Dan Edmonds

Bio

Good Fortune Assembly Notes

We begin with the Pietà. Edmonds stands back taking in the work of Michelangelo, wondering if this is how it’s all bound to end, with even the masterworks overrun by bored tourists.

Then, on “Before We Make it Real,” we get our first glimpse of what will carry Edmonds through all the doubt that is to follow, namely, his dear friends. Edmonds calls the song“ a celebration of collaboration, of community, and shared warmth.” A small choir of collaborators intones along, lending strength to the tentative resolve of his melody: No more delusions. Let’s keep moving.

And so begins the album-long drift onGood Fortune Assembly, between contentment and despair, between the assuredness of Jason Bhattacharya’s downbeat and the endless seeking of Rich Burnett’s steel guitar.

Sure, good friends are close-at-hand, but “The Morning” finds Edmonds waking early to a cold, colourless apartment. His beloved has departed and all that is left are the dregs of a dream – a hazy vision of one perfect night in an Ethiopian restaurant. What then does it mean to keep singing despite the losses? Are these songs acts of love or something Edmonds ought to grow out of? Into all of this uncertainty flies the wild pathos of Joseph Shabason’s saxophone, slashing a hole through the fabric of the song and allowing the Assembly to pour back in.

Here, Edmonds exits the stage for a song or two, and out of the silence comes the voice of the Chorus – played here by Luka Kuplowsky – the loyal friend who saw this coming, who sweetly consoles. Together with Dorothea Paas, who has been affirming each line all along, the pair call to the singer in the wings,How many times have you hid, making life less than what it is?

“Wass II” finds Edmonds harmonizing with himself across time, looking back and wondering whether maybe this retrospection is part of moving forward. The losses are still present, but there’s another world already in rotation; the rain is still pouring down, but it’s starting to get warmer.

On the album’s final song, “Perfection Doesn’t Exist,” Edmonds is still searching for away to continue on, but something has shifted. The verses are slighter and more compressed, almost haiku. Each note of the song’s refrain keeps rising out into the air, never quite resolving but searching higher and higher. Perhaps this singing was never a matter of choice – Edmonds’ final word to us comes in the form of a question:How do you let the day, let it go by without an impression?

And so, dear listener, these nine impressions are yours to consider. Enjoy your good fortune, draw close to this music and bask in the warmth of all those assembled.