Photo by Bruce Zinger
JAMES STRECKER: Please tell us about one or more projects that you have been working on or have recently completed. Why exactly do they matter to you and why should they matter to us?
HEATHER DALE: I’m just about to release my 20th album Sphere, which coincides with my 20th year as a recording artist. In many ways those years have flown by: spent circumnavigating the USA several times in a station wagon, singing in 12th century Welsh castles, and driving through the Australian outback doing live concerts. Throughout these twenty years, each time I’d have a few weeks in one place I would condense all those experiences into a new recording. Each song I write is very deeply personal. And fairly uniquely in the music world, every one of them is twinned in my own mind with a similar Celtic legend, Greek myth, Russian tale or some other story. Layering the old with the new makes me feel connected to my Celtic roots, even as I’m living my life in the 21st century. Sphere focuses on stories of women breaking free from silence — they find their own power, their own voice.
All of these old stories survive through the ages because they have some pearl of wisdom, some resonant element that persists from storyteller to storyteller. Cinderella is about having to stay silent in an abusive environment; Medusa refuses to back down even though she is shunned; King Arthur is willing to lead ethically even if it means personal sacrifice.
JS: How did doing these projects change you as a person and as a creator?
HD: My partner Ben Deschamps and I have moved back to Toronto after a full decade of being on the road, and so we had much more time to devote to making Sphere. We consciously put aside our regular ‘go to’ instruments (guitar, piano) and wrote this project without those overly familiar tools. I’m delighted by the epic percussion- and strings-driven scope that the album has. We also had the luxury of including a fresh artistic presence in the form of our co-producer Dave MacKinnon, whose specialty is creative tape looping and other audio manipulation. He really brought out the spirit of songs like Sleeping Beauty and Three Axes.
JS: What might others not understand or appreciate about the work you produce or do?
HD: My music always has at least two layers of meaning, sometimes more. I never write a flat story, where everything is on display on first listen. I work to create something nuanced, three-dimensional, deep — something you can dive into and experience multiple times. If something sticks in my memory or imagination, I do my best to figure out why and then use that underlying truth as a springboard for songwriting. I’m a very intuitive creator. Each song hints at something very personal, while also connecting the listener to other tales people have told about the same issues.
My music requires one big leap of faith: you have to accept that fairytales are not silly. You can have them in your life, without losing your adult status. Once you take away the Disney stereotype, old stories suddenly become rich with humour and wisdom.
Another personal element that isn’t always noticed: I write gender ambiguity into a lot of my work. I write love songs that work equally well for untraditional relationships. I sing first-person songs that might be from either a man’s or woman’s perspective; this isn’t accidental. I’m always drawn to telling stories that aren’t being told anywhere else. If they surprise people, then I’m doing something right.
JS: What are the most important parts of yourself that you put into your work?
HD: I have always pushed the envelope where creation is concerned, though in a ‘work within the system’ kind of way. I will bend the rules as far as possible, and distort them without completely abandoning them. I aim for an end result that is oddly fascinating yet still a tiny bit familiar. Some people might be disappointed that I haven’t made the same album 20 times over, but I would disappoint myself if I played it safe. It’s important for me to always be trying new things. Each of my fans seems to gravitate toward a different song from my recordings; that’s ideal in my opinion.
JS: What are your biggest challenges as a creative person?
HD: I invest as much time managing my own record label Amphis Music as I do making music. I see business and art as equivalently creative activities: each is a complex thing made up of daily creative impulses. When I was a teenager, I looked at the independent career that Loreena McKennitt was crafting for herself, and I realized that I wanted to start building the same kind of entrepreneurial life; there would be no sense of accomplishment in waiting for some studio executive to magically discover my music and make me a star. I much prefer building strong things slowly, than having a moment of flash-and-dazzle that fades quickly.
The only drawback of keeping complete control over my art is that (amusingly) it becomes increasingly difficult to carve out time to make that art. I’ve learned to do find that balance reasonably well over the years, but it certainly doesn’t come naturally.
JS: Imagine that you are meeting two or three people, living or dead, whom you admire because of their work in your form of artistic expression. What would you say to them and what would they say to you?
HD: If I can approach this question sideways: I’ll start with someone I’ve actually had the privilege of meeting: Moya Brennan from the Irish supergroup Clannad (who is also Enya’s sister). I saw her show at Hugh’s Room almost 15 years ago and managed to get her autograph, which was a total thrill… but it struck me 2 weeks later, as I was headlining the same venue, that all the people lining up to meet me were feeling much the same. It caused a sudden and permanent shift in my own mind: musicians are normal people, whose art creates an excited sort of glimmer in the minds of others. Now, if I had the chance to meet Moya again, I’d love to simply say thank you, give her a cup of tea, and leave her to some peace and quiet. She’s a person under all the stardom, and it would be nice to give her a moment where she didn’t have to be ‘on’. Similarly with Loreena McKennitt — though it would take me a lot much more self-discipline not to absolutely melt in the presence of my fundamental artistic inspiration. Of course, if I were to ever meet the enigmatic Enya, I think I would simply ask if I could live in her coach house. I’d be very quiet and not be a bother, cross my heart.
JS: What are the hardest things for an outsider to understand about your life as a person in the arts?
HD: I think there is a fair bit of confusion over what being an introvert really means. I am most assuredly an introvert, but I have no problem being the life of the party if that’s what’s needed; after 1400 concerts where I was both the event hostess and the on-stage personality, I don’t think there’s any question about that. But while I like social activity, it doesn’t leave me energized… rather I require a lot of recovery time where I’m absolutely alone afterward. I really treasure the friends who understand that odd mixture of “lively” and “reclusive”.
And while I may appear to wear my heart on my sleeve, I feel very much that “Capital H, Capital D” (me as a working artist) and my private side are very different. They are both facets of my true self… but honestly, I’ve been on stage immediately after losing a friend to suicide, and no one in that audience had any idea. My small private family get to know those things, while I let my fans see the parts of me that feel strong, confident, mellow, and joyful. I delight in being HD, but it does sometimes surprise people to discover that they’re not seeing all my vulnerabilities.
JS: Please tell us what you haven’t attempted as yet that you would like to do in the arts? Why the delay so far?
HD: I am building up to performing with an orchestra or large chamber ensemble. There is such a dramatic sweep in my music that having a full sound palette would be brilliant. I’ve started touring with the Amphis Chamber Strings, and I adore it — the quartet adds so much to the emotional landscape at our concerts. I really look forward to the day when I am singing with a giant ensemble of musicians at my back.
JS: If you could re-live your life in the arts, how would you change it and why?
HD: Ben and I have both, at times, been too shy about promoting ourselves. Being Canadian is a such a big source of pride: of course, no culture is perfect, but we grew up in an environment where difference was turned into interest rather than fear. Canadians generally try to get along peacefully with people. Unfortunately, part of that is that Ben and I are so culturally polite when we’re working in America or Europe, it feels rude to talk loudly about what we have for sale, or trumpet our achievements. It just feels gauche to us. Of course, we do it anyways (otherwise we’d starve), but I think that many of the people at our concerts over the years were unaware of how popular we’d become online and overseas.
JS: Let’s talk about the state of the arts in today’s society, including the forms in which you work. What specifically gives you hope and what specifically do you find depressing?
HD: Honestly, I’m quite happy about it all. Evolution is natural. Nothing will be the same as in the past; that’s just not how humanity works. There are brilliant artists of all ages trying new things, reviving and maintaining old forms, and creating art using tools that didn’t exist a decade ago. I am able to access pop music from Mali, devotional music from Bangladesh, opera from Canada, heavy metal from Sweden, and watch a Maori modern dance troupe — all on the same afternoon. Whereas 20 years ago, I had to go to the local library to learn how to start a small business. I don’t deny that traditional sources of funding are waning, but crowdfunding is on the rise. Recording studios are closing, but my nephew is podcasting at his kitchen table. There is negative and positive in almost everything, and I do my best to stay with the positive.
JS: In your creative life thus far, what have been the most helpful comments you have heard about your work?
HD: I can actually point to a very important piece of advice that I utterly ignored — and I was glad I did. In 2005, a well-established label approached me and made me a great offer where I’d retain 100% creative freedom and get all the benefits of national representation. But when the negotiations were nearly complete, the label owners very seriously looked me in the eye and insisted that two songs be dropped from the album, before they’d release it. They didn’t like them. After blinking a few times, I put the pen down before signing anything, and left. I released “The Road to Santiago” on my own, and 14 years later it’s still seeing strong sales. Their advice made me realize that I already had 100% creative freedom, and all they could offer me was a more complicated life. If autonomy comes with the responsibility of keeping my own company going from year to year, then I consider it a great exchange.
JS: Finally, what do you yourself find to be the most intriguing and/or surprising things about you?
HD: Many people are surprised to learn that I actually enjoy heavy metal music. I knew nothing about it until I started touring with Ben… but now I sing along with Nile and Candlemass, I’ve been right up front at two Iron Maiden concerts, and I can differentiate between Viking Folk Metal (which is a real thing) and Scottish Pirate Metal (also a thing). I see a lot of similarities to early opera: it’s wildly dramatic, deliberately larger-than-life, and intended to make you feel strong emotions. Art is a many-splendored thing, indeed.