// Letters to YVYNYL //

premiere: Harrison Caldeira - Higher

 / Music is, as many of us know, a true medicine, healing some of the most difficult problems life sends our way. I know a lot about this from personal experience myself, but it makes me happy to receive letters from folks who know the immediate value of music. Create it, listen to it, share it. Those vibrations are the ones that make the most challenging moments palpable, if not downright medicinal.

Dear Mark,

I have always known music. It has been my comfort. My peace. Sitting in the bathtub as a toddler, I would laugh with happiness, as my dad would sing The Beatles’ “Hello Goodbye” on repeat. And I would request it every time. He would later inspire me to pick up a guitar myself at the age of twelve. It quickly became apart of my life. But I never realized how much it meant to me until it was taken away.

I’ve found that as you get older, it’s easier to let the world get inside your head. Having graduated high school, I figured I ought to put myself on a more “serious” path. I put music at the back of my mind for a while and decided to pursue an academic life at university, thinking that sooner or later I would find a suitable career.

But on February 14, 2011, everything changed. Late that night, I had a seizure and was hospitalized until morning. Six months later I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. I decided to move back home and transferred to a local university in order to receive treatment closer to home. 

In December of that same year, shortly after having been diagnosed, I suffered a paralyzing relapse that debilitated my motor skills. Much of the strength and coordination in my hands, legs and feet was lost. I experienced problems with my speech, and I soon felt completely defeated. One day, my dad had asked me to pick up the guitar and play something for him. I’ll never forget the feeling I had as I strummed hopelessly and realized with agony, that I couldn’t play anymore. It was at that point that I discovered how important my relationship with music is.

I think that having experiences like these can either make or break you. Or both. After my diagnosis, I found myself in a really dark place, and I felt every minute of it. But my MS has given me much more than it can ever take away. It brought me exactly to where I need to be, where I’ve always needed to be—where my heart’s always been. I picked up the guitar, and I taught myself how to play, all over again. It was frustrating beyond words. And more than once I wanted to give up. But once in remission, I had a new perspective on what mattered in my life.

And a new determination. So I began to write. After I wrote my first album HIS·STORY, I left Canada to travel around Europe for a year. While I lived in France, it was difficult to communicate with people due to the language barrier. In these moments, I turned to songwriting to express myself. I took the Mumford and Sons approach to writing music. I wrote as many songs as I could, then from sixty or so songs, I chose my best six. When I came home, I recorded these songs at Splintered Wood Records. We were just two people for one big project, and I can’t thank him enough for the work he did.

Through endless re-recordings and re-writes, the final product came to be. I feel as if I’m always trying to get what I feel inside, out through music … it’s an impossible task, but I try to get as close as possible. I’m driven by that need to be truly venerable with myself and with my music.

Best,

H

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