Music
Press
As an album, Lucky Sonne intriduces a striking new songwriting voice to Canadian music, injecting some liveliness and personality into the dusty corners of folk rock that prairie boys have always been so adept at producing. Captured on tape by Calgary producer Arran Fisher, Colborne's songs creak and moan, shudder and jump. A surprising range is revealed in the elegant narrative of "Thanksgiving," the jaunty keyboards of "Stop Holdin On," and the true-heart pop sentimentality of "Still." - Mark Hamilton - Swerve Magazine - Calgary 2008
As an album, Lucky Sonne intriduces a striking new songwriting voice to Canadian music, injecting some liveliness and personality into the dusty corners of folk rock that prairie boys have always been so adept at producing. Captured on tape by Calgary producer Arran Fisher, Colborne's songs creak and moan, shudder and jump. A surprising range is revealed in the elegant narrative of "Thanksgiving," the jaunty keyboards of "Stop Holdin On," and the true-heart pop sentimentality of "Still." - Mark Hamilton - Swerve Magazine - Calgary 2008
Some believe that there is classism at work in music.
There are those who think that there are songs and albums made exclusively by and for, perhaps, a more cerebral group (“stupid college boys,” some might grumble) and those that have been dumbed down to be dumbly appreciated (“idiot flyover rock,” others might poo-poo).
Perhaps. But unfortunately, like everything in life, when you think that way, when your narrow view is entirely black and white, you miss out on some pretty fabulous music made by someone from what you perceive to be the other colour of the collar.
Keep that in mind when you hear the music — and whoever you are, you should — of Luke Colborne, who records under the name of Lucky Sonne.
“Blue collar all the way,” the local artist says matter-of-factly over a couple of pops at the Ship & Anchor Pub. “The rock and the dirt and the mud and the grime — that’s me.”
It is. But it isn’t. And it describes his music. But it doesn’t do it justice.
For his part, Colborne calls what he does “northwestern alternative folk,” and that’s as apt a descriptor as any.
It’s genuine, smart and heartfelt, open-spaced roots-rock with some gritty, boozy punk edge, akin to, say, late and lamented Alberta band Jr. Gone Wild and American songwriter Bobby Bare Jr., or such classic touchstones and influences as Dylan, Young and Steve Earle. Colborne won many over in the city with that sound when he released the self-titled Lucky Sonne debut six years ago, and big things were expected of him.
And then?
“Life happens, work happens, I don’t think I was ready to give music an honest go,” the husband and father of two says of his disappearing act. “But some really good people are stepping up, and they’ve always told me all along that I have the music and the songs and the ability to perform them. Now, I’m 33 — it’s time.” He laughs “I still look sort of young.”
“And I’m tired of digging ditches.” Colborne stops himself. “That’s kind of cliche. I shouldn’t say that.”
Does he literally dig ditches.
“Yeah, yeah I do. Sometimes with a machine, sometimes I’m the machine. But I think music’s my calling. I’m a late bloomer coming to that calling. And I’m ready to struggle again like I used to. You get kind of set in your ways, with a steady paycheque coming in.
“But I have belief in my family and friends that I can make this a living. I’ve got nothing to prove and something to prove all at once. At least to myself.”
That’s why Sunday, with a show at the V Lounge in Bankers Hall, he and his trio — drummer Arran Fisher and bass player John Richards — release not one but two Lucky Sonne recordings, RR One and Trailer. Both are exceptional slices of what he does, albeit recorded in remarkably different fashions. The former was actually recorded a half decade ago, with him shelving it soon after completion.
“It all came together pretty quickly, within about a year, but I wasn’t happy with the way it sounded,” he says. “I wasn’t happy with the process and the mixing — I probably listened to it 200 times and just got a little down on it for whatever reason. . . . I was probably two weeks away from releasing it, getting it made, had the money and everything. And I put it on the back burner.”
There it simmered, until he and producer/bandmate Fisher revisited it last year, polishing it up, reworking the songs until he was happy with them. As for Trailer, that was somewhat less arduous a task, with he and Fisher capturing some natural magic, banging the album out quickly in a small trailer that sits on the sheep and beekeeping farm he, his kids, his wife and her family live on.
“(Trailer) came together like tickety-boo,” he says. “Seriously, we recorded it last summer and it was ready to go. There were no touches or improvements that had to be made. We left the trailer and mixed it and that was it. It was all about the feel.”
And while both albums have, perhaps, two different feels — one polished, one au natu - Calgary Herald
Some believe that there is classism at work in music.
There are those who think that there are songs and albums made exclusively by and for, perhaps, a more cerebral group (“stupid college boys,” some might grumble) and those that have been dumbed down to be dumbly appreciated (“idiot flyover rock,” others might poo-poo).
Perhaps. But unfortunately, like everything in life, when you think that way, when your narrow view is entirely black and white, you miss out on some pretty fabulous music made by someone from what you perceive to be the other colour of the collar.
Keep that in mind when you hear the music — and whoever you are, you should — of Luke Colborne, who records under the name of Lucky Sonne.
“Blue collar all the way,” the local artist says matter-of-factly over a couple of pops at the Ship & Anchor Pub. “The rock and the dirt and the mud and the grime — that’s me.”
It is. But it isn’t. And it describes his music. But it doesn’t do it justice.
For his part, Colborne calls what he does “northwestern alternative folk,” and that’s as apt a descriptor as any.
It’s genuine, smart and heartfelt, open-spaced roots-rock with some gritty, boozy punk edge, akin to, say, late and lamented Alberta band Jr. Gone Wild and American songwriter Bobby Bare Jr., or such classic touchstones and influences as Dylan, Young and Steve Earle. Colborne won many over in the city with that sound when he released the self-titled Lucky Sonne debut six years ago, and big things were expected of him.
And then?
“Life happens, work happens, I don’t think I was ready to give music an honest go,” the husband and father of two says of his disappearing act. “But some really good people are stepping up, and they’ve always told me all along that I have the music and the songs and the ability to perform them. Now, I’m 33 — it’s time.” He laughs “I still look sort of young.”
“And I’m tired of digging ditches.” Colborne stops himself. “That’s kind of cliche. I shouldn’t say that.”
Does he literally dig ditches.
“Yeah, yeah I do. Sometimes with a machine, sometimes I’m the machine. But I think music’s my calling. I’m a late bloomer coming to that calling. And I’m ready to struggle again like I used to. You get kind of set in your ways, with a steady paycheque coming in.
“But I have belief in my family and friends that I can make this a living. I’ve got nothing to prove and something to prove all at once. At least to myself.”
That’s why Sunday, with a show at the V Lounge in Bankers Hall, he and his trio — drummer Arran Fisher and bass player John Richards — release not one but two Lucky Sonne recordings, RR One and Trailer. Both are exceptional slices of what he does, albeit recorded in remarkably different fashions. The former was actually recorded a half decade ago, with him shelving it soon after completion.
“It all came together pretty quickly, within about a year, but I wasn’t happy with the way it sounded,” he says. “I wasn’t happy with the process and the mixing — I probably listened to it 200 times and just got a little down on it for whatever reason. . . . I was probably two weeks away from releasing it, getting it made, had the money and everything. And I put it on the back burner.”
There it simmered, until he and producer/bandmate Fisher revisited it last year, polishing it up, reworking the songs until he was happy with them. As for Trailer, that was somewhat less arduous a task, with he and Fisher capturing some natural magic, banging the album out quickly in a small trailer that sits on the sheep and beekeeping farm he, his kids, his wife and her family live on.
“(Trailer) came together like tickety-boo,” he says. “Seriously, we recorded it last summer and it was ready to go. There were no touches or improvements that had to be made. We left the trailer and mixed it and that was it. It was all about the feel.”
And while both albums have, perhaps, two different feels — one polished, one au natu - Calgary Herald
Discography
Lucky Sonne CDLP (2007)
...recorded in a 40's era barn in the Alberta countryside, giving it a rare and beautiful sound that is at once expansive and intimate.
RR One CDLP (2012)
This is a dense, dark, shapeshifter of a record, with elements of psychedelia and garage rock marauding through its folk-roots sensibilities.
Trailer CDLP (2012)
Recorded in a 6 X 10 travel trailer in the foothills of Priddis, Alberta, one can all but smell the stale beer and overheated amplifiers in every note. But there is tremendous beauty here as well, glinting off the corroded aluminum like diamond dust.
Photos
Bio
I was born ready--the fourth child of six to a rodeo cowdad and a miracle maker mama-- came of age in the woody hills east of Millarville, Alberta--pint sized pioneer--poised and polished performer of American classics: "Bicycle Built for Two", "Side by Side", and "Take Me Out to the Ball Game". By the age of two I could croon in tune on demand.
The rest of my childhood went something like this:
Okotoks, kid sister, baby brother, cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers, Sunday school, street hockey, cod liver oil, hand me downs, paper route, choir boy, chicken pox, sporting life, bed wetter, piano lessons, summer holidays, broken bones, double dare, B grades, D-vorce, quit hockey, Rhode Island, new schools, Washington State, adolescence, high school high.
When I was fifteen, my dear mother bought me a second-hand mass produced department store guitar for Christmas: my first axe. I taught myself to play Dylan's "When the Ship Comes In" and almost immediately started writing my own songs in the John Lennon-Paul Simon-Neil Young-Brian Wilson-Willie Nelson-Hank Williams-Kurt Cobain style (more or less). Impressing girls was the main thrust(!), but music also allowed me to communicate, for the first time, just how good, bad or indifferent I felt in my own way, on my own terms. I was officially a going concern.
I've tended bar and purified acid (phosphoric). I attended college for a time in pursuit of an English degree. I've cut, raked, and baled hay. I've moved earth every which way. I've worked hard at life, lord knows it, but I've always taken time to make music. It's been all about the song all along.
These days I haunt the foothills southwest of Calgary with my wife and two boys, where we keep bees (among other pursuits), and where I write, refine and re-refine my songs. I record in unusual locales using unorthodox methods (a la producer, engineer, and musical everyman Arran Fisher), so my albums sound like nothing you've ever heard. Oh, and when I'm on stage, I don't need to steal the spotlight; it jumps right into my back pocket.
THE BAND-THE SOUND-THE SHOW
Lucky Sonne is a wire-tight, high-energy three-piece band comprised of Luke Colborne, Arran Fisher, and John Richards. On record or on stage, the inimitable Lucky Sonne sound is howly, growly, gritty, and gut-wrenchingly beautiful.
Band Members
Links
