Like so many, I grew up in a particularly dysfunctional type of large family, an environment my parents have tried to protect me from as much as possible. I nonetheless quickly noticed just how detrimental it’s been for them to face the constant and ever-growing display of internal malices they were the object of. It defined my worldview as a child and greatly contributed to becoming the independent person I’ve always been, part of it being linked to the self-preservation that usually comes with growing up in economic poverty, but I realized that a lot of it originated from my childhood and my family’s affective disorder. It’s both a blessing and a curse to be that kind of independent. You’re comfortable being on your own, silence doesn’t freak you out and you are becoming an expert at emotional compartmentalization, but you are also looking for a deeper sense of purpose, for a place that could become yours. It’s difficult to commit and you always look distant, as if there was a layer that no one could truly have access to. You are fully living the moment without entirely being within the instant. I’ve often referred to those disruptive sensations in my lyrics and music, which is probably one of the very few places, if not the only one, that I’m completely intertwined into. Even if it’s a constant challenge for me to “be” the emotion rather than embodying what I intellectually know they are feeling like, there’s no small victory in true abandonment. Art, like life, is designed for you to surrender and their reward, if there is any beyond integrity, is to know there’s always room to expand, to evolve, to be transformed over and over and over again. That’s exactly what’s happening to me in many ways.

That’s why, when someone told me that my uncle, who had been one of my childhood inspirations, had died 4 years ago without any authorities informing me even though I was his next of kin, I was devastated beyond words. I would have liked to be able to fully live the pain that this situation conveyed within me, as much as I would have liked to be in a position to manage this family tragedy the right way. “Life” always seems to offer what feels like too limited alternatives to address impossible situations. Had I been in a different set of circumstances – since intensively working on a new album as we are doing is not what I’m considering to be very conducive in taking a moment on my own to experience the deep feelings emerging from those nameless emotional sufferings – nor was it very favorable to embark on a dark trail chasing the necessary information that could potentially lead me to find a loved one whose remains seem to have disappeared without leaving a trace. One thing that felt quite familiar to me was just how rapidly I managed to refrain my emotions from taking over and how pragmatic I immediately became… Ain’t that sad?!? I found it deeply disheartening actually.

I often wondered what my father would have thought of the person that I am, had I ever been closer to him. What would we share if he were to still be alive? Those questions re-emerged when learning about my uncle’s death. I’m not into goodbyes and make-believe, I’ve never been, but waking up from the dead following my heart surgery has forever changed my psyche. I know that. So when my mom told me, “You truly are the last one of your bloodline now that your uncle died”, it had a puzzling resonation within me. A sort of profound awareness of solitude invaded my heart and soul. Not emptiness or something like that, a moment of solitude, something that doesn’t have anything to do with the fear of ending up alone or whatever… just solitude. And with solitude comes introspection, as you are revisiting the different turns you took in the past, the decision you made that led you where you presently are. Have I made the best out of my opportunities? Have I been as far as I wanted to go? Did I craft what I wanted to give life to? Have I loved, really loved? For some people, these interrogations often reflect a depressive state of mind. Not for me, I‘m just musing about life, mine that is. For me, it’s like watching a movie somehow, with moments of “Ah wow”, with laughter, with tears, with indignation, or amazement. What would I want to do, today, that would be enough of a significant scene to be added to my movie reels? It’s especially exciting as I’ve been green-lighted a sequel on February 3rd of last year.

The physical bloodline is still a sacred blessing for many societies and communities. I admire those who have enough faith in the nature of their love to believe they’ll have the ability to equip their kids, not only to face the implacable world they will grow into but to teach them in a way that will have the opportunity to change everything at some point in their lives. Hope is the most beautiful thing there is, but faith is the most powerful gift you can share with others. I guess for me, it all resides in the art that I do, in the letters I’m sending you, in the journals and diaries I’m communing with anyone I’m offered the privilege to connect with… making my bloodline a spiritual one, one that I share with you all. At least, that’s how I see it now. Whatever the future has in store for me or whatever turn I would ultimately decide to take, if we cannot dictate the motion that time sets us on, nor the measure of days we have, we can certainly embrace some of the magic coming our way. And if we feel like there is none, solace comes in the ability we all have to create some wonders of our own…

It’s with a proactive disposition towards trespassing the countless barriers of my existence’s self-limitations that I’m envisioning the day, which is exciting considering that I’m getting back in the studio with the rest of the Long Shadows to explore what the album might be revealing to us…