Davey

treading lightly

Sometimes it feels like the whole world is walking on eggshells, and perhaps they should be. As we move forward as a society and as a people, we follow an inclination to do better than previous generations, but there’s always a select group of people who feel that things were better before.

This view is one of privilege, but not necessarily current privilege – more likely a place of past privilege that they are longing for. We’ve all heard it before – maybe we’ve even said it before – “Simpler times” when the dollar was worth more, in a time when nobody’s ever heard of autism, or being trans, or peanut allergies, or the climate crisis, or wage inequality, or whatever. Naturally, all of those things existed, but the populus thought it best not to voice their concerns. Everyone who wasn’t directly affected by those things got to be ignorant of those things, and ignorance is bliss, of course.

That’s all fine. Times change, and people change… but people don’t always change at the same rate, and at the current high-speed velocity of new information being blasted toward each of us, I think there’s a level of patience required for those members of previous generations who are not accustomed to this velocity of information.

I’m not speaking directly about ‘wokeness’ or ‘cancel culture’ because I really don’t think those things exist, and if I had my way, I’d never type those words again. I’m also not talking about the political institutions or billionaire villains of a country I don’t live or vote in. I’m speaking about generational differences.

Since everything needs a name, apparently, I am considered an ‘elder millennial’ or a ‘xenial’ which means I am technically a millennial, but share more commonality in my upbringing with Generation X, and I can tell you with 100% certainty that back in the 1990’s when I was a teenager, we were the absolute most accepting and most inclusive people we could possibly imagine. However, by comparison to today’s standards, we would all be considered climate-denying racists, and every last one of us is glad that the very few cell phones available at the time were not capable of taking and sharing video due to the absolutely insane shit that was going on. We did things and said things that wouldn’t fly now, and if there was some documentation of what was said & done back then, we’d all be in trouble.

But those people in the 90’s… they improved. They got better, and they had kids and raised them to be better… and their parents, who were essentially raised in the dark ages – they’re generally better people, too. But they got there (and are still getting there) at a different rate.

All that to say that people do change, and that redemption needs to be available to all of us. So many people have had some ‘viral moment’ saying or doing something that doesn’t represent them at all, but are denied the opportunity to atone for these things now because the audience has both made up their mind, and moved on.

All I can do is encourage people to take part in the human experience; not only as the first person narrative, but as a supporting character in someone else’s story. Listen and ask questions… and understand that we have more in common than we think we do – more in common than uncommon – and that just because someone votes for a different party than you doesn’t mean they’re a hate-filled bigot. Almost nobody is voting out of hate for an entire demographic of people. There’s a myriad of issues that face us all, and hardly any (or none, really) viable options for any of us to choose when it comes to ideal leaders.

We’re all doing our best.
Remember that we’re all doing our best.

service with boundaries

I’m entering a strange and new phase of life, and it’s not so much my own age & maturity but the age and maturity of my parents. We all reach it sooner or later (provided we’re not orphaned or estranged), and it’s a time when our parents need us more than we need them.

I’ve been cryptic with family posts in the past but I don’t see a way around saying exactly who I am talking about this time around, because there’s a certain amount of grief we become willing to take when it comes to mom… grief we wouldn’t take from anyone else. Why? I have no fucking idea, but I feel like the relationship a person has with their mother is easily the most complicated relationship they’ll ever have. It’s universal.

I won’t get into specifics due to the embarrassing nature of some of the things that have been asked, but I will say that a very necessary boundary is being forged as a measure of protecting my own sanity and the sanity of the people under my roof.

The question I keep coming back to is: what is help?

“Can you help me because I can’t reach the item I need from the top shelf of the grocery aisle?” “I need help shoveling snow.” “Can you help me understand an algebra equation?” “Can you help me move?” – all examples of a one-off scenario in which a situation can be improved with a little assistance. These examples are rudimentary, to be sure, but they’re sound because this is the type of help I am able to offer.

I am happy to do an act of service, but as harsh as it sounds, this is where I have to draw the line… because on the other side of that line is being perpetually caught in a tangled web of existence that include being emergency childcare for my niece, emergency roadside assistance for a 10+ year old vehicle, an emergency ATM machine / payday loan officer.

These things might sound like “helping” but they come with a hefty price tag of stress and; if unbridled, can result in my own financial uncertainty, when the real help would be to remove the ‘emergency‘ element, so things can just run smoothly. If I could choose a different life for her, I would, and it would be predictable and calm.. devoid of drama.

All that said, I didn’t come here to complain about my mother today. I can to talk about the preservation of my own mental state and the challenges around that. I’m reminded of the notion I’ve written about in the past – stress, pressure, friction, and time – these are the elements for change, whether you’re turing seeds into flowers, or coal into diamonds, or a 300+ lb man into a tri-athlete (which I’ve done). And the only way through is with structure and discipline.

The seed does turn into a flower through stress, pressure, friction, and time – but it does so with regular watering and feeding, and in the appropriate sized pot. So, then, do I become effective in assisting the people in my life to do their best work… because in this metaphor, I am the flower pot.

I am not the seed, nor the water, and when the flower blooms, I will take no credit for it.

just lucky

I’m aware of my privilege… more and more all the time. In the past few years I’ve managed to reach the age where this whole fragile and flawed system by which we live is set up for me to succeed – at least as much as is possible in the wake of unsustainable financial devastation left for us by our boomer ancestors.

I live in a nice little house in an up-&-coming area of town, I have a partner I scarcely deserve for a myriad of reasons, and a well-mannered and intelligent teenage kid who is turning into a very thoughtful and smart adult. I drive a good vehicle. I have a vintage hobby car and a stable full of excellent guitars. I write rock & roll songs and I record and perform them with some very talented musicians, and I get paid more handsomely than ever before to do that. Sure, I have a day job, but it’s a very good one, where I am treated well and have influence. I supervise some very cool people, and we make each other’s lives easier whenever possible. Things will continue to get better and better.

I guess this is optimism.

As this gets posted, I’m actually in the middle of a 3-day mini-tour of Southern Alberta. We played Calgary on Thursday, and Castle Mountain Ski Resort last night, and today we’re en route to Lethbridge before heading home on Sunday. We’ll be heading home with money in our pockets, and we’ll begin making a new record when we get there.

Once upon a time I fantasized about this life. A recent phone conversation with an old friend reminded me of that… which reminds me, I should call him again.

I’m truly grateful for what I have and where it’s going.
If everything halted in it’s tracks and this is exactly what my life was until I died, I would be content. This is what it is to be happy, I think. I once heard someone say “the only joy you find on the summit of Mount Everest is the joy you bring with you” and I believe this to be true.

To illustrate that point, I deal with a ton of bullshit every day at work, every time I turn around I feel like I’m handing someone else hundreds of dollars, my personal time is precious and fleeting at best. Corporations and family members alike are bleeding me dry and I don’t sleep enough. When something comes up, my early morning routine and my finely tuned diet are the first things to go, which results in me feeling fat and unhealthy during times when I need the opposite to be true. I spend too much time in hotel rooms. I work long hours…

… you get the picture. This is called realism.

Even so, I’m so aware of the great things happening in my life that none of those complaints hold any real weight. I realize this is a choice I’ve made. Happiness is a choice, and reminding ourselves of the positive perspective that we’re allowed to have is a choice.

Realism & Optimism. Why do we think about these words in contrast? Why is the ‘realistic’ view such a negative way of looking at things when the great things we have in our lives can easily be identified as ‘real’?

I don’t think we need to be all pollyanna about everything, necessarily, but the notion that ‘where your treasure is, your heart will also be‘ becomes a pretty strong statement when people constantly dwell on the negative. Our treasure is our focus – so if we focus on the darkness, we can expect our hearts to go dark as well. It’s for this reason that goal-oriented people tend to be magnetic and inspiring.

The time for hibernation and doom-scrolling will be over soon.
We’ll be able to go outside and feel the sun again.

thief of joy

As much as I eschew clickbait, I do still see those absurd headlines attempting to conjure clicks and engagement. The one I happened across just before writing this entry was about how Taylor Swift is the cultural heir (for lack of a better term) to what Bruce Springsteen has cultivated over his decades of writing and performing. I don’t really care what that article says, but I know enough to be able to acknowledge that Springsteen can do no wrong in most older music fans’ eyes, and that Taylor Swift is a polarizing character because she’s seen to have not ‘paid her dues’ yet for some bonkers reason. Hence… the clicks.

Chock it up to chauvinism, generational baggage, or whatever you want in order to justify the old guard’s disdain or distrust of Taylor Swift – but the fact is that this is not how all of this works. It’s not a royal bloodline in the monarchical sense – but proposing it might be a royal bloodline does serve to upset people who might not realize the bullshit factor in these types of comparisons.

Comparison. What a bitch.

Comparison is the thief of joy. It’s been said so many times that it’s almost meaningless when we hear it, but the distraction that comes with comparison can derail so much greatness. The amount of alcohol I’ve ingested, the amount of bad food I’ve eaten, and the amount of drugs I’ve done pale in comparison to the distraction I’ve put in my own way through being concerned with what other people are doing, and what successes other people are seeing from their efforts.

“This peformer is ___ years younger than me”
“That video has ___ more views than mine”
“That band has ___ more people at their shows than me”

… all of it distracts from what it truly important in my life – which is: am I engaging in my purpose?

None of that shit matters.

What I’m doing matters.
But… What I’m doing doesn’t matter to you – or at least it shouldn’t – partly; if not completely, because it brings about a sense of fear, and fear doesn’t live in the present moment… it lives in the future.

That brings about another thought which might seem to come from out of left field, but I think it relates. That is the potential role of A.I. in art and music as the future comes hurtling toward us.

It was recently put to me that with the advent of companies buying up the catalogued works of Bob Dylan, Dee Snider, and other song cafters of the 20th century and the growing ‘threat’ of A.I.’s presence in the arts are linked, and that these catalogues will be fed into A.I. machines for the purpose of creating more Bob Dylan (and others’) records long after the death of artists like him, and that “this is what we’ll be competing with in the future.”

I have to say that if this is remotely true, I won’t be competing.
It won’t be a competition.
If there’s a market for computer generated music, it’s likely going to be in genres of music that are inherently perfect. Recordings that have been engineered to a point of soulless perfection will be under threat of being undercut by machines that can do it faster and cheaper, and that don’t come with the flawed human elements of coping with addiction, trauma, stress, and all the other things that make art a reflection of humanity.

There will be no competition because there will be no comparison. If anything, it’s just as likely that value on human performances – flawed, imperfect performances – will increase, because it is real and relatable… and because as close as these things can get to being authentically human, humans still have a gut instinct that tells them when something is ingenuine, or outright bullshit.

If anything, my skills will be even more specialized as less people are actively doing them live and in-studio.

… there will be no comparison.
And my joy in performing my craft will stay intact.

best years

I’m not sue if it’s because I think a lot, or because I’m approaching what most people consider to be mid-life (though I’m planning on living a long & healthy life, the length of which I shouldn’t be half way through yet) but I lend a bit of thought to when a person might ‘peak.’

Even as I write this, that feels like damning language, but it’s fair to say that once you reach a certain age, you won’t be able to perform to the same level as you once could. Typically this notion is cast upon athletes, which is something I can consider myself now (though not professional by any measure) but as years go by it gets cast over musicians and performers; as well, not being able to sing or perform to the level they could in their ‘prime.’

It’s most startling in athletes though. The thought that someone’s athletic potential in a given sport could come & go before the age of 25 years old (and that’s generous in some sports) is a hard thing to hear for me – someone who is a staunch late-bloomer in a number of ways. To spend the latter 3/4 of a century in the shadow of a mountain you once climbed is a dangerous existence, fraught with high-risk decisions making, if one does not re-examine their sights and focus on a new goal. There are too many cliche examples to mention.

Suffice to say, I couldn’t be happier to have become the late-bloomer I am. Being in my 40s and taking my creative career more seriously than ever has it’s daunting moments, for sure, but it beats the shit out of burning out early. A few years ago, I decided that I’m not finished doing what I do, and quite honestly I’ve been writing my best and most important lyrics ever since, and playing, performing, and composing better than ever – and that’s not even and objective statement. I am more technically proficient and intentional than ever before.

I know that’s a mouthful – but the important part was that I decided to level-up. My history is one of massive and lengthy self-doubt and fear of success before I decided to clean up my act – but as one once so poignantly stated: “If one desires to climb the Ziggurat, one must take the first step.”

So the real question isn’t about the past at all.
The real question to ask is: Are your best years behind you?

Being a first round NHL draft pick at 19 years old, or being a self-medicated & socially lubricated songwriter navigating a local music scene in a medium-sized city is completely irrelevant at the age of 40 years old, because you can’t go back and change it no matter how you feel about it.

You can’t live there.
You can’t live there any more than you can live in the future where you’re a wild & unbridled success… you can picture both the future and the past, and use them to guide your decisions today, but you have to live here in the present.

Only fear can live in the past.
Only doubt can live in the future.
But success and potential, inspiration and discipline – those live here and now.

I can say definitively… My best years are in front of me.

Check out the new podcast I was recently interviewed for! Pillars of Creation is a new podcast dedicated to creators, by creators, for creators, and is definitely worth a like & a follow & a subscribe!

removing the toxins

There’s a pretty good chance you have toxic people in your life. People don’t talk about it much unless it’s particularly bad, but it’s one of a few unanimously shared struggles we have as social creatures. For some of us, we ARE toxic. Most toxic people don’t know it’s them; as after all, we are the protagonist in our own stories.

I’m not sure who gets to decide who’s toxic and who’s not.
The short answer is… I guess I get to. I am; after all, the protagonist in my story.
It doesn’t matter, I guess.

I’m not sure if it was just my experience, but for a while there, the ‘self-help memes’ (if there are such a thing) seemed to bring up thoughts of ‘removing toxic people from your life’ with notes of ‘you don’t need that kind of negativity’ which seemed to coincide with discussions of politics on the Evening News. I could be alone in my observation, or even misremembering – but I’m certain that a very select group of people were encouraging people to hold up the mirror and address our own toxic traits. It’s quite likely that sharing those memes is a toxic trait… I mean, those posts when shared are definitely FOR someone, and if that’s the case then it’s certainly passive-aggressive.

Okay, I’ll cut the shit and get to the point.

I have a particularly toxic person in my family. This person is a drug addict who is active in their addiction, she’s partnered with an addict who is active in his addiction, and she’s a blood relative, whom I’ve removed from my life in all the ways that make sense. If an emergency were to happen, I’d find out about it through familial channels… but that’s it. The holidays were spent without interaction with this person, and although people will ask me how she’s doing, I have no idea and no inclination to find out due to REAL events that actually happened this year.

Maybe I’m the toxic one? Nah… at best, I’m ‘also toxic’ but I doubt that’s the case. Anyway…

As an aside: I don’t hate addicts… I am one. I don’t think we should take away their rights, or lock them up, or deny them safe injection sites. I don’t think they’re a pariah – but I will say there are 2 very distinct ways of talking about these issues: (1) the ‘addicts are people, too’ approach that supports the idea of social services and counseling being made available, and (2) the ‘I live in an area fraught with drug problems, and my livelihood / personal safety / personal property are negatively affected by the presence of these people’ … and I’m happy to say that, YES, you can feel both ways at the same time. I regularly do. That’s a more nuanced conversation for another day, methinks.

Anyway, I don’t think I’m a toxic person, but I’m certain that I have toxic traits. My intolerance and lack of patience for this toxic person that I have ostensibly removed from my life is probably a toxic trait, but I’m willing to contend with that in favor of not allowing outside bullshit forces to permeate the sanctity of my home.

So as I type this up with one of my favorite jazz records serenading me in the background – The Sidewinder, by Lee Morgan, a man who was shot to death by his common law wife in 1972… which is an indicator that he probably had a couple toxic traits of his own.

We’re all out here doing our best.

Maybe contending with all of this is just what being a grown up is.
I guess I’m a fucking grown up.

ALSO: I was recently interviewed as a guest on a new podcast called Pillars of Creation. It was an honour and a really fun conversation. Giving them a like & a follow on their socials is worth it, I assure you. Check my conversation below.

artisan work

I love to create. I think in my heart of hearts I’m a performer first, but my creativity switch is stuck in the ‘on’ position pretty much all the time. We’ll call it a 52/48 split in favor of performing – but I find that the two go hand-in-hand so well and one rarely happens without the other.

Artistically… my band is recording right now. There are obviously huge elements of orchestration and composition that go along with that, but at the same time when the red button is pushed, and the light goes on, we are capturing a performance – and ideally it’s a well curated, well executed performance of an artistic work.

It’s truly my favorite.

Recording is pretty much the only time a band can truly sound the way they were meant to sound in their heads. Any other time, you’re at the mercy of a sound tech who has probably never heard you before. The performance is etched in time, and it starts a new chapter of life for the band – unfortunately for some, it’s the last chapter – but for us, it’s just the next phase.

The live performance is special in that it as much as it happens with frequency, it also only happens once. The subtle nuances that happen from night to night are different, and in that way it’s never quite the same. Between any 2 shows can be a long drive or a short one, a shitty meal or an amazing one, a heated phone call or a happy one, a great sleep or a bad one… no two shows are quite the same and in those differences is artistic variance. It’s what makes it magical… and the goal is to be consistently great, even within those variances.

Both performing and creating are crucial… and it’s prompted the title of this post: “artisan work”

It’s an amazing amount of work to get to this point, but it’s also not work at all. It’s also work that not everyone can do… but it’s not always difficult.

It’s at times like these that excitement sets in, imagining the possibility of what can happen with this recording, and how many live performances will result from it’s release. But before we think too far ahead, we have to acknowledge that we are here in this moment, and that thinking too far ahead doesn’t serve us right now. We have to make important decisions now…

… and the future will have to wait.

ALSO: I was recently interviewed on a new podcast called Pillars of Creation. It was an honour and a really fun conversation. Giving them a like & a follow on their socials is worth it, I assure you. Check my conversation below.