Music

Sam Roberts talks industry pressures, rejects title of "iconic Canadian"

by Anne T. Donahue

Iconized as a touchstone of Canada’s rock and roll landscape, you’d be surprised to learn that Sam Roberts has no interest in pandering to the ideal he sometimes seems synonymous with. And with a sixth full-length album under his belt, you could say that his refusal to accept such a role has worked in his favour.

“I don’t feel pressure,” Roberts begins. “I realize that it exists to some degree, but I don’t think any of the people that listen to our music, [who] buy our records or [who] come to our concerts would actually want that from us. I don’t think that’s what they signed on for in any way, and I think that even the most ‘Canadian’ Canadian would recognize that that’s not the path we’re meant to walk down.”

“So it’s never influenced any of my career decisions,” he continues. “To preserve this ideal . . . it’s a very restricting mantle to carry. [And] I think if they identify me with that, it’s very flattering, but these things need to be put away before you actually sit down and put pen to paper.”

The recently released Collider marks yet another benchmark in the Sam Roberts legacy, and has thrown a curveball to audiences who’ve seen the “funkier” installment break with typical Sam Roberts tradition.

“I don’t think it’s so much conscious as it is a natural result of how your life changes in-between your writing,” he explains. “Then broader circumstances, changes in your family life . . . it could be anything [that] changes how you approach song writing without you actually sitting there and saying, ‘this time we’ll do things differently.’”

Change has been constant for the Montreal rocker, whose decade-long career has been subject to the receiving end of the musics industry’s insatiable on-to-the-next climate; one that Roberts has been self-admittedly freed by.

“I don’t think we ever realized how deep [the industry] was going to change and how much it was going to cut into everything we do,” he admits. “And [it’s] one of those things where it’s not like we don’t think about it: it’s our livelihood. But when you sit down to write music, [you have to do it in] an untainted, undisturbed sanctuary in a sense where you can block all of it out.”

“Otherwise, how can you make creative decisions that revolve around a flailing industry?” he adds. “Who are you going to pander to at this point? In a way it’s freeing, because there is no one really to pander to. Nobody can do you any favours, [and] you’re out there on your own. The whole idea of artist development is sort of thrown out of the window now: you either get it or you don’t get it. So it’s pretty precarious environment.”