Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere (or Zeppelin, burgers and the blues …)

It’s been a few weeks since I last posted …


It’s been a whirlwind this summer and, like most people, I’ve been busy ::

Gigging, rehearsing, writing new songs, co-writing, teaching, meetings (I start a new teaching gig this fall), more meetings, basement renos, more meetings, and, oh yeah, I caught this little virus called the ‘summertime blues’.

You see, the blues has been my friend for years now.  It comes, it goes, sometimes it stays for quite a while, other times leaving after a few days. Sometimes there is a trigger (stress, doubt), sometimes not. Sometimes it just happens. I wake up and boom – I FEEL LIKE SHIT. I can be a real pain in the ass to be around and often I don’t feel like being around anyone, so I isolate myself. If I have to be somewhere, I go, but that can be a stress. I put on my ‘It’s so great to be here face’, and grin through it. In reality I’d rather be at home.

There are times when the ‘blues’ get to me so much that I don’t know what to do until I realize that I’ve bottled it up inside my little head, which makes it worse. So I have to talk about it to get some relief. I never used to talk about my troubles, didn’t think anyone cared, didn’t want to bother anyone with my self doubt or my worries about hurting people’s feelings or my neurotic decision making. We ALL have our down time, and we all have our own way of relief whether it be exercise, meditation, a good TV show, movies, etc etc .. Along the way I discovered that talking about life’s stresses puts me in a better state of mind.

Other relief methods include a good old-fashioned walk, HAMBURGERS, Kronenburg and listening to Led Zeppelin’s “Houses of the Holy” cranked up in your car with the window rolled down with passers-by glaring at you and YOU DON’T CARE. Zeppelin is freeing. LOUD Zeppelin is downright theraputic.

So maybe there is a cure for the ‘summertime blues’. Maybe Eddie Cochran never heard the ripping guitar on “The Ocean” or the rippling keyboard on ‘No Quarter’ or the roaring drums on ‘The Crunge’ or the soaring vocals on ‘Over the Hills and Far Away’. Or maybe he just never tasted a delicious homemade BBQ’ed burger.

Happy summer everyone (or what’s bloody well left of it ...)

Thanks for reading, see you next time.


Born In Ontario

Today’s blog marks the first in a week-long “Proud to Be Canadian” series. Today’s post is about my Canadian pin …


I love to travel, love seeing what our world has to offer. It has given me great respect for the world around us and has offered me a greater love for my home country. I got this ‘travel bug’ from my Dad, who was a proud Canadian.

My Dad was a big believer in seeing the world, experiencing and learning from other cultures. He never finished high school, so traveling became his education. When I was a kid, we would take family trips every summer to see parts of North America. My folks would pack the camper, pack some food, pack the rum (my Dad’s stash) and off we went to see The Grand Canyon or the California coast or Graceland or Las Vegas. I was also lucky enough to travel to Europe with my Dad as a teenager. We saw Switzerland, Austria and Denmark. These experiences left a mark on me, and fueled my thirst for more. To this day, I make seeing the world an important part of my life.

I am very lucky to have had these experiences, and don’t take them for granted. For that I am grateful to be Canadian, as we live in the coolest country on the planet. Not only does our country offer geographical beauty (The Canadian Rockies, Niagara Falls, Cape Breton, interior B.C., just to name a few ...), but we as people are kind, generous, funny, friendly and warm. I can say this from visiting many different places and cultures, we kick ass.

Throughout his life, my Dad worked with many Americans. He always trumpeted the coolness of Canada and wherever he went he carried a pocketful of Canadian pins. Whomever he ran into – a business associate, the waitress at a restaurant, the gas attendant – he loved tooting the Canadian horn and offered them all a Canadian pin.

I remember once being in England with my folks. My Dad gave a pin to a five-year old boy who was fascinated with it. Returning home, the family sent us a picture of the boy wearing his Canadian pin proudly. My Dad was beaming.


So with Canada Day nearing, I remember the proudest Canadian I knew – Bruce Robertson. I still have a pocketful of his pins, wear them proudly and thank him for giving me the genetic curiosity to see our world. It makes me a prouder Canadian.

Thanks for reading, see you next time.