St. John’s folksinger’s latest album may be her Watershed moment
Singer, songwriter, filmmaker, playwright, actor, activist or advocate.
Whatever hat Amelia Curran happens to be wearing from one day to the next, chances are she will make you think. That’s never been more obvious than on Watershed, her recently released eighth album, which skirts any obvious love songs even as it offers several radio friendly, folk-rock tracks.
Asked about the more deliberate challenge or call to action in some of her material, the singer born and based in St. John’s, N.L., points to her father’s example.
“I come from a political family. My father was an activist, often for rural communities in Newfoundland. I guess it’s a job that I’ve seen done my whole life and I understand politics so it’s kind of a natural fit. I think the history of music and musicians puts us in a position to be activists or advocates anyway. I think it’s kind of a responsibility.”
However Curran’s commentaries began, Watershed is one of her most accomplished efforts yet, maybe even a watershed moment in her career. Repeated listening reveals subtly sophisticated sonic touches along with the more explicit addition of horns on the hook-laden single Gravity, but labelling it by one genre or another is a waste of time.
“I just say it’s rock ’n’roll, even though, as a personality, I’m comfortable in a folk music world and I still play solo a lot.”
The song Watershed was an unexpected afterthought.
“We had the album finished and then two months after we wrapped in the studio, I wrote that song and it became the title of the album, too. It’s such a useful phrase for times of great change.”
The theme running through the song seems to be that small actions can have big consequences.
“That’s it absolutely. So many things make life convenient, so that other things are easy to ignore, and I think that people are complacent in their comfort. I don’t think we can afford to be complacent.”
A couple of tracks on Watershed address the business aspects of making music and Curran’s official biography actually quotes her observation that, “The music business is no place for art.”
“You’re struggling with an industry that continues to change so it’s this ongoing game of catch-up. I feel silly at the end of the day saying I just want to make art, to communicate and create something new under the sun, but there’s all this other stuff that’s just a little bit heartbreaking when you’re trying to do that.”
Recording the album with her solid backing trio (including usual guitarist Dean Drouillard) was “delightful, exciting and nerveracking in a good way.” After that, it was all about learning the tunes for touring. She estimates she spends around 200 days a year on the road, including travelling between shows, but she enjoys the unpredictable nature of performing life.
“It’s different every time, which is a good thing, but working with the same musicians, with people who naturally understand each other, makes me feel lucky.”
Growing up in St. John’s, Curran says she “always wrote,” adding that her involvement in music was “born out of necessity.” After piano lessons as a kid, she learned to play guitar in her mid-teens, started writing songs and was soon busking on street corners. That was close to 20 years ago.
“The pathway from artist to audience has changed quite a lot since then. I don’t know if it’s more difficult because I don’t think I’m doing the same job I was 15 or 20 years ago.
“When it becomes your career, you become an entrepreneur and you learn all these business skills. Then you sign with a record label and you go about losing some of those skills.”
Curran released her first album Barricade independently in 2000
and made three other discs before she signed with Six Shooter Records, the Toronto label that foreshadowed founder Shauna de Cartier’s other musical venture, Interstellar Rodeo. The first album she made for the label, 2009’s Hunter Hunter, saw her music draw a new level of recognition, winning multiple awards including a Juno in the solo roots category.
Some of Curran’s most potent songs have addressed the place of women. Then with the 2014 album, They Promised You Mercy, she pondered mental health treatment issues, something she faced down herself in bouts with depression.
“Then in the next election, I found myself being mentioned as ‘an advocate.’ I don’t mind that, but it’s a more natural, creative thing than that label might imply.”