If Memory Serves You Well, 24-year-old singer/songwriter Serena Ryder’s major label debut, a collection of Canadian songwriter classics, that range from a sunny acoustic version of Hair hit “Good Morning, Starshine” to a honky-tonk rendition of the Bob Dylan classic “This Wheel’s On Fire,” all transformed to suit the hickory-smoked lushness of Serena’s vocals. The Varsity caught up with the Canadian chanteuse between the east and west coast legs of her 2007 spring tour, to discuss the craft of song-writing, chilling in Randy Bachman’s tour bus, and why time doesn’t exist.

The Varsity: Firstly, do you feel like it’s an odd choice to predominately feature material from other songwriters when you are one yourself, especially for your major label debut?

Serena Ryder: I think it’s important to realize, and this is something that I’ve been dealing with myself, that art doesn’t belong to anybody. When I write a song, while at the time I’ve written it for myself, afterwards it’s no longer necessarily about my story. I would never actually claim to own any of my own music.
This record is about paying homage to the singer-songwriters that who have paved the way for me to be where I am today and where I’m going. Even Bob Dylan started out covering Woody Guthrie songs for the first seven, eight years of his career, you know? There’s a tendency today for musicians to sound entirely unique and this erases the possibility of a real connection. Songs are created when an artist needs a listener to know how they’re feeling. And how are you supposed to do that if you’re trying to be the only one who’s going through what you’re going through or sounds the way you sound? We all came from somewhere.

V: And where do you see yourself in that continuing tradition?

SR: Trying to be as open and honest as possible in my songwriting process and with myself. I want to show people that what we experience, we can experience together, as a culture. It’s not impossible to recreate our reality.

V: On your last tour, you opened for songster legends Randy Bachman and Burton Cummings of The Guess Who. Care to shed some light on the experience?

SR: It was pretty amazing. I was switching back and forth from both their buses for the duration of the tour. Randy’s tour bus was all about waking up really early in the morning, seeing the sunset and like, having organic coffee. And talking about the history of songwriting and who he’s connected to directly-he loves songwriting so much. I was blessed to be able to work with him on a track (“Out Of The Blue”) for my album. And now we Blackberry each other when we’re on the road-which is so surreal.
Burt is still such a rock star. He also looks great for his age, which is amazing considering, well…. He was constantly telling stories, like “Oh back in bla-bla-bla, when I was hanging out with Jim Morrison…” There are so many similarities between the generation of musicians coming up and the ones that have passed. It was fascinating to discover how it all began.

V: Do you feel that there’s something to prove with your album? Higher stakes perhaps?
SR: I feel that by saying you’re trying to prove something, there’s a connotation of trying to change someone’s mind. And for me, this record doesn’t have to convince anyone of anything. It’s about making them realize that they have everything with them all of the time and that it’s not about effort or getting better or ownership or any of those things… it’s about…timelessness. I don’t believe that time exists. I don’t think anyone else should.

V: Really?

SR: Yeah, I think it’s something that we made up. I mean, I don’t believe that time exists but I’m always asking what time it is. It’s a constant contradiction.