Last year for Michael Feuerstack was a time for looking back. Much of 2007 was spent performing with a reunited Wooden Stars.

Born in the City, a narrative from Lies on the Prize, the typically superb new release from Feuerstack's ongoing Snailhouse project, finds the singer, songwriter and guitarist instead looking to the future.

Like so:

"When I'm old and withered/What will they say?/He was kind, gentle and funny/He played it safe."

Feuerstack need not worry about such faint praise. Indeed, they are already saying much more about the artist who since 1994 has been carefully constructing a body of melodic, fine-tuned original compositions of rare beauty. It's a catalogue so admired by Feuerstack's peers that Sappy Records recently released a Snailhouse tribute album, featuring interpretations of Feuerstack originals by the likes of John Tielli, The Acorn and Rick White.

It's the sort of achievement that does not come with playing it safe.

Kind, gentle and funny, perhaps.

"Well you know," a flattered if bemused Feuerstack says when asked for a comment on the project, "I guess I can add that to the resume.

"It is quite touching, and it's a good record. It's also pretty fascinating to listen to, for me. I've never really heard my songs covered before. I mean, they're kind of weird songs."

Weird and worthy. Lies on the Prize, meanwhile, an album that is essentially the work of Feuerstack and Arcade Fire pal Jeremy Gara, provides a fine headstart on material for the inevitable sequel. A dandy country-waltz (Salvation Army); a slice of soul (Superstitious); a mid-tempo folk-rock gem (O My God). Hell, Lies on the Prize serves as its own Snailhouse tribute.

And a fine tribute it is. Even if the man behind the music considers the songs "weird."

"Every time I've put out a record, I've wanted it to reach a big audience," Feuerstack nonetheless claims. "I always think that maybe this might be the one.

"But it's a long, slow battle. And I think that in the last five or maybe even 10 years, I've realized that I'm not going to stop doing this so I just have to find a way to continue. That's really my goal -- to work hard enough to make it popular enough to sustain itself. Beyond that all you can really do is cross your fingers. I mean, if you make good music you can find an audience and, if not thrive, at least get by."

In recent years, the man once a fixture on the local scene has been pursuing that struggle to "get by" in Montreal -- a city he claims offers "more to be inspired by and more to be intimidated by." He did, he notes however, relocate to Montreal for reasons musical.

"I've always had an attitude that I just live where it makes sense for me in terms of my life otherwise," Feuerstack explains. "Even if I live in the woods, I'm still going to make music. And when you make records you have to tour anyway, so it doesn't really matter where you live."

In many ways, though, Feuerstack lives in the songs of Snailhouse. Songs that detail life's failing and triumphs in the most delightful way. Songs that reflect the ever-evolving project of a kind, gentle and funny artist not content to play it safe.

"I describe it as like a body of work," Feuerstack says of Snailhouse. "It's a series of songs. Even though I've done shows and tours solo, I've never really wanted to be a troubadour or anything. It's my project, but it's highly collaborative. The common thread is songs."