to work with alt-country super-producer
Dave Cobb (Chris Stapleton, Sturgill
Simpson, Brandi Carlile). (Cobb previously
produced “Breathless” for Prince,
though Nolan produced the rest of
Earthly Days).
“We did a dozen songs in Winnipeg
in addition to the songs we did in Nashville.
It was finding the right connection,
the right blend of the two so that sonically
it sounds like it’s together,” Prince
says. On the finished 11-song album,
Nolan is credited as the producer on six
songs and Cobb on the other five. “It’s
beautiful how the records support each
other, made in two different places, and
I think we captured everything authentically.
That’s why I am so happy with it
now.”
In writing Reliever, Prince says he
was chronicling an emotionally-turbulent
time in his life: the highs and lows that
have come since finishing Earthly Days.
“The Reliever record is a time in my
life where I had a lot of growing to do.
Dealing with the death of my dad, separation,
wishing to be with somebody, becoming
a new dad, and then your song
‘Breathless’ taking you all over the world.
It’s a real interesting salad of feelings
and emotions,” he reflects. “It was just
a matter of collecting the right pieces
to represent the whole era properly and
then putting it together in the studio. I
wasn’t in a rush; I just wanted it to sound
right and feel right.”
For those fans – this writer included
– who were drawn to Earthly Days because
of Prince’s lyricism, there is plenty
to dissect on Reliever. What is especially
evident throughout the record is his ability
to paint an emotional picture in your
mind with a few words about a common
experience.
Here’s one example from the
opening verse of “Always Have What We
Had”: This place is unfamiliar/Can’t even
set the shower/Hot and cold merely for
display. On the one hand, it’s a scene
anyone who’s ever stayed a hotel knows,
but yet in just a few words about finicky
shower knobs, Prince captures the
essence of loneliness.
I mentioned this line to Prince in
our conversation and his smile relayed
gratitude for an acknowledgement of his
lyrical prowess. “That’s a great one to
pick up on. I’m glad you appreciate that!”
he beams. “It actually talks about three
different things. It talks about when I
used to live with my son’s mother and
the shower there, and then I have this
apartment that was just kept because
we were apart off and on, and then
again, like you say, the unfamiliarity of
different hotels.
“You know, a long time ago, before
the internet, I kind of conceptualized the
idea that everything has really been said,
so it’s up to the ones who want to dig
deeper to say it in a different way. I think
that’s all I’ve been doing,” Prince elaborates.
“I just think, ‘What can I contribute
that is unique in its own sense?’ It’s just
my own perspective of placing words together
in a new way – you know, not the
ordinary or predicted rhyme, perhaps.
That’s a fun challenge. That’s honestly
just shooting baskets, man. A thousand
free throws a day.”
As is common to hear from great
songwriters, Prince says part of his skill
came from listening with intent to other
great songwriters. Millions of people
have listened to Kris Kristofferson or
John Prine, for example, but not every
fan dissects what they’re saying and
how they’re saying it.
“Generally, we’re all in love and in
search of healing of certain sorts. So,
those common themes, how do we
make those not sound so common?
That’s the challenge within the writing
and the fun part that never really goes
away for me. Like, how can I say it today
and create it this time?” he adds.
One thing Prince has yet to tackle
overtly in his songs, though, is the
Indigenous experience – particularly the
prejudice and violence Indigenous peoples
face daily in Canada, and the other
issues and struggles rooted in systemic
racism. It’ll likely happen, he says; he just
needs to find the right words. Because
while he may put pressure on himself
to find the right words to describe love
and loss, he senses a heavy external
pressure to find the right things to say
about (and for) his community.
“People ask me to. I think about
them all the time and it’s tough because
all those people and their struggles just
represent the family I grew up with and
around on a reserve. It’s funny, there’s
almost this… how do I put it? People are
hoping, I guess, that I’ll address those
issues at some point and at the moment
I am still learning. I guess going back to
address the success of colonialism, you
know, I am a product of it,” he says.
He also feels wary of superseding
other Indigenous artists and activists
who have dedicated their life’s work to
understanding and confronting these
issues.
“I think about it all the time,” he
says again. “Truthfully, at the moment,
I just don’t want to write or vocalize
those things because I’m still collecting
the information. There’s a time coming
because there are a few songs I’ve kept
close to my chest about those things…
You know, my mom is a part of the
Sixties Scoop and her brothers and sisters
were thrown throughout the foster
system. So, all those things lie on my
skin at all times. I have no shortage of
inspiration; I am just choosing the right
moment to say, ‘Here’s what I’ve noticed
over the last while.’”
Through both choice and circumstance,
that idea of “the right time” has been
the guiding principle to his career in
music, and so far, it has worked out for
the best. So what if a global pandemic
has kept him home instead of touring?
He wasn’t in rush before and he’s not in
a rush now because William Prince has
faith in the power of his songs.
“I hope to write music that doesn’t
have an expiry. You know, it has its
era, but continues to be part of my life
forever.”
Michael Raine is the Senior Editor of
Canadian Musician
CANADIAN MUSICIAN 37