Ron Sexsmith’s Doubting Days

Ron Sexsmith was on his way to a wedding Wednesday as he discussed his new album, “Whereabouts,” which sounds like the work of a man worried that he is on his way to a divorce.

The groom was the Canadian singer-songwriter’s bass player, Jim Vesely, who was to be hitched in a public garden in San Francisco--a stop on a tour that brings Sexsmith, Vesely and drummer-cellist Don Kerr to the Coach House on Saturday.

The interview ended with birds twittering in the background over Sexsmith’s cell phone as he apologized that he had to go. Others in the wedding party were signaling that the ceremony would soon begin.

Vesely probably knows the pitfalls of sustaining a long-term, committed relationship, Sexsmith said: He and his bride, who had flown in from Toronto where the band is based, already have two kids. But if the new husband--or anybody else--needs any reminders, he just has to listen to the songs he is playing every night.

Sexsmith hadn’t made up his mind what song to sing during the ceremony. He joked that if he chose one of his own, it would be “Doomed,” an emotional low point on “Whereabouts,” in which he wonders whether his own relationship was “doomed from the start.”

More likely, though, he would deliver the expected ultra-romantic ballad--maybe “True Love Ways” by Buddy Holly, one of the first rockers to capture him as a child, or “The Way Love Used to Be” by the Kinks’ Ray Davies, one of his chief inspirations as a vignette-oriented songwriter.

Sexsmith said that the germ, if not the entire substance, of the songs on “Whereabouts” came from his own self-scrutiny during a difficult 1998, in which seven months of touring put a strain on his 15-year relationship (he and his wife, Jocelyne, have two children, ages 14 and 9).

Then his five months at home were clouded by career uncertainties as he wondered whether his restructured record label, Interscope, would even release “Whereabouts,” or simply drop him.

“I found myself depressed a lot of the time last year,” Sexsmith said. His wife “finds this record a kind of difficult album to listen to. I don’t want my songs to get so personal it’s like a diary, a claustrophobic sort of thing. I wasn’t trying to write these little messages, although even she thinks that sometimes. She definitely had a lot of questions about certain songs.”

What’s notable about the songs are their quiet tenacity. Singing in a lovely, distinctive and gentle voice that flutters like a melancholy muted trumpet, Sexsmith may fall into dejection over the relationship’s prospects, but he never places blame and never surrenders, holding out hope that with enough time, enough trying, things can work out.

“We’re still together, and I’d like to think we’ll always be together,” he said.

Whether they’ll have much of a financial cushion is another matter.

Sexsmith’s three albums since 1996 have been hailed by Elvis Costello, who has taken him under wing as an opening act for several tours. Sarah McLachlan, Sexsmith said, told interviewers that if Lilith Fair were not for female headliners only, he would be the first male singer-songwriter invited.

But critical praise and kind words from famous peers haven’t translated into the kind of album sales that major labels want to see. Sexsmith had hopes for a royalty-generating jackpot last year when Rod Stewart recorded his ballad “Secret Heart.” But the album, “When We Were the New Boys,” stiffed, at least by Stewart’s platinum-plus standard.

Sexsmith said that a supportive writer at his hometown Toronto Star even ran a sort of focus group on him recently, playing his music for people who hadn’t heard him in hopes of figuring out why his music doesn’t sell. The verdict, he said, was that the songs were OK, but they tended to be put off by his voice.

“The article was a bit of a downer, because it was almost asking for sympathy, which I don’t really need,” Sexsmith said. “A lot of artists are struggling to get off the ground, and a lot of songwriters who sell more than me don’t have the profile I have. People who do like it are into it in a big way. They’re not coming just to hear one [hit] song.”

Sexsmith doesn’t lack for high-powered consultants of his own, although their advice might seem confusing: Costello, with whom he shares a taste for complex, undulating melodies, “always thinks I’m a little low-key for my own good,” Sexsmith said.

Mitchell Froom, the producer of all three albums, has emphasized ballads, saying that’s his strength as a singer. “Whereabouts” picks up the tempo a bit, with several moderate rockers and the most elaborate and textured production Sexsmith has received.

Sexsmith himself sounds ambivalent. He presented Froom with a number of rocking-out possibilities on his first album, but “Mitchell felt I couldn’t quite pull that off.”

In concert, he has belted out versions of Stevie Wonder’s “I Was Made to Love Her,” and the Who’s rocking “The Seeker.” But he talks of how fellow Canadians Gordon Lightfoot and Leonard Cohen have made enduring marks by remaining quietly introspective.

In a world where strongly stated certitude usually sweeps the field commercially, Sexsmith’s quiet songs of complex, unsettled passages in life may not be what the mass public will ever buy. But those who do respond to it know they are on to something special.

* Ron Sexsmith, Peter Stuart and Trespassers William play Saturday at the Coach House, 33157 Camino Capistrano, San Juan Capistrano. 8 p.m. $10-$12. (949) 496-8930.