By the time a band hits its sixteenth album, you expect them to coast. Maybe do a nostalgia tour, recycle a few old tricks, toss in a ukulele solo for the fans. But Ed Robertson never got the memo. “It’s so cool to be this excited about new music this far into our career,” the Barenaked Ladies frontman says. “See these gray hairs? I’ve earned every one of them.”
The album’s called Detour de Force, a title born from the world’s most obvious metaphor. “It felt like a tour de force for the band,” Robertson says. “And the detour we were all forced to take because of the pandemic just made it the perfect title.”
What’s surprising, though, is that most of it was written before lockdown. “Maybe I’m clairvoyant,” he jokes, “because I was writing about the place we all ended up in—isolated, being fed a fire hose of bad news.”
That hose inspired “New Disaster,” a jangly pop lament about information overload and collective idiocy. “We’ve got access to the accumulated knowledge of human history,” Robertson says. “We’re more connected than ever—and somehow we’re getting stupider.” He pauses, half amused, half exasperated. “How is Flat Earth on the rise again?”
That question became another song—one that uses conspiracy theories as a stand-in for romantic dysfunction. “It’s about a relationship,” he says. “If she expects me to believe all those things, I may as well believe the Earth is flat.” He laughs. “That’s the trick of songwriting: you take something absurd and make it relatable.”
Even when he’s singing about misinformation and societal breakdown, Robertson does it with empathy. “We still have to listen to people,” he says. “There’s this great documentary called Behind the Curve—about flat-earthers, but it treats them compassionately. These aren’t stupid people; they’re lost people. They find kinship in a community of other people who don’t know what they’re talking about.”
That sense of humanity runs through the record’s more personal moments too. On “Good Life,” Robertson reflects on the peaks and valleys of three decades in a band that’s survived more than most. “That song is absolutely the story of Barenaked Ladies,” he says. “All the ups and downs, but ultimately about being grateful. Tyler [Stewart, drummer] called it a Barenaked Ladies documentary channel banger.”
Robertson laughs, but he’s not joking when he says gratitude was hard-won. “It took decades of therapy,” he admits. “I’m the adult child of an alcoholic. I grew up feeling unsafe and insecure, dealing with imposter syndrome. You can have all the success in the world, but if you don’t feel good with who you are, nothing is enough.” He credits weekly therapy for helping him “forgive that kid” and write with honesty instead of armor.
That emotional openness sits beside songs like “Man Made Lake,” co-written with Canadian songwriter Donovan Woods. “He just threw out the title,” Robertson says. “It was so evocative. I do most of my writing at a cottage on a man-made lake in northern Ontario. Some people say, ‘It’s not real nature,’ but it’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. It’s had time to adapt, to grow into something natural.” He pauses again, the metaphor practically writing itself. “That’s a good way to describe a band, too.”
Not that Detour de Force gets bogged down in introspection. It ends with “Internal Dynamo,” a roaring closer that flips the band’s live dynamic—Robertson behind the drums, Stewart up front on vocals. “We’ve been ending shows that way for years,” he says. “The crowd goes, ‘Wait, the drummer can sing? And the singer’s a wicked drummer?”
He gives credit where it’s due—to his bandmates Kevin Hearn and Jim Creeggan, both long-serving creative engines. “Kevin is the most prolific writer in the band. He does two or three solo records between our records. He’s constantly writing, painting, composing—he’s our shadow warrior. Jim’s the most adventurous bass player I’ve ever worked with. And Tyler—he’s a heat-seeking missile behind the kit. We’re a band of secret weapons.”
Secret weapons with a sense of humor, too. The music video for “New Disaster,” an animated satire by a Marvel illustrator, prompted one very BNL question: does that make them canon in the MCU? “I think it does,” Robertson grins. “I haven’t seen the final episode of Loki yet, but I’m hoping we show up. Maybe Hulk smashes through a venue while we’re onstage. I’d be good with that.”
He’s equally good with where the band stands now—thirty-three years in, selling out Red Rocks, Royal Albert Hall, and still writing songs that actually say something. “It’s a pretty good way to feel this far in,” he says. “We had a blast making this record, even with the weird detour we had to take. We’re proud of it. We’re energized.”
For a band that once sang about “If I Had $1,000,000,” Robertson sounds like he already got everything he wanted.
Watch the interview above and then check out the video below.
