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The daytime talk-show circuit beckons.
The Edmonton Sun alone has interviewed her 13 times since 1993, not counting album and concert reviews. With a new CD called Greatest Hurts, a greatest hits of hurtin' songs, she's back yet again, performing tomorrow and Monday at the Winspear Centre with the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra, or what it is they're called while on strike and not officially playing as the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra.
Whatever.
Jann always has something interesting or funny to say. In the nine years we've known her, she's grown from a singer of sad love songs in lounges to a singer of sad love songs in halls filled with thousands of people. Local fans never seem to tire of Arden's mesmerizing meld of melancholy and mirth, this blurb brought to you by the letter "M.'' She never wears out her welcome.
OK, so we're a little tired of Could I Be Your Girl. In truth, so is she.
"I heard myself in Home Depot the other day. It was Could I Be Your Girl. Those are always proud moments for me,'' she deadpans. "I was buying light fixtures and I ended up buying a bulk pack of gaff tape, too.''
For the famous Arden Diner in Calgary, no doubt. This week's special: Some kind of breaded whitefish. She also finds time to learn how to play the piano.
Her love life is "non-existent, thanks for bringing that up.''
And she often visits her brother at the Bowden Institution, where he's doing life for murder.
"He's quit smoking and he's doing great,'' she says. "It's not like they f---ing give them Nicorette gum in there, is it? Here, buddy, have the patch! Smuggle some in. Psst, hey, the postage stamp is actually a nicotine patch.''
From such a vantage point, Jann has become a keen observer of the human condition, not that she wasn't before, but during this recent chat, she seemed, you know, "deeper.''
The female Leonard Cohen, though not as scary as that sounds. Perhaps some of her observations will end up in songs. Perhaps not.
For example, "I actually saw two homeless people having sex in the middle of the day,'' Arden says. "Drunk out of their minds, under this cardboard thing under a bridge in Toronto. That wasn't pleasant. At first I thought someone was being mugged, and then I realized, no, that's a bum in the air.
"Jann, keep walking, I chuckled to myself. Well, everybody's got to find their little piece of heaven. But man, it was noon! It was in the middle the street! Who do you call? Hello, I'd like to report an ass on Yonge Street?''
Keep listening for a new song called Little Piece of Heaven. Or not.
One thing that definitely won't end up in Jann Arden songs is politics. "I'm a sappy love song writer,'' she insists, though she may be joking. Still, the observations are powerful.
"I just got back from New York, saw the large crater left in the earth by a couple of aircraft. You have to get these tickets. They only let like 350 people an hour go out onto this platform to look down at the people working, clearing all the rubble.
"Everybody's bawling. Your heart sinks. There was this guy standing there, probably 45, beautiful, handsome man with a long dress coat and he was crying so hard.
"My friend and I sort of came up with this whole story of where he was from and who he was. I bet you he was in there and got out.
"He was crying so hard two police officers came up and took Kleenexes out of their jackets, which I thought was so cute. So they propped him up there and tried to escort him off, because he was kicking this board.
"I was doing all right till I saw that ...
"Now,'' she goes on, "The biggest problem in the world is Olympic figure skating. That's how life goes - from one tragedy to the next.''
From One Tragedy to the Next. Hmmm. Sounds like a good title for the inevitable Jann Arden boxed set.