Welcome To The Show

At Christmas in 2017, I was completely broke. So was my friend Dana Schiemann, who happened to be an extremely talented singer and comedian. She suggested that we record a Christmas album of duets, and then we could each give it to our families rather than buying gifts. We called it "Roses Are Red, I Have No Money, This Is Your Present, Happy Christmas." We recorded the whole thing in the bedroom of my Toronto apartment. After our sessions, we'd go for a beer at a pub across the street, or watch a Christmas movie on the couch. It was a wonderful December.

I've had two major, can't-eat, can't-sleep, can't-do-anything-but-be-miserable breakups in my life, and after each one, I've found myself buried in Dylan albums. And, after each one, I've latched onto one song, called my extremely talented friend Jessie Peck, and asked her to sing it with me. The first breakup, in 2013, produced a version of Boots of Spanish Leather, which I arranged badly enough that you won't find it here. But in 2017, the album I disappeared into was Blood On The Tracks, and the song I couldn't get over was this one. When I learned to play it, I found myself slowing it down, picking out my favourite verses and phrases. It's no surprise, then, that the verses I chose are about a woman, obscured by the past, but remembered with something like longing, comfort, and regret. Jessie came to my apartment and arranged the harmonies one night in October, then I called my friend Dakota, a bassist and sound designer who worked at a studio. The three of us were able to get in after hours and record this. What you hear is basically the bed track - we had intended to flesh it out and finish it later, but lives change and time marches on and somehow, it never happened. It's unmixed and unfinished, without so much as a hint of reverb, but it sounds like Jessie and I working out how to sing a song together, and for that reason I'll always love it.

I wrote this song over the Christmas holiday in 2015. My girlfriend at the time was gone to China for three weeks on a music theatre internship. We were 22 and we'd never been apart more than a few days since we got together, it was a trying time for us. Because of the difference in time zones, we only had about forty-five minutes every thirteen hours to try to get a video call in, and usually there were two or three other people in the room with her, so it felt like we couldn't really talk. After a particularly unsatisfying call, I wrote this song from the fetal position on the floor of my childhood bedroom. It is, at moments, so full of self-pity as to be almost parodical ("at least I'm good at being sad"), but listening to it now, it still rings true to me, so here it is. Only a few weeks after I wrote this, my friend Kyle and I rented a good microphone and drove up to my parents' cottage to record what I thought would be my debut album. It was January and the cottage road was snowed out, so we had to wrap all our gear in garbage bags and load it into a snowmobile trailer to get it in. We wanted the record to sound authentic - like it had been recorded in a couple days in the middle of the woods by two guys who didn't really know what they were doing. Unfortunately, that's exactly what it ended up sounding like. We did six tracks in a weekend, and this is the only one that I still think is any good. Musically, I think I've grown out of what we were trying to do that weekend, but it taught me a lot. It was a wonderful way to fail.

This song was brought to me by my friend and frequent collaborator Zane Elliott. Zane is a phenomenal guitar player and one of my favourite songwriters - he has a knack for that effortless, half-talkin' half-singin' country & western feel that is so hard to do honestly. I loved this song instantly and did the bare minimum to warrant a co-writing credit - I changed the second-to-last-line of each chorus, I switched a chord, I suggested a key change at the end. It's Zane all over. Zane's been away from his Alberta home for a long time, and you can hear the distance on this track. It's a terribly difficult subject to write about without falling into the pitfalls of cliché, but Zane dips his bucket in the well and up comes this clear, country water, fresh and clean and full of truth. This demo was recorded during maple syrup season, 2020, at the beginning of a global pandemic, so sadly Zane doesn't feature on the track. But someday we'll record it properly.

A country-esque song about a drawer most of us have somewhere. Demo for American Songwriter Contest.

Who has the best plan to win the hunger game ? Tune in to find out! Enjoy!

Great podcast talking about growing up in the 80's with special guests Joe Darkangelo, and Tony Darkangelo! Enjoy!

Isaac Darkangelo has transferred to The University of Illinois. We dig in deep on why he transferred and how important it is to chase your dreams.

We take the show to the Barn. Special guest Derek Lasecki talks to us about hunting and fishing. Enjoy!

Special call in guests: Jackson Renicker, Jack Reiger, Dylan Roney, and K.C Zenner. Then we end with a math off, Austin vs. Isaac. Enjoy!

Honored to have special guest Andy Ciantar on the show. We had a chance to pick his brain about competing in Crossfit at a professional level, and some good quality laughter!

#ForThePeople Introduction to the three brothers, a little about ourselves, and some fun questions and games to bring some joy to the people.