Julie Doiron’s songs explore the ups and downs of her life with a relentless and poetic determination. She breaks free of sounding overtly autobiographical because the songs take on a compelling musical life of their own. Her voice wraps itself around a range of subtle tensions as melodies gently tug and push against the chordal architecture of the songs, and her private circumstances become the substance of lyric material for public consumption.
Don’t be misled by the name of her record label, for this debut collaboration between Doiron and Ottawa’s Wooden Stars is rich, layered and broad in ways that anything truly sappy can never be. The five players create a sound that uses the dynamics of folk and jazz, but with arrangement sensibilities that are orchestral and cinematic. The beautiful melancholy of “Seven” suggests a much larger ensemble; their range and confidence is impressive, without sounding like they’re trying to impress.
That air if humility is one of the great strengths throughout this album. There’s a casual presence to the songs, the production, and even the packaging that suggests a simple message to friends and family. In fact, there’s carefully constructed elegance at every turn. The judicious mix of electric and acoustic guitars creates mesmerizing textures, while the supple rhythm section is full of verve and flair. The songs at times become platforms for the sheer joy of ensemble playing, as on the spiraling tagline of “Gone Gone”. They can also roll out creatures of larger proportion, as on “The Best Thing For Me”, a winning slab of beefy riff-constructed modernism.
