by Darren Clarke, October 15, 2021
In 2009 the mayor of Bruno, Saskatchewan proclaimed June 7, 2009 as “Julie Doiron Day.”
What else should I tell you about Julie Doiron?
I could tell you Julie Doiron played bass for 90’s alternative pioneers, New Brunswick’s, Eric’s Trip. I could tell you that she won a Juno Award for the album she made with The Wooden Stars in 2000. I could tell you that she was a guest artist on the Tragically Hip’s, My Music at Work and three Gord Downie albums. I could tell you that she’s crafted gorgeous collaborative works with Okkervil River and Mount Eerie. I could tell you that she has had to work really hard to eke out a modest living making music while being a mother of four kids. I could tell you a bunch more things I read in interviews with her. I don’t know though, it just doesn’t seem to do her justice or inform the magic that your ears are in for if you dive into her music.
What Julie Doiron offers us all is an easy gateway to the sweetspot in every damned day. Doiron’s beguiling creations are perhaps best absorbed while sprawled on your bed, eyes closed, when you most need warm, welcoming, salvation, from the seemingly pointless demands of the world around you. But it doesn’t have to be a complicated or grandiose love. Indeed, listening to Doiron’s musical offerings is largely hallmarked by how beautifully simple the engagement is.
Doiron’s music is a box of crayons when you are seven. It is the first time you had ice cream. It is a genuine smile from a stranger when you least expected it and most needed it. It is music delivered in its purest form, unaffected by sleight of production hand, missed notes left to dangle deliciously, her voice gliding effortlessly from quiet whispers to imperfectly-perfect, sweet and sour, derring-do. The effect is to slow your heart down to just the right rhythm so that every breath feels like a cure for everything delivered just in the nick of time to protect you from anything.
I could tell you more stuff but seriously, why would you need more than that? Why would you need you need more than the music?
Everyday should be Julie Doiron Day someplace and if it can’t be, at least, for your own sake, let it be at your place.
The Left Field Lark 