Gatekeepers of Love vol. 1: Pasta on the Moon

Ford Madox Brown, The Hayfield (1855-6)

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Hi friends. It’s been a while.

Here’s a piece of writing for the release of my friend Owen’s new live album. I’m going to start writing for the artists I know and appreciate, because it’s a thoughtful way to share their work, and in the dystopian state of the music industry, it probably couldn’t hurt.

I hope you enjoy, and I hope you and your close ones are well.

Love,

IV

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It was the summer of 2015, and Owen Davies fronted a hot-shit band, The Evangelists. They were jammy misfits, and for their brief incorporation, should not have played together so well.

Wisely, they went to a studio and made a live album. I heard some of the unmixed recordings when I visited Owen in Toronto that fall, trading newborn versions of my tracks from Amateur, smoking in the early hours of the morning, falling asleep on his broken futon.

The Age of Aquarius donned while the earth tilted slightly off its axis, and Owen made and released other albums. I pestered him about the Evangelist record until he texted me a Dropbox link in the winter of 2021. By this time we had both moved to and away from Montréal after two years as neighbours; I ran off to rural Nova Scotia, and Owen to St. John's, Newfoundland. The wind blew east.

I donned my headphones, lit a Winter Depression cigarette (30% CBD-dominant sativa, 70% pipe tobacco), and took a walk in the endless snow-covered pastureland surrounding my mother in law's house, whose basement I was living in.

Right away I noticed how much younger Owen sounded, puffed up with rooster-like bravado, his vocal patina thousands of cigarettes lighter than I'd become accustomed to. The sound-image was six years old. Owen and I and the rest of the world were younger then.

Navigating over a fallen tree half-covered by a snowdrift, I wordlessly reminded myself to accept mortality.

I used to sing parts of these songs to tease Owen, belting out "Caroline" with the appropriate strain of yearning. I smiled and the wind pushed tears down my cheeks, leaving frozen salt-stains.

Once the record finished I pulled off my gloves and called Owen. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him and how proud of him I was. He laughed. We satirized our respective living arrangements. I asked him what the title was, and he said Pasta on the Moon.

As I write this it's now the end of July. I listened to Pasta a second time while mowing the lawn of my new domicile this morning, and daydreamed that I was interviewing Owen on local-access television. We were sitting in comfortable leather chairs around a circular wooden table with an ashtray in the centre.

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IV: Hello, and welcome back. Tonight I'll be speaking to a good friend of mine, someone who I’ve played music with for years and who I respect as a great songwriter, Owen Davies. He just released a live album called Pasta on the Moon, which was recorded six years ago with his band The Evangelists. Thanks for coming Owen.

OD: Hey, thanks for having me. Pretty crazy you got this job. You're sure we're allowed to smoke in here?

IV: Yeah, it's all good. JTI sponsors the network, so you can take a couple cartons if you want.

OD: Wow, okay.

IV: So, the last time we saw each other was was back in Montréal, after I gave you that chair that didn't fit inside the U-Haul. Did you end up bringing it to Newfoundland?

OD: No, it's pretty funny, we actually got rid of most of our stuff. We had to fit everything in the [Nissan] Micra with [our cat] Minnie, so basically we just brought our clothes.

IV: Dang.

OD: Yeah. I wish I had found a way to keep my amp, but you know, these things can be replaced.

IV: Kijiji is your friend. I bet there’s some wacky gear on that island. How's the summer been in St. John's?

OD: Oh man, it's pretty wonderful. Newfoundland is a really beautiful place. I've been doing a lot of the hiking trails, and there are some nice ponds to swim in too. It feels like there's plenty to explore.

IV: I'm glad to hear it. So, I’ll ask the obvious question: why did you sit on this album for so long?

OD: Well, usually the end of one project spurs on another, but for this one we just tinkered with it for years. I'm glad we did, because it evolved into something much more refined than the original recordings.

IV: Did you end up doing a lot to it?

OD: Yeah, we did quite a bit of overdubbing and were pretty particular with the performances. We also brought in some other players; saxophone, pedal steel, and a few different singers. A lot of care was put into the production and mixing of it, too. It's sort of cool that we took our time, because those contributions probably wouldn't have happened otherwise.

IV: For sure. I have a hard time sitting on unreleased stuff for very long, I don't like how it gives me time to be critical once my perspective has shifted. Has your relationship to the songs changed at all?

OD: It's definitely strange to release music you're so far removed from. I think I have a better appreciation for that whole moment now. Playing in a band with your friends is a really special thing, but I'm not sure I had the same level of gratitude at the time.

IV: Yeah, time will do that. Speaking of, let's say in 40 years the Evangelists gain a cult following and go on tour, but you're all super old. What are you wearing?

OD: Oh, what a dream. I always envisioned us as actual televangelists, with the white suits and ties, you know? Maybe a fedora or two...

IV: Nice. Okay, here's a bit of trivia: on the record you mention Peter Jackson cigarettes, but I've always known you to smoke Pall Mall blue.

OD: Quite the detective over here. I think I was on the PJ reds train at the time, but it also had the benefit of rhyming with "not enough then I can grab some".

IV: I don't know what I'm going to do, I guess I'll smoke a Pall Mall blue.

OD: Hah.

IV: So, this album is the first release on Gatekeepers of Love, which is a low-key label slash collective thing you've been wanting to start for a while. What are your hopes for it?

OD: I'm really excited about it. I want to use it as a way to build community and support one another. Looking for creative ways to promote and present the music of friends seems pretty important, and I'm glad to take some ownership in that. I think anything that propels you to create is a positive.

IV: Great. Maybe I can write something for it, like this.

OD: Like what?

IV: Oh, nothing. Well, that's all the time we have tonight. Owen, thanks so much for stopping by.

OD: Hey, thanks for having me. This is great.

IV: Pasta on the Moon is available on all the usual suspects, go have a listen and tell somebody how it made you feel. Until next time, I'm Isaac Vallentin, thanks for watching.