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Part One
Chantal Kreviazuk was born May 18, 1973; the third child and only daughter of Jon and Carole Kreviazuk, owners of the Winnipeg, Manitoba-based Krevco. Pools & Spas.
Raised in Charleswood, a wealthy suburb of Winnipeg, Chantal admits to being "the bratty little sister" to her older brothers Michael, now 35, and Trevor, 32. As a toddler, she watched with interest as they resentfully endured the piano lessons their mother forced on them. When Chantal pleaded to be allowed to do the same, she was met with resistance. "You're too young," her mother would insist.
Be that as it may, the would-be prodigy did not give up so easily. "From time to time I would sneak over to the piano and I would play on my own. My mom started seeing me do this and was quite flabbergasted to see her three-year-old putting melodies together, so she kind of encouraged me from then on."
For Chantal, of Ukrainian descent on both sides, her musical talents sprung not so much from God-given genius as a rich family history. She has romantic memories of family gatherings with her grandparents, Saba and Gigi. "My grandmother and grandfather were very poor people," she says. "My grandfather worked at a mill and in the forest chopping trees, and a lot of their social scene was also amongst the very poor, and they would have these dance hall days, and my grandmother and grandfather would play, respectively, the harmonica and the fiddle, and that was the form of entertainment. So at any given time when I was really young, if I went over to my grandparent's house, they would just start playing together."
Those memories had a big influence. "When they were young and dating during the Depression, they would play halls in Selkirk, Manitoba. People would bring booze - whatever they had - and dance. Between that and going to my father's house, where there were 12 brothers and sisters and Saba and Gigi in a four-room house with an old piano where we would play the piano and sing hymns - those are such beautiful memories. It had a huge impact on my life."
At first, Chantal's passion for piano stemmed more from a competitive sibling rivalry than anything else. "I think I saw it as an avenue of getting my mom and dad's approval and attention," she says. "You know, I would say 'Oh, I won't complain, I won't cry, I'll practice, and I'll be good,' just to try and show that I was the better one, you know how the youngest is."
Soon, she was training in classical piano and voice at the Royal Conservatory of Music, until "it was like eating and breathing." Throughout her youth, she competed in various festivals and competitions, winning numerous awards. "I was more serious about competing for vocals than piano. The piano competitions were ridiculous; 300 kids in each class. That's too much pressure for kids, and I didn't enjoy it. But vocal classes were fun. There'd be the same 15 girls every year, and I looked forward to that."
By fifteen, Chantal - who'd by then added songwriting to her list of talents - had begun composing her own material, her "real songs," which she kept to herself. They were a much-needed escape from the pressures of adolescence, which weighed heavily. At Balmoral Hall, an all-girls school she attended through tenth grade, "I was such a loser. There were these girls in my class who took gymnastics and I thought they were so cool, so I said, 'Mommy, you have to let me take gymnastics lessons.' I think I went once and balled and never went again." Unpopular and self-conscious, Chantal recalls her adolescence as "horrible. Just horrible. I had a reputation."
In a fit of rebellion, Chantal quit the Conservatory. Once harboring ambitions of becoming a classical concert pianist, she formed a garage band with four other boys who "ate me for breakfast."
Although she continued to play commercially, music was no longer the panacea it had been. Occasionally performing at local lounges or weddings, Chantal also wrote and performed advertisement spots for the radio - including one for the family business - but later admitted, "If I needed money, I would think, 'Oh, I better go write some jingles for the radio' or 'I better go get a job in a lounge for a month.'" Managed since 14 by Winnipeg singer-songwriter Danny Schur (thanks to some light string-pulling on her father's part), "I didn't see music a direction. I'd write jingles and play lounges, but that was about money."
Part Two
Chantal Kreviazuk was scheduled to begin her junior year at the University of Manitoba in September 1994, but she never made it. That summer, she'd been traveling through Europe with her then-boyfriend. it was an immature relationship careening toward an end - something she realized just seven days into the trip (Chatelaine Magazine). When her boyfriend suggested renting mopeds in Florence, as a way to better enjoy the countryside, she declined but eventually gave in. While driving through the city that night, Chantal accidentally directed her moped the wrong way down a one-way street and soon realized that a motorcycle, who did not have its headlight on, was headed straight toward her. It was too late. The impact threw her from her bike, knocking her unconscious and inflicting massive injuries when she landed. "I landed on my head," she explains. "My femur broke and popped out of my leg. I had contusions all over my head." An ambulance arrived on the scene not long after, and a few moments into the ride, Chantal gained consciousness. Panic-stricken, she asked the aide if she was going to die. "He was a gorgeous Italian god and he just touched me gently and said, 'Sssssh, no.'" She spent the next three weeks in a foreign hospital, undergoing massive reconstructive surgery on her femur and her face. "I was singing there (in the hospital) with my jaw clenched shut. I was saying to the nurses, 'I'm a singer.' They went, 'Uh-huh.' And I'd be like, 'No, really. What songs do you know?' And they'd say, 'Okay, Whitney Houston.' So I'd go (singing through teeth): 'The greatest love of all ...'"
Once home in Winnipeg, she was "confined to a bed, literally unable to move." At twenty-one, she was unable to perform some of the most menial tasks of everyday living. Getting into the bathtub was an ordeal. She had to pry her mouth open with a popsicle stick in order to eat; "I had six plates and twenty screws in my face," she says (although she has also said it was four plates and sixteen screws), "You could see all the screws."
The recovery process was a slow one: "I really couldn't do anything during that period," she says. "I couldn't work, I couldn't continue my schooling. I was really ill. My jaw had to be slowly rebuilt, like six or eight surgeries ... The recuperation was a long process. It really slowed me down." There were also complications: "In retrospect, it's now obvious that I was going through a period of denial about the injury. I had a huge gouge in my jaw that I was covering with my hair, and it was getting more and more infected, oozing constantly ..." she remembers. "Then my jaw locked, because the infection got into the bone, so I had to have more emergency surgery." All in all, she says, "I was in and out of the hospital for a year having surgeries on my jaw and femur."
A majority of the recovery period was spent in bed - usually up to twenty-three hours a day. That left a lot of time to think. "I was very insecure before my accident. I had a lot of childhood and adolescent insecurities that had built up. And when my accident happened, I had to face things head on."
Besides the physical scars, the experience left Chantal with a new perspective. "It was life-altering ... but not in a conscious way," she says. "During the time I was recovering, I realized I needed to change my life and get my priorities in order." Music resurfaced with a new-found importance. "Up until then, I didn't take my music in a very serious way ... If I needed money, I'd write a jingle or play a few gigs. But after the accident, the music really moved front and center. I saw it for the gift it is." In short, "I realized music was something I could give rather than something I could use."
It was a major milestone in her life. "Because of my insecurities, I (had been) very scared to struggle for my craft. After my accident, I couldn't lean on school or a job or the family business, because I was ill, but I could sit at the piano and write my songs."
"I couldn't walk, I couldn't talk for a long time, and I couldn't go back to the things I found my identity in, like school or a part-time job. Music just emerged full-force. I could make my way to the piano and write music with both eyes closed."
"The accident made my focus on the only thing I could do, which was write music."
Now, she sees the crash as a blessing - something that forced her to find her true direction, and she often credits it with her decision to pursue music. "You'd never wake up one day and go, 'Okay, the thing I really need right now is to have my body broken. Please God do that to me,'" she says. "But I wouldn't trade it for the world. If someone told me they could remove my scars today, I'd say, 'Bite me, you're not touching them.' I'm very proud of them and of the pain I went through and the things that came of it and I would never want any of that taken away." She now sports a tattoo of a daisy on her upper left arm to cover up a small scar.
Part Three
The accident was just the "kick in the ass" that was needed.
"I was sort of hiding behind music. I was frightened I'd fail at it so I did safe stuff, like, I would sing at weddings or do parties or play in lounges. That was all very safe, I wasn't taking any risks, putting my ass on the line very much. I decided just to take more risks after my accident." She says, "It motivated me. I figured I should have died ... and anything after that was just gravy. I figured I should take that risk."
And she did.
With renewed ambition, she re-teamed with Danny Schur and Chris Burke-Gaffney to produce a tape of demo songs that was then sent out to all of Canada's major labels. "I didn't have anything else to do. I was sick, I was in and out of the hospital, so recording demos just made sense," she explains.
When the tape arrived on the desk of Sony Music Canada's head talent scout Mike Roth, it was one of hundreds of tapes sent every week. But then he listed to it. Roth immediately called Sony Music President Rick Camilleri into his office, insisting, "You've got to hear this, it's the greatest song I've ever heard."
"This voice comes blistering out and the song was 'Surrounded,'" remembers Camilleri. "Our jaws dropped."
"We flew to Winnipeg the very next day because we had to see this girl."
Jon and Carole Kreviazuk were vacationing in Hawaii when they got the call.
"She said, 'Hi mom and dad! Sony wants to hear my (tape), the president is coming to town to see me, and it's 41 below outside!" her father recalls. "I said, 'I'll tell you what to do - get on a plane and come to Hawaii.' She came to Hawaii, where we were supposed to stay for two more weeks, but I had to go back home with her after a week because she was too excited to stay there."
As the story goes, Chantal met them at the airport, "wearing jeans and a t-shirt," Roth recalls, despite the February temperatures.
"There was not a shy bone in her body," Camilleri says. "She drove us to the studio, talking up a storm the whole way."
Once there, Chantal played and sang for ninety minutes, thoroughly impressing both Roth and Camilleri, who says "it was like watching a young Billy Joel meets Tori Amos ... she did it all and she had the personality to boot." The label faxed a contract to Winnipeg, and "we gave it to her that day," he says. They walked away from the encounter "saying she's a star and an entertainer."
The contract itself garnered its' share of press attention - at a reported $1 million for two albums over five years, it was one of the largest initial contracts in the label's history. Let alone the fact that its recipient was a virtual unknown. "This is a dream. It's such an incredible opportunity," she said at the time. "It's an overwhelming, wonderful deal they've given me."
Part Four
Almost from the moment Chantal Kreviazuk signed a contract with Sony, her life changed. She compared the experience to that of her friend, who was pregnant at the time. "It's weird, intense, exhilarating, depressing," her friend said. Chantal thought "hey, that's exactly what I'm going through!" "This is everything like being pregnant, except that you're carrying the weight on your shoulders," she said.
She was immediately flown to Los Angeles to begin recording her debut album. "I was signed and then they said 'just go into the studio and record an album.'"
The contract came loaded with both good and bad - as Chantal observed, "You're thrown into a studio with 10 men; you're the youngest person there; you're female; and you have to get out of these people what you need. I was 22. That was really difficult."
As fanciful a story as Chantal's (a young unknown is inspired by a near-death experience to chase her dream and winds up with a major label record contract in a matter of weeks), she points out: "Even in the dreamiest situation, there's always something to ground it. It's all bullshit, there's no fantasy stories in this world, really. When it comes to something that has an element of business to it there will be something to ground it."
She did, however, get free reign over the choice of producer - or, as it turned out, producers. "What happened was, I got a phone call from my record label after I got a record deal. 'You know, Chantal, we've got a lot of confidence in these songs. We're willing to send them off to producers of your choice. Is there a certain record that you really love the production work on?' and so on. And I was like, 'Wow, what a great question for someone to call you and ask you.' So, I loved the 10,000 Maniacs and Natalie Merchant's work, and of course Peter Asher worked on that project. And I liked Matt Wallace, who worked with Sheryl Crow, and I got to hear a track he worked with her on. It was really good, and I liked the deliverance. I also sent the music off to other producers - some showed interest, others didn't. And at the end of it all, I was like, 'Gee ... who do I want to work with? Peter or Matt?' And we found a way that we could all work together in harmony. And we did it."
Well ... mostly.
"There was only one day when there was any tension between the two, and it was over before I knew it," she related to Billboard. "I noticed Peter very quickly left the control room, and I asked Matt where he went. He said he went to make a call, but I noticed that none of the lights on the phone were on, and Matt sputtered, 'He went to take a walk.' But it went really great."
The result was Under These Rocks & Stones, a thirteen-track powerhouse of passionate, piano-based tunes inspired by everything from insecurity (as on "God Made Me") to over-eager fans ("Believer") to the suicide of Chantal's first boyfriend and first love, Sam. The latter tune, "Surrounded," took the airwaves - and listeners - by storm. With all the power of an emotional Mack truck, Chantal sings, "I was there / when they dropped the bomb / you know I remember the bomb / and I still fear the bomb / you know I hate the bomb / sometimes I still get the call," as the chorus swells to "it's all around me / it's all around me / you surround me like a circle" intertwined with wails of "don't lose sight of me now." "He drove a Mustang convertible," she remembered. "And I would go out and see one of those cars and think he was driving. I would pick up the phone to call someone and automatically dial his number. One day I was surrounding myself with this, and it was driving me a little nuts. I went to take a shower and could hear this little piano thing in my head. All the lyrics were there in two seconds. I sang them to myself for 20 minutes, until the water grew cold, then wrapped myself in a towel and went to the piano, sopping wet, and wrote the song. It was like pushed play, and it came out."
Almost a year after it's Canadian release, in 1997 the album was re-released in North America as a different version. Besides featuring a new cover, the track listing was slightly rearranged (the song "Imaginary Friend," originally track 12, was moved to track 6, bumping subsequent tracks up one), and the song "Actions Without Love" was removed. Also, where Chantal quoted Jesus Christ in the credits at the end of the first version ("let he who has no sin cast the first stone"), the biblical blurb didn't appear in the second release. There was another, smaller change as well: she thanked someone named Raine at the end, but wouldn't say who it was.
Although it took its time to gain momentum, the album undoubtedly did, eventually going platinum and propelling its creator into a totally new and unknown world: that of the rich and famous.
"I've gone into Shopper's Drug Mart to get zit cream, with no makeup and a mound of pimples on my face, and someone's recognized me. And they're going, 'Oh, "God Made Me." That's so cool!' And I'm like, 'Argh, I hate me.' But I have to practice what I preach. I'm usually happy when people do that. I'm gracious."
After promoting the album with a grueling 18-month touring schedule (which included stints with Savage Garden and Amanda Marshall - both of whom she is now on a less-than-friendly basis with), Chantal lent her talent to a handful of dates on the 1998 Lilith Fair tour. Although she at first harbored some reservations about it - "I kind of agreed to do the dates and it was too late to think. I agreed to do it without thinking, 'Of course I'll do Lilith Fair.' When I was getting closer to when I was going to play I was like, 'Argh, do I really want to do this?' I was disgusted because it's so girl, it's so having to share the spotlight, all the ego things kick into your mind, all that natural human stuff." She admitted, "Before playing it, I was a little bit ignorant about it and felt that it would be very estrogen-overwhelming." When a MuchMusic interviewer asked her if she was really that female-oriented, Chantal joked she was "actually more man-oriented." Yet, the tour proved to be beneficial. "I had a great time and, quite frankly, it was way better than I had ever hoped or dreamed," she said. It also gave her a new medium to promote her smash-hit remake of John Denver's "Leaving On A Jet Plane," which she covered for the Armageddon Soundtrack in early 1998. Chantal made a habit of performing the tune as a finale, inviting all the other "Lilith gals" to join her, as well as members of the audience.
Although it was often lonely, and presented a challenge where friends and family were concerned, Chantal loved touring. "It gives people a chance to help place the person and see who I really am." But after promoting the album for almost two years she was eager to get back into the studio.
"My answering machine is full of songs I want to develop," she said at the time. However, thus far, the only song she had finished (and was satisfied with) was the long-distance-love ballad "Until We Die."
"Two years of playing live and I hadn't really had anything yet that I was extremely excited about for the second record. It's pretty wonderful, you know, there's another song for my next album," she said of the song.
Two years after the release of Under These Rocks & Stones, it was time for Chantal to prove that she was no 'one hit wonder.' Excited about her opportunity to record a second record, she said, "I want it to be even deeper. If this is my one outlet to be really pure and creative - if this is my opportunity to be creative - I don't want to blow it."
She never thought she almost might.
Part Five
Maybe the writer's block that inflicted Chantal during the winter of 1998-99 was her body's way of forcing her to take a much-needed break. As she told a reporter, she was "starting to itch creatively," but it seemed to be one she couldn't scratch. After such a grueling schedule - one that had not only catapulted her to super-star status in Canada but kept her a constant on the Canadian music scene as well - it had also meant two years of non-stop work, without any respite.
Whatever the cause, it wasn't a fun lesson to learn. Chantal admits to getting a bit anxious when she couldn't come up with any "heartfelt" songs, not realizing at the time that "you have to turn it all off and if you're truly a writer, it will come out." She admits, "there was a point where I thought, 'Am I a writer? I don't remember.' It was horrible, then it just happened."
The inspiration came in the form of a twelve-year-old girl named Mina Kim, who was given six months to live after being diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. Chantal was given the chance to spend time with the Kim family during what had to be some of the most emotionally-charged months in their lives. "There were so many incredibly moving things going on, and one of the things I observed was that her parents really wanted to take her photograph constantly. But she was a 12-year-old, so she'd be like, 'My hair's not good,' or 'I don't have my cool pants on right now,' or 'I feel swollen [from the medication].' So there was this incredible conflict going on and it's so bizarre to think of her worried about her hair or the zit on her face while her parents just wanted to take enough pictures of her within the small amount of time to last a lifetime."
"Spending time with her over the last six months really changed my life. She was so strong. She knew that she was better than everybody and that's why God wanted her to be going to heaven earlier. She was such an inspiration."
The title of Chantal's second album, Colour Moving & Still, is taken from a lyric in the song "M," dedicated to Mina: "So I think we're gonna have to record her / sometimes against her will / we're gonna keep her alive with black and whites / colour moving and still."
"It led me to a lot of discussions about taking things for granted, and how we're so out of touch, and how we don't realize how precious every moment is," she mused. "I really feel that she titled my album."
Unfortunately, Mina passed away in June of 1999 - before she was able to hear the song she inspired. Yet her legacy lives on through the people she touched and the song she inspired.
"I can take ("M") to the stage every night and be with her."
Part Six
Of all the serious issues and circumstances that inspire most of Chantal Kreviazuk's music - death and tragedy being paramount among them - there is love.
In the song "Until We Die," she sings, "in heaven we won't have to call / I'll be with you spring summer and fall / but for now soon you'll be here and heal in my arms / as the night goes by / that's what we do / can we do it until we die." "That song is very personal and details how I feel. It was quite an exercise in emotion. It just poured out," she says.
"Oh my god, I was just bawling at my piano, by myself, in my apartment. I was a mess. I had to stop. I was trying to write out the lyrics and I couldn't see. It was all happening so fast. But at the end of the day, I have this gem of a song that I love and I'm so happy with."
The song was written for Chantal's boyfriend of three years, Raine Maida, famous in his own right as the lead singer and songwriter for the Canadian super-band Our Lady Peace. Together they had survived the perils of long-distance love (which "Until We Die" directly refers to), their respective careers (which were both blossoming in major ways) and, not least of all, the press.
As her profile rose, questions about her personal life became more frequent and insistent. Unwilling to sacrifice her privacy, Chantal answered questions about Raine with everything from "I'm happy in my personal life, I'll leave it at that" to "well, there are a lot of people named Raine" until she finally admitted in late November 1999 that she wasn't only dating Raine Maida, she was going to marry him. "We are getting married. We are together and we're really happy and it's a very exciting time in our lives," she said.
Colour Moving & Still was laden with Maida's influence - from "Until We Die" to "Dear Life" and "Little Things," the latter two which he co-wrote with Chantal.
"The album wouldn't be what it is without Raine. Raine said to me: 'You can't blame anybody. This is your gig.' That is why, a lot of times, even when I wanted him to make a decision for me, he'd say no. He was also someone I could go to and say: 'What do you think of this?' And instead of him going, 'It's great,' he would say, 'You need to do more with this.' He's extremely honest. I love showing him new things that I'm excited about. I respect him so much as a songwriter and so much as a person."
"Just getting that honesty from someone is really the best thing because it allows you to challenge yourself. If someone is continually blowing smoke up your butt and saying, 'Yeah, it's good,' then you don't have to change anything. While that might feel nice for your ego, you don't end up with the same quality of work." Despite that, "at the end of the day, it's my album. It would be pretty crappy if everyone was telling me what a great album it was and I knew in my heart that it wasn't my work. It's definitely my work and I'm pleased about that."
Chantal Kreviazuk has had many amazing and inspiring things and people come and go throughout her life - and she still has the majority of it left to live. 1996 was the year she was discovered, the year she inked a seriously remarkable deal with a major record label, and the year she released the album that launched a successful, and, most likely, long-running career. Since that time, she has learned much, and become "a little more refined as result of all my traveling" and "a little more schooled from all the people I've met from so many different places in the world." She will undoubtedly continue to learn and grow as a person and a musician - and will, hopefully, also continue to share her knowledge and emotions with her legions of fans through her music.
However, altogether, the year 1999 could easily rival 1996 as the best year in the last few of Chantal's life. For the first time in her life, she was challenged by a self-doubt that caused her to question her innate artistry. She cemented her fame in Canada with a Top Five album, a Top Ten single from that album, and found a hugely successful single in "Leaving On A Jet Plane." And, not least of all, she found the man that she vowed - on December 19, 1999 - to love until the day she dies.
Update - 2000
The year 2000 continued Chantal Kreviazuk's winning streak, both personally and professionally. In March, she went home with two of Canada's most coveted awards: a Juno for Best Pop/Adult Album and Best Female Artist, respectively. The morning after the awards ceremony, Chantal was featured on the front page of Canada's three major newspapers. But, despite being nominated five times at this year's MuchMusic Video Awards (where she also presented an award) and four times at the Prairie Music Awards (at which she performed), Chantal went home empty-handed.
However, after anouncing that she'd like to begin work on a third album after doing a little more with material from Colour Moving & Still, Chantal embarked on another mini-tour, treating fans to a handful of dates, including a hometown performance at Winnipeg's Forks, as part of the War Child Benefit to aide the innocent victims of war. At the show, Chantal premiered a new song she had written specifically for the occasion, called "G.I. Joe."
As the winter season rolls around, Chantal will celebrate her first anniversary with husband Raine Maida, and perhaps begin recording another album with Sony Music Canada (her contract with them has most likely been renewed since it's experation this year).
Whatever happens, the next year in her life will definitely to continue to improve on the last. And, if we are lucky, Chantal will continue to share her honest perspectives with us through her music.
They're just a little less annoying than the AdSquares!!