Davey

rock & roll

One of the things about blogs that’s great is that I can throw down an opinion and nobody realllly gets to say a thing about it. People are welcomed to not like it, and/or not even read it, and it doesn’t phase me either way, because for me, the writing is the prize, and that often happens weeks before anyone reads what I’ve written. I’ve gotten into some abstract spiritual things in the past, and today is no different, really.

Rock & Roll.

Rock & roll, as much as it’s kind of a specific thing, is also not. It with a bunch of rebellious kids playing loud & fast music and racing hot rods and as much as it’s been packaged and sold back to us, and diluted a little bit each time, there are people who still dig deep into the back pages of what it really is and was and was supposed to become, and who truly embody the swagger and the spirit that was forged in the fires of Hell decades ago. These rock&rollers… their numbers are incredibly low. Lower than you think. They dispense with the slickness of the repackaging and leave that to the engineer, producers, and marketing teams who in-turn try to shoehorn these square pegs into round holes… and it kinda works, but in the end, the art and the artist win against the marketing teams.

See? Abstract. I told you.

Let’s start at the beginning – and no, we’re not going to start with Elvis Presley or Ike Turner or Sam Phillips, or even Buddy Holly. We’re going to start with Jerry Lee Lewis.

Jerry Lee was an absolute motherfucker. he was a phenomenal piano player whose skill is often overlooked and overshadowed by his short-lived and career-destroying marriage to his underaged 2nd cousin. He did his very own thing right until the very end, in spite of most of his performance career being in country music. If ever there was a performer who was unapologetically himself, who flipped the bird to the haters and the fakers right until the day he died, it was Jerry Lee Lewis.

Lemmy Kilmister, singer and bass player for Motorhead, and prompter of my personal motto: “If you think you’re too old to rock & roll then you are” built a reputation on excess of everything – most of all, volume. He wrote, recorded and toured relentlessly kicking off every show with “We are Motorhead and we play Rock & Roll” – an avid fan of early rock & roll by the likes of Chuck Berry and The Beatles, whom he preferred over the Rolling Stones as they were suburban rich kids who didn’t embody ‘the real thing’ in his mind. His defense of the true essence of rock & roll was unwavering as he openly criticised hair metal and nu-metal, and backed up his talk with 23 studio albums and 16 live albums – all after the age of 30.

Iggy Pop. Icon and artist, has released 27 studio albums – some of which are debatably unlistenable – starting with one of the most influential bands ‘The Stooges’ who; by his own account, likely played to less people in their years as a band than currently cite them as an influence. His honesty around the struggle to get The Stooges off the ground, his tumultuous friendship with David Bowie, his time in a mental institution due to his heroin addiction, and his open admission that he’s worked a number of jobs including as a real estate agent in order to continue to release music and art without compromising his artistic integrity, understanding that half-assing his vision is not an option. He’s the only one still alive as I write this, and he released one of his best albums “Every Loser” at the age of 75 in 2023… kicking off the whole record with an absolute pounder that opens with the lyric “I’ve got a dick & 2 balls and that’s more than you all.”

These are 3 examples, and I’m sure people would like me to talk about Dave Grohl or Jack White but in all honesty, they are too young and arguably too business-minded for anyone to really be able to say they “lived it till the end” or some such shit, because it’s not the end for them. There’s still plenty of time for them to water down what they’re doing, and maybe they already have.

I hope that when I am all done on this planet, that people can look back on my body of work and surmise that I did it exactly how it was in me to do. I’m sure many people already don’t like what I’m doing, but I really don’t give a fuck, because they cannot deny that I am doing it with intention, and skillfully, the way it’s in me to do. Maybe they’ll come around and maybe they won’t, but in the end I believe I will be satisfied with that I’ve left behind.

keep pushing

The last little while has been a veritable firehose of creativity coming at me, or through me, or however it comes out. I feel like I am part antenna, plucking poetic metaphors from the sky, while simultaneously spitting out verse and peeling off chord patterns and riffs like they’re going to rot if I don’t get them contained.

It’s both inspiring and perplexing.

When records are made, there’s often a feeling of dread and doubt looming beneath the skin, perpetually asking questions like “what if this isn’t good enough?” and “what if you never make another record?” and I know this to be true because I’ve heard other songsmiths say it out loud, but the past few records I’ve made haven’t been like that at all. I know for a fact that I’ll make more and I have a dozen professional releases behind me to illustrate how that happens, but lately I’ve been feeling like the recording(s) that my band is about to start work on are actually really important.

There’s nothing “right now” about these songs, as far as subject matter. On the contrary, I find that records tend to be a marker in time – sort of a “this is what it was like that year” rather than something that affixes itself to a time & place and becomes irrelevant with the changing times. (By that token, if you want to know what my life felt like in 2010-2012 was like, take a listen to the Fuzz Kings releases that came out in 2013 & 2014. If you want them on vinyl, I’ll be happy to furnish you with them.)

Anyway, I have no idea what ‘really important’ even means. Will it propel me forward as an artist? I certainly hope so… I can’t imagine it not doing so, really. Will it top charts? influence media? challenge the status quo? I am certain that I have no idea. “Important” doesn’t always mean successful, and nothing is guaranteed in this life and in this industry. And I know as well as anyone that sometimes people don’t find your record until it’s 10 years old… maybe older.

I don’t think it’s happenstance that I’m posting this as I encroach on 2 years clean & sober. October 22nd, 2019 I had my last drink (in excellent company, mind you). A couple weeks prior to that I was pulling over on Highway 2 to throw up into the ditch multiple times on my way back from a music conference. I’m not here to tell anyone to drink or not drink, but I can tell you that in my case, it’s resulted in being much more present in my performances, much more present in my songwriting, and much more present in my interactions with people. It’s interesting that it’s also the anniversary of this blog, and the anniversary of the day I moved into my house… all happening in different years, and unintentionally.

What I do know is that this is what I am supposed to be doing right now, and this is the frame of mind I am supposed to be in. We can talk about destiny, or the illusion of free will if you like, but all I know is that it feels really good to be right where I am supposed to be.

I cant wait to share my art with you.

thanks a lot

This weekend is Canadian Thanksgiving, a holiday that is a mixed bag of emotion for most people, particularly Indigenous folks. I won’t speak to that in great detail other than to say that I acknowledge their grievances against the Europeans that horned in on this land several hundred years ago, though I am grateful to be here, personally.

It’s also a hard time for families, and as someone who has chosen not to maintain contact with a sibling, I understand that from some people’s perspective I am part of the problem. I don’t hold it against anyone if they’re upset with me, and I hope they realize that my job as a parent and the head of my own household, is to stop the bullshit at my front door, and provide a safe environment to grow and rest. I’ve done that, and will continue to do so.

Maybe you get it.

Maybe you don’t get it – Maybe you are the ostracized one, frustrated with your family’s lack of empathy, or sympathy. Chances are pretty good that if you’re reading this, you’re ultimately doing okay, since accessing blogs takes a certain amount of privilege. Maybe you’ve had Thanksgiving dinner at the Herb Jamieson before, or perhaps you’re looking forward to a Big Mac Combo in a parking lot by yourself on this festive weekend.

I’ve done both. I promise you, it’s a temporary vocation.

One thing I can tell you is that I’m grateful for the shit-heeled experiences I’ve had – many of which I caused, some of which were done to me. I’ve been extended some of the greatest and most meaningful hospitality when my life was scraping the bottom.

I’m also grateful that I can provide this home to the people in it, and the people who visit it. I remember what it’s like to not have these things available to me. So, to the people who’ve reached out to me when I needed it more than they possibly could have known, I sincerely hope you are repaid 10x over.

And to those who I can help, I hope I do it justice.
I hope I don’t miss the opportunity.

… PS: If you can have thanksgiving without harming any animals out of some misplaced sense of tradition, or due to a social contract, please do.

a tragic loss

I guess this is how I process things. Forgive me if this is a bit free-formed, because although by the time anyone reads this, the sour news I’m about to write about will be common knowledge in the circles where it’s important. For some, this will be old news.

I’m still processing this I guess, but my boss, mentor, and guy I most want to be like when I grow up, Doug Elash, passed away a couple weeks ago.

Doug was a bomb-ass bass player, the coolest guy you’d ever meet, and an inspiring character at work and on-stage. I talked to him almost every day. Even today there were things I wanted to call him about that I just couldn’t and that fucking sucks.

After spending my whole day on the phone, distracted by having to break this news to people all over the prairies, I finally get to sit down with my own grief and frustration around the situation.

It’s messy and sad. I’m proud I got to work along side him, and I’m proud that he saw potential in me, and put me in the leadership position I’m in now.

Seriously the best dude.
Way too young to be peacin’ out of this plain.

Sigh.

When I’m faced with these things, I write.
I’ve been faced with these things before and I’ll be faced with these things again, and I won’t be able to attend the funeral… so I guess I get to have this space to share.

When I first found out, the message that was placed on me as the news washed over me was that life won’t wait for you to get off your ass and live it. I am by no means saying that Doug lived in any regrettably safe way – this message was for ME, not for him – I don’t even think it was from him, but nonetheless I feel it deep in my chest and as I was driving home from Saskatoon when I got the call with this news, I felt it grow. The message was followed by a song – a song handed to me on a silver platter – 3 verses and a chorus that I couldn’t get out fast enough, so I talk-to-texted them to myself and when I was done I hit send.

What’s strange is that is wasn’t a sad song or a particularly heartfelt song. It was kinda dumb, and fun rock & roll song that tells a fictional story – not unlike Jerry Reed’s ‘Guitar Man’ or something Chuck Berry would have penned 70 years ago. It comes out the way I talk and it’s a harmless, fun, nonsense story that touches lightly on the same ‘life wont wait’ theme, but as silly as it might seem if & when it comes out, it’s kinda important to me… and it’s even got a dumb title that’ll no doubt kind it’s way to a bumper sticker or a t-shirt.

It’ll be forever dedicated to Doug, who touched so many people’s lives for the good, was always super up-beat, who wasn’t afraid to take the long way around a story, and who will be sorely missed.

Thanks is a gross understatement, but regardless, thanks for everything, Doug.
Much love.

grown up

I’ve spent a lot of my life in the bottom half – and if you know what that means, then you have likely spent a little time there. Maybe you’re there right now. I’ve always been ‘okay’ in the sense that I’ve been able to keep a roof over our heads… but I’ve kinda always needed a little help.

Needing a little help comes with the territory of historically broke-ass musicians. We tend to live a little closer to the wire than most people are comfortable with, primarily in sacrifice to our art. This is especially prevalent with the big stuff… like purchasing a vehicle.

I’ve made mention of some vehicular obstacles over the past few months, and they are persisting – but the realization that we’ve been making due with a vehicle that – love it as I may – is not particularly well-suited to our needs. It’s a small pickup truck that’s not a comfortable ride when you need to put a 3rd adult-sized person in there, and after 16 years of parenting, there are 3 adult sized people in my house… as well as a 145 lb dog. I also play in a rock & roll band, and have need to move equipment pretty frequently these days… so it’s all added up to a vehicle purchase. We’d intended to address this in early 2020 after The Confusionaires second album was released… but a lil’ pandemic came along.

All that to say… the time has come.

So when it came time to do this deal, it was kinda freaky to be able to do it on my own… like a grown up. I suppose I became a grown up a few years ago when we bought our house without any help from our folks, but it has sunk in even more so now. I now own a vehicle capable of doing everything I need a vehicle to do.

I wondered how it would feel. Sometimes with these things, after all is said & done you just feel dread – but really I feel a sense of freedom despite the impending payments that must be made. I’ve doubled down, and bet on myself and on my music in the process of doing this and I’m ultimately setting myself up for success.

Who would’ve thought…?

one shitty thing

I’m pretty good when I have a plan. I think most of us are, and I think the best way to proceed with a plan is to know that plans change – most often due to unforeseen circumstances, but occasionally due to personal realizations.

As much as I ultimately have my life together, there are always a few things that cause us to question the certainty of the outcome. I have a pretty cushy job at this point in my life and it honestly allows me to pursue more artistic endeavors than I’ve ever been able to before. I’ve been granted a certain amount of financial freedom and I am able to commit time to projects that I was never able to commit to before – not because I work less hours but because of when my working hours occur. I live in a nice house and I have a beautify girlfriend, an amazing daughter, a great dog, a cool old project car, more nice guitars than most people deserve, and the ability to write and perform my own music at a scale greater than ever before in my life.

I’m not bragging – I needed to write that in order to put some perspective on things. I have a tendency to overlook these things when one shitty thing happens, and it’s difficult for me to see that one shitty thing for what it is… ONE shitty thing. I’m at a point where I need to plan more for the future… my twilight years, as it were, and what that looks like once my daughter goes off to conquer her future.

One shitty thing is a temporary problems, of course. It’s hardly worth mentioning, especially since another shitty thing will beset me later and I’ll have forgotten all about the current one. But nonetheless, that one shitty thing seems to be inhibiting how things go 10-15 years from now.

So among the periodic singular shitty things, I; or rather, we, ponder questions like: Where will we live? And how? And what plans need to be laid now in order to make that come to fruition? Will I still want to do what I am doing now?

There’s a delicate balance that should be struck in order to secure the kind of life I will want to live later. It’s a conundrum, because 10-15 years ago I was a completely different person than I am right now. How am I to make plans for such an old man? And what of his partner? We’ve grown together over the past 13 years and I can only assume we will continue with that trend – but how am I supposed to know how they’ll want to spend their time years from now…?

Yes… years from now when this one shitty thing barely registers as a memory, let alone an obstacle that prevented a fruitful life.

It’s going to be fine, isn’t it?

*** this is not in reference to my boss and mentor’s passing. That will get it’s own entry later.

the new year

Maybe this just happens when you’re getting older and nobody told me about it, but over the years I’ve come to notice that the way I see the year and the way others see the year seems to be a bit different.

I’m sure I’ve written about how for me, the year feels like it starts in the fall with the return to a previously abandoned (for the summer) routine. It’s as though the work starts with the harvest, rather than the seeding. I tend to snap back into shape with things as the kids start their school year. My workout changes from an outdoor-centric regimen to an indoor one, even though it might seem a little premature (I think my autumn seasonal allergies have a say in that), I often rework my diet and revise my fitness meal plan, start writing substantially more songs and poetry, I get up earlier… and by the time new years’ rolls around and everyone’s talking about how the coming 12 months will be better or different, I’ve already laid the groundwork for it.

What’s more interesting, aside from generally tracking my behavior is specialized tracking of my behavior. I’ve come to learn that specific dates seem to hold significance (and no, I’m not into astrology, but feel free to hit me with your knowledge). For example, August 30th is the anniversary of the day my beloved puppy came home 4 years ago. 14 years ago to the day is the when my (also-beloved) 1962 Ford Fairlane 500 came home. Another example is October 22nd, which is not only the day my mother was born, and not only the day we moved into our house, but also the date of the last alcoholic beverage I drank. Obviously none of this was intentional, but is interesting to me.

I can recount the amazing things of the past 12 months, as well as the challenges, but really I’m looking forward. A new Confusionaires record is on the horizon, as is a budding relationship with a booking agent who is as excited about us as we are about him, and a couple other side-hustle things have been booked that will certainly help things along.

It’s not lost on me that the coming year will be challenging.
It’s not lost on me that the holiday season will chew me up and spit me out like it always does, and that people in my life and no longer in my life will have a more challenging and potentially devastating year than me, just as some will have a more successful year than me.

I just hope I’m able to help when needed… and I hope it’s actually helpful when I do it.