Andy Kim and Kevin Drew Don’t Believe in Plan B

Photo By Matt Williams

Over drinks on a chilly day in Toronto’s Liberty Village, Andy Kim, now 62, tells me that like legendary highwire daredevils The Flying Wallendas, he has never had a safety net—a precaution that may have saved founder and leader Karl Wallenda’s life. For Kim and his brother-in-musical-arms and now collaborator, Kevin Drew, there was never a backup plan for when the ground dropped out from underneath them. “People would ask me what my Plan B was and I’d say, ‘Why would I have one of those?’,” Drew explains. “I’m gonna put everything into Plan A.” That relentless belief in what they’re doing has paid off in many different ways. Kim’s career got the heavy push it needed when he co-wrote “Sugar, Sugar” for The Archies. In 1974 he released “Rock Me Gently”, which went to number one on the Billboard Hot 100 and number two on the UK Singles Chart. Drew’s Broken Social Scene was, for a long time, one of Canada’s greatest musical exports. He’s since gone on to enjoy a successful solo career, most recently with his second album, 2014’s Darlings. Both have gone through quiet periods that made some wonder whether they’d ever hear anything from them again. But they never stopped making music, because that was always Plan A.

“You’re fucking so scared that this is all you know,” Drew says. “And I see that and I feel that and I’ve been a part of it. Andy was like, ‘I’ve been writing songs for 46 years. For 20 years, people thought I was irrelevant, that I disappeared.’ He made his peace with it. I said to him, ‘I heard you retired,’ and he said ‘I didn’t fucking retire. I became irrelevant, there’s a big difference.’” Without another chart-topper, people stopped listening. However, Kim continued writing and performing, working under the name Baron Longfellow (later just “Longfellow”) throughout the 80s and 90s. Even as his audience dwindled he didn’t stray from the path he knew he was supposed to be on. “I came to the realization that when you’re born, you’re given a certain amount of heartbeats,” Kim says. “And you have to realize those heartbeats are your heartbeats. I may be given a certain amount, he may be given a certain amount, and your heartbeats may be gone tomorrow at noon.”

The two met through Derek Downham of The Beauties, fellow regulars at Toronto’s Dakota Tavern. “We’ve been together for ten years, and he doesn’t rehearse,” Kim says about Downham. “We’re at rehearsal, but it’s always a performance. He’s always fucking on.” Drew reminisces about what he calls the “Dakota Days” at the bar’s notorious Sunday nights. “That was a magical time. I loved it. Drinkin’, rollin’ dice ‘til 5 AM, hangin’ out, and being there because of the musicianship. And the hood. Sunday night’s a night for bartenders and waiters. People end up partying and everyone comes out and just fucking goes for it, while everybody else is worried about their job the next morning.” Drew agreed to play Kim’s annual charity Christmas show, and the two became friends after that.

On paper, Kim and Drew’s collaboration for It’s Decided might seem a bit odd, but from the opening strums of “Sister OK,” it’s clear that fate pulled the two of them together. Drew calls it an “adult contemporary album of blood and guts,” and he’s spot-on. The mix of Drew’s ear for ambience and lush, sweeping arrangements and Kim’s gift for golden pop songs creates an unstoppably hopeful and gorgeous sonic landscape. In person, the pair’s energy is even more palpable and infectious. Drew’s is particularly impressive—admirable given that he’s functioning at less than 100 percent due to a dangerous hangover. He talks passionately about his fears, doubts, and triumphs, but mostly he talks about how much he absolutely loves his friends. Kim is calmer and speaks, both in tone and choice of words, the way you might expect from a wise man or friendly shaman. His enthusiasm and hopefulness are uplifting. Before we part ways, he’s already hugged me twice. Drew says that the two of them deciding to create the album was a love story. “I fell for this man,” he says. “He had what I needed, and what I had was exactly what he needed. And you look for this all the time, you look to learn from people and to get and to give. Because giving is incredible and receiving is incredible.”

The next step was finding a place that made sense to work and record. For Drew, as usual, that meant making it a family affair. Kim was used to session musicians, three hours in the studio, in and out, cutting singles. The family atmosphere and camaraderie was a whole new world for him, and it became a heavy influence on the album. “I wanted to bring him to the safest place I knew,” Drew says. “And that was Ohad’s home, with Ohad’s kids and Ohad’s wife.” Ohad is Ohad Benchetrit of Do Make Say Think, who contributed to It’s Decided, along with Dave Hamelin (The Stills), John McEntire (Tortoise), Kevin Hearn (Barenaked Ladies), Ron Sexsmith and Downham. Drew gushes over all of them. Most of the album was recorded in Benchetrit’s basement. The rest was done at Giant Studios in Toronto (owned by Broken Social Scene and Metric founder Jimmy Shaw) and in Chicago, with McEntire. Most of the album’s songs were recorded on the first take. Second takes, Kim says, just don’t catch the magic of the first, and they are largely the product of damaging doubt.

“It doesn’t work, it just tells you no,” he says. “I think, again, that you’ve got to have faith in what you believe in. You can’t go around asking another person you’re not working with, outside that family, ‘what do you think? What do you think?’ You’ll go crazy. You have to believe in something, and once you believe in something, spirits come and help you. There’s a great quote that goes, ‘be brave, and mighty warriors will come to your aid.’ You gotta be fuckin’ brave, man.”

Mortality became more than just a theme on the record. Several deaths struck band members hard, which added to the texture and urgency of the record for Kim. “People are fucking dying!” says Drew. “They’re dying. Friends are fucking going, cancer’s coming in. We had a lot of people go on us while we were making this record. It was tough.” Drew expresses an anxiousness about all of it that seems almost tangible. “I’m terrified sometimes. Terrified. I’ll admit it.” Kim takes a moment to address Drew’s worries. “What are you terrified about?” he asks. “The unknown,” Drew answers. “And the what-ifs.” “Don’t sweat the details,” Kim says. “Find out what your destination is. I’m not smart enough to know the details. I didn’t know many years ago that I would accidentally find Kevin in my life. I’m not smart enough to figure those things out. There’s a reason why the three of us are sitting here. I give over the details to my destination.”

Kim’s relentless optimism is almost alarming. Very few artists today could go from a number one hit record to becoming “irrelevant” for decades, then put out what is arguably their best work at 62. It would be the knockout blow for most of them, moving on to bad reality TV or industry jobs or drowned in drugs and liquor until their body gives out. That’s what makes Kim’s comeback so great: he never went anywhere. “You can’t live a life without being knocked down,” Kim says. “The fact that you can get up and start over again, that’s the mark that you make. Everyone gets knocked down, I don’t care who it is, from the kings of the world to the biggest artists, to the smallest dreamer. You all get punched down. And sometimes when we get up, we’re really bruised, and we try to hide the bruises. That’s what I did.”

Had Kim ever had a safety net, It’s Decided would probably never exist. Kim’s faith has allowed him to perform a dizzying feat, traipsing his own highwire, doing all he can to try not to fall, knowing that if he does, it was all worth it. Over the hour and a half we’re together, Kim has provided me with a lot of answers, but there’s still one more question that needs to be answered. Why now? “It’s just the way it is, man. I’m walking towards my final resting place. And on the way, I’m gonna have the best fucking time that I can for myself. I’m on my way somewhere. No one can stop my destination. No one’s gonna stop my final resting place.”

Matt Williams felt a lot better about life after doing this interview. Follow him on Twitter.