Love for country music runs deep in Indigenous communities. Here's why

Zach Moostoos-Willier's late emotive drawl hearkens plump for to rural area euphony greats saint george Jones and Hank Williams Sr. Who played in the background of his childhood. 

Originally from Sucker Creek First Nation in Treaty 8, he grew up in Edmonton and would spend many a day with his grandparents listening to country music of the ‘50s, ‘60s and ‘70s.

“Country music was invented and created for real life working hard people that have been through a lot, so I think Indigenous people really connect to that way of life, that way of meaning,” Moostoos-Willier, an up-and-coming Cree-Métis country music artist, told Unreserved host Rosanna Deerchild.

Country music has deep roots in Indigenous communities — dating as far back as the fur trade when mandolins, fiddles, and eventually, guitars were brought from overseas. 

Its storied approach aligns with Indigenous oral storytelling. For decades, Indigenous artists have carved out their own space in the genre by including elements of their culture, like the Métis fiddle, or singing in Cree, as Ernest Monias, “Elvis of the North,” does. 

“It connects to history and it's been adopted and become its own genre within the community,” said David McLeod, a member of Minegoziibe Anishinabe Nation and CEO of Native Communications Inc. (NCI), a First Nations-owned radio network in Manitoba.

Moostoos-Willier is one of many Indigenous artists making a home in the country music scene.

He picked up the fiddle at the end of Grade 3 while attending awâsis waciston School, formerly known as Prince Charles School, in Edmonton. There, he joined the Prince Charles Fiddlers, a renowned children’s Métis fiddling group.

He began performing all over Edmonton and the surrounding area — but that was just the beginning. 

“I started to do my own thing after that,” he said. “I loved country music and it was just natural to add that to the fiddle tunes that I've been learning before.”

Moostoos-Willier says he gravitates to country music because it reminds him of where he comes from. 

“I was raised that way, always knowing and being rooted in who I was,” he said. “I want to write songs that I've lived or have seen happen in my day-to-day life, something that I understand fully.”

McLeod says how Indigenous artists sing and what they sing about often share stories about the Indigenous experience, which is “representative of that marginalization that happened in a lot of urban centres.”

Country music, he says, became more popular in the mid-1950s as people began to move from reserves to urban centres, followed by a spike in popularity in the '70s and '80s.

"It connects to the land. It connects to what was going on at the time as well," he said.

"It is an Indigenous voice at the end of the day, it is an Indigenous story. It is connecting to grassroots people. And that's been beautiful to see throughout the years in in the community." 

As a young girl, Desiree Dorion wrote out the lyrics to country songs she heard on the radio.

“I would step away from a particular song and read it like a story,” said Dorion, who grew up in Dauphin, Man., listening to 730 CKDM, the town’s only radio station.

“I think what intrigued me most is that I could understand the stories.”

Dorion is a mother, lawyer, and award-winning singer-songwriter from Opaskwayak Cree Nation.

She lived just down the road from Dauphin's Countryfest, Canada's longest-running country music festival.

Dorion has attended Dauphin’s Countryfest every year since she was about eight. She says being close to the festival gave her permission to dream of being a country music star herself, but she didn’t see an Indigenous artist take the stage until she was well into her teenage years. 

She wants to see more space in mainstream country music for Indigenous artists and is committed to bringing Indigenous producers and musicians onto her team to help with that visibility. 

She says she makes sure 67 per cent of her band is made up of Indigenous musicians, and on her latest album, Pieces of Me, 70 per cent of the collaborators were Indigenous.

“If I'm advocating in spaces for Indigenous representation, then I also need to put my money where my mouth is and be the change that I want to see.”

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