Davey

you know i’m right

This is a little different, so stay with me here.

I’ve decided to embark on a bit of a stretch of my comfort zone.

I play in and write songs for a rock & roll band called The Confusionaires… and much like this blog, when I write, it’s generally about something.

So periodically, I’ll be posting some of these videos of me talking about songs. It’s bound to get into some new subject matter over time, as there are definitely things I write songs about that have not been mentioned here yet… and some that are a direct result of a line of thinking from this blog.

Anyway… I hope you enjoy this.

Also… be gentle, these videos are bound to improve with time so if you find the voice a bit quiet, or you find me to be a little twitchy or nervous, just… pretend I’m flirting with you or something.

Thanks in advance.

output

There are few things as simultaneously satisfying and consuming as making a record, and for those that don’t know… I am perpetually making a record.

I am constantly writing and composing, flushing out ideas, scrapping ideas, ash-canning entire songs, re-writing, changing keys, piecing concepts together, and woodshedding songs. I honestly can’t tell you how long it takes or how many songs I go through… but if I had to guess, I’d say I spend between 12 and 18 months writing 1-2 songs per week in an effort to get 12-15 that I am really happy with.

The best of the best get brought to my band, where the finishing touches are put on them, they’re tightened up, and performed live a handful of times to unsuspecting audiences, and then when there’s enough of them… typically at least a dozen, but as many as 20… we set up microphones and record them.

The recording process; since we have historically done it ourselves, takes another 3-5 hours per song (1-2 evenings per week) before we send it off to get mixed by someone else… a couple months later, we have a final mix. Within a month of that, we have a master, and roughly 3-4 months after that, we have vinyl records and songs you can stream.

I won’t get into the financial part of if, because it doesn’t matter, and we do as much of the tactile work ourselves as we can stomach which saves on costs, but we’ve also done this many times in our various bands before this.

By the time the record we just started tracking is ready for public consumption, some of these songs will be a couple years old. One of these songs is as old as the band… as it just never got recorded because it was never ready. I’ve rewritten the lyrics 3 times over before finally deciding to keep it instrumental, and spent some time building voicings around the original melody.

All that to say this:

Whatever you’re doing is happening in the time it’s supposed to take. The main criteria is that you’re happy with the finished product… and if you’re not, then it’s not done.

Nobody will ever know; or be able to put a monetary value, on your process.

The best art is made because it’s in you to make it.

anywhere else

I got back from a trip to Vancouver recently.

It might be hard to imagine for a person who values music as highly as I do, but I’ve never just gone there for a concert before. Every trip to Vancouver I’ve ever taken since I was 16 years old; with the exception of 1 family Christmas, was to perform… and I’m certain that we were underpaid in almost every instance, but that’s beside the point.

I went to see Drive-by Truckers and Deertick. Both were astounding, but Deertick were particularly surprising. That show made me want to write songs and make rock & roll records and go on tour. I’ve seen a lot of shows… some of them are good and you’re glad you went. Some of them are life affirming and stay with you for a long time. I didn’t have a religious experience, or anything like that… but I did feel the fire in my belly – the fire that was already there – flare up a little bit.

Along with that, Lu and I ran the perimeter of Stanley Park, I bought too many records from too many cool record stores, and we put on around 27,000 steps a day seeing cool shit and eating amazing vegan food and staying in a nice hotel.

As an Albertan, I have to strongly encourage you to get out of Alberta periodically. This place is mega-hard on your soul, particularly if you’re a creative person.

I’m lucky in a lot of ways, not the least of which is that my friends and I can pile into a Ford Explorer, hitch up a trailer full of gear, and roll into towns & cities where people don’t know us personally and we can all commune in a bath of rock & roll guitars and pounding drums, and we can all come away from the experience with our cups filled up. I get to do this in places that don’t know about our day jobs… don’t know our families… they only know what we tell them, and we only know what they tell us. It’s a magical experience where we see people as people… with none of the pretense.

Traveling to Vancouver was a similar experience.
Nobody asked me what I do for a living.
Nobody knew anything about me… I was just a spiritual being having a human experience and I truly enjoyed it.

If you haven’t gotten far enough away from home to feel that for a while… then it’s time.

Today, I am loading up the aforementioned trailer with those friends and driving to Twin Butte, AB to play Soulfest. It’ll be a riot. If you’re going to be there, come say hey!

whatever you want

I have it pretty good.

I don’t take that for granted. I understand that outwardly, I’ve got a really great life. Middle management support role for a big company that works with things I’ve very interested in, a great house, a great family, a killer rock & roll band that people care about… I drive a cool car… I’m in good shape… I’m 43 years old and on zero medications…

I take none of this for granted because I’ve worked very hard to have all of it.

What if it was all gone tomorrow?

I’m no stranger to the notion; or rather, the assumption that “we’re all just a couple paychecks away from homeless” and the privilege-check we’re all constantly called to do.

But I’m really not a couple paychecks away from homeless.

I mean sure, misfortune could befall me and my family. My life could fall apart in biblical fashion the likes of which have only been alluded to in the Book of Job… but in the end I’ve concocted a combination of skill and fortitude that have set me on a track of progress. I have come from nothing and built what I have, and I can start from nothing and build what I have again.

What nobody wants to tell you anymore is that you can do whatever you want.

Nobody will stop you. They might not help you, but it’s pretty unlikely that they’ll get in your way. And this… is how I know I’m not done. I haven’t written my book yet, and there’s always one more rock & roll record in me to make… the only thing I don’t have is a short-cut.

I read somewhere; multiple places, really, that you need to be happy where you are in order to move forward. That used to sound contradictory to me because if I was happy where I was, I would stay in that place… but no, that’s not true. I actually am very happy where I am because where I am is in a constant state of growth and evolution.

I love being in a state of change for the better… and if I can stay in this growth mindset then I will never be in the same spot again, and I am happy with that.

Whatever you want.
You can do whatever you want.

momentary

After a few years of writing this blog, sometimes it feels like I’m just repeating myself. What I’ve found; though, repetition is the stuff this life is built out of.

I talk about living in the moment because it matters, despite the fact that it feels like it distracts from the dream.
Meditation is important, despite the fact that I’ve gotten out of the habit of sitting in silence and meditating, and find pushing my body to it’s physical limits to be quite meditative. It draws me back to the moment, the painful, shitty moment I’m in after 2 hours of running on pavement with sweat in my eyes, no matter where my mind takes me.

But from one moment to another is a completely different experience. This is why it’s so important. If one moment I’m 13km deep into a hot sunday run and the next I’m giving you a giant sweaty hug, you’ll understand the momentary difference.

As much as I love a plan, and as much as I love to dream – and those things do have an important place – you’ll note that it’s a rare occurrence that someone ever has to remind you to daydream. What I do need are reminders to live in the here & now, which means if I’m unloading the dishwasher, I am present in doing so… and if I am walking on-stage with a guitar in front of hundreds of people, I am present in doing so.

As much as it’s about the individual living in the moment, there’s an element of outward respect as well. Those few hundred people watching me on-stage deserve for me to be present. I’ve seen enough musicians take the stage fucked up, or distracted, or just not ‘feeling it’ that night and it’s frustrating to that entire audience of people that are trying to live in that very exciting moment with that performer.

But it’s not just those big moments that matter. The little ones matter just as much, especially when people are depending on you on the smallest scale. Those everyday things we do like cooking, cleaning, driving… the tasks that make it so easy to zone out are so much more important than some musician giving a sub-par performance.

So… be present.
And don’t phone-it-in on stage.

balance

I am always searching for balance.

I have goals to look a certain way, perform to a certain level, run certain distances, eat a certain way, write songs to a certain standard… in amongst working and sleeping and being an attentive adult / father / partner / employee, it doesn’t take much to knock it all off kilter.

So, I have to stop and take stock of where I’m at.

It comes down to what kind of life I want to live.

If I could have everything I wanted, I’d be a Ironman Triathlete who played 250 shows per year to 10,000+ audiences, and have a personal chef, and would train 6 days a week… but it would be a solitary life, surrounded by people and close to noone.

If I trained for an Ironman, I’d have to put my rock & roll band on ice for a while. Any vacation time I had would be spent training. I’d hardly have time for my family because all I’d be doing was training, eating and sleeping.

If I were to chase bigger crowds with my music, I’d likely have to scale back my training, and spend more time at the right parties, socializing, and I’d compromise my health and the quality of my art.

If I lean into my daytime career, I’d likely crater my band, and possibly alienate my family doing so. I wouldn’t train much at all and I’d eat in restaurants and sleep in hotels far too much.

So I try to live my life in the middle… and my life in the middle is pretty great.

I’m 43 years old. I am on 0 medications, and have 0 health complications to be concerned with. I am available to people who need me, including my employer, I have great artistic output with top tier musicians and we do things the way we want them to be done.

All this to say, I am grateful for what I have, and I am happy where I am – because where i am is in a state of progress. I am moving forward in my life and in my art, not backward. I train hard, and I eat like an athlete… but there’s still room in my life for a vegan donuts. I play rock & roll and write songs constantly… but I’m still home for dinner and a dog walk. I work hard, but I’m still available to my family and my friends.

I’m serious.
But I don’t take myself too seriously.

I’ve been trying to find balance for so long that I almost didn’t recognize it when I found it.

in memoriam

I’m at an age now where; as I reflect back on my life, I’ve said goodbye to a lot of people. Rock & Roll is not for the faint of heart, and it’s claimed the life of many a young person.

“Rock & Roll means well, but it can’t help telling young boys lies” – Mike Cooley

In what was probably 2001, I played in a surf-punk band called The Open Wounds. I wandered into S.T.A.R.S. on whyte avenue, a local punk rock venue that was built on the bones of a few other deceased legendary venues, where I met P.R. Dougless. I don’t remember if I showed him a demo or not but he agreed to throw my band on a bill.

Long story short, he took a shining to me. He took me under his wing and I became his little brother in punk rock from that day forward. To this very day, he has paid cash money for every record I’ve ever made… in addition to introducing me to many of the people I’ve now known for a quarter of a century. There have been countless gigs, even more drunken nights… DJ sets… new venues… old venues…

What has been blowing my mind lately is that some of my long time acquaintances have almost the same story as I do… except they’re a couple years older than me, so Doug took them under his wing in 1998 or 1996.

Dougless was literally the pillar of a community. He quite literally held up a corner of the Edmonton music community. He wanted to glory. He only wanted brotherhood, and acceptance, and integrity. He wanted to know we had his back the way he had ours and I can say without doubt that the answer was an emphatic “Fuck Yeah!”

The day before he died he was excitedly texting me about trying to create an opportunity for my band in Eastern Canada… in amongst asking me about the benefits of my vegan way of eating and how it made me feel. He naturally downplayed his health at the time when I asked how he was doing. I guess we all do that.

My last words to him were; in reference to his apology for not trying to help me get out east sooner, “It’s all good brother. Everything happens when it’s supposed to.”

Of course I wish I’d told him I love him.
But I rest knowing that there was no question of whether or not I did.

Today we mourn the loss of P.R. Dougless… Today is his memorial.
And tonight, I’ll be playing one of his favorite songs with my rock & roll brethren, Jon Christopherson from Raygun Cowboys, at our show together at The Starlite Room.

Dougless was excited about Jon and I playing together, and him being there. In his mind it was like getting the band back together… as the three of us would DJ a rockabilly/swing night at S.T.A..R.S. all those years ago.

Salad days.

I miss you Doug.
And I love you. Thanks for everything.