Julie Doiron – I Can Wonder What You Did With Your Day

Presenter

Jade Nobbs

Published

Monday 6th July

Jagjaguwar

Something of a cult figure in Canadian alt-rock circles, Julie Doiron has carved out a peculiar niche in the indie rock landscape, starting out as the bass player in highly regarded post-psychedelic rock outfit Eric’s Trip in the early 90s, and subsequently developing her own signature solo aesthetic, combining lo-fi grunge with delicate folk and indie pop elements, as well as taking the occasional foray into the smoky realm of the French chanteuse.

Of course, this is all very easy to do if you’re one of those exotic, sophisticated and innately trendy creatures known as a French Canadian, who seem—in alternative music at any rate—to embody an unlikely synthesis of the French flair for cultural refinement and innovation, with a modest self-deprecation of expression which is all the more impressive for its elegance.

On her latest album, I Can Wonder What You Did With Your Day, this aesthetic formula, as well as the ongoing maturation of Doiron’s own particular approach, is saliently articulated. There are moments of Moldy Peaches-esque acoustic folk whimsy (‘The Life of Dreams’, ‘Glad To Be Alive’ and ‘Nice To Come Home’); moments of lo-fi grunge pop brilliance (‘Spill Yer Lungs’, ‘Heavy Snow’, and ‘Consolation Prize’); moments of seamless folk-rock fusion (‘Lovers of the World’ and ‘Borrowed Minivans’), and moments of French-styled (if not always French language) chanson (‘Tailor’, ‘Je Le Savais’ and ‘Blue’), all of which encompass the breadth of Doiron’s impressive sonic palette. Throughout the album as a whole, however, there is a tone of studied simplicity and sophisticated rusticity that is utterly beguiling, and which perhaps sums up neatly the fascinating cultural paradox of French Canadian-ness.

Strangely, the album also seems to evoke a certain abstract visual reference, or quality of light, perhaps evocative of the landscape of Doiron’s native New Brunswick: a rugged coastline in sepia tones, long windswept grass at dusk, or the aspect of a dirt road viewed through the open door of a disused wooden barn. A moving and evocative release that lends the term ‘rock’ a certain folk nobility, and the term ‘folk’ a bit of rock royalty.