Pathways: Julian Taylor’s Search for Grace on the Difficult Road of Justice

Julian Taylor’s new album, Pathways, is the kind of raw, unsettling record we spent time grappling with during our conversation at AmericanaFest 2024. Honestly, it's a rich tapestry of stories and raw, unsettled emotions that felt immediately familiar. Known for his genre-defying style, Taylor delivers an Americana collection that manages to be both profoundly introspective and sweepingly outward-looking, exploring massive themes like identity, justice, and the sheer effort of staying afloat. The album’s success hinges on Taylor’s almost uncanny ability to balance intensely personal narratives with genuinely universal appeal. It's truly something.

It feels crucial to mention right up front that Julian Taylor has been in the trenches for over 30 years, transitioning through phases that included fronting the alt-rock band Staggered Crossing, experimenting with soul and R&B, and now standing as a significant voice in roots music. He's not some overnight phenomenon, but a journeyman whose work has only deepened with time. His critically acclaimed 2020 album The Ridge—an astonishing piece of art, really—introduced many to his gift for crafting songs that feel accessible yet ancient, earning him a Juno nomination for Folk Album of the Year. With Pathways, Taylor continues to expand his craft, offering an album that reflects both his evolution as an artist and his heritage as a Black and Mohawk musician, a subject he approaches with refreshing, complex candour.

The opening song, "See This Thing Through," sets a determined, elbows-out tone. I love the vivid imagery of chasing dreams and the sheer costs along the way. It speaks to the relentless perseverance required to navigate life’s dizzying uncertainties, all encapsulated in the punchy chorus: "I ain’t breaking I’ll keep pushing / I’m gonna see this thing through." The line, “I met Jesus at the bar,” is just fantastic, right? It totally juxtaposes the ordinary with the extraordinary, reflecting that relatable, necessary tension between stubborn hope and grinding struggle. That refrain is such an insistent declaration of resolve; it invites you to consider what it actually takes to hold steady when the whole world is wobbling.

Next up, "Ain't Life Strange" perfectly captures the sheer, baffling complexity of existence, from those fleeting, razor-sharp moments of clarity to the utterly chaotic ways time bends and distorts our perceptions. The repetitive, slightly resigned refrain, “Ain’t life strange,” underscores the song’s deeply reflective mood, constantly questioning the paths we take and the things—and people—we often leave behind. The spare, understated arrangement leaves wide-open room for the lyrics to just hang there and resonate, creating a quiet yet persistent echo of self-examination.

Then there's the truly vital track, "Sixth Line Road," which ventures straight into the thorniest corners of social commentary, addressing systemic injustice and inequality with the surgical precision of a seasoned observer. Taylor’s lyrics, “If you earn it, you deserve it, so why’d they cut you down at the knees?” pose a stark, unforgettable question about fairness and basic humanity. We discussed the genesis of this song—Julian told me it was inspired by Herb Carnegie, a Black Canadian hockey legend whose career was criminally stymied by racism. It's a tragedy that still smarts, and Taylor's deliberate pacing amplifies the message, making this one of the album’s most direct and impactful, honestly necessary pieces.

Taylor’s versatility as a songwriter—that willingness to pivot emotionally—comes through beautifully in "Into the Waves," a song that combines vivid, almost cinematic imagery with a tangible sense of longing. The lyric, “You walked into the waves,” feels like a perfect, potent metaphor for transformation or surrender, inviting multiple interpretations, be they destructive or liberating. Its layered vocals and textured instrumentation provide a kind of sonic depth that supports the lyrical core without ever overwhelming it, leading to a genuinely meditative listening experience.

"Weighing Down" offers a much-needed, different kind of reflection, urging us toward self-forgiveness and kindness—a theme I found especially compelling when speaking with him. Julian was frank about the constant struggle, admitting that the biggest obstacle he faces is himself, a sentiment I think we can all nod along to. He even joked about the universally frustrating experience of daily life, saying, "Everything's hard... I would like, uh, easier to open Can we just start with easier-to-open soya sauce packets." This track is the antidote to that struggle. The repeated, gentle line, “Don’t let it weigh you down,” serves as a gentle but insistent reminder to finally let go of those self-imposed burdens that hinder growth. The subtle arrangement wisely supports the song’s introspective tone, allowing Taylor’s voice to carry the full, necessary weight of the message: “You’ve been so hard on yourself. It’s time to let things soften now.” That's maybe the most important lyric on the whole record, isn't it?

Finally, "Love Letters" shifts the focus to romance, but thankfully not in any conventional, saccharine sense. Referencing famous correspondences, like those between Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West and the legendary Johnny and June Carter Cash, Taylor highlights the enduring, palpable power of written expressions of love. Lines like, “How the words leap off the page and wrap themselves around you,” evoke a kind of tangible, timeless intimacy. The song’s light, deliberate melody perfectly mirrors the care and thoughtfulness that its subject—the act of taking the time to write it all down—requires.

Julian Taylor’s entire approach to songwriting is intentional and deeply layered, seamlessly blending his personal experiences with a broader cultural and historical context. As an artist who bridges multiple genres and identities, his work is, by nature, deeply multifaceted. It’s a journey he tackles with profound caution, admitting, as he did when we spoke during AmericanaFest 2024, that "measuring ourselves can be extremely detrimental... I recognize I have to be careful and not compare myself to the idea of what I think is success and that's a really hard thing to do." That mindset—the war against comparison—is exactly what makes Pathways feel so grounded. In this album, he draws from his roots as both a masterful storyteller and a musician, creating songs that immediately resonate without ever feeling overly manicured or forced. The album’s production strikes this amazing balance between simplicity and sophistication, allowing each track to shine individually while maintaining a beautiful, cohesive feel.

Pathways offers a truly thoughtful exploration of what it means to move through life with intention and self-awareness. The album’s immense strength lies in its ability to tackle enormous themes—identity, love, justice—without ever succumbing to heavy-handedness. Instead, Taylor presents these monumental ideas through stories and imagery that invite genuine reflection without ever dictating meaning. It’s a collection of songs that encourages not just passive listening, but active thinking and feeling—a solid reminder that music, at its best, connects us to ourselves and each other without needing to shout to be heard.