I Heard My Life Shift

and the three decades leading up to it

This is my 20th year of a conscious pursuit.

Basically a benchmark from which I have convinced myself and others that I have something to give.

I began piano lessons unable to climb onto a piano bench myself. With a half-hour rep every night from 3 years old until graduating high school, the discipline of the piano defined my pre-adult life. Mom pushed for my understanding of music theory as a means to communicate. Dad brought home a Squire Stratocaster and Frontman 100 as my first electric guitar rig. I circled through iterations of hockey mates as band mates and left Kennedy for the University of Saskatchewan in the Fall of 2001. In the compartmentalization of timelines this would close the earliest stage of my musical life. To include these home years as pursuit, this marks my 35th year.

A decade of experience was to follow. I was transient with or without a band, uprooting and relocating as a religion. My relationships were dramatic and my music was heavy. Upon discovering that I could sell an album to a stranger on their door-step I resisted building up another equal-share band, assumed all risk and zeroed my focus. Through thousands of neighbourhoods and conversations, I leaned into the prosperities of selling my albums door-to-door. I put my head down and ground it out for five years. Transience once again gave me an edge and I developed a travelling lifestyle of cold introductions and momentary connections. Displays of warmth and generosity balanced the disparaging doors slammed. A finely tuned pitch and a series of superstitions. Every dollar, reinvested into recording. I ended my twenties with a modest catalogue and a trophy or two for every kick at the can.

The Second Act ends with a stark decline in mental health. Having experienced a severe allergic reaction from penicillin, a paranoia developed towards moulds. Contact with a perceived "allergen" would trigger a panic attacks emulating anaphylaxis. Dozens of emergency room trips would end by being asked if I felt an "impending doom". I would answer yes.

Simultaneously, a major relationship was ending, southwestern Ontario to southeastern Saskatchewan proved its distance. With our family farm in a continuous transition I returned home to help and recalibrate. Fieldwork gave me a solace. A workday was restful. I clocked hours and kept my thoughts. Spring planting through haying and harvest made for a short hiatus of my music. The farm also welcomed the first of a new generation and I became an uncle alongside my brother's initiation into fatherhood. The literal new life healed wounds and encouraged a brighter outlook. I left the farm peacefully to throw myself back into an album cycle, or four.

Here began the seven year stretch which the pandemic brought to a close. Striving for roots while finding next best with a four-piece band and a love of Merle Haggard. Blake Berglund and The Van-Sized Vultures was a chemistry - always having seen my writing through a rock or folk tone - the combination of Bryce Lewis on Telecaster, Steve Leidal on drums and J.R. Lewis on bass and backing vocals had me writing around everything they were.

Still managing the imbalances of mental strain, it was easy to self-medicate. The consistency of pints of beer to career advancements would argue I was high-functioning. Hitting the hundred shows a year mark was also consistent. We were well-oiled and had a collective vision to out-twang our contemporaries. Dropping the "Van-Sized" from our name, we recorded a weekend at The Jasper Legion and released it as our first record together and a snap-shot of our grease.

In the odd weeks we'd spend off the road, all of us kept loose residencies throughout Alberta and Saskatchewan. Bryce was in Lethbridge, J.R. was in Medicine Hat, Steve was in Moose Jaw and I was in Regina. Any time apart usually had an iteration of us in one anothers' cities, playing or writing.

Earlier career efforts at co-writing were an approach to industry advancement and typically resulted in a quickly finished, good enough, ho-hum song about a "she". Meeting Del Barber changed that. Forming an immediate bond we also held eachother's writing accountable. I happened to be in Regina as one of his tours came through.

I arrived at soundcheck to begin my evening. Having never seen songwriter, Belle Plaine, we had a mutual friend in Del. As she opened the show I heard my life shift.

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A quick message:

Howdy Crew,

If you’ve been following along to predominantly Belle’s socials, you’ve seen that we have announced a streaming broadcast of a documentary/performance special we conceived.

“Belle Plaine & Blake Berglund: Living From Home” will be airing Sunday, May 1 at 6:00PM (CST) Saskatchewan time. It is an hour long special that follows our routines, collaborations, and home life. It’s filled with renditions or Joni Mitchell, John Prine, Dolly Parton and some new unreleased original material. Belle’s trash talk over cribbage is worth the price of the ticket alone.

For folks interested in assisting Belle and I in our creative endeavours, this is a big one. Grateful to all the households that have already purchased a ticket, it is wind in our sails. Please check out the button below.