I found this album recently in the dollar bin of a Belltown Punk record store, one of the only record stores left in the area. Tucked in among CDs of Stevie Ray Vaughn, Sinéad O'Connor and other sonic detritus, I happily snatched out Julie Doiron and the Wooden Stars (1999).
I am a Julie Doiron true believer. There is a plaintive, narcotic quality to her music that I believe taps into an emotional cosmic background radiation of peaceful sadness. I am of the opinion that this state of peaceful sadness, though it might sound frou-frou, is the best state we can hope for, a place we will hopefully find ourselves when all is said and done and we're ready to shuffle off this mortal coil.
To get the flavor of what I am talking about here, sample track seven, titled "Seven," from Julie Doiron and the Wooden Stars:
Wooden Stars are, like Doiron herself, Canadian. Their sound on this record has obviously been influenced by Sonic Youth. It is interesting to consider that this indie rock "shining city on a hill," now 16 years old, still beckons.
So impressed with the album, I gifted it to my new boss, a woman of 37 years, who is the first of her sex to lead the central labor council where I am presently employed.
Since she was raised in the post-rock indie-rock riot-grrrl sonic milieu, attending Red Stars Theory shows and listening to Bikini Kill and Team Dresch, I thought she would like it.
But she basically rejected it. Too sad, she said. It made her want to cry.