After becoming one of the most popular alt-bands of the '90s with such hits as "Starseed", "Naveed", "Superman's Dead", "Clumsy", "Is Anybody Home", and "Somewhere Out There", Our Lady Peace took a break in 2006 to spread their individual wings before regrouping this year for an upcoming seventh studio album. In the meantime, free from the confines of a major record label, distinctively unique and socially conscious OLP front man Raine Maida had time to find his own voice and music as a solo artist. After a decade's worth of success fronting one of the most popular bands in North America, Maida soon found himself exploring new personal territory that allowed in to express himself in new and enlightening ways, which culminated in his first solo album called The Hunters Lullaby, which hits store shelves in the U.S. on August 26.

The Hunters Lullaby, as Maida says himself, is an album that's not easily definable but has roots in many different musical styles, including spoken word and folk with hip-hop beat experimentation and softer rock. It's one of the most expressively creative, bold, and artistic albums of the year, which reveals a more mature and fluid Raine Maida than we've come to know from Our Lady Peace. Most of all, as you'd expect from the deeply convicted front man, it's a true reflection of himself as he wanted it to be.

With The Hunters Lullaby set to bow in the U.S. next week, we took a call from Raine Maida to explore where he's at as a solo artist, what the experience taught him, how he's grown, and what type of impact his solo experience will have on the future sound of Our Lady Peace.

THE DEADBOLT: So, how much pressure did you feel to put out a solo album?

RAINE MAIDA: I don’t know. There’s really no pressure. It was no more than a timing thing for me, you know. I had a bunch of these ideas and I kind of got back into poetry and heavily into the whole spoken word movement that’s been going on for a little while now. I guess I just had some time where I could work on these songs and build them up into these songs and have them not really compromise the words in the poetry that I was doing. That was a big thing for me, because when I first started my band, Our Lady Peace, I’d come from more of a poetry background and studied in prose and creative writing. And all of that stuff was always kind of a passion and obviously helped me sing. But it seemed like in the band format and making the record, and the pop song structure, whether you’re in an emo band, punk band, or a rock band - those curves are there and I felt like my poems and I were really compromised to where they weren’t really poems anymore.

So I kind of forewent all of that stuff and concentrated on writing lyrics. You know, more condensed thoughts and not being as expressive and, well, like I said over the last five years, I’m able to get back to writing poetry and I just wanted to find the right format. It kind of happened really organically and it was a good time. OLP was taking a break and I had a moment to dig into this stuff and see if I could put some beats to it and find some textures, and it worked. I felt like at the end of the day these pieces I had weren’t getting compromised and I was pretty psyched about that. I will say, it did sound like a hip-hop record for a little while, which I was scared of. So it was nice that I found the right palette to put the words to.

THE DEADBOLT: How liberating was it to be free of the conventional rock-pop limitations?

MAIDA: I mean it was like an art project, really. I mean it wasn’t literally, but I just felt like I was finger painting. It was so visceral and rudimentary for me. I just felt like, "Okay, here I am with like reason and I’m programming beats." And I’m not a hip-hop guy, so that is something that’s kind of new to me. So I felt like a kid learning to play guitar. Even though it wasn’t a guitar, it was beats and words.

THE DEADBOLT: Was it hard to find the right organic balance in making sure you weren't trying too hard not to sound like Our Lady Peace?

MAIDA: Yeah, definitely. The balance for me, like I said, it had this because it was programmed and then the words came next. It was just simple musical textures. The balance was getting it to feel like it was organic, because I didn’t want to make this kind of hip-hop record. And it took a while. I basically ended up having a friend of mine playing on top of the programmed beats and I just took them out. And it was surprising because just having real drums in the way I recorded them, kind of compressed, a little bit low-fi sounding, it was just automatically... You take out those beats and it just felt more organic and it felt real and it gave it an honesty that I think the songs needed.

THE DEADBOLT: The Hunters Lullaby has an air of Leonard Cohen meets James Taylor. What were you feeling at the time as far as influences?

MAIDA: Well, you know, being a good ol' Canadian boy, the whole hunter thing is: I just picture myself with big boots on and a big winter jacket, hiking through the snow across a lake or through the woods up North in Ontario where I’m from. There are many dimensions to that kind of solitude. I think the first dimension is definitely that this is my first solo outing. I did it all myself. I produced and engineered and mixed the whole thing. And that, in itself, is a journey. The second dimension would be the fact that I think I own the masters to this. Talk about liberating. I never thought that I’d be with Sony for ten or eleven years. They were pretty cool to us and I was never one of those guys who slams a label just for being a major label. They were pretty good to us. But finally making a record on my own without that hanging around in my subconscious, I truly realized, "Wow, the freedom does grant you more freedom," if that makes sense.

THE DEADBOLT: Does technology help you with the freedom as well?

MAIDA: I don’t know. I guess it does. I think we’re all in the same boat as far as technology. Whether you’re on a major label or on an Indie making it yourself, you have to kind of expand what we know and how to get music to people. So there’s probably a thousand different models out there in terms of what’s going on and I think we’re all trying to search for the right one. But there is a freedom. You have something like MySpace, and to be able to put up stuff and not have a label or some bean counter tell you what you can and cannot do, you feel like an artist again definitely that way.

THE DEADBOLT: I was listening to Hunters Lullaby the other day and my editor thought it sort of had a Bauhaus type of feel to it, too. Were you influenced by them?

MAIDA: Probably to bands in that genre. I was a big Peter Murphy fan. The weird thing for me was when I went to mix the stuff I finally - Anytime people go to mix stuff, they usually put something up for reference, just in terms of the sound and the dimension and reverbs and all of that stuff, and try to just get a sense of where you want to place it in terms of how you’re going to mix it. I couldn’t find anything to put up. I put up like a Sage Francis CD or Saul Williams or Leonard Cohen and it doesn’t sound like any of them. And if I were to put up a Peter Murphy CD or Bauhaus, it wouldn’t sound like that either. I think I realized, "Okay, I’m definitely not reinventing the wheel." But for me it felt like this really organic kind of thing that I’m doing that was, I guess, a little bit on it’s own, which I really love. I really got excited about it again when I stared mixing it because I couldn’t peg it on what it sounded like.

THE DEADBOLT: It's funny how some people have been confusing spoken word with rap. Did you have to learn a new sense of timing as far as lyrics and vocals?

MAIDA: Not really. I’ve always had - I don’t know if I have rhythm or whatever, but I’ve always been kind of adept at doing it and I do like some hip-hop, obviously. I think you’d look at a guy like [Sage] Francis, I would say probably the most talented, I don’t know if you can define him - hip-hop, spoken word, whatever - he’s just probably one of the most brilliant wordsmiths. The way he delivers it, what he’s saying probably of our generation if not ever, that goes back to KRS-One and Talib Kweli. And I think Mos Def is up there in a sense, too. But definitely in Saul Williams and in a million other people, but Sage just has this way, man. I’ve never heard anyone as good as him. So I’m kind of ingesting a lot of his stuff, which definitely helped. Not that I’m anywhere close to what he does, but he definitely pushes the boundaries,

THE DEADBOLT: Did you struggle for ideas on how to promote the album since it's not like OLP, or did it come easy?

MAIDA: I think being with Nettwerk was a nice change for me in a sense of they’re an all-in management company. I think with any artist when they move away from a major label, you can be freaked out in the sense that you don’t have any support system. Nettwerk has a built in product manager and someone to help you with the new media and someone to help you with the artwork and all of the little details and all of that stuff. So the good about them, though, is they don’t have the major label mentality. It was working with a bunch of your peers rather than a bunch of people who don’t have a lot of respect for you, usually, so that was a nice change for me and it helped a great deal.

THE DEADBOLT: So it was Nettwerk that got "Yellow Brick Road" radio play?

MAIDA: Yeah. I think delivering the record and letting them hear it, I don’t know if anyone thought, "This isn’t a hit record," the way other bands get on the radio and video and stuff like this. This was more of an underground grass roots type of thing. But they thought, "Okay, here’s a song that sounds like maybe if someone were to take a chance and get it on radio." And they did and we really didn’t spend a lot of money. But we went and talked to some radio stations and surprisingly we got full support, so that definitely helped it. But I think all of the moves we made were very much in tune with the way I felt made this record. It was just me late at night, just kind of on my own. I didn’t do a proper video. I did this busking thing in Toronto to help build a school in the Congo and just things like that are really intrinsic to the nature of how I see this record, and I was really glad I was able to make every decision on my own.

THE DEADBOLT: So this must have been more about giving back and making a difference through War Child rather than recognition as a solo artist?

MAIDA: Yeah. We talked about doing a video and I have a couple of friends who are directors, one in Toronto, one in L.A., and a couple of other people in Europe that I really like, and we talked about "Yellow Brick Road" and maybe that or "Sex Love and Honey" to just make some sort of video for. So I sent it to these people and I got back some e-mails and what they thought of the song and what they envisioned. And I just started to get that feeling in my stomach. I thought, "Oh God, this is turning into a music video." So I called Nettwerk and I called my manager, Dan, and I said , "You know what? I’m just not into this. This is not what this record is about and I don’t want to go down that path. So I think I’ll forego a video."

And it was like that for a few days and then, all of a sudden, one day I had this idea that what about instead of making a video - I’m obviously talking to War Child all of the time, and I was thinking about that, and I thought, "Wow." Chantal and I the year before in 2006, we took the whole year with friends and family and donations online and stuff, we raised $30,000 to build a school in the Congo, which was amazing. That school is built and it took a year and I thought, "What if I went to busk Toronto and we raise enough money in a day to build a school?" So I said, "Okay, if I have to go play music, I’ll play my music and use it as a tie-in with the solo record." But it’s not a video, it’s doing something good and it’s a challenge, basically, to my fellow Torontonians and anyone else who wanted to be involved.

I took it on as this challenge and I mentioned to a couple of people, $30,000 in a day. Even people at War Child were like, "Okay, are you sure you want [to]? You could end up raising $2200 and look like a failure." And I was like, "Yeah. You know what? Let’s try it." So we went and did it and we didn’t get $30,000, we got $22,000 that day. And in the next two weeks online and some checks that came in we were able to finish and get the $30,000. But I was just like - it was like a mission, you know? And it was such an inspiring day. It just showed me what I always thought music could do, like the power of music and the power of humanity and people getting involved and it was just that kind of day. It wasn’t just fans of mine or fans of OLP coming by and donating. I was on Bay Street during lunch hour, I was everywhere. I was playing where the money was and these people with suits who didn’t know who I was. But we made this sign with War Child and it just showed a school, before and a school after, and it explained it in a really concise and easy way. And while people were walking by, they took a look. Some of the richer - You know, you get some of these Bay Street guys and they pull $50 or $100 out of their wallet and I’m like, "Wow." All it takes is people to have a chance to understand something and open their hearts. And like I said, I was really inspired at the end of that day.

THE DEADBOLT: Has living in L.A. had an affect on your songwriting and approach to music?

MAIDA: I don’t know. Living here, I’ve definitely been able to work with a lot of different people. Even being here three years ago I saw his thing at UCLA, it was a lecture by Brian Eno, and I’ve always been a huge Brian Eno fan, I think he’s unique. So Brian told a concept that night in a two and a half hour lecture. It basically was - collaboration is the one thing that has driven humanity and helped us evolve, whether it’s through the arts, science, and he said, "No matter what, you need to collaborate." Obviously he’s worked with the Talking Heads and U2 and he said, "Sometimes writing a song or writing an idea, even having someone else in the room that isn’t a musician is going to cause different synapses to happen in your brain because there will be some sort of nerve. And having that person in that room will do something to you. It will bring out something different. Just by virtue of that, how could you not want that?"

It’s not necessarily all of the time, but he said, "We are social creatures and collaboration is a huge part of that." So if you put that onto music - I’ve really taken that to heart and some of the people I collaborate with are, you know, it’s not an enjoyable experience. But you learn from it and that’s the positive thing you take out of it. Some people you learn from it, the important parts and the worthwhile parts of songwriting and the art and expression of it and really honing in on the things you know are worthwhile and you can be passionate about.

THE DEADBOLT: This album feels like you've matured from a songwriter into more of a storyteller. How will that change in you impact the future sound of OLP?

MAIDA: Well, we’ve almost finished the OLP record now and it’s definitely made its way into it. But it’s not as far as my solo record went, because the fact is: when you’re doing more of a kind of - for me I’m still a big chorus guy, so there are choruses on my songs. But a lot of the verses are kind of spoken, you just have more syllables. You have more time, more phrasing, and more words to tell a story. And so it’s just like reading a comic or reading a novel. It’s obviously not to those extremes, but I feel with my solo record the whole purpose was to take these poems and these words and not cut out the fat. That’s the thing you want to do as a songwriter, simplify the melody or whatever. Well, fuck it. I said on my record I’m not doing it and that was the whole point of making my record. But getting back OLP, it’s like there are longer melodies and stuff. You just can’t say as much. So I’m not sure if I’m just not clever enough to do it in less words or it’s just more difficult. I’m not sure. It might come down to I’m truly just not clever enough at it, but I’m fine with that.

THE DEADBOLT: With OLP, how comfortable are you in today's music world with the pressure to produce hits and compromise when you don't want to?

MAIDA: I think OLP is in a much different boat. We’ve really taken a page and I think I was able to convince the guys the way I made my solo record is the way we should make our new OLP record. And that’s what we’ve done. They come out here probably once every two or three months for a couple of weeks and we just sit and write music and record it right away. There’s no, "Okay, let’s demo up this and demo this and see what we think." It’s like we have an idea, let’s write, finish it, and record it. That’s one of the things I’ve learned over the last five or six years, is really just to try and capture that moment as best you can. And that’s what we’ve done and probably made the best record yet. I know every band says that with every record, but it’s not about writing hits or trying to placate to radio or a record company, because we’re essentially off of our label as well, and that just gives you a whole new freedom.

So we’ve been able to have a lot of fun making music and feeling real inspiration in the studio when we’re recording. It’s taken a long time to get here, but I’m grateful. It’s been an incredible experience recording with these guys. There’s been no pressure. And again, no one has heard the record and we’re almost done it, even our management. I think our manager has heard two songs. It’s like it’s been the closest thing to when we were in a rehearsal hall in Mississauga before we had a record deal, writing the songs that got us signed. I feel that energy. And again, it’s sad that it took so long to get back to that, but I’m really happy that we’re able to.

THE DEADBOLT: Does it feel like a completely different world than the days of Naveed?

MAIDA: It definitely does. Like I said, when we signed I was never the label bashing guy and there was a simplicity when we were making music back then, even when we signed. I guess we were signed under the auspices of, "There’s a band we kind of like, let’s give them a bit of money." We never had a bidding war, it wasn’t a big deal. It was like someone was going to pay for our record and we were like, "Fuck it, that’s great." That was a way to make a record back then, "We’ll take it." And we kind of didn’t know what we were getting into and didn’t know where it would evolve. And the fact that, "Oh, we’re actually on a major label," and all the bullshit that goes along with that. But there was a simplicity. Today there is just the music business and all of that shit is overwhelming.

It’s kind of sad because a lot of artists that I develop and work with - You know, I kind of sign artists and develop in a way artists should develop - let them write songs and let them get better before they even think about making a record, playing, and all of that stuff. It’s almost like they can’t do that. I had a discussion with one of these artists that I’m working with right now and I asked her what she’s been doing the last week when I was doing something else and couldn’t record with her. She’s been on MySpace twelve hours a day trying to get her friends up. And I'm like, "Fuck, that’s so sad." Although I think it’s a power because you’re able to do that yourself, artists should really be sitting at home writing songs. And that’s what I felt like back when we signed the deal. That’s all I did. I didn’t worry about any of the bullshit. I had a manager to deal with all of the crap. All I did was write music and go out and play.

Now it’s like you have to do so much and you have to like an entrepreneur and you’re your own little mega-mogul inside your own world. I think at the end of the day, unfortunately it takes away from the music. You can’t spend as much time being an artist. So the artists who are out there right now and don’t give a fuck and are still just true artists. I think those are the ones, even though they might not be on MTV... bands that just make records and they go out there and play. They kind of brush off all of the new technology that everyone is supposed to adhere to and it’s a good and bad, a double-edged sword of what’s going on. But I miss the simplicity, definitely.