Montreal singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Leif Vollebekk is about unveil his new album, Twin Solitude, via Secret City Records. The third track off the album, the beautifully raw and minimalist ‘Elegy’ has gone viral, thanks to the striking video that accompanies the track. Directed by Kaveh Nabatian, the ‘Elegy’ video was filmed in a Florida beach town that Leif frequented as a child. During filming, he danced in the dunes through sunset, followed by Nabatian with a camera strapped to him and a speaker attached so they could hear the song. The pair danced up and down the dunes all day, until it got dark and they were kicked off the beach.

There’s an airy quietness and glacial beauty to much of Twin Solitude, an album that was apparently written very quickly, almost stream-of consciousness-like in the lyric department. And because of that there is passionate honesty throughout, a work of unpasteurised elegance, written pretty much in-the-moment and recorded live, on to tape.

Vollebekk released his second album, the breakthrough North Americana in 2013, and since then has performed at the Newport Folk Festival and shared stages with Beth Orton, Sinéad O'Connor, Patrick Watson, William Fitzsimmons and Sam Amidon. He’ll be touring the UK very shortly, in support of Colorado folk artist Gregory Alan Isakov so we caught up with him to talk about his musical background.

I understand you recorded Twin Solitude live and on tape. Can you tell me about that, and why?
There’s a thousand reasons to record live to tape. The tape sounds good, and lightly compresses the drums and piano. It just makes everything gel together immediately. Playing live means everyone is listening to each other in the moment. For me, that beats everyone recording one at-a-time trying to perfect their own part. Also, when you’re all in the room together, your parts are naturally balanced. When you step back in the control room, you can immediately hear the song as a whole. You’re not waiting to assemble the pieces later on to see what you have. You know right there and then if you have it.

And can you tell me about some of the musicians who are on the album?
I first would have to mention David Smith, the engineer at Breakglass in Montreal, for he got every instrument sounding the way I heard them in my mind. In essence, he’s just a musician playing the Neve. On the drums, I had Philippe Melanson play in his beautiful, telepathic way, and Olivier Fairfield play in his inimitable, telluric style. And I had Shahzad Ismaily come up from New York after I saw him hold an entire show together with one note on his P-Bass. When I needed strings, I went down to New York to record Chargaux, a string duo I had recently fallen in love with when I heard them on Kendrick Lamar’s ‘Bitch Don’t Kill My Vibe’. Lastly, I took the whole thing to Nevada City, California to mix with Oz Fritz and I learned more from him than I had from anyone in a long time. I still can’t believe that I got such talented people to work with me. I just can’t thank them enough.

Twin Solitude – can you tell me about the name of the album, and its inspiration?
When I hear someone say “I” in a song, I see myself. When I hear them say “you," I’m standing in their shoes and I’m seeing someone else. When a song has deep roots, it connects with your own, and it’s hard to tell where you end and the song begins. It's two things, but it's also one thing.

‘Vancouver Time’ – Can you tell me about this song, and about Vancouver? It’s of particular interest as I have connections with that place.
I always try to imagine what it must have felt like for those first explorers heading westward and finding that infinite ocean. There’s something that ties together so many people of the Pacific Northwest and I can never put my finger on it. There’s something of that feeling in this song, I think.

But you’re actually based in Montreal. Can you tell me about the life there, the music scene?
Montreal is a relatively small place with an unusually high percentage of musicians. With so many of us being transplants (I’m originally from Ottawa), I get the thinking that Montreal is really just some sort of magnet that draws you in and you really don’t have much to say about it.

‘East of Eden’ is based on ‘I Dream A Highway’ (a song by Gillian Welch, from her Time (The Revelator) album). Can you elaborate on that? I can’t hear much of a similarity!
I listened to that song almost every day for months on end. Then one day – without realizing it – I started singing new verses. It kinda took on a life of its own after that.

You say you don’t know what some of your songs mean. Do you prefer to let them speak for themselves?
I think that's a good way of putting it. Tarkovsky once said, "An image – as opposed to a symbol – is indefinite in meaning…It falls apart at any attempt of touching it." I feel that way too. I think if a song tells you something, then that’s what it means. The song doesn’t symbolize something, the song is itself the thing.

Can you tell me about the music you grew up with, what you really like to listen to?
Growing up, I never listened to FM radio, just the oldies station on AM. That, and my parent’s vinyls and cassettes. Which meant a lot of Beatles and Dire Straits. These days I still listen to older things, Van Morrison, Prince, Ray Charles.

How did you hook up with Gregory Alan Isakov?
We met when we were on the same bill at the Newport Folk Festival. We chatted a bit as I came off-stage and they were about to go on. And there was just a nice simpatico.

What will your set up be for the UK tour?
I’m not entirely sure yet. I’ve been playing a lot more Wurlitzer and electric guitar these days – things a bit more electric in general.
Jeff Hemmings