We explore the power and voice of the legendary Canadian singer-songwriter
BY JULINE ARNOLDT, IMAGE VIA ALBUM ARTWORK
If Michelle Guverich were to represent a lesbian bar, there would only be high-quality wine in an upscale atmosphere.
The gentle lights of the lamps swing slowly, reflecting in a golden mirror above the bar. When the temperature drops far below 20 degrees, it seems that only the love for a woman can keep your heart warm. This is Canada, on a Tuesday afternoon. Papers with lyrics written on them are scattered on a kitchen table. The dark red wax from the candles is melting and spilling all over the wooden table, creating a pattern or rhythm, much like a volcanic eruption, and continues to drip onto the old, creaky kitchen floor. Today, let me introduce you to our beautiful elegant lady, a flame for her beloved cigarette, Michelle Gurevich.
A singer-songwriter whose charm could make an entire world sing. Her vocals from soprano to bass would find their place in the choir. Just as Michelle found her place in the queer pop/softcore culture. Her lyrics speak poetry, full of wisdom and deep emotions. They are bold, nostalgic, and show no signs of holding back, provoking reactions in a playful yet distinct manner. The contrast is woven by her voice, as though she had crafted the world and painted the sky with every note, her singing, as if dressed in attire too luxurious, now mourns to the world about her countless romances with various women. The innocence of a tragedy, the melancholy of old summer days in Russia, as if folding oneself like an origami, underlines her emotional melodies. Life can be painful, but she flirts with this pain and stands up with self-confidence as if she has her own orchestra on her back.
Before enchanting the realm of women with her music and authenticity, and turning the bars into a rather reddish light, she worked for eight years in the film industry in post-production. She released her first album Party Girl in 2007. Her style is reminiscent of a bygone era, blending elements of vintage elegance with modern flair. Distorted glamour and retro templates are here and the remaining smoke of a late-night fireworks display. This is how I feel about Michelle Gurevich in her music videos.
Born and raised in Toronto, Michelle grew up as the daughter of a Kirov ballerina and an engineer from Leningrad, surrounded by her parents’ Soviet and European music of the 70s. Her music style is often compared to Nico and Leonard Cohen or young Alla Pugacheva, a Soviet singer-songwriter in the 60s, with a voice similar to Tanita Tikaram. Dramatic, corrupt, and superior. Vintage keyboards and synthesiser strings. Red wine and long nights. Fashion shows and her love for women. Her voice may sound familiar, yet remains unmistakably unique. It’s clear that her lyrics are dedicated to women, and this was never a secret. Courage and elegance carried her melodies through fashion shows like Yves Saint Laurent, Dries Van Noten, and Victoria Beckham.
While her concerts include more live aspects and a whole lineup of musicians, all three of her albums were self-produced in the same intimate manner in her bedroom to maintain singleness of expression, a flirtation that continues to this day. Today, Michelle lives with her wife and their daughter in Denmark. It would have been no surprise if she stopped humming love songs, yet she has kept herself busy to avoid a stage or a recording studio gathering dust. Music, as we know, is a powerful tool to strengthen our solidarity, to stay awake, and to stand up for each other.
At this moment, I’m sitting on the hood of an old Cadillac. The jalopy conked out on Route 66. It’s Friday evening. The sunset is colouring my face orange, a new wind is blowing, and Love From A Distance by Michelle Gurevich is playing on the radio.
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