Music is powerful, it’s universal and transcends all cultural differences; it’s one of the things we all have in common. Not everyone likes the same music but there is music for every emotion. When I’m happy or want to feel happy, I listen to music that sounds cheerful and happy to me. When I’m sad I tend to like music that has a sad tone with lyrics that are relatable to how I feel.
As a child growing up in rural Manitoba, my source of music was very isolated; I listened to what my parents listened too. I loved The Beatles, I used to sing along to their songs while I made my bed in the morning, and again when I went to sleep. I had their greatest hits tape in my walkman player (remember those?) for the longest time. My dad was a drummer for a few band’s in the past, and toured Canada with them, never making any real money but just doing what he loved to do. As a child I used to dream of being in a band, even took the time to draw us on stage during a big show. When I was eight years old my dad bought me my first drum set, and I was so excited. I played it all the time and he showed me how to do a few rolls, and keep rhythm with the beat.
Through elementary school we learned how to play the recorder for music class. In grades seven and eight however, this changed to a much more exciting instrument. The school had purchased enough classical guitars for an entire class, as well as a few new electric guitars and bass’s. It captivated me; the guitar, that is. I even started taking lessons outside of class with a personal guitar teacher. His name was Dennis, and he was a cheerfully old, bald, man who really knew how to play the guitar. I continued taking lessons through the beginning of high school, where I would finally live out my dream as a child; to play in a rock and roll band.
Chance played guitar, and James played the drums. They were both inspired to start a band after they went to a Good Charlotte concert in Winnipeg, they went out and bought their first ever instruments. Chance and I were on the same bus that went to school, so we talked and hung out a few times, and he knew that I played guitar and was taking lessons. He asked me to come to a practice to jam and I couldn’t refuse. It was in Chance’s basement which was crowded with all of the equipment in the room and was the first band practice I had ever been to. The jam went great and I added some new parts to some songs they wrote and they loved them. After that I was practically a part of the band. We thought we sounded good already, but our sound was missing two things: vocals, and bass. We asked friends and people around school if they’d want to sing but nobody jumped up to the plate. One of us had to try singing and learn as we went along, it just so happened to be me.
One of our first shows was at an old church transformed into a youth center called The Basement beside our high school. The show went alright; I thought the crowd liked us, but they seemed somewhat unimpressed in comparison to some of the better acts. It might have helped our sound if we had found a bass player by that point. Something good came out of playing that show though; we finally found a bass player. His name was Deagan, a quirky fellow, but talented on the bass. Our band was finally complete and we spent weeks practicing so we’d be better next time.
One of the things we wanted to improve was our name, Fatal Intent. It sounded kind of tough so we liked it and was better than our last name ToneDeff (people thought we were actually tone deaf), but we wanted something that sounded slick, simple, and memorable. We found it unexpectedly. James and I were just walking to my house for practice, talking about band names. He thought a cool name would be Alchemy. I told him it needs something in front of it to sound complete, like ‘Days of’. In a flash, we were ‘Days of Alchemy’. We were surprised how fast the name just popped up, but to my knowledge this is a common story of many bands. When weeks of practicing turn into months, and we rocked our next show, we wanted to be huge. “How do groups get huge?” we thought; merchandising. We put our name on two different pins, t-shirts, and even socks. The band was great, I thought anyways. It didn’t matter that much to me what others thought, because we were just a group of guys hanging out playing music. Some of my best times with the band were when we weren’t even playing. We would go out for breakfast before gigs, went camping, paint balling and became the best of friends.
But as we all grew older, Chance and James graduated from high school, and their passion for the band started to die out. They were more interested in drinking and going to clubs on the weekends rather than practicing. We all still talk but a part of me died when the band did. My childhood dream was fading as my future became a task of finding a well paying job after high school, rather than doing what I love like my dad used to do. My parents stressed that I needed a career and not a hobby. I do however; still play my acoustic guitar on occasion. I go through phases but there’s no question I don’t play as much as I used to. And that makes me sad. So I’ll listen to music that speaks to my sadness, and writing lyrics I relate with, encompassing myself with sadness. When I want to feel happy, I will listen accordingly. Music is universal. There’s always another day to pick of the guitar.
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