Published Works


October 4, 2015


Back in June, I ditched my apartment, job and a lot of clutter to move into a van named Flo and hit the road on tour. Fast forward four months, and here I sit at a friend’s kitchen table in Prince George, feeling like I never left. I left Prince George with the East Coast in my crosshairs, and on the voyage to Halifax, Nova Scotia and back, Flo and I saw 20,412 kilometres roll by. She didn’t so much as whimper under all that labour, let alone falter. What a noble steed she is. However, she doesn’t hold the heat in too well.

Now that I am back in a rather Northern climate, I find myself retreating to friends’ couches and keeping Flo parked more often than not. Why do I feel guilty? Humans are certainly strange, in our humanizing of and attachment to inanimate objects. I embrace the strangeness though, and hope to take her out for a last camping weekend of the year, while these Fall colors are lighting up.

While there was a lot of time spent alone, pondering and observing, this tour was also strewn with many great people, and new friendships and acquaintances that I feel lucky to have established. I can honestly say that I left every town I spent time in thinking “I’ll miss those people”. Oh, to be all the places at once, to partake in the jam sessions, card games, glasses of wine, dancing and bonfires that I know I am missing out on.

Over the 34 shows I played abroad, the stages ranged from back corners of coffee shops to dive bar stages with dogs roaming about, to fully-equipped rooms with perfect lighting and amazing sound technicians. Set times ranged from 15 minutes to three hours, in towns with as few as 55 people to cities with as many as six million. Landscapes ranged from flat, vast canola fields, to white-sand Atlantic beaches, to the cradle of the rugged Rocky Mountains. I feel fortunate to have experienced such a diversity of situations and scenes, this tour.

Now to tackle Winter without going stir-crazy.


August 29, 2015


Last night I had the pleasure of playing a show at The Port Grocer, a cafe/pub/grocery store in Port Medway, Nova Scotia. It is in a beautiful centenarian building which also houses the local post office, art gallery and yoga studio. I stayed in an apartment that they have upstairs next to the yoga studio and awoke this morning to the smell of fresh baking and the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen. Today I will check out the local beach before I hit the road, and, according to The Port Grocer’s sweet owner, Annabelle, all I have to do to get there is “walk across the graveyard over there and head down the hill”. What a great way to spend my last day in the maritimes.

PEOPLE HERE ARE SO DAMN NICE IT’S SURREAL. The maritimes truly lived up to their reputation as strangers came out of the wood work, every single place I went, to give me an encouraging smile and offer their help along my journey. I leave this area of the country feeling physically and mentally renewed, and downright spoiled.

Today is the day where I turn around and start heading back the way that I came, and this point of every tour is always bittersweet. Knowing that I’ve left the majority of the gigs behind me as I criss-cross Westward back to British Columbia, the tour’s end is coming as slowly as a freight train, and Winter plans have yet to be made. I’ve been on the road for over two months now, and with less than a month to go, I already feel nostalgic about the weeks past.

I look forward to spending the next few weeks chasing Autumn across Ontario and stopping to play some great gigs along the way, while I hatch a plan for the coming Winter.


August 5, 2015


There are many modes of thought that happen when you drive over 9,000 km by yourself. The music goes by the wayside for hours at a time as I ponder past things, current worries and future prospects. Sometimes I find myself rambling out lyrics to songs I haven’t written yet, or pondering the plight of Pluto and the insignificance of our definition of the darling little rock. Pluto does what it does, regardless of how we define it – what a badass, and how nice for it to be beyond the influence of human beings. Current events are heavy on the mind these days, and I am ever glad to be in a time and place where I can show appreciation for and hopefully further music as an art form, and meet like minded people along the way. It is not a lucrative career choice, by any means. It requires a thick skin but a tender heart, which can be a difficult balance to maintain. It requires maintenance of peace and clarity of mind through harrowing and uncomfortable experiences, and it requires an insane amount of energy. And I love it.

I have been criss-crossing the minor and major highways of Canada for six weeks now, and tomorrow will be my twentieth show, in Maitland, Nova Scotia. There was something very freeing about hitting the New Brunswick border the day before last. Like it was the beginning of a new chapter on this tour.

Flo seems to be holding up well, despite having almost lost her tailpipe on the bumpy streets of Peterborough, Ontario. She is a comfortable and sturdy steed, and my hope is that if I treat her with care, she’ll let me take her another eight or ten thousand kilometres back to BC. She is loved by the locals of the places that I play, and people seem to appreciate the delicate nuttiness that is involved with wrangling such a machine down the narrow, twisted, half-dirt highways of rural New Brunswick, or through the slam-into-your-side crosswinds of Manitoba on the Trans-Canada.

I do miss my friends and family back home, but find great reward in all the new friends I’ve made along the way. The kindness of strangers is alive and well in Canada, whether it’s a family inviting me to their home for a full on eggs-and-bacon breakfast, or another band hooking me up with contacts for more gigs and a good place to park for the night. The assholes really are few and far in between.

This next leg of the tour will be interesting and ever challenging, as my bank account dwindles and Flo demands her next meal. I embrace the challenges and look forward to what tomorrow brings.


June 19, 2015


At the beginning of this month, I made one of my dreams come true: I bought a tour van and started living in it! I liquidated almost all of my worldly possessions and left the Spider Den for good, with a nostalgic tear in my eye. I love being mobile, and I am enamoured with the road life, so to switch to this lifestyle kind of fits like a glove. The only possession I passed off with a little hesitance was my beloved gold Ford Taurus station wagon, Gilda. What a chariot she was. But alas, I do not need two vehicles, so I’ve committed full time to Flo, my van. It’s been a great first few weeks with her, she definitely feels more and more like home as I adjust her cabin to meet my needs. With the release of my EP, Songs From the Spider Den Volume One, is the close of the chapter of The Spider Den, and I look forward to writing the next one on Highway One during my travels across Canada this Summer.


May 9, 2015


So I’ve lived in this little basement suite for the past year, and it’s been the place that I play, write and record music. It’s super cute, right downtown, and infested with spiders. So many spiders. Initially, I would smash dead any spider that caught my eye, but eventually I just started to feel like an asshole. A couple months in, I made peace with the spiders and it’s been harmonious ever since. They do laps around my pedal board when I play and don’t crowd me when I sleep. All good. I now affectionately refer to my suite as the Spider Den, and this is where my new EP was written and recorded, hence the title “Songs From the Spider Den, Volume One” (now available for listening and to download). The funding from sales of the EP will help fuel an epically long tour that I’ve just started booking, so if you like it put a ring on it. Or something like that.