the ideal accompanist with whom I could tour and record. How would I be able to find a duo partner in Toronto? Once again fortune was my friend, and through the University of Toronto guitar teacher, Jeffrey McFadden, I was introduced to Michael Savona. A good-looking thirty-seven-year-old with a wife and two rambunctious little kids, Michael was a fine classical player who was also experienced in the rock world, playing electric guitar as well. Just as important, he had a good singing voice.
I called Srdjan to apologize and to explain the practical reasons why, unfortunately, our duo was not going to be able to continue. Having to fly him up to Canada for every concert or television show that came along would have been impossible. I deeply regretted disappointing him, but Srdjan understood that besides the logistics of our living in different countries, the hassles with work permits and the inability to rehearse and record new material would cause problems. Srdjan and I had a different vision for our duo. He was pushing to do more folk cover songs and “entertain,” whereas I felt more driven to create new, original repertoire. In a sense, our chapter together had run its natural course.
Srdjan and I still keep in touch. He has formed a duo that plays every weekend in restaurants and for special parties, and on occasion he happily performs in his beloved homeland of Croatia on occasion.
Over the summer of 2011 Michael familiarized himself with the repertoire I had been playing with Srdjan, and we started to record some of my new “Canadiana” pieces. “Death Divine,” a powerful song I had composed right after losing my father, morphed into “Aurora Borealis” as I decided to concentrate on creating more Canadian-inspired repertoire. I had experienced the mystical Northern Lights while on tour in Saskatchewan, and my melody and lyrics combined with Peter’s magnificent 120-track score captured in music the majesty of this natural phenomenon of light in the northern skies. Peter referred to one challenging section of my vocal as my “Sarah Brightman moment.” While I could never come close to being like Sarah, I revered her as one of my special musical muses.
I located a Cree teacher at the Native Canadian Centre of Toronto and hired him to translate some of my lyrics into his language. Samme Hunter taught me how to pronounce the words so that I could sing the chorus in his beautiful language. Wawate, the Cree word for the Northern Lights, was so perfect in its onomatopoeic simplicity. I imagined my beloved poet Longfellow must have been familiar with Cree when he named the fireflies in his Hiawatha poem “wah-wah-taysee.”
Soon I had composed another song, with lyrics that evoked the landscapes of Muskoka and Lake Superior that I had always loved.
Silver birch, scent of pine, lakes and forests, land of mine
Silver birch, harvest moons, golden maples, calls of loons
Silver birch, morning haze, flaming sumach summer days,
Silver birch, winter night, silent snowflakes, white on white….
It seemed appropriate to dedicate this song to those internationally renowned painters whose art decorated most Canadian classrooms (if only in reproduction), and to me symbolized Canadian art: the Group of Seven.
In a tribute to Canada’s First Nations people, I used for the bridge “Nehiyawaskiya,” a significant word, meaning “aboriginal lands,” that had been taught to me by an off-duty police officer I had randomly located by telephone near an Ojibwa reserve in northern Ontario.
For this evocative chorus Peter was able to layer multiple takes of my voice in the style of the Irish singer Enya, whom we both adored for her unique, creative music. Enya’s albums usually take several years of constant work before their release, but somehow Peter and I managed to complete our album of fifteen original songs in less than two years.
Unless one witnesses the complex orchestration process involved in layering the instruments and creating all the sound textures for such songs as “Silver Birch,” its sophistication can be lost on the casual listener. There are multiple percussion tracks, some of which involve layers of my guitar, played using the tambora technique. As well, there are various drums. The two of us even jumped up and down on the floor of the drum room at Zolis Audio to add special weight to one track!
Multiple instruments, choirs, reverb chambers, and specialized electronic effects make this record one of Peter’s most masterful productions. Even a full symphony orchestra could never reproduce some of these ethereal sounds. Vangelis is another composer of this genre whom we greatly admire. If one listens to his score to the film 1492, it is easy to recognize the musical influences that inspired us.
I am fortunate, however, that my songs and instrumentals have a special element that sets them apart, even from the work of Enya and Vangelis. My songs have the addition of what I consider to be the world’s most beautiful instrument: the classical guitar — my instrument, which my producer always insists we feature at every possible opportunity.
Peter was still able to tap into the magic that he had used to create the Seven Journeys: Music for the Soul and the Imagination album, and we were both intent upon making the best music of our lives. Nothing was too much work for either of us. When inspiration struck, I would obsess over a melody or lyric until I felt it was perfect, and when Peter was “in the zone,” he would stay up night after night, searching for the exact blend of sounds he had in his head. Much of this creative process involved trial and error as even subtle additions or subtractions of sounds can alter the final blend. Never had my guitar sounded so resonant, nor my voice so expressive. I loved the recording process, the way I could manifest a timeless piece of music from what had started out as one small spark of an idea, purely in my imagination. Nobody before had ever “gotten” my musical vision the way Peter did, and time after time he far surpassed my expectations.
The technology was extraordinarily complicated. The tools of the trade had become overwhelmingly complex, and not being very technical myself I could sympathize with some of my past arrangers who had used paper and pencil. The great Maurice Jarre had expressed his frustrations to me, and he hired young computer whiz kids to collaborate when needed. With Peter Bond I had a brilliant producer, engineer, and collaborator in every way, and we sensed that some predestined soul connection empowered our creative process.
My friend Ron Korb, a talented flutist who in 2016 would be nominated for a Grammy, came into the studio to add the sound of his Western and ethnic flutes to many of my songs, and at some points, Peter sang harmony lines, just as he had done on “Reflections” from Seven Journeys. His voice harmonizing with mine added a special colour that would have been difficult to replicate. We were off on another musical journey together, and the making of The Return … To Canada with Love consumed our days.
In November Michael and I played ten concerts from Oakville to Victoria, including a couple of appearances at the Zoomer show in Vancouver and a few dates promoted by my longtime friend, Ben Werbski. We enjoyed staying at Ben’s oceanside house, walking his Labrador dog along the driftwood-strewn beaches, and through the Emily Carr landscape of mossy, treed pathways and dark overhanging branches. Our new duo was off to a good start, we both took pleasure in the warm audience reception and scenic ferry rides, and Michael seemed to enjoy being back on the West Coast where he and his wife had once lived.
12
Canada, My Canada
Although I had not yet finished the work that needed to be done on the new album, I returned to Florida in December of 2012 to escape the Canadian winter. While getting settled in Palm Beach the previous year, I had been introduced by my film producer friend, Gene Mascardelli, to a smart and charming woman who ran estates, including those of Mariah Carey and Rush Limbaugh, and who was occasionally a private chef for celebrities, including Sean Connery. She helped organize my furniture and clothes, unpacked all my boxes, painted my house, and even stood in for me by completing an online driving course I had been required to take after inadvertently running a red light! The woman had been tremendously valuable in myriad ways, and before long we were chatting away as though we had known each other for years.
My sister and mother came down for the holidays, and we spent a happy Christmas day at my new friend’s Palm Beach Lakes home with her elderly mother and three orange cats. She had prepared a feast for us and regaled us with