The Small Glories Share Canadian Stories in Song

When it’s mentioned that the word “ambassador” comes to mind when listening to the Small Glories’ new album, Cara Luft starts to cheer. Along with her singing partner JD Edwards, the Small Glories see themselves as Canadian storytellers, like troubadours going from town to town singing about the world around them.

Truly, the Manitoba-based folk duo’s latest, Assiniboine & The Red, gives special insight into their unique worldview with songs like “Alberta,” “Winnipeg,” and “Don’t Back Down.” Chatting by phone, Luft shared a few more stories with the Bluegrass Situation.

BGS: It’s been a few year since you’ve made a record. What was the vibe in the studio when you were making this one?

CL: It was interesting in that we got everybody back together again. The only thing that changed was our engineer — and he’s a friend of ours. We had the same producer (Neil Osborne) and the same rhythm section, which was great. We actually recorded it in Winnipeg, and it was nice to be in our hometown. You know what was so funny? It was April but it was freezing cold. It was one of those moments like, “Oh my God, we live in Canada.” It’s April 15 and it’s minus 15 degrees, which is ridiculous! It was freezing! So, I remember being very cold!

This is for the Bluegrass Situation, so we have to talk about the banjo.

We do! [Laughs]

Tell me what attracted you to the banjo in the first place.

I grew up in a folk-singing family. My parents were a professional folk duo and played music when they were younger, too. My dad is a wonderful clawhammer banjo player. He’s been playing for close to sixty years now. So I grew up listening to the banjo, never thinking that I’d actually want to play it, but I did love the sound of it. I think it was kind of inevitable that I would pick it up. And of course it’s not the three-finger bluegrass style, even though I love that style. I don’t really play that but I do love the sound of the banjo.

And I love writing with it. It’s such a different instrument than the guitar. I really was guitar-focused for most of my career. I picked up the banjo nine years ago and I found it really fascinating to change the way my right hand worked, because it’s a different movement than if you’re doing fingerstyle guitar. And just having that drone string, I find that it’s like no other instrument that I’ve ever attempted playing. It’s this beautiful string that just rings out. I found it a very interesting way to write. I write differently on the banjo than I do on the guitar, so it’s brought me into a wider perspective of songs to write, I would say.

How are the songs different that you’re writing on banjo?

I would say I’m writing more tune-based songs on the banjo. As a guitar play, I am a really strong rhythm player and I would do the odd lick here and there, you know, coming up with something, but I wasn’t really a lead player on guitar. I would do some fingerstyle stuff, in more of the realm of those folkie fingerstyle guys like Bert Jansch and John Renbourn, but not really tune-based. The banjo is definitely much more tune-based for me. I write melodies on the banjo, where I never really wrote melodies on guitar before. I would sing a melody but I wouldn’t necessarily play a melody, so it’s been really beautiful to explore this melodic writing on a banjo.

I read an interview about how you loved the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band’s Will the Circle Be Unbroken as a kid. I was curious how that might have impacted your music.

Yeah! For me, growing up in a folk-singing family, there was music all the time in the house, whether it was listening to vinyl or listening to my parents rehearse, or listening to people play house concerts, or musicians who were traveling through town and rehearsing in our living room. So I was steeped in acoustic music from a very, very young age, whether it was live or recorded.

I remember listening to Will the Circle Be Unbroken, with the Carter Family and all these phenomenal people. There’s a track on there, “Soldier’s Joy,” with two banjo players, and one is playing clawhammer and one is playing three-finger, and to this day it’s still one of my favorite songs to listen to. I think it’s just the beauty of acoustic music and the history of acoustic music, whether it’s bluegrass or folk – and to me, the lines are a little blurred there. But that album in particular, I remember listening to it all through high school and even into my early 20s.

When I listen to “Don’t Back Down,” I can hear a sense of strength in there. What was on your mind when you wrote that song?

I wrote that with Bruce Guthro, who’s a great singer-songwriter, but he’s also lead singer of a group called Runrig, a great Scottish band, even though he’s from Canada. We wrote that as part of a collaboration where we were given the theme of writing around “home,” or what we would consider calling “home.” Bruce is from Cape Breton Island, which is in Nova Scotia, way out in the Maritime Provinces. It’s known for its musical history, but it’s also known for communities that are dying because either mining has stopped or fishing has stopped. So these people would be moving away from their communities, trying to find homes and work in other locations.

I was talking to him about being from the Canadian prairies, where there are quite a few areas in Saskatchewan that are full of ghost towns, where people have uprooted and moved to cities like Calgary or Edmonton, or Fort McMurray where the oil sands are. We were comparing notes about these communities that are dying, and what is it like for those who decide to stay? They don’t want to give up on all the things that hit them, right? They stick around during the dust bowl or when the fires come, when work has dried up and people are trying to find a way to make a living. So we thought, “Let’s write a song to honor those people who have decided to make it work in their home communities.”

Speaking of home, your song “Winnipeg” is such a love letter to your hometown. I noticed as that song progresses, there is another voice that comes in. Can you tell me more about that?

Yes, we have two guest vocalists on that track. Winnipeg has a huge indigenous population and a huge Métis population, which is a combination of people who have come from both an indigenous and a French background, and we also have a large French population, and then the English, and then everything else under the sun is in there, too.

We felt that in order to really honor our adopted hometown of Winnipeg, we needed to involve the French and the First Nations people in the song. We have a wonderful singer and songwriter who is Métis and she ended up writing a French portion to the song and doing a call-and-response with us on the track. And we invited a First Nations chanter and drummer to come and sing at the end of the song. We felt it wrapped up this beautiful multicultural community that we have in Winnipeg.

To me, “Sing” captures the spirit of this record. It lets people know about you and what you stand for. Is that important for you to share your own experiences with an audience?

Yes, I think it is. I think we’ve been more aware of bringing stories from other places that we’ve been, too, so it’s a combination of our experiences and also other people’s experiences. And with this record being released on an American label, we feel very privileged to be able to share about Canada with our American neighbors. It’s a very Canadian-focused album, with a strong sense of location. We want to bring stories about the people in Canada, and what things are like for us, and share that with the States, and Europe, and Australia, and the markets we get to go to.

It’s so great when people hear a song like “Winnipeg,” like, the people who come up to us in England and say, “Wow, I never thought I’d want to go to Winnipeg!” It cracks us up. We’re happy that we live in Winnipeg and we’re lucky that we live in Canada. We feel very privileged to live in Canada and we want to share some of the love, and some of the stories, of who we are and where we’re from.


Photo credit: Stefanie Atkinson

WATCH: Kacy & Clayton, “The Forty-Ninth Parallel”

Artist: Kacy & Clayton
Hometown: Rural Saskatchewan
Song: “The Forty-Ninth Parallel”
Album: Carrying On (produced by Jeff Tweedy)
Release Date: October 4th, 2019
Label: New West Records

In Their Words: “‘The Forty-Ninth Parallel’ video was filmed in Regina, Saskatchewan, and it shouldn’t be hard to tell. Filmmaking treasure, Sunny Adams, has created somewhat of a young woman’s ‘Experience Regina’ demonstration video. There are off-putting moments throughout involving a Bud Light Lime hat, a very faint farmer’s tan, and a couple of total Sasky party machines. The song itself is a Gen Z’s attempt at a fable. The moral is skewed but there still is one if you’re looking. Watching a truck rip donuts to our song has been an unexpected highlight of my life and I hope others may enjoy it too.” — Kacy Anderson


Photo credit: Mat Dunlap

LISTEN: Ariana Gillis, “The Maze”

Artist: Ariana Gillis
Hometown: Vineland, Ontario, Canada
Song: “The Maze”
Album: The Maze
Release Date: June 14, 2019

In Their Words: “‘The Maze’ is based upon the Greek myth of the Minotaur in the labyrinth. The hero, Theseus, needs to find his way back out and he does so with the help of a ball of thread. The song deals with the questions, ‘What are we most afraid of? Are these fears real or are they just imagined?’ The ribbon in the song is the thread that guides us through dark and frightening times in our lives. By facing our fears head-on we develop a strength and courage that we never had before.That’s what ‘The Maze’ means to me.” — Ariana Gillis


Photo credit: David Gillis

BGS 5+5: Gillian Nicola

Artist: Gillian Nicola
Hometown: Hamilton, Ontario, Canada
Latest album: Dried Flowers
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Ginny, Giggy, Giggz

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

This is a really tough question for me to pin down, because I am influenced by so many people. Kathleen Edwards is probably my most influential songwriter. I love her storytelling and how easily she can float between fragility and strength. She was one of the first Americana/Canadiana artists I started listening to and I think her music very much shaped the way I think about songwriting. I am also very influenced by genre-fusing artists like Joni Mitchell and Kacey Musgraves.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

Last year, I performed a small house concert in cottage country in Ontario. We performed the concert on a dock and it was a very beautiful, intimate concert — with a nice summer breeze as the sun was setting. That on its own was magical enough. What I didn’t know at first was that while we were playing, boats were pulling up to watch from the lake. It was such a perfect Canadian scene and I will remember that one forever.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

I don’t remember this one too clearly, but I’m often told this story by my family. When I was about 4, I was at a family friend’s birthday. In a party mostly full of boys who were playing sports and racing around the room, I took out a chair, sat down, and insisted that everybody stop what they were doing, because I was “going to sing for them now.” Music has always been a part of me — it’s not a firm memory, but rather, an inseparable part of who I am.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

I think open space and the atmosphere of nighttime is a strong part of my work. I sing about the night a fair bit on my new album (“Night Comes to Call” and “Moonshine”) and write the most during the night. There’s also been a lot of influence from water, mostly in terms of writing about space and distance, and how well that’s reflected through bodies of water.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

I have a very strict policy of never revealing who a song is about and whether or not it’s a personal anecdote or about someone else. Many of my closest friends don’t know who or what I am singing about (though I’m sure many could take a stab at it) and I prefer to keep it private that way. The only song that I’ve written where I explicitly talk about who the character is on “Across the Sea” off of Dried Flowers.

I wrote this song about one of my best friends who moved to London, England, a few years ago. He is the first person I send new songs to and despite the distance, we have remained very close. It was really nice to be able to write a love song for a friend, instead of from a romantic angle. Other than that, everyone will just have to make their own assumptions, which they probably would do anyways even if I confirmed or denied anything.


Photo credit: Jen Squires

LISTEN: The Small Glories, “Secondhand”

Artist: The Small Glories
Hometown: Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada
Song: “Secondhand”
Album: Assiniboine & the Red
Release Date: June 28, 2019
Label: Red House Records

In Their Words: “We spend a significant portion of our life out on the road, without our partners, families, or close friends. When we come home we tell stories about our adventures and share all our photos, and everyone seems happy for us. But the reality is that our loved ones want to be in those pictures; they want to be there with us experiencing all these interesting things together. A song written for those we love, dreaming and wishing they could take the plunge and be out on the road with us.” — Cara Luft, The Small Glories


Photo credit: Aaron Ives

BGS 5+5: Tim Baker

Artist: Tim Baker
Hometown: St. John’s, Newfoundland
Latest album: Forever Overhead

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

In late 2017 my former band Hey Rosetta played our final farewell shows before going on hiatus, and probably the final one had the most beauty packed into it I can remember being packed into any show before or since. We were a seven-piece sort of scrappy orchestral indie-rock band from St John’s, Newfoundland, that somehow managed to tour off the island and around the world and get awards and make records for 12 years and I have no idea how we did it but our hometown was very proud of us and good to us and the very final show was in the sold-out stadium there. It had so much emotion and love and nostalgia and significance around it that I don’t think my feet touched the ground the whole time, even though I had bronchitis and strep throat or some god-awful combination of classic touring lead-singer afflictions. I sang and played everything powered by 12 years of support and love and it is the brightest and biggest and best memory I have a show.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

Listen, sing freely, think freely, listen, don’t be too hard on yourself, don’t be too easy on yourself, listen, work, play, and try to have it all help people and do good. By mostly listening.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

As a Newfoundlander recently resettled in Toronto I spend a lot of time missing and dreaming of nature. And actually this impacts my work a lot. Several songs on this latest record are about moving from a place with easy, instant access to the ocean and the woods, to this grey and glass land of shadows and cars. About trying to get back home, whether literally, or to some forest from our collective past.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

Well, as a man with a lot of dietary restrictions these days I may be more excited about the dream meal than the company, but I would love the most to sit down with Leonard Cohen himself and eat a grilled cheese sandwich, followed by some handmade raviolis, and then some Montreal smoked meat sandwiches, all there around the corner from where he lived and wrote for so long. And then maybe some coffee and cookies and a walk through the mountain after.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

You are always doing this. Perhaps it’s a defense when your songs get too personal, or perhaps you don’t want to come off as a narcissist that alienates your audience, but yeah, you do this a lot. But actually it can be kind of nice when you listen to songs years later, when you’ve grown so far from that younger singer, and you feel that perhaps this kid is indeed talking to you, and sometimes even has something to say to you.


Photo credit: Britney Townsend

WATCH: The East Pointers, “In Bloom”

Artist: The East Pointers
Hometown: Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, Canada
Song: “In Bloom”
Release Date: March 6, 2019
Label: The East Pointers

In Their Words: “‘In Bloom’ has always been a favourite of ours — it’s such a great song with a very unique chord and melody vibe. A few days before playing Lee’s Palace in Toronto last year, we were chatting about how Nirvana played the same venue almost 30 years earlier. This was our acoustic tribute to them that night!” — The East Pointers


Photo credit: Jen Squires

LISTEN: Dustin Bentall, ” If Yer Willin'”

Artist: Dustin Bentall
Hometown: Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada
Song: “If Yer Willin'”
Album: High in the Satellite EP
Release Date: March 1, 2019
Label: Roaring Girl Records

In Their Words: “This is a song about being willing to take that chance in love and those feelings you get when you’re falling in that direction. Sometimes you get on that highway blindly and hope that you can make someone’s life richer in hopes that the same thing returned back to you. And maybe that love is just returning to a place you’ve been going to since childhood.” — Dustin Bentall


Photo credit: Stefan Berrill

LISTEN: Lindi Ortega, “Liberty” (from ‘Liberty: Piano Songbook’)

Artist: Lindi Ortega
Hometown: Toronto, Ontario
Song: “Liberty”
Album: Liberty: Piano Songbook
Release Date: January 25, 2019
Label: Shadowbox Music

In Their Words: “What I love about the Piano Songbook version of ‘Liberty’ is how it still has this vintage vibe to it. I immediately picture this tune being played on an old Western saloon piano. I think the sense of triumph is still captured in the chorus but new elements reveal themselves in the melody, and in the bridge of the song that allows it to take a new shape. It’s been extremely interesting for me to get a real sense of the melodies without vocals. Piano has always been an instrument I truly respect and love the sound of; to be honest, I don’t think a full instrumental would work properly with any single instrument other than piano. Piano has body, richness and fullness all on its own. ‘Liberty’ was one of the more produced songs on the original record, and for it to still carry itself with piano is really cool.” — Lindi Ortega


Photo credit: Kate Nutt

Kaia Kater’s Banjo Carves a Space and Opens Doors on ‘Grenades’

Sometimes self-exploration doesn’t yield the answers we seek. For those patient enough to keep prodding, the real truths emerge in the process, rather than the culmination of examining who we are. Kaia Kater learned as much on her third album, Grenades, which stretches across generations, hemispheres, and textures, and left the singer-songwriter “swimming in her own shadow.”

Born in Canada, Kater grew up hearing about her father’s life in Grenada before he fled at age 14 when the United States invaded the small island country in 1983. As a result, a part of her always existed in a land that lay far away. With the banjo as her guiding force on Grenades, Kater strings a tightrope between her Canadian sense of self and her Grenadian heritage, in order to find a balance between those two poles.

Why did it feel like the right time not only to turn inwards, but to seek a connection back through the generations?

I think it was a multitude of things. I’d been two years out of school, and I found I had more time and space. I’d also had more conversations with my dad, and at a certain point he was like, “You’ve got to go back. You can’t keep putting it off. You’ve got to do it.” I came to agree with him. What started this whole thing is last Christmas I interviewed him in the basement of his house about growing up in Grenada and coming to Canada as a refugee.

And at the age of 14.

I know! It’s kind of crazy. I was 24 at the time I was interviewing him, so just to think about where I was at 14 — it’s kind of terrifying to think about becoming an adult that quickly. It’s kind of unbelievable. But he didn’t really talk about it a lot. I think that’s the thing, people do extraordinary things in order to lead very normal lives.

That’s a beautiful way to put it.

Yes, it’s the story of immigration and the story of refugees. I don’t think my dad ever hid his story, but I don’t think he ever thought it was an extraordinary story. He thought it was his path on the way to doing what he wants to.

It’s fantastic, then, that in addition to fitting your own voice into this musical genealogy you were able to include his voice three times on this album.

Those were from those interviews at Christmas. So much of the music and the emotion was born from that conversation that it felt like an imperative for me to include them. They were not only contextualizing the music, but they were also serving as these light posts for a pretty complicated storyline.

You’ve described Grenades as a lifeline to the South, and yet you grew up in the North. North and South have long existed as such stark dichotomies. Do you think, speaking about your identity, reconciliation is possible, or have you come to accept that there will always be a tension?

I do think it’s like being a hyphenated Canadian. I think there’s a certain cognitive dissonance that happens. This album is really great because it’s given me the space and the time to start to talk to more first and second generation Canadians about “What does being Canadian mean?” In comparison to Grenada, which is 95 percent black, Canada is a multi-ethnic place. It is richer for that. We acknowledge the richness that comes with diversity, but I think it also creates these problems of identity.

I have a friend whose parents are Ghanaian. She’s black and she grew up going to a Ghanaian church in Toronto, and then she went back to Ghana after she got her journalism degree. She was faced with this thing of like, “I have Ghanaian roots, but there’s a part of me that…my accent and the words I use are very Canadian.” I feel a little bit all over the place. Even the nature of exploring all these things is how I feel about it, which is like, I haven’t particularly arrived to a conclusion.

Nor should you. That’s the beauty of any creative form—it allows you to keep exploring. Turning to the album itself, you said you wrote the songs across winter and summer?

I started writing this album really in earnest after I’d had that conversation with my dad at Christmas. Then I went to Grenada in April, and obviously it’s very warm and it’s very beautiful, so it did feel, more than the natural course of the seasons in Canada, like I went suddenly from winter — this gray March — to summer. That’s why I feel it as this change between seasons, but also like we’ve been talking about, it’s a change in hemisphere too.

When it came time to stitch those halves together, what was the process like?

I challenged myself to write all original music on this album. I knew that in order to do that, I would have to push myself and get really analytical with my work. Just changing my environment and going to Grenada was a great help because it brought out different words and melodies and expressions. If all the songs were color-coded in my head, and one is blue for winter and yellow for summer, I can see them that way.

Of the arrangements on the entire album the three that most stand out are “Canyonland,” “The Right One,” and “Poets Be Buried.” Speaking of the latter, the beautiful slow-burn brass is exquisite. How did that unfold?

At this point, I should really credit my wonderful producer, Erin Costello. She is an artist herself; she’s actually releasing a record right around the same time as me. Keyboard is her main instrument, so she works mainly in R&B and soul, but she dabbled a lot in electronic music, and has a Master’s in composition. I feel like her musical tastes are really broad, and she really doesn’t shy away from a challenge, which is why I enjoyed working with her. And it’s also nice to be working with a woman.

I was going to say!

So many of them are men, so it’s nice to have a change of energy. She lives in Halifax. We recorded the album in Toronto, and the next day we flew to Halifax with the hard drive and mixed it there. I’d expressed that “Poets Be Buried” needed something more, and so the brass was actually the last musical piece that we added to the entire album before we mixed it. It was amazing. She had these players come in for an afternoon, and she wrote up the parts in 15 minutes. It sounded beautiful. It’s just French horn and trombone.

If you had to define the banjo’s power as an instrument and storyteller, what would it be?

The banjo has a very ancient quality, and I think especially when it’s played percussively like the clawhammer style, it can bring you into this trancelike, dreamlike state. I’ve found that with traditional music a lot, especially in a jam situation. It’s everybody playing the melody and chording all of the time — it’s not solo-based. When you’re in a jam, you get this trancelike quality where you’re playing this A/B pattern 50 or 60 times. I think the banjo lends itself well to this trance of storytelling. It brings me this inner peace that’s pretty indescribable. I think that’s why I was so attracted to it and why I’ve written on it for so many years.

I read that you play two or three banjos, but your grandpa made one for you?

Yeah, I’m looking at it now on my wall.

If we’re talking about generations, and how your new album encompasses all these different stories, that connection to your grandfather brings it to a whole other visceral level.

I hadn’t thought about that; that is a good point. It’s funny, at the risk of sounding too cheesy, it’s been a guiding light in my life. It’s opened the doors to so many things — not only studying in Appalachia, but also writing things that I may have been too scared to say openly. It’s a really beautiful instrument and a powerful one.

In the liner notes, you remark, “Here’s to swimming in your own shadow.” In dealing with your father’s voice and other generations, how did you create the space for your voice in the midst of intertwining these other narratives?

I think I still am. In the same way when we were talking about northern and southern hemispheres, I think that’s an ever-evolving question for me. For a long time, I’ve had an existential anxiety about having two sides to my family who both have very strong people and very strong narratives, and thinking, “Where do I fit in this picture?” That’s why I create albums, so I can give myself the time and space to explore that.

I’ve put Grenades out, and now I’m going to get to know what it’s about. The “swimming in your own shadow” thing is about getting comfortable essentially with being uncomfortable, and with having a lot of conflicting narratives, and trauma that comes from war or from being biracial, or from being a woman in the world, which people are really starting to talk about. It’s my own way of dealing with that. The album is me carving out that space for myself.


Photo credit: Raez Argulla