Jason Collett looks pissed. He’s brooding as he takes to the stage at Richard’s on Richard’s, the venerable Vancouver nightclub the day after Halloween. It would be easy to assume that his anger stems from a hangover, as the small crowd does. Though his desperately casual blend of folk and roots rock appeases the sparse crowd, only a month later standing outside yet another Vancouver club waiting for the doors to open do I learn what had him irked that night.
“Man, I was pissed. I still am. The club double booked us with some burlesque night. We had to cram three bands into two and a half hours. That’s why we’re back here. We had tons of angry fans emailing us who’d missed the gig. Even though our managers were telling us we couldn’t return so soon, we had to come back as soon as we could and get them on the guestlist.”
True enough, the Media Club feels more like a fan-club show than a make-up gig. Old plush couches line the room and the stage is small enough for that frog from Looney Tunes to hop on and belt out a few choice numbers. But for Collett’s intoxicating and addictive down-trodden melodies, reminiscent of Blood On the Tracks-era Dylan, the Media Club is the perfect fit. I spoke to Collett early in the evening, which is probably the best time to get to know him.
Jason Collett’s latest record, the 2008 release Here’s To Being Here (Arts & Crafts) is a marvelous thing; it’s personal enough to put on when drinking with friends becomes an option. It begs for authenticity through conversation. He pens lyrics like “The perennial fatigue of the times/when you’re long in the tooth/short in the sleeve/there’s nowhere left to hide” which let you into a world you only feel like sharing with your best friend. All this coming from a guy with three children. And when he’s not getting personal, he’s still littering his albums with references to joints and cigarettes.
“I’m a writer…I live in a few different worlds. Yes, I have a family and my domestic life is very different than my life on the road. But um…(Pauses)…maybe they’re not all that different. What I write about can be very personal, but it doesn’t have to be about me. Yet at the same time, vices are quite prevalent in the world that I live in. I write about them not so much in an intentional way. I’m not trying to romanticize them but they’re just a part of me.”
A topic like his legacy as a song writer might freak out aging prospects or provide young rock and roll upstarts with an unnecessary ego boost. Yet Collett remains deathly observant, studying me as I drive through each question and staring into his hands as he ponders each response. Answers are eventually delivered poignantly and honestly. Something else soon becomes overwhelmingly clear; Collett is thankful for where he is. Not just sitting in a dank Vancouver club at 6 PM on a Wednesday but as a touring musician in general, one who was one of the first batch of ringers in Toronto’s indie supergroup, Broken Social Scene.
“(Touring ) is a matter of keeping perspective. A lot of musicians never know this as a lot of them have never had real jobs. Touring is not a real job; it’s a fucking luxury. Slamming drywall, that’s a job. If you’ve got any sense of that then you realize you’re blessed.”
And if anyone should know, it’s Collett. Born in a banal Toronto suburb, Collett found singer-songwriters such as Nick Lowe and Kris Kristofferson as a means to escape suburbia. Moving to downtown Toronto at a young age, he wrote songs while paying the bills as a carpenter. And his everyman approach soon paid off; he was invited to join Broken Social Scene who in 2002 were turning heads as pre-eminent soundmakers on the Canadian indie scene.
From there, Collett harnessed his own voice as a soulful and greasy cat, releasing his first solo album, Bitter Beauty in 2001. His breakthrough came after leaving BSS in 2005 when he released his first album on Arts & Crafts entitled Idols of Exile. Collett painted his life as a lonely one. While duets with Leslie Feist (The chugging, last gasp of air “Hangover Days”) were full of promise, the album suffered by sounding uneven and unsure. As his backing band was comprised of Broken Social Scene, Idols Of Exile listens now as a rushed effort hampered by a band which couldn’t full recognize Collett’s vision.
Cue two years of constant touring with his new backing band, Paso Mino and his follow-up, Here’s To Being Here an album title taken from a book of poems given to him by BSS vocalist Emily Haines. And it’s fitting, Here’s To Being Here is a confident sounding record, baring a sound that relies as much on effortless piano-driven grooves as it does on thrifty, banjo-laden numbers. “No Redemption Song” (“Staying stoned on highway 401/in a band of southern Ontario bastard sons”) seems crafted out of a sunset while “I’m Not Over You” sounds like it could have appeared on a stripped down Born To Run.
A prevalent member of the Toronto indie music scene, an album title such as Here’s To Being Here could easily be perceive as nationalistic as frozen beaver shit being used as hockey pucks. But what of the country Collett grew up in, the country he crossed East to West for the first time this fall? His 28 date tour surely would have rendered Jacques Cartier (Canadians learn about Columbus and Americans ought to Google Cartier) settling for less. For a dude like Collett, with more than enough kilometers logged across other countries, this would be a life-altering tour. Infamous Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper recently approved a $40 Million cut in funding to the arts in Canada. So in a time when art has never been more vital to Canada’s cultural landscape, I wondered what Collett learnt about the role of arts in Canada throughout his tour.
“I’ve been trying to figure (The arts in Canada) out for a number of years. The relationship between artists and Canada is a thorny one. Our history is such that…well, Los Angeles has the third largest population of Canadians. And that says a lot. You hit the ceiling quickly in this country. And simply because of the geography. But there’s almost something about the Canadian character. And I don’t have an answer to this, but our neighbour simply looms so large on the cultural landscape. It overshadows so much. Canadians typically have to go away to be celebrated.”
Collett continued to wax on the unbelievable amount of talent in Toronto yet how little industry there is to facilitate the talent before begrudgingly admitting the opposite to be true in Los Angeles. He acknowledged how hard it is for Canadian musicians to make a name for themselves and how hard it was for him.
“But the thing that I value about the business of being an artist in Canada is that it’s not easy. And maybe it shouldn’t be.”
The lessons learned would all become apparent at the Media Club. Opening with “Waiting For The World” as casual as a summer breeze (Though not nearly as clichéd) he slouched from the side of the bar to the stage with very little fanfare.
He holds a lofty figure onstage, with a look that isn’t quite overpowering as much as it is one of a troubadour. Collett remains calm, singing without batting or opening an eye. As Collett told me, “You have to be able to figure out how to not overanalyze things. You’re always trying to find that naïve space where there’s a sense of wonder about what you’re doing. You’re tapping into the very moment it’s being created, whether it’s a song or whatever. Then you’re in the same place as the audience is and that’s the ideal place to be, because then you’re sharing a moment.” It’s Elvis if he would’ve eaten right and taken stock of his surroundings by rafting songs for lovers and not just people who want to be in love.
Before “Hangover Days,” Collett laments politely about how $100 and a fresh pack of smokes were just lifted from the backstage area. He wonders out loud if he’s cursed in Vancouver, but unfortunately it’s tough to take him seriously. His sense of anger is trounced by this uplifting tale of Sundays and slowly, Collett falls victim to the tune as well.
Things never exactly boil over at the Media Club. The crowd remained perfectly responsive and obliged with a personal level of affection. Collett blends country and rock and roll music for people who gave up on both long ago. It’s acoustic guitars that swirl into one magnificent sound without hokey undertones. He grooves with a twitch; as the bass creeps louder and Wednesday night begins to take hold, Collett falls low to the stage in an effort to heed the call of the bass. The 2nd night in Vancouver already sounds better. As his set crashes to a close, Collett thanks the crowd for returning and insists that despite what booking agents and managers claimed, it was worth the trouble to get back to his fans. Though the road ahead seems wrought with possible hazards, it’s a road Collett is happy to be on. Turns out he isn’t such an angry dude after all.
Live photos by Doug Seymour
