I probably missed the news cycle with this one, but I can’t not post it. With life being what it is, and the emotion attached to this one for me, I just couldn’t get it out any earlier. For those of you who still thought it was relevant enough click through, thank you for taking the time.
Juno weekend was a mess for me. A dozen different venues over three days. Thousands of images to push out on a 24 hour timetable. Events invites coming up within hours (sometimes not even) of them starting. And in the midst of all of this, my last show with Iconoclast.
We were lucky enough to land a JUNOfest slot, and the timing couldn’t have been better. Just three weeks before I was slated to move across the country with my partner Natalie, if it hadn’t been for this, there would have been no farewell tour. And that just wouldn’t have felt right.
In the five years I have played with the Clast I’ve grown not only as a musician, but as a person, and a friend. They have seen me through some of the most drastic changes in my life. Developing a love for content creation through photography, making the move to make that my full time career, meeting and getting engaged to Natalie Fay, playing dozens of shows, some of them much higher profile than I would have ever thought possible. Opening for Theory of a Dead Man, the iconic Hard Rock Cafe in Toronto, RBC Bluesfest in Ottawa. That last one was a dream come true, and a day I will never forget. Opening up a world of amazing people who have supported my goals. I can say with reasonable certainty that with this band, I would not be where I am today. Indirectly as it may have been, this experience has influenced my life in a huge way.
The emotions that came out of that night stayed with me until I left the city. It’s hard to wrap your head around losing something with such immediacy that was such a big part of your life. The comradery, the energy, the feeling you get when you’re up on that stage. It’s defining, and it’s very hard to let go of. I have no intentions of giving up on music as a part of my life, and hope that the scene out here allows me to foster a similar (although never the same) relationship with new musical brothers. But the hardest thing to leave behind is the fans. The people who tirelessly came out and supported something that we all created. That piece of ourselves that we put out for 45 minutes at a time. We could not have done it, nor would we have wanted to, without you. There is a completeness I feel when I’m up on stage, and so much of that comes from the emotional connection between audience and performer. The energy becomes a tangible thing for that all too short amount of time. And I thrived on it. I cannot thank every one of you enough for allowing me to have those experiences, and I hope that someday when I have a new project, we will be able to share that connection again. Here are a few images of the night captured by my better half. I hope they speak to you the same way they spoke to me.