Falconhawk’s chanteuse and keyboard caresser is apologizing for the morning-after croakiness accompanying her words through a dodgy cell phone connection from her hometown of Calgary.

"Last night we sang karaoke until really late. My voice drops an octave every week of my life. Pretty soon I’ll be a tenor." Kara Keith then unleashes the throaty laugh that should have been included in the "introduction to humankind" kit NASA sent out with the Voyager spacecraft–the one designed to put the best possible face on our species for any potential intergalactic neighbours.

Truth be told

Keith herself would be a wonderful diplomat for earthlings not simply for the disarmingly artless charm of her chuckle, but because she is such a complete representation of the spectrum of human emotion. She is fearless in the sense that she is so utterly naked in everything she does–writing, performing... talking–that she is never less than fully committed to the truth. And if she’s contradictory and mercurial at times, well, that just encompasses another truth, which is that truth changes from moment to moment.

Like their mistress, Keith’s songs are flypaper for adjectives. The eight gloriously cascading synth-pop tunes that make up Falconhawk’s second outing, Here’s Your Ghost, are seductive, moody, intricate, lovely, wistful, hopeful, and deeply, oddly moving. The album is a compelling and cohesive portrait of our heroine’s aspirations and failings, laced with self-deprecating humour and pervasive, undifferentiated longing.

Those who say the effort is a marked departure from Falconhawk’s debut–the nervous breakdown-wrapped-in-a-dance party Hotmouth–have missed the point. In Keith’s world, lust is no less worthy than love, desire is no less worthy than need, fantasy is no less worthy than experience. If she feels it–if we feel it–it’s automatically worthy of examination and celebration.

"The best thing you can do is take someone on a journey with you," Keith notes. "Not to sound lame, but everyone has a job in life, and as artists–for me–it’s like, ‘Let’s go here for a second.’ Not to sound pretentious, but that’s what I try to do."

Boys on the side

Her traveling companions, bassist Steve Elaschuk and drummer Dave Alcock, are not simply along for the ride, despite the Blondie Syndrome afflicting the band.

"Yeah, Falconhawk is identified largely with me," Keith admits. "It’s easy, right? I’m an angry wild woman. I’m outspoken and in Calgary there hasn’t seemed to be a real female voice there since I was 20. It’s less like that when we travel. It’s okay; the band doesn’t give a shit. Dave is okay with being ‘the other guy.’ It takes the focus off him, and he’s comfortable out of that."

Alcock, a talented producer and studio owner, has been key in aurally shaping Falconhawk. "It’s give and take for sure," Keith says of songwriting. "Dave is the listener and refiner. He’s got my back. I don’t like revisiting things; I don’t have that patience."

She says of Ghost, "Dave took the role of producing and treated it like an instrumentalist, thinking and developing the sound. For two months we lived at the studio working and working on the songs."

Live, however, Falconhawk is definitely a creature of Keith’s impulsiveness. "We never write a set list; just get on stage and figure it out," she says. But, the shows are led by sensitivity to context rather than just whimsy.

"It’s very mindful and catered to the venue and the mood of the night. There’s a lot of performance art in it, though it’s not ‘performance art’ in a conscious or overt way. Without losing integrity and being a servant to the venue, I like to use it as inspiration. It’s the little performer child in me–outfits, set designs, pillow fights..."

Pillow fights?

"We had a Miami Vice-slumber party thing in Calgary for the CD release, with the coolest set and a celebrity kissing booth with Andy from FUBAR and the Dudes’ Dude Bomb."

That set will not travel to Edmonton, though Keith vows, "There will be kissing! I’m bossy that way. There are always shenanigans at a Falconhawk show."