeth is left alone with the ghosts of his girlfriend and the friend he killed.”

“Anyway, we’ve never seen that Macbeth before. That makes it really exciting. It’s a good bad scene.”

“The music prevents us from doing psychological theatre,” concludes Guillaume Perreault (who plays Macbeth), who arrived mid-interview, “and that’s why it’s really successful. It’s very exhilarating for the actors.”

For those who are concerned about decibel levels, it should be noted that production provides earplugs.

Live from London, her frail voice and almost timid tone contrast stunningly with the flamboyant character the singer-musician projects. Finally… this time, the contrast is less marked: taken mostly from Hunter, Hunted‘s rereadings are based on generally binary rhythms – while the artist herself isn’t entirely so! Following in the footsteps of influential musicians, lyricists and composers such as Janelle Monae, St.Vincent, Courtney Barnett and Christine and the Queens, Anna Calvi clears new territories for the feminine and revisits notions of gender.

What does our interviewee think?

“For me,” says Calvi, “artistic expression is completely agender and that’s what I like in music… when you make music you can escape that kind of constraint. More and more artists, by the way, see it that way. As a woman, in particular, I like to help change the perception of how women should behave. That’s one of the reasons why I subconsciously immerse myself in music.”

Launched last Friday (March 6th), the album Hunted is the sequel to Hunter. Or maybe a response to Hunter. What spirit presided over the conception of this simple, sweet, ethereal, refined recording?

“When I went on tour with Hunter,” she explains, “I listened to ethereal versions that I had recorded for myself. I found different qualities, an intimacy and a sweetness that I liked. And so I hung on to the idea of releasing these songs, to offer another version of who I am by capturing the intimacy and vulnerability in them. Until then, these songs were private in my mind, I never thought they would be made public, or heard by anyone.”

Contrary to expectations, at least for the main interested party, these versions became public. Today, they shed a new light on Calvi’s work; this time, distillation dominates. It should also be remembered that the musician’s classical influences (Ravel, Debussy, Messiaen, etc.) had sometimes led her to cloak her rock songs in splendid arrangements. She’s taken a different tack of late.

“When I did the Hunter album in 2018, I didn’t want to have the strings present in One Breath, the previous one. That decision was based on a desire to be more rock ’n’ roll, I guess. This time, it’s softer and cleaner. Who knows what will be on the next album? All acoustic? I just like to change with each new project.”

Hunter… Hunted. So what is this relationship between hunter and hunted? Between huntress and hunted?

“They are, I guess, two sides of the same coin. Hunter is powerful, galvanizing, the hunter moves when he wants, where he wants. And I guess Hunted is more about nuance, reflection, calm, vulnerability. In a way, I needed to give examples to young women who live in one or the other of these dimensions. In one way or another, we are all multi-faceted beings. Then opposites can meet, hunter and hunted.”

Julia Holter, Courtney Barnett, Charlotte Gainsbourg and Joe Talbot’s IDLES were all invited to sing on Hunted. Calvi recounts the experience:

“When they agreed, I didn’t give them instructions, beyond the song to work on. When I listened to the results, I had many surprises.

“I had no idea what Julia was going to do on ‘Swimming Pool’, and she displayed that artistic talent that always amazes me in her own work. She creates things that are both unexpected and really beautiful, and she’s an artist like that.

“Charlotte is a great influence on me. I love the way she can sing quietly, you feel a mixture of mystery and secrecy. When I composed ‘Eden’, I had Charlotte in mind, so I thought of her for this collaboration. A dream come true!

“I’m a big fan of Courtney Barnett, amazing lyricist and guitarist. I became interested in her singing ‘Don’t Beat The Girl out of My Boy’, which also inspired me to interpret this song in a fresh and different way. I’m really happy with the way it happened.

“As for Joe Talbot and IDLES, I’m also a fan, I love the energy and strength of his voice. It was perfect in the context of the song ‘Wish’.

“All the guests brought something very unique to the songs.”

How then can we situate this album alongside the three previous ones – 2011’s eponymous album, One Breath in 2013, and Hunter in 2018?

“What interests me is here and now,” says Calvi. “I’m not motivated by what I did before, I want to work on something else for the future. My new album, for example, I like to see it as a springboard to the music I’m writing for the next album or for Peaky Blinders. I want to continue to pursue candidly what attracts me.”

After she did Hunted, did she take a step back?

“In the end,” she says, “it’s a private, intimate project that I share with trust with my audience. It’s been very important to me! I still feel that personal events in my life resonate in these songs, and in a way shape my artistic evolution. That’s why this album is particularly close to my heart. A few years ago, I might not have shared this intimacy.”

In concert, Calvi says, she’ll exploit the Hunter–Hunted dichotomy:

“There will be three of us on stage, some songs will be calm and intimate, others will be wild and strong. The idea is to make a whole journey, to express the different moods, feelings and thoughts. All these aspects of existence are expressed through my show, so that we can get lost in it during the performance. It is a wide spectrum of colours and emotions. It corresponds to the atmosphere of the new record, but we can also make a lot of noise!”

Editor’s note: That was March 2, 2020. It was our first international interview on www.panm360.com and you know the rest… so far: the pandemic brings back the same topic, just as relevant 21 months later. The originally scheduled Caribou / Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith program has thus been postponed to this Monday, November 22, 2021 – note that the excellent producer, keyboardist and elecronic composer Kara Lis Coverdale is replacing K A Smith. That’s why we’re bringing you this text for the next 24 hours… which you may never have read.

Contacted at his home in the United Kingdom prior to the start of this world tour, the Canadian artist talks about Suddenly in all generosity. First off, the context of its creation.

“In my partner’s family and in my own,” he explains, “we are the youngest children. Suddenly we became the strong, supportive members of our families, which we had never been before because we were the youngest. In the last few years, my wife’s brother died of a heart attack. I watched my mother-in-law cope with this loss and
suffer.

“During this same period, my wife’s sister divorced. Today, we have young children, three and eight years old, and elderly parents. I feel torn between the happiness of this growing family and the melancholy of the past that my loved ones trigger as they begin the last part of their lives.”

What’s the correlation between personal life and Caribou? A source of inspiration, for better or worse.

“When I listen to my new material again, I hear the sadness of these events and the reflections that follow. I also feel the effort to comfort the people involved. My music reinforces this idea of comfort, it also represents a kind of catharsis for me.”

For Caribou, then, modesty has gradually given way to emotional transparency.

“When you dive into the new songs and you listen back to the music,” he says, “you see my willingness to share very personal things and integrate them into the music and lyrics. Take ‘Cloud Song’. for example, a reflection on what my father went through. I recorded that song for myself because it felt good. At first I didn’t want to make this song public because it was too personal and I didn’t feel comfortable
sharing it. In the end, I felt I had to do it.

“Gradually, this intimacy that was unveiled took a certain amount of space on previous albums, but it increased dramatically on Suddenly. When I perform these newer songs, I do it with more emotion, precisely because they’re rawer, because they’re linked to my life experience, whereas most of my older songs are fiction.”

Transforming his own personal emotions into creative material, in short, represents the main step forward of Suddenly.

“That’s what I’m most proud of: confronting these difficult things personally, feeling comfortable and honest enough to write, sing and share them, overcoming the obstacle of modesty and hopefully resonating with my audience.”

Snaith is then invited to comment on his progress as a complete musician.

The recipient of the Polaris Prize (for Andorra, released in 2007), became known for his pop versatility, both in terms of “classical” instrumentation and electronic devices.

“To some degree,” he says, “very little change is observable in Suddenly, the methodology remains the same. For example, a lot of the guitar-like sounds actually come from software designed to evoke the guitar from a keyboard. We live in a world where we can confuse the listener.”

Though inclined towards digital production from the very beginning, Snaith has never abandoned the world of acoustic and electric instruments, and analog keyboards.

“I’ve always felt like I had one foot in both worlds. I grew up in a small town in rural Ontario. There was hardly any electronic music where I lived, so I got into psychedelic rock and other similar styles first. In my opinion, you had to try everything, in every way possible; grunge rock, school band, wedding music, DJing…. Anything I could do, I did.”

While any notion of stylistic purity is off the table, for both Caribou and Daphni, Snaith’s recent work is tamer than earlier material.

“I don’t really feel like I’m consciously thinking about what comes from the musical worlds I love. Everything seems to fit together without me worrying about it. For
Caribou, however, it’s important to me to create songs in a dance music context.

Writing songs with verses, choruses, bridges, and harmonic changes is not very common in dance music.”

Composition, he believes, far outweighs technical performance.

“I’m not a good guitar player, I’m an okay drummer, keyboards are my main area of expression. I don’t rehearse on my instruments like I used to do all the time as a teenager. I only really play when we’re touring. Being a guitar hero or a keyboard virtuoso is not the goal. The goal is to make good songs and good music.”

To that end, playing is essentially linked to the creative process, as well as to the live setting.

“I can play the same part over and over again until I find the right one. Then I never play my new songs again until I play them live. In rehearsal, I sometimes can’t remember what key these songs are in, and what chords are involved. I actually think more in terms of the sound and the mix rendered at that stage. Usually, you know, bands come into the studio after playing their songs on tour a few times. For
me, it’s the opposite process; I play them until they’re well put together in every aspect.”

From this perspective, Snaith confronts a paradox: to learn, or unlearn?

“At the same time, it’s important for me to master the creation of better songs and keep that feeling of never holding anything back, always starting from scratch, grasping things through trial and error. Not having a clear idea of what I’m doing makes it playful, fun, creative, exploratory. ”

A hermit during the creation of Suddenly, Snaith appreciates getting together with old friends when it comes to playing in front of an audience.

“Only one other musician besides me,” he says, “came into the studio to play guitar and saxophone: Colin Fisher. For the stage, I’ve been working with the same band since 2009: Ryan Smith, a childhood friend, joined by Brad Weber and John Schmersal. It’s very important for me to play with them after months of solitude, it becomes very collaborative when we learn to play with instruments these songs
originally imagined with synthesizers and machines. It’s incredible for me to see these songs come out of the studio and start a new life.”

It’s impossible to wrap up the interview without mentioning the possible link between music and advanced mathematics, knowing that Snaith holds a degree in the field.

“Many people associate me with engineering or something like that and… it’s not that at all! For me, mathematics and music are games involving abstract ideas or sounds. These games allow me to make connections, to put things together. Since childhood, I’ve liked to find myself in these mental universes, even today, I see the same connection between mathematicians and musicians. I don’t know why they go so well together, but there are two disciplines that I like to play with.”

And why is Snaith, a complex mind if ever there was one, content to toil in the pop- cultural milieu, however refined his efforts may be?

“I listen to a lot of complex and experimental music, much of which excludes melodic elements. But when it comes to me as a composer, I’m a sucker! I can’t resist a pop melody, it’s deeply rooted in who I am. It will always be there.”