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Musician Marek
Tyler
“Right then and there, it clicked for me,” recalls Tyler.
“This felt unique and distinct, just for me. It was like meeting
an old friend for the first time.” He continued to feel the same
connection to cultural drums whenever he was near them, but
he had few opportunities to learn. Soon, he was living in B.C.
while touring North America and Europe with acclaimed indie
rock bands like Kathryn Calder of The New Pornographers. But
the beat of the family’s drum never left his memory.
It wasn’t until his late 30s that Tyler, who moved to Edmon-
ton in 2015, began to imagine the role of the cultural drum in
his own studio work. During a recording session for the alter-
native folk-rocker Kandle, he played a round-dance beat on a
track and instantly felt as if he was honouring his uncle.
He began integrating Cree rhythms into contemporary
indie rock and, in 2019, released an album with Kris
Harper and Matthew Cardinal as nêhiyawak (pronounced
neh-HEE-oh-wuk, meaning “Cree people”). Anchored by
Tyler’s playing of carved cedar log drums, nipiy was short-
listed for the 2020 Polaris Music Prize and earned the group
a Juno nomination.
For his next project, a solo electronic music album under
the name ASKO (“to
follow” in Cree), Tyler
was inspired to docu-
ment his Cree maternal
family’s protocols for
respectful cultural inter-
action. He spent three
years honouring these
protocols, starting with
a days-long consultation
with his mother, Dr.
38 EDify. SEPTEMBER.25
Linda Young, a residential school survi-
vor, who also serves as his cultural
advisor. Patience was key to his
artistic process, as he consulted with
other knowledge keepers, like his uncle
Dale Awasis and University of Alberta
professor Diana Steinhauer. Tyler
carefully considered every musical
decision, from sampling traditional
drums to seeking permissions to work
with sacred instruments. He followed his
teachings by not bringing hand drums
into venues that served alcohol. He
collaborated with family and cultur-
al experts, translating recordings of his
great-great-grandfather into musical
compositions that respected Indigenous
knowledge transmission.
The self-titled album, released last
year, is a living, breathing document
in which modern electronic sounds
become a vessel for ancient lessons.
When performed live, there’s a visual
component that’s equally important
to the story Tyler is telling: video of
Indigenous dancing is synced to the
music, producing an immersive, multi-sensory audio-visual
experience that bridges past, present and future. Reflecting on
what it taught him, Tyler says, “If I work in a cultural way, if I
exercise patience in learning, caring, and sharing, I take on the
responsibility that affords me the opportunity to share without
appropriating.”
Across North America, a cultural resurgence is reshaping
the landscape of popular music, as Indigenous artists reclaim
long-suppressed languages, traditions and stories. The move-
ment, described by W magazine as a “pop cultural Native
awakening,” is visible in everything from TV and film to fashion
and literature. In music especially, the blending of ancestral
knowledge with current genres has created a fresh, evolving
sound. It reflects how Indigenous creators are reclaiming
space and visibility in pop culture after generations of erasure
and appropriation. It’s about reimagining Indigenous identity
on modern stages, screens and in spaces that once excluded or
misrepresented it.
Edmonton and Alberta have become a quiet powerhouse in
the movement, home to artists blending cultural knowledge
with boundary-pushing sounds. From Juno-winning family
acts like Northern Cree to rising stars like Shawnee Kish,
Celeigh Cardinal and Wyatt C. Louis, the province is rich with
musicians turning personal histories into public declarations
of identity and resistance.
Ella Coyes, who performs as Sister Ray (after The Velvet
Underground song), grew up in Sturgeon County surrounded
by Métis culture and music. The fiddle played a central role in
Coyes’ earliest musical memories, with their father’s playing
and jigging creating a foundation for their understanding of
(left) Marek Tyler
with his uncle Glen