Paige Warner is a Canadian alt-pop/ soul inspired singer songwriter who has been carving out a place for herself in the indie Canadian music scene. Whether she’s making radio appearances, opening for Canadian icons, or touring with her band, her presence is palpable.
Although it’s clear that Paige has amassed a roster of talented individuals who are ready to support her in her journey, there’s an individuality that seeps through her songs as if she is saying “I can and will get there on my own”. To me, that is the kind of realization that her debut LP Bitter/Sweet celebrates.
The 8 track album, recorded and produced by up-and-coming Kitchener music studio Canadian Daydream, covers themes of love, loss and relationships as they pertain to trusting oneself, and learning to value your own needs above the needs of those whose intentions limit you.
As I listen to this heartfelt collection, I’m struck by something. Paige is very much a modern pop singer-songwriter, and has proven so in her stylistic approach to writing, but there’s something unmistakably timeless about her sound. Though the songs are fresh and are an appropriately fit for pop radio, they sound as if they’ve already stood the test of time.
Nods to early 2000s pop production, remind me of hits by artists like Natasha Bedingfield and Sarah McLachlin. Through huge piano tones, driven rhythm sections, and clean R&B/ rock guitars; her emotive, crisp vocal arrangements and lyrics skip between classic ballad and modern banger to bear it all, without it feeling like oversharing.
In her single Stockholm Syndrome, her melody work sticks in my head, bouncing around like an infectious ear worm who’s hosting a block party. The subtle build to the chorus, followed by her rhythmic phrasing make lines like “the devil’s made a great case for my love” stick with me throughout the entirety of my day, and I’m not mad about it.
In Damaged Goods, she challenges the toxicity that swells around modern dating, and the judgement that comes with it. She sings “I’m not damaged goods, used parts, too many have seen my heart” as she speaks out against shame culture, and overly captious partners. This song celebrates the art of showing up for oneself, denying others the opportunity of forming your opinion for you. Go check out the striking music video for this song, from director Chelsea Scherer.
With high energy and technical confidence, many of the songs on this record will prompt you to move your body, but beneath the surface of these sonic exteriors are harder truths. This is something that Paige has a knack for: hiding the medicine in a spoonful of sugar. A skill that comes from years of songwriting.
While there’s something to be said for delivering honesty in a brightly coloured package, it takes a different kind of confidence to call a sad song a sad song. In Sober and Empty House Warner wears her heart on her sleeve. The line “every room has a memory of me and you” is a seemingly simple sentiment, but its delivery hits me in a place that is almost too relatable. I’m returned to my early twenties and reminded of a time when I found my hometown too shrouded in memory to visit. Even though it hurts to hear someone lament a loss like this, there’s a sense of peace that emanates from the exploration of the subject, and as a listener I can feel the healing nature of the song.
For me, that’s the essence of this album. A visit to hard times, a dive into the past, and the correlation they have with one’s healing and self-realization. At times this album will make you groove, at other times it will move you silently, but above all else, it will remind you that you are capable. Plus, you’ll have a great time listening to it.
Go stream Bitter/Sweet wherever you listen to music.
From floating stages at the Blue Mountain Village to prestigious venues like the Meaford Hall, Warner devotes her time to touring locally throughout the Grey Bruce Simcoe area. If you are lucky you’ll catch one of her shows someday soon. Check paigewarner.ca for updates.
Written by Marshall Veroni
Photos by One Still World
