Theyí¢â‚¬â„¢re the hottest gals on the Canadian jazz/blues scene, both vying for the Female Vocalist of the Year trophy at upcoming edition of the Canadian Maple Blues Awards. So what are they doing on the folk circuit?

They prefer it. Thatí¢â‚¬â„¢s the answer volunteered by the pair of them, each of whom I chatted with at the three-day Ottawa Folk Festival earlier this year, Dawn over a quick salad, Ndidi while collecting money for a local food bank, an act of charity and showmanship that garnered her some brownie press. Ití¢â‚¬â„¢s a contrast indicative of their styles: the down-to-earth Dawn Tyler Watson, unafraid to be captured in her most natural circumstances; the always-on Ndidi Onukwulu, ever dressed in Billie Holiday chic, who couldní¢â‚¬â„¢t shake the showbiz out of her bones even at her most sincere and giving.

Over the course of the festival, these ladies appeared in more guises than a master spy. Dawn appeared on the main stage in her usual configuration í¢â‚¬“ in the company of versatile guitarist Paul Deslauriers í¢â‚¬“ and in jam sessions with rappers, world beat veterans, and slide players. Ndidi strutted her feminine wiles in the company of country singers, folk purists, and funk lovers. í¢â‚¬Å“Thatí¢â‚¬â„¢s whatí¢â‚¬â„¢s so great about folk festivals,í¢â‚¬  raves Dawn, í¢â‚¬Å“Folk music is much more free form than anything else I sing. When people call me a blues singer, or a jazz singer, I feel trapped.í¢â‚¬ 

Dawn grew up on R&B before her musical education took a major turn at Montrealí¢â‚¬â„¢s Concordia University. í¢â‚¬Å“They had two music programs at that time: jazz and classical. So I took jazz.í¢â‚¬  After graduation í¢â‚¬“ which included a minor in theatre í¢â‚¬“ she was asked by a record company to cut a pair of blues sides for an upcoming sampler. Her voice, with its exploratory effrontery, swayed them like a sapling in a hurricane. Before she knew it, she was the new darling of the Canadian blues circuit.

í¢â‚¬Å“I felt like such a phony,í¢â‚¬  she confesses, í¢â‚¬Å“All the time I kept thinking, í¢â‚¬ËœWhen am I going to get found out? When are these people going to discover that Ií¢â‚¬â„¢m not really a blues singer?í¢â‚¬â„¢ í¢â‚¬ 

í¢â‚¬Å“See, my problem with blues is, Ií¢â‚¬â„¢m a story teller. And with blues, everybodyí¢â‚¬â„¢s heard those stories before. Ití¢â‚¬â„¢s always í¢â‚¬ËœMy man done left meí¢â‚¬â„¢ and all of that. I like other forms of music, like folk, because they allow me to explore more verbally.í¢â‚¬ 

It was no surprise then, given Dawní¢â‚¬â„¢s bent for the literary, that her best pairing of the Festival í¢â‚¬“ outside of right-hand man Deslauriers of course - was with one Ridley Bent, a country rapper from B.C. able to trade couplets with her at cattle-auction speed. He was a good fit for Ndidi too, bringing out her Norah Jones-esque melancholy whenever he opted for a ballad.

í¢â‚¬Å“I think Norah Jones is great,í¢â‚¬  Ndidi purrs a la Eartha Kitt, her stumping for the food bank momentarily over, í¢â‚¬Å“If thatí¢â‚¬â„¢s where my career is going, fantastic!í¢â‚¬ 

It may well be. Since the release of her debut CD í¢â‚¬Å“No, I Neverí¢â‚¬ , Ndidií¢â‚¬â„¢s fortunes have risen like the proverbial early bird. Critics not only love the disc í¢â‚¬“ ití¢â‚¬â„¢s up for Best Recording at those same Maple Blues Awards - theyí¢â‚¬â„¢re in awe of her hypnotic power over an audience, a phenomenon I witnessed first hand when she performed to a roomful of sleepy, middle-class white hairs at 11 A.M. on the Festivalí¢â‚¬â„¢s first full day. By 11:15, that room was the most happeniní¢â‚¬â„¢ spot in the city, Ndidií¢â‚¬â„¢s faux coyness and inspiring vocal abandon having charmed the bifocaled cobra out of the Viagra-poppiní¢â‚¬â„¢ basket.

í¢â‚¬Å“Energyí¢â‚¬ , she explains, í¢â‚¬Å“Thatí¢â‚¬â„¢s how it works. I create it and they create it in turn, and all weí¢â‚¬â„¢re doing after that is trading energy back and forthí¢â‚¬  í¢â‚¬“ a give-and-take she exercised all weekend, with ukulele players, bluegrass babies, and her rock of Gibraltar, Afro-Canadian guitar master Madagascar Slim.

As for the future, both ladies are struggling with which turn-off to take. Dawn hasní¢â‚¬â„¢t put out an album in five years, not since í¢â‚¬Å“Ten Dollar Dress,í¢â‚¬  an eternity in the recording racket. Sheí¢â‚¬â„¢s been busy acting í¢â‚¬“ see the Quebecois release, í¢â‚¬Å“Jack Paradise: Nights of Montrealí¢â‚¬  í¢â‚¬“ and trying, through initiatives such as the Ottawa Folk Festival, to increase her presence in Anglo Canada.

Ndidi, meanwhile, has been hinting at a collaboration with the aforementioned geetar-slayer/poet Ridley Bent. Could that be why sheí¢â‚¬â„¢s currently on tour in B.C.?

As for the Maple Blues Awards, let either of them take the hardware home. Whether they prefer to be classified as jazz, blues, or folk singers, their talent is easy to recognize. No trophy can change the chameleonic skin of these two ladies, a skin as colorful as those ambitiously tattooed legs of Nididií¢â‚¬â„¢s, the ones that led that 11 A.M conga and shook the cityí¢â‚¬â„¢s blues away. Fans can vote for Dawn or Ndidi for this yearí¢â‚¬â„¢s Maple Blues Awards by visiting their websites: www.dawntylerwatson.com or www.ndidi.ca.

By: Dan Lalande