ZOOMER Magazine - - ZOOM IN -

IT’S NICE TO KNOW that there’s enough in­ter­est that I can say no to some things,” Bruce Cock­burn tells me from the road, some­where along the West Coast near San Fran­cisco ahead of a North Amer­i­can tour and new al­bum – Bone on Bone. Ever the wan­der­ing troubadour, the 72-year-old val­ues a bal­ance be­tween tour­ing, trib­utes and tots – specif­i­cally his five-year-old daugh­ter, Iona.

“When you’re 30, if you miss a cou­ple of mo­ments in the child’s devel­op­ment, big deal, be­cause you’re go­ing to see lots of others,” he says. “At this point in my life, I don’t want to miss any­thing be­cause I won’t get a sec­ond chance.”

It’s an interesting di­chotomy – dad to a young daugh­ter at home and mu­si­cal el­der pro­fes­sion­ally. He notes the grat­i­fi­ca­tion that comes from his Cana­dian Song­writ­ers Hall of Fame in­duc­tion this month, an­tic­i­pat­ing a fun night and a stark con­trast from his 2001 Cana­dian Mu­sic Hall of Fame in­duc­tion. “It felt pretty strange. Aren’t you sup­posed to be dead for that? Now I don’t feel like I have to be dead.”

Cock­burn, in­stead, looks to role mod­els like blues man Mis­sis­sippi John Hurt, who enjoyed mu­si­cal rel­e­vance into his later years. As it stands, Cock­burn’s own story, as told in his 2014 mem­oir Ru­mours of Glory, ends at age 59. When asked, how­ever, about a se­quel to doc­u­ment life post-60 and the mu­sic, awards, hon­ours and ex­pe­ri­ences that fol­lowed, Cock­burn seems more con­tent to keep liv­ing it than write about it.

“There’s no plan but it could hap­pen, es­pe­cially if I be­come de­bil­i­tated or if the song-writ­ing thing runs dry,” he says. “There’ll be a story to tell, but whether I’ll get bored enough or live long enough to tell it …” —Mike Criso­lago For the full Bruce Cock­burn in­ter­view, visit ev­ery­thing­tras. And visit bruce­cock­ for tour dates and in­for­ma­tion.

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