Donovan Woods is not really the solid, secure man you might think you know through his thoughtful, deceptively soothing songs.
But he’s working on it.
“A lot of my songs are much more magnanimous than I am in real life,” said Wood, 43. “So I often am wrangling with that feeling of people thinking that I’m a very morally superior person, when in fact, the reality of me is not very close to that.”
Woods, a burly, bearded, soft-spoken Canadian who has been consistently releasing quality albums and touring since 2007 (except for the COVID years), recently released his new album, Things Were Never Good if They’re Not Good Now. It’s a typically solid offering from a writer who writes deeply personal songs, some of which work as mainstream country hits, like “Portland, Maine” for Tim McGraw.
Though modest and self-depreciating, Woods knows he’s come up with something special with “Back for the Funeral,” a song on the new album that captures the stage of life when the only time you see old friends is when one of them has died.
“After the service we’ll all meet up at the bar,” he sings. “Where my dad used to drink, now he just drinks in the yard/ And we’ll laugh about all the young dumb dreams we had/ And we’ll pretend we’re all only sad/ Because we’re back for the funeral.”
The song, written with Lori McKenna, is one of those that doesn’t seem like a new one. It feels familiar, like it’s always been there. McKenna had the title and it turned out Woods lived through the experience a few months earlier, when he returned home to Ontario to attend two funerals.
“Not all those details are exact, but I’m trying to get at that weird feeling of when you go home and you’re able to see it all at 30,000 feet for some reason, because you’re in the throes of grief,” he said.
In our exclusive BGS interview, we spoke about grief and mental health, poetry and Music Row songwriting, and more.
So I understand the new songs were influenced by therapy you underwent for your mental health. Is that true?
Yes. I’m as liberal as they come, but I think I still have this toxic masculinity in me. I do think that expressing need threatens my masculinity and it’s such a deep, ingrained thing in me. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I still do have those hang ups.
What kind of therapy did you have?
I had probably what would be considered a midlife crisis. … I felt like I was losing touch with my life slightly. I was unwell and I could tell [it was true] by the reaction of people in my life who weren’t particularly thrilled with me. I did some addiction therapy, I did some standard stuff and I did some couples therapy with my wife.
Like a lot of men, I wasn’t admitting when I was sad or when I was upset or when I was unhappy, because we love this image of this stoic individual that we’ve all grown up adoring — this unaffected, unflappable man. You’re trying to be that, because you think that’s the right thing to be for your family. I let that get away from me. I had become two guys, my internal self who knew that I was upset or hurt or I need something, and then this forward-facing person that I created, which was sort of a lie. I had to reunite those two things again, and I found it really difficult.
Your rather gentle singing sometimes belies the depth and the hurt in your lyrics. Is that an artistic choice you’re making?
That’s kind of just how my voice is. In the days before microphones, I don’t know that I would have been able to have this job. I don’t talk that loud or sing that loud, either. Singing is more like self-soothing to me than it is communication. I do it because I like it. It makes me feel good. When I’m stressed, I do it. It’s like being nice to myself.
Your lyrics are effective even separated from the music. Have you done any poetry or prose writing?
I appreciate that. My heroes are the people who are actually singing poets, like Paul Simon and John Prine. I feel like that’s what a singer-songwriter is at the core. … I will write poetry for myself now and then. I have tried to write short stories and I’m not good at it. I don’t know how to do long things. The idea that it can be anything is terrifying to me.
You must like Mark Cohn too, based on your cover of his “Don’t Talk to Her at Night” on the new album.
He’s kind of a high-water mark in songwriting for a lot of writers, especially men. There’s an elegance in his writing that is so unreachable to me. His American earnestness is not available to me as a Canadian. I always think I have to be self-deprecating or not showy in my writing. I think it’s just like the mindset of a Canadian. My dad is a big fan, and I have listened to him my whole life.
Do you have a family background that pointed you toward becoming an artist?
I grew up in a really working class town [Sarnia, Ontario], where everybody’s dad works in these petrochemical plants around the border of Michigan. My dad worked in construction estimating jobs. … My friends all work in petrochemical plants, or they work in adjacent fields to those plants. One of them is a chiropractor, which actually is adjacent to the petrochemical plants too, because everybody has a bad back in the entire city. … I was not a wonderfully artistic kid. I was given a guitar by my mom and I took like, four or five months of lessons. I just really enjoyed writing songs, and did it for myself for a decade before I ever did it publicly.
Is it true your dad named you after the folk singer Donovan?
I am. He’s one of my dad’s favorite singer-songwriters, along with Fred Eaglesmith. I got to tell [Donovan] that once, too. I’ve never seen anybody be less interested in something.
Do you still live in Canada with your family, or have you moved to one of the music industry cities in the states?
I have three kids. I have one ex-wife and my wife that I’m married to now. I live in Toronto mostly, and I’m in Nashville sometimes to write.
Do you do the Nashville writing thing where you have appointments and try to write hits with other writers?
I still have a publishing deal in Nashville, so I’m there writing sometimes with other people. I do it less than I used to, but I still enjoy that very much. I love other songwriters. It’s pretty rare that I don’t like a songwriter. So I enjoy that, that afternoon of trying to finish something.
And that’s worked out for you sometimes with hits, right?
There’s a song called “Grew Apart” that was a hit for Logan Mize. When somebody else wants to record one of your songs, that’s about as good of a compliment as you can get as a writer. It’s always really flattering. I hope [more of] that happens. … I mostly fail at writing Nashville songs. I fail like about 95% of the time.
You’ll be heading out on tour this fall to promote the new album. Are you looking forward to that?
I am always on the road more than I would like to be. But I’ve had much worse jobs. I enjoy 85% of it.
Photo Credit: Brittany Farhat
