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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.

– William Wordsworth

There is some pleasure even in words, when they bring forgetfulness of present miseries.

– Sophocles

I sit down this morning with a head full of brambles, needing to write, to get it out, but wondering how on earth I can put together anything that might in any way serve anything. Maybe it’s okay to just get it out, but one feels compelled to offer something of worth amid the noise.

Wordsworth’s quote above hit me. We are born into this mad, bewildering place, leaving behind our cosmic comfort, to muddle through. With vague remembrances we arrive, the clouds of glory dissipating with each passing moment.  I don’t know anyone who doesn’t feel like they’re stumbling along, figuring it out as we go. His words also hit me because I was riffing on forgetfulness, thinking about a recent experience.

Weeks ago, I headed to the local UPS to get some promo printed for my busking setup. On the community corkboard there, I noticed an ad for a local record shop that was nestled in the laneway across the road. It’s been there for a few years now, but I wouldn’t have known about it had I not seen the leaflet at UPS. Of course, I had to go have a look. They had some great stuff. I’d share the name of the store, but I can’t remember it. Fitting for a blog post about forgetting stuff. After browsing for about a half hour, I decided on two records. The first is an original Freedom Records pressing of David Wilcox’s Out Of The Woods. Not only is this a great record, full of great songs, band grooves and David’s wacky sense of humour, there’s a familial connection. The late Scott Richards was a close mate of my Dad’s and played with him in The Shays, one of the seminal rock ‘n’ roll groups that played Toronto’s Yonge Street strip in the sixties. I grew up knowing him as an uncle. After the band was done and they hung up their black suede ankle boots, Uncle Scott went into the record biz, starting Freedom Records. Wilcox was one of his first signings. The other record I picked up was Bobby Gentry and Glen Campbell, two artists I’m fond of. I thought the two of them together might be smashing. While I held the record in the shop, I had another, more mundane remembrance. I recalled holding this record at another shop, contemplating buying it. I remembered not buying it, and thinking that I’d give it a go this time.

I headed home with my wares. I pulled out the Bobby and Glen record and put it on, all the while feeling something tugging at my sleeve. The songs didn’t grab me. As that dawned on me, I realized that I’d had the same feeling in recent months. I riffled through my LP collection, and there it was, my first copy of Bobby Gentry and Glen Campbell. I was already in a not so great frame of mind that day. Feeling the bottom drop out a bit, I stood in my living room, looking at both copies of a record I didn’t like, purchased months apart from one another. I texted a mate a while later, saying “Not only did I buy the same record twice, I bought the same SHIT record twice!!”

After sleeping on it, I mellowed. It was only after having a bit of space that the hilarity of the situation hit me. And to be fair to Bobby and Glen, I’ve come to see the record(s) like a book you buy that you don’t connect with, but that, years later, you pull off the shelf, crack the cover, and realize that it was just a matter of time before you and the book were aligned.

As to the Sophocles quote, there is always welcome forgetfulness in words. And for the workers in song, there is also forgetfulness in music. My perpetual comfort and connection in music continue. After penning this draft, I will listen to the final mixes to the two tracks for the new record that have keeper vocals on them. The Maycomb Trial and I Thought are their names. They sound amazing. On Monday, I will head back up the country to Grey Roots Audio to continue tracking the vocals. I’ve an idea for the cover image of the record, inspired by the drive up there and a bit of family history. I’ll head up a bit early to take some pics.

I’m off to have a listen, then off into the day to pick up some new gear that I’ve been geeking out on for weeks.

As always, thanks for reading.

K. xo

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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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“Fak, these blankets smell nasty.”

– Me

I bunked off work early yesterday with much excitement. Last week I’d tracked vocals for Tattoo, the last song I need to add anything to. It was a bust. The intro is the most sensitive as far as needing quiet to record. The recording of vox and acoustic guitar for this record have been anything but quiet. We live only feet away from the streetcar and main street traffic ripping by, to say nothing of the orange men on the DeGrassi Street train bridge, whacking away at the the Ontario Line all hours of the day. I was able to make the rest of the vocal tracks happen, along with traffic noise and life sometimes audible on the vocal tracks, but Tattoo needed some real quiet.

I moved my vocal mic into the anteroom outside of our bathroom and reran the studio leads accordingly. I then headed off to Canadian Tire and picked up some moving blankets, at a friend’s recommendation, to help buffer the noise. I got home and excitedly hung the blankets and got my MacGyver vocal booth cooking. I noticed that the blankets were a bit stinky. I thought it was because they were just out of the package. After a special afternoon visit from a friend, I had some dins, went for my usual night walk around the east end and arrived back home, not sure if I’d record then, or spend the night kicking back and wait until today, when I was fresh with Saturday’s promise, to lay this final track down. The latter won. With the lights down low, I went slack and took in all the proper British crime drama that my inert, self-flagellating self could handle.

I woke this morning with my lungs and sinuses on fire. Our place is not that big and is open concept. The whole place bore the funky smell of yesterday’s newly opened blankets. I checked the material label for contents. Turns out some sod thought it was a good idea to put propylene in the blankets. I’d heard of this chemical before, but didn’t know much about it. Turns out it’s shite and should not be huffed in. Small wonder, on the heels of lifelong asthma and two recent, back to back respiratory infections, that I felt like crap after sleeping with these olfactorily strange bedfellows.

A quick shower and some brekkie, then off to return the offenders. I’m at the local now, having a coffee and feeling good about getting the Tattoo vox done. I’ll go old school and hang up some blankets and go for it. When the recording is done, I’m planning some studio upgrades. I’ll add the acoustic treatment to the list and get something dope cooking for future vox and acoustic geetar recordings. It’ll be crucial, as I’m planning for the next round of recordings to be live, off the floor solo voice and acoustic.

In the meantime, I’d like to share the premaster of The Pass, which is the first track on the record. Some of you have already heard it and have been in touch with your praise, which makes it all worth it for me. Thanks so much for that.

Hope ya dig.

The Pass

K. xo

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“Never make a decision when you need to pee.”

– Leonard Cohen, Beautiful Losers

My back feels broken, my shoulders like crags of rock, my orbs are sore and red, my right arm feels like it’s telescoped from using the mouse, I’m irritable, I haven’t been the most patient Dad, the smallest inconvenience results in a reaction not at all on par with the inconvenience itself. In short, I feel like a bit of a wretched prick…and intensely alive and awake.

Making Stereophile, my new record and book, has been so many things. I’ve run the gamut of emotions, from despair to the highest elation. Little victories and many kicks to the nuts. I’m going to write more about the entirety of the experience when the record is done.

Currently, I’m in mix mode. This is my first attempt at mixing my own full length. I’ve released a handful of singles over the last few years. Mixing a standalone track is a different beast than getting a collection together. I usually mix as I go. When I finished the vocal tracks, I thought I was pretty much done with the mixes. Not so. As with each phase of the project, I’ve been learning on the fly. I’ve a old friend and mentor in Howard Ayee, whose experience dates back to the golden age of recording, the 1970s. I say the golden age, but we’re in a bit of a renaissance now. Technology now allows us to get analogue warmth with the convenience of digital editing. Howard’s directed me on how the greats did it back in the day, in the context of the gear available to us today.

This latest phase of mixing the songs to get them all ready for Howard to master sees me working, in particular, on the strength of where the vocals sit in the wormhole of the mix. The last week has been an immersion in the finer points of how the pros do it. While I grumbled at the thought of yet another learning curve, it’s been worth it.

There have been many days and nights of sitting at the console, having to pee. I’m not sure how many decisions I’ve made while nature called. Probably a bunch. Sorry, Len. Hopefully they haven’t been made in vain.

I can’t wait to share the record with you.


K. xo