It may not seem possible that the origin of the universe stems from an Indian Reservation in Manitoba, Canada, but, for this story, it does.

Since I was a young man living on the Peguis First Nation, I felt a calling for something cosmic and universal. A great feeling.

At first I was told the feeling was a longing for a higher power. My grandfathers were all preachers and perhaps my feelings were the same as theirs. I would later discover my wholeness to come from the spirit of music and songs rather than any religious spirituality.

In the beginning, music was presented to me as a form of grief counselling. A method of delivering doctrine that I no longer align myself with. It was played quietly, sombrely, in a way that didn’t require speed, flash or volume. Not to offend or disrupt. Only to serve.

I have always felt the world beyond the confines of the reservation. It called to me. From an early age, I was told to make my way to it by any means necessary. To make my way to the city and make an impact upon arrival.

Maybe my purpose or calling was just the push of wishful parents. A hope that I would get to see what they could only dream of.

I’ve experienced a lot of life since my time living on the Peguis First Nation. Growing up in the country provided me a great foundation of community. I have witnessed the good and bad that lives within that community, as well.

It’s comforting how there’s always a bit of where I’m from everywhere I go. It’s interesting how love is constant. Whether it’s being lost or found. I’ve met a lot of people and they’ve shared how my music and stories make them feel. A lot of us are driving the same highways and backroads to get home to those we love. We’ve seen families separate. We’ve lost fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters. Children. A lot of us have lost those we care about to addictions and mental health challenges. Weddings, graduations, births and funerals. These are the constants in a small town. These are the places we can feel love the most. These are still the things I see when the lights go down in the after hours.

Did I ever see myself at the Grand Ole Opry or singing with Willie? The truth is, I didn’t. I dreamed proportionate to the understanding of my life and surroundings at the time. Even still to this day. I wanted to play an instrument and perform at the open air hall during my community’s annual celebration. I wanted to be a singer who performed at the Times Change(d) High and Lonesome Club in Winnipeg, Manitoba.

Maybe it was all a dead man’s dream.

I feel like a spaceman who asked to see beyond the horizon. I asked to see the moon and stars. I willingly left a place I love to seek help in going further. I’ve traveled really far from my point of origin and gathered more understanding of how life works.

I feel we are about to arrive at a new destination with my music. Some place bigger than I could have fathomed. I have a following now. I have the support system in place both professionally and personally to succeed at the highest, most intense level.

My experience has shown me this means the beginning of another journey. Maybe there is no arrival. Just a continuum of experiences and exploration for more that replicates the good and less that brings about the bad.

I’m aware of what I’m inviting. Some spend their whole life chasing a dream and end up not knowing what to do with it when it arrives. My search and desire for more could disrupt the homeostasis of everything I have now. Maybe I should stop while I’m still ahead?

It’s been revealed to me that not everyone will be able to join me on this journey. It’s been disruptive and lonely at times. It’s taken so much time to get to the place we’re at now. Throwing into question that if I go, is the home that raised me no longer my own? If I stay, would I just end up leaving anyway?

My place in the musical landscape is clearer now. I am a friend and ally to many peers that I admire. I am a celebrated winner of our highest musical distinctions. I am fulfilled doing something that I really love. I have less to prove and more to share. My upbringing taught me to harbour these accomplishments and not be overly celebratory in fear of retaliation for how it made others feel. That means to hide your light, so it never shines in the eyes of others. I’ve seen what my light can materialize when I let it shine without shame or fear. I’ve stood in joy and let it carry me to a place where I feel pride and purpose in my walk. I don’t need to apologize for doing well or place a throttle on how grand we can become. It’s time to leave these reservations in the past.

My vision is bigger than ever because there is still quite a distance to go before my music gives me the voice I believe will make real impact and change in the world. This is going to require action and visibility. A bolder, louder sound with more piercing honesty and vulnerability.

I am at the entryway of a whole new dimension and to push through, the path that transports us will need to be one that bridges my songwriting and musical ability.

For that I’ve enlisted the help of a crew that includes Liam Duncan producing and my touring band playing all the songs for me.

Further From the Country is a recounting of things I’ve experienced in my place of origin and in my travels since then. It leans into every influence rather than shuttering them. It tells of things I was told not to talk about. It says things about myself that I thought I was doing others a favour keeping hidden. It peeks back at things that used to break me so profoundly but now I am strong enough to live with. In reality, it’s these things that provide the greatest healing and connection. It is my responsibility to continue speaking about them.

This album is of great speed, flash and volume.

To see the world I’ve dreamt of will require me to travel further from every comfort I’ve ever known. Further from safety and proclivity. That’s what great art does.

I am ready to take my stories even further into the world.

Further from the country.