Deb Montgomery has grown accustomed to dwelling in life’s in-between spaces: she’s a Canadian who moved to Seattle from New York City, a rocker with acoustic finesse, and a religious vagabond. Her art, much like her life, welds together what the world likes to separate. Her lyrics are spools of vulnerability and grit, her voice is an unwavering paradox of grief and joy, and her presence is a palpable strength in weakness. Over the course of twenty years and four records, Montgomery has solidified her ability to write and play with unreserved passion.
She’s shared stages and recorded with musicians, writers, and producers—like Andy Stochansky (Ani Difranco), Ron Sexsmith, Bob Wiseman, and Julia Kent—and artfully played solo. Mark Stewart (who has shared stages with Paul Simon, Paul McCartney, and Bob Dylan) puts it this way: “Deb makes you want to hear every word she has to say.” Fluent in the language of mourning and loss, lament and prayer, raging seas and the ache at the heart of things, Montgomery’s music is a river of empathy, coaxing us towards self-reflection and healing.