Tag: blog

new year

I talk about this every year, and have managed to avoid it so far… but now it’s happening. September is the beginning of the year. At least it’s always felt like that, since the Edmonton Public School system set forward the notion that the fall; historically a season of death, is the beginning of the school year. That means July & August are essentially the end of the year in the same way that Saturday and Sunday are the end of the week.

So in the fall, it’s often time to start nesting; in that, we need to prepare for a harsh Canadian winter.

Obviously preparing for winter doesn’t mean what it once meant. Squirrels are gathering food for winter, Geese are flying south, and I am working on a new workout plan for the cold months that includes a Swimming, Cycling, Running, and lifting weights. I’m giving myself 6 days to play with because that’s what I’m currently doing, but I will need to ensure I get all my muscle groups covered in 5 days because I often have weekend obligations.

It goes beyond gym rat status, though.

I’m beginning to put the structure around another writing and composing project that will likely not see the light of day for a few years… but that’s fine. Doing the thing IS the reward, whereas completing the thing means having to find a new thing, the hunt for which can sometimes be stressful and sad.

There are songs to write and a car to work on, of course, but that’s where it gets sticky. If I pile too much on and struggle to get to all of it then I risk being disappointed with all the things I didn’t accomplish rather than focusing on what I did accomplish. That might sound insane to you… but the prairie winter is a hard and unforgiving bitch goddess that actively tries to kill us, and vitamin D deficiency is a real thing that messes with your brain. Season Affectiveness Disorder is a real thing, even when you’re on top of the world, there are still blue days.

So that’s what I’m muddling through as I try to soak up every ray of sunshine possible for the next handful of weeks.

I’ll likely be indoors by Halloween.
Thanksgiving if I’m lucky… the irony of which is not lost on me.

Anyway… it is beautiful out, and everything is dying around us.
Enjoy!

This evening I’m in Red Deer, Alberta, playing at D2 Bar & Stage with Forbidden Dimension and The Offsailors. Minors are welcome at this show.

manifest

I have a full life, and I truly love my full life. At the risk of bragging, I have a family that consists of a very supportive girlfriend and a teenage daughter that wants to spend time with me. If you have a teenage daughter, you know that’s rare. I have an amazing dog that teaches me life’s most simple and important lessons every day… I have a fantastic job that doesn’t interfere with my art-life… and my art life is growing constantly.

There is no part of my life that actively interferes with any other part of my life and if that’s not balance, then I don’t know what is. I realize that I have manifested this; or in a more traditional sense, I built it.

The word manifest; itself, comes from two root words:
Manus – the latin noun for ‘hand’
Festus – which comes from the latin adjective ‘infestus’ which is the root for words like ‘infestation’ and ‘festival’

… so it more or less translates to hand party… or ‘to put a lot of your own hands into something.’ You cannot really manifest anything by sitting around and wishing for it… you have to put thought into action.

That’s the long way around… but it means: I wanted this and I created it.

This was made all to clear to me on a recent phone call with an old friend I don’t see anywhere near enough, where he reminded me of a conversation we’d had in our early 20s about what we wanted our future to be. We’d both fantasized about perfecting our artistic crafts in a humble way, being shit-hot writers and performers who lived covertly normal lives. Essentially being a big deal to a niche market, so we could have modestly nice homes surrounded by good neighbors who had no idea who we really were. A secret identity of sorts.

He spent a few minutes pointing out to me that I have exactly that life – with a few variables augmented slightly – but still, it’s a conversation I won’t soon forget that has filled me with gratitude.

So although this life is full, and occasionally it exhausts me… it was put this way with thoughtful intention and I am extremely grateful for it.

a plan

Sometimes it takes a minute to unhitch the load of things I take with me everywhere I go. The stress of my family, the stress of my job, the pressure I put on myself to write, record, and perform music, my body dysmorphia… but there are times and places when I am able to check all that junk at the door and just be present and do what I came to do.

Generally, I have a pretty clear mind as I head into most situations. I’ve gotten pretty good at worrying about work when I’m at work, and worrying about working out when I’m working out, and worrying about music when it’s time for that… but those pressures are always there, even when I’m not acknowledging them.

But I’m learning how to check that stuff at the door on occasion and it’s really enriched my life in a big way.

What I’m realizing now is that I need a place for everything (and everything in it’s place) and that primarily pertains to my calendar. 6 weekly training days are designated, 2 evenings of recording new music, travel days for work, travel days for my main band, time with my family… it’s all in there.

Sure, plans change from time to time… but it’s a lot easier to change a plan if you have a plan to change, as opposed to not having a plan and having everything fall apart on you.

All that to say… I’m living an amazing life full of love and creativity. I spend time with amazing people. I accomplish amazing things. I travel to beautiful places and entertain wonderful audiences… and everyone that needs a piece of me seems to get the appropriate amount. I’m sure some people would like a little more… but I’m certain that if they had more of me, they’d send it back.

I’ve read up on stoicism a bunch over the past few years, and I’ve in so doing, I’ve managed to put into practice the notion of not worrying about things I cannot control. For me, this is paramount to a balanced life, because there are so very many things I cannot control… including, but not limited to:
– other people’s expectations and/or opinions
– other people’s artistic output.

The Roosevelt-attributed quote ‘comparison is the thief of joy‘ rings and reverberates off the inner walls of my skull a lot lately, and it’s such an important thing for an artist to remember.

I’m truly grateful for the opportunities afforded me and I hope there are more coming, and that eventually I can provide people with opportunities as well.

milestones

I don’t know if this is all part of the human experience or if it’s some sort of songwriter / poet struggle but lately I’m pretty taken with the notion that the story we’re all telling never really ends.

That can be as depressing as you want it to be… but by my calculation, life is just as short as it is long. We’re all likely to be working day-in and day-out on something, and if we’re truly lucky then it’ll be something that matters to us on a spiritual level – but at no point can we expect anyone else to really care about it the way we care about it.

I write songs. I write songs and compose music with intensity and hunger, as if I’m going to write the most important song ever. And the truth of the matter is that I’ve written the most important song ever many times. Every song I’ve ever written is important and I’m going to be writing songs until I die.

I belabor every step of the process… from writing and composing to performing… from performing to recording… the mixing and mastering and duplication of the recording… back to performing and reinterpreting the recorded works in hopes that people will take a copy home with them… and back to writing and composing…

I’m fortunate, that in this day and age… right here in 2025, there are people who care about what I am doing artistically, but I would be remiss to assume they care more than I do. I’ve received many accolades and words of encouragement and as much as I appreciate the encouragement and am flattered by the kind words, these words do something different than you might think. Sure, my ego likes the boost – but really this encouragement sends me deeper and deeper into poetry and storytelling, because it affirms that I’m on the right path.

And this path is fraught with suffering.

This is what I’ve learned how to do, and if you’ve read this and understood it, then this is probably what you’ve learned how to do as well… suffer.

I’ve found it in my fitness journey as well. My progress on the running trail, or the mountain biking trail, or in the weight room at the gym… progress comes from a level of suffering that is just beyond where you’ve already been. I love the feeling of going to the limits of what my body can and ultimately seeing god when I get there, and knowing that the next time I see god it will be just beyond where I saw god last. Writing and composing is the same… when the work is finished, and I can step back and wonder how this piece of art came through me, because it is bigger than me.

And it is a cycle that never ends.
And I truly love it.

output

I’ve mentioned this before, and I’m bound to mention it again… but in my spare time, or rather, our spare time, we three Confusionaires are working on another record.

We live in exciting times, and in exciting times, time passes very quickly. We are already behind schedule on what my ideal timeline is… we started later than I’d wanted to, and now we’re recording songs in our ‘spare’ (ha!) time, gathering once or twice a week in our rehearsal studio to attain live-off-the-floor versions of songs we’ve been working on and playing live. This ‘spare’ time pops up once or twice a week between out of town shows, and at the end of long work days.

That said… we work pretty quickly. We can typically get a song done (recorded to completion and edited) in a couple evenings, so one song per week assuming we can get together twice that week. Birthdays, anniversaries, condo board meetings pop up every so often and gum up the works… but this is our process.

It’s difficult for me not to put a deadline on these things… I’ve issued deadlines that have been sorely missed but if I’m being realistic with myself it’s because I want it to be done.
Done.
And fantastic.
Done and fantastic takes time.

So I wrestle… belabouring lyrical choices and harmony vocal parts right up until the time they’re recorded, but also writing new songs that won’t even make it onto this album (but I have to get these things out and down on the page because they’re COMING OUT OF ME whether I like it or not, and this is a particularly fruitful season.

Yes, there are seasons to these things and I feel like it’s all hitting me at once right now, in the most amazing and glorious way. It’s truly exhausting and it’s actually caused me to almost completely forget to post to this blog – something I haven’t forgotten to do in this blog’s entire 3 years. But when it dies down, I assure you it’ll be very frustrating, and I’ll probably take to this blog to register my feelings about it throughout the world wide web. I assume some bolt of lightning will hit me and tell me what to do in that off-season but that’s ultimately a problem for future-Davey.

But for now… I make hay while the sun shines.
And despite the so-so weather forecast the Canadian prairies are getting these days… THIS sun is shining quite a bit.

environment

I think about the environment a lot this time of year. Not just THE environment, but MY environment, and not just THIS time of year, but ALL times of year… I just think about it more affectionately this time of year because it’s not actively trying to kill me at this time.

I’ve said it in this blog before, and although I cannot credit myself with saying it first, I will repeat it: The biggest error the human race ever made was to view itself separate from nature. A grievance I can take up with the church quite easily, but not something I can fix, especially by complaining about it.

I get into Edmonton’s river valley almost every day in the warm months. There’s a path down into it less than a mile from my house, and between dog walks, recreational running, and mountain biking, I can say I am down there between 4 and 7 days per week… and even when I travel for work, most major Canadian cities have a river or two flowing through them, and I go find those, too.

In Edmonton, you don’t have to go far into the valley to feel like you’ve left the city, and if you’re down there pushing your own body’s boundaries, it’s not hard to find god – and by that I mean the infinite wisdom of the universe more so than the variety of idols adorning every temple under the sun.

I’ve dabbled with meditation; of course, but for my money, getting into nature and losing yourself is the best way. I like to get my heart rate into it’s beloved Zone 2 and see what god has for me – often by way of a message in a podcast or a new song, because my environment includes a level of privileged technology, though I wish I weren’t so married to my headphones. They have a tendency to distract me just as much as they inspire me and I’d like to be more of an antennae for creativity than a consumer of it. I suppose it can be both… and now that I think of it, it is both.

I don’t ride my bike with headphones. That’s as dangerous as it is uncomfortable. And I’ve been blessed with many songs, visions, and ideas on those rides.

I receive so much from my environment, and from the people and creatures that share it with me. It’s not enough to know that we are made up of the same cosmic stuff, but once we remove the man-made concepts of space and time, we are literally THE SAME stuff, all of history existing at one time, all creatures with no space between them.

If we looked at eachother with that in mind, I can’t help but think that none of us would find reason to kill another, be it for resources or religious differences.

This line of thinking reminds me why I am vegan.
Not that I need a reminder.

I’m not sure what this blog entry is about.
Perhaps it’s a reminder to myself what my role is here.
Maybe this entry has inspired something in its readers.

I hope I never find out.

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.