It can be a little discouraging," Julie Doiron says with a sigh. Is the Eric's Trip alumnus talking about:
A) Touring?
B) Releasing several endearing CDs over a 10-year period while remaining relatively unknown?
C) Life?
The correct answer is A. (More on that later.)
But it could as easily be all of the above for the prolific artist with the seemingly permanently-broken heart.
Certainly, the title of Doiron's latest album Goodnight Nobody suggests this is not going to be the feel-good album of the summer.
Mind you, it all depends on what makes you feel good. And if it's sweetly-sung bittersweet tales from a soul as vulnerable as you or I, Goodnight Nobody can bring on a very good, very warm feeling indeed.
It's the sort of album that begs for a hug, but that will embrace you and stay with you in return.
Not unlike the remainder of Doiron's catalogue, which includes a Juno-winning collaboration with Ottawa's Wooden Stars.
That relationship, a happier one than can be found in the bulk of Doiron's compositions, has proved a lasting one -- lasting longer, in fact, than the recently reunited Stars themselves.
Hence, this Friday Doiron will open her heart to patrons at Club SAW in the company of former Wooden Star Michael Feuerstack, a.k.a. Snailhouse. Feuerstack, whose exquisite and long-delayed CD The Silence Show finally saw release this week through Scratch Recordings, will join Doiron for her set in addition to performing a solo set of his own.
At least, that's the tentative plan. As we speak, Doiron admits she and Feuerstack have yet to rehearse.
They likely won't rehearse, in fact, until the pair meet up in Montreal this week. (Feuerstack left Ottawa for Montreal a couple of years ago; Doiron lived there for six years until again settling in her native New Brunswick a year ago.)
"I imagine we'll figure it out in the car," Doiron nonchalantly says.
"From Montreal to Ottawa is not a long trip, but it should give us time to go over a few things. I like to be pretty spontaneous these days anyway."
She cites as an example her last Ottawa performance, also at Club SAW, during which Jeremy Gara -- then of Kepler, now of The Arcade Fire -- joined her for an impromptu set.
Given Doiron and Feuerstack's fertile minds, there is no reason to believe this concert will be any less magical.
It's been nine years since Doiron emerged from the wreckage of Eric's Trip, the Moncton-based band whose influence on Canada's indie-rock scene of the early '90s is incalculable.
She immediately established a reputation for wearing her heart on her sleeve, calling herself Broken Girl. The name was temporary; the melancholy longterm.
At least in song. Doiron continues to mine the depths of despair on Goodnight Nobody, a sublime album recorded partly in Ottawa with producer Dave Draves.
Offstage, she and husband Jon Claytor are doing just fine, safely home again in small-town New Brunswick with their children.
On the heels of a brief Eric's Trip reunion, Doiron has left even that turmoil behind and is prepared to work with former bandmate Rick White on her next album.
Meanwhile, she continues to tour, annually criss-crossing Canada but largely forsaking the States in favour of friendlier markets such as Europe.
"The U.S. is hard," she observes. "I neglected the U.S. for quite a few years. But in Canada things are finally getting comfortable for me. I think I've finally become a significant name of sorts -- though not one that translates into record sales."
That, she concedes, may never happen, despite the beauty of albums like Goodnight Nobody.
"Somehow, it's easier in Europe. In countries where English is not the first language they appreciate the emotion behind the songs.
"In Canada, I don't think my music is 'safe' enough. Or some people might just find it boring. You know, it's not Eric's Trip.
"For years, I would always get, 'Julie's fine but we want her to rock out.' Well, there's more to music than rocking out; though, I think I did it on Goodnight Nobody ... in my own way."
