Everyone starts somewhere.

Everyone starts somewhere.

As I enter the last week of my first Crowdfunding Campaign, my cup of gratitude is over flippin’ flowin’! I’ve since been reflecting on all of the records I’ve been fortunate to make over the past 22 years. The experience of making records continues to shape my life, teaching me useful lessons and the opportunity to make heart shaped emoji friendships. This first record ‘One Track’ is one you couldn’t pay me to listen to, but I also can’t ignore it. T’was was my first. 

I remember reading an article about an artist who never looked back on past interviews. If he was being honest in the moment giving a response, then that’s all that mattered. If he said something stupid, he grew from it. If he said something awkward, he acknowledged it and was mindful in the future. The point, is that he didn’t regret anything. It was his truth in the moment, and that first album ‘One Track’, was a moment of mine. How did I get there?

High school was ending in Winnipeg, my then girlfriend was heading to Brazil for as year on a student exchange program, and I had the choice to stay put and wait, or choose my own adventure. I used the remaining sum of savings from my stint working in Les Miserables as a child, and sought out a similar travel program. I figured being placed with a family would make for a smooth transition and would also ease finances over the 11 month stay. I was headed to the French countryside, to the quiet hamlet of Mezières sous Lavardin. 

I thought I was there to observe French life, improve my own linguistic skills, and glean different ways to wear a beret. The program thought otherwise, and placed me in a grade 11 classroom, demanding to see report cards. 

Record scratch moment.

(Side note: I’ve never been great at following the ‘program, un-kay’, and through a stroke of dumb luck, I found my loophole.) 

My high school back in Winnipeg had a strict no hat policy. One foot in the door with anything on your head and it was gone. It became a reflex to remove, (though with my follicular volume, some say it’s a crime to keep it hidden). When I went to meet the school principal, as I crossed the threshold of the building, the ol’ hat reflex kicked in, and M. Le Proviseur saw from his office window. Et voilà, we were besties. He gave me carte blanche to come and go as I pleased, hand in whatever homework I wanted (see none) and informed me the regional radio station was in our school and I could participate at my leisure. Did someone say “REGIONAL RADIO?!”

I took advantage of all the freedoms; extended weekend trips throughout Europe, becoming class president, I created the position of school social convener, helped organize the student strike, played lead in the school play, substitute taught English, radio DJ’d and was the local musician/concert promoter. In fact, it was here that I organized the first Holiday show for 300 people. The last two details came together and helped provide optimism during the low points of the year. I was starting to write “songs”, and perform anywhere I could. Following a set in Zurich, I was invited to come to Sweden and be apart of a tv show, but I passed for some reason. I got scared things were moving too fast. I discovered and listened ad naseum to my folk heroes: Bob, Joni and Neil, and got to be front row for my first Dylan concert in Zurich. I sang loud. The Swiss swayed quietly. Bob gave me a smile. My favourite album that year was Bob’s 1966 double record from the Royal Albert Hall. The first act/CD is him playing solo, and in the second he's joined by the Band. I was learning to be an artist. Do what you want. Chart your own path. You’re the only one that will care years from now, so make sure you’re honest and in the moment. I tried to hone my craft. I had many hours of forced solitude staring out into the wheat fields de la Sartre for trial and error; the recipe was right to create. 

Late winter hit and the adults who worked the radio station had become close friends and fans. They encouraged me to record some of my songs at the station using their Sony Mini Disc player (one track) and they would try to mix using very basic jingle making software. We hung microphones from the roof, not for artistic merit, but because we didn’t have stands. I attempted a slide solo with a bottle of Orangina (killed it), and recorded every song I had written to that point, (regardless of quality) demonstrating absolutely zero self restraint. What a pro move. We spent 2 weeks tracking using our unorthodox methods, “released it” (see burnt copies) and clearly set the world on fire. 

The artwork was photographed by one of the DJ’s Loïc, the manufacturing a favour to the station manager Stéphane, and mixing done by Thierry. Agnès and Stéphanie rounded out the circle of trust and support. They knew the project meant something to me and chose to donate their time and effort to bring it to life. Students charitably purchased copies from their French Chinese Canadian exchange student, but who wouldn’t? He needed this. The point was that my community believed in me. I’ll never be able to adequately thank them for setting me off down this road I’ve taken and the life I’ve experienced. I hope one day I can go back and show them I’ve learned at least 4 more chords and say, “Merci”.