After a prolonged bout of living abroad, Marta Pacek has only been back in Australia a little over six months, yet is already in the midst of an epic tour across the country. She is joined by Canadian troubadours The Jessica Stuart Few, and as the two acts share the stage from State to Territory, the practicalities of life on the road – travel and accommodation, making sure tensions don’t boil down to someone murdering someone else in their sleep – tends to leave little time for reflection and new material. Not that the ebullient Pacek seems to mind – she’s having far too much fun to stop and think about writing.
“When you’re on tour, you’re in a kind of bang-bang-bang headspace,” Pacek explains. For someone who has only just woken up, she sounds remarkably chipper; one of those rare morning musos. “Especially when you have gigs back to back, you just have to put your head down and do it. You’re just tearing off to the next stage, making sure you’re going to get to your hotel on time to check in. Jessica booked the tour, and I’m tour managing. So the division of labour is good. I’ve definitely experienced where it’s one-sided, and that really isn’t great. You’re essentially going into a partnership with somebody when you share a tour. You’re splitting the costs; you’re splitting the energy, the work. You have to be careful who you choose to tour with, but I’ve been lucky because Jess is so much fun. So to be honest, I haven’t had time to dwell on how each gig has been!”
Pacek is chiefly touring on the heels of Voodoo Dolls And False Alarms, a beautiful, dark collection that illustrates the alt-folk Americana styling with which she is now synonymous. The album follows 2012’s Rebel Baby, and if both albums seem rife with ghosts, it is with good reason; it is most often through heartbreak and sadness that Pacek finds the fortitude to write.
“The last two albums were very dark. I was in a foreign country, and I was dating but it wasn’t really going well. I kept having these awful experiences, and I’m not one of those people who can heal easily. I do things the old-fashioned way; I need to lick my wounds. I can’t just slap on a Band-Aid and move into the next relationship. I need to retreat and reflect. That sounds like I’ve met 10,000 men and they’ve all done me wrong, but it was only a couple. They really broke me, though.”
Though Pacek speaks openly about hardship and turmoil, her conversation is very happy, almost light; the impression one receives is of an artist who has found true catharsis in channelling the lows of life into something finer.
“I think the dark or scary things just affect you more. I find it difficult to write when I’m happy. When you’re really happy and things are going well, when you’re not disturbed, it’s harder to want to share. There’s something about bad news, something dramatic that I feel more inclined to write about. When life is good I’m enjoying it too much to really reflect on it. Whereas with the bad stuff, I need to sit back and process it to access those feelings and write it out. Or I’ll listen to other miserable artists,” she laughs brightly. “Like Ray LaMontagne, Neil Young. They validate your own feelings of sadness. It’s nice to listen to other people being melancholy. It gives you permission to go there.”
Voodoo Dolls And False Alarms is out nowindependently, and Marta Pacek appears with The Jessica Stuart Fewat The Royal Exchange, Newcastle onThursday April 2, and Camelot Lounge’sDjango Bar, onSaturday April 4.
