In a greasy spoon called ‘The Elvis’, on Queen street near the Drake, I bumped into a friend of mine over breakfast. He didn’t seem himself that morning, more cheerful than usual. I asked what was up, and he told me he was leaving in a van the next day for a plot of land he had bought in Panama, and — oh by the way — would I like to come?
It was off the cuff, delivered with a laugh, but genuine. And it dug deep. I didn’t take him up on it, but I did go home and write a song called ‘The Road to Panama’.
About a decade later I left on a motorcycle to scratch that itch, all the way to Panama and back. That became my real life ‘Road to Panama’.
This album is not that story. It is really the space between those two points: the idea of the journey and the actual journey. Eight meditations from that decade that went by so fast, and one outlier from an earlier era. It’s pretty grown up. Or growing up. Or maybe it’s just a collection of songs I thought up. You decide.
One day I’ll tell the story of the motorcycle journey. Meanwhile, this is the road that leads to it. Enjoy.