In terms of facts and things, I was born and raised in Montreal. I wish I could relay some surreal story of having a pet dragon, or that my parents met on the Festival Express, but in the early 80s in order to keep consistent with the dates in my life. In truth, I grew up, got a guitar, learned to play it, and started writing songs inspired by Internet Multitrack Tape Deck, an 8-track program available for free at Cnet.com. So unromantic... But yes, this started with Cnet.com. And so it goes.

But let's fast forward to the summer of 2004, when the first band with any public aspirations was put together. This band was Sire, and by April 2006 we released the Calling for Echoes EP. It was and remains a solid piece of work, and even some people that we've never met agree with that statement.

Soon however, the Sire days were over, and armed with better technology and far better songs than my pre-Sire days, I began to put together a solo album. This album turned from the Brit-rock sound of Sire to stripped back arrangements characterized by lush, layered vocals that have come to define my sound. Perhaps the short but tense Desert Sun epitomizes this best. Even lyrically, it is consistent with the bleak, Siberia-like thematic landscape of the album, desert in the title or not.

Let us turn to this album, recorded in the summer of 2009 at the Treatment Room with Gilles Castilloux. Its songs were written in many countries, and that geographical fact can make for emotive artifact - longing, torment but also hope are strong themes in this album. The opening 100 Year Dream is a piece of naivety that stands as total opposite to the album closer, The Visitor, a song about the process of committing the ambiguity of a long-gone relationship to narrative and history. Along the spectrum stand pieces like The Truthful Three, a song of doubt, paranoia and the need for comfort, and It is Humid and I Miss You, a song about longing inescapable as humidity on a restless night. The album title is taken from a line in Don't Speak too Soon, and is a phrase that speaks to those times when we take a step back in time and space from the storm, once the emotional salience has diminished and look back, sometimes with a frantic, moth-like drive to return, other times with an indifference or even an aversion reserved for the shot that makes the hangover.

Musically, this album evolves from where the last left off. Many songs are stripped back, and vocals and backup vocals drive, drive, drive. Instrumentation was a bit more experimental, in some cases making for a full sound, in others making for a thready tension. In particular, the strings do some good.

Suffice to say, I'm pretty happy with it.