David Lafleche had been gestating his Americana album for awhile. Country-tinged folk, cleverly crafted, introspective songs, reminiscient of James Taylor or Jack Johnson. It’s a project that was in no rush. His project. His nine songs.

The album is called Everyday Son.

“It’s a gentle portrait of my life, an album about my family,” says Lafleche. “I decided to quit the world of television last fall. I don’t want to work like a madman and then dress up before going onstage. It’s all very well to work at the MELS (studio) 16 hours a day for something that no longer exists the next day, but after all these years, I feel like I’ve come full circle.”

Lafeleche is the musical director at the ADISQ Gala, musical director for several years at La Voix and Bons baisers de France, composer of the soundtrack to the movie Starbuck. His hectic and high-profile life, which he shares with Marie-Mai, had become exhausting.

“My TV job was a lot of things, not just music director or conductor,” he says. “At 49, I felt like re-inventing myself and jumping into the unknown. I’ll still take on the occasional contract for TV work.

“What I found hard was to prioritize myself. Caring for myself. Not just for one day,” says the man, also the father of a four-year-old girl. “I don’t have a songwriting muscle that I can just flex, and out comes a song! I had to find out what my voice is, what my style is, what I want and have to say. It took awhile, and wasn’t easy to give myself the space and time to do all that.”

Co-produced with Connor Seidel, who has notably worked with Matt Holubowski, Everyday Son was born in Nashville. Lafleche had made a few pilgrimages to Music City before, but this time he was reunited with an old friend he met at the Berklee College of Music when he was 18, drummer Fred Eltringham.

“We were reunited by chance, 25 years later, on the set of La Voix!” says Lafleche. “He was playing with Sheryl Crow. It was like being reunited with your best friend. Then two years ago he was named the best drummer in Nashville!”

Banjo, violin, standup bass, pedal steel guitar; Lafleche surrounded himself with seasoned luminaries of their instruments. “I recorded my record with strangers who have an unbelievable track record,” he says. “I had so much respect and admiration for them that I just let them do their thing. I was in the middle and just played my songs.”

He used only one guitar for the album, his beloved 1946 00-18 Martin. “Had it been just me in my studio having fun with my electrics, the album would’ve been entirely different,” says Lafleche. “My love of music starts with an instrument that vibrates. I would finger-pick and ideas would emerge.

“I’m constantly recording 20-second snippets of melodies on my phone. For example, sitting on my stoop watching a loon will make me feel an emotion which I translate into music and save for later. I then drew on all those ideas during my five-week stay in Nashville.

“We had to deliver, and I’m good in that kind of situation, that’s my strength in the TV world. When I flew back to Montréal, all the instrumentals were recorded. The only thing left to do were the voice tracks and that’s where Connor [Seidel] came in.”

Listen to “Training Wheels,” and the resonance of the purring guitar. Gentleness all around. Or “Counting Lights,”  where David tells us about driving back and forth on highway 15, the melody caressed by Russ Pahl’s pedal steel guitar. “We Collided,” a Jack Johnson-esque ballad, certainly isn’t out of place in this Americana bouquet.

“My partner Charles-Émile Beaudin, who did the recording on site for these sessions, just had to lift the faders, there’s never anything in the way of anything else, that’s how I work,” Lafleche explains, about the sonic clarity of Everyday Son. “Joe Costa put all his skills into the final mix of the album.”

Marie-Mai co-wrote eight of the nine songs, and she sings on one of them, giving the lion’s share of the vocals to Julie Da Silva, the guitarist’s inseparable backing singer from La Voix. On “Better Run,” our diva duets with her lover. “My challenge right now is to remember my lyrics,” says Lafleche. “Marie-Mai will listen to a song once and be able to sing the whole thing back to you!”

But the real crush on this accomplished record, beyond these brilliantly constructed and lovingly concocted songs, is his voice. It’s unbelievably efficient, poised, and never fake. It’s a genuine leather voice. You don’t just hear it, you feel it.



If all that you needed to know about  producer Mohkom Singh Bhangal – a.k.a. Money Musik – could be compressed into one stat, it’s this one: Bhangal estimates that in 2020 alone, he composed more than 1,000 beats.

“I’m up to around 460 this year,” the human beat machine explains from the Los Angeles abode of Navraj Singh Goraya – better known as Nav – where Bhangal is currently living. “It takes me 30 minutes to make a beat.”

Currently, the artist who hears most of his creations first is Nav, who’s factored in 15.3 million records sold as an artist, and another 3.7 million as a producer. He scored his first two Billboard chart-topping albums with Money Musik working the boards: 2019’s Bad Habits and 2020’s Good Intentions.

Bad Habits was a great moment,” Bhangal recalls. “This was the first album I’d ever been on that’s a major album. I worked on 14 songs on that, and it went to No. 1 – it was definitely a confidence booster.”

It’s also something of a Cinderella story, because when Bhangal was a 15-year-old teenager, and his interest in producing and making beats was in its infancy, who did he text for advice? Nav.

“Back then he had 500 followers, and he posted videos of his beats,” Bhangal recalls. “And I thought, ‘I want to learn how to do that.’” So he messaged Nav and inquired about what he would need to do in order to establish himself as a producer. “Nav told me, “FL Studio, Logic Pro, get some speakers. Just the basic stuff.

“After that conversation, I went the next day with my mom to Long & McQuade and – because I was already working a day job – I bought $2,000 worth of equipment: a computer, some speakers, a MIDI keyboard, stuff like that. And I’ve been grinding ever since.”

That was the only contact he had with Nav, and over the next three years, Money Musik  worked with local Toronto artists K. Money, Pressa, WhyG, Casper TNG, and LB Spiffy, growing his  street cred. Sometime before he worked on the 88Glam track “I’m Fresh” featuring Nav, the two proudly Brown musicians re-connected, and Bhangal ended up secretly working on Bad Habits. “I didn’t post anything about it, so no one knew,” he admits.

Today, the two are fast friends – and Money Musik insists that that’s as strong a reason as any why their partnership works so well. “I’m living at his house right now,” says Bhangal, who’s also worked with KILLY, and recently produced the entire AP Dhillon and Gurinder Gill album Not By Chance. “Over the years, we’ve been building the connection, staying in the studio,” he says. “We just built up the team, making it more like a family, and not just strictly work.”

Breaking down the essence of the collaborative relationship, Money Musik is currently filling Nav’s home with the sounds of beats. “I’m always making beats at the house,” he says. “I make beats every single day, so I have beats stacked up. So either I’ll go to the studio and play some beats, and if he likes them, he might tell the engineer to ‘load this one up,’ and he’ll freestyle, punching-in [his vocals] line-by-line.

“But he makes beats as well – so sometimes he’ll play some melodies, and I’ll do the drums. Usually, when we’re in the studio, we’ll start from scratch. But there’s been times when I’ve played a beat and he’ll just go on it straight from then, depending on the vibe.” If Nav rejects them, Bhangal exports them to other artists.

Still employing FL Studio 11, Bhangal says the biggest challenge for him is arranging the beat: “You don’t want too much going on in the beat, where the artist can’t rap on it;  you still need space where the artist can go,” he says. “You don’t want it to be cluttered.”

Bhangal is also focused on expanding his palate. “I’d like to go more dark, more epic,” he explains. “For me, I’d love to make dark, classical [music], some strings, pianos, flutes – using real instruments, for sure.  You feel the emotion in it as well. At the end of the day, it’s about the emotion and how it makes you feel. If it brings emotion to me and I feel it, then for sure I like it.”

At the moment, Money Musik is working on his own Spotify playlist, and says he’s looking forward to the day he finally lands a Top 10 song on the Billboard Hot 100. And he’s willing to wait. “It all comes with time, and whenever it comes, it’ll be a blessing,” he says. “I’m just taking it step-by-step.”

Edmonton native Darren Fung didn’t need to take home the 2021 Canadian Screen Award for which he was nominated (in the Best Non-Fiction Music category) to feel like he’s won.

He already had two, for The Great Human Odyssey in 2016 and Equus: Story of the Horse in 2019. The latest nod was for A Bee’s Diary, and all three have been CBC co-productions.

“It sounds so cliché,” he says, “but it’s really such an honour to be nominated and, in my mind, the nomination means more than the actual award. The nomination is from a jury of your peers; they’ve taken the time to watch it and say, ‘Hey, this stands out from the rest.’ I mean, we can get into the politics of voting and all of that stuff, but for me, the nomination is really the big thing. I’m obviously very proud, very humbled by it.” The awards will be presented on May 20, 2021.

Fung, a McGill graduate, has more than 100 TV and film scoring credits to his name, including his re-imagining of the nationally treasured “Hockey Theme” for CTV and TSN. While all three of the aforementioned documentaries have been nature-oriented, Fung applies the same exacting criteria for his work on more conventional commissions.

“In my mind, [they’re] not different,” he says, on the phone from his home in Los Angeles. “At the end of the day, you’re telling a story; it’s all about storytelling through music. The tools are the same, whether you’re doing a fiction film, or a documentary, or, quite frankly, a commercial. You’re calling upon that same palette… I’ve always said that I don’t treat the genre of film any different than any other. It’s always a question of, how do we tell the story, and how can my music complement that?”

Writing music to order for someone else’s project is vastly different from writing for yourself. “The screen composer’s job isn’t to write the music that they want for it, it’s to write the music that’s right for the film and for what the filmmakers want,” says Fung.

“That’s one of the big challenges for young screen composers. Everyone has some sort of romantic vision of what a screen composer is, but the reality is that you have to accept the fact that someone else is calling the shots. There’s a lot of people who go into this profession not realizing that, and they get really disenchanted. They don’t get to write what they want to write. You [might] write an amazing piece of music, but it just doesn’t work, and it can be really disheartening at times.”

On the other hand, when you get it right, you might be taking home an award for it.

Streaming Status: Where Composers Stand

(May 30, 2019), Fung had an opinion column published in the Toronto Star advocating for more discussions between various trade organizations and the government about regulating “brutally unfair” subscription services. “In an era of record profits from streaming services and internet service providers, we are seeing the rich get richer and a creative middle class that is shrinking.” Has he seen any progress? “I think that right now, there are people who are on the case, in terms of putting the right pressure on the right people with the new changes to the Broadcast Act,” he says. “I think SOCAN, together with all of the trade organizations – like the Screen Composers Guild of Canada, SPACQ, the Songwriters Association of Canada – I think we’ve played our cards fairly well in terms of advocating to the right people in Ottawa, and saying, ‘Hey, that to sustain the industry in this way, we have to re-imagine it.’ The battle is a long one, right? That’s one of the frustrations that a lot of music creators have. We’re so used to working on quick turnaround times, and from gig to gig, so it’s hard to see the long picture with the amount of time and energy and advocacy we put into it. It’s frustrating that it’s not moving faster. But that’s sort of the way that Ottawa and policy change on that big level works. Is change in the air? Yes. Has change happened? Not quite yet.”