Fred Eaglesmith: The songwriter

Recently, our editor, Sarah Thomson, and I drove to Port Dover, a small town on the banks of Lake Erie, to interview Fred Eaglesmith: songwriter, singer, guitarist, and farm boy gone wild. Because he refuses to kowtow to suits and their peculiar ideas of sharing work and revenue (you do the work, I’ll take the revenue), Fred has been labelled, or dismissed, as a rebel. I don’t see it that way. Fred is talented, honest, and, along with his band, hard working. There are no short cuts with Fred, and whenever possible, my wife and I bring our girls, who are 6 and 4, to see him play. There are Dead heads, Jimmy Buffet has Parrot heads, but we’re Fred heads. Fred is an artist, and his shows are delightfully uplifting. On the day of our interview, Sarah picked me up, and our Fred-venture (a phrase coined by Blake LeVie, Fred head) began. When not on the road, Fred lives in small building right on Port Dover’s pier. We arrived two hours early, and Fred was in the bathtub. (It’s funny, now.) He was gracious, and Sarah and I went for coffee while he dried and dressed. While his place was being tidied by Meaghan Clarke, who works in Fred’s nearby office, we started the meeting on a bench overlooking the lake. It was nice, but I had left home without a coat and was freezing, so Fred brought us on the bus, his home away from home. Fred and his terrific band (Willie P. Bennett, Roger Marin, Darcy Yates, and Dan Walsh) travel across North America in their renovated bus and play 200 – 300 gigs a year. The front half has bench seats that face each other, and to prevent arguments, there’s a piece of paper taped to a window with the ascending ranks of poker hands written on it. The back half is sleeping quarters. Perhaps because they are essentially cattle cars for humans, buses often have a cold, sterile, unwelcoming feel to them. Not this one; it was comfortable and well lived in. I would have been content to remain there, but Meaghan gave Fred the “all clean” signal and we moved into Fred’s shack. Along with a woodstove, it has unparalleled views of Lake Erie, and the boats that work on the water. “Its the best place on earth,” Fred said of his modest home and it’s surreal serenity. After an hour, the phone rang, and Fred told Meaghan everything was fine, thanks. We speculated – accurately – that she had placed the emergency call to get rid of us, if need be. We laughed and stayed (and stayed). Fred was open, direct, insightful, and for the next nine hours, a generous host. When asked about his song- writing skills, Fred attributed it to a higher order and spoke of others who have “the gift” being unable to explain it. He did say, however, that he writes all the time. Fred is a wordsmith of the highest order, and his songs are funny, sentimental, ironic, metaphorical, and hip. His music makes you laugh out loud, shut up and think, or join in. The anthem, ^Time To A Get a Gun~, gets stuck in your head, and you find yourself singing it in places you shouldn’t. A haunting epic, ^Me and Esther~, can leave you dead quiet. ^Crazier~ is the comical grieve of a man who pines for his ex and hopes the new girl doesn’t mind some outrageous role playing: Could you act a little crazier? / throw something at the wall? / something through the window? / anything at all. This old motel room is losing its view / could you act a little crazier? / just like she used to. Everyone who learns ^I Like Trains~ is a campfire hero, instantly. A song of weakening defiance, ^I Ain’t Ever Givin’~ In (anytime soon), has been inadvertently twisted by my little girls into, “I never get it in.” Steam is concision at its best. Fred owns his record label, and the rights to his songs. It’s easy to see why music industry types are salivating to take over Fred, and he said he’s been offered a lot of money to sell (out). He won’t, so they call him a rebel, but he’s a Buddhist. On stage, and in our interview, Fred talked about studying Buddhism. “To depend on others for salvation is negative, but to depend on oneself is positive,” said the Buddha, and Fred adheres to independence religiously. He has built solar panels, a wind mill, a hydro generator, and taken his farm, where his wife and kids live, completely off the electricity grid. Fred talked about the hydro generator he built in the creek running through his farm, and said he’d like to perfect the prototype and help provide electricity to third world villages. He was matter-of-fact and self-deprecating discussing these accomplishments, but animated talking about his kids, and his band. Later in the evening Fred played an eclectic assortment of music he likes. I’ve since ordered a Mickey Newbury CD from Cheapies, an independent Hamilton store that carries Fred. When Sarah and I (finally) left, it was dark and cold. Fred gave me a coat, and all the Fred heads agree; it’s a great gift. We see Fred and his band whenever possible. At a recent show, a fan sported a t-shirt that read Get Fred, Spread Fred. Indeed, get a Fred Eaglesmith CD, and listen to it a few times. If you get Fred, or if Fred gets you, tell a friend. His web site is easy to find. It’s www.fredeaglesmith.com

Photo Credit: fredeaglesmith.com