About That Song: Rachael Kilgour
About That Song #48
In our special series, singer-songwriter Sarah Morris interviews artists about the songs that shaped them.
Hi! I’m Sarah Morris. I’m wildly in love with songs and the people who write them. There have been a few songs in my life that have been total gamechangers—songs that made me want to be a songwriter and songs I’ve written that made me feel like I am a songwriter. About That Song is a space where I can learn more about those pivotal songs in other writers’ lives.
In the 48th edition of this series, I got to talk to Rachael Kilgour! An outstanding singer-songwriter, Rachael put out a new album last year and it’s amazing. We dug into her musical past—including times our paths have crossed—and talked about the songs and artists that helped make her the songwriter she is today.
Rachael Kilgour. Photo credit: Sara Pajunen.
Sarah: Hi Rachael Kilgour!! I’ve been fortunate enough to share a few stages, and one magic moment with Gloria Steinem, with you, but it’s far too long since I’ve had the chance to hear your songs live. Recently you released your 4th album—the utterly gorgeous My Father Loved Me, of which Americana Highways said, “It’s absorbing, an exceptional work. May even be one of the best of 2023.” I’m over here just furiously nodding my head in agreement.
Would you talk about some of the songs that brought you to this spot in your musical journey? Do you remember the song that you heard that made you want to be a songwriter? Tell us about that song.
Rachael: Oh wow! That’s a long way back to dig. I definitely had early influences (Joni Mitchell, Ani Difranco, Paul Simon, Leonard Cohen, Natalie Merchant, Iris Dement and many more) but I remember that I changed the way I thought about songwriting early on the first time I heard Ferron’s “Shady Gate.” It’s this long rambling poem song that reveals her loneliness, her biggest insecurities and lifelong patterns from the source in her childhood all the way through her latest breakup. And it’s not fancy, it’s very simple harmonically and melodically and has quite a few verses. But I did not mind. I wanted to listen over and over and learn something new about being a human.
Sarah: To “learn something new about being a human”; thank goodness for songs that offer that space/those stories. I wonder if there’s something magical in the rather simple musical setup that allows for more of an invitation to listen that way, maybe? John Prine’s music comes to mind immediately as a place where I’ve found myself leaning in for that style of learning in recent years.
Once you began writing, did you feel like a writer immediately? Was there a song that gave you that “a-HA! I AM a songwriter!” moment? Tell us about that song.
Rachael: I played around with writing a bit in high school, but it never felt like mine. There’s always that stage of learning a new skill where we try on other people’s voices and ideas. I was probably around 20 the first time I wrote something that was my own, although it was still heavily colored by my musical influences.
I remember performing an original song on stage for the first time; it was a political one addressing foreign policy I think. And it was messy, it was very black and white thinking, but it was in my own voice. I came from a politically active family and I had always been the shy one. This was the first time I had taken up space and shared my opinion and was heard. My social anxiety had made expressing myself quite difficult up until that moment. The idea of pairing words and music and of taking my time to get a sentiment just right was very appealing to me. And it taught me a lot about how to communicate and connect in other ways.
I think I’ve had the a-ha! moment again and again as I’ve continued to write. Each time a song comes together and smacks me upside the head with some feeling or understanding I hadn’t grasped before.
Sarah: Repeated a-ha moments are a pretty lovely thing. The grasping, or clarification, of something within the untangling of writing a song is my favorite way to learn/relearn/relearn AGAIN.
Once upon a time, you and I sang in a basement in Duluth that was inappropriately warm, pretty much to only each other. I remember being so done in by your songs that I could have cared less where we were—in the very best way! One song I recall falling in love with that night was “Ready Freddie” from your 2017 album Rabbit in the Road; could you tell us about that song?
Rachael: Aw, I remember that night! I loved meeting and hearing you sing—you have an instantly recognizable good soul. I wrote “Ready Freddie” back when my stepdaughter had just turned 13. We’d been pretty tight when she was small and we are again today now that she’s an adult, but adolescence is such a hard time for everyone involved. A kid just wakes up one day seeing the world differently, feeling critical of themselves and critical of everyone else. Motivated to be more independent but also a little terrified. I know she was very frustrated at that time with being parented at all and with the boundaries I enforced. And, like so many of us at that age, she saw the restrictions as distrust and felt rather unloved. I wanted to convince her otherwise, so I embarrassed the hell out of her and wrote this song.
Rachael Kilgour. Photo credit: Sara Pajunen.
Sarah: Let’s talk about your recently released My Father Loved Me. I’ve read that this album was perhaps born from the writing of the song “Dad Worked Hard”—can you tell us about THAT song, perhaps about that moment? Where you know a song is about to bring a project into being?
Rachael: “Dad Worked Hard” is the only one of these songs that I wrote while my dad was living. I didn’t share it with him—the subject felt a little too sensitive for him to hear, although he would’ve been proud to be the star of the song! I had watched him fall apart for nearly 10 years with a slow-moving dementia diagnosis. It didn’t attack his memory right away so much as his ability to DO things and to reason.
The thing I had always known about my dad is that he was a very hard worker, that he had a lot of pride in finishing a job well, being generous with his time and labor, and in his physical strength. But he’d also had a very small one-man contracting business that did not make him rich. Not monetarily rich, anyway.
As he was declining, it just hit me how very unfair it was that we were limited in the kind of care we could provide for him. How silly that we compensate different kinds of work to such extremes—while some families struggle, others make more than they need and are able to multiply their wealth into retirement. And when it comes to human dignity, to end-of-life care or beginning-of-life care for that matter, it felt clear that money shouldn’t be a factor.
Sarah: Oh yes, it should not be. Thank you for stating that explicitly. Earlier in the album you state “This is love—this seeing it through.” This line from “How I Was Made” feels to me like the tenderest of declarations, and a summation for the album (or maybe just the most necessary of reminders for all of us). Can you tell us about that song?
Rachael: I love this song and the production so much. It’s the only one I finished while we were in the studio recording, having saved it for last. I’d wanted to write about my parents’ marriage for so long but didn’t have the words. I didn’t see a lot of tenderness between my parents, although I thankfully didn’t see fighting either. But I did often question if they really loved one another or if I had been an accident.
When my dad passed I found myself looking at old pictures and asking Mom a lot of questions about how they began. Of course there was a love story to be told and it had a spark at the beginning and this nearly 50-year familial commitment that was foundational to how I see the world and my own adult partnerships. I learned a lot from them about how I want to love and how I don’t want to love—both equally important.
I’ll note that the full, big band production on this song was the most wonderful surprise. Rose Cousins, who produced the record, got a feel for what the song meant to me and quietly did a lot of post-production work (string arrangements etc) with the help of some talented friends. She delivered the first mix with these huge orchestra swells and I just WEPT the first time I heard it. Also the second and third and fourth time.
Sarah: What a beautiful surprise! To receive a first mix complete with orchestral swells I didn’t know were coming sounds like…the best gift ever. I’m wondering—do you have any Midwest shows coming up in the next few months where we might hear you sing that song, or any other song for that matter? (With or without orchestral swells?)
Rachael: I wish I had more! I just had my show in Minneapolis at Icehouse at the end of April and don’t have too many lined up in the Midwest. I’ll be in Sandstone, MN at the end of July. I’ll be traveling a lot in the coming months but will be sure to add some more dates around here.
I will say it really has been special to curate this Dad show and to weave together songs and stories about him and about my processing his death. I’ve had such wonderful conversations with listeners about fatherhood and grief and I am grateful for it.
Listen to “How I Was Made”
My Father Loved Me Album Credits
Produced by Rose Cousins
Engineered and Mixed by Chris Stringer
Assistant Engineered by Darren McGill
Recorded at Union Sound Company, Toronto, ON
Mastered by João Carvalho, João Carvalho Mastering
Rachael: guitar, voice
Joshua Van Tassel: percussion, synth
Devon Henderson: electric and upright bass
Robbie Grunwald: keys, synth
Dean Drouillard: electric guitars
Dietrich Strause: piano, trumpet
Kinley Dowling: violin, viola
Asa Brosius: pedal steel
Natalie Williams Calhoun: cello
David Christensen: clarinet
Strings arranged by Rose Cousins
All songs written by Rachael Kilgour (BMI) except track 10 “Cowboy’s Dream” (trad.)
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sarah Morris. Photo credit: Tom Smouse.
Sarah Morris is a superfan of songs and the people who write them, and a believer that certain songs can change your life. A singer-songwriter / mama / bread maker / coffee drinker who recently released her fifth album of original material, she’s been known to joyfully sing with people in her Big Green Bathroom.
