MOMENT OF TRUTH
Queer Black artist D'orjay goes country
It was while training to be a shaman in the jungles of Chile that D'orjay realized she was meant to be a country singer.
“I was in the last round of training, being used for the demonstration of a technique that we were being taught by our teacher, and it just suddenly hit me,” she explains.
The Alberta-born singer-songwriter is feeling buoyant, having just got off the phone with
Proud Radio's Hunter Kelly for an earlier interview on his Nashville-based Apple Music Country show spotlighting LGBTQ+ artists that runs this Sunday at 1 p.m. MT.
Her moment of clarity in the jungle led to self-reflection.
“I was almost 30 years old and I was supposed to be a singer, so why am I here training to be a shaman?”
The logical answer is, of course, you can be both. So began D'orjay's juggling act of practicing ancient wisdom with playing roots music, one that passed through her local Soulful Singalongs (on hiatus until restrictions are lifted) live shows and into her debut album, New Kind of Outlaw, recorded with a batch of local heavyweights and released at the end of November.
In it, D'orjay has fine tuned her shifting, bubbling musical stew of soul, country and rock and summed up her musical philosophy in the title track, where the lyric “reminding you all country music is Black” serves as both manifesto and gleeful jab at the establishment.
The establishment will likely soon be taking notice given such honours as being selected January's Rainbow Spotlight artist for the aforementioned Proud Radio, a show that broadcasts to 165 countries. D'orjay sees this as not only an important step in her career, but also a necessary evolution in the genre.
“It's an honour to have my art highlighted and shared on a platform whose purpose is to make country music more inclusive and inviting to different groups of people,” she says.
We spoke with D'orjay about growing up Black in Alberta, breaking the rules of country music and where best to hide the battery pack for the lights in her hair.
Q You come by your love of country music honestly having grown up all over Alberta. Was it the soundtrack to your youth?
A My hometown is Irma, that's where my grandparents were born and that's where the family home is. My mom was a single mom and we moved to other small towns in the province like Fort Mcleod and Leduc, which at the time wasn't quite the booming metropolis it is now (laughs). So yeah, I saw a lot of rural Alberta and country music was always something that we listened to.
Q Most kids reject the music their parents listen to, at least when they're younger. Did you deliberately try and find another form of music like rock or folk when you were growing up?
A No, I never rejected it, because it always spoke to me. I did do some exploring by the time I was in Grade 7 or 8 for various reasons, like the experience of being the only Black person in any situation I was in and trying to assimilate. I was and still am a huge Rancid fan, and I love soul and blues. I really got into '70s rock like Queen and Zep, but country music was always a cornerstone.
Q You started writing and performing later than most. Did you always have an idea of how your original music was going to sound, or did it develop?
A Once I better understood the landscape of country music, and what it means to be a mainstream country artist, it all came together. I was getting feedback that I probably wasn't going to fit into that box and that freed me to realize that I don't need to follow any rules. I'm just going to do what I want and allow the music to find its audience and
niche. This meant that I could experiment and bring in other musical references, like reggae (in her track Grandma Luvy's House). Also, I could sing about issues that might make people uncomfortable. It's been cathartic to give myself permission, to not censor myself as an artist.
Q This would be especially important because you're not only a shaman singing country music, you're a queer shaman singing country music.
A It's an exciting time in country music to be experimenting. To be honest, I wasn't even aware of how many queer artists, or artists that fit within the LGBTQ family, were out there, or for that matter the BIPOC community. There's a ton of us and we don't get the same platform and recognition, but that's starting to change. People are seeking different sources for music because they're getting sick of what's being offered by the gatekeepers of country music.
Q Does your status as a shaman practicing Pranic healing creep into the music at all?
It's an honour to have my art highlighted and shared on a platform whose purpose is to make country music more inclusive.
A Definitely in the lyrical content, because I am spiritually centred, but also in the live show. When I perform, there's a sacred prayer. We get people involved in an almost southern spiritual way with people clapping, and I call in directions. Because I bring light into the darkness as a shaman, I've also put lights in my Afro; there's a battery pack in my bra strap that allows me to turn on the lights. It's really something that needs to be seen to be understood.
D'orjay got “all gussied up” for her interview with Kelly, and you can watch it now using the link in the online version of this article. The full segment, including some of her music and another interview with S. G. Goodman, will be airing tomorrow at 1 p.m. MST online at apple. co/_proudradio on Apple Music Country. yegarts@postmedia.com