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the saltwater story
Meet The Saltwater Cowboys, a raucous bunch of miscreants whose various personal journeys have merged into a united melodic mission. Comprised of five members; Roddy manning the guitar and lead vocals; Gordie spilling silky solos from his guitar; Brian holding down the bass; Marc spraying the keys with subtle genius; and Joe with the percussion in his pocket, this band of brutes each brings their own unique strain of sound and style to the Saltwater experience.
Roddy’s the one who writes all the songs and puts all the words where each one belongs. Hailing from the famed fishing regions of Eastern Canada, Roddy has a history hidden in mist. In the midst of many unknowns it was found that he spent time in jail for crimes as diverse and harmless as postal fraud, drug possession, gambling, looting, and even breaking into and sleeping in the wrong house. It is speculated that his move to Toronto was motivated by what now seems to be a successful escape from his past. Though little more is known of Roddy, it is believed that he remains unarmed yet very dangerous.
For most of his early days, Brian lived a self-sustaining life deep in the wilderness of the woods. Living mostly in leaves and war-paint, he tried to limit his contact with the outside world, effectively restricting his supply acquisition missions to a seasonal basis, and always late at night. These assignments grew increasingly dangerous as daring children in the nearby village, enamoured with tales of ‘the creature in the woods’, would stay up to chase him back through the bush to his hermitage. Unable to survive without a fresh stockpile of produce and pornography, Brian would throw potatoes in the air while making explosion sounds after each retrieval mission to fend off his young and curious intruders.
Joe lived a very interesting young life, experiencing more in his early existence than most will in five lives. In the thick of the city, Joe lived in a wilderness that was much more than metaphorical. In the early industrial era of alleged advancement, his family pledged that they would hold on to their earth despite the city’s spread. Thus, Joe lived with his family in the woods which sprawled across four city blocks, fulfilling the vow of his father’s fathers. With as many admirers as detractors, Joe’s family lived lives in and out of the woods, both welcoming and warding off various people with a wary watch.
Marc complemented his inherent musical genius with hours of tireless practice and performance, mostly in front of his collection of ‘indoor’ lawn gnomes. Raising himself in relative solitude, Marc lived in the Swedish nether-regions of Northern Alberta. Tucked away amidst the tick and tock of a cottage full of clocks, Marc fiddled with his many organs and various other instruments, making music in symphony with mankind’s metronome. Very interested in the arts, Marc moved to Toronto seeking a more creative environment than was accessible in Alberta.
Many years ago, Gordie was a very promising athlete, considered at the time to be one of Canada’s young rising hockey stars. The focus of country-wide attention just prior to the NHL entry draft, Gordie was even invited to have breakfast with the Prime Minister. Restless the night before, he overslept and missed the breakfast. Inexplicably, this had an immense impact on him and turned his world upside down. No longer interested in sports, he travelled the globe searching for answers. Before long, his quest ended just as fruitlessly as it had begun and after living for a short time as a Trappist Monk in a Kentucky monastery, Gordie eventually settled back in Toronto. He worked as many hours as possible as a prison guard, saving large amounts money which he seldom spent. During his very little spare time, Gordie also played lots of banjo in his quiet and unfurnished basement apartment.
Separately, The Saltwater Cowboys clearly led fascinating and distinctive lives. As a collective, The Saltwater Cowboys banded together slowly but surely, with less than a whispered whim of a goal. Not quite the last thing in their minds, charting a musical course was certainly not where this ragged group seemed destined. They encountered each other in vastly different environments, casually growing together while steadily accumulating a combined worth previously unfathomable. With each other as the only constants in a world of spinning backgrounds, The Saltwater Cowboys struck out to carve themselves a corner.
* * * * *
The Saltwater story really begins with Roddy, who, after living many years of the laid back fishing life, heeded the call to “Go West Son”. Relaxed and ready for anything, Roddy traversed through the harshest of weather, women and wine as he made his westward way. Midway through northern Ontario, where Roddy sought temporary refuge from the density and diversity of southern Ontario’s city populations, he wandered into the woods late at night ready to set up camp and rest. Just as he was nodding off he heard the fierce rustling of leaves and rushing of feet. He saw a large shadowed figure dash deeper into the thick of the forest, followed by a small group of much slighter silhouettes. Puzzled by what seemed like the sound of distant explosions, Roddy arose to investigate just before being violently struck in the head with a huge potato. He awoke some time later to see a large man covered in leaves and dark green paint standing inquisitively overtop of him. This man, of course, was Brian, who quickly became a good friend of Roddy’s. Not too much longer after this, Roddy convinced Brian to join him on his un-compassed journey.
The two set out to conquer the sprawling metropolis of Toronto, though both unsure how or why. Before long they ran into “Jungle” Joe Gasparik, who lived in a wilderness all his own. In the middle of city life’s frantic pace and caged in by technology and the World Wide Web, Joe lived in the world wide woods of his mind. Though some years their junior, Joe fit in perfectly with Roddy and Brian, sharing more than just humour and musical taste. This only helped to affirm Joe’s past assertions that he was born well behind his time.
Marc Koecher came into the picture when the gang of three encountered him at the Toronto lakefront where he was taking snapshots of seagulls. Noting the expensive camera, Roddy figured he could pawn it off for a few meals and temporary lodgings. Demanding that he stay with his camera in their custody, Marc humbled himself into hostage status, still clinging to the hope that he could coax his camera back out of their greedy but needy hands. Roddy convinced the gang that this venture into crime was a wise way to avoid work while still bringing in some money. After the camera’s worth was swiftly spent, it was decided that a ransom would be taken out for Marc. In only a few days together, Marc had already become an important part of this growing collective and he was eventually befriended after offering continuous assurances that there was nobody from whom his ransom would be paid. Coming from the same school of music (and both somewhat younger than Roddy and Brian), Joe and Marc found a common bond, realizing also that they shared as much in their general outlook as they did in musical taste.
As chance would have it, Roddy, Brian and Joe were briefly incarcerated for their involvement in a botched bank robbery. While in prison, they welcomed prison guard Gordie, who became their prison guardian (a.k.a. Uncle Gordie), into their close circle. Since Marc was in the getaway vehicle during the failed heist, he went unnoticed by the police and was left with the task of acquiring suitable quarters to accommodate the gang upon their triumphant return from jail. Marc furnished their clubhouse with everything he had brought from his home in Alberta, and when the jailbirds flew free, Uncle Gordie was also in tow.
While Roddy was charismatic and exciting enough to lure him in, Gordie was soon disillusioned when he found that everyone else in the group was as unsure as he was regarding their next step. Luckily, the setting Marc created for the group had an atmosphere that made passing time a pleasure. Facing considerable difficulty in devising their next scheme, the band eventually resigned from conspiring for a while and each decided to pick up an instrument to kill some time. Supplied with more instruments than money in the bank, thanks to Marc, everyone had a chance to find the right musical match. After all, if you try on enough shoes, one pair is bound to fit. After trading in their bandit’s boots, they finally found their musical roots. Unable to hatch an effective scheme, their career in crime died as a dream, while their musical truth began to grow, and lead them places they still don’t know.
The Saltwater Cowboys all pursued different directions getting here; they took more or less turns getting to the same place and spent more or less time filling the same space, but every moment they spend together and every sound they make together is worth exactly the same to each member. While every one may have done a great deal with their individual gifts and abilities, these five very special and secluded characters came together to generate a greatness that can only be communal. Their sound is not in-your-face, unless you find it and face it. You have to be completely willing to go out of the way to truly connect with their earthy tones and thoroughly rural rock. Start digging.