“The greatest loves fall so far down / Nobody hears what’s left of them” (Die Evergreen)

Love manifests itself in all kinds of ways. Singer-songwriter Emm Gryner knows a thing or two about the mysteries of the human heart – her songs dig deep into the sublime heights of how we come together, but also the murky lows of how we can let each other down.

The songs on her latest full-length album, Goddess, are far from your everyday love songs, however. The record’s ten tracks offer up glimmers of wisdom both hard-won and well earned, from the cello-swept title track to icy ballad “Let It Snow” (which first appeared on a homemade CD Gryner sent to fans as a holiday gift several years ago).

Gryner, who has carved out an enviable career completely on her own terms over the past decade long before current music-industry trends sent many artists down an independent path, compiled her newest effort from songs written and recorded over the past five years in her own inimitable way: wherever and whenever, with good friends and on her own. Whatever works for the song, so that each tale can be told in only the way she knows how.

“These songs seemed to hang together well,” Gryner notes. “There are a lot of themes of desolate Canadian winter colliding with that cold feeling in your heart when you feel someone important has deserted you.”

Gryner, who’s known for self-producing and recording most of her releases, recorded the tracks on Goddess over the years in Montreal, Cambridge, and Ontario, but she wasn’t completely flying solo, calling upon some talented pals for arrangements and additional instrumentation. Cellist Dana Feder and violinist Tim Weed add their sweeping strings to several tracks, pedal-steel virtuoso Stew Crookes contributes a rootsy vibe to the otherwise pop-oriented “Leftover Love,” and guitarist Russell Broom and drummer Charles Dumont lend a hand throughout.

Goddess is the sound of an artist who’s come a long way – both artistically and personally. From her earliest beginnings in Toronto’s independent music scene, to leaving a major label behind to start her own Dead Daisy Records, to gigging with David Bowie and being lauded by Bono (the U2 front man name-checked Gryner’s ballad “Almighty Love,” from her 2006 album The Summer of High Hopes, as one of the songs from the past 20 years he wished he’d written), the multiple Juno Award nominee has released 11 full-length albums and established a devoted fanbase all over the world.

“Now that celebrity has lost its luster, I've been able to see what my real motivations are,” Gryner explains. “They are the chance to be creative, the chance to be expressive, and the belief that nothing else inspires like music.”

While the tracks on Goddess showcase Gryner’s knack for indelible melodies, they also bear the hallmark of a writer who has truly come into her own, with lyrics that serve up lessons learned and ruminations by turns wistful and weary. In Gryner’s musical world, poet Rilke shares space with shipwreck Lily Parsons, and the bitter Canadian chill casts its pall over battle-scarred veterans of the romance wars.

“Relationships are everywhere and their beginnings and endings still affect me,” Gryner points out. “The past five years has been an incredible time of self-awareness. Getting my heart screwed on straight. Growing up.”

Part of that journey has included several other pursuits – as if she wasn’t busy enough making her own records and overseeing her indie label, Gryner maintains a successful touring schedule in Ireland, co-hosted the CBC Radio show Under the Covers with fellow songsmith Danny Michel, and even found time to make her big-screen acting debut in the Canadian film One Week, which had its premiere at the Toronto Film Festival last year.

It’s all part of Gryner’s do-it-yourself ethic – while the old music-industry model is being buried, she’s been busy forging ahead.

“The climate has changed so much and to some it can be perceived as a great loss. I see it as liberating,” she adds. “I had pop songs that I deliberately left off the album because I knew they didn't fit. It was such a great feeling to know what belonged on this album. Lately I've been escaping into this world of melancholy Stones and Fiona Apple songs, the odd Cocteau Twins tune, and I just prefer that solace. People need a soft place to fall.”

- Tabassum Siddiqui