wake up … it’s Laundry Day.

some habits take years to catch up with us if we ignore them. laundry takes a week and a half.

this album was built on that rhythm: early mornings, repetition, staying with something long enough to see it through.

I made it mostly in solitude, in the space between the rest of my life. in the heart of a city swirling with people and activity, it gave me peace and direction.

it’s out now everywhere:

• Spotify

• Apple Music

• YouTube Music

• Tidal

and if you’re in NYC, join me tonight at the delancey to celebrate.

fred

“there is one rule in the garden; you must give more than you take.” –Alan Chadwick

folks, the date is fast approaching: “Laundry Day” releases on may 8, and I’m throwing a release party in the lower east side.

RSVP here—would love to celebrate with you!

independent + harmonious

my love for brazilian music has opened up a number of unexpected doors—one of which has been joining the US-Brazil Chamber of Commerce as a young professional member.

beyond the usual networking, the chamber hosts regular political and economic summits to keep members up to date on current affairs in Brazil.

and for me, they’ve become a useful counterweight—professional events that contextualize what began as a cultural relationship.

at one such summit earlier this month, a panelist pointed to growing discomfort with the balance of power established in Brazil’s 1988 constitution.

2026 Brazil Summit, courtasy of the BrazilCham website

specifically, concern around the clause that defines the three branches of government—executive, legislative, and judicial—as “independent and harmonious.”

in the U.S., the branches are defined by separation: distinct powers with clear boundaries. here, the relationship itself is named.

and that phrasing stood out for another reason: it’s the exact language that underpins counterpoint—the renaissance-era practice that forms the basis of modern music theory and composition.

two facets of this relationship stand out:

first, the Brazilian constitution establishes a natural connection between the branches rather than an intentional separation—echoing a broader cultural contrast between Brazil and the United States: flexibility and mixture versus process and definition.

you see this in language—the contextual, relational nature of portuguese against the more precise, germanic structure of english. it’s something that comes up often in conversations with Brazilian expats as a core friction point.

to function in the U.S., you’re expected to define your role clearly. and for people used to experiencing themselves as part of a larger whole, that process can feel unnatural—like losing a part of yourself.

part of a whole at Carnaval in 2024

second, the parallel between political and musical structure offers a way to think about imbalance.

when relationships hold, the system works. when they don’t, problems emerge in predictable ways.

if orchestra parts become too similar, one begins to overpower the others—like a brass section drowning out a string line.

if they become too independent, the relationship breaks down entirely—the lines lose coherence, and the piece stops feeling like a whole.

and even as composers expanded and broke the rules developed during the 15th century, this basic principle held.

it was a genuine “whoa!”

what I love most about this metaphor is that, whether consciously or not, counterpoint theorists were building on a much older tradition—one that traces back to the Pythagorean use of sound to understand mathematical and physical relationships, and ultimately to the logarithmic nature of human hearing.

for all the precision and structure we try to impose on modern life, sometimes things really are that simple.

“there is one rule in the garden; you must give more than you take.” –Alan Chadwick

friends—my second album, Laundry Day, will release on May 8, 2026 at midnight.

I’ve shared bits along the way, but I’ve kept this music close to my chest until now.

you can pre-save it here. and what’s an album without a release party?

join me and the band at the delancey (168 delancey street) on the day of the release to celebrate. we’ll be playing the album live, plus a few surprises.

RSVP now

thank you as well to everyone who has been listening to Just Around the Bend—it’s been really great to hear from you about a project that has lived in my head for so long. I can’t wait for your thoughts on the full album!

that’s it for now. would mean a lot to have you there on the 8th.

fred

“there is one rule in the garden; you must give more than you take.” –Alan Chadwick

Just Around the Bend is out now!

listen here:

• Spotify

• Apple Music

• Tidal

all three songs were recorded in my NYC apartment, and capture my version of the city: solitary, but full of possibility.

thanks for listening,

fred

“there is one rule in the garden; you must give more than you take.” –Alan Chadwick

a quick reminder to pre-save my upcoming EP—Just Around the Bend drops on March 27, a week from friday.

featuring three lead singles from my second album, the EP explores the growth from possibility into experience. sometimes painful, sometimes ecstatic, but always honest.

I’ll be celebrating its release alongside some great friends with a show in Red Hook the night prior, thursday 3/26.

finally, mark your calendars for May 8—I’m holding a release party in downtown Manhattan for the full album. lots of fun to come!

growth from possibility into experience.

theory provides a framework for understanding loss.

it’s a roadmap to metabolizing wisdom—the lived experience of those who have walked our paths before us.

possibility lives in a conceptual world. it doesn’t ask you to close any doors; it poses the question of what happens when a door opens.

but experience is a matter of closing doors. to define is to remove opportunity. and with time as the ultimate constraint, removing opportunity eventually becomes a practical matter—not an emotional one.

ahh—renewed possibility!

a core principle of entrepreneurship is opportunity cost: rather than thinking in terms of possibility, it involves ranking negative outcomes against one another and choosing the least painful.

it’s a brutal process to continually ask what you’re most willing to lose. with practice, it becomes freeing.

modern life involves the steady accumulation of “stuff”—emotions, possessions, out-of-date business systems—but very little guidance on how to remove what no longer serves its purpose.

do you really have the energy to carry around all this stuff that isn’t doing you any more good?

musicians are often told: don’t let theory bog you down—just get started playing, and let that carry you. especially in a quantity-driven environment like the music industry, shortcuts become a competitive advantage.

and yet people burn out. the technical ability of younger generations, not just in music but across almost every discipline, is drastically outpacing that of those who came before them. the internet is an unparalleled learning resource, and these kids have been plugged in since day one.

at my local 4-a-side soccer pitch, I was talking with a dad whose two boys had developed exceptional skills at a rate that astounded him.

and yet his fear was not that his kids weren’t talented enough—it was whether they had the composure to manage adversity.

what happens when faced with loss? how does someone learn to live with unfulfilled possibility for the first time?

the internet promises opportunity; LLMs, dating apps, social media networks, job boards, all with more possibilities than any one person can handle—

and all extinguishing themselves at a faster rate than an individual can process.

my espresso often extinguishes itself at a faster rate than I can process

but I’m unique! nobody has walked this path before! the world is ending and I’m the only one who understands!

I agree with you! it’s a wonderful thing to be alive. nobody has ever seen the things you’ve seen, felt the things you felt.

and yet imagine they had. wouldn’t you be curious? what would you ask someone who’d felt the exact same thing you’re feeling right now?

we all experience loss firsthand—it’s a function of being human.

fortunately, many others have left a record of their losses in the hope that we might carry humanity one step further than they could.

in theory, for them.

in experience, for us.

“there is one rule in the garden; you must give more than you take.” –Alan Chadwick

hello, citizens of the world—

I’ve got some news.

for the first time since Spring Cleaning nearly three years ago, there’s new music on the way.

on friday, march 27, my 3-song EP Just Around the Bend arrives on streaming platforms in anticipation of the full album later this spring.

these three songs move from openness, through vulnerability, and into something freer—from possibility to embodiment. pre-save the EP here.

contemplative fred

how to pre-save (easiest on desktop):

• follow the link above (or here)

• select “Spotify pre-save”

• log in when prompted

once that’s done, the EP will automatically appear in your library on release day. thank you for the support—I can’t wait for you to hear it.

for nyc folks, first off—thank goodness for warmer weather. this year, we’ve earned it.

and when the weather heats up, we take the ferry to Red Hook:

mark your calendars for march 26—the night before the EP release—for an evening of intimate, thoughtful music from a handful of excellent songwriters.

shouts out to Jesús for putting this together!

yes, it’s back: Kiki’s Open Mic returns!

the busking empire strikes back

join us at The Flower Shop in LES on Tuesday nights for one of the most extravagant and outlandish showcases of underground talent in the city.

follow the Kiki’s Open Mic Instagram to stay up to date—and then come & play (or listen)!

“there is one rule in the garden; you must give more than you take.” –Alan Chadwick

another year, another great show at the shrine. 8pm on feb 17—hope to see you there!

other updates:

• album #2 is fully recorded, mixed, and mastered—an exciting milestone for this multi-year project. first singles soon to be released as an EP … stay tuned!

• mark your calendars for early may! alongside album #2 comes a release party in nyc. downtown, bar vibes, rock n’ roll atmosphere. you’re in the right place.

• Kieran and I are in late-stage talks with a venue to host season 3 of Kiki’s Open Mic. downtown, cocktail vibes, sultry atmosphere—follow the IG for more.

• as soon as it’s warm out, I’ll be out again busking in TSP. usually sundays around noon by the temperance fountain. gonna be a great year.

rules

a couple decades ago, my dad gave me a lasting piece of advice:

“learn the rules before you can break them.”

logically:

• rules exist as a fact of the matter

• it’s possible to deepen an understanding of rules

• once understood, rules can be surpassed.

as I faced new and unfamiliar experiences (teenage social situations, challenging school subjects, and a developing worldview), this advice provided me a growth system that remained intact even as my life became more complex.

an inherent assumption of this approach is that rules are breakable.

imagine that, at 11 years old. you’ve been given the right by your parent to “break the rules” and at the same time the responsibility of determining when that’s appropriate.

for more than a decade, I struggled to accept rules that didn’t make sense to me. I developed a strong sense of morality and felt responsible for all the hurt that I saw in the world, determined to show people there was a better way.

at the same time, I understood rules existed. I was born in midwestern Canada, where rules were imposed by the harshness of the world around you and you depended on others for warmth.

when my family moved to Virginia in the mid aughts, my first snow day was a revelation. a day off for snow was a fairytale I’d read about in books. you went to school all winter in Saskatoon, you just didn’t go outside for recess if it was below -25°C.

nyc does alright in the snow

people rebelled not out of angst but out of necessary release. the natural environment was hostile to life, and breaking the rules was a show of defiance. anyone too respectful was distrusted or seen as naïve.

yet Virginia had its own idiosyncrasies too … and as I grew through upper schooling I learned how rules can both benefit and constrain.

I got written up a lot for disruption—never malicious but certainly behavior that was “against the rules.” I also began to truly recognize the privilege my identity brings.

institutions conferred trust and support the more appropriately I behaved, and I started to depend on that reassurance. I adjusted my identity to fit in.

and then I moved to NYC: a place so dominated by its population that it’s developed its own set of rules. like Saskatoon, its rules arise from a matter of need—but here they persist because of humanity, not in spite of it.

For the first years I lived here, I could tell that there was underlying logic that allowed residents to survive and thrive, but it was so encoded in lived experience that I had no frame of reference.

it seemed like everyone else had some secret guidebook or orientation that I must have missed—thrown into the graduate-level class without a paddle.

laundry day

but here my dad’s wisdom came to the fore. after the internship that brought me to the city ended, I was alone: no job, few friends, and no space to myself except a 60 square foot room in a 1-flex-3 month-to-month apartment.

yet this situation gave me ultimate freedom to learn the rules governing NYC from the ground up.

and now, eight years later, I still operate on some of the basic habits I built back in 2018. it’s the meaning behind my second album, Laundry Day: how do you come to grips with what you can’t control? “I follow the rhythms and cycles that keep me in line.”

and now, as I dive deeper into applied technical learning, my conception of rules is shifting. I’m beginning to understand them as the basic building blocks of systems.

I’ve written before about how my music compositions often begin with theoretical concepts. through books such as Digital Mantras, the Physics and Psychophysics of Music, and Systems Theory, I’m uncovering the behaviors that connect music, math, physics, language, and a whole host of other subjects.

and slowly, my understanding of that original grain of wisdom has matured:

how freeing are the rules that don’t ask to be broken.

“there is one rule in the garden; you must give more than you take.” –Alan Chadwick

we’re back in action nov 16 at my favorite venue in the city:

the shrine is a special place. sunday evening show—see you there!

man, where to begin?

with math, perhaps. here’s a question: what’s your favorite math concept?

I never really had one. I couldn’t wrap my head around the purpose of math, and for me, that was a barrier. the quantitatively ambiguous nature of the humanities suited me, enabling the creativity I craved.

yet to manifest, creativity requires structure—and structure is governed by numbers. I would run into logistical challenges, underaccounting for the constraints of the real world and accepting them as the price of doing business.

thus, while life decisions created the space for my creative ability to develop, I couldn’t find peace in the output. it cost too much.

creativity is also difficult to measure, and in a post-industrial, rationalist world, what you can’t assign value to ceases to exist. AI, mankind’s love note to itself, extends this theme beyond human limits. “yeah, give me the artificial one.”

but here’s the thing—assigning value based on what’s measurable reduces our systems to those we’ve created. there’s still so much to be discovered.

hence the name of this newsletter: in the model of Alan Chadwick’s garden, honest work begets honest outcomes. nature can’t be controlled, so we submit to her and treat her well. in return she provides for us.

western tonality bases itself on the overtone series—a naturally occurring logarithm that divides itself into a consonant-sounding sequence of pitches.

look at a guitar neck to see the below visual illustrated in real life: frets shrink by equal ratios with each step, inversely related to the pitches they produce.

when I tell you I’ve been crash-coursing math over the past month, I mean that I’ve been trying to decipher a concept fundamental to my passion from an angle I haven’t considered in over a decade. my brain’s been twisted in a knot translating written equations into a language I speak fluently.

and I couldn’t have done so without the help of AI. the more clearly I articulated my pain points, the better the guidance became—connecting me with books and pieces of music that illustrated the very concepts I was chasing.

I see the structure in my music now, as in my life. at times, it has restricted me. the more I understand it, the more it frees me.

other updates:

• ooooh album mixing is almost done it’s so close I can’t wait

• my youtube channel continues to dominate the 55+ demographic:

  

  new videos every saturday morning

that’s it for now. talk soon!

“there is one rule in the garden; you must give more than you take.” –Alan Chadwick

in nyc tomorrow (saturday 10/18)? come hang with me and my buddy Kieran at Lucinda’s as we play cowboy to get you shakin’ your honky tonk badonkadonk.

show starts at 2—hope to see you there!

yes—we are “dose cowboys”

how do we trust what we can’t understand?

as AI embeds itself deeper into our daily lives, the tension between mechanical and human reasoning grows starker. machines process information with inhuman speed and scale—and yet, they’re often wrong, confidently and consistently so.

—

I’m reading a thoroughly intriguing book on the evolution of computer-assisted art: Digital Mantras, by Steven Holtzman. its core tenet is that computers not only excel at manipulating abstract structures—it’s what they’re designed for.

what exactly is an “abstract structure”? according to Holtzman, it’s an explicit, rule-governed system to which operations, algorithms, or formulas can be applied.

he provides fascinating examples: from Sanskrit grammar to Bach’s counterpoint to modern fractal art, Holtzman traces how humanity has long used such structures to translate thought into form. computers, he suggests, simply extend that lineage to superhuman scale.

(as a side note, published in 1994, his visions of virtual reality are nothing short of prophetic)

—

I love that Holtzman dives into the history of musical composition, in part because he shows the depth of thought applied to developing theoretical approaches to music over time.

for hundreds of years, composers followed strict contrapuntal rules—only to disregard them completely by the turn of the 20th century. from there, “modern” techniques began to differ from the structures that govern popular music, instead heading into more abstract and atonal works such as Karlheinz Stockhausen’s Study II, or more famously John Cage’s 4:33.

even toward the end of Digital Mantras, Holtzman notes this departure—calling into question definitions of beauty and artistic value that challenge but, for me, ultimately fall flat. I’m more interested in humanity’s ability to deepen its experience than in computers’ ability to convey more complex levels of information.

—

even within folk traditions, theory underlies emotion. my own compositions often begin with theoretical concepts—emotion encoded in pattern:

• Oiseau, a song in 11/8 meter that flips from a 5/6 subdivision to a 6/5 subdivision in the 5th bar of each form repetition

• Breathe, an improvised exploration of a single tonal center and melodic theme

• Stuck in a Moment, for which the key emotional point hinges on a harmonic frame staying the same as everything around it changes

but those concepts still exist within a defined, familiar structure: a ten-song album, thirty minutes in length, released on streaming platforms and CD.

look at the ableton project for a song off my upcoming album—what structures stand out?

—

the composers Holtzman highlights—Stockhausen, Koenig, Xenakis—sought to completely redefine our relationship to music and, by extension, to one another.

it’s striking to read about the techniques employed by artists with limited computational power, only to spool up ableton today and end up doing… essentially the same thing commercial artists have been doing for eighty years.

and yet this is what draws me to folk music: human behavior has proven remarkably resilient, even as we build more complex societal systems. the more we can align those systems with what emerges naturally—in harmony with nature—the richer and more fulfilling our lives become, and the more effectively we connect with each other.

is it a matter of making the basic structures more complex, or the complex ones more basic?

other updates:

• album mix is slowly coming together … check out a rough mix of Friday Night!

• new YT videos are up!! we react to Aretha Franklin and the Rolling Stones 🤘🏼

• mark your calendars: I’m back at the Shrine Harlem on sunday 11/16 at 7pm!

“there is one rule in the garden; you must give more than you take.” –Alan Chadwick

I’m in the market for a new chair.

this new seat (or set of two, for company) will fill the functional gap between my bed and desk chair. neither allows for passive engagement: to relax with a hazy half-focus, playing guitar, reading, or just hanging out.

it must also be collapsible to fit in the last sliver of space in my apartment: a small alcove behind my shoeboxes next to the kitchen cabinets. price is a factor, and a compelling aesthetic may be aspirational but a man can dream. I welcome all inquiries.

surfacing this need recently at C&B on the southeast corner of tompkins square, an acquaintance (Sasha!) suggested a larger theme of experiential space: the places we listen. taken, I began to reflect.

C&B, an excellent setting for people-watching and casual social interaction, hosts a jazz trio every sunday—such a day was this. sitting, I noted the sunlight bouncing off the café windows and the shuffle of passers-by; but as usual, my ears kept directing my attention back to the band.

the Yuval Amihai trio, courtesy of The Manhattan Beat

the trio, a light and cohesive group, plays within a familiar tradition that balances easily between foreground and background. it plants a stake in the nearby park’s larger soundscape—walk close enough, and the hint of music and chatter will draw you even closer.*

for the cafe’s clientele, the sound provides sublime license for truer motives: socializing, a light caffeine buzz, or to just sit in sunday dress and be admired. the atmospheric cover allows the eyes to wander.

*this interplay, coincidentally, fuels my love of busking in tompkins: playing music in a public space creates the same structured yet invigorating randomness between performer and listener.

I take in the world around me primarily through my ears; visual cues have always proved tougher for me to decipher, and indeed my hearing has at times been a crutch for me to generate meaning. thus, it’s also become one of my greatest assets.

how much of what you see here is designed to produce sound?

my deepest listening takes place in my apartment—from ongoing practice and repetition (guitar, piano), to composition and production (studio monitors, headphones), to passive consumption (monitors, bluetooth speaker).

indoors, the expanse of C&B collapses into utilitarian constraints; my apartment must double as living room, studio, and kitchen. listening is functional and cherished but designed to catalyze growth. it doesn’t provide relief—a constant refrain of the apartment-locked city-dweller.

all artistic pursuits in new york city are limited to some degree by space, and thus in turn by cost. for music, this takes the form of the studio, the locus of creation, or the venue, the locus of experience.

for millennia, music operated inside natural limits: community size, location, cultural tradition—systems that forced intimacy, locality, and scarcity.

in the earlier part of the 20th century, the advent of electricity irrevocably transformed the experience of music by allowing, for the first time, its recording and reproduction at scale.

this newfound production capacity—especially when paired with the post WWII U.S. economic boom and subsequent cultural expansion—allowed for the creation of segmented audience markets that capitalized on evolving conceptions of identity and class to drive consumption.

for a time it worked: more people heard more music than ever. But this victory over scarcity gradually hollowed out all connective tissue between participants. if music is a language, we monetized the words faster than we could learn to speak them.

Ramona and the Holy Smokes album release party—sept 2025

as recordings flooded the market, abundance eroded the structures that had sustained music for thousands of years. songs became cheap and plentiful as the shared spaces that gave them life—dance halls, clubs, neighborhood bars—grew more fragile.

first itunes, then streaming, severed music from its scarcity altogether. listening was flattened: solitary, compressed into headphones and steered by algorithms.

venues were left to absorb the impact. the math no longer worked. too many musicians, too many songs, too few stages, and too little money circulating to hold it all together.

the collective act of music shifted to serve only the personal experience: DJs, requests, and bands finding more success playing covers at weddings and corporate parties than they ever could through their original music.

in trying to transcend music’s natural limits—space, cost, locality—we dismantled the connective system that had bound communities together for millennia.

and so we yearn to rediscover the humanity that once defined music. how many concerts do you see that promise an intimate, living room–like experience? where are the community centers for us to gather and connect spiritually?

thus the return to nature, or to tompkins. a fountain of vibrancy anchoring the concrete jungle to more ancient ways of being—not only to play but to listen, to locate myself in the rhythms of others in a sea of ordinary sound.

here we go again

other updates

ty ty ty for all the love on my Beatles reaction video! two new videos are live: Rubén Blades and the Talking Heads. like, comment, and subscribe!

not much else—I’m on v-a-c-a-tion for a few days relaxing in the blue ridge foothills and teaching myself jazz harmony. who could ask for anything more?

talk soon!

“there is one rule in the garden; you must give more than you take.” –Alan Chadwick

it’s easy to forget the Americas were colonized.

not because the effects have vanished, but because colonization lies just far enough in the past to have slipped from living memory. As attention spans shorten and history itself contracts, even the socio-economic foundations of the Western Hemisphere become harder to recall.

I don’t present this as a political stance; it escapes debate. I introduce it to provide grounding theory for why U.S. culture currently faces an identity crisis.

Spain had reached the Caribbean over 500 years ago. England established its first New World colony around 100 years later.

it wasn’t for another 170 years the U.S. was founded. hey GPT,

United States culture roots itself so recently that it cannot be visualized when measured against other cultures of the world.

so what challenges currently face pan-American society? among others,

• immense technical innovation (AI)

• retreat from globalization

• pivot to conservative ideals

• rapid, steady inflation

• cultural and border dysphoria

these points are illustrated well by the paradox of immigration—a key economic driver not only for the United States, but for Canada, Argentina, Brazil, and Chile, and also a force of rapid diversification.

immigration has enabled unprecedented growth, which has in turn laid bare the disconnect between these hybrid American nations and the indigenous cultures that preceded them.

the disruptions we face are grounded in that fracture—between the land and its inhabitants, between memory and forgetting. these are not just political or economic events, but symptoms of a culture still searching for grounding.

the way forward is not to recover—or feel guilt for—a past we can’t inhabit, but to build traditions that carry us into the future.

digital platforms have exposed us to incredible global creativity, but the crucial next step has not yet been realized: to reinvest that knowledge in the local and regional systems that support us.

rather than thinking of values and community as fixed structures we plug into, or nature something to be explored, what if we built outward from our own lived experiences?

we start by embodying the lifestyle we hope to model—fueled by the access to knowledge and resources technology provides—and then create networks and connections that support both our own growth and that of those willing to collaborate with us.

tradition is not abstract. It lives in what we choose to carry forward.

for me, that grounding comes through music—folk, jazz, and funk of the 70s and 80s, when live performance reached a peak of raw human expression before technological efficiency began to dominate.

these traditions were still loose enough to carry human-made rhythms: songs written for people gathered in a room, themes born from labor and land, performances that breathed with the same air as their listeners.

before digitization, music carried a pulse that tied humans back to the cycles of nature. consider:

Parliament Funkadelic - Give Up the Funk (1976)

Grateful Dead - Must’ve Been the Roses (1980)

Jorge Ben Jor - Pais Tropical (1982)

our grounding may differ. yours might be a grandmother’s recipe, a unique dance step, or a style of poetry. what matters is not uniformity, but the act of grounding itself: piecing together continuity from what resonates most deeply.

other updates?

album is being mixed—release looking like spring ‘26 once the weather starts to warm up. new music to come sooner than that.

in NYC? stop by Kiki’s Open Mic 6pm tomorrow (wednesday) in TSP. come early for music lessons!

kicked off a new youtube reaction series—YT can be a silly platform but this is a chance for me to get deeper into performance theory. should be fun!

there’s more but we’ll save it. stay in touch!

“there is one rule in the garden; you must give more than you take.” –Alan Chadwick

it was the summer of 2009, and I was up in Boston for a five-week intensive music program.

I’d just picked up the guitar for the first time about twelve months prior. though I’d been diligently learning piano for a few years, I had quickly become enamored with my new instrument—like many teens, images of Led Zeppelin and AC/DC up on stage conjured up a raw but visceral desire to reach rock-god status myself. TNT—I’m dynamite.

and so, after wrapping up my freshman year of high school, I packed up my epiphone les paul and set out on the first major step in my rock star journey: the Berklee 5-week music intensive program.

already with the ironic beatles shirt

the coursework was fair and the classes were instructive. my theoretical understanding of music was high, but my inexperience on the guitar shone through—for the most part, professors were content to focus on the students they deemed the most promising.

but I encountered a foreign and disorienting world in those streets and dorm rooms. it was my first encounter with a vibe, or a scene—very different from the faux-southern charm of Charlottesville, VA, where I’d just moved a few years prior, or even the brutality of my hometown Saskatoon, SK, where you had to be mean just to survive the winter.

no, my peers engaged in a performative coolness I’d never seen before: smoking cigarettes on the front stoop of cafeteria, or staying out all night just because they could.

worse, they knew I was different—in a competition I didn’t realize existed, I was coming in last. I contented myself to kick a soccer ball around with a few of my outsider friends, or play Tony Hawk’s in my room by myself.

“there’s so much out there in the world,” I remember deciding. “I don’t want to be like those kids. I want to learn english, and history, and whoever I am, I don’t want to be a musician.”

my impression of a musician

and that was the story I stuck with through college and graduate school, and on to NYC to pursue a career in marketing. it was creative enough for me, and besides—I found business interesting. who is really that passionate about their career anyway?

along the way, I’d flirt with re-entry into the world of music—an internship in a studio here, a fellowship with a non-profit there. I’d work for free, half-heartedly cleaning equipment or going for coffee (anything except making actual music), and the feedback I got was always the same: “you don’t have what it takes to make it.”

that feedback astonished me, even as I took it to heart. evidently musicians possessed some ungodly drive to eat sh*t on their way to the top—a gene that had somehow passed me over even as I longed for it. dejected, I resigned myself to a Clark Kent-ish fate: corporate stiff by day, musician by night.

but secret lives have a way of persisting. my music slowly but consistently continued to develop—limited by the hours of the day but funded by the savings I stacked away from consistent paychecks. I moved to Denver, then back to NYC, then back to Charlottesville, then back to NYC. I recorded an album, and released it to an audience of friends and family in a Brooklyn living room.

and as years passed, I realized something strange: every decision I made was with the intent of perpetuating my ability to write and perform music.

2021 - early days of playing in tompkins

as inflation and housing costs mounted, I stopped going out to eat—instead choosing to hire my friends to play gigs with me in small venues across the city. saturday nights meant an early bedtime so I could wake up early, do laundry, and get to the park by noon to busk for a few hours.

and at times this split personality was brutal. there was so much I was learning about the world through my secret second life that I wasn’t able to communicate at work. and though I continued to progress as a musician, I was always missing jams and shows to keep up with my 9-5. by the end of this summer, I felt I was reaching a breaking point.

and then, a week ago wednesday, a funny thing happened. just as the music scene spat me out for the first time nearly two decades ago, the corporate world did the exact same. and so my theory of stability > passion collapsed just as quickly as it had been imagined. it was time for a pivot—cue the track, Dave.

NYC, present day.

the structure that has defined the past seven-ish years of my life is falling away, and the most concrete foundation that remains is the years I’ve poured into my musical practice.

and yet, there was some truth to my original vision: there is more to life than just music, and my time spent in the corporate world taught me how to organize and synthesize that insight to drive organizational value. many of the musicians I meet lack for real-world context, and many of the real-worlders are searching for the fulfillment that my artist friends have built their life around.

this is a long way of announcing that I’m hoping to slowly shift the emphasis of this newsletter to incorporate more than updates on my (eventual) second album and performances throughout the city. I hope to diversify the range of topics, examining how to structure creative work so that it’s repeatable and measurable—with the ultimate goal of leveraging my musicianship to pay the bills and beyond.

if you’re looking for more business-focused insight, I’m hoping to do the reverse of this newsletter on my LinkedIn by providing tips for how to incorporate creativity into more structured and value-driving processes.

but fear not, no jargon, acronyms or buzzwords will find their way to this garden—it will remain a holdout of human emotion as reality bends to the whims of our techno-industrial overlords. let’s see who breaks first.

looking forward

“there is one rule in the garden; you must give more than you take.” –Alan Chadwick

calling all freeloaders!

band show 10pm tonight at Pete’s Candy Store. free entry—hope to see you there!

lots of pretty significant updates to come but tonight we groove.

“there is one rule in the garden; you must give more than you take.” –Alan Chadwick

crew! thank you to all who came out to Silvana’s this past weekend, what a cool spot.

I didn’t realize it until I got there, but I’d actually played in quite a few open jams there back in 2019 with a crew called the Trainwalkers … it was one of my first times leading a band onstage. I was crazy nervous back then but man was it fun.

I wish I still had this shirt

and look at us now! with our own band, and a show at Pete’s Candy Store on sept 4.

I hope to see you there! between these shows, busking in the park, Kiki’s Open Mic on wednesdays, and even a new honky tonk bar opening in the EV—we’re on a roll.

nothing much more to report for now. album is with mixer, I’m headed to the beach next week, and—as it does every year—summertime done come and gone, my oh my.

talk soon!

“there is one rule in the garden above all others. you must give more than you take.” –Alan Chadwick

whoaa what’s up everybody hope you are well and glad to be back in your inboxes.

what have you been up to? seriously, respond to this and let me know. I’m curious, and I’ll share/respond to anything fun in the next go round.

last we talked, things were pretty twisted. luckily, they have since un-twisted—and here we are halfway through the summer a little scattered but stoked on what’s to come.

A few rapid-fire updates:

• I’m helping host an open mic every wednesday in Tompkins Square Park. it’s on pause through the month of August (🥵) but come back after labor day and we’ll be rockin’ in the free world.

• flew down to Charlotte for a dual purpose visit—hang out with Christian and the Morning Miles crew, and join Ivan, Carlos, and Gorio for RM vs Pachuca in the Club World Cup. all went according to script.

• I played a fourth of july show on an east village rooftop while a man in full colonial dress implored me to “play that El Paso song” over and over. some years the rooftop gets fireworks; this year it didn’t.

• ran into my former roommate and best friend Dan on a random flight to St Louis—they seated us across the aisle from each other. he was going to a bachelor party, I to a family reunion.

• at said family reunion, stayed up until ungodly hours wailing country music with my cousins two decades older. “your mom is my favorite aunt,” one of them confessed. the rugby boys still certainly outpaced us.

anyway, there’s a lot to catch up on—I’ll get right into it:

Upcoming Shows

two of them! one solo and one with the band.

August 10, 7pm | Silvana

How often do you make it up to Harlem? Here’s a good excuse to. An intimate solo set— you, me, and at least a couple songs you probably haven’t heard before.

September 4, 10pm | Pete’s Candy Store

10pm? oh come on, it’s a thursday. we were fun once too. either way freddie and the freeloaders are back at Pete’s so look out—we’ve been practicing.

(poster to come)

Album

this is probably the most significant piece of news: recording on my second album is done! I wrapped it up last weekend in a whirlwind final push.

it’ll still be a minute before it hits the airwaves—it’s off to mr. smooth Esmute next to mix, and then it’s likely a few songs will come out as an EP this fall with the full project to come in 2026.

In the meantime, I’ve got the first rough mix and a few folks have given me some much appreciated feedback, especially my man Peter. if you’d like to have an early listen, shoot me a reply and I’ll send you a link 🙏 

Life

like I said, twisty tangles that slowly but surely are managing to un-f*k themselves. I’m out busking in Tompkins most sundays, and between there, Abraço, and St Marks Yoga, I’m managing to hold the physical, emotional, and spiritual threads intact.

so it’s time to build. more soon!

“there is one rule in the garden above all others. you must give more than you take.“ –Alan Chadwick

yes it is in fact the case! fred riko is back live for Fred On Both Sides—a two-show run up the east coast!

next month, catch me at:

• Common House Charlottesville on may 7

• The Shrine Harlem on may 9

for a triumphant return after a few months laying low.

of course, I’m not saying I’ve been staying out of trouble—but that’s neither here nor there. point is, whether you can make one show or both it’s gonna be a good time.

warm weather has brought about a drastic shift in lifestyle that I must have been through dozens of times before (or 30 exactly) and still did not fail to be astonished by.

april is my favorite month of the year, tied with october. it’s at the heart of spring, it’s the month when Europe 72 kicks off, and the weather really starts to warm.

as a side note, this personal development handbook I’m reading says participating in small talk is key toward establishing rapport and developing common ground when first engaging with a new person. by recognizing the two of you are on the same page, you’ve built an effective platform to progress to more pressing matters at hand. so yes I absolutely opened this email talking about the weather.

and so from the abyss that is indoor behavior of winter I have emerged. every morning so far this week I’ve woken up early to walk a gorgeous 15 minutes to abraço, grab an iced espresso to go, and head around the corner to park myself on a bench in the loveliest spot in tompkins square park I can find. it’s bliss.

warm weather kicks off busking season as well, which is both one of my greatest sources of enjoyment and a legitimate way for me to pay for laundry every sunday, as I straighten out crumpled dollar bills to eventually feed into a coin machine. this also takes place in the park.

there’s also been an atrocious construction project on the 10th street side going on for at least two years—closing the main facilities and littering the area with construction debris for what felt like ages.

I’m sure it was necessary, but suffice it to say I’m glad to have it over. the park is back in full force as a place for nearby people to gather in search of connection. what a beautiful thing!

work on album #2 has progressed significantly in the past couple months. the final tracklist is determined, though not without last minute changes, and just a few instruments (jazz flute? cuíca?) still need to be recorded before handing it over for the mix and master.

we do have the cover shoot taken care of already—thank the homie Dom for that who also has a new photo book out you should investigate.

I’m hoping to put out a little two or three song EP in advance, giving a little taste of what’s to come. but of course with your premier status as subscribers to this email list, you get sneak peeks way earlier than that.

So check out a near-final version of the album’s closer: “Back Home on the Range”

with guitar recently recorded by my friend Ben from Kendall Street and Reggie from Fiverr! the pedal steel is a little hot … but who doesn’t love a little extra pedal steel.

that’s it for now. come to the shows. I’ll see you around!

“there is one rule in the garden above all others. you must give to nature more than you take.“ –Alan Chadwick

quick reminder: show in harlem on february 5!

it’s 10am in São Paulo. the trees are lush and green because it rained last night, and the night before, and it’s likely going to rain today as well. it rains so frequently here that Paulistas refer to their town by its distinctive style of fine, almost invisible droplets that seem to suspend in the air: “Cidade de Garoa”, or city of rain.

it’s january, however, and so this light drizzle has been replaced by summer downpours. the city flooded less than a week ago, and while life has more or less returned to normal, various shades of grey hang literally overhead, threatening further chaos.

It’s my last day in Brazil, and in twelve hours I’ve got a flight to catch back to Newark Int’l—but for now, the weather is my primary concern. “we take a jacket today?” I ask my friend Victor, a bespectacled philosophy student with dreams of being a professor. “we take”, he nods his head back.

as we set out after coffee and a breakfast of nutella and banana on fried tapioca, the rain has picked up so hard that Victor and I only make it a couple blocks before we are forced to crowd underneath the awning of a nearby convenience store.

there, we join a dozen other people with ponchos and folded umbrellas waiting for a brief reprieve from the showers. some folks are in a hurry, and take their chances before the barrage has let up. luckily, after another ten minutes, the skies have cleared slightly and we feel confident enough to bid “good day” to our compatriots and head on our way.

Victor and I make it three more blocks before being forced to take shelter again. “espere”, he says. “I know a lunch place just around the corner here, it is better to wait.” and so we run to the sanctuary of a nearby lanchonete for a plate of sausage, rice, beans, and farofa: a delicious, course meal made of ground cassava plant to be sprinkled across the rest of the dish. by the time we finish, the rain has gone and will let us be for the rest of the day.

Later, I ask Victor if he knows of any ways to appeal for some kindness from the rain gods. he said Brazilians will put an egg in a tree—not as an offering or anything, you put it up and then just take it down once you don’t need it there anymore. that, he said, or you sing Jorge Ben’s “Santa Clara Clareou”.

we spend the afternoon walking around downtown São Paulo. “see how traditional architecture mashes up against modern glass buildings” Victor points out. “it’s easier to build something new than to improve what we already have. the city is always trying to make this area safer and better for tourists, but underlying issues are never addressed.”

this manifests in a feeling of unease that permeates the area. we walk past restaurants advertising in e

nglish (a rarity in Brazil) side by side with shops blaring music that almost threatens passersby to enter. the tension is palpable, and as a kid springs up from seemingly nowhere to ask for the time, Victor explains the teen is hoping one of us would pull out a phone so he can run off with it. it’s the oldest trick in the book, but there’s enough going on around us I see how someone could let their guard down.

unperturbed, we continue our tour down a road that overlooks a cramped, crowded market that reminded me of canal street. the last of my dinero was burning a hole in my pocket and I saw a chance to procure my favorite type of souvenir: a bootleg jersey from a local soccer team. “we call that the 25th of March street, or the 25th for short” my tour guide told me. “you can definitely find something there.”

minutes later, we were descending down a steep alley that was even louder than the previous neighborhood. lojas blared deals and discounts over their loudspeakers—looped recordings that compelled you to act out of fear as much as curiosity. Victor taps me on the shoulder and we duck into a small shop with jerseys from every major Paulistan team, as well as national shirts and assorted others from across the globe.

“oi cara, quero uma camisa de Corinthians” I assert, hoping some extra confidence overcomes any grammatical missteps.

“bem amigo, temos três tipos: aqui está nossa primeira linha …” and we were off.

I explain to the two kids working there that I was from Canada (better to go with my location of birth than NYC, I was advised) and was catching a plane home later that day. the primeira linha shirts were 80 réis, but I had only 62.50 in cash left. could we make a deal?

they turned to their boss in the back, who gave a gruff nod. with that, we were all high fiving, the deal a coisa feita: me with my new prize, and the two kids with a story to tell about how they went toe to toe with a gringo. “outsiders rarely come through this part of town,” Victor explained.

“look around—you’re the only foreigner here. and they gave you a 17 réis discount!” he shook his head incredulously. “you’ve got some luck.”

as we walked back up the same alley we had previously descended, Vic reflected a bit more on what had just happened. “I can be very fearful sometimes, living in this city,” he admitted. “it seems so dangerous and I usually avoid going out at night at all costs.”

but, he continued, you lose a sense for the magic of a new situation or environment. uncertainty can lead to hurt and pain, but it can also lead to unexpected joy.

“by the way, why Corinthians?” asked the fervent São Paulo fan as I was about to leave, having just taken me to see his beloved SP beat third-division Portuguesa the night before.

“honestly, I’d been looking for a local team to follow” I replied, “and every Corinthians supporter I’ve talked to has shown nothing but excitement for their team. even if they have had a few recent tough years, there’s an inescapable optimism and positivity I connect with.”

he shrugged his shoulders and helped me bring my bags down to the street. out from a red fiat jumps Jose, my uber driver:

“boa tarde cara! pra o aeroporto?”

he’s clad in a black and white Corinthians shirt. Vic and I look at each other and laugh as I climb into the back seat.

“eu vou!”

Victor, with jacket in tow

“there is one rule in the garden above all others. you must give more than you take.“ –Alan Chadwick

I’m going to start by getting ahead of myself and letting you know my first show in the city this year has been booked for wednesday, february 5, 7-8 pm! 

yes, the lovely folks at the Shrine are having me back, so take that A train or whichever the quickest way is for you to get to Harlem and stop on by. maybe I’ll even do a few songs for the lovers out there, it’ll be that time of year. who knows?

there’s even more exciting things planned between now and then, but that will remain a secret for now. all I can say is I will be going somewhere warm, and that warm place happens to be the home of caiparinias, Chico Buarque, and candomblé.

ok I gave away the secret but as to what is actually going to acontecer, you’ll just have to stay tuned. 

why the title of the email? simple really—you can expect more of the same from me this year, from shows across the city to updates and sneak peaks on my second album, which is right now slated for a late summer release.

that timeline may change, but either way I’ll do my best to bring you along for the ride as I continue to grow this little artistic project of mine.

this past wednesday I kicked off my actual first show of the year—at Common House in my hometown of charlottesville. the social club/third space is a mellow setting to play, punctuated by a roaring fire and plenty of big comfy chairs to relax in. 

some aggressive hand-on-knee action for you

interestingly enough, CH was first a client of mine when I worked for a local ad agency—I’d hung around and even flirted with membership for a few months, but really this performer-venue situation seems to have evolved into the best version of our relationship. this way, my parents can hear me play and I can invite my hometown friends to come listen too.

a shout out to my dad for capturing some video of the performance. here is Jobim’s “Corcovado” from that night:

charlottesville also offers a unique atmosphere for recording music that is nearly impossible to find in NYC—namely, that it’s quiet. 

I lugged the more mobile elements of my recording setup down to virginia for the holidays, and over the past month managed to record the rest of the acoustic guitar parts for my upcoming album.

these acoustic parts are actually the hardest parts to track; vocals are usually recorded in bits and pieces, smashing little sections together for one hyper-precise franken-take. but for continuity and “vibe,” acoustic instruments sound much better recorded in as close to one take as possible. this creates a more stable foundation for the vocal and helps avoid distracting the listener away from the song’s focus. 

that being said, I’m leaning into the dynamic of NYC’s intense sound pollution as a major theme on this upcoming album. between my buddy Trevor’s upright bass, some of my guitar tracks, and what will ultimately be the percussion and vocal overdubs that fill out the production, there will be plenty of honk and siren easter eggs to listen for.

my relationship with that reality has evolved dramatically. at first, I was shattered. I realized quickly I’d never be able to recreate the precision and quality of a recording studio in my own apartment, and yet as time passed I came to grips with the fact that perfection wasn’t necessarily my goal. 

this second album will be a reflection of this period of my life in new york—the highs and lows, the possibilities and harsh truths—and the best I can do is to be honest to it.

when I say that there were times I would try to anticipate when a traffic jam would take a minute-long break from honking its horns, I mean that I would be sitting, with my finger on the record button, dialing in ESP-style to the brains of the uber, truck, and bus drivers now subject to congestion charges. which I think are a good thing by the way, and not just because less vehicle traffic may make it easier for me to record. but anyway, yeah—sometimes the psychic attunement worked, and sometimes it didn’t. 

and so that’s what this album is going to be about. life in new york is not pretty and it’s only sometimes fun, but it’s more rewarding than living just about anywhere else.

everyone gets through it differently, and I do so by typing out my thoughts with semi-grammatical accuracy and sending them out into the depths of the interweb. I appreciate y’all for reading.

“there is one rule in the garden above all others. you must give to nature more than you take.“ –Alan Chadwick

yes indeed the big day is finally upon us!

Trevor, Edu, and I will be onstage together again at last on saturday at pete’s candy store—a fun and unique venue that feels sort of like being in the back of a school bus.

show starts at 8pm. add it to your calendar here.

I’ve also picked up another two dates this month:

• wednesday 11.13 at sugar mouse: a Grateful-Dead-themed set at the weekly groove jam. bring your instrument!

• tuesday 11.19 breaking sound @ brooklyn music kitchen: a solo show, I’ll be part of an all-night music showcase. grab your tickets here! ($15 adv) 

we’ve got something special planned for each night—hope to see you soon!

I’ve come across two books from the same bookstore (village works*) in the past week that have each opened up my brain a bit.

the zen doctrine of no mind and philosophy of modern music detail two philosophers’ attempts to reconcile the paradoxes of life through precise adherence to discrete ways of thought.

the two approaches differ in that the former fosters individual enlightenment, while the latter emphasizes behaving within the context in which theory takes place. they chase each other around in that regard.

now, I’ve yet made it through no more than two-dozen pages of either book. such is philosophy. but even just the prefaces and opening chapters illustrate that through the wide variances in walks of life, we still carry many things in common.

primarily, people are united in that there are things—facts, beliefs, you name it—that either individually or collectively we will never fully comprehend. nascer, viver, morrer. 

art inhabits the space between our experience and our understanding. we must allow ourselves to feel discomfort and be surprised by where it takes us.

if that feels overwhelming, the best advice might be the simplest: don’t stop.^ whatever the school of theory or thought, the people who are successful are the ones who manage to just keep going.

*name dropping this bookstore is a bit like touting the wonders of Pet Sounds—you’re definitely not the first to discover it but that doesn’t make it less wonderful

^shouts out Jed Scott, I just googled and his site came up

“there is one rule in the garden above all others. you must give to it more than you take.“ –Alan Chadwick

a few months ago, I shared a cover of “Don’t Worry Baby” recorded for a Beach Boys compilation album put together by Toadstool Records.

the compilation aimed to raise funds for two organizations, one focused on disaster relief and the other working to conserve oyster reefs in NYC. read more about that here. Matt Durkin aka Favorite Vegetable aka the designer of the cover art for Spring Cleaning designed the album cover for this project.

the compilation is now released and available to purchase and download through Bandcamp for $7. click here to check out the compilation.

I have a couple of shows coming up! here’s where to catch me live this month:

• Tues Nov 5, the shrine harlem, 7:45 pm (solo) - yes, election day. I’m playing a show on election day.

• Wed Nov 13, sugar mouse, 8:30pm - me n the boys are hosting a Grateful Dead-themed jam in NYU territory. who’s to know what will happen.

• Sat Nov 16, pete’s candy store, 7:45 pm - shout out to the people who came to pete’s the last go round. this time I’m actually going to play.

all shows are free, just show up at the time listed and I will play my heart out for you.

Nov 16 I’ll have the band with me and we’ll have a surprise or two ready. should be fun!

“there is one rule in the garden above all others. you must give to nature more than you take.“ –Alan Chadwick