The 2018 Polaris Music Prize winner discusses his highly anticipated sophomore album, Motewolonuwok
CBC Indigenous: “Oh my God, that’s such another interview.”
Jeremy Dutcher and I are nearing the end of an hour-long chat on the rooftop of Toronto’s Array Space, and he lets slip that he had considered quitting music a couple of times in recent years. He nervously laughs, but vaguely admits, “It’s just all these things that happen in our lives that kind of shake us or try to put us off our path, or not even try, but they end up making us ask questions of ourselves.”
That and of course a global pandemic. “I had constructed many, many years of my life around performing shows,” he continues. “That’s my method of connecting with people, and all of a sudden, you don’t do that for two years. So if it never comes back, then I guess I [just] make music for my friends and my family now, and it’s not my day job.”
But the physical space we’re speaking in is a clear sign that Dutcher’s path has yet to be diverted. He’s in the middle of rehearsing for an upcoming tour behind his highly anticipated sophomore release, Motewolonuwok, the followup to his acclaimed debut, Wolastoqiyik Lintuwakonawa. It’ll take him across the country over the course of eight weeks, ensuring that Dutcher will most definitely continue his work of connecting with people through live performance, a practice that he sees as “enriching ourselves, spiritually,” pointing at not just himself, but also the audience. While there are some expected nerves — for instance, he remarks on the hardships of maintaining a healthy diet while on the road — it’s the job that Dutcher is meant to do.
In just five years, Dutcher has become one of Canada’s most distinguished musicians, putting Wolastoqey, the language of the Wolastoqiyik people (who have long resided in New Brunswick and Quebec), on an international platform. Wolastoqiyik Lintuwakonawa, a project featuring classically informed reinterpretations of traditional Wolastoqey music, earned the now-Montreal-based artist the 2018 Polaris Music Prize and a 2019 Juno Award for Indigenous music album of the year. It also led to collaborations with Buffy Sainte-Marie, Beverly Glenn-Copeland and Yo-Yo Ma.
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“Not a lot of non-French or English albums have even scratched the public imagination,” he points out. “So it’s exciting to be in that very small percentage of people to bring our language into that space, and the conversation about revitalization into that space.” There are now less than 100 fluent speakers of Wolastoqey in the world, and Dutcher’s work to preserve and promote the language has extended beyond his music in recent years as he helped his mother, Lisa Perley-Dutcher, set up the first-ever Wolastoqey immersion school, based in Fredericton.
“I always had a very singular focus and purpose for the first record,” he says, grateful for the external accolades, but clarifying that the album was made for his community, offering Wolastoqey songs back to his people. “That’s my metric of success.”
While he can confidently say that he succeeded in doing that, he confesses that Wolastoqiyik Lintuwakonawa was also “a bit of an arm’s length project.” On Motewolonuwok, Dutcher wants to simultaneously amplify the sound of his debut album — employing a full choir and an expanded orchestra, the latter of which was led by Owen Pallett — and also zoom in, as he demonstrates with his thumb and index fingers, miming the motion of zooming in on a photo on your phone. “It’s in that same kind of sonic world,” he says, “but it’s just a zoomed-in version of it.”
Motewolonuwok is bigger and more ambitious, paralleling the flourishing trajectory of the Indigenous Renaissance that Dutcher proclaimed we were in the midst of when he stood onstage in 2018 to accept the Polaris Music Prize. “This is all part of a continuum of Indigenous excellence,” he said, concluding his speech that night, “and you are here to witness it. I welcome you.”
Reflecting on that moment, Dutcher says, “At that time, when I looked out, I just saw so much coming up from our community, and that it deserved to be celebrated. I think now is no different.” He lists examples like the FX series Reservation Dogs and Kim O’Bomsawin’s series Telling Our Story, which premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival last month (and Dutcher stars in), as some recent examples. “It’s only getting richer and deeper and wider,” he says. “When Indigenous people can fully be seen in our breadths and in our expansive expressions…. that will be the true test of it all.”
While progress is being made, Dutcher is aware that we’re only in the infancy of this Renaissance: “I was back home hearing this Mohawk elder speak, and he said it’s going to take 300 years. It’s not going to be tomorrow, it’s probably not going to be in our lifetime. But that kind of peace that we’re going to be able to build together over that 300 years, I think it’s going to last until the end of time. So that’s the kind of stuff that gets me out of bed in the morning.”
‘A fountain of inspiration and insulation from a world that’s kind of hard on us’
The linguist in Dutcher jumps out when we’re talking. He’s quick to correct or tweak questions and phrases to ensure accuracy, and he often stares off and pauses in search of the right words, as if they’re floating in front of him, waiting to be plucked out of the air. When I ask if he was surprised by the critical response to Wolastoqiyik Lintuwakonawa, he laughs and jokes, “Imagine I said no? I knew it would slam!” But his consideration for language comes from an understanding that words build bridges, and even one misplaced verb or adjective could threaten to undo important work that he has devoted his life to.
It’s partially why he has described the act of including English songs for the first time on Motewolonuwok as a risk. “I don’t want to let my community down,” he says, of his departure from Wolastoqey, although his new album is a considerate split between the two languages. “Language revitalization is, and will continue to be, a part of my story forever.” But with the sudden surge of attention he received from Wolastoqiyik Lintuwakonawa — and the non-Indigenous ears he attracted — Motewolonuwok is Dutcher’s opportunity to purposefully communicate with a wider audience for the first time: “Why not be direct with them?”
The first English words we hear on Motewolonuwok come on the album’s third track. Over a gentle piano intro, Dutcher extends a literal welcome to listeners: “Take my hand/ Walk with me.” It’s a message of love that was passed on to him by his mentor and elder, Maggie Paul, who first guided him to the Wolastoqey wax cylinders at the Canadian Museum of History that inspired Wolastoqiyik Lintuwakonawa. Dutcher says this was Paul’s first time singing to him in English (“It’s kind of a trip to hear her singing that way,”) and that she then tasked him to “sing this for the young people — they’re forgetting how to love each other.”
That one verse Paul offered him sat around for a while until he shared it with friend, Montreal singer-songwriter Basia Bulat, who went off and wrote seven additional verses for Dutcher to use as he pleased, making this track a result of collaboration and community. It uses English to honour the Wolastoqey language while also asking for a common ground, as he sings on the track: “Take my hand, but not my light/ The words that we find are new.”
The album’s lead single, “Ancestors Too Young,” was the first track Dutcher ever wrote in English. Sonically, it stands out from the rest of the record’s orchestral grandeur (featuring, as Dutcher describes it, “a crunchy guitar,”) and lyrically, it lays bare the suicide crisis at the intersection of Dutcher’s Indigenous and queer communities. (Dutcher identifies as two-spirit and queer, something he brings to the fore on Motewolonuwok.) “All the lyrics from [‘Ancestors Too Young’] are coming from just hearing people talk about that experience of loss, experiencing that in my own way, and trying to interpret that,” he says, referring to a trip he took to Northern Ontario where he listened to parents share the story of losing their child to suicide.
Dutcher shares a quote from Lydia Nibley’s 2009 documentary, Two Spirits, that not only guided his process while writing and recording Motewolonuwok, but is perhaps best embodied on this specific track: “The place where two discriminations meet is a dangerous place to live.” Violence of all kinds have pervaded both Indigenous and queer spaces, leading to generational losses of elders who are no longer physically here to guide the young. It’s a hard intersection to exist in, Dutcher admits. “We can get down on ourselves and not realize that there’s actually magic there that exists,” he notes. “You’re a medicine as you come in and offer that to people.”
As a person and a musician, Dutcher is a beacon of hope. He’s constantly in search of beauty, looking to celebrate what little it can feel like there is with the deep belief that, with time, that it will grow into something bigger and even more beautiful. We all have a story of resilience, Dutcher reminds us, and it’s about “tapping into that as a fountain of inspiration and insulation from a world that’s kind of hard on us.”
Motewolonuwok ends with a lush farewell and a reminder to “rise in beauty,” to forge a path forward with grace. In an increasingly divisive world, where “it can feel really comforting and good to pat ourselves on the back or feel really good about the progress we’ve made — and maybe a little judgemental of those over there that aren’t making as much progress,” as Dutcher says, approaching life with compassion requires effort and strength, but it’s necessary for our collective futures.
“Never second guess your experience and what you see to be not correct,” he advises. “And don’t be scared to call it out, but as you do it, do it in beauty. Really make sure what you offer is putting forward a love and beauty that will make even the hardest message go through.
“It’s an important part of this whole message, ensuring that, as we’re in this revelatory, revolutionary time with Indigenous people standing up and claiming our rights and being strong about asserting what we know to be true, I think we also need to have humility in that voice and keep extending that hand in invitation.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Melody Lau, Producer, CBC Music
Melody Lau is a Toronto-based writer for CBC Music. She can be found on Twitter @MelodyLamb or email melody.lau@cbc.ca.