Exclusive Article: The Resilience and Radiance of Kat Goldman
- Megan Routledge
- 2 days ago
- 8 min read
Updated: 13 minutes ago
Introduction by Megan Routledge
It’s always a joy when an artist we love surprises us with more than just great songs — when they turn out to be as genuine, warm, and hilarious in real life as they are poetic and poignant in their music. That’s Kat Goldman.
One of Canada’s most gifted and unsung songwriters, Kat’s journey through the highs and heartbreaks of the music industry reads like a novel.
In this exclusive excerpt from Stevie Connor’s forthcoming memoir The Long Road to Flin Flon, our very own Stevie — long‑time admirer turned dear friend — offers an intimate portrait of Kat’s extraordinary path. From Harvard to a Toronto bagel shop, from cassette tapes to book deals, this story is all heart.
The Resilience and Radiance of Kat Goldman, A Songwriter’s Songwriter
There are songwriters, and then there are those rare souls who live in their songs — who carry their lived experience into every syllable, every note, and somehow manage to leave a piece of themselves behind in the music. Kat Goldman is that kind of songwriter. One of the most gifted and grounded artists I’ve had the honour to know, and a woman whose music has carved itself deep into the fabric of Canada’s folk and roots scene.
I was a fan long before I became a friend — but that’s how it often goes in this business if you’re lucky. Kat's catalogue, filled with searing vulnerability and razor-sharp observation, had always struck me as something rare and quietly revolutionary. Her voice — at once intimate and commanding — pulled me in from the very first listen.
When I first landed in Canada, I quickly caught wind that Kat was back in town — home from Boston — and performing in Toronto. I turned to my wife, Anne, and said, “I have to see her live.” That night, the venue was The Painted Lady on Ossington Avenue — an iconic spot co-owned by friends we were introduced to through our good pal Richard Flohil (but that’s another chapter for another day). As we stepped through the doors, I happened to glance left — and there, stretched out on a bench seat, was a woman doing back exercises. I half-joked: “Kat Goldman?” She looked up and said, “Yes, I am.”
Stevie Connor and Kat Goldman at The Painted Lady, Toronto.
What followed was one of those quiet, magical moments the universe sometimes grants you — a lovely chat before a mesmerizing set. That night I didn’t just hear Kat Goldman sing — I heard her, and something in me shifted. Her Gypsy Girl album was already etched in my heart, but to witness her live, and then talk after the show, left me over the moon. I couldn’t have imagined then that years later, we’d become close friends — that Anne, Kat, and I would share swims, brunches, laughter, and days in each other’s company. One of my all-time favourite songwriters had somehow become one of our people.
How does that work? The universe, it seems, has its own strange and beautiful choreography.
But before all that — the brunches and buddy-hood — there was Annabel.
Ah, Annabel. Let’s linger there a moment.
In 2002, a devoted fan slipped James Keelaghan — a titan of Canadian folk in his own right — two cassette tapes of Kat Goldman’s music. James listened. And being the generous soul that he is, he passed the music on to a band in Winnipeg that was beginning to stir up quite a bit of buzz: The Duhks. Fronted by the visionary Leonard Podolak, the band was hungry for songs that had both substance and soul.
Enter Annabel — a heart-achingly beautiful song written by Kat in honour of her beloved grandmother. As Leonard later told it, the band connected with it instantly. He recalled:
“Annabel' we got from Kat Goldman, who's a great songwriter from Toronto. The song was written when her grandmother died. When I played it for Jessica Havey, it just naturally came together. When we arranged it, it took about 15 minutes. A lot of songs are like pulling teeth, but this one just happened. It's one of our favorite ones.”
Think about that for a second: a song written from grief and love, scribbled into existence from the raw edge of memory, ends up on the debut album of a Grammy-nominated band.
The Duhks recorded it on Your Daughters & Your Sons, and in doing so, they sent Kat’s songwriting into the global folk conversation. Annabel went on to be featured in the gritty television series Hell On Wheels, and even served as the theme for Kenny Hotz's Triumph of the Will. All from a tune written straight from the heart. That’s the power of song. That’s the magic of Kat Goldman.
But as with all great tales, light and shadow dance together. In 2004, just as Kat was preparing for a major move to New York City to chase what looked like her big break, fate blindsided her — quite literally. While visiting a bakery in downtown Toronto, a car crashed through the storefront, striking her. It was the kind of freak accident that could easily end a music career.
For Kat, it marked the beginning of a gruelling two-year recovery process.
She fought hard — physically and mentally — to return to the life she loved. And in 2006, with characteristic courage, she eased her way back into music by lending her voice to Jeffery Straker’s debut album, Songs from Highway 15. It was a gentle re-entry, but it mattered. Each step forward was a reclaiming of her voice, her story, her song.
And then came Sing Your Song — her 2007 comeback album.
Let me tell you: this wasn’t just a return — it was a declaration. Critics and fans alike took notice. The title track earned Kat yet another honourable mention at the International Songwriting Competition (her second, after The Great Disappearing Act). The album featured standouts like Driving All Night, a track that received well-deserved airplay on CBC and drew comparisons to the best nighttime listening experiences — intimate, emotional, and true.
Dar Williams, no stranger to the highs and lows of this industry, said of the album: “Wonderful — I can't imagine the world without it.” Another reviewer described the record as “a record to play at night when you’re feeling a bit introspective and maybe even lonely.” And another said it was “consistently life-affirming until the end and more importantly, without betraying a hint of sentimentality.”
Later in 2007, more doors opened. Several of Kat’s earlier tracks — including the tongue-in-cheek gem Everyone’s Getting Married — were featured in the Lifetime film I Me Wed. She played at Club Passim in Cambridge, a holy ground for folk artists, visited NPR's World Cafe in Philadelphia, and opened for the one and only Colin Hay (yes, from Men at Work — the guy who does come from the land Down Under).
Fast forward a few years — and word reached me that Kat was preparing a new album, The Workingman’s Blues, produced by none other than Bill Bell, the brilliant guitarist for Tom Cochrane (and an effortlessly cool human being to boot). I was eager to hear it. And when I finally did — well, it floored me.
I wrote a review that came straight from the heart. I remember comparing the album to a stage musical — every track flowing into the next like scenes in a journey. There was a cinematic quality to it, yet the emotion was always grounded and personal. It was a fabulous release, and Kat loved the piece. She sent me a warm message in response, and we exchanged a few heartfelt emails.
And then... silence.
The launch at Hugh’s Room came and went — and all went quiet. I found myself wondering: what happened ? Was everything okay ? It wasn’t like Kat to vanish like that, especially after such a strong release. I checked in. Nothing. Weeks passed.
And then, at last, a message came.
Kat opened up about how completely spent she was — physically, emotionally, spiritually. The return from the U.S., the intense production of the album, the hopes and pressures surrounding its release — it had taken a heavy toll. She was, in her words, “wiped out.”
We spoke at length, and during that conversation, something unexpected bloomed. I asked if she’d ever thought about writing a blog — maybe something funny, reflective, true-to-life.
She paused. A few days later, she got back to me with a title and a twinkle: The Disgruntled Songwriter.
The blog series launched on Blues & Roots Radio and quickly became a fan favourite — hilarious, insightful, and brutally honest.
Wouldn’t you know it — those columns turned into a book.
In Spring 2021, Kat released Off The Charts: What I Learned From My Almost Fabulous Life In Music (Sutherland House Books).
It’s a riotous, heartfelt, and wonderfully off-kilter look at the music industry through Kat’s uniquely brilliant lens. It covers everything from dating a rock star (never again!), performing in a grocery store, being hit by a car in a bagel shop, to navigating the ego-crushing rollercoaster of the music business with humour and humility.
Somehow — with her voice, her wit, and her incredible tenacity — Kat has stayed the course in an industry that rarely makes space for nuance or truth.
She’s been almost-famous, fully-brilliant, and always real. And in a beautiful full-circle moment, she mentioned me in the book acknowledgments. That meant the world.
But more than any of that, what I still marvel at is this: I once nervously introduced myself to Kat Goldman at The Painted Lady, starry-eyed and thrilled just to say hello. Now, years later, we've laughed together over brunch and have swun as friends — genuine, dear friends.
The universe, it seems, is very good at orchestrating the unexpected.
And speaking of the unexpected — one morning, a couple of years ago, I went out for a walk. When I came back, there was a package waiting at the door. I hadn’t ordered anything, so I was curious. It was addressed to me. I opened it up to find an RCA Vintage Style Mini Fridge inside. I stood there blinking — what?
Whoever sent it knew I’d put it to good use. I was stumped, but incredibly grateful.
Then came a message on social media, as I'd posted a thank you to the mysterious donor: “It was me, silly.” Kat had sent the gift. Just because. What a girl !
I love Kat for her honesty — the way she shares her journey with humour, heart, and no filter. She's brave enough to laugh at the madness of it all, and kind enough to bring you along for the ride. Sometimes in life, you meet someone who just gets you, and you get them. No drama, no pretense — just a real connection.
I count myself lucky that on The Long Road To Flin Flon, Kat Goldman became part of the story.
What a gift....
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Stevie Connor, a Scottish-born polymath of the music scene, is renowned for his versatility across various domains within the industry. Initially destined for football, Stevie's heart found its true calling in music. His multifaceted journey has seen him excel as a musician, composer, recording artist, journalist, and internet radio pioneer.
In 2012, Stevie laid the foundation for Blues and Roots Radio, an online platform that quickly became a global stage for blues, roots, folk, Americana, and Celtic music. His visionary leadership propelled the platform to international acclaim. Not content with just one venture, Stevie expanded his influence in 2020 by founding The Sound Cafe Magazine, a multilingual platform dedicated to artist interviews, album reviews, and music news.
Stevie's impact extends beyond these platforms. His discerning ear and industry acumen have presented opportunities to be selected as a juror for national awards such as the JUNO Awards, the Canadian Folk Music Awards, and the Maple Blues Awards. Through his tireless efforts, he has earned a solid reputation within the music community, garnering respect from peers and artists alike.
Despite his extensive responsibilities, Stevie remains deeply connected to his roots, both musically and geographically. He continues to contribute to the vibrant tapestry of the music world, ensuring his influence resonates far beyond any single platform. Stevie's enduring passion and commitment to music make him a true luminary in the industry.
Stevie is a verified journalist on the global PR platform, Muck Rack.