Started in 2017, the Indigenous Artist Spotlight series was created to foster greater awareness and understanding of the strength and diversity of Indigenous artist in Canada.
This month, we spoke with Zoon, a multidisciplinary artist from Brokenhead Ojibway Nation working across music, sculpture, and visual art. Zoon blends shoegaze with Indigenous drumming and Ojibway musical influences, a sound known as moccasin gaze, and released their third album, Happy Thought School, in 2026. On November 25, they’ll present a brand-new body of work in Toronto.
Zoon's Links: Website • Instagram
The Rhythm of the Drum
My name is Zoongide’ewin, or Zoon for short. My name carries meanings connected to the rhythm of the drum, the rhythm of the heart, and courage. I’m a multidisciplinary artist working across music, sculpture, and visual art.
My home community is Brokenhead Ojibway Nation, and I also call Winnipeg, Manitoba, home, which is located on Treaty 1 Territory. But I have spent many years in Ontario, where I created the subgenre moccasin gaze, or at least my version of it.
I’d describe the music as hypnotic, atmospheric guitar music that brings together the dreamy, distorted textures of shoegaze with Indigenous drumming and Ojibway musical influences.
My music eventually caught the attention of members of Sonic Youth, Yo La Tengo, and other influential bands that shaped my childhood. Bringing these worlds together allowed me to reconnect with my roots while creating something that felt entirely my own.
Felt Like a Miracle
I’ve been making shoegaze music since high school, but after an almost six year break from music I noticed that the genre hadn’t changed very much. I kept thinking about the possibilities of bringing something new into the genre.
Later, while in recovery, I was asked about my culture, which led me to reconnect with my Indigenous roots. That reconnection changed everything. I began bringing my culture into the music I had always loved, and the combination became a way of expressing who I was. It wasn’t just about creating a new sound; it was about reconnecting with myself and finding a way to move forward.
When I returned to music in 2017, bringing those sounds together felt completely natural to me. My debut LP was originally supposed to come out around that time, but the release was shelved following the passing of Darryl Weeks (prominent Canadian music publicist). Eventually, that material found its way into the world as my debut LP, Bleached Wavves.
It’s hard to look back sometimes because parts of the journey have been difficult. Bleached Wavves came out of a project I was asked to do by a treatment centre and became a turning point in my life. In many ways, that record felt like a miracle because it ultimately gave me a career in music.
Healing, Hypnotic Music
I always felt that powwow music and Loveless by My Bloody Valentine had something in common. Both can be incredibly hypnotic and immersive. They can draw you into a trance-like state where everything else starts to fall away.
When I was in recovery, I experienced a type of therapy called neurofeedback. My understanding of the process was that it worked with the brain’s activity to help regulate the nervous system. That experience made me think about how certain sounds and vibrations can affect the way we feel.
I realized that shoegaze and powwow drumming could create a similar feeling for me, even before I fully understood why. The layers of noise, repetition, and rhythm can create a sense of release and openness. I also think about the role of the drum in Indigenous ceremonies and the ways our traditions connect sound, community, and healing.
In contrast, the singer-songwriter side of shoegaze is incredibly vulnerable. When you take away the layers of distortion, effects, and noise and leave just an acoustic guitar, you’re left with the song itself.
I love that. Sometimes the simplest version of a song can reveal something that gets lost when everything is surrounded by sound. There’s nowhere to hide, and that vulnerability can make the music feel even more beautiful.
We’re Listening to Everything
Kevin Drew has been like a father figure to me. When we first started hanging out and writing music together, he gave me so much advice about life and the music business. When I was struggling, he’d reach out to check on me and make sure I was doing okay.
That kind of support was new to me. I hadn’t experienced that sort of mentorship in music before, especially from male role models. Our connection has been incredibly important to me, and I think it’s something unique.
We share a love for artists like Sonic Youth and Laraaji, so when I’ve played shows alongside Kevin, his audiences have often responded really well to my music. I brought a different kind of energy to those shows, and I noticed how attentive people were. At other shows, I’ve sometimes had audiences talking over my set, but when I played with Kevin, people really listened. I appreciated that more than I can explain.
Indigenous music was banned from the radio for many years, and that history is always in the back of my mind. I’m interested in bringing together all kinds of musical influences to show that we’re here, we’re alive, and we’re listening to everything just like everyone else. We’re taking those influences and expressing them through our own vision.
Indigenous Music Can Move in Any Direction
This music has taken me to places I never imagined I’d go, both geographically and creatively. One unforgettable moment was playing a show in Ireland when Cillian Murphy came out to see us. That completely blew my mind!
A few years ago, I was part of a band with Lee Ranaldo of Sonic Youth called Medicine Singers. We made an incredible album together and performed throughout the United States and Canada. One of my most memorable experiences was playing for around 40,000 people at the Montreal International Jazz Festival. It was incredible to hear the powwow drum alongside Lee’s loud, experimental guitar. Standing there, I felt like people were witnessing something genuinely new.
That performance reminded me that Indigenous music can move in any direction, cross any boundary, and exist in spaces where people might not expect to find it.
In Canada, Indigenous music is often associated with particular genres, such as folk, country, or rap. I think Indigenous artists are sometimes pigeonholed into making music that fits familiar expectations.
When I come into a community to perform, I hope to engage with anyone and everyone. I feel like Indigenous music and artistic expression have been suppressed in so many ways, and I want people to have the opportunity to hear our stories.
I’ve lived a very interesting and vulnerable life, and a lot of that experience finds its way into my work. I hope people can connect with the music regardless of where they come from or what their background is. For me, it’s about creating a space where people can listen, feel something, and connect with one another.
An Exciting New Chapter
My next Ontario performance will be in Toronto on November 25 at the Toronto Arts Council Mayors’ Meeting Gala.
I’ll be presenting a brand-new body of work with my three-piece ensemble. The music brings together my own artistic vision with the creative influence of artists I’ve had the privilege of working with, including Lee Ranaldo, Steve Shelley, Laraaji, James McNew of Yo La Tengo, and members of Broken Social Scene.
It’s an exciting new chapter for me, and I’m looking forward to sharing this music with a new audience in Toronto. ∎