The Chill is the thrill for two ‘old’ friends
From heavy metal to electronic dance music, the beat goes on
Friendship sometimes knocks twice, even in young people’s lives; and the second time it might come in through a different door.
And so it is with Brady Caprice and Holden Fritz. They played together in a heavy metal band, The Advocate, Brady on drums, Holden on guitar.
They toured around the province a bit, such was their budding success.
“It was hardcore metal, not Satanic stuff, but, you know, we didn’t smile,” says Brady, smiling now, reflecting on those years. Not so long ago, 2009ish. But it
seems a long time, the other side of a bridge.
When they were in The Advocate, though he was only 21, Brady knew.
“I really wanted to make it, and three of the five guys were down with that, but the others were not willing to give it their all,” says Brady, now 28.
Holden was just a teenager, with a world of music to explore, not ready to lock in with metal. The band broke up, drifted apart.
No hard feelings, but no soft landings, either. Brady was disappointed. Still, he moved on, hit the gym, became a health coach. Holden studied music at Fanshaw College in London.
“Then we ran into each other at the library,” says Holden, now 25 years old.
Summer 2016. Just by chance. Seven years had elapsed but their mutual love of music was undiminished.
“We made plans to hang out, and Brady came over. I showed him the new music I was making,” says Holden.
Not metal. Almost the opposite. This was chill/vibe dance music, electronic, EDM, made with software, synthesizers, edited samples of sound, voices and instrumentation chopped up and reconstituted around these swelling “beats” and “drops” and infectious movements, from hook to hook. When “live,” it’s played on turntables.
Brady instantly related, he felt musically re-electrified.
So they kept meeting, made music, called themselves “Let’s Chill,” and now their songs, each carefully and exactingly crafted, each taking months to get down, are getting thousands of hits on sites such as Spotify, Facebook and YouTube (see letschill.ca).
They get together every day as their day jobs allow and they work on songs, like “Always Dreaming,” “Falling,” and “These Nights.” Part of the process is a miles-long daily hike, often along the Bruce Trail, to talk about the music, what they want to do, the process, bounce ideas and riffs off each other.
Brady ran into me at a coffee shop recently and said, “Maybe you’d be interested ...?”
I told him I don’t really write about music. But I do write about friendships, mostly seasoned ones, decades in the unfolding, so I agreed to come out to Holden’s, where the music’s mad, to get a sense of how the younger half lives.
When I visited, first of all, the music (not the kind I’m used to listening to) danced right across my neurons. It’s joy music — hard to describe, even harder not to move to, feel good to, as it physically goes through you.
Some songs are more “chill,” some more dance. Some vocals, some instrumental. But all the “sounds” are utterly involving.
It’s not stacked amps and effects pedals any more. It’s hard drives, monitors, digital editing displays. A “real” drum set sits to the side, looking forlorn, anachronistic.
In a few minutes the two are lost in the fun of it; I feel like the drum set and I mean that in a good way.
“With this project we’re both dedicated equally,” says Holden.
“We’re following a dream,” says Brady. “We shake hands on every single sound that goes in.”
The friendship? It’s still coming through the door, the music pouring in with it.
It feels good to hear. It feels ... young. In my era we had a phrase. What was it again? Oh yeah. “The Kids Are Alright.”