A few days before interviewing singer/songwriter Luke Doucet, I began asking people if they had heard of him. I asked at work, at lectures, even on the streetcar going home. I offered a up few details about Doucet-his critically acclaimed debut album Aloha, Manitoba; member of surf-rockers Veal; a recent sold-out show at the Rivoli turned into a live album-but no one confirmed actually having heard his music, though a volunteer at last year’s North By Northeast festival who recognized the name offered this: there are a lot-with the emphasis on ‘a lot’-of underground Canadian acts doing really well for themselves that no one is even familiar with.
After reading the press releases by his record company Six Shooter Records and an article written in adoring terms by an author who seemed in with the musical ‘in-crowd,’ I was anxious picking up the receiver to interview Doucet. It wasn’t Luke’s own number, but rather a number where he could be reached at a specific time on a specific day-it could just as easily have been to a pay phone along the highway, playing off his image as a bit of an outsider (his current live record is called, appropriately enough, Outlaws).
The impression of a talented, socially perceptive drifter made me feel slightly out of depth. But in less than a minute on the phone, the interview moved comfortably along. Doucet’s soft, clear voice propelled his ideas with a natural momentum-there was nothing forced about his insight and the dexterity of his words.
On his website blog, the nomadic (he’s lived in Montreal, Winnipeg, and currently Toronto, though Veal was founded in Vancouver) Doucet’s sporadic entries in late 2004 report a busy life of trans-Atlantic travel (he’s the touring guitarist in Sarah McLachlan’s band), production sessions in about 15 studios, and technical work on his upcoming album. Although this scope of engagement suggests a solitary approach, Luke’s actual process relies on a deliberately inverse relationship between control and collaboration.
To escape “mid-recording hubris”-the faulty impression of genius during a heavy schedule-Doucet has other musicians and engineers listen to his demos.
“I listen to recordings, which at the time were brilliant, a few months later and just cringe,” he laughs.
Performance, on the other hand, relies on the trust between musicians-consider a recent show at the Rivoli. The trio there included two drummers. Why? Doucet says he distinctly did not want to add a traditional third piece (such as a saxophone or keyboardist), though he wasn’t looking to follow in the footsteps of other two-drummer bands. He invited two well-respected drummers to play, and conveys bemused satisfaction with the gig.
“When two drummers come together, and they understand the space they occupy, they actually each play less than they might ordinarily do, but the two lesser halves becomes a fuller whole.”
Such openness reinforces Doucet’s image as an “outlaw.” A highly nimble musician who isn’t content to play the popularity game, his personality and craft resist pigeonholing.
“Why is it that musicians are the only sub-genre of artists that have to maintain a palatable public persona that is completely irrelevant to the work we create?” Doucet writes in his blog. Does this mean he considers his own press disingenuous?
Luke explains the disdain in his blog entry was inspired by artists like Phil Collins and Dire Straits, both of whom put out influential videos in the early ’80s, the latter gaining attention for their groundbreaking animation. In the ’60s and ’70s, “some of those guys were ugly,” Doucet notes. “And when you look at a group like The Strokes, they’re all good-looking-that’s no mistake.
“I can’t get an apartment if I’m honest about what I do,” he continues, elaborating on the ‘outlaw’ concept. “I haven’t unpacked my suitcase in months-years, really. I do have an album and a song titled Outlaw,” he says, but by and large doesn’t define himself by the term.
Asked about songwriting, which he addresses in his candid blog entries, he says, “I don’t think my stories are particularly unique; what I want is a new way of telling an old story.”
A self-deprecating lyricist, he points out narrative as something he needs to improve on. “Music is about sounds, melodies and timing,” he says simply, underscoring his cerebral and intuitive approach to his craft.
Which prompted in my mind the unasked question that Luke nevertheless seemed to answer throughout our conversation: What does it take for a veteran of the scene to finally break through? His awareness and creative resourcefulness clearly seem to suggest that Luke Doucet is working towards finding an answer through his music.
Luke Doucet plays the Trinity-St. Paul Centre (427 Bloor St. W.) this Friday, Jan. 14. Tickets are $15 at Soundscapes, Rotate This, Maplemusic.com, and Ticketmaster.
