Davey

legacy

I won’t lie… it does feel a bit ‘on the nose’ to write a blog post about Ozzy Osbourne, but I’ve been sitting with this news today and I felt compelled to wax about it.

Not necessarily about Ozzy specifically, though it’d be remiss of me to ignore the fact that if you picked up a musical instrument after the year 1977, you have been either directly or indirectly influenced by Ozzy Osbourne. You might not even like Ozzy, but I promise you that a whole bunch of your musical influences loved him.

But what an incredible legacy. This man; and he obviously wasn’t the only one, worked exceedingly hard at something that nobody really understood until he was approaching middle age, when all of a sudden, you could look back on the dozen or so albums he’d made; both on his own and with Black Sabbath, and conclude that he was both prolific and proficient.

I won’t put myself on Ozzy’s throne, here, but that’s a situation I relate to. A lot of musicians and writers probably do… but as I look back on my own dozen albums or so, and the artistic works I have ahead of me, I know what is to get into my fortieth decade and only now have people starting to put together the notion that I am actually fuckin’ good at this rock & roll thing.

Most of us leave this plane of existence, and all we leave behind are a few belongings and a name. Those of us who are fortunate enough to find our vocation might leave a little more. Life is not to be struggled through so much as it is to be lived with purpose, and it’s that purpose that gives meaning to our struggle.

Ozzy was fortunate in that he actually threw in the towel a couple weeks back. He played his final shows with all of his friends and was sent off… pushed out on the iceberg, so to speak… and for all I know, it was that sudden lack of purpose that put him under. I can’t and won’t speak to the notion that his death was assisted other than to acknowledge that there are rumblings to that effect, but I won’t join in the possible spread of misinformation. The more cynical of us might conclude that; one way or another, Satan called him home at the end of his contract, but I find that more than a bit dismissive.

If a shark stops swimming, it dies.

The same is statistically true for many retirees within a few years of their retirement, uness they find some new way to frame life outside of the career they’ve known their whole lives. Though, 10 days is a short time. I saw Ozzy in the neighborhood of 20 years ago and if you told me it would be his final tour, it would have made sense. He’d lived a life of excess, and been diagnosed with Parkinson’s years ago… so it’s probably more appropriate to attribute his survival to his final performance to sheer willpower.

At any rate, a Rock & Roll Titan has fallen, and I tip my hat to his prowess and his incredible legacy of music and influence. To say that I’m indebted to him and his small army of incredible performers and collaborators would be a gross understatement.

Rest in Power, Prince of Darkness.

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.