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I think everybody longs to be loved and longs to know that he or she is lovable. And, consequently, the greatest thing that we can do is to help somebody know that they’re loved and capable of loving.

– Fred Rogers

We cannot direct the wind, but we can adjust the sails.

– Dolly Parton

I still find it quite easy to find my way into a child’s imagination. We’re all Peter Pan ourselves in some respects. Everybody should keep some grip on childhood, even as a grownup.

– Tim Curry

I was in the shower this morning, thinking all the random shower thoughts we think, having all the imaginary arguments. Out of the morning mind haze came the YouTube clip of Mister Rogers at the Emmys, accepting a lifetime achievement honour. There’s a standing ovation. Before he’s even said a word, the camera pans to different shots of the glammed out actors, most of them with tears in their eyes. I wept. It was a gentle one, but deep. As someone with a range of intense emotions, I often wonder at how even and kind was Fred Rogers. I imagine there had to have been potentially contentious exchanges while navigating the production of a show that lasted for so long. I picture him handling them with a grace many of us might spend our lives reaching for.

What a week, Dolly Parton and Tim Curry passing on the same day. Two of my favourites. Dolly for her kindness, empathy and songs. I remember watching 9 to 5 as a kid. There wasn’t a time when her music wasn’t on my radar. I love Tim for his personality. And for Frank N. Furter, a role that became iconic only six years after the Stonewall riots, in an era where being different might mean being murdered (as I write this it occurs to me that even today, we still have a long way to go). I have early memories of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. My older brother would take the bus downtown to the Roxy Theatre in Toronto with his mates every weekend to see the film. He’d bring home the tickets and post them, in proper order, on his bedroom wall. I remember being eight and borrowing his Rocky Horror iron on t-shirt, with Riff Raff printed on the back in those early eighties felt letters. We went to visit an aunt who fancied herself a member of high society, when we were anything but. She lived in a posh condo, with all the amenities. While we wandered around the pool and squash courts, she tut-tutted my Mum “Jeannie, how can you let him walk around with that on his back in public?” O, the horror. I’ve thought a lot about Tim and Dolly this week, watched a lot of clips. Losing beautiful people is hard, especially in these days where we continue to feel isolated and anxious while the world burns.

I haven’t written any blog stuff since June. I took a break to focus on a bunch of new songs. I wanted to put all my energy into the consistent flexing of one aspect of writing, to see how it all played out. We often need to write a few stinkers to carve out the keepers. It was great. I’m happy with the new geetar tunes and have written a third piano song, which has been a brand new and amazing outlet.

I also powered down the studio for weeks and weeks. The rewarding warmth of all those winter days and nights in the studio creating the new tracks didn’t translate once the summer weather arrived. I needed to feel the grass under my feet. I’ve been busking a bunch, meeting lots of kind and wacky characters, experiencing the usual connection that I’ve come to count on over the years of performing at street level. There are some live irons in the fire. I don’t feel jazzed about being out late these days, but the call of the club gig beckons. I’ve been out to see more local live music this season than ever. That’s been rewarding socially and psychologically. We need each other. It’s also inspired me to convince the curmudgeon I live with, the one that appears around 7pm when it’s time to get ready to go out, that live shows are where I live and thrive.

With back to school nigh, I’m ready to dive back into the record. The next step is to record keeper vocals. The arrangements turned so well, I understand that the vocals need a deeper investment than ever before. I’ve had difficulty getting the singing done at home. The neighbourhood’s grown noisier since recording Stereophile. In timely fashion, a friend recently mentioned that having someone produce the vocals is the way he always does it. I haven’t worked with a producer since my trip to Nashville back in 2012. I’m hoping to make this happen, so I can focus on delivery and emotion, while someone else handles the pragmatic bits. Artwork is also under way. The shot above is going to be on the back of the record. It was taken one night by my old pal and local artist, Dan Whalen (@danwhalenart), while meeting to take the 72 Pape bus to see our mate’s band play. I love the shot. It’s totally in the moment, totally off the cuff. Just two pals heading out to a show.

At the end of the day, that’s what it’s all about; being with each other, supporting friends, creating community. Bringing it all closer together through shared experience and connection.

As always, thanks for reading.

K. xo

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Hi Friends. Hope you’re all well and warm. At long last, Stereophile is done!!! Please have a listen to the audio below. Also on this page are the credits and story that unfolded while making the record and book. Buy links are below the player. Hope ya dig…

Purchase your copy via PayPal or eTransfer me at kdub@kelvinwetherell.com
It’s $20 for your digital download of the record and physical copy of the book
Canadian residents buying in person (at shows, etc.) please add $2.60 for tax. Total $22.60.
Online purchases are $1.75 to ship anywhere in Canada. Total w/tax and shipping $24.60.
Global shipping fees to be determined according to distance and packaging requirements
Once you’ve placed your order, please email us, along with your address, at kdub@kelvinwetherell.com and we’ll send you your copy of the book. A download link to the record will be sent to your email address.

If you live in Toronto, I might be able to hand deliver the book and give you a hug. It depends on where you live, or if you like hugs.

Thanks so much for your support!

Credits
Kelvin Wetherell – Vox, Acoustic Guitar, Les Paul, Bass, Piano, Organ, Drums, Percussion, String/Vocal Arrangements
Howard Ayee – Bass on Grip The Raven and Dark Horse
Kaleb Hikele – Piano on Kinder Things

Produced, Recorded and Mixed by Kelvin Wetherell
Acoustic Guitars recorded by Kaleb Hikele at The Townhouse
Mastered by Howard Ayee

All Songs Written, Composed and Arranged by Kelvin Wetherell Copyright 2025

The Stereophile Story
On an unseasonably cold and grey day at the end of April, 2022, I pulled round the last corner of an east end townhouse complex, checking each address and looking for the mailbox with the music stickers plastered all over it. After successful location, with acoustic guitar in hand, I knocked. Greeted by friend/studio owner (and fabulous singer/songwriter!) Kaleb Hikele, we navigated the barking of his dear doggo, Bear, and headed down to the basement to get to work. The idea was to record five of my songs with just my acoustic. I didn’t know at the time what the heck I was going to do with them. There was certainly no idea that they’d become part of an eight song, full length record and book. Over two days we succeeded in tracking five songs. I was down with most of what I played, then, in the true fashion of (usually unneeded) songster angst, I thought everything was shite. I needed a break from what I’d tracked.

Enter the studio upgrades. I’d just been turned on to the world of plug ins (digital instruments, recording hardware, etc.). I’d been recording at home for years. My beater of a laptop, eight years old at the time, therefore prehistoric in terms of technology, couldn’t handle the new oomph I was throwing at it. I’d recently reconnected with my old mate, Howard Ayee, who’d produced on of my records back in 2009. It was great to reconnect with him. He’s responsible for my new plug-in-fanboy-geek-out status. He was forever dangling the many new carrots that make modern recording truly awesome. I bought everything he sent me. I also bought a new laptop, which, after six months of agony trying to figure out why it wasn’t recording properly, made me so irate that I shelved the recording for months and spent the summer barefoot and busking at Jimmie Simpson Park here in Toronto. I returned the craptop and swapped it out for a new one. I got it set up and was off again…

I spent 2023 recording in bits, whenever energy or will permitted. Some of my peeps reading this are already aware of my chronic struggles. I’ve been living the effects of a botched hip surgery and was diagnosed with fibromyalgia in early 2023. At the end of that summer, I tore the medial meniscus in my knee and could hardly walk. My personal stars were not aligned and it felt like the universe was giving me the boots over and over. Still, we persist. I kept going, working my day gig and being a present, single Dad and solo householder. I kept up with my live playing and preparation, always wanting to keep my pickin’ and singin’ chops in shape, or “match fit”, as Jimmy Page calls it. 2023 was a great year for gigs. I played a bunch of out of town stuff and made some great friends. I was not much concerned that the progress of the record was not swiftly moving. In November, I decided to start creating the book that would accompany the record.

The written part of Stereophile, affectionately known as Booky, is a collection of lyrics and images that my daughter, Ava, and I created. The first drafts were created in a free, Word-light type program. My old friend, Alexis Campbell, recommended moving the creation of the book over to InDesign. I did so. She also let me use her Adobe suite, without which I couldn’t have made the book. I then spent many days wanting to fire my laptop through the sliding glass doors that lead out to our back garden. Anyone who’s used Adobe in the past can attest to how frustrating their proprietary, weird-ass way of doing things can be. Still, we persist. No laptops were harmed in the making of the book or record. Bit by bit, I was making progress. Through days of pain sometimes so severe I couldn’t think straight, the record and book were happening!

Sleep, eat, parent, work, parent, record, rehearse, repeat. So it went for the next year. The sonic elements of the record were the easy part. I’ve made many records and written many songs. Writing and designing the book were new, as was working with the plugins. These were steep learning curves, happening while I was in full creative singer/songwriter/arranger/producer mode. I loved building the colours around the acoustic spines of the tracks. I worked extensively with strings and choral vocal arrangements, as well as digging in and creating unique sounds out of whatever was available to me, digitally and otherwise. The parts came fluidly. If an idea wasn’t cooking, it was scrapped. I didn’t wrestle with stuff not working. Usually, the parts sang themselves in my head. It was a matter of extracting them and finding the right sound, the one that fit with the track.

Also new to me was mixing a full length record. I’d released a few singles during the pandemic years and beyond. Mixing a full record is a different beast. Another learning curve. I mixed as I went. There was little to do when the tracking was done. I tweaked a few of the acoustic guitars and made some small changes. It was then time to master.

With Howard on board to master the record, we set to work finding the right chain of gear to put the final stitches into the Frankenstein. It was a looooooooooooooooooooong process. I’d always left mastering to others. I was fully involved this time. It meant going back to the songs and massaging the vocals deeper into the sonic landscape of the arrangements. I also had to tweak some of the levels on the instruments to sit better in the tracks. We wrapped the mastering and the end result is a beautiful sounding record. When I was able to take myself out of the recording and listen as just listener and not creator, I was touched. It felt like the singer was in the room with me. The sonic wormhole surrounding the vocals were what I had first envisioned. That coming to pass was a feather in my cap. While mastering, I was working concurrently on finishing the book and getting it printed.

The design of the book was going amazingly. I added a dedication, table of contents, afterword, all the things to make it feel like a proper book. The printing then became an epic situation, due to a ghost in the machine. The first run of books did not look like the proof I signed off on. Something happened in cyberspace that made one of the images look wacky. This required another few weeks of back and forth with printer and Alexis, figuring out what the issue was. It was mad. Finally, out of the murky mist, the final proof was good and off to print we went. I received the first run of books in the middle of February of 2025, which is the same month I’m writing this. With the book and record done, here I am, getting it set up for all of you to read and hear.

The creation of the book was important to me. As I mention in the afterword, I wanted you to have something to hold. Something tactile and real, to compliment and help heal the disconnect of all our modern digital trappings. As a kid I used to love pouring over an album’s liner notes, reading all the details about what went into making it; the names of the band members, the lyrics, the artwork, where it was recorded, and the little tidbits of random info that made you feel like you were on the inside of something.

So, here we are. A new record that I never thought I’d make. My first book, the first of many, I hope. Against the odds, with the help and support of dear family and friends, these creations happened. In hindsight I’m aware of the Herculean effort that went into completing this phase of my artistic life. There were days I wanted to die, not because of any garden variety artistic crisis, but because living with intense chronic pain, along with prolonged use of pharmaceutical painkillers, have a way of taking their toll on a body and being. It’s hard to stay ahead of the black dogs of depression when sitting still hurts. Still, we persist. I made it. It was no small feat. The record and book are beautiful. I hope the songs on the record hit you. Here’s to creativity and connection.


K. xo