"The tradition is so big and the history so long, there is so much honesty and connection within the songs and stories, the blues holds it all. It's really a kind of gift. A means by which we can recognize and acknowledge whatever is happening and find the way forward."
Rob Lutes: Journey Into The Unknown
Since the release of his first album Gravity in 2000, Rob Lutes has steadily built a collection of exquisite songs that inhabit the intersection of blues, folk, Americana, and the contemporary singer-songwriter genre. As skilled delivering a Piedmont blues classic as he is performing his own acclaimed original songs, Lutes's masterful fingerstyle guitar work and soulful voice bring an unmistakable intensity to his live performances. On his seventh album, Walk in the Dark (2017), he does what he has done for years: kicks up a little dust, wades into some deep waters and tackles the realities of the world with depth, humour and a unique musical style. Photo by James St Laurent
Situated at the intersection of the blues, folk, Americana and contemporary singer-songwriter genres, Walk in the Dark is an exquisite collection of songs that highlight Lutes’s unmistakable voice and literary writing style. Co-produced with celebrated Montreal producer and Cirque de Soleil collaborator Rob Heaney, the album features a group of Canada's finest roots and blues players, including guitarist Rob MacDonald and keyboardist Bob Stagg along with noted artists Ian Kelly, Guy Bélanger and Joe Grass. It finds Lutes, a Kerrville New Folk winner, Maple Blues and Canadian Folk Music Awards nominee, exploring a wide range of subjects and paying homage to some heroes: James Cotton (on There's No Way to Tell You That Tonight) and guitarist Joseph Spence (on the instrumental Spence). Recorded mainly over three days in late January in a small studio in Montreal's Notre Dame de Grace borough, the recording captures the essence of Lutes's soulful voice and rhythmic guitar style, enveloped by a group of players who are no stranger to his groove. Featuring 12 new originals, including two co-writes with award-winning Americana songwriter Dale Boyle, and the forgotten John Prine gem Rocky Mountain Time, the album digs deep into the roots of Canadian and American music and delivers another strong statement. "This album, of all of them, was a journey into the unknown, which is why I like the title so much," Lutes says. "With a great co-producer, and a group of phenomenal players and friends, I went in to the studio to find these songs. And I really feel like we did that." Lutes has released six other full-length albums, including 2009’s acclaimed Truth & Fiction and 2013's The Bravest Birds which spent seven months in the Roots Music Report top 10 and hit #1 on the EuroAmericana Chart. He performs solo, in duo with Quebec guitar legend Rob MacDonald, and in full-band format and as part of the roots supergroup Sussex.
How has the Blues and Folk/Roots music influenced your views of the world and the journeys you’ve taken?
Since I became a touring musician in the late 90s, blues and roots music has been a sort of passport for me to travel the world, meet thousands of people and learn their stories. This is a gift. Those stories and friends have nourished me and my songwriting. I find I do some of my best writing on the road where you grind from show to show, but fresh experiences are coming at you daily. I found two of the songs from Walk on the Dark on the road in Germany and the Netherland in May 2016. Pumping Love came to me driving on the Autobahn the morning after a show in Oldenburg. The song I Am the Blues came a few days later after a show but took me the rest of my time in Europe, about four weeks, to finish.
How do you describe Rob Lutes sound and songbook? What characterize your music philosophy?
My sound and songs have evolved a bit over the years but if there was a theme to it all, I would say it is that I try to find some sort of truth about the human condition in my writing. I work my lyrics and the music until I feel like I am getting at something that is real. I don't get too excited about a song if I'm not getting close to touching something like that. When I am getting on to a song. I feel like it is already there somewhere in the ether, and I have to dig down and discover it. That's probably what I love most in music, the aha moment when you finally find the song you've been working on.
"The future is so up the in air globally, I think music will continue to play a role in how we process all of what is happening, whether with the climate or politically. Music is a sort of constant coping strategy for putting the pain outside and allowing all of humanity to look at it and figure out the best way forward." (Photo by Susan Moss)
Which acquaintances have been the most important experiences?
For me, the people I have collaborated with and created with have been the most helpful to me as a writer and musician. For example, my longtime guitar player Rob MacDonald is also a sounding board for songs. We've toured and played for more than 20 years, and he knows my stuff probably better than anyone. I play new songs for him—or my wife and sometime co-writer Monique, first. If a song passes that test, I am ready to take it out to the public or into the studio. My family—parents and five older siblings all had an influence on me too. They brought so much music into my life when I was very young, from Three Dog Night to Joni Mitchell and a million other bands. I know it shaped what I like and how I write in some very deep way.
Sometimes musical influence is dumb luck. You get dragged to a show, or you travel with someone and they play a song over and over again... until it gets in your soul. I have had songs come to me in many ways. I came to love Freedy Johnson on a road trip to eastern Canada with my bassist. He played Freedy's disc Black Days Blue Nights for 8 hours straight I think and I was hooked.
I remember my father coming home one night with a Joe Cocker album (I Can Stand a Little Rain). My Dad wasn't a huge music fan, and he thought he was buying the latest Jim Croce record. He had just confused the names. It was a stroke of luck for my young self. That Joe Cocker record is one of my all-time favourites. The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress, Performance, It's a Sin When You Love Somebody are just a few classics that were on the record.
Finally, my friend from university Andy Carmichael introduced me to a lot of great Texas writers, from Jerry Jeff Walker to Townes Van Zandt and Willie and Waylon and Roger Miller. This opened my eyes to a whole new language of songwriting.
What was the best advice anyone ever gave you?
Two pieces are probably tied for the best.
The first was from my brother, when I was a fair bit younger and it was the simple message that we are human and we make mistakes. Humans tend to be very hard on themselves and it's not helpful.
The other piece of advice, and this one was more in relation to being a songwriter and recording artist, came from the roots songwriter Ray Bonneville, who used to live in Montreal and played on my first album Gravity. At a music conference way back 2001 or so, he told me to persevere. His experience was that if you stick around and keep doing good work over the years, things will turn in your favour at some point. He was right.
Are there any memories from gig, jams, open acts and studio sessions which you’d like to share with us? Photo by Tony Lazarecki
There are so many memories from playing and recording over the years. The freshest in my mind are our sessions for Walk in the Dark this past January. It all went so quickly for this record. It was late January, and cold and snowy, and we were working out of Studio Fast Forward sort of searching for these songs. I have done many records at that studio, so it's kind of a musical home for me. Once we got started recording, it felt like we were rolling downhill real fast, and it was a sort of thrill ride to the finish. I was leaving on tour in the west of Canada on the 31st of that month and we only had a few days to track the record. I somehow didn't become worried about it though. I was actually excited to hear what this record would sound like, because we were really creating as we went. I was in good hands with co-producer/engineer Rob Heaney, and I knew I had the right players. Experience allowed us to stay cool and enjoy the process. I think that vibe comes out in the record.
It sort of reminded me of the making of my first record, Gravity, which was made in 1999. I had received some financial support to make the record from a Canadian agency called FACTOR. I had a hard deadline to deliver the record and when we finished tracking it, we only had one day to mix it. Actually, not a day. We could only book the mixing studio overnight. We drove to north Montreal as a full band with engineer Andrew Frank. We started in the late evening, around 9 PM as I recall. We had recorded to 1/2-inch tape, so it was an analog mix, and it was all-hands-on-deck. Four or five of us were riding the faders during different tunes to get it done, with Andrew the conductor of the whole thing. It was intense. 13 songs, about 10 hours. Lots of beer to start and then lots of coffee as the night wore on. We finished early the next morning, burned a CD and I got that off to FACTOR right away. It was a testament to how creativity can flourish within constraints because those quick mixes sounded beautiful.
What do you miss most nowadays from the music of past? What are your hopes and fears for the future of?
I think what I miss most is the authenticity of older recordings, where you could hear mistakes: The slightly out of tune guitar or piano, the shaky vocal, the note played with so much force that you hear the buzz of the guitar or the slap of the string on the fretboard—these are what make music real to me, the humanity of a recording. Today, we have to be careful not to use all the technology to autotune and edit the life right out of our recordings. It seems to me that this has happened to a lot of popular music. All the hairs have been combed down until some songs can sound almost robotic.
The future is so up the in air globally, I think music will continue to play a role in how we process all of what is happening, whether with the climate or politically. Music is a sort of constant coping strategy for putting the pain outside and allowing all of humanity to look at it and figure out the best way forward. For me, the future is really about the search for the next song. I am really happy with Walk in the Dark but I am ready to start digging for some new songs and that is exciting for me.
What do you learn about yourself from the blues and what does the blues mean to you?
What don't you learn from the blues? The tradition is so big and the history so long, there is so much honesty and connection within the songs and stories, the blues holds it all. It's really a kind of gift. A means by which we can recognize and acknowledge whatever is happening and find the way forward. And from a songwriting perspective, it's a framework that seems to bends and shifts to hold all the great songs in many styles and traditions.
"My sound and songs have evolved a bit over the years but if there was a theme to it all, I would say it is that I try to find some sort of truth about the human condition in my writing. I work my lyrics and the music until I feel like I am getting at something that is real." (Photo by James St Laurent)
Make an account of the case of the blues in Canada. Which is the most interesting period in local scene?
The blues is alive and well in Canada. There is a flourishing scene here, particularly in the electric blues I would say. But I find myself part of a very solid acoustic roots/folk/blues scene here as well. Lots of great writers and performers and many festivals, events and most importantly, fans.
What has made you laugh lately and what touched (emotionally) you from the local music circuits?
In Quebec, the widely acknowledged leader of the blues for many years was a guy named Bob Walsh. He toured around the province starting in the late 60s I believe and was the consummate showman. Perfectly bilingual, he could joke and entertain in French but sing in English, his mother tongue. He turned a lot of folks in Quebec on to the blues .
Bob was also a sweet guy, very supportive of younger players. I was one of those. I met him at a gig in the 90s, where he sat in and eventually took over the show. When he started recording albums, in the early 2000s, he came to me looking for songs. I eventually wrote two for him, one called The Only Soul that ended up being the title track of one of his albums, and another called When My Time Has Come, about his crazy life and how he would greet death when it came. When Bob died suddenly last year, his longtime manager held a tribute concert for him in Montreal featuring a bunch of the biggest blues acts in the province. His widow Maddy requested I play When My Time Has Come at the show. I had never performed the song, as I had written it specifically for Bob. It was a very emotional night.
Let’s take a trip with a time machine, so where and why would you really want to go for a whole day?
I'm going to assume that this is a music-related question and avoid the obvious choice of going back to see deceased relatives or friends. There are a few of those I would like to spend the day with!
Musically, this is a tantalizing idea. I think in the end, I would like to go back for a day in New Orleans in the mid- to late-1920s and see King Oliver play, and maybe some blues players as well. At that time, Oliver had a young Louis Armstrong in his band. Louis is a bridge back to so much of America's musical past. Through my recent album Parade Day with the band Sussex, I researched and listened to a lot of music from that time and I see it as a sort of germination period for a lot of the music – jazz and blues and roots – that has come since. I think I could find a lot of what I love in music in its earliest incarnations in New Orleans at that time.
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