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When I woke up on the morning of December 29th, I had a laundry-list of tasks to wrap up for the end of the year. Without wanting to try too-hard that day, because I had told myself I will be having a stress-free and relaxing Christmas and New Year, I slowly scooped my own blend of espresso and vanilla hazelnut beans into my french press. The kettle boiled. I poured the water. I used a butter knife to stir-up the coffee-grinds in the bottom french press. After waiting for ten minutes I sauntered up the stairs into the loft where my modest home studio resides and sat in my very-uncomfortable gamer chair. I placed my coffee in front of my keyboard and turned on my computer. While I slowly sipped my morning cup of coffee; warm, black-as-night, and covered in a layer of beautiul-brown-bubbles, I logged into some of my social media apps in an effort to delay doing any actual work, I saw a message from a friend of mine whom I have become quite fond of during the separation of societies. The message read as follows:

“Having a shitty morning. You should cover Navajo rug and make me feel slightly better….”

So I did. I no longer believe in trying to cultivate some sort of brand which adheres to any rules of, “the way things are supposed to be done.” Instead, now I just make things for my friends to make them happy.

It was only after releasing this video and sending it to my friend that I even realized that Mr. Ian Tyson has passed away. I never knew Ian Tyson. I knew a few of his songs, but beyond that nothing else. From what I’ve seen on the internet, he was a rodeo rider from Toronto who moved west, broke his ankle, learned to play guitar, and the rest is history. Since I’m not an imbecile, I know nothing on the internet or in the media would actually tell me anything about Ian Tyson so I didn’t even bother digging too deep. My friend though… he knew him well. He knew him on a personal level and has spent time with Mr. Tyson. My friend posted an article linking to the Calgary Herald. You can read that article by clicking here. He then followed the article with this wonderful obituary:

“..they forgot to mention that Ian was a cantankerous old coot, a lover of cheap whiskey and bullshit campfire stories, and one of the most genuine, real, unvarnished, rough around the edges, beautiful, loving men ever to walk the alberta plains.”

Amen. May your friend Mr. Ian Tyson Rest in peace. Thank you for the music.

IAN TYSON • IN REMEMBERANCE