Alec McElcheran

It's been a hard year for a lot of people so I don't want to moan and groan like my life is so hard. But clearly it's a bad time for artists in any performing art. I make my living from live shows; blues festivals and concert halls with the Paul Deslauriers Band, blues shows and local gigs with my own trio The Associates, subbing when people call. It's a decent living and I’m happy with the work I get. And that's been decimated this past year. I did get some acoustic shows this past summer, some recording gigs, and in December I went to Quebec City with Steve Hill and Sam Harrison to do a Jimi Hendrix show at the Palais Montcalm. It streamed live online. Really strange to play a big room like that when there's no one but crew. But stage crews are in the same position as we are and everyone was really happy to be doing what we do. I can only imagine what it's like for actors and dancers. They must have been hit harder than we've been. The live gigging thing might be slow to come back and it might be a bit of a different world after this. All I can say is that the lifers, the people who are committed to making this their work, we have to take what comes. --- I feel lucky in having a partner, Elizabeth, who I’ve been with for 31 years. I have friends who are really isolated, people who didn't lose work but are alone at home all the time. --- Anyway, I feel lucky to be living in Canada. Whatever faults people want to find with the provincial and federal response, there HAS been a response. And there HAS been social assistance. And yes that is going to be a heavy burden for years to come, but it's there. Having no response puts a different kind of burden.

I keep working on things. Writing, recording, playing a lot more guitar. Guitar is not my main instrument. For some reason the bass chose me, it's my natural voice as a player. I’ve always used the guitar as a writing and demoing tool, it's a little like a second language but I enjoy the guitar. This year I’ve been recording songs with my drummer, each in our home studios, putting out songs on Bandcamp, one at a time, slowly compiling a kind of "Covid Sessions" record. When we're done, we're going give it a title and print some copies - and I’m playing all the guitars on that. I’ve also been playing weekly live things online. I’m enjoying the casual nature of it. False starts, changing tempos, trying songs out. I’ve been picking up a few new songs a week, old blues songs, some 60s and 70s rock and soul, Cole Porter songs, some French tunes. I always play some slide and some bass. Between my guitar playing for my recordings and my guitar playing on these live stream things, I feel like I’m expanding my chops without woodshedding scales. I’ve never been good at being a student, more of a punk rock way of learning... get out there and jump in. Punk blues.

Strangely I’m going back. Growing up, my home was filled with music. My parent's classical music, my sibling's records; rock, funk, jazz, blues, New Wave, punk. But there are always holes. Things I missed along the way. So I’ve been dipping into Genesis and Gentle Giant and I love those Ella Fitzgerald songbook records; Cole Porter, Gershwin, Rogers and Hart. I don't think you're going to hear any that in my new songs but it's all food for the ears. Besides, the blues is never far away. You might not pick up on the Robert Johnson or Skip James when you listen to the last Paul Deslauriers Band record "Bounce", cuz of the way we rock out but it's there. When I first got to play with Paul and Sam, I noticed it. They know blues music. It's not rock with a little blues flavour on top. The songs are built on the blues. Chord changes, riffs, rhythms, lyrics so I go back to that well a lot.

Playing more guitar, learning more songs, learning a few more French lyrics. Taking the time to listen to whole records, all the way through. Which is how I listened when I was a teen. When I’m busy I just listen to what I’m learning. I spent last summer riding my bike - a lot. Going up the mountain 3 or 4 times a week. It can be a kind of punk rock meditation. While I’m pushing up the hills my mind is running through random thoughts and forgetting them just as quickly. I think I’ve argued politics with myself, written letters to the editor, and lyrics to songs. Then just let them go; I’m hoping that this is good for the brain. Otherwise.... I’m just nuts.

I don't really follow anybody for their deep thoughts. Between the ongoing dumpster fire of a political crisis "chez nos chers amis au sud", and the uncertainty of this pandemic, a lot of the information we're getting is the sound of stress. My counter to that is a weird one; I watch YouTube videos of people who fix guitars. It's not exactly deep, I’m not trying to learn how build or fix guitars. It's a little like watching cooking shows. You know that most people who watch cooking shows don't actually cook the things they watch. Watching the process itself has a calming effect. It's comfort food for the head. So I’m not really looking for a guru or an answer or someone to teach me how to be a better me. And then I watch Rachel Maddow or go on Twitter and dip into the stress. I’ve watched Keith Olberman quite a bit. Yes the message is stress, but it's nice to know that other people... smarter better informed people... look at the world in a similar way. No, I’m not nuts.

Playing. Playing music. Playing my bass. Not being able to do it has really woken me up to how much it means to me. The actual direct, live, physical playing of music. I need to do this. I have no desire to find another kind of job to do with music. I need to make music. You know, I developed tendonitis when I was 45. I spent a while thinking I might not be able to continue gigging. Or if I did I’d have to try to be a singer or something else. And it became clear to me that, whatever other joys I get out of writing and creating music, I have a need to strap on my bass and stand beside a drummer and do my thing. It's not a deep thought. This is not philosophy. It's just a visceral reality.
As a side note to this... I’ve noticed from playing my weekly online shows that people need music. I see it with all the online performers. People talk about art being important but then I see it right in front of me. People feed off of live performances. I feel a connection with the people who tune in. And the audience makes its own community. It's different with an online crowd, cuz I can't see them but people are having a conversation at a distance over a shared performance, at a distance it’s a different live experience. Now... let's get that back out in the real world again.

Gigs of course. But the whole gig thing, not just the playing part. I miss packing my gear into my car on a cold January night, driving across town with CBC radio on, lugging my gear into the bar. I miss the bar staff that I know, I miss the patrons who couldn't care less about the band, I miss the humid smell of winter clothes in a warm bar, the noise of people talking over the playlist. I miss loading out at 3AM when it's minus 20 and the car is iron cold. Stopping at Boustan for a falafel on the way. There's a life to this playing thing that involves traveling, being backstage at festivals, crossing paths with other players, crew, audiences. People. I’m noticing that when I’m out during the day and everyone's wearing masks, I’m hungry for the presence of people. Strangers. I’m not a country boy. I’m a city kid. I want a nice, busy, dirty, ramshackle city. With people all around doing their own thing. My city. I want my Montreal back.

I can't say that I have done much for other people. I have been living off other people's tax dollars, thank you my fellow citizens. Elizabeth and I keep each other sane, we keep in touch with family, Elizabeth's family, and mine. Some friends of mine are quite isolated right now. I wish we could visit more in person, but at this intense lockdown moment a lot of our contact is online. And this takes us back to how playing music live online seems to fill a need for a lot of people. It's not some noble endeavour. I’m not pretending that there’s anything deep about strumming a few songs. I do it because I also need to do it but the response that all the online performers are getting shows that it really fills a need. People feed off community... off sharing a live moment with other people. It shouldn't be a surprise, but somehow it does surprise me.

Moi? Clean? I’m joking of course. I have managed to throw some crap away. Which is a kind of cleaning. For the headspace.

You know, I’ve found myself using social media to be in touch with friends and family that... well sometime more than 20 years has gone by. Cousins in other parts of Canada. One in New Zealand. And people I knew well in CEGEP. I’m not the warmest person all the time and making these connections again is an experiment in human warmth. --- Well, that's great. I manage to make even that idea sound like a lab experiment. Did I mention that human was my second language? But we're all trying. I may master this living thing someday.