i’ve been thinking a lot about the lovely cruelty of passing time. in the alleys and the stuffy second floor spaces over bars where the bands that broke out of this town incubated and fell in love and fought and created dreams. you chase all kinds of ghosts to see what you can rattle loose… and in this soon to be 376 year old city, there’s a million of them with pockets full of mysteries yet to be picked. it’s funny what happens over years of writing songs. as the battering ram of cold and snow waged its old war on the city, i kept a determined pace of daily writing with one goal… to impress this guy. and some 20 years later, i’d signed myself up to work with the brilliant mind behind that record, murray lightburn. the soundtrack to my first real apartment (the place without bugs, but with a toilet and sink) was the dears first record, ‘end of a hollywood bedtime story’. through the winter, riding my bike in the snow and under the vanhorn bridge to my studio just past beaubien in the mornings. it’s a place that humbly oozes its character. but this city is only revealing gentle layers so far, and there’s inspiration hiding… poorly. after a long stretch in the country planting garlic and driving the old yellow snowmobile around to see where the foxes peed and moose stomped through, my wife and i have returned to a lovely cosmopolitan grind. It’s been nearly a year since the move to montreal.
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