Rookie shows range over four songs in debut EP
See Montreal singer-songwriter Helena Deland at the Garrison before she’s better known
What’s the deal? Although Montreal singer-songwriter Helena Deland has but four songs in her official discography at the moment, they stroll with such poise and purpose through such a breadth of styles that there’s every reason to believe that when she gets around to releasing an entire album, it’ll be a monster.
On last year’s utterly beguiling Drawing Room EP, the gossamer-voiced Deland and her versatile band glide smoothly from vaporous psychedelia to breezy, ’60s-styled pop Parisien, to gnarly, darkhearted twang to whispery folk in less than 20 minutes, indulging in the odd left-field jam or sending the occasional electronic shiver through the production along the way, to render the whole package even more enchanting.
Comparisons to Leslie Feist, Julia Holter, Julee Cruise and recent Angel Olsen could be made but, sonically speaking, the hazy Drawing Room just as often brings to mind the likes of Radiohead or Patrick Watson circa Love Songs for Robots. And in any case, the uneasy line Deland walks lyrically between sad and spooky — “Take off your wig/ Let me stare/ I’ll keep un-cross-dressing you no matter where,” goes “Baby” — puts her in a class by herself. She will be much better known before long, so you might as well get in on the ground floor now.
Sum up what you do in a few simple sentences. “Songs for me are the materialization of otherwise vague ideas, a way to set specific times and places. They often become a sort of alternative way of expressing things to the people they are addressed to. Performing is the nearest I get to time travelling.”
What’s a song I need to hear right now? “Baby.” Rather more creepy and perverse than Deland’s angelic voice and the gentle, gauzy arrangement let on.
Where can I see her play? At the Garrison on Saturday, Feb. 18, as part of the Wavelength Music Festival with Julie Doiron and the Wrong Guys, Fake Palms, FET.NAT and Whoop-Szo. Details at wavelengthmusic.ca