FEATURE: DRUGSTORE COWBOYS

The Cowboy Junkies aren't just mellow troubadours. Inspired by the passionate Michael Timmins, these Canadian crooners play the songs that make the whole world sing. There are certain concerts that go down in history for their importance. Like Hendrix's blazing set at Monterey, there are particular nights of unparalleled musical perfection. Definitely less known, though equally striking, was the Cowboy Junkies' one-hour live set from the Toronto Church of the Holy Trinity. Huddled around a single microphone, the Cowboy Junkies strolled their way through an evening of perfect blissful, melodic tunes that became the much-hailed Trinity Sessions. Carried by Margo Timmins' stunning soulful voice and poignant lyrics, the Cowboy Junkies music is at once relaxing and mesmerising, and the Trinity Sessions garnered them a cult following and significant critical praise. Shift scenes to Philadelphia's Theater of the Living Arts on South Street. The TLA's laid-back crowd ranges from straight-laced pre-teens to middle-aged ex-hippies, diversity being the crowd's only defining factor. But they all have one thing in common: all are entranced by the ethereal voice of lead singer Margo Timmins. As the adoring audience silently mouths the words (it seems to be sacrilegious among Junkies' faithful to sing along), it is apparent that the band's following is far from transient. However, it is less obvious that the artistic force behind the Cowboy Junkies is not the sultry Margo Timmins, but rather a slight, long-haired figure slouched over his guitar, comfortably lingering in the background. It takes a sharp eye (and a little prior knowledge) to identify him as Margo's brother Michael, the Junkies' chief songwriter. Slender and inconspicuous, Michael Timmins is far from a ready-made pop star. He has been married for five years and is no youth sensation, having completed his undergraduate education at the University of Western Ontario before ever founding a band. "I had always loved music, and when I came out of university I sort of bummed around for a year not really knowing what to do. It wasn't until a year out of university that I formed my first band." In fact, his brand of mellow blues/jazz/country does not seem to lend itself to alternative-rock super stardom. Timmins, himself, is as down to earth as the music he writes. But it also seems that the dreary climate of his native Toronto has seeped into his soul and colored his creations. "I think being a Canadian [has some influence], but I couldn't say what. I think the weather has a lot to do with it." Perhaps tempered by age or brittled by Canadian weather, Timmins creates music that is emotional and honest. As a songwriter, he consciously avoids hollow social or political messages. "I'm not a fan of lyrics which are overtly political. I find them boring and a bit insulting, really, to the listener's intelligence if it's a very complicated political issue. To pretend that you can bring anything to it in three or four minutes is a bit useless. I prefer songs that deal more with personal emotions, personal politics." The emotion of choice in the Cowboy Junkies' lyrics is love, especially its more melancholy aspects. For example, "White Sail" on the Junkies' latest release Pale Sun, Crescent Moon alludes to the myth in which Jason returns home to his father, but tragically forgets to change his sail from black to white. Timmins admits, "I've always loved that image, the image of someone watching for a sign from afar. Of course, it's always the wrong sign." Back at the TLA, Margo confesses her brother's plaintive leanings when she introduces the band's current single, "Anniversary Song." "People always say that the Cowboy Junkies don't have any happy songs," she stated. "So we wrote a happy song." As a ripple of laughter goes through the audience and the band starts the upbeat single, one is reminded that Michael Timmins' token 'happy' song is also his most popular. Although he still places a premium on artistic purity, Timmins seems troubled by the fact that the Cowboy Junkies have hovered on the brink of commercial success ever since they released Trinity Sessions in 1988. He shrugs. "We just don't get played on MTV." But Timmins' spirits brighten when he hears that "Anniversary Song" was a shriek of the week on WDRE. "To be on a play list with [bands like Pearl Jam and Depeche Mode] is great because they are attracting a lot of young listeners." The Cowboy Junkies are more than willing to work for success. When they came to Philly on February 28th, the band had only been on the road for a week. But they had already performed in Boston, Ithaca, New Haven, Amherst, and Burlington. "We're playing pretty much every night with every fifth or sixth night off." Timmins waxes philosophical: "Once you turn 25, 26, 27, the coolness, fun factor goes out of [a musical career]. You better be enjoying it for actually playing." During such introspective interludes, one gets the impression that the figure lurking behind the captivating singer contains more vitality than his unassuming demeanor would suggest. "Music has to be a passion. That's what I'm saying. If you have a choice whether you want to quit or not, then you should quit. Because you shouldn't have a choice. It should just be so passionate that you have to do it. It just drives you."