On National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, Star Tracks showcases Indigenous music

Sept. 30 marks the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation — a day to honour the children who did not return home and survivors of residential schools, their families and communities.

In this week’s edition of Star Tracks, we decided to showcase the variety of music created by Indigenous Peoples — both new songs and old favourites.

This week’s playlist includes songs from Buffy Sainte-Marie, The Trade-Offs, Asyanabee, Richard Inman, Wolf Castle, Tagaq, and Zoon.

Click here to listen along to the Spotify playlist.

Buffy Sainte-Marie: Soldier Blue / My Country ’Tis of Thy People You’re Dying

A few weeks ago I was walking down Front Street when the song “Solider Blue” by Buffy Sainte-Marie came on shuffle. I’ve heard it countless times and know the words like the back of my hand, but after leaving the Star’s newsroom, they hit me a little harder, especially as stories from James Smith Cree Nation continued to — rightfully — flood our pages.

“When the news stories get me down / I take a drink of freedom to think of / North America from toe to crown / It’s never long before / I know just why I belong here,” Sainte-Marie sings with that iconic voice of hers over a folk-rock song.

Buffy is a staple in Indigenous households, with a voice that transcends generations. While this song may have been released in 1971, the words, like the words in all her songs, remain relevant.

Her 1966 song “My Country ’tis of Thy People You’re Dying” — written during the civil rights movement — is often referred as a lesson about Indigenous Peoples for non-Indigenous people.

“Now that the longhouses breed superstition / You force us to send our toddlers away / To your schools where they’re taught to despise their traditions / Forbid them their languages,” she sings with nothing but a guitar track in the background in reference to residential schools and American Indian boarding schools that forcefully separated Indigenous children from their families and communities. “And yet where in your history books is the tale / Of the genocide basic to this country’s birth? / Of the preachers who lied? / How the Bill of Rights failed? / How a nation of patriots returned to their earth?”

“My country ‘tis of thy people you’re dying.”— Alessia Passafiume

The Trade-Offs: Put ’Em Down

From 1950 to the mid-1970s, the federal government and the RCMP used a variety of violent colonial practices to dispossess Inuit communities from their land and move them into government run settlements. The government has acknowledged that these practices included forced relocation, family separation and the killing of sled dogs (called qimmiit in Inuktitut).

The heartbreaking slaughter and decline of qimmiit is the subject of the “Put ’Em Down,” the latest song from the “Arctic soul” group The Trade-Offs, released specifically for the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation.

“Put ’em down they said/ Put ’em down, use lead/ No more mushing, they said,” sings vocalist Josh Qaumariaq, his husky voice straining amid bluesy slide guitar and honky-tonk piano. In a statement, Qaumariaq says the song is about the government sled dog killings, “but it’s also about trying to put us as a people down and erase our culture — a truth I don’t even know a lot about because it has been kept so quiet.” — Richie Assaly

Wolf Castle: Get Lit

Violins are one the must underrated instruments in hip hop. Over classical violins and classic boom-bap drums, Mi’kmaq rapper Wolf Castle offers a double-coated rumination. Filled with fun rhymes like “Men in black going stupid going looney,” and “Test your might, one hit could change your life/ Freaky freaky, I’m hotter than Wasabi,” Castle brings levity to slow a classical-infused track that begs for contrast. But cloaked by the humour filled verses, Castle’s hook is one that demands freedom, criticizing those who ask for it while still maintaining sugary repetition. The term “get lit” serves as a double entendre that’s well disguised but a closer reading at the lyrics reveals a call to action. Able to switch flows within verses Castle brings pace to an otherwise soothing track as he bounces between rapping about clothes, liberation, and self-realization. — Demar Grant

Asyanabee: Nomads

There is nothing greater than bearing witness to honest and clear lyricism and an unwavering presence of reclamation. Asyanabee is at the Canadian (Turtle Island) mountaintop and all should be listening. Toronto-based and Oji-Cree, Asyanabee was the first artist signed to the recently started Indigenous-owned label, Ishkode Records. On “Nomads,” he breathes new life into the folk sounds we all know and love, bringing up the deeply rooted emotions and triumphs of Indigenous Peoples — namely his grandfather, who went through the forcibly enacted Residential School system. “Nomads” is about reconnection and the yearning for community, healing and self-love. Music is the universal language and through his words — short and sweet but encapsulating a forest of thoughts and experiences — and moving melodies, he ties generations of strife and accomplishments together. Asyanabee is your one to watch and for this, I couldn’t be happier. — Annette Ejiofor

Richard Inman: Waiting on the River

If you want to capture the unique feeling of driving solo down a highway between far-flung rural towns, go ahead and throw on “Come Back Through,” the latest album from countryfolk songwriter Richard Inman. Blessed with a warm but weary baritone, Inman’s tales — which tackle familiar heartland subjects like trucks, horses, the oilpatch, whiskey and heartbreak — are delivered with a mix of humility and hard-won wisdom, accompanied by sparse and twangy instrumentation that conveys the lonely comfort of a big prairie sky.

On “Waiting on the River,” Inman adopts the role of a downcast and hung up lover, dwelling on a simple memory: “You said don’t you know/ Throwing money out’s bad luck/ Now I keep my quarters, nickels in order in a billfold in my truck,” he sings over a simple guitar strum, a touch of sweetness in his voice. But the memory quickly evaporates: “Now I’m digging for change, waiting on the river/ just hoping that my liver and my luck hold out,” Inman admits over a forlorn fiddle, as that old familiar ache returns. — RA

Tanya Tagaq: Teeth Agape

An ever-eerie escalation, “Teeth Agape” is one of those tracks that channel unbridled rage into unleashed wrath. The building, buzzing synths, paired with the distant howl to start the track set the stage for Tanya Tagaq’s transformation. While lyrically sparse, simplicity is key as Tagaq illustrates how visceral the destruction will be if you “Touch my children / And my teeth welcome your windpipe” as enraged vocals tilt otherworldly. While the verses move at a glacial pace, the constant heartbeat of the drums coupled with Tagaq’s snarls and heavy breathing turn what could have been a plodding track into one that haunts the listener with her presence. — DG

Zoon (feat. Leanne Betasamosake Simpson): Astum

On the stirring debut album from the OMBIIGIZI, Daniel Monkman and Adam Sturgeon demonstrated how music and storytelling can transform pain into beauty and affirmation. Monkman continues on “Big Pharma,” an EP from his solo project Zoon that was released in June. The five-song record, which explores the role of pharmaceutical companies in the overdose crisis in Indigenous communities, breathes new life into Monkman’s unique style of experimental shoegaze (or what is sometimes referred to as “moccasin-gaze”) through collaborations with rapper Cadence Weapon, composer Michael Peter Olsen and others.

On “Astum” — which means “hurry up” in Cree — Monkman, joined by Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg writer and artist Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, trades the wall-of-sound approach of My Bloody Valentine for the lighter, dreamier touch of Yo La Tengo. “You’ll change/ I want to believe it,” Monkman muses midway through the track, before the composition expands into a swirl of strings and delicate psychedelia. A sense of loss lingers over the track, but it’s hope that rises in the end. — RA

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