The first time I saw Julie Doiron live, I booed her. Not because I wanted to, but because I fell victim to peer pressure. It was my second concert, ever. Miles away from the stage, Doiron plucked her way through her set amidst a chorus of boos and chants of "Hip! Hip! Hip!" coming from every crevice of Toronto's Air Canada Centre. I booed along, convinced that the mere presence of The Tragically Hip would present some sort of dignified truth for a 16 year old. Doiron's patient and quiet approach was no match for the mighty beer swilling masses, but she pressed on anyway, finally garnering a wave of applause when she announced her last song.

Doiron still presses on, and as the gods of irony would have it, I've become a big fan. I've seen her many times since that day, even sharing a few conversations. Never could I admit to her the awful sin I'd committed. Maybe with the release in December of Daniel, Fred & Julie -- over ten years since that Hip show -- I've received a pardon.

Joining forces with Daniel Romano (Attack in Black) and Fred Squire (Shotgun and Jaybird), Daniel, Fred & Julie is a record chalk-full of absolution. Its characters walk the streets in overcoats, stinking of whiskey, and yet Doiron and gang paint their heroes in such a light that not only do you empathize with them, you long to hear more of their struggle.

And its these struggles which stand front and centre on Daniel, Fred & Julie. Delicate fingerpicking and gorgeous three-part harmonies decorate the record, with very little else. Overdubs? Nope -- that might take away from the story of Frankie, and her tale of love, gambling and revenge in "The Gambler and His Bride" Edits? Why bother -- then we might not hear Doiron's croon at its unvarnished finest on "Hallelujah, I'm A Bum" (that one sort of explains itself, but I'm telling you -- what a sweet little ditty).

Aside from two originals penned by Romano, everything else on Daniel, Fred & Julie belongs in the public domain, making this a folk record of the finest pedigree. It was recorded in Squire's Sackville, N.B. garage in a matter of days – in mono.

Quiet as it may be, it speaks with poignancy to Doiron's career. She rests comfortably under the radar of Canadian indie folk, but Daniel, Fred & Julie is a record that ought to further cement her place as a songstress extraordinaire. What’s more, it salutes the honest and remorseful fuck-up in ways that very few albums have. Yes, I believe an apology is most definitely in order now.

Julie Doiron plays the Biltmore Cabaret on Saturday (Jan. 23).