DNA MEDIA GROUP

This summer I lost my friend and musical hero Paul Macleod. He was not a close friend of mine, but the times I did get to spend with him are all cherished treasures. My best friend Adam Coe and I would make the trip from Sarnia to his neck of the woods. We'd show up for poker games and to Monday nights at Jimmy Jazz for his solo gig. It was always something we both looked forward to.

Adam Coe and I loved Paul and I would like to write about my experience knowing him on both of our behalf. He truly helped shape both of our lives.

Adam and I both lived in Waterloo for a few years around the time Paul released Close and Play.  Our mutual friend Cory Williams introduced us. Seeing Paul play was indescribable, words can’t contain it. I thought he was wickedly funny between songs and the songs themselves were so full of emotion. He could cram a lot feelings into one performance.

My friendship with him started off by making a nuisance of myself, being at any gig of his I could go to. Eventually I started emailing him my weird music industry questions. He was generous with his time. Paul shared whatever experiences he thought were relevant, giving me a lot of encouragement. One night he had me out to the circus room and let me chew his ear off. His arm was in a sling. He had apparently cut a dog in half with his racing bicycle and had broken his collarbone. It was a grim story, one he told with a straight face, but it was a like a bit or a comedy routine. He was never boring. One on one or in front of a crowd he was entertaining, witty and had such emotional intelligence. That night I was feeling bad about my musical lot in life and he was reassuring. He told me my music had heart and that I reminded him of Nick Drake. I can continue to be ignored as a musician for the rest of my life, content knowing that Paul thought of me that way.

When Adam Coe and I both moved back to Sarnia we kept in touch. If the three of us didn’t have a gig we’d sometimes get together. Again, I pestered Paul about the in’s and out’s of the Canadian music industry. I also asked if I could ever open up for him. He graciously let me open a show at C’est What? and again for the Hibakusha at the Boathouse. When I was looking for a label and he introduced me to Andy Maize. Around 2005 I was working with Toronto producer Jeff Wolpert. Paul gave me the chance to open so I could showcase for Andy and Jeff. It exhilarating and anxiety inducing. Why did I get to be this guy’s friend? Since his passing I have read so many similar experiences. His generosity to other musicians was uplifting. Paul helped the people in his orbit and he didn't need to.

I have a recording of Paul and I performing together in his apartment. People would drop off stack of books, like an eccentric home decorating project. Books and cats. I had asked him to help me finish a few songs for my new record. He agreed and I drove up with the idea to stay for the night and work. When I arrived he had just found out he was booked for Doogies in Guelph with the Hibakusha. We got into a car and drove up about an hour after I showed up. I wish Adam Coe had been with me, it was such a great show. I got to see Paul do a solo open for his prog group. Three sets of songs I loved and lived.

I had learned Close and Play, new songs that would later appear on Bright Eyes Fade and some Hibakusha material. I was playing more of his music than my own or anyone else’s. We both drank prodigiously that night. After the set we hung out in the basement of the club for a while and they packed us up some beer to take back to the apartment. The writing session started around 2am and lasted a few hours. We worked on two songs and then I slept on his floor. He woke me up far too early with a far too chipper attitude. I was ten years his junior and a wreck. He insisted on Thai food and we walked down to King street. Matt Osbourne was someone on both our minds as we walked. He was a local singer songwriter who had passed away in 2004. Paul dispensed wisdom that was perfect in it’s timelines and relevance. I was in the middle of making an expensive record with a great producer.  Desperately trying to get record label attention. I was full of ambition, full of myself and my career. He said that “life isn't about your next project or your next gig. It’s about waking up in the morning.” I’ll never forget it, I’ve tried to live a more balanced life since. His words kept me here, close to my family and friends.  After we got back from the food we started making demos. The sound of our voices together is something I hold close. Those recordings and that time were both so special.

When I finished my record Paul and Mark Macintyre (of the Hibaskusha) agreed to support me for some shows. The band also included my good friends Adam Coe and Ben Rollo. We did a CD release here in Sarnia and a show in Toronto. For the Toronto show another musical hero of mine, Kurt Swinghammer, opened for us. Better than Christmas, better than ten Christmases.

I’ve learned a lot about Paul since his passing. I learned that he loved the Skydiggers before he ever joined them. And how the Rheostatics embraced him, giving him encouragement early in his career. He gave that to me, by being in my little band for a few shows. It was like having Paul McCartney backing you up. But even that reads wrong to me. I would be tempted to compare Paul to Jeff Buckley but it doesn’t fit either. If he is anything like those two artists it is in the sense that he was singular and wholly his own, brilliant. I’ll never get over Paul’s death because he shaped so much of how I live. I aspire to live on my own terms with fierce determination like he did. I want to be funny and “a good hang”. He had a McCartney/Buckley level talent. But he also wrote from a place that keeps me interested no matter how many times I run through one of his songs. I play them relentlessly because I guess I’m foolish enough to think it might get me closer to the mystery.

Paul Macleod should be remembered as one of the greatest Canadian musicians of all time.  It could never be said that another performer was better. His singing, playing ability and writing were all beyond that. There is no better where he was operating at, only different. What made him such a great side-man or session musician was that he never overplayed. He understood that music was about emotion, not acumen, despite having so much skill.

His songs will provide me with endless fascination. They encompass the entire range of emotion and they came from the most honest source. He was a more realized artist than so many of us. When someone dedicates their brilliance to the arts, it is a gift. What he gave the world only he could give and I think he deserved more recognition for it.

I developed serious anxiety in my mid 20’s. Caused in part by living with tinnitus, which is a constant ringing in the ears. Paul suffered from schizophrenia and he was, again, open and honest with me about it. I thought that in the face of it he lived heroically. He was also capable of gallows humor. Before he went to the hospital he told me that they had to reconfigure his meds so he “didn’t kill and eat a drifter.” I cried like a little boy when I heard he died. Knowing he was out there struggling in defiance of the obstacles he faced made my own that much easier. He was brave and he made something of the time he had.

About 16 months ago I got an email out of the blue. Paul had some new songs he wanted me to co-produce. Over the years I stopped pursuing the elusive record deal. I've focused everything on building up my recording business here in Sarnia. Paul taught me that community was more important than being in “the thick of it” in Toronto. I gave him an open invitation to come record. It was a modest payback for the endless amount of wisdom, encouragement and time he had given me. I was incredibly excited that he wanted to take me up on my offer. He sent me some demos and we agreed to start with “Free.” He thought that perhaps Martin Tielli would contribute. Big Wreck guitarist Brian Doherty lives around the corner from me. I was hoping I could introduce them and see if Brian could add something. It would have been the most exciting thing I had ever worked on. We emailed back and forth and got to the point where we were going to start booking dates. Then he disappeared. I never heard from him again. The last message I sent I told him I loved him and that I hoped he was ok and that if he ever needed anything to just call or write. I did love him, and he could have lived at my place for that matter, let alone record here, if he needed to.

My mom recalls a time when she had a business conference in Kitchener she stopped in to see him at the Boathouse. Paul recognized her and gave her a big hug and thanked her for letting him stay at her place after my CD release. She told him how much he meant to her and to me. We told him emphatically and often how much we loved him. Afterwards Mom recalled a girl approached her an exclaimed “YOU know Paul Macleod?!”

I have a few friends in Sarnia who love Paul’s music. A good friend  of mine, Dave Evans, lived in Guelph when Paul and Danny Michel did their duo gig. The night we heard the news we got together and had a good cry. But I don’t really know many people in his life. My grief has largely been my own and my life is forever changed. To Adam Coe and I he was like an older brother you didn’t see often but to whom you aspired to be like. At shows Paul started covering one of Adam’s songs. It was the biggest possible deal imaginable to both of us.

Shortly after the news came I took some time off for myself. I decided to tackle Free. I loaded up his demo and started singing along. I worked on it alone. It was a little chance to connect with him musically one last time. I ripped off a Hawksley Workman drum groove from “Listen Mary.” I played the bass like I thought Cory Williams might have. I studied the way Paul approached harmonies and how he would support the main guitar on his records. I was sad a lot. I had to re-cut the vocal, because I can imitate Paul too well, it sounded ridiculous and I had to put the song away. Until, at least, I could try to find a way to sound like me. That’s the problem, I have many influences, I have always had my own voice. But Paul’s influence on the way I sing and play guitar cannot be overstated. I wear his influence proudly and I know it shows.

I was living in Toronto in 2008 working at a studio and also juggling recording gigs in Sarnia. I found out Paul was playing in Oakville and decided to make it down for the show. It was like a strip mall kind of bar and it wasn’t packed which was great because I could hear everything really well. After the last set we smoked cigarettes out front. As usual, Paul entertained everyone who had followed him out. He was joking,  something to do with guitar chords. I said "with you it's always Cm9", I think we were talking about the fact Paul used such great chord voicings. Anyway, he laughed and I remember that because making him laugh was a triumph. He was always making us laugh. We hugged and I left. We kept sporadic contact for a decade that seemed for me to go by in a heartbeat, but I didn’t get to see him again. I was really looking forward to catching up with him at my place. I wanted to show off my studio to this guy I looked up to so much. I wanted to insert myself into his story and to be able to say I helped him finish one of his amazing songs.

On writing blog posts:

I'm often reminded by Natali that I should offer up more blog posts. Once every six months “I” listen to her sensible advice. Maybe it takes so long because starting every other sentence with I makes me uncomfortable. Making music comes very naturally to me, promoting it or my studio does not. Ideally my songwriting would take off commercially in some far away place that I would never have to visit. Since I've never visited the internet by that literal definition, you'd think I’d be a little more active. My excuse is that I've been busy.

40 Albums:

I've been forty albums busy. Sometime during 2015 I must have started on my fortieth full length record. I don’t know for sure. One day I decided to count up how many I had done and I was shocked to see I had even gone over.

My first recording studio experience was helping my Dad put up studs in a little back room at the family home in 1991. I hadn’t started playing music. Getting to work on over forty records is a result of family support. But my parents were doing gigs as a duo while I was in utero, and my Dad was recording digitally before anyone else in the city, so it’s in my blood.

For all intents and purposes I had checked out of formal education by the time I was in grade seven. I spent a lot of that year mocking up album cover designs with the school copier. I wrote down song titles hoping music would follow. It has and I'm very grateful. Beyond grateful, I don’t think I could be of much use doing anything else.

I know making records isn't important in the scale of things, but for me personally it is the most important thing in the world. I experience music on recordings. Long before I figured out that I had anxiety, I was always bailing on concerts or class trips to musicals. Too much stress. Besides, records are amazing. The first year I was really introduced to The Beatles, I wanted to live in the space somewhere behind the speakers. That magical space where it was all coming from. I'm still trying.

Punch Drunk:

Punch Drunk is a new song and video Natali and I collaborated on. In it I'm trying to put together these moments of my life as a Sarnia musician and sum it up. It’s about the places I've played, the people music has brought into my life. It’s also about the duality of my life here. I get to do what I was absolutely love to do. Running a studio for the last decade here had been everything I've ever wanted from life. Getting that, as with any ambition, comes with a price.

For myself, it is the worry of a difficult business-model in a small market. I scrape by though.

Punch Drunk references the dissonance between my yearly financial struggle and my complete joy as a committed record maker. That joy is enhanced by my life here in downtown Sarnia. I love the community here and I love seeing how much these few blocks have changed since my first gig here in 1995. I would rather be here than Toronto or Nashville or anywhere.

The Future:

I find myself unable to break a lot of habits. I am habitually showing my songwriter friends what I'm currently working on. It’s so exciting, listening to works in progress. Music and the people who make it are endlessly fascinating to me. I feel no fatigue. I'm just starting to get the hang of this stuff, and there is so much to explore. Recorded music is truly endless.

I have to mention, as I contemplate the future of my little career in music, that DNA Media is losing someone integral to the Sarnia music scene. My Dad, Dave Miner, is moving to a little village near North Bay. We have a lot of family up there and he's looking forward to doing a lot of fishing and spending time with relatives.

Forgive me a moment but I would like to declare that for Sarnia music, he is as an important figure as Kim Mitchell or any of our hard-working local educators and performers. When digital recording was only slightly possible, he was there and alone in the early exploration of the medium. He owned a one-car garage studio that became my first informal summer job. Dad and I cranked out a few recordings together out of that amazing space in the 90′s. How many recordings did he make possible? I think the cultural heritage of our communities recorded output is so important. But then again, I would, wouldn't I?

Getting Something Done - Adam Miner

This August 7th DNA Media is hosting Laura Kreviazuk’s recent artwork on our gallery wall.  

To observe a skilled painter in the throes of her creation is to watch the absurdity of our culture’s double-speak manifested before one’s eyes. We maligns artists as minimally productive for the same reason we obscure any unpalatable truth. Verity gets inverted to protect those who don’t do and where the upending begins is with the arts.

Parents who aspire for their children a middle class life lecture their youth. Be wary of the unindustrious musician and painter. They're doomed to lives of austerity. Never mind that real wages in North America froze in the 1970’s. Paper-pushing and looking busy has replaced most real and honest employment. Self-appointed adults still loudly insist that you realize success through placation of the 1%. They hope in secret that there’s room for another middle-manager somewhere in the maze.

I live in that rare city that still does something; although we can’t decide if we feel guilty about it or not. Petrochemical refinement is still productivity of a kind and fuels everything people want to do. In Sarnia most people do something tangible. What the people don’t seem comfortable doing, yet, is engaging the arts community. But there have been vibrations of tremendous underground progress.

For three years I have attended this cities Artwalk fundraiser event “Art Attack”. Artists come by invitation to work on a new piece from beginning to end in front of the gala’s attendees. Then they auction off the work in support of our summer art festival. There are also musicians who perform, drinks to be had and rare chance to watch a mass of art produced in real time.

Laura Kreviazuk has been at all three events I have attended. I was instantly keen on her work. Every year it flourished under the time constraint while she demonstrated a level of commitment I admired. Her canvas always went from nothing to a beautiful something in under three hours. Whoever walked away with her work is lucky indeed. The competition to own rivals her race to finish.

DNA Media invited Kreviazuk to paint in front of a camera to promote the August 7th showing. I spent an evening trying to calculate how many questions I could get away with asking her as she worked. Her passion was infectious. In another life I would have loved to have followed a similar path. I’m grateful to have the opportunity to show her work at my studio, brief as it will be.

Money is tight for those of us occupied in the arts. I recently sat down with my local banker to sign a staggering new loan to re-float my ship before it permanently runs aground. In the office hung a well framed caricature of what I presumed was European Impressionism. I inquired to the banker, who seemed to be around the same age as Laura, about who had chosen the print. She replied that the bank had, and that she didn’t have a choice. She didn't want to rock the boat she was in, I get it. Having your name on the door awards no aesthetic privilege and we can't do anything about it. Let’s throw up our hands. I’d still argue that relinquishing choice is still a choice. The print is likely of Chinese origin, bought in bulk and installed in a spirt contrary to anything associated with art. It’s Andy Warhol’s soup can without a trace of the irony. I recall this incident because it connects why banks do well and artists do not. It is more than the 1% gaining from our collective increased productivity. It’s been happening for decades. Profiting from our expanded yield they promoted a cookie cutter culture that punishes aesthetics.

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything about my photography, and this weekend was a big one for me so here it goes.  This weekend LIGHTS came to Sarnia, and I wasn’t only excited that I was going to see her for the 3rd time, but this time I was going in with a photo pass. This was a true learning experience for me, but I was happy to get to do it with an artist I’m a big fan of. 

Writing is something I really struggle with. I seem to have a hard time organizing the thoughts in head and putting them down on paper (or keyboard). 

I am currently finishing up my last term in the Digital Photography program at Lambton College, and I have a few papers to write. I’m in the process of finishing my artist statement, my mentor interview paper, and a feature article of whom I chose to write about my partner Adam. I suppose I’m procrastinating by writing this post on how I feel about writing, but this is the second post I’ve written in two days and I’m finding that it’s really helping me out.  My English class this semester is on how to teach us to write for media. Before this class, I still had our blog, but I let Adam do a lot of the writing. I would post my photographs and videos, but I would let me speak for themselves. Now I’ve been trying to write more, and it’s starting to sink in that this class has really helped me find my blog voice.  Another great help is music. Whether it’s Top 40, Indie, Instrumental, or Classical, throwing on a pair of head phones and letting the music inspire has become the way I work. Doesn’t matter if I’m out for a photo walk, editing my latest photo set or video, and now writing, it is a tremendous help.  Today’s song of the say is  “Tristan Und Isolde by Richard Wagner. 

I want to send out a big thank you to my English teacher Erica Kelly who has helped me more than she knows. Our small chats about writing have really helped me let go of my hang ups. 

This is only the beginning. 

Inspiration can come from anywhere. Jess introduced me to the latest Sia video with Maddie Ziegler.  The latest videos from Sia are so emotionally powerful, and beautifully choreographed. With Jess being a dancer, I thought it would be fun for both of us to create a shoot with poses and moves inspired by this video.  Give this a watch and enjoy. 

I planned and executed a photoshoot for this past weekend. We had a lot of fun trying out different poses and makeup styles. Jess is a dancer, so we started off by photographing different dance moves. I stood on a step ladder and let Jess do her thing, and took my shots as she improvised a dance. It was really entertaining watching her dance, but also good practice on honing my skills making sure I didn’t get any motion blur. When shooting like that, you definitely want to have a quick eye and finger. You want to get “the shot” and not miss out on that perfect move because it’s almost impossible to recreate. 

We then moved on to our portrait session. Our theme for the night was gold. We had 3 different looks in mind. I’m lucky and grateful that I have patient friends who are willing to get painted up and pose. I’m also very luck that I have talented friends who help me out with makeup and body paint. The makeup was done by local body painter Cat Cabajar.   This shoot turned out to be a bit of a trial and error. I had done my research and chose a couple of images as inspiration for the look I wanted, but wanted to make it my own. Even though I knew exactly what my end result was to look like, it’s not always guaranteed. I’m learning a new lesson on every shoot. The learning is never ending, whether it be on set with posing, lighting or in post with editing techniques and improving my photoshop skills. 

At the end of the day, I am very happy with my end result. I’m thankful for the people who were involved, to Jess for taking the time out of the holiday weekend to let me practice on her, and to Cat for her painting and makeup skills.  

The outcomes of artistic pursuit are random but is that true for one’s artistic motivations? Does the chaos of life shape the directions of our interests?

Since I was a teenager I thought I heard an overloud call to the stage and lied to myself for a decade about my true musical aspirations. Now I am old enough to have met the inescapable star, the true performer who have an insatiable urge to ply their trade. As more pieces of my personal puzzle fall into place I know that I have always wanted something different than that. It was a long misapprehension I’m glad to be relieved of.

It is likely that all of us had an introduction to songwriting via a star performer. Except that I was not. Not exactly. Like a lot of people I grew up listening to the records my parents loved like Fleetwood Mac and The Beatles. It exposed me to the art and to the promotion that surrounded it. Yet I also got introduced to songwriting without the trappings of power that help it reach a wide audience. My parents wrote and played guitar together. They stopped performing by the time I was old enough to form memories. In the 70’s they joined the mass exodus from Ontario to British Columbia. By the early 80’s they were back home. With songs of their own and songs from the greater world they entertained my sister and I around the campfire.

I have always been shy and I have always hated crowds. I’ve turned down a lot of invitations to concerts and festivals. I prefer watching performers in small clubs. Moreover I prefer listening to recordings. Once again, I'm flipping to the front of the book to my childhood. I spent it discovering my parents music collection and listening to it alone in my room. We had a farmhouse and the second floor had a bathroom, a spare bedroom with a computer (in 1989) and my room. That  record collection and our humble computer imprinted on me to a staggering degree.

I think my entire life might be an attempt to prolong a boy’s summer.  I spent them listening to music and sitting in front of a computer with occasional breaks to hear live music played in the yard. I never played sports on a travel team, and bailed on my 8th grade trip to Phantom of the Opera in Toronto. I don’t want to go anywhere and I live my life on an internal level.

Words like fan and fascination don’t describe my relationship with music with the emphasis I would like. I am endlessly fascinated by the musicians I have had the pleasure of meeting.  Sitting in front of two speakers has the same grip on me.

I know why I live in a small town and operate this little recording studio of mine. I was born too anxious to stay planted on a stage pleasing a crowd. My childhood filled me with a curiosity to investigate everything about music. Everything but it’s promotion and the business that envelopes it. So today I’m sending twelve messages in a bottle out into the water in the hopes that my passion becomes contagious. I have this chance to share music and it is a chance. The chaos of my life has compelled me to this place and I’m grateful for it.

-Adam

Friends are a wondrous thing. I’m slowly making my way through photographing them all. To capture a photograph and show them how I see them is one of the reasons I love photographing them. This is Pietro, we have been good friends for about 5 years.