Kandle is one of those truly authentic artists who doesn’t fit into any box and is never afraid to be herself. She can be vulnerable, deep, and quirky all in the same conversation.
We ended up laughing a lot throughout this interview (Kandle’s giggle is infectious) as well as tackling some serious issues like mental health, endometriosis, and her recent move to Montreal with her partner and guitarist, Jeff Mitchell, and creating new music as a first-time producer. When we spoke via Zoom, she had just released her video for “Live A Lie,” which was filmed in Vancouver. Using the exact locations as the series, the song pays tribute to The X-Files. Kandle is not too cool to confess her love for the series or how she reacted upon meeting David Duchovny for the first time.
You looked like you had a lot of fun making that video.
A little too much fun. I enjoy music videos way too much
I don’t blame you. It’s an excuse to play dress-up, act out fantasies, and be creative.
Totally. It’s so fun, and the visual artist in me gets so into it and is so passionate about it. For me, it’s a whole next level for the song and a way to tell the story.
You studied film or photography?
Photography
Do you still do it?
Yeah, not as much, but I still love it. It’s my first love.
So, you just moved back to Montreal.
I did. It’s pretty exciting. It feels good. It feels like coming home.
Do you speak French?
Not really. I’ve tried so many times, and I’m going to continue to try, but I’m just terrible at it.
Are you going to be recording the new music here?
Yeah, we came here with about half the record done. I have a little home studio here, which is great. So, I’m working away on finishing the second half. It’s going pretty well. Being self-produced is a whole different way of creating. It’s very rewarding but much harder, to have perspective, meet your own deadlines, and force yourself to work on something when you’re not totally in the mood or not totally feeling it. Like in the studio with a producer, you usually work two weeks straight, or whatever your window of time is, so you kind of eat, sleep, and breathe the album. But when you’re on your own timeline, you’re kind of writing as you go and creating as you go, so there’s a lot of space in between. Every time I go back to a song I’m working on, I change something, and I think that I can do an even better performance or change an arrangement… I think it’s going to make it better, but in the end, it also makes me a little crazy.
Ok, but I love that you’re producing now because I’m speaking to so many more women in the industry who are producing, who are hands-on. They’re taking over, and it’s like your voice, your vision, you’re calling the shots. Basically, it’s your story, and nobody’s telling your story but you… That’s like a whole new level, and as I said, more and more women are doing that now… before it was… you know how it was, right? You’d be in the studio, and everyone’s telling you what you’re going to wear, how you’re going to sound, what you’re going to say… right?
Oh yeah. It’s still crazy to wrap my head around that change because that’s how most of my career up until now was, just like what you’re saying. A room full of men that I’m trying to fight for my ideas, for my vision, which I’m happy to do. Like, I will fight hard, but they’ll tell me, ‘Well, how many gold records do you have, sweetheart?’ and say I’m really stubborn and I thought you really wanted a career… and things like that, which make you feel terrible about yourself.
And even now, when I go into the studio on a big recording day… I’m expecting that, and it’s not there anymore, and it’s an amazing feeling. So when we were doing these songs, we had two amazing engineers and an assistant and two players, like all amazing guys, but I went in with the mentality that I had to be alpha and had to be super assertive… I even wore a suit, you know. I was like, ‘I’m the producer.’ And as soon as I got there, they’re all just like, ‘What do you need, boss?’ I didn’t have to put out any of that energy that isn’t really my natural way of being… you know, I got to be myself. They all listened to me and respected me. They’re all wonderful, and I’m like, ‘Wow, times have changed, this is awesome.
Well, that’s what I’ve always liked about your music and your style, is that you’re just Kandle. I don’t know any other Kandles. I can’t compare you to anyone else, which is a good thing. You’ve got a lot of flavours of different artists that I like and sound like. You stick to who you are.
In your song ‘Live a Lie,’ there’s a line that says, ‘I was taught to confuse the truth,’ and that kind of stuck with me… because I really thought about it a lot. I think for myself anyway, you get to a certain point in your life where you’re conditioned, or you just believe all these things, and then you just stop one day, and you’re like, ‘Wait a minute, who said so, or why are they saying this?’ Is that what happened to you?
Yeah, exactly… I felt that me and my peers were raised with this mentality… That you have to reach certain milestones by a certain age. You have to make a certain amount of money, and basically, you have to kill yourself to get ahead. And if you’re not working until you collapse, pushing your boundaries so hard, then you must not want your career, you must not want a home… This is a very unhealthy mentality. Maybe it worked in my parents’ day, but now, after living in Vancouver, I don’t know anyone that owns a home… or is comfy financially unless they have a trust fund or something crazy happened in tech. So, I was just looking around at my peers in Vancouver, and everybody just felt so bad about themselves. They felt worthless, and they felt like failures, and I’m like, ‘Well, this can’t be right if we all feel this way.’ And so many times, when I reflect on my own life and look at my own sad bank account and think that I must not want it bad enough, or I must not be working hard enough, and I blame myself. And I’ve done all these cleaning jobs and nannying, and all the stuff on the side just to barely make rent. And I’m like, ‘Something doesn’t feel right here. I don’t think this is how we should live.’ I was thinking, at the end of our lives, are we going to be thinking about all this, or are we going to be thinking about the people we love, the creative projects we did, the experiences we had, and our families? That’s what’s important… I feel like as a society, we kind of missed that. We just stepped away from it and got lost. And I’ve been trying… Through that song… Trying to find my way back.
What finally was the turning point, or what made you say, ‘Wait a minute, this is not right?’
Because a lot of people don’t see it. Like, I worked in a big corporation for 12 years, and I made good money, but I was miserable. And I was getting sick all the time, and I just said, ‘I can’t do this anymore.’
It wasn’t exactly specific; it was really just conversations with every single one of my friends who had either mental breakdowns or were on the verge of breakdowns. Or taking antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication just to go to work because it felt so wrong and exhausting to be there. And just seeing the collective grief in Vancouver and the stress and misery, I was like, ‘This is awful. This is so backwards…’ in the bridge section where I kind of turn it back on myself… I was reaching a point where I didn’t want to fight anymore, and the line, ‘I don’t want to save a world that doesn’t want to save me,’ felt like, ‘Why even try? There’s no place for me to succeed in this society the way it is right now, I don’t have a chance,’ so it makes you just want to give up, which is not a good feeling to live your life… everything feels impossible… You realize you’re never going to own a home… like you can barely get groceries… It’s a very discouraging feeling. And I realized that I was not alone in that feeling at all. It’s basically what inspired the song… Just so much sadness… and it seemed like such a stupid way to live.
Don’t say that you’re never going to own a home because you don’t know your future and you’re still young. Speaking of antidepressants, I saw you at Café Campus a couple of years ago, and I remember you were so funny. In between songs, you would just start talking.
Oh, no.
No, it was cool. I found it very endearing and genuine. At one point, you stopped because you needed to drink something. You mentioned that you were on antidepressants, which were causing dry mouth. Do you remember that?
It’s hard to be a truthful artist when everything is set up for you not to be. I do remember that. I asked the audience who else was on antidepressants. I’m not ashamed of it. I’ve had mental health issues – depression, panic disorder with PTSD. That’s why I can write songs about heavy subjects that connect with people going through similar experiences. I’m not ashamed, and it’s something that so many people are experiencing right now.
So, is the new music going to be all gloom and doom, or will there be any uplifting songs about rainbows and butterflies and unicorns?
I don’t think that’s ever going to happen. The new album is definitely darker. It’s funny to say, but it feels like a midlife crisis record to me. A lot of it is about grief and accepting reality. I’m in my 30s now, dealing with health issues like endometriosis and migraines. I was in denial about them in my 20s, thinking I could overcome them. I was very athletic, competing in gymnastics, and now I have days where I can’t walk. The album reflects on accepting that not everything you plan is possible, and finding a balance to still be happy and OK with your life when it’s not what you wanted.
There are definitely tough subjects on the album. I don’t know all your medical history, but I’m open to trying natural remedies if conventional medicine doesn’t work.
As they say in the X-Files, ‘The truth is out there.’
Yeah, for me, it’s about finding a healthy dose of hope. I tried acupuncture for endometriosis. It may not be the cure, but taking steps toward holistic healing made me feel mentally better, giving me a sense of hope.
I’m getting off track, aren’t I? We’re supposed to talk about the new music.
We’re being told to release a throwaway track with no radio potential. It’s a spooky, haunting, trip-hop-inspired song with a Portishead vibe. I’m proud of it. It’s breaking the rules of what singles are supposed to be. I just wish I cared more about the commercial side. I’d probably make more money.
That’s the price of being true to yourself and authentic. They’re calling it a throwaway track, but that just means it doesn’t fit neatly into a category. The best artists don’t fit neatly, so screw it.
The downside is missing opportunities to be on many playlists, which are today’s best discovery tools. If they can’t fit you in a box, they don’t know where to put you, and you might get lost in the sea of a billion songs.
Yeah, but your sound is different, so the right people will find you. And now that you’re the producer, you control it and get the money too.
Right! I swear there’s money in the industry.
First, you get the money, then you get the power, then you get the women. Is that from Scarface?
I think it’s also a rap song. Lauryn Hill?
First, you get the money, then you get the power, keep your eyes on the final hour. That’s Lauryn Hill, but she got it from Scarface.
Thank you for rapping for us today.
We both start giggling again, and the conversation takes a few more twists and turns until we decide to end it awkwardly.
Watch the full interview below:
Annette Aghazarian
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