When Bill Plaskett first moved his family from Halifax to Lunenburg in the 1990s, it took only a short while — social folkie that he was — before he stitched together a network in the local folk scene and started drinking in the coffee house circuit.
It was on one of those evenings, at Dalhousie University’s Grad House café, that Plaskett remembers sharing the stage with his then-14-year-old son, Joel.
“We did a couple instrumental numbers,” Bill recalled, remembering their performance of Bert Jansch’s “Angie.”
“That was one of the memories I have and Joel remembers it, too. That was when we did our first public performance together and in a folkie kind of vein.”
Only a few years later and before Joel’s teenage years were through with him, the younger Plaskett had already graduated from intimate coffee houses to become the co-frontman of the promising rock outfit Thrush Hermit. Bill was a persistent presence then, too, particularly since Joel was too young for unaccompanied admittance into the clubs Thrush was rocking.
Bill remained a proud observer and occasional collaborator over the ensuing decades as Joel built a Juno Award-winning career as a prolific songwriter and perceptive producer.
Only now, however, have father and son teamed up as equal partners in new music, with their contemplative new record Solidarity. And once again, it’s in that “folkie kind of vein.”
The winsome 11-track collection, which features both Plasketts’ voices and songwriting, was recorded in a month — a surprisingly intense month, both players attest — but its roots stretch back much farther.
Bill penned “No Sight Compares” in the ’70s when the beauty of nature seemed to offer hope amid a troubled relationship. The 71-year-old’s “On Down the River” recalls his upbringing in postwar London, when he would watch from the bank of the Thames as boats chugged in and out, while the album’s poignant title track finds the elder Plaskett reflecting on working in New Orleans and journeying around the United States in 1966 before eventually moving to Canada and starting a family.
Of course, Joel’s musical education began with his dad. When Joel, now 41, was really little, he would listen as Bill rehearsed with his band, Starboard Side, or hosted boisterous kitchen jams. By recording with his father, Joel not only tuned in to a family connection, he also re-engaged his interest in folk music.
“I’ve been influenced by both his music but also his musical tastes and the way he plays guitar,” Joel said. “I felt like if we made a record together, where he was singing some songs and I was singing some songs, it would push me toward that part of my musical heritage.
“It was fun to make. Challenging, actually — more challenging than I thought.”
Yes, well, bands making albums usually argue, and fathers and sons often argue, so how about a father and a son making an album together?
In this case, Bill was more than happy to defer to his son’s considerable studio experience. “In terms of the musical structure, I willingly took his advice,” he said. “There wasn’t any large difference of opinion between us.”
Still, it was a unique test of what both men agree is a strong relationship.
“By and large, we get along really well,” Joel said. “I find myself getting a bit snippy because I carry the stress of wanting to make sure we’re putting our best foot forward, and my dad gets stressed about it too, because he’s a little out of his element. I have to push the reset button now and again in my mind so I don’t get too quick with him.”
Still, he adds, “Dad and I, we’re musicians. What we connect on is songs and the power of language, and the sense of history and community.”
As the duo prepares for a cross-country tour — which hits Massey Hall on April 8 — Bill mostly feels gratitude. Semi-retired as a heritage bylaw officer, he probably didn’t foresee a nationwide lap through historic soft-seat venues alongside his son.
“It is pretty special for me, certainly,” he said. “It’s a joyous privilege, in a way, to be able to do it. I guess it’s like a big adventure for me.”
Meanwhile, perhaps the third generation of melodic Plasketts waits in the wings.
“My (8-year-old) son loves Solidarity and sings it around the house,” Joel said. “He just jams around to it. He sings along having no idea really what any of it means.”
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