music

Tanya Tagaq and her music are genre-defying.

But, then again, that’s what makes them both so great. Tagaq is great because she’s talented, real, warm, funny and not above using a few well-placed curses for emphasis when needed.

The fact that her music is great was recognized in September, when her latest album, Animus, won the Polaris Music Prize. For the Inuit throat-singer, winning the Polaris wasn’t as much mind-blowing as it was validating.

It was only in 1986 that contemporary rock music began in China. The artist was Cui Jian, and the instruments were a mixture of Western and Eastern styles, featuring screaming electric guitars. He is now seen as the figurehead of the Chinese rock movement.

Since then, the music scene in China has developed at breakneck speed. Now, in what is seen as its fourth generation, there is a burgeoning scene for every musical style. Some compare the Chinese music scene today to the late ’60s of North America.

While working on their latest album, Sainthood, Tegan and Sara spent a month at Sound City Studios in Van Nuys, California, where Tom Petty, Pat Benatar, Fleetwood Mac and Nirvana have recorded. One day, Sara Quin found herself in the midst of a truly memorable moment.

It’s a couple of days after the U.S. election and Serena Ryder is still enraptured by U.S. president Barack Obama’s victory.

Three years ago, The Cliks were a semi-professional trio playing the usual gigs available to openly queer bands.

Fair-skinned girls who want mainstream acceptance aren’t singing about gender politics or First Nations’ issues, either, but that’s exactly what makes Kinnie Starr stand out.

Favourably compared in the music press to Lauryn Hill, PJ Harvey and Ani Difranco, Starr has spent her 10-year career on the edge of mainstream success. Her first album came out in 1996 and she has worked steadily—albeit often independently—since then.

Throat singing isn’t a sound that’s easy to describe, even for Tanya Tagaq, so she relies on comparisons.

“It’s breath, it’s rhythm. To be very, well, pompous about it, it’s like the sushi of sound.”

She shakes her head, laughing. “When you hear it, you either love it or you hate it.”

It’s a typical muggy July afternoon in Vancouver. Inside the Commodore Ballroom—a relic from the ’20s restored to its art deco splendour five years ago—the Indigo Girls’ sound check is dragging.

Amy Ray, the dark-haired Indigo Girl known for her gravelly vocals and edgier songwriting style, is a little frustrated as she runs through the evening’s set list and corrects the levels for the duo’s plethora of stringed instruments.

In June 1999, Lynne Stopkewich was preparing to shoot her second feature film, Suspicious River, when she got a call from her partners, Dean English and Jessica Fraser.

Boneyard Film Productions had just negotiated with Sarah McLachlan and Nettwerk Productions to create a documentary about Lilith Fair, Sarah McLachlan's all-woman travelling music festival. McLachlan had already said 'yes' to the team going on the road to document the last year of Lilith Fair. But there was a caveat. She wanted a woman director. And she wanted Lynne.