DORVAL GROWS ON UNAPOLOGETIC CROWNED

By Yasmine Shemesh

When Ché Aimee Dorval heard “Cowboys” by Portishead, it took her out of her body. It was sometime in her early 20s and a DJ she was dating played it for her. She loved trip-hop already—the experimental hip-hop and electronic fusion that emerged from the ’90s Bristol underground—and bands like Zero 7 and Massive Attack had been on constant rotation.

“It always really struck me,” Dorval tells the Straight, on the phone from her home in Vancouver. “There’s so much emotion and it’s so dark, which I gravitate to.”

But that Portishead moment opened up new pathways for the musician, running alongside other influences like Alanis Morissette and Cat Power: artists whose bold, honest, and reflective songwriting shaped her own. You can hear it through

Dorval’s music, where the evocative atmospherics on her last record, 2017’s Between the Walls and the Window, offered a backdrop to contemplative lyrics brought to life by her big, rich, soulful voice. The influence is at its most fully realized on her new album, The Crowned. Songs like “Sensibilities” and “Try” are lush, mysterious, and enveloping, with intentional layers of instrumentals that move like pop melodies.

“I’ve always wanted to create music like this,” Dorval says. “I just never knew how before. I played the guitar my whole life— and I play the piano a little bit—but I wasn’t confident enough to really make that my instrument and go deeply into it. That really restricted the musical landscape and the genres I was able to touch upon.

“Over the years,” she continues, “I’ve really gotten into producing and started to explore soundscapes and just everything—controllers and VSTs [Virtual Studio Technologies]—and that basically gives you a paint brush. You don’t have to necessarily rely on your skill of, like, ‘Are my fingers fast enough?’ And I have weak hands. I was always held back by that. But with all of these other things, you can just create whatever is in your mind, electronically.”

On The Crowned, Dorval worked with iconic engineer Bob Rock, who co-produced half of the album. When the pandemic hit, it gave Dorval more time to reach even further into herself, and she finished producing it on her own.

“I think it was just a mixture of confidence and exploration,” she notes. “And then just working with the right people who let you be who you are, and vice-versa.”

Having the safety to be true to herself goes back to Dorval’s upbringing. She grew up in Vancouver with her mother and a “huge, crazy, loving” family.

“Even though we were struggling, everything felt really magical and wonderful,” Dorval says.

Her uncle, who was an actor and parttime drag queen, lived next door and “was just the most fun.” Her aunt, an artist and musician, would take Dorval camping.

“My life was filled with these gorgeous humans, all of whom had their different crazy piece of life and perspective to give to me,” she recalls. “And it was just a really beautiful childhood. And my mother was a rock, and so strong. And I think it definitely helped shape who I am today, but it also got me kind of ready for the craziness of the music industry. I think you have to be crazy, but then you also have to have some sort of inner strength to withstand it. And I definitely owe it to them.”

Music offers Dorval space to process. Along with themes of love and loss, there are many songs on The Crowned, she notes, that speak to a sense of frustration, because that’s how she works through things. Much of her inner turmoil related to politics surrounding women’s bodies and rights.

Dorval wrote the title track with Rock during the #MeToo movement. On the opening line, with just a chorus backing her, the singer belts: “Gone from the ground/Here we are with the crowned.” It’s about equality.

“It was really important for me to make the song about not retribution, but just plain across equality,” she says. “‘Can we stand next to you? Can we all just stand together?’”

Another standout, “Blood Red Son,” was written when Roe v. Wade was overturned and reproductive rights in the States were hanging precariously by a thread. Dorval’s voice soars over the cinematic soundscape, which twists hauntingly as her tone rises higher and higher. “Bet the other goes on placidly,” she sings. “Undisturbed by those who would object.”

With Between the Walls and the Window, Dorval reached an assuredness in both herself and her artistry. On The Crowned, she is unapologetic.

“I’m going to go whatever direction musically I want to go because I like to explore and I love music,” she says. “I’m going to say whatever I feel like I need to say, because what’s the point of doing anything other than that? I think I grew up with this record—as a musician and as a human.” GS