For decades, rock ’n’ roll has kept people chasing their dreams. It’s more than a type of music – it’s a look, a lifestyle, an attitude. For me, it’s the embodiment of freedom – a kind of freedom found within rebellion and passion. I was seduced by its charms at age six and eagerly signed over my soul. Of course, one can’t blame a six-year-old for failing to read the fine print.
Whether or not people realize it, singing for a living can be an anxiety-filled existence. Something as minor as the common cold is enough to turn what should’ve been an outstanding performance into a gong show. Singers in rock bands are constantly praying to stay healthy, while everyone around them bucks and brays in Dionysian delight.
I’ve been living in this neurotic bubble ever since our band formed in Toronto in 1996. It was a much different city back then, and as much as I loved it, I wanted to travel the world. I can now boast that we’ve played on six continents, in more than 40 countries. Nine studio albums, two live albums, 30-plus music videos and one documentary feature later, all of that worrying and stress appears to have paid off.
Everything changed, however, after we played our last show, in Huntington Beach, California, on February 8, 2020. In what felt like an instant, more than two decades of constant motion came to a standstill.
For years I had carried around N95 masks and even practised social distancing before it was cool. So, every time I would hear someone sniffle, I was confident I could handle COVID-19. But I was also terrified that my worst hypochondriac nightmare had finally come true.
Now that the virus appears to have reached its third – and final – act, people are starting to take stock of what they accomplished during this enforced break. Many have managed to pivot careers and seamlessly adapt on the fly. All this trumpeting has made many of us feel like underachievers. Being in a band that put out albums entitled “Sleep Is the Enemy,” “We Sweat Blood” and “I’m Alive and On Fire,” I’ve always prided myself on not having enough hours in the day to do everything I wanted. After hosting two podcasts, writing columns in rock magazines, publishing a book of essays and, of course, endlessly touring and recording, I was, at least on paper, primed to crush this time off with a majestic array of projects.
But that didn’t happen. Nope. Not at all.
As our year slowly got cancelled, I became obsessed with vaccine tracking and treatment updates. I monitored fluctuating case numbers as if they were volatile stocks or baseball stats. Instead of taking advantage of a prolonged hiatus, I worried about vulnerable family members and if I’d ever set foot on stage again. Every day I’d eye the dusty stack of books next to my bed that I wanted to read, but pandemic anguish would paralyse me. I stopped listening to music and even sold more than 200 records. I wanted to enjoy movies I had been meaning to see, but I’d inevitably pick up my smartphone and get distracted by some social media thread and start arguing with anti-vaxxers and pandemic deniers.
Still, amid the swirling anxiety, I managed to earn my film degree from York University (opting to snag it without honours).
All credit is due to my bandmate JC, who insisted we take this opportunity to make a record. Despite my every desire to remain immobile, I knew he was right and reluctantly picked up my guitar. It may sound corny, but writing riffs again, after months of inactivity, had a profound, positive effect on my mental state. The idea of attempting to make the best album of our careers took my mind off the pandemic.
Sending music files back and forth to one another in isolation, drummer Rich Knox, bassist JC and I channelled our lockdown frustration and angst into the songs. The result is our upcoming album, “Power Trio” (out August 27). I’m so proud of our effort because it’s the product of pushing back against the wall of fear, chiseling 11 songs that are powerful, resilient reactions to unprecedented circumstances. Songs like “I Want Out,” “Let’s Rock Together” and “Start the Show” need little explanation.
Now that I’ve received my second vaccination, a sense of relief is starting to creep in. When I reflect on the last year and a half, I’m very careful to not get down on myself for any idleness. I’m watching movies all the way to the end again, and, most importantly, I’ve started listening to music.
We still have a ways to go before things will feel truly back to normal, but if I can take away anything from this ordeal, it has reminded me how much I love playing music. My biggest fear now is that when I finally face a live audience again, out of sheer happiness, I’ll break down and cry like a baby.
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How Toronto musician Danko Jones found rock in a hard place — and recorded his tenth album amid COVID-19 - Toronto Star
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