Tag Archives: Canadian Music

Closer to my heart

Published 01/16/2020

By Andrew Berthoff

This SOCAN blog post, written by SOCAN Chief Communications & Marketing Officer Andrew Berthoff, was uploaded to The Toronto Star website on Jan. 14, 2020, and printed in the newspaper the same day.

I was a 14-year-old in, of all places, the subdivisions of St. Louis when I learned about Rush.

My friend Bret alerted me to this weird Canadian trio. Bret knew about them because his cool older sister, between her apparent penchant for Zeppelin, Steely Dan, and the Moody Blues, got A Farewell to Kings.

Before I knew it, our small, socially awkward, intelligent band of friends were playing the grooves off of Hemispheres, mesmerized by the lyrics and percussion virtuosity of Rush drummer Neil Peart.

We had our own little clique. We were cool to be outcast. And it was mainly Peart who brought our hearts closer to Canada.

To put an even stronger nerd-factor into my musical tastes, I became a bagpiper, as engrossed in piping culture as I was in Peart’s mystic lyrics, Lifeson’s double-necked riffs, and Lee’s improbable bass-falsetto combination. Bagpipes and Rush: unlikely watchwords of my adolescence.

Those halcyon pre-Internet days made us wonder just what they were all about. Geddy? Romantic poetical references to Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan”? Cygnus? Where was this Lakeside Park and its fantastical willows in the breeze? And just how was “Peart” pronounced anyway? Pert? Pea-art? Or could a twist of satined-mustachioed-lyricist-cool make it rhyme with “heart” itself?

One thing was sure: the heart of Peart was art.

Soon I was discovering and enjoying more made-in-Canada music. April Wine. Max Webster. Neil. Joni. I’d wonder what the obscure reference to “Becker’s chocolate milk” meant on the credits on an album sleeve.

We saw two Rush concerts: December 1978 at the Checkerdome and February 1980 at Keil Auditorium. They played three sold-out nights at the latter, having somehow secured a fan base toehold in St. Louis, with the help of Bret, Keith, Rick, Matt, and me.

By that time, though, Rush’s Permanent Waves foreshadowed and countered new wave. As the ironic album title suggested, Rush would stay true to their craft, even though cool was now coming from the U.K. in the form of deliciously synth-y bands.

I went off to college in Minnesota. It was even less cool to love Rush. After detecting some slight musical and video compromise with The Big Money (more irony), I left them for local fare like Prince and The Time, while soaking in as much of The Cure, Echo & The Bunnymen, and REM as possible.

But my interest in Canada, spawned by Rush, continued. Through bagpiping, I discovered that Canada possessed the best pipers in North America, and a thriving scene that I wanted to be part of.

My father and I would journey to Ontario from St. Louis for me to compete in piping competitions in unlikely towns like Cambridge, Dutton, and Maxville. Hours of dad-driven 55 mph travel in our radio-less, ochre-coloured Dodge Aspen.

My heart would leap up driving across the 401 at the top of Toronto. In the distance, could it really be the same high-rise housing featured on the cover of A Farewell to Kings? Eyes cast up on the path of least resistance.

Canada would hold its cool. Within a year of completing university, I fulfilled my subconscious dream and somehow landed in Toronto for good. It was May 1988, and I’d even live in Alex and Geddy’s Willowdale ‘hood for several years. I became a Canadian citizen by 1995, and here I remain.

I would continue to learn and love music made in Canada, and eventually transfer that love, and my career in communications and marketing, to fulfil another subconscious dream: working on behalf of Canada’s songwriters, composers, and music publishers, fighting for their rights, promoting their success.

When I turn my pages of history, I can’t help but to give much of the credit to those days long ago in St. Louis. I thank this unusually compelling power trio for bringing me closer to their art, compelling me to Canada, through music and words.

Neil Peart’s words.

Three Reasons Why SOCAN Members Should Rejoice

Published 09/16/2019

By Diane Tell

1 – Drake is a SOCAN member.
An article titled “Three reasons why,” ending with the name of a superstar is, I admit, a bit of a tease, but I needed to get your precious and sometimes fickle attention. I did it, right? Maybe you know that famous Groucho Marx quotes, “I would never join a club that would have me as a member.” Conversely, I would totally be a member of a society to which Drake would agree to give the management of his copyrights! With an average of 20 million Spotify streams daily, 19 million subscribers, and 7 billion total views on YouTube – to mention just a few metrics of his immense success – the Toronto-based artist could have easily let himself be lured away by the American siren song, but instead, he’s one of us. I’m not privy to secret information, but I gather that means that, at the very least, he’s satisfied with this arrangement. And what’s good for Drake is good for me, and good for our organization as a whole.

2 – SOCAN belongs to us.
I wrote “our organization” because SOCAN belongs to us. SOCAN is not a government agency and doesn’t belong to shareholders: SOCAN is a co-operative, or in other words, a society, that belongs to its members and, more specifically, an economic group based on the principle of co-operation, in which all participants, equal in rights, are associated to carry out activities with the goal of satisfying their work, or consumption needs, by being freeing themselves of the rule of capital. In 2017, the Blackstone group acquired SESAC, one of the oldest collective rights management organizations in North America, which is itself the owner of the Harry Fox Agency, a mechanical reproduction rights management society founded in 1927. Did you know that? I’m perfectly fine that my modest business capital doesn’t belong to one of the planet’s most powerful investment firms… How about you?

3 – SOCAN, the devil’s advocate, is in the details.
In Canada, there’s a small detail worth knowing: copyright falls under the purview of two devilishly opposite federal departments. Heritage Canada and Innovation, Science and Economic Development (ISED). To avoid any potential faux pas, I’ll quote the official versions of their mission statements, available publicly on the Canadian Government website. Canadian Heritage and its portfolio organizations play a vital role in the cultural, civic and economic life of Canadians. Arts, culture and heritage represent $53.8 billion in the Canadian economy and more than 650,000 jobs in sectors such as film and video, broadcasting, music, publishing, archives, performing arts, heritage institutions, festivals and celebrations. The Copyright and Broadcasting acts, according to this web site, fall under the purview of that federal department. OK, but… Innovation, Sciences and Economic Development’s portfolio is composed of the following departments and agencies: Canadian Northern Economic Development Agency (CanNor), Atlantic Canada Opportunities Agency (ACOA), Federal Economic Development Agency for Southern Ontario (FedDev Ontario), Canadian Space Agency (CSA), Business Development Bank of Canada (BDC), Copyright Board Canada (CB), etc. That department is also responsible for the regulation of broadcasting and telecommunications – broadcasting, distribution and spectrum licences, telecommunications standards, certification and more. And more? No thanks. I’d like someone to explain to me how Mr. Industry and Ms. Heritage manage to agree on the custody of their children, namely content and creators. But then again, I’ve got other fish to fry. I’ve got songs to write, a show to put together, an Instagram post to publish… I leave the SOCAN experts to deal with this puzzle, that I’d call “the paradox of the Canadian context for copyrights.”

For these reasons and many, many more, I’m incredibly proud to be a member of SOCAN, as well as one of its directors. SOCAN is democratic, has gender parity, it’s innovative, and it’s one of the least expensive rights management organizations in the world. Bold new tools are already in place, or being developed, to achieve the highest possible efficiency when it comes to collecting and distributing our royalties. A new member portal will be live online before year’s end. You won’t believe your eyes when you see it! The music industry, having been completely transformed by the digital revolution, is having a hard time letting go of its old business models. But SOCAN is constantly re-inventing itself, and giving everything it has to offer new and improved services, such as the addition of mechanical reproduction rights – thanks to the acquisition of SODRAC. I’m really happy to be part of the SOCAN family. And you?

About Diane Tell

Music venues need to provide non-alcoholic drink options

Published 07/11/2019

By Damhnait Doyle

A shorter, abridged version of this SOCAN blog post, written by SOCAN Board of Directors member Damhnait Doyle, was uploaded to The Toronto Star website on July 10, 2019, and printed in the newspaper on July 11, 2019. Following is the original, full-length version.

I really began drinking when I started in the music industry.

I was a blisteringly shy and introverted girl from Newfoundland, not long out of Catholic high school, finding my feet in downtown Toronto. I was young, scared, and surrounded by people I had admired and idolized my whole life. I felt like a fraud, an imposter.

Straightaway, I had a hit with my first single; suddenly, my video was on MuchMusic several times a day. Anxiety was coursing through my veins at lightning speed. This happens when your greatest fear is people looking at you, and you have to go on stage for a living. I was so nervous, I threw up in a bucket, stage side, before my first headlining gig (no booze was involved). Shortly afterward, someone bought me a shot of tequila before I went onstage, and boom! I had my liquid courage. I could go out there, and the fear turned into adrenalin. It felt like the answer.

Musicians don’t drink like normal people. You drink before gigs, during gigs, after gigs, on your day off, on a travel day, at the airport bar, the hotel bar, in the bus, the back of the van, when the show sucks, when the show is off the hook, when your song is on the radio, when no one’s playing your single, when you can’t get arrested, when you get arrested. In music circles, alcohol is both the journey and the destination.

When you’re doing it, you don’t realize that alcohol is putting a blanket over your intuition. Your body could be screaming out, “What the hell are you doing? Stop drinking!” and you’d be all, “Wow, my blanket is really loving this Rioja.” It creates a lack of communication between your brain and your physical body and spirit. When you suffer from depression and anxiety, as so many creative people do, the alcohol that you think is taking the edge off of anxiety, is actually building a fire around your body, stacking it with kindling, paper, and logs, and setting it ablaze. Add on the logs of a 4:00 a.m. lobby call, a nine-hour drive to the gig, and nothing but Tim Hortons for three weeks, and you have an issue.

I woke up almost a year ago and realized alcohol wasn’t serving me anymore. I was done. I hadn’t even considered it as an option before that. On paper, I didn’t have a problem. People asked , “Why would you stop drinking, I drink way more than you.” It’s as if society says the only legitimate reason to quit drinking is if you get thrown in jail, or you get a DUI. Now, sobriety is catching on. People are having a collective awakening, that they don’t have to drink just because they always did, and because everybody still does.

I’m writing this because I didn’t see many stories of people in my sphere talking about it, and when I did, I rejoiced. Listen, there are some cool-ass sober musicians. I know this because I’ve Googled that exact phrase 100 times since last August. That really helps – knowing you’re not alone is an incredible gift, so I’m adding my voice, and passing it on.

Next to having my family, quitting drinking was, hands down, the single best thing I’ve ever done. This includes getting up to sing “Will the Circle Be Unbroken” with Willie Nelson, every night for two weeks, with my band Shaye, on tour. Not drinking is the bomb.

I won’t lie, it was hard to stop.

I had to re-wire all the neural/social pathways in my brain. The first gig not drinking, the first conference (CCMAs), the first writing trip, the first time in the studio, etc. It takes a lot of work and determination to counteract the mindless habit of drinking. I can’t even begin to fathom the struggle that musicians who are in hard-core recovery from hardcore drug and alcohol use have to go through every day. They have to go to work surrounded by the very thing that threatens their lives.

I don’t know of many other careers where you’re not only allowed to drink all the (free, Free, FREE!) booze you want, but you’re expected to do so, to some degree. Still, I was shocked, when I stopped drinking, by the lack of non-alcoholic beverage options (and, no, water and colas don’t count) at bars and venues in Canada. I believe everywhere a musician goes to work (and yes, even though it’s nighttime, and it’s fun, and it’s your favourite band, it’s still work for the musicians and crew), there should be a proper non-alcoholic option. Sometimes, you just want to have something in your hand, something that lets you blend in, without having to explain why you’re not drinking. Not to mention, non-alcoholic (NA) beers are delicious, taste just like regular beer, have only 30 calories, and won’t give you a hangover or a gut.

For bars and concert venues, the profit margin for NA beer could be just as high as their alcoholic counterparts, or higher. They just need to stock one row, one measly row. I’m not saying they should charge as much as they do for real beer, but I’m gonna be so happy for the option, I’m not gonna complain.

So we’ve got the mental health/addiction component, but we’ve also got the #metoo component. #Metoo demonstrated that silently sitting with something awful causes rot – and if you don’t catch it in time, you disintegrate. Thankfully, our industry is having the necessary conversations: How do we fix, how do we prevent, how does this never happen again? We have to look at the facts, which tell the story, with a running theme throughout: Alcohol. Almost 50 percent of all sexual assaults involve excessive amounts of alcohol. You can’t make up someone’s mind about how much to drink, or how to behave; but if you don’t at least offer up non-alcoholic options, sexual assault statistics will stay the same.

I want to thank Allan Reid at CARAS and the team at SOCAN for making sure that non-alcoholic beverage options were available at this year’s JUNO awards, and at the SOCAN Awards Gala. It may seem like a small thing, but it creates a ripple effect. I’d like to see us band together as an industry and make sure that every festival, every club, every bar, everywhere that musicians go to work, has a non-alcoholic option. Until then, I’ll keep on sneaking my NA beer into bars, and having way more fun than I ever did.

Subway Songs

Published 06/26/2019

By Chaka V. Grier

For as long as I can remember, even as a small child, the subway performer – purveyor of the un-requested tunnel performance – mystified, and even saddened me. Standing under bright fluorescent lights, playing original music or cover songs, sometimes surprisingly pleasing, other times dubiously karaoke-ish. Seeing them, I often tried to avoid eye contact, while pondering why anyone would be drawn to performing in a space where 99 percent of us are relentlessly focused on getting from point A to B as quickly as possible?

I sometimes peered, as discreetly as possible of course, into their open guitar cases filled with change. The coins were most often scant, which is when the sadness would emerge. As a freelance writer, I knew that scarcity well; but I was grateful that, like the respectable starving artist I was, it was restrained to the private, virtual walls of my bank account, and not out there for the world to see. Yet throughout all my parent-like head shaking – “Why, seemingly nice subway guitar man, singing a pretty convincing rendition of Tom Petty’s ‘You Got Lucky,’ are you putting yourself through this?” – I noticed musician after musician performing proudly and passionately, despite the indifference of passers-by, and earning only random loose change.

Eventually, as the rise of music-competition reality-TV programs held me enthralled, I made a sudden connection. These shows fling open the doors to the grueling world of auditions, and trying to get noticed, and in some way, subway performers are the pioneers of such brutal public auditions. They’re akin to stand-up comedians, who bravely take to the stage in front of potential hecklers, cutting their teeth on indifference and possible ridicule in order to pursue their passion for laughs. In the case of subway musicians, they’re just as daring, for the love of song.

I soon took my nose out of the air and acknowledged the true greatness of the subway performer. Unbeknownst to me, I’d been witnessing one of the bravest things I ever see as a music journalist: under-appreciated artists, bringing their song and artistry to the coldest, most agitation-inducing, perfunctory spaces in my life. I had taken for granted how a steel drum playing in the winter brightened my mood, while I waited in line for my French vanilla coffee and two chocolate dip donuts. How saxophones, melodic folk guitars, and singing voices were often lovely signals that I was back at my station and heading home, or great distractions while I waited for a late friend.

One day I struck up a conversion with a talented performer at Bloor-Yonge station in Toronto. Turns out he’d been nominated for a JUNO Award and performed throughout Canada. So, this was a thing, a real thing! I was so curious that I Googled subway performing, and learned that musicians audition at the Toronto Transit Commission (TTC) to play in these spaces. Performing in subways isn’t some last resort for those who can’t find any other venues. The musicians are licensed and allotted one of very few slots – 75, to be exact. They’re often roving performers, true bohemian artists, who understand the diversity, tenor, and changing communities in different parts of the city, simply due to performing throughout the 25 stations while licensed. Most do more than performing in the TTC; some teach, or record, or both.

Recently, the TTC program was named Underground Sounds. More stations have been opened to performers, and online auditions are being accepted for the first time. In some spaces, like those at my Finch station (as well as Bloor-Yonge, Spadina, and Main Street), I’ve noticed a striking black vinyl box that extends from the wall onto the floor, accented with music inspired decals. It’s a designated performer’s space, which, in a subtle but effective way, sets musicians apart from the rest of us, telling us that this is their stage. They’ve even created a hashtag, #TTCmusic, to celebrate these unheralded performers, who light up dreary tunnels, and bring vibrancy to our travel time. There’s something deeply generous in spirit about those who bring joy to joyless spaces, and some days barely make a few dollars for doing so. But they do so anyway.

So, this is my shout-out to the subway performers from Finch to Main Street, and everywhere in between. Thank you for your artistic courage. Thank you for making the mundane, sometimes unreliable, occasionally infuriating TTC travel experience more bearable. And thank you #TTCMusic for enriching my days with your soundtracks.

Drake: More than a rapper

Published 03/29/2017

By Howard Druckman

After the 2017 Grammy Awards, where “Hotline Bling” won for Best Rap/Sung Performance, and Best Rap Song, Drake said, “I am referred to as a black artist, like last night at [the Grammys], I’m a black artist… I’m apparently a rapper, even though ‘Hotline Bling’ is not a rap song,” during an interview on Apple Music’s OVO Sound radio. He said he finds himself pigeonholed in categories like rap, even if “Hotline Bling” is arguably a pop song.

Truth is, Drake is remarkably eclectic in his musical tastes. On his new “playlist” (but really, it’s an album) More Life, he samples Lionel Ritchie’s “All Night Long,” Earth Wind & Fire’s “Devotion,” South African DJ Black Coffee’s “Superman,” Australian artist Hiatus Kaiyote’s “Building a Ladder,” and even a snippet from the Sonic the Hedgehog video-game theme. He’s exploring genres like afrobeat, grime, even Arabic music, and more of the dancehall, trap and other Caribbean roots he first explored (and took worldwide) on VIEWS.

But Drake is a keen listener to, and promoter of, all kinds of music. For example, when he curated the musical accompaniment for a Sotheby’s S|2 gallery exhibit of work by African-American artists from the last 70 years, among his choices was seminal 1930s acoustic blues originator Robert Johnson’s “32-20 Blues.” Even more astonishing than the choice was that Drake said he listens to the song before every show, because “that’s how I get set.”

In another example, the basis of “Hotline Bling” was a sample of the 1972 Timmy Thomas one-hit-wonder, slow-jam plea for peace, “Why Can’t We Live Together?” It’s music Drake reportedly fell in love with after his right-hand-man producer Noah “40” Shebib played it for him. In an interview with Nardwuar, who played him a personal message of thanks from Thomas, Drake responded with, “I just want to thank him for making incredible music in the time that he was making music. And just for doing something that’s timeless, because it’s really difficult – not only for something to resonate with you years later, but be good enough to actually take a piece of it, and be able to make something else from it. That takes a really special creation.”

Perhaps the most remarkable example was a short-lived online leak of Drake singing a verse of the Velvet Underground chanteuse Nico’s 1973 version of singer-songwriter Jackson Browne’s sadly beautiful ballad “These Days,” which he penned for her in 1967. Drake teamed up with Barf Troop’s Babeo Baggins to do it, for a covers EP. “Basically ‘These Days’ is my favorite song,” Baggins told Fader. “I just shared it with my friend, he had never heard it before. He connected with it too, he thought it was a really great song.” Drake’s unlicensed version has long since been removed from the internet, and hasn’t been released by Baggins, but you can hear Nico’s version here.

Maybe it’s because he was listening to his dad’s record collection as he grew up. Maybe he’s just musically open-minded. Maybe he’s easily bored and needs to explore. Maybe all three. But whatever the reason, Drake connects with all kinds of music, which only makes his own that much stronger.

Why are Canadian songwriters the best?

Published 12/1/2014

By David McPherson

There’s a line from a songwriter friend of mine that goes, “Most of my friends have all moved on/Dollar bills have replaced their songs.” When I think of Canadian songwriters, this line resonates because most, on the contrary, don’t give up. Sure, many take another job (or two) to supplement their income, but the majority continue to toil on the unpredictable road of a professional singer-songwriter, ditches and all. Why? As another songwriter told me recently, “There’s nothing else I know how to do.” And Canadians’ lives are much richer for the gifts they give via their words and music.

We’re familiar with the greats, all SOCAN members: Leonard Cohen, Bruce Cockburn, Luc Plamondon, Gordon Lightfoot, Serge Fiori, Joni Mitchell, Robert Charlebois, Gord Downie, Bachman & Cummings, Ian & Sylvia, Cuddy & Keelor and more recently, City & Colour, Tegan & Sara, Louis-Jean Cormier, Drake, Julien Mineau, Serena Ryder, Shad and deadmau5, among others. And that’s just a handful of the songwriting talent that exists in our country. Many have won JUNOs, ADISQ and SOCAN Awards, some have been inducted into the Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame, some have even earned the Order of Canada. And for every one, there are hundreds more writing great songs. Small wonder SOCAN has more than 120,000 members.

What makes their songs so good? The pride and passion they bring to their craft. Their ability to tell our country’s story, dissect our nation’s history, or tackle the eternal mysteries of the Canadian heart and soul. I see today’s song-crafting men and women playing at various Toronto venues every night of the week, testing their work on anyone who’ll listen. A good song can give strength in times of trouble, joy in times of despair, make you linger long on the lyrics and want to sing along. There are many such quintessentially Canadian anthems: Consider Leonard Cohen’s “Bird on the Wire,” Blue Rodeo’s “Hasn’t Hit Me Yet,” Robert Charlebois’ “Un Gars Ben Ordinaire,” Gordon Lightfoot’s “Early Morning Rain,” Gilles Vigneault’s “Mon Pays,” and Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now,” to name a mere few.

It’s a cliché that Canadian songwriters are attuned to nature because of the wide open spaces of our nation, but the seed of that idea is true. Those spaces, our cities, and our harsh winters and hot summers all affect the national character, making for the kind of memorable metaphors that so many Canadians can relate to. Think of Joni Mitchell’s line, “I wish I had a river I could skate away on,” from “River,” the vastness of the country portrayed in Ian & Sylvia’s “Four Strong Winds,” or the snow falling on the deep silent water of Lake Ontario in Blue Rodeo’s “Hasn’t Hit Me Yet.” Has anybody captured the essence of the frozen North better than Stan Rogers in “Northwest Passage”? Or the pleasures of life in a Canadian factory town better than Stompin’ Tom Connors in “Sudbury Saturday Night”? Or the vagaries of the road back from the big city to the small hometown than The Guess Who’s “Running Back to Saskatoon”?

Canadian songwriters don’t shy away from political and protest songs, either. The examples are endless. Buffy Sainte Marie’s anti-war song “Universal Soldier,” a hit for British singer-songwriter Donovan in the ‘60s; Bruce Cockburn’s “If I Had a Rocket Launcher,” which captures some of the helplessness of political action; The Tragically Hip’s “Wheat Kings,” which tells the story of David Milgaard, falsely accused of rape and murder, then freed after 20 years in prison; and K’NAAN’s “Wavin’ Flag,” an anthem of hope and inspiration for oppressed peoples.

Artists from around the globe have recorded songs penned by our talented songwriters. For example, Cohen’s “Hallelujah” is one of the most covered songs in history, having been recorded more than 300 times. Lightfoot’s songs – which have won 15 SOCAN Classics Awards, among countless other accomplishments – have been covered by Elvis Presley, Barbra Streisand, Johnny Cash, Sarah McLachlan and Bob Dylan, who’s called Lightfoot one of his favourite songwriters. Homegrown songwriters have placed innumerable songs in countless popular TV shows and movies, too.

Canada’s songwriters have also written or co-written smash hits for others, in a wide variety of genres, and our songwriters’ success on the world stage continues to grow. Take Rod Stewart’s “Rhythm of My Heart,” co-written by Marc Jordan and John Capek, chosen to open the 2014 Commonwealth Games in Scotland; Josh Groban’s “You Raise Me Up,” co-written by Thomas “Tawgs” Salter; Gwen Stefani’s “Rich Girl,” co-written by Chantal Kreviazuk, who also co-wrote – along with fellow SOCAN members Adam Messinger, and Nasri Atweh of MAGIC! – “Feel This Moment,” a worldwide dance smash by Pitbull featuring Christina Aguilera. Proud SOCAN member Stephan Moccio co-wrote one of the most successful worldwide hit songs ever, Miley Cyrus’ “Wrecking Ball.”

Judging by the collective of writers I’ve come to know – and sometimes interview as a freelance writer for various publications, including SOCAN’s Words + Music – there’s no reason to believe our influence will wane in the years to come. On the contrary, the number of SOCAN-member songwriters and composers who received royalties from outside of Canada doubled from 2007 to 2012.

Still need proof that Canadian songwriters are the best in the world? Go to your local live music venue tonight and hear one of them perform. Listen to the music. Absorb the words. And feel lucky that we live in a country brimming with the best songwriting talent in the world.