Amazing the way our emotions stick to places. The way intersections hold memories. The way an old apartment carries our secrets. How certain parts of a city remind us of certain times in our lives, maybe even the person we used to be.
Originally from Harrow, Derek Harrison’s second solo album is named after the Bloor/Ossington neighbourhood of Toronto – but really it’s written from the perspective of someone forever in travel, someone who is used to leaving little bits of himself everywhere he’s called home – and perhaps bits of his heart in relationships he’s left behind.
References to Windsor, Detroit, Kingsville, Montreal, Toronto – this is a folk album about finding a place to call home, about the ways we leave all the places we’ve been a little bit different, a little bit changed, a little bit scarred. The record is reflective, contemplative, and unafraid to take on some of the blame for failed attempts at settling down.
“When you go, take the radio cuz someone else will think of how to say what I never could and put it to a song no one can get out of their heads.” He has conversations with his coffee, with gin, whisky and wine. This intricate, finger-picked road trip does not have a beginning or an end. It’s not a comfort. It’s not an anecdote. In fact – after listening, it’s easy to reflect on our own “unfinished business”, places we’ve been with loose ends which may never get to be completely tied up.
Blossington is about a place in time that Derek Harrison spent writing and reflecting. He’s since moved, but this record is a beautiful recollection of what was going through his mind while he called this area in Toronto “home.”