A Heartfelt Renaissance
I’m presently in the dazzling city of Tangier, in a community-owned type of cooperative cafe built in the ancient fortifications of the medina, a calm and reflective space standing only a few steps away from my new house, a traditional Moroccan Riad located close to the very alive heartbeat of the Grand Socco. I’ve been here for a little more than 2 weeks already, but it’s the very first moment of tranquility I have to muse about the last couple of months… The transition hasn’t been as easy as I would have thought. It’s never that simple for me, and it’s even more complex to navigate in the different layers of my life since I had my heart surgery. The body ain’t as complying as it used to be and I often find myself overwhelmed by the inspiring chaos I like to be part of… Therefore, it didn’t come as a surprise that I’ve been significantly ill for the first 5 days upon my arrival in Morocco. I was so exhausted following the end of my summer tour that I saw my immune system completely crash, lost a lot of weight pretty fast, and everyone became concerned that I would have to be hospitalized — thank God I didn’t have to. I learned to decode my new physical reality and subsequent condition just enough to know I would come back to the surface once I’d managed to get my balance back. The emotional aspect of my “reborn” self is still greatly puzzling for me, though, and I guess it’s even more confusing for those surrounding me. Everyone has to maneuver in the troubled waters in which my spirits often drift when they want to reach me… It’s not easy.
Being back in Tangier brings back several memories, some joyful, some painful. They mainly reflect just how significantly I have evolved since I first set foot here in 2016. I don’t believe in the transformative aspect of time passing us by, but I believe that it’s the sum of our decisions and how willing we are to truly face the current of our lives that create the ripple effect we end up having to deal with one way or the other. I never saw myself as a victim of my circumstances; you have to play the hand you’ve been dealt, no matter how fair or not it might feel to you. That’s what my paternal grandfather kept telling me as a kid (he was an avid poker player). “Outsmart your cards, Alex, and you’ll outplay the players around you.” I obviously didn’t understand the sub-messages and life lessons involved in what I felt were half-drunk philosophical formulas… I’m not sure how much more comprehension I have of it all now that I’m my own person, but it makes sense somehow, probably even more so after I came so close to dropping anchor over the edge of time itself. Like Ginsberg so rightfully wrote, “It’s never that facile to carry what looks like a heavier weight with each morning rise”. But still, it’s a decision to do so — or not.
Being back in Tangier brings back several memories, some joyful, some painful. They mainly reflect just how significantly I have evolved since I first set foot here in 2016. I don’t believe in the transformative aspect of time passing us by, but I believe that it’s the sum of our decisions and how willing we are to truly face the current of our lives that create the ripple effect we end up having to deal with one way or the other. I never saw myself as a victim of my circumstances; you have to play the hand you’ve been dealt, no matter how fair or not it might feel to you. That’s what my paternal grandfather kept telling me as a kid (he was an avid poker player). “Outsmart your cards, Alex, and you’ll outplay the players around you.” I obviously didn’t understand the sub-messages and life lessons involved in what I felt were half-drunk philosophical formulas… I’m not sure how much more comprehension I have of it all now that I’m my own person, but it makes sense somehow, probably even more so after I came so close to dropping anchor over the edge of time itself. Like Ginsberg so rightfully wrote, “It’s never that facile to carry what looks like a heavier weight with each morning rise”. But still, it’s a decision to do so — or not.
Photos from my first stay in Tangier, back in 2016.
A Leap of Faith
There was a significant number of people very concerned for my health condition when I decided to embark on a summer tour at the beginning of the year. I was still trying to find the right balance of medication, my recovery wasn’t going well, I was on the brink of a severe emotional breakdown following the loss of my pup MacKaye only a few weeks before, the studio sessions with Mikko turned into a real catastrophe… I felt profoundly isolated within the blurriness of my mind, as if I was lost in the thickness of an emotional fog, a strangely disorienting, yet comforting, kind of seclusive solitude, like being physically “there” without being affectively involved whatsoever. I guess that’s why, deep down inside, I knew I needed to go back on the road, to invalidate my doubts, address my insecurities, and conquer my paralyzing fears. It was a major gamble for me to pursue that idea, and the health issues were the least of my concerns. Would I have failed to be able to dwell on the transcending moment of letting go designed by my music’s purpose or would I have been unable to feel the spiritual dimension of the communal nature it involves for me to set foot on a stage, it would have been the end of it all. I was ready for it, disposed to play my hand, to outsmart my evident limitations and the frightening anxieties coming with them. While they weren’t the cards I had wished for, I wasn’t ready to fold; you lose every turn you don’t have the courage to deal with. But life, contrary to cards, can’t be checked. At least not in that case. I had to know, and that as soon as possible
Coming back on stage so shortly after my surgery wasn’t without risk, but knowing the tour would start at the Orange Blossom Special festival, where I found a community and a family, was the best possible outcome for me. I was terrified, nervous like I had never been before. My body was shaking, my head was like a deranged pinball machine with its lights flickering non-stop and its noisy sounds buzzing like crazy at the same time. I don’t remember much besides being so moved by the people crying in the audience… It was incredibly difficult for me to keep my feelings from taking over. Instead of trying to hold on, I jumped into the crowd to do body surfing. It was utterly dangerous as my chest was not entirely healed after being cut open, but I needed it so badly. I needed to give myself back to those who have kept me alive through messages, letters, postcards, prayers, and thoughts. I didn’t think about the dangerousness of such abandonment. It’s actually my managers, after seeing the pictures online, who called it out, a loving and caring intervention that most definitely brought me closer to them, as they understood my need to surrender while demonstrating a measure of affection I had rarely encountered before, offering a highly significant dimension to the benevolence by which I had been taken care of while floating over the sea of hands holding me as high as they possibly could. It might have been seen as me trying a little too much for others, but not for those who knew the real nature of my heart like the OBS community members do. Nobody, not even my bandmates, had a single clue that I felt too weak to get out of bed that very morning, that I was concerned that it could be the last occasion I would appear on a stage. And despite my dangerously low blood pressure, I knew I would be ok. And I was. I even spent most of the day talking with friends afterward. It was indeed what I had lacked the most psychologically; to hug, to laugh, to smile, to share, and to talk one-on-one… To be amongst my people.
Coming back on stage so shortly after my surgery wasn’t without risk, but knowing the tour would start at the Orange Blossom Special festival, where I found a community and a family, was the best possible outcome for me. I was terrified, nervous like I had never been before. My body was shaking, my head was like a deranged pinball machine with its lights flickering non-stop and its noisy sounds buzzing like crazy at the same time. I don’t remember much besides being so moved by the people crying in the audience… It was incredibly difficult for me to keep my feelings from taking over. Instead of trying to hold on, I jumped into the crowd to do body surfing. It was utterly dangerous as my chest was not entirely healed after being cut open, but I needed it so badly. I needed to give myself back to those who have kept me alive through messages, letters, postcards, prayers, and thoughts. I didn’t think about the dangerousness of such abandonment. It’s actually my managers, after seeing the pictures online, who called it out, a loving and caring intervention that most definitely brought me closer to them, as they understood my need to surrender while demonstrating a measure of affection I had rarely encountered before, offering a highly significant dimension to the benevolence by which I had been taken care of while floating over the sea of hands holding me as high as they possibly could. It might have been seen as me trying a little too much for others, but not for those who knew the real nature of my heart like the OBS community members do. Nobody, not even my bandmates, had a single clue that I felt too weak to get out of bed that very morning, that I was concerned that it could be the last occasion I would appear on a stage. And despite my dangerously low blood pressure, I knew I would be ok. And I was. I even spent most of the day talking with friends afterward. It was indeed what I had lacked the most psychologically; to hug, to laugh, to smile, to share, and to talk one-on-one… To be amongst my people.
Photos from the concert at OBS during the tour Ascending In Bright Lights.
The rest of the summer was a succession of a few good days and a lot of not-so-good ones, for many different reasons. Being in a band, even as a so-called solo artist, is not that easy. At least, for me, it ain’t. It’s as personally engaging as it is professionally demanding. There’s no place for bystanders anymore. We had endless arguments with one of the musicians in the early stages of the tour, to the point where, to everyone’s stupefaction, I had to reach out to my managers to set things straight. While it cleared the air between each other, it was nonetheless somewhat humiliating for me to even open up about it; we’re no kids anymore! I felt it was ungratefully selfish to fight with someone else’s inability to govern himself when I was actually battling against the perspective of calling the tour off any second due to my shaky health. I kind of came to terms with the fact that changes would have to take place in the future if I was able to keep going forward. We had a rehearsal space for the summer, but I probably went 5 times in total; I couldn’t stand the constant resistance and inner fights. Surprisingly, by listening to myself, I found some peace of mind, some necessary rest in my heart, enough to enjoy every subsequent concert, which, by design, were aligned to build back my physical stamina and my emotional clarity brick by brick. Then, it was fun for me again. I was exhausted and worn out, but my confidence was overly compensating for any health scare I might have had along the way. Again, meeting my people was like having a massive blast of a boosting cure every single concert I played. I didn’t care about the execution details that I was still trying to manage or the technical obstacles I had to constantly overcome… It was like being in a massive body of water surrounded by my friends. I forgot I have never been able to learn how to swim and I felt in security. I was intrinsically aligned with the moment. I was part of the tribe and we were all being uplifted by the waves created by our unique connection. I was welcomed and felt received, as much as I was welcoming others and receiving them as they were. That’s what music is about for me; an invisible sensation that roams free for us to be touched, moved, or even transformed if we are disposed to. And I was! A concert after another, I was becoming a little more emancipated from my need for control with every jump I’d do in the water, and those instants became liberating ones for me.
A few photos from after the shows during the Ascending In Bright Lights tour.
In fact, that’s why the latest concert in Cologne was so emotionally significant for me. It’s funny because when I started figuring out the different components of what would eventually be my summer tour, foreknowingly called “Ascending In Bright Lights” back in February, I insisted on adding a free concert to conclude our journey with all the gratefulness I could hardly express in words. I told myself that if I was to reach the finish line of that extremely meaningful stretch, it would be a consequential enough step toward the brightest of all seasons I would experience in my life. Accordingly, it was essential for me to celebrate that new measure of hopeful view with anyone available to make it as singular as I foresaw it to be several months before. Even my managers, as sensitive and fully engaged as they are towards my recovery, organized their family vacations so they could be part of that potential festivity. All that while, in the most secretive manners, friends from all over Germany were supporting each other in order to carpool, share accommodations, and financially help those who were unable to afford such a crazy get-together. Not only that, but people from Austria, Belgium, Canada, England, France, Japan, Iceland, Netherlands, Poland, Spain, United States also invested their hard-earned money to join me for that special occasion. That is without mentioning those from Iran, Norway, and Switzerland who came to one of the concerts during the summer. Completely unbelievable! Imagine my reaction as I climbed the backstage stairs at Die Kantine and saw the room filled with friends and family members… I flipped out!!! I was so unprepared that it took me quite a few minutes to realize what was truly going on. Even the collective chanting that was loudly taking place before I got on stage couldn’t prepare me to see so many familiar faces, all shining in their most magnificent lights and colors, all gathered to celebrate life. I was so stunned that when the band started playing, I went in front of my amp to add my whaling layers of feedback without realizing that my guitar wasn’t even plugged…! It’s Felix, our amazing stage manager, who noticed the situation. He just put his comforting hand on my shoulder, plugged my cable, and said “Enjoy! It’s a family party tonight!” That gesture kind of unfroze me. It’s hard to express how many “What?!”, “No way!!!”, “Impossible!”, “I can’t believe it” I had that night seeing so many loved ones when I went into the crowd to thank and greet everyone. It was absolutely unreal! No wonder we ended up playing for almost 3 hours. The energy communed was not only electric, it galvanized me.
Products of Modern Science
Yet, even though the concert was nothing short of phenomenal, the most beautiful part of the evening for me would come shortly after the music stopped, when I was finally able to join my people as I like to do after every show. Again, there was no shortage of hugs, kisses, laughter, smiles, funny and deep conversations, pictures, signatures, and then more hugs, laughter, and smiles would take place. I spent about 4 hours in the venue afterward, trying to meet as many friends as possible, which is no small challenge for me. It is something that, beyond my best intentions and careful attempts, is becoming more and more difficult to do and it always represents my biggest disappointment night after night. It’s as significant for me as it is for many to prolong our communal interactions beyond the music. It often ends in the parking lot after being gently invited by the staff that they want to go home after several hours of patience towards us all. My friends always question just how long I’ll be able to do that… Well, as long as I possibly can, I suppose. Until then, I’m utterly thankful that people understand that every minute shared is a common gift we need to value for the blessing that it is. And after 4 hours (which stands as the ultimate record for an after-show), I was so exhausted that I was barely able to stand. I kissed the last patient few goodbye and went back to the green room, where the celebration was yet to begin! Marcus, the promoter and a very dear friend with whom we had the utmost privilege to spend the summer at his family home, was waiting for me to pop a bottle of champagne for the band and crew members, a very sweet gesture for a man of great exception who, at 74 years old, was still all smile after arriving at the venue early in the morning to accommodate every single one of our particular technical shenanigans. It was a fabulously poignant moment, especially as having fought cancer at the very same time as I needed my double cardiac graft the year before, he knew what it meant for me, my friends, my family, and my community, to be in that room at the very moment. Some miracles are more obviously perceivable than others… Marcus and I were exactly that; products of modern medical science, but also of our resilience to keep adding yet another day to our already rich and abundant existences. There’s definitely more to life than the noise we all make as we define our distinctive voyage, and to find some of those elements is the greatest achievement of all… At least for me it is now. I hope you won’t have to face death like I had to realize it.
At Marcus’ place with the band & crew.
Transient Beings
Sunday was the time to wrap our things up and set the gear ready to leave later that night… I hate departures, almost as much as I despise unsettled transitions… we were all experiencing several type of sensations at once… the last concert euphoria was still floating in the air, which was amplified by the joy to have a diner with our managers knowing that we had made them proud, I was reassured regarding my capacity to freely linger in the invisible essence of the creative universe I’m always looking to roam into as an artist, but was also profoundly saddened to leave Markus and his family, bum out that I didn’t had the time and energy to explore the cities I stopped by, desolate I wasn’t able to stretch my European passage just a little more to enjoy the presence of loved ones I will dearly miss… yes, I hate departures… but they’ve been an integral part of my life for as far as I can remember… I had a vivid souvenir of me as a young child asking my father why we had to move so often… “we are transients Alex, don’t root yourself anywhere and you’ll have the ability to go anywhere you want, whenever you want”… poetic words turning the necessity for our family to transit from a place to another due to the precariousness status of our poverty reality… my father’s answer would eventually made me rich in adventures of all sorts, but would also left me craving for fundamental affective elements later on… I hate to leave, but I never intended to stay for too long… quite the paradox… I guess it’s the irony that comes with endlessly chasing your musing ghosts through the elusiveness of your own failures to do so… or maybe it’s refusing to surrender myself to what I define as the sterility of conformity… or only trying to avoid what I see as slowly fading away, which for me is the plague of imagination decay… go figure, we are all part pretensions and denials… it’s what we do with both dimensions that define who we are and what we’re contributing to others I supposed… who knows… ok, I’m missing the point and digressing right now… see, that’s how much departures affects me.
With our managers-turned-family after dinner.
Montreal & Leonard Without MacKaye
Going to Montreal for 2 days was a transitory necessity for me before I would head to Tangier. Unpacking and repacking… This could be the un-glamorous title of my future biography somehow! Or maybe “He wished he could stay, but never planned on it”. Oh well…! I was ecstatic to see my pup Leonard, who was manifestly not as happy to see me as I was. I can’t blame him; our lives have been forever broken since MacKaye’s passing. He lost his best friend, never went back home, and I left shortly after. So much for emotional stability… Hopefully, Leonard has always been tremendously good at adapting to whatever situation he was suddenly confronted with. MacKaye wasn’t… My long and successive absences are probably what made him sick in the first place. I haven’t come to terms with my profound guilt on the matter, and it’s hard for me to look at Leo without thinking about Mac, so it makes it even more painful for the both of us. I was honestly comforted to see that Leo was dealing with the whole situation way better than I was, and since he’s staying with Momoka, whom he’s always loved, she quickly became his stabilizing security, which is also a great solace to me. While I don’t miss any parts of my life associated with our Montreal Studio HQ, it was painful for me to turn my back on Leo almost as soon as I had arrived, but at least, there was some silver lining in the fact that we could spend some significant moments together before I would leave him behind once again. I wish I could take him with me to Tangier, but he is not that type of wanderer, so it would be selfish of me to impose my lifestyle over his need to be at home. Very tough nonetheless.
With Leonard upon returning at the HQ.
The Pearl of the Strait
Heading to Tangier for 6 weeks… A plan including 2 weeks to partake in the activities of our hotel, La Maison de Tanger, with Jeff and Miss Isabel (you should read Jeff’s incredible text about it) before consecrating another 4 weeks with Ben, Sef, and Stephanie who would join us for some writing sessions. It should be a very interesting experiment of sorts, as establishing a home studio in Morocco is no simple venture. We had to bring a whole lot of gear to do so. You can imagine just how astonished and curious the whole neighborhood was to see our road cases be carried across the overcrowded medina on an old cart and other wheeled assemblages. It was hilarious! I don’t think The Rolling Stones had that much gear back in 1967 when they regrouped with Brian Jones, who lived in Tangier at the time, nor when they came back to record “Continental Drift” with The Master Musicians of Jajouka and Bachir Attar in 1989 for the Steel Wheel album (a record I didn’t particularly like). So it should be interesting to know if we’ll be able to touch something we didn’t come close to even foresee during the extensive period we spent in our incredible church studio with Mikko in late February… Proof that you can have the most amazing gear in the world, it doesn’t have anything to do with the measure of heart and soul your creations may or not be filled with in the end. We’ll find out pretty quickly if the different guitars, our respective footboards, keyboards, wind instruments, and an electronic drum kit, along with a basic computer recording interface will lead the way to our personal and collective creativity in order to overcome our usual high-end technical needs. Going back to the foundations is always the key to finding the necessary hints pointing toward any new potential discovery and rediscovery. We should know where we’re headed soon enough! And it’s nothing short of invigorating. I should post photos and videos shortly.
Above; Our gear being carried. Below; With Ben, Isabel, Jeff, and Sef in Tangier.
Until I announce more of the numerous exciting news and updates regarding all that’s coming up for me, I wanted to thank you once again for sharing with me a summer I consider not only like no other but one that already offered me the confidence to keep on going, the determination to work conscientiously harder on my recovery and the increasing conviction that what I have the privilege to nurture from within does matter. Consequently, it was important for me to invite you in the midst of what has been quite an emotional journey. My text being an extensive one, I realized I haven’t published many intimate insights for what feels like an eternity. If I have a lot to commune with you, I noticed that, sometimes, I just don’t have the ability to make sense of my thoughts. It refrained me from writing for a while, but I’m getting better and better. So you can positively expect more regular journal entries from now on. And with my meditative album “A Measure of Shape and Sounds” coming up, followed by my very first solo American tour opening for the band Temples, there’s clearly no shortage of communal subjects for me to reflect on! Life, life, life. Now, now, now!!!
Don’t hesitate to write back, it’s always a true blessing to get to know you through your messages and comments.
Much love,
Your friend and brother
Don’t hesitate to write back, it’s always a true blessing to get to know you through your messages and comments.
Much love,
Your friend and brother
