A NORTHERN STAR, A PERFECT STONE...
'A Northern Star, A Perfect Stone' is out today on Paper Bag Records.
[A SPEECH FROM THE SPEECHLESS]
It seems at this point my mouth might remain agape and my eyes wide for eternity. Metaphorically speaking.
Though validation is precarious, knowing that these sounds have made their way to you through these channels is heartwarming, to say the least.
I can only hope that I accomplished what I set out to do, and that if you invest all of your presence in this record from its beginning to its end, you'll be rewarded for it.
There are many integral pieces to this structure, all of which I could never assemble in a post like this, but I'll do my best. I apologize in advance for the long-windedness, but I feel it's necessary to acknowledge these people today.
The majority of the musical content on this record did come from me, but Amelia Fraser's violin, flute, and emotional contributions are integral to its identity. On a similar note, a couple of key production decisions by Rowan Grice in the final days of assembly now seem so important I can't imagine if I had let them pass by.
Connory Ballantyne took this music and created a unique, cohesive visual identity with a minimalist approach, but a grand vision. Sydney Lanteigne provided the raw material for his manipulation.
Dylan King took my emphasis on a front-to-back listening experience very seriously, and carefully carved away at the penultimate product to make subtle but important details present.
Of course, the wonderful folks at Paper Bag. They saw something in this record, and allowed me the freedom to deliver it in its purest form.
Massey Hall has helped to forge a unique path for this project, one I am exhilarated to explore. CBC Music has also shown immense support for the project at such an early stage. Being backed by such institutions is an honour I don't take lightly.
This piece of music has traveled a long and winding road. Thank you to all who have put their faith in it along the way.
Since I lack the objectivity to make any respectable attempt at describing this record, I feel Connory Ballantyne's meticulously crafted words articulate it vividly:
'With our frozen Canadian landscapes comes a sense of winter-longing: that intrinsic northernly knowledge... The story hesitates, then urges forward, clean and crisp as the air breathed to be returned to the night in fogged form. We know the endings: cradle to the funeral pyre. Finality is imminent, yet it is a soft landing.'