There are oceans. Masses of water surrounded by the brimming wilderness, towered over by bustling cities, once kingdoms, powerfully etched by every bit of manmade influence. They’re built up, torn down, arranged and rearranged, and yet there are still oceans in between.
Much like a pulse, be it a whimper or roar, they shift, swell, and at times remain stagnant. We overlook it. As an ocean or subconsciously within, we forget about those shifts and swells, every bit of love and loss that sinks into that heaping grey mass. And yet that grey remains palpably tucked away, perhaps in limbo, but entirely reachable – aching to be tapped into.
Consider the tales of Spencer Burton, an Ontario boy, raised across the country in beautiful British Columbia with a hankering for travel, farm life and the great beyond, Burton’s upbringings are as sincere as his demeanor.
Teenage years of strumming in the Welland, ON music scene would blossom his twenty-somethings into constant road mileage playing in the critically lauded Attack In Black. Cities upon cities, always moving, writing, performing, Burton’s experiences were absorbed along the way. Sometimes shrewd, often reflective, his occurrences had callused into their own form of beauty.