14 Songs and an Overwhelmed American

Apologies in advance if this one runs a little long — there’s been a lot on my mind.

Let’s start with February. I didn’t have to travel, but work kept me busy. Even so, I managed to write 14 brand-new songs, meeting the February Album Writing Month (FAWM) quota. It was a challenge, but I’m both amazed that I got that many songs out and proud of quite a few of them!

For example, songs like “This is The Bad One,” “Shallow,” “Have you Read the News,” “And God Laughs,” and “Burn the Ships” are already part of the live lineup.  I’ll be demoing these in true studio form over the next couple of months, and I suspect they’ll form the foundation of a new album—likely set for release in early 2026.

In addition to that, an old friend reached out about a potential songwriting collaboration. He’s a lyricist looking for someone to put music to his words. While I usually think of myself as a lyricist and songwriter first, I’m excited to approach this as an experiment—finding meaning in someone else’s words and composing music to bring them to life.

So much fulfillment and excitement about art.

But of course, there’s more going on in the world.

Because of the way I’ve lived my life and the choices I’ve made, I don’t always think of myself strictly as an American. Maybe an internationalist? I don’t know. I do, however, spend a great deal of time in Canada—especially in Alberta.

I’m writing this on March 6, on my way home from my latest trip to Edmonton. As always, it was wonderful to be back in YEG, and I got to spend quality time with some very dear friends.

However, throughout my time in Canada, the weight of the ongoing situation caused by the occupant of the Oval Office loomed large. The long-standing, warm, and trusted relationship between Americans and Canadians feels shattered. Those of us on the American side with deep ties north of the border feel bewildered, heartbroken, and embarrassed. My Canadian friends, in turn, expressed feelings of betrayal, anger, and defiance (elbows up!).

It’s hard to see how this will resolve. This doesn’t feel temporary — it feels like something fundamental has shifted.

I don’t have answers. I’m not that smart. I just have experiences and relationships with people who are smart and perceptive. Over the past several weeks, we’ve spent a lot of time talking, trying to make sense of it all. My conversations in Edmonton this week helped me process some of it — to offer apologies and perspective on behalf of at least one American, and to ensure that, despite the turmoil, individual relationships remain strong.

And yes, I may have glanced at real estate listings while I was there.

One afternoon, I spent time at the Strathcona County complex, which serves as the municipal hall, the public library, and a hub for community resources. It also hosts art exhibitions, and I was completely enthralled by a collection of paintings by a Calgary artist named Kari Lagon.

The paintings shared a common theme — cloudy early mornings and late afternoons on the open Alberta prairie. That gray, dusky atmosphere, a sense of foreboding, but always with a hint of light. I’ve stood on those hills and seen those skies, and these paintings transported me right back. I was absolutely transfixed.

So, let me share one of those paintings and its title. Perhaps you’ll find in it what I did.

– Chris