ShoShona Kish is one-half of the Canadian First Nations power couple Digging Roots.
Formed in 2004, the duo have travelled the world with their radical message of hope in the face of oppression. Last year, ShoShona curated ‘Anishinabekwe’, a concert showcasing the music of five other indigenous musicians.
We caught up with the singer to reflect on her upcoming spot at ‘Songs That Made Me’ in Brisbane, presented by QPAC and Women of the World as part of Festival 2018.
It’s exciting to see you on the line-up at the WOW festival. Who are the female musicians you look up to and are inspired by?
Chi Miigwetch (thank you so much). I am thrilled to be a part of this line-up. There are so many women that I look up to. I have been deeply moved and inspired by Buffy St Marie as an activist and songwriter.
I love Billie Holiday, Ricki Lee Jones, Pura Fe, Tina Turner. Lauryn Hill, Joni Mitchell, Erykah Badu, Marie Daulne and Nina Simone. Aretha. It’s hard to narrow it to only a few here, as there are so many powerful, talented bad-ass women who have inspired me.
What advice would you give to the next generation of female musicians entering the industry?
I would say be courageous and honest. Work hard, be relentless, be kind, know where you come from, find your voice and then be fiercely and unapologetically you.
Believe in yourself and lift up the voices of other artists, other women. None of us do this alone, it’s about relationship and community.
How do you challenge expectations of who you should be and how you should act as a female, indigenous musician?
This is an interesting question. The stereotypes, misconceptions and disinformation about indigenous peoples in Canada are real obstacles.
The common images of indigenous women in many cases are meant to dehumanise us. Whether it be the two dimensional ’nobel savage’ or ‘Indian princess’ tropes or the exoticised, over-sexualised ‘Poca-hottie’, it’s something I have to address regularly.
I have often received ‘professional’ advice that I should be more traditional, more Indian, more commercial, more accessible, more polite, more radical, more sexy… less sexy. You name it, at some point someone has had an opinion about it.
It’s amazing how much liberty people give themselves to tell us who they think we should be. I have never changed course artistically or personally based on those things. At the end of the day... I have to stay true to myself, my teachings and my community.
I haven’t shied away from talking about these issues. I have taken it on from the stage in the songs, through the stories I tell and the presentation at our concerts. It’s also not always overt, I like subtle subversion and I like metaphor.
I also work with music industry organisations, give talks and sit on a lot of panels on this topics. I think it’s important to break the silence around these issues and introduce new narratives that speak to our truth and perspective as indigenous women and women of colour.
This past summer I worked with our National Art Centre to produce a concert called ‘Anishinabekwe’. It was a celebration of indigenous women’s voices. Our goal was to highlight the magnitude of talent and breadth of diversity of indigenous women from across the county.
These women challenge the expectations and stereotypes simply by being themselves. We will be touring the show in 2019/ 2020.
Do you ever feel at odds with the automatic responsibility you’re given to be a ‘spokesperson’ for your community?
I do at times. There are moments I would simply like to be responsible and present to my own human experience or challenges.
I am also always uncomfortable when I am asked to speak for others. I am from the woodlands. I am Ojibway Anishinabekwe. Indigenous nations and communities are extraordinarily diverse. There are many of us working and moving together, but we are over 500 distinct nations. I can only speak from my understandings and my teachings.
That said, I am part of a beautiful, dynamic community and I am very proud and honoured to stand with them and be part of the movement and the discourse.
How was the experience of playing a home-town show in Barrie after four years away?
It was amazing. We had family and friends in the audience, long-time supporters and fans, the mayor of Barrie came along. We have been out on the road for long stretches recently, and just being home among familiar faces felt special.
What new material have you been developing since your last single, 'AK47', was released in 2016?
We have been working in the studio in the short moments we have been off the road. It’s been a real challenge getting to the recording, but I am extremely excited about the music that’s coming. It feels like it’s the music that I have always wanted to make.
I also think it’s the most personal record we’ve made so I'm still a little protective of these songs. The new album is called ‘The Hunter And The Healer’.
Your songs consistently call audiences to show more love to the world, even amid hate and tragedy. How do you grapple with injustices like the deaths of indigenous youth without losing hope?
I am so grateful that I have music; it’s medicine for me and really helps move that energy and give voice to things. It allows me a way of responding and to counterbalance the feelings of anger or hopeless.
The justice system in Canada was not built to protect or serve indigenous people - it’s a hard truth to face. Our sons and daughters have not been and will not be protected by the justice system.
I have two beautiful indigenous sons; they deserve a just world, they deserve protection and equality. So it begs the question: if the police, courts and governments won’t protect our children, what does that mean? To me, it means very clearly that we have to protect them. I am thinking hard about that. I am not a cynic, and I refuse to be, so I turn to our teachings.
In the face of it all, courage and kindness are more important than ever. My work, my weapon has always been art... music. I believe music has the potential to be a transformative force, I have witnessed it and felt it myself.
I am more focused and clear than ever about the work right now. Love needs to be at the centre, and until the change we need comes this is the best way I know to protect them.
You were in the country earlier this year for a string of shows and a spot on the Woodford Folk Festival bill - what do you enjoy about performing in Australia?
There are many things I love about Australia - the land, the ocean - and I dream differently when I’m there. I appreciate the openness of Australian audiences. It’s amazing to play to crowds that don’t know us and get that kind of joyful response.
I also deeply appreciate the connection that I feel to the indigenous family in Australia. We have been welcomed and hosted here so graciously and had the opportunity to collaborate and share songs, stories and ceremony.
We share a familiar connection to the land and the ancestors. We also share a struggle with the impacts of oppression and cultural genocide. Our brothers and sisters here continue to face the same colonial policies and practices that we are resisting at home.
And I have learned so much from hearing about the resistance here; like at home there remains an incredible power, strength and resilience.
You’ve been performing as a duo for over a decade, now - how has your approach to songwriting and performing changed over the years?
When Raven and I started working together, there was an immediate creative chemistry and we were almost effortlessly drawn into writing and playing together. I think that remains at the core of what we do.
We have a very natural rapport, but like anything it takes work for it to keep growing. We have our rituals and processes that have developed.
It used to be that we would bring very different ideas from our individual songwriting practice and find ways to complement each other's work. Now, I think we often begin the process together and with intention; though we both continue to write on our own.
We weave ideas together and edit together. We also take inspiration from traditional Anishinabe methods of songwriting. A few years ago we learned about a community practice called ‘Song Lines’.
Back in the day, one of the ways that Anishinabe wrote songs was to take inspiration and structure from the contours of the horizon. For example, where there was a mountain the melody would rise, where there was a valley the melody would dip, and if the land was flat there would be a drone.
Songs belonged to a specific place. We have applied this to our songwriting, making most of the our last two albums that way.
How is your music impacted by your experiences of travelling and immersing yourself in other cultures?
Travelling as a musician is the best way to see the world. It isn’t like being a tourist, it’s the experience of being a guest. In that way I feel like our travels have allowed us very intimate experience of places, and gorgeous, generous people and to learn about other traditions.
We have eaten oysters fresh out of the water on the shores in Arnhem Land, gone reindeer herding on the tundra in Norway, dog sledding in the Arctic, had ceremonies at the moon pyramid in Mexico. These privileged experiences have changed me. They have inspired me and kept me humble.
It’s like the lifeblood of creativity, this confluence of ideas and experiences. I think most profoundly the impact has flowed from the brilliance of diversity and uniqueness and even more so from the similarities and common ground we have found everywhere we go.
It sparks something in our humanity, to find that we are more the same than we are different. And the land… the staggering beauty of this planet. I can’t overstate it. I think this is the spark in our music that comes from our travels.
With the recent release of your son’s EP, how does it feel to have your kids following in your musical footsteps?
We never wanted to push our sons in one direction or another, we hoped to nurture them in a way that allowed them to find their own voices and their own paths. I kind of figured they would end up scientists or engineers or something.
But it’s clear to us at this point that both our sons are musicians. It’s a challenging path ahead for them and I do worry, like all mothers before me, but we couldn’t be more proud. They came to it themselves and we want to support them and open any doors we can.
Our eldest is already touring and doing session work as a drummer and percussionist, and now our youngest is a songwriter and guitar player. When he recorded his EP a couple months ago we were overwhelmed. Witnessing the emergence of his own vision and creative identity has been totally and absolutely delicious!
It's hard to describe the pleasure as a parent watching your child find their voice... It really is the deepest kind of joy and satisfaction. I acknowledge my bias, but I’m quite certain both my sons are totally brilliant.
