It started on the couch, with another quiet evening at home looking for something to binge watch during the pandemic. When Nasukin (Chief) Jason Louie and his wife Angie landed on the We Are the World documentary, they didn’t know it would spark a cultural revival across the Ktunaxa Nation.
The 1985 film showed some of the biggest musical names — Tina Turner, Bruce Springsteen, Ray Charles — coming together for a single recording session to raise money for famine relief in Africa. But for Louie, it planted a different idea.
“I started sitting up,” he recalled. “And I started thinking, what if we did something like this with our traditional songs?”
Like many Indigenous communities, the Ktunaxa Nation has long faced the quiet erosion of culture — ceremony songs, stories, and language risk vanishing altogether with each passing of a knowledge keeper.
“When they're gone, they take that information, that knowledge, with them. The traditional songs have been on life support for some time,” Louie said. “You have to think outside the box to preserve your culture, your language — your everything.”
So he began to plan a recording session with a group of local singers — just like We Are the World, but with songs passed down through generations. Some were hesitant.
"When I started asking people, some of them just outright said, 'No, we don't do that. We don't record it. It's never been done that way.' I respect the views of some of our older people, but if we don't utilize technology for preservation, it's going to be lost forever," said Louie.
Eventually, he brought together 16 strong voices from across the Ktunaxa Nation — including a member band in Montana — and gathered them in the acoustically rich Lower Kootenay Band Roundhouse. A professional recording team set up microphones, and cameras rolled.
“And what happened was absolutely amazing,” Louie said. “It was so powerful once we all started singing. I had chills.”
The group initially planned to record 10 of the most commonly heard songs in ceremony. But once the singing began, it didn’t stop.
“Somebody would finish, someone else would pick up another one,” Louie said. “We hit 82 songs. And I felt like I’d run a marathon.”
Among those present was Victoria Dekker, whose husband Isaac — a community member and watershed stewardship co-ordinator — has been learning the songs. As a guest, she described the day as deeply moving.
“The experience was really profound and warm,” she said. “The building is so spiritual and comforting, and the acoustics just engulfed you in sound."
She said the session went on for six hours, giving plenty of time to soak in the atmosphere.
“It was amazing and just fascinating, thinking about how long those songs must have been around, how they were passed down through generations,” she said. “You’re witnessing this rare piece of history that is disappearing. I’m just grateful I got to witness it."
When the audio technician was finalizing the recordings, he heard voices singing that hadn’t been present during the session – a possible sign of Ktunaxa ancestors joining in.
"There was something very deeply spiritual, and I'm sure there could be a logical explanation, but these songs are thousands of years old," said Louie.
The recordings have since been distributed on USB drives — more than 100 so far — shared with Ktunaxa member bands across the region. Each drive includes an audio archive of the session, but they are not for public sharing or social media.
“We have a very clear understanding,” Louie said. “Everyone understands that these (songs) are sacred. And it's a good feeling that, so far, nobody has exploited that.”
Legend Logos has supported this cultural revitalization initiative too, offering a small incentive of a $50 gift card to community members who learn a song.
The project also carries a heavy emotional weight for Louie himself who has memorized many of the songs for leading ceremony.
“I have the ability to hear a song and retain it. People say it's a gift, but it can feel like a curse, especially today, when I'm one of very few people that have knowledge of these songs,” he said. “It’s exhausting to carry all of that."
His hope is to pass that gift on — especially to the next generation.
“My grandson is starting to sing,” he said with a smile. “He has no shame. He’ll come over while colouring or something and say, ‘Let’s sing.’ Then he'll go back to playing with his toys. He isn't self-conscious like some adults can be. That gives me hope.”
