‘It’s in our nature that we have to move and change things and make them different’ — Patrick Watson hang around Montreal
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Isn’t it nice to see the underdog come out on top? In this day and age, the success or failure of an emerging band tends to hinge on whether or not they are deemed worthy by the “blogosphere.” Thus, when an indie album slips through the cracks and becomes popular without the universal approbation of the major online purveyors of hipness, it’s cause for something of a celebration. Such is the case for Montreal’s Patrick Watson — a quartet led by a singer-songwriter of the same name. When their masterfully crafted Close to Paradise came out of nowhere to be chosen as this year’s Polaris Music Prize recipient over better-known candidates like Feist and Arcade Fire, knee-jerk reactions from self-appointed online tastemakers like pitchforkmedia.com ranged from “OMG!?” to “WTF!?”
“Yeah, they didn’t like that very much, did they?” recalls an amused Watson. “I think [music website] Pitchfork is funny because they think they have the word of God on music, so when they run that shit I just laugh. They’ve been behind these other Canadian bands and pushing them, so for them it was kind of like... what the fuck? But all of those [nominated] albums do different things for people’s lives. Winning the Polaris Prize doesn’t mean we ‘beat’ anyone in the conventional sense. It’s not like a sporting event where we ran faster than somebody else — we just did our thing and people liked it.”
Patrick Watson is a band whose albums offer extensive rewards for careful listening. At first blush, their dreamy blend of pop and classical music inspires comparisons to Jeff Buckley and Rufus Wainwright. A common criticism draws parallels to Coldplay (a band whose hipster cred dried up long ago) based primarily on Watson’s gentle, radio-friendly vocal style, but close aural inspection reveals that there’s a lot going on just beneath the surface. Throughout Close to Paradise, conventional melodies are supplemented by glitchy pops, clicks and loops — sonic structures that suggest an underlying tendency towards experimentation.
“I think it started happening when I was listening to Björk at some point,” says Watson, describing the germination of his more adventurous approach to songwriting. “If you take away the vocals and just listen to the music, it’s probably some of the most modern music to come out in the past 10 years. She’s got these classical string parts and they aren’t compromised to fit over grooves, they’re really amazing arrangements that have really contemporary voicing. Then for the rhythm part, it’s super avant-garde electronics. Nothing is compromised and everything fits really well together. Then she sings over it, but it’s really instrumentally oriented. So I think when I heard Björk, that was probably the first time I really started diving into sound design and realized I could do songs like that too, but still have an instrumental edge, because I wasn’t really much of a singer-songwriter at the time.”
Early on, the group was more of a performance art group than a band, with shows geared towards musical accompaniment to multimedia displays and grandiose undertakings, like fitting the entire band into a huge plastic bubble. Over time, the focus has evolved towards a live experience centred predominantly on the music, although a certain aspect of lavish showmanship has been retained. The current live show incorporates balloons and toothbrushes on the guitar, “all sorts of weird bells” in the drum kit and a healthy dose of loops and effects in the vocal plane. Still, some might wonder whether Watson worries that recent successes will pigeonhole his band to a genre far removed from their outlandish beginnings.
“I don’t even know if we’re capable of that,” he says assuredly. “It’s in our nature that we have to move and change things and make them different — it’s just the way we are. All the new songs we’ve written so far and played live are completely different. They have nothing to do with the last record, and they’re a lot more energetic. Plus, we’ve learned a lot live because we’ve played like 200 shows this year. So we’ve grown as a band as well, far beyond the last record.”
Things are going pretty well for these underdogs, but it’s unlikely that anyone will be able to accuse them of resting on their laurels. Having overcome the litany of criticisms from the hipster press to find a comfortable, creatively stimulating niche in the music world, Watson is poised to join the ever-growing ranks of artists taking aim at the anachronistic business model of the recording industry. Discussing his plans for self-releasing music in a digital format, he reveals a streak of business acumen every bit as sly as the more subtle aspects of his songwriting.
“The music business has been held hostage by all these middle men who have done a big disservice to the people,” he says. “When you’re watching the Junos, who’s the one that picks the artists that are there, and why are they picked? Are they the best artists in Canada? No. They’re the albums that sold, and that’s a fact. And what’s happening is that people who don’t have the opportunity to learn about music see that and think ‘these are the best musical artists right now and this is all I have to listen to.’ That’s kind of a disservice, because it’s obviously businessmen choosing that and there’s all this great music that people don’t even have access to because of these middle men who have established things in a way that makes it good for them. But I don’t find that it’s good for the listener.”
This philosophy is hardly surprising given the city Watson calls home. Over the past few years, aided significantly by the runaway success of its artisan indie music scene, the outside world has discovered Montreal as one of the world’s most fertile sources of innovation in contemporary art. Although the songwriter is hesitant to engage in hometown evangelism, he acknowledges that the local emphasis on craftsmanship and originality creates an environment conducive to making great music.
“After travelling all year, I still would pick this place to live over any city,” he says effusively. “I really like Europe, but I still like the straight-up-ness of North America. It’s an attitude that I like. I like the fact that Canada doesn’t belong to anybody. In places like France or Belgium or England, where there’s a long, huge history, there tends to be a generalization of what the people are like. I like living in a place where the history is still being written — I find that exciting.”
