Canadian Musician September / October 2019 | Page 62

PHOTO: JEN SQUIRES
BUSINESS
Leela Gilday is an award-winning singer/songwriter from the Dene Nation. The endless midnight sun and
the deep, dark winter nights have inspired five albums and a 30-year performing career. She lives and makes
music from her hometown of Yellowknife, NT, and her new album, North Star Calling, is out Sept. 6, 2019.
By Leela Gilday
The Deep Dive
Life as a Musician in a Small Northern Town
I
am sitting in the office/rehearsal space
I share with my husband. The sun hasn’t
set yet and it’s 11 p.m. A fox runs by my
window, hot on the trail of something
delicious. My home is Yellowknife, NT.
We are the metropolis of northern Canada.
We are 18,000 people strong, which is a tiny,
“don’t blink or you’ll miss it” town in the south,
but the biggest city here in Denendeh. I re-
member when I was a kid, I lived in an even
smaller town (Edzo, a Tli Cho settlement an
hour outside of Yellowknife) and we would
drive to town for groceries, candy, and maybe
a chance to ride the only escalator. When I
grew up and we moved into the big city, we
actually had a mall, a public elevator, and a
fancy indoor waterfall. We used to ride that
elevator behind the waterfall up and down
the two floors just for the thrill.
We spent most of our time outdoors. We
walked to school even in -50, we went out
on the boat or the Ski-Doo just to be on the
water or the land. Everyone knew everyone’s
name and who their relations were.
This is the environment in which I was
raised. This is what shaped my music, along
with the love of my family, the many diverse
characters who come into sharp focus in a
small town, and the global-level changes that
often have profound impacts in small indus-
try-based settlements. Ten years ago, having
completed my music education in the south
and lived the required number of years in
both Toronto and Vancouver, I moved home.
It is where my heart is, so although it was a
tough business decision, it was the only real
choice for me. Many people are drawn back
to the small places they are born. It’s like the
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land and the people make a mark on you that
pulls you back.
Coming & Going
One common experience of living in a small
town is the leaving. As artists, we leave to
pay our dues, we leave to make our mark,
then we leave to play gigs because a pop-
ulation of 18,000 is not enough to sustain a
year-round career. And we leave so that we
can have a fighting chance at a measure of
success. It’s important to stay on the radar of
the people in the big cities, the ones making
the programming and funding decisions.
It’s also important to immerse yourself in
the creative milieu of a city where the arts
flourish. Finding creative stimulation through
meeting and hearing other artists is essential,
and living in a small town where you are one
of a handful of professional musicians can
get very lonely.
Facing Obstacles
I face a lot of obstacles as a northern perform-
er – not just the additional cost of bringing
me into a festival or theatre show, but the
cost of sharing my music with my own
people. In order to fly from my community
of Yellowknife, NT to Deline, NT, which is
400 km away, I will either spend $1,600 on
a round-trip air ticket or drive for 18 hours
on a winter road built only for 4x4 trucks.
Not to mention the cost of traveling to the
south in our vast country. This is something
only northern performers face, and not just
because it costs more to travel here. Recently,
my band has been coming north a lot more.
Every time they come here or return home, it
takes them a full day of travel to make it and
a couple of days to adjust. I remind them that
every time they see me, I have usually just
made that full-day journey, with all the crazy
time changes and shifts that jet travel brings
to the body and soul. It is truly exhausting.
Making It Work
The payoff of living back home is the con-
tinued connection with my own history,
family, and environment, and not just as a
visitor. For artists in particular, the balance
of career success and personal wellbeing
and mental health is key. For me, it means
being grounded in a community that knows
me, loves me, and supports me. It means
going out on the boat or the Ski-Doo just to
connect with the water and land. It means
that I know that elder’s name over there that
held me when I was a baby, that I can cook
fish over a fire with my cousins pretty much
any afternoon I want to, or that I can listen to
and dance to the music of my people almost
how it was thousands of years ago. I am part
of the fabric of life that songwriters so often
find ourselves on the outside of.
There’s something special about coming
from a very small, unique place. It has given
me endless inspiration. Because the people
I meet are not in a rush to go to the next
show, the next commitment, they have time
to stop and talk, to tell me their story, and
show me pictures. You really get to know
someone in a small town. As a songwriter,
this affects the range of topics you address
in your craft, and how deep you can dive.
And I always long for the deep dive.