After that self-indulgent wankfest that I wrote last month on the Balconies, I’ve been hard-pressed to figure out what to do with myself in present and future articles. Even King Frankenstein, our esteemed Assistant Editor asked me how I planned to up the ante this time - and with great skepticism and apprehension I might add. I said then that I didn’t really know, and I suppose that I still don’t really know now, but I do know one thing for certain: I can’t go back. After making such magnificently arrogant statements as I did, I really don’t see any way that I can go back on them – unfortunately for everyone, I can only go outrageous and bold from here on out. Maybe someday I’ll get bored, I dunno… It’s just unavoidable, I’m sorry.
Well, what’s done is done. Moving on!
I’ve been sitting on this interview for a while, trying to figure out how to tackle it – this guy’s a fucking legend, he’s a ghost, he’s notoriously difficult to pin down: Jon-Rae.
Picture this friends: it’s the Spring of 2007 and you’re at Lee’s preparing to have your shit just fucked right good fucked up by Constantines – the most earthshakingly righteous and awesome live band in the country, that fist-pumping, chest-thumping mighty Can-Rock machine that leaves hearts full and buildings crashed in their wake wherever they go – and the opening act is some local band that could only ironically be called the River. And sure enough, just as their moniker would suggest, they’re sporting a booze-soaked , amped-up brand of alt-country that says old-school broken hearts and cracked vinyl, but screams one step removed from Arts and Crafts. And they’re lead by this skinny little man that looks like he was pulled out of the audience at random before the show, like they were looking for just any regular guy to play – just a painfully nondescript character.
This unassuming little man is Jon-Rae Fletcher and you don’t have a fucking clue what you’re in for.
At some point, and I’ll never be sure just when, but at some point I realized that this seemingly uncouth bar-band was going to miraculously out-earnest the Constantines and at some point shortly afterward, I realized how utterly right I was. The unholy racket the River made had me transfixed in a way that no opening act ever had nor would again until I saw Zeus for the first time last October. For one, the band was overwhelmingly tight, pedal steel and all; they were ferocious in their indie-country assault, playing with fierce rawness and Mr. Fletcher, as it turned out, has a massively powerful and emotive voice and as far as his songwriting went, the dude’s got fucking chops.
Constantines were fucking uncontrollably wicked as per usual, but I could for the life of me shake the impression the River left on me.
Two years later, Horseshoe Tavern, United Steel Workers of Montreal CD release party: unassuming skinny man, this time sporting gigantic-framed glasses, a 50s-esque hardtop haircut and a band that I would later discover could barely play their instruments. Jon-Rae Fletcher. In an unprecedented move, his half-hour set with his feeble backing band brings forth such a veritable tidal wave of passion and heart that he would go on to receive the only encore I’ve ever seen taken by an opening act. Fucking legit.
I ran into the man himself at the merch table afterward, where I bought a copy of his first album sans the River, Oh Maria, and just as I suspected, he was pretty much the nicest guy ever. He agreed to meet up with me for an interview a couple days later and in the meantime, I was left to soak up Maria.
The phrase “tour de force” is not one that I like to throw around, in fact this might be the first time I’ve ever used it in writing. I think part of the reason why I held off on writing about the album for so long, is that I was afraid that my initially hyperbolic reaction to it would somehow wear off and I didn’t want to speak too soon. It’s been a couple months since then and I think I actually love it more than I did before.
Equal parts triumphant and heartbreaking, Oh Maria’s ten tracks smolder with an unparalleled fiery, drunken anguish that reeks through every pore, and a shit-hot sincerity that makes other alt-country-hipsters like Ryan Adams seem like the biggest tools. Apparently a concept-album of sorts, though exactly about what, I’m not entirely clear on; when asked, Jon-Rae only told me about another idea that he had but didn’t pursue.
“Well, the idea behind it – I don’t really like to use the word ‘concept’, but it kind of is. It’s a story, all of the songs are important to the story. There are a few other songs I kind of wish I had wrote, like I had this idea for maybe this mother in town, telling this story to her children about this monster that lives in the forest. But I never got to that.”
That said, it is fairly easy to see how the songs of Oh Maria fit together so well. Written over a period of just two weeks and recorded in only four hours, the album which Jon-Rae describes as his best effort yet, is cover-to-cover gold with each track sparkling with Fletcher’s soft-spoken wit and charm and simple-yet-provocative folk instrumentation. The record’s concise running time assures that not one song becomes stale and while relatively simple in nature, this is almost certainly one of the cleverest, most oldschool-badass and impassioned albums you’re likely to listen to all year.
And if that wasn’t enough, Jon-Rae is probably the most earnest man in Canada; an extremely soft-spoken and overwhelmingly likeable guy who answered most of my questions more or less monosyllabically and yet without a trace of aloofness. However, rarely does one meet a man that seems so utterly content with what he’s doing, Fletcher just appears to be a man of the simple pleasures, showing a great love for his music and his friends at all times.
When explaining the inexplicable cover art of Oh Maria, Jon-Rae merely shrugs saying, “I gave the album to my friend Steven Cooper and told him to paint a painting of whatever he wanted; to listen to the album a few times and paint whatever – and that’s just what he came up with.” I’m fairly sure that Fletcher spent more time of the interview chuckling and shrugging than actually answering my questions, which I think is really cool, because so many people think that when they do an interview that they should give really long-winded, rambling responses – it’s far more interesting to see someone who just chuckles and shrugs, even when asked about the demise of the River and his move to Victoria last summer.
“I had to leave Toronto,” he says cryptically. “Yeah, I couldn’t stay, so… I left. I was going to come back, but I found this girl.” Just rolling with the punches.
I asked him about his songwriting process and he cited Will Oldham as his biggest influence, lyrically and then declared that he was notoriously slow when it comes to songwriting, “I’ve sort of started this project, where I’m trying to force myself to write songs. I’m trying to write a song a week. So far I’ve got two songs in two months.” What a champion.
Abruptly and exuberantly, a light bulb goes on over his head. “You wanna see something cool?” he says boisterously and he pulls out of his back pocket a tiny book.
“The Observer’s Guide to Astronomy,” I say, reading the cover.
“It fits in your pocket!” he exclaims, almost as though he doesn’t quite believe it.
So after much talk of traveling Canada, tattoos, weed and literature, I met in Jon-Rae Fletcher a painfully sincere guy, wondrous and grateful for everything his life, easygoing and wide-eyed to the end and in general a warm, charming and likeable man of the earth – pretty much exactly the sort of chap we Canadians want in our corner. Also, he’s one of the most fiercely talented songwriters in the land, imbuing his simple country numbers with an overwhelming abundance of heart, soul and subtle wit. When I met him at Zoots coffee shop on Dundas West, at least five people approached him and hugged him and slapped his back like they were all the best of buds; and when I asked him about his move he said that the thing he missed most about Toronto was all of his friends, which as such a beloved character as he clearly is, must number roughly half the city. Moreso than anyone else I’ve ever interviewed did I want to truly count him as a friend of mine after little more than a cup of coffee.
Actually, I guess that was pretty straightforward.
Well, what’s done is done. Moving on!
