2ish years of being soberish

On drinking & my relationship to booze

This past weekend, I played a really cool festival in Ottawa. All of the other bands on the lineup were great, the sound person was among the better techs I’ve ever worked with, and I was fed some seriously delicious BBQ. I was quite taken by a small basket of harm reduction supplies (masks, ear plugs, condoms, naloxone, etc.) neatly organized in a small plastic basket on the merch stand. And, I was well paid. Dream gig, honestly.

Shortly before going to bed, I hung out with a few musicians outside the beautiful old building in which the whole thing took place.

One of them asked, “who wants to do some drugs?”

I darted my eyes to the ground and shoved my hands in my pockets. Since I stopped drinking roughly two years ago, I struggle to know what to do with my hands at parties and shows. Usually, you can catch me lugging around my blue Nalgene or nursing a Corona Sunbrew (or, better yet, a non-alcoholic Jelly King). Otherwise, my hands are in my pockets. Someone in a jumpsuit came up to me right then and offered kind words about my set. I was happy to be pulled away from the convo.

I cannot do drugs¹ and I do not drink. I’m still exploring the “can’t/don’t” dichotomy and how they colour my not partaking in either activity. I’m not sure whether it changes anything. Regardless, since including alcohol into the folds of my ~sobriety~, I find myself lumping drugsandalcoholic together. They’ve become somewhat inextricable from each other; two things that precipitate my tail being between my legs.

Growing up, there was no alcohol in my house. There are a few folks in my family who have had past struggles with drinking, so I used to operate under the assumption that alcohol was something that made you lose control (bad). In high school and university, however, I discovered that it was a vessel through which I could let go (good). I didn’t particularly enjoy the taste. And my drinking was always a means, never an end. Still, in grades 11 and 12, I would crush a bottle of wine (or two) per weekend at parties. In college, the highlight of my week was my school’s Friday happy hour; picklebacks and double G&Ts galore!

myself and i during first year uni, debating whether or not to have another g&t

The quantity of alcohol that I consumed in my youth is definitely questionable, but I now know that the issue within my relationship to booze has always been qualitative. I didn’t quit drinking two years ago so that I could address the how much; I did so in order to mend the why.

My song “Night Bus”—which I wrote at 18—is a testament to the fact that my motives for drinking have always been the same: I’ve wanted to muster the confidence to 1) connect with the people around me and 2) confess romantic feelings. I had the ability to do these things whilst sober, but they felt impossible when all I was equipped with, otherwise, was a faltering sense of self. So, again, I’ve always appreciated the release that accompanies alcohol. But, I’ve found the line between letting go and getting lost to be increasingly fine. This sentiment became all the more true in 2020. In the early days of the pandemic, I drank—with friends, family, and sometimes by myself—because I didn’t know what else to do. The first lyrics that are recited on my new album are “Friday night, drinking boxed wine, alone in my apartment blurring time”. I wrote that in 2021; I was languishing.

I want to learn how to see drinking as an end in itself, and not a means through which to escape. I’ve tried again and again to change my perspective and cultivate a healthy relationship with alcohol, but, at the moment, I don’t know how to do this. Being a musician makes this debacle all the more complicated. It isn’t uncommon for artists who are just starting out to be paid in drink tickets. Many would guffaw at the idea of getting drunk with their coworkers on the clock during their 9-5. But, in my work environment (i.e. before, during, and especially after concerts), it’s customary and even encouraged. You celebrate the fuck out of a gig if it goes well and you drown your sorrows if it doesn’t. The highs in my career feeling really high and the lows feeling really low have often been predicated on this polarity. When I played SXSW in 2023, I got drunker than I’ve ever been, and in front of my colleagues and peers, no less. I was celebrating the fact that I was in Austin under the guise of playing music, sure, but my drinking-in-excess that night ultimately stemmed from a myopic desire to fit in (and the belief that I didn’t). I’ve received reassurance that my behaviour wasn’t “that bad”; I wasn’t a sad drunk in the way that I was in university. But it was still embarrassing. Shortly after SXSW, during a particularly anxious summer, I challenged myself to a month of sobriety. I wanted to examine not only my whys around alcohol, but also if and how my life would improve without it. I haven’t drank since.

Yes, I’ve been poured a flute of something celebratory here and taken a sip of a friend’s beer there (hence the “ish” in “soberish”). Otherwise, though, I’ve been more or less sober for two years. It isn’t a coincidence, I think, that during this time I have reaped the benefits of transitioning, doing therapy, and being in a loving long-term relationship. I just haven’t felt the need to rely on alcohol as a crutch, basically. To put it plainly, it’s been hard to find a reason to drink. To put it plainly, I haven’t wanted to let go.

Here are my sobriety field notes:

• Concerts feel way louder than they used to. Same with bars. I’m way more likely to lose my voice in these spaces because I don’t know how to project in such a way—while speaking—so that my voice will stay on top of the noise.

• My memory is clearer. I like being able to remember the entirety of my night. It’s very nice (and useful) to pinpoint who said what and with whom I gossiped. By extension, I feel significantly less anxious the day after a party/show/event.

• When I share that I don’t drink, people will either carry on as normal or their eyebrows will curl upwards and their voices will soften as they ask why and if I’m okay. The latter happens a surprising amount. When I share that I am not sober for reasons pertaining to alcoholism, people will look relieved.

• I really miss the whimsy that comes with being tipsy. Especially in the context of dating. It’s a bit harder to tap into playfulness than before. I think I’m a bit more serious than I used to be.

• 90% of the time, it’s cheaper to go out. However, there are restaurants and bars that will charge you just as much for a non-alcoholic beer and/or a mocktail as they will the real thing. This is especially true in Toronto.

• I love to leave parties early.

• To return to my aforementioned quality/quantity dichotomy: I do think that I go out a lot less than I used to, but, when I go out, I have a much better time. Everything just feels much more intentional.

• And by extension, being sober doesn’t affect my ability to be myself in social situations. In fact, I think I’m sharper and wittier and more grounded than I used to be. But again, I’ve transitioned, I’m therapized, and I’ve cultivated a sense of self-love for the first time in my life. So… chicken or egg?

I suspect—and hope!—that one day I’ll be able to drink again in a way that feels moderate (even emotionally speaking) and healthy. But until then, I will stick to my trusty Nalgene.

---

Other stuff

I am so deeply pleased to share that Blurring Time has been long-listed for the Polaris Music Prize. I’ve looked forward to the nomination announcements since I was in high school; being included this year is a real “pinch-me” moment. And boy howdy, am I ever in good company! Fingers crossed I’ll make the short list, too :)

Come see the band and I on tour this summer and fall! Here’s where we’ll be —

7/03 - Sherbrooke, QC | Sherblues Festival
7/18-20 - Guelph, ON | Hillside Festival
7/25 - North Bay, ON | River & Sky Festival
8/02 - Bolton, QC | The Thirsty Boot
8/14 - Hubbards, NS | The Shore Club ^
8/15 - Hubbards, NS | The Shore Club ^ (SOLD OUT)
9/23 - Winnipeg, MB | The Handsome Daughter
9/25 - Calgary, AB | MacEwan Hall %
9/26 - Edmonton, AB | Winspear Centre %
9/28 - Lake County, BC | Creekside Theatre % (SOLD OUT)
9/29 - Lake County, BC | Creekside Theatre %
10/01 - Victoria, BC | Royal Theatre %
10/03 - Vancouver, BC | Vogue Theatre % (SOLD OUT)
10/10 - Toronto, ON | Danforth Music Hall % (SOLD OUT)
10/11 - Ottawa, ON | Bronson Centre %

^ supporting Tim Baker
% supporting Dan Mangan

Get ur tix here. I’m excited to announce more dates ~elsewhere~ soon, too!

---

• What I’m listening to —> Natural Light by Dan Mangan, Hide & Seek by BELOVED, Clean by Soccer Mommy, “Nettles” by Ethel Cain, Carrie and Lowell (10th Anniversary Edition) by Sufjan Stevens, the new Burs album (y’all aren’t ready), and Warm Soup At The Big Rain by Liam Cole

• What I’m watching —> I’m currently obsessed with a show from the 2010s called Millionaire Matchmaker. It’s so bad that it’s good, you know what I mean? I also loved watching my brother Charlie kill it on Overcompensating last month

• What I’m reading —> I’m halfway thru Evenings & Weekends by Oisín McKenna. I’ve been in a huge reading slump (too much time on screens) so lmk if you have any recos!

• What I’m eating —> My nonna made me a delicious fish dish when I was home last week. Noah and I are heading to Vancouver Island in a few weeks for a little getaway and I can’t wait to eat some suppppaaa fresh fish there, too. My friend Jaymes and I talked about “The Big One”—the catastrophic earthquake that’s supposed to hit the west coast within the next 50 or so years— recently. I’m petrified that it’s going to happen while I’m there. I wouldn’t worry, but I got stung by a scorpion on my last vacation. Between the scorp and visa gate, I think I deserve a karmic return for the rest of Q2…

1. I liked MDMA the handful of times I did it, but I’m not really a partier. My issue is more with weed. The third time I ever smoked (at age 15 I think?), I experienced a psychotic break/ego death. I cannot quite describe the degree to which this was a terrifying experience. Imagine the most sinister panic attack that you can, then add a side of de-personalization, and finish it off with some de-realization for dessert. Every time I’ve smoked since, my reaction to weed has been progressively worse. After a near-death experience whilst high in 2018, I decided to never try again. And it’s a shame, really. I think I could do with something to chill me out a bit. Ah well.