“The Sparrow Songs is taken from a collection of lyrics housed in the archives of the State of Washington University at Tacoma. Ethnomusicologists believe that these songs are the only known remnants of what was once known as a “song-string” – an extinct musical form of the American west. The Sparrow Songs have never before been performed publicly.

Song-strings were an after dinner entertainment in which neighbours and families would gather with their instruments and set about to make a string of songs. The participants would take turns adding songs; the challenge being that each song would have to – in some way – relate to the previous song in tone or subject. Ideally, the songs would eventually form a narrative. Sometimes song-strings would develop over a period of years, and achieve great lengths”

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I met Todd at the Media Club in Vancouver in 2005. He had come highly recommended as a sound engineer by friends who had recorded with him and he was all ears when I told him I wanted to put a few songs to tape. In a flurry of Simko-styled energy it seemed like the next day that Todd was patching together a remote, guerilla-style recording studio in our rehearsal space. I’ll never know how he got those sounds out of that oddly-shaped, moldy-carpeted, concrete-walled room. Todd was always excited by a challenge and loved to try new things. If someone said they wanted to record in an igloo Todd would have not only figured out how to build an igloo but he would have been thrilled to know what the outcome would be. Todd didn’t use a textbook to figure things out. He experienced life. He made mistakes. He learned. He wasn’t a classically trained musician but he knew what sounded good to him. He wasn’t out to make music that sounded perfect. In fact, Todd loved what he called “happy accidents”.

Todd loved it when I made mistakes recording. Flubbing a note. A cough. A squeaky chair. He felt those were the magic moments that make recordings unique. Todd had no interest in making “gridrock” as he labeled it: music that is edited with recording technologies so much that it ends up sounding sterile. It’s music that may fit on Top 40 radio but doesn’t fit in the heart. Todd wanted rough purity. I recall my voice cracking while recording a song and instead of hearing “Okay, let’s try it again” through my headphones when I finished I heard, “Happy accident!” as Todd shouted gleefully, “That’s the take!” I resisted at first but ultimately Todd convinced me to keep the take. Life isn’t perfect. Mistakes are what make us human. There is an implication of truth, of the human element, in moments when our guard is down. To Todd’s credit, I now love those happy accidents that ended up on my album. Things that may seem technically wrong at first are actually just unique – and as an artist that’s all I could strive for. I’m glad Todd fought to keep those moments on record and that he was able to see what was special from a long way away. And now as I look from a long way away, I realize Todd was a happy accident. He was a quirky, creative, curious and unique individual who I came to love.

Today would have been Todd’s birthday. He left us far too early. I could go on and on with how much he taught me and how much we would laugh as we sat in his studio listening to all of the strange sonic roads we would travel before getting to our destination, but for now it is time to let go of what is gone and cherish what is in my heart.

Todd, I love you brother and I will always miss you.

Patrick

Leon Knight & The Neon Lights — Teach Me How To Rock n’ Roll by nicholrobertson

I aim to make 2012 a Year of Focus. Don’t fold into distraction. Be bold. Be righteous. Be…impetuous. I hope that you have imagined what your year might look like. Feel free to tell me. Comment if you like! Let’s talk!

That being said, I don’t want you to think that 2011 was all wax and beans. It was good too. I learned and grew in ways I didn’t expect. For instance, I became a better swimmer. I learned how to breathe properly while doing the front crawl. Sure, some of you may think that’s an easy task but I know there are those of you out there who know what I’m talking about — perhaps you cringe and are slightly embarrassed that you got through childhood swimming lessons with panic and adrenalin, but mastering the relationship between breathing and swimming easier than it seems. The key is to relax. Focus. Be calm. When you put you head underwater remember you will be bringing it back out to get more air. No need to panic. Slow down. One breath. Stroke, stroke. One breath. Stroke, stroke. Eventually, you stop thinking about what you are doing and it feels as though you are breathing underwater. It begins to feel natural. What I’ve learned is that by focussing on being relaxed I’ve been able to let go of the things that tripped me up previously, which in this case was something as simple as breathing. And so I take the boldness of the Dragon, the celebration of the Maya and the relaxed focus of the swimming pool and I say, “Come with me, 2012. Let’s dance.”

Be good to yourselves,
Patrick