The history of rock is rife with great driving songs: “Radar Love,” “Highway Star,” “I Drove All Night.” To that list, add J.P. Mortier’s “Drive Far,” an instantly addictive entry in the pantheon of tunes that compel you to lean on that pedal just a little bit harder the moment the first bars kick in.
His gas tank full and his yen to explore boundless, the Montreal singer-songwriter accelerates himself through a night of motor-vating all the way ’til dawn, “always searching for what’s just beyond.” At the end of the eternal horizon waits the perfect passenger—someone who can join him in his addiction to the open road.
“Someday I’ll find you,” he promises. “I’ll drive you very far.”
And with music like this, who could resist the invitation? The song is a case study in petrol-burning forward motion, although its galloping rhythm and earthy atmospherics lay bare Mortier’s particular intention to ape the film scores of Ennio Morricone. (The “imaginary Western” feel is cemented by a transcendent trumpet solo from Josiane Rouette.)
“It’s definitely a road song, as the title suggests,” Mortier says. “But it’s also about finding your way in life and finding a partner to take that journey with. I wanted to capture the feeling I got when I was driving in western Canada and the U.S. when I was touring over the past years. Play that song in your car (or while riding your horse) and feel the call to head out on a road trip of your own.”
The number is an exhilarating highlight of Mortier’s latest album, Together, an eclectic collection of tunes it took him three years (and six different studios) to perfect. Care and commitment ring out from every note of the world-class material, ranging from the punked-out and disdainful “Buck the System” to the epic title track, which documents the stages of a relationship over an impressive 16 minutes. (And let’s face it: These days, 16 minutes qualifies as a looong relationship.)
The making of the album itself was indeed a distance event, but it wasn’t solely due to Mortier’s exacting standards. There was a certain worldwide pandemic to contend with, which forced him to entirely rethink (and then re-rethink) his approach to recording. At the same time, he had to weather some intensely personal tragedies: the loss of a 14-year-old guitar student to cancer, and then the passing of his own sister (a protracted and painful process that informed the album’s closing track, “Zen Moment”).
open.spotify.com/album/22kcXvpiqHycglySLFavAF
The end result is far-ranging but uniformly heartfelt—a milestone in Mortier’s ongoing quest to combine the lyricism of Nick Cave, David Bowie and Leonard Cohen with by the sonic power of Pink Floyd and Radiohead. A songwriter for more than 30 years, he’s released seven albums over the course of his illustrious career and mounted a full five cross-country Canadian tours. But if there was ever any risk he’d succumb to the stagnation of routine, the COVID years—and the attendant upheaval they wreaked on the basic process of making and disseminating music—took care of that. Now more on the lookout than ever for innovative ways to get his music before fresh ears, Mortier has hooked up with Dawn Wisner-Johnson and her L.A.-based company, A Matter of Music, to license his songs to films, TV and related media. Their campaign will begin to bear fruit in 2025, when a song from his fourth album, “The Only Bar,” will appear in a documentary on bartenders titled Shaken and Stirred.
So there isn’t just a dream partner waiting at the end of that midnight highway? There’s a bar too? Sounds like the ultimate payoff for years of—pardon the pun—driving ambition. Lock the doors and strap yourself in, because this is going to be the year J.P. Mortier well and truly floors it.
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