Daniel Lapp is more than an engrossing Wikipedia read, but I’d start there. It’ll tell you of his prowess on the trumpet, voice (not at the same time), and violin, how he’s collected and written thousands of fiddle tunes, rubbed shoulders with some giants in the music business, is an artistic director at the Victoria Conservatory of Music, a teacher and performer. The Wiki page is a primer. Continue reading for the paint job.
Since 1990 or so, it’s been almost impossible to spend a night in a pub, at least any Canadian one, and not hear ‘Home for a Rest,’ Spirit of the West’s raucous anthem to touring and boozing off their fourth studio album Save This House. If you happen to have played night after night with the band, you’d think that when asked for a rock ‘n’ roll story (you know, just to add colour to the piece), you’d pull a beer-soaked goodie from the SOTW annals.
“One point that played a big part in my career was at the end of a European tour with Rickie Lee Jones. We were all at Heathrow Airport. Everyone was flying in different directions. Home to Paris. Home to New York. Home to Los Angeles. And I was flying home to Victoria. I had a real epiphany,” says Daniel.
Awesome. He’s going to trash the departure lounge.
“This was 15 years ago or so. I married early and then divorced. And then had two kids from that marriage, so I didn’t stray very far from Victoria. I always thought I would live in New York or Berlin. And I never did it. I don’t know how you’d explain the feeling… a certain amount of sadness and remorse that I’d missed the boat or something like that.”
I’d call it twangs of phantom nostalgia. You know, I didn’t even do these things, and now I miss them.
“At the airport I realized, and I have to admit to myself that I was glad to be getting on the plane and flying home to Victoria and not one of those other cities that I always thought I was meant to live in.”
For the record, it’s my understanding that the grass isn’t even that green in any of those cities.
“On the flight home, a lot of things changed for me,” Daniel continues. “I arrived in Victoria and, at that point in my life, that pressure that I’d put on myself all those years, that ambitious pressure just kind of dropped away, and I really felt more grounded than I had ever felt in my adult life at that point. I embraced my life in Western Canada.”
“A lot of things shifted,” he recalls. “I started to enjoy my teaching more because I started to get to know the kids more. I wasn’t living with one foot out the door saying, ‘well, I can teach you for a month, but I don’t know where I’ll be the next month’ because that was the story of my life for a long time. Before I joined SOTW, I was in 13 bands at one time in Vancouver. I tried everything, and I loved it all. Free jazz, Dixieland, independent rock bands, Bluegrass, Irish, everything. But there was something that shifted for me (on the flight from Paris). And I wasn’t feeling that regret anymore that I’d never lived in those big cities. I felt like this is home and there’s no reason I can’t pursue music from here and be serious about it.”
Let’s go back to the beginning.
“I started singing in a choir when I was five. Started piano at eight and violin at nine. And all the while singing. It seemed really clear to me when I was 10, when I was singing in music festivals and local musicals and things that I was going to be a professional singer.”
And then he had a setback.
“During a run of Oliver Twist: my voice started changing. I turned 12 during the run, and by the end of it, I was not a boy soprano anymore.”
Joining the ranks of the castrati was not an option in Prince George in the ’70s. But tumbling down the octave ladder during Oliver Twist did not spell doom. Please, he wanted more.
“In some ways, I’m still getting over this. It sounds so bizarre, but it comes up quite a bit in my life. I sing a lot now, but there was a freedom that I sang with when I was 11 that I’ve never felt since. I think that’s part of what keeps me singing because I know there’s more, and I’m trying to find that freedom that I could sing with when I was 11.”
Daniel’s passion for music is delivered with a two-pronged approach.
“When I was starting out in my career, my ambition was all about performing and touring all around the world, playing the jazz clubs in Europe,” he says. “I didn’t see myself as a teacher. When I settled down with family when I was still young that was part of the necessity of making a living. I was living in Victoria, and you really couldn’t make your living as a musician in Victoria as gigs were paying 50 bucks a night. Going for long tours was not really an option because I had young kids. So, I kind of stumbled into teaching.”
“I hadn’t considered it before. But I did it and that kind of snowballed. I think my passion is for music in general but maybe specifically fiddle music after it was passed on to me by my grandfather and five uncles and my mom and her sisters — they were old-time musicians — I think I knew right away when I started teaching that it was more than teaching the fiddle.”
“It was teaching a language. It was teaching part of our history. I was really thrilled when some young kid was interested in learning the fiddle. That was just kind of off-the-wall to me because there aren’t many of us really in the grand scheme of things that are drawn to fiddle music. So, I did enjoy it and then I started performing with my kids, my students. That was a thrill, and I could see what a spark it was for them. It has become a bigger part of my life than I thought it would.”
But the creative mistress is a seductive and persistent one.
“There’s this voice inside saying, ‘you gotta do this.’ For me, that is recording and performing. I hope that I’ll play well into my twilight years. I feel like I’m playing as strong as I ever have, and I’m working on new things all the time these days. That’s just me and my instrument discovering new things and working on things that I have meant to work on for a long time. I feel in some ways musically speaking and as far as my ideas, I’m getting better. I’m not putting too much pressure on myself right now, but I’m definitely paying attention to that desire, and I really want to honour it, which might mean teaching less.”
This pandemic has yielded a few surprisingly sweet nuggets.
“Most of the composing I do is instrumental,” says Daniel. “A blitz of writing tunes was just a goal I’d set. The first goal was to write a song for each of my nieces and nephews. And then the grand-nieces and nephews. And then I thought all my siblings should have songs. And then I thought, ‘geez I’m getting pretty close to 56, so I’m going to write 56 tunes this year. Then I thought I’ll try and write 100 tunes in the year and that was the goal. I wrote 103.”
“Maybe one of the gifts I got from COVID was I had several months where everything just kind of stopped. That’s the first time in my life where I’d ever just stopped the chaos, the rat race of hustling gigs and organizing lessons. There was a real gift in just stopping for a while. This relaxed state just helped, and for that year, every time I picked up my fiddle I just knew, just as I was picking it up and pulling it up to my chin, I could just tell that there was a tune coming. Put my finger on a string, put the bow down, and it would just go. In five or 10 minutes, I’d have a new tune. Some days, I’d write four or five tunes.”
There are new horizons for Daniel. And they are broad ones.
“I am single again, so I’m looking at this next phase of my life and thinking this is not where I thought I was going to be. I thought the second marriage was a keeper,” he muses. “It didn’t last. There is something kind of terrifying about being older and being single. Not to mention the toll it takes on finances and looking how to stabilize my life and my future. I didn’t think that I would teach until 65, but I probably will at this point now.”
Daniel bought 35 acres of land in the Cariboo near where he grew up. He’s doing what he calls “part-time homesteading.” Last summer, he moved a cabin onto the property and, this summer, he’ll start renovating it.
“I have been so focused on just being a musician my whole life, I’m just trying to learn a bunch of new skills to pull off this homesteading. I’m trying to stay in shape… have to be able to go up there and haul a chainsaw around, jump down off my truck, and dig holes and lift boards. So, during the year now when I’m in Victoria teaching, I’m exercising, eating healthy, and trying to maintain good health as I get older.”
“I have three girls and my son is 11. I want to keep one step ahead of him for a while yet. That’s inspiring me to stay as healthy as I can. I told him I’m going to celebrate his 40th birthday with him!”
The land purchase has revealed some full-circle observations.
“I’m trying to channel my farming ancestors and my dad who was a bit of a Renaissance man with a lot of different skills. I’m doing a lot of reading and when I’m there, it’s like I’m literally trying to open my mind up to this potential that I’m hoping I have inside me. It’s terrifying, but there’s something thrilling. If I’d had the money to buy a place in Victoria, I would have bought it, and I would never have had this opportunity that I have now to discover this whole other side to who I am and who I can be. As overwhelmed as I am about it, I’m excited.”
But whether in the woods or Wall Street, escaping our essence is nearly impossible.
“I really want to spend the next 10 years recording as much as I can, and hopefully that will lead to some touring, too. I try to keep my finger on the pulse of the younger generation who are innovative and doing new and cool things.”
Thirty-five acres. The Cariboo Folk Festival? Retreat and Record in The Lapp of Luxury? Well, nature anyway. Daniel’s got options. And you can bet that cabin will be filled with the sound of his music.
Music is a universal language. Cliché of clichés. But that’s because it’s true. If you play the language in your parents’ basement to no one, then die with it inside you, what good have you done? The language may as well have been Latin. Wait, I’m being too hard on Latin. It’s given us things like rigor mortis, carpe diem, et cetera. The point is Daniel Lapp spoke the language, shared it, taught it, defined, and refined it. He has sung its praises from the biggest stages to the tiniest classrooms. And he has no intention of stopping.
SIDEBAR
If you were to meet your 20-year-old self, what would you tell him?
“Don’t wait for the phone to ring – and don’t expect it to either.”
Who or what has most influenced you and why?
“I’d say my grandfather. His name was Daniel Wutzke who was a fiddling farmer on the prairies. The way he lived his life… he was a practical man. He played the fiddle for his community. He recognized that he had a role to play in those Saturday night dances. He went to great lengths to make that an important part of his life. He brought a lot of joy to a lot of people. His commitment to his family and his community.”
What keeps you grounded?
“I’m not always grounded, and I’ve come to accept that about myself. In fact, it’s an important part of who I am – that I live between these worlds of creative and emotional spaces and touch down every so often to deal with practical issues. But when I need it, I find it in daily routines – practising scales, breathing, meditation and kick boxing.”
What are you most grateful for?
“A couple of things. I’m grateful for the opportunity to be a father. I have four kids. I’m also grateful for the opportunity to pursue the passion that has possessed me since I was a kid. And that is music. I know not everyone in the world enjoys such freedom.”
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