The New Canadiana #4: Andrea Cormier

Songwriting as an inner work of attention

Apr 23, 2025

Welcome back to The New Canadiana, the journalistic quest in search of the spirit of Canadian folk and country music right now.

In a world increasingly curated by algorithms and infiltrated by procedural generation, these interviews have been an attempt to honour the connections I have with the real life artists that live here in this place called Canada. These are songwriters writing urgently beautiful music who tend (by the metrics of streaming platforms) to have smaller audiences. Can we carve out a bigger or more meaningful place for them here?

Today I’m honoured to introduce Andrea Cormier, a songwriter and photographer from Cap-Pelé, New Brunswick, who lives now in Nova Scotia. Andrea was the lead singer and songwriter in the Montreal psych-rock band, Beachglass, and in more recent years has been recording and releasing folk music under her own name (including a full length album in 2020 and a self-titled EP in 2024).

Instagram / Facebook / Bandcamp / Website / Youtube / Spotify

Andrea was a participant in this Spring’s City Kid Song Circle where she debuted two new works of exquisite beauty and insight (see her performance of one at our Song Circle showcase below). We had a conversation last week about her approach to songwriting as a mode of inner work and spiritual attention. I think it will be an inspiration not only to other songwriters, but to anyone dedicating themselves to a craft where one’s materials are in some sense one’s own self.

Those of you who have been listening to the series playlist will already be familiar with music from Andrea’s latest self-titled EP. Be sure to follow The New Canadiana and get to know some of the artists we’ll be speaking with in the coming months!

Andrea Cormier: Songwriting as a mode of attention

Matthew: Why do you write songs?

Andrea: Yeah, that is a really big question. I think part of me likes the challenge. It has always been something that is quite difficult for me to do. I like it because it includes so many different processes—writing lyrics, melodies, the structure and parts. In songwriting, I can use a lot of my interests, and I like to bring them all into one place. It’s a really satisfying feeling, like putting a puzzle together as the picture starts to emerge. It feels like that’s what I’m supposed to be doing.

Matthew: I love that image of songwriting as a puzzle. Is there something that you’re seeking when you’re writing a song? Is there an image that you’re reaching for?

Andrea: I’m sure that on some subconscious level there is, but I actually don’t think about the outcome that much. Some people will have a specific theme or feeling in mind, but when I’m writing songs, it really does feel like it comes out of nowhere. I’m just there trying to observe and grab onto it to see what it wants to become.

The words eventually come, especially in moments of stillness.

Matthew: How do the pieces appear to you?

Andrea: Sometimes I’ll be playing guitar, and a melody will start to form in fragments. That’s usually how it starts. I’ll hold on to that piece and build it into something else. That’s when I start to explore the structure, bringing in a bridge or a chorus as the pieces start to fit here and there. The words eventually come, especially in moments of stillness. Some small thought or sentence will just go through my mind, and I have to be like, “Oh, I just heard that, I better remember it or write it down.” When the little bits and pieces come together, then I start to hone in and ask, “What is actually happening here? What am I trying to say?” That’s when I start to see the bigger picture in the fragments.

Matthew: How do you keep track of all the pieces as you’re discovering them?

Andrea: Like a lot of musicians, I use the voice memos app on my phone. Whenever I have something that I think is interesting, I’ll immediately record it. I used to get really obsessed about saving or using every recording but I’ve noticed that even if I record them, it’s the ones that I keep wanting to play or sing that I hold on to. So I try not to get too attached to those memos anymore. I record a bunch of things, and then only take what sticks.

Songwriting as inner work

Matthew: Does it ever feel like the song already exists in some way before it’s written?

Andrea: I think it does—on a subconscious or spiritual level. It’s weird to say, but I do believe that the song exists already.

Matthew: Does it ever feel like the song has an agency or a life of its own?

Andrea: It feels more like a collaboration. It’s almost like the song is knocking at my door, and I have to open the door.

[Music] has forced me to overcome these struggles within myself, and it still does.

Matthew: So there’s some act of obedience or willingness on your part that’s necessary. Were there any blocks or fears that you needed to work through to get to that point?

Andrea: Totally. My whole adult life has been about observing, identifying, and trying to work with—I don’t want to say getting rid of—these obstacles and blockages. I’ve had to do a lot of self-exploration, and with that I’ve been able to develop more trust and openness.

Matthew: Has music always been a part of that process?

Andrea: It has. It’s what keeps me going. It is my therapy in that it has forced me to overcome these struggles within myself, and it still does. That’s one of the reasons why I can’t stop. It continues to help me in my self-development on a spiritual, emotional, and psychological level.

Sharing your stories

Matthew: I really admire the way you release your music as a part of this larger coherent aesthetic vision including the videos, the photos, the album art, and so on. Is sharing and releasing music part of the creative process for you?

Andrea: It’s as if the song needs someone or something to tell its story, and I feel like that’s where I fit in. It’s my duty to share it. And sharing is part of how I connect with people. I’m an introspective, private person, so sharing my music is a way I can communicate my inner world. As an anxious person, I don’t always find it easy to open up and connect with people.

There’s always room for what you want to share.

Matthew: I find that interesting, because sharing and releasing music also takes a lot of bravery. It’s such a vulnerable thing to do!

Andrea: For me that’s been a constant work in progress. The more you do it, the easier it gets. You get to see there are a lot of people open to hearing your stories. There’s always room for what you want to share. I think this is the case for everybody in the world. It’s about trusting that you can take up that space. It’s about seeing it as a gift.

Matthew: That’s such a beautiful thought. Not everyone is going to love the music that I share, but always the person saying the meanest stuff about it is me.

Andrea: [Laughs] Yeah, we are our own worst critics. I’ve learned to even like and embrace that side of me. It pushes you to keep creating.

The Ocean

Matthew: I want to ask you about your most recent release, the self titled EP from 2024. I been noticing in the lyrics a lot of themes of loss—fading memories, departure, something elusive. But at the same time, the music has such a warm presence. Can you reflect on that contrast?

Andrea: Yeah, the lyrics tend to be about longing. I’m always searching for a feeling of comfort or nostalgia. In the songwriting process, I often feel like I’m chasing something, like a certain feeling. Maybe that feeling is [pauses]. I don’t know. This is hard to think about.

Matthew: [Laughs] I guess if we knew, we probably wouldn’t need to write songs!

Andrea: My lyrics do tend to be on the sombre side, but I think there is also a sense of hope or renewal.

Matthew: In the second track, “The Pull”, the closing lyrics speak especially about loss—“erasing all I know, even the silence.” Can you reflect on that theme?

Andrea: This song was written at a pretty difficult time in my life. I had just moved to Halifax and then it was the pandemic. I felt like the life I once knew or had built didn’t exist anymore, and I could see everything just slipping away from me. Moving here wasn’t a choice originally, so it was a hard adjustment. It felt like parts of me were still kind of scattered around in the various places I had lived and that my story hadn’t ended in those places but I could also see they were falling apart.

Maybe it’s about letting go or surrendering? I find peace in the idea of turning off the light.

Matthew: Tell me a bit more about the image in the title, what is “the pull”?

Andrea: I’m referring to the ocean, which is a very important thing in my life. You know when you go to the beach or to the ocean, it feels like you’re almost being sucked in by the waves? It does that for me on an emotional or spiritual level too. I can almost picture myself being pulled in. It feels very inviting and I’m curious about that feeling. I’m not afraid of it.

Matthew: In the album art for your self-titled EP you are by the ocean with a lit lamp, but I noticed there is another small light off in the distance. Was that an intentional detail?

Andrea: It’s funny because that wasn’t part of the original plan. It just fell into place when we took the photo. It was the perfect timing, and it really does complete the narrative of the image. I’ve always liked this image of turning off a lamp, but I don’t know exactly why.

Matthew: Woah. That was actually a big reveal for me, just now, when you said that it’s an image of turning off the light! [Laughs]

Andrea: [Laughs] Maybe I should have left it a mystery.

Matthew: I think I can see the ambiguity there.

Andrea: There’s a lot of that in what I do. I try to embrace the ambiguity. I like the idea of being between two states.

Matthew: That’s exactly what I think of when I look at this album art. There are two lights and there is a great distance between them, but the ocean is present in both places. But now I’m wondering about what it means to turn off the light! [Laughs]

Andrea: Maybe it’s about letting go or surrendering? I find peace in the idea of turning off the light.