Hey, I wrote this for you propped up in my bunk on the bus at 2am. Hope it helps with your guitar playing... it certainly helped me out when I needed it most:

Just finished the Kamloops show with James Barker Band, and we’re rolling toward Prince George.

I turned in early… partly because I needed the rest, partly because a couple of the guys are coming down with something and the air in here feels like recycled cough drops. Touring life isn’t quite what people imagine. Lights, noise, crowds one minute… cracked vinyl seats and rattling coffee cups the next.

And now that we’re creeping closer to the holidays, I’m feeling it. I miss my family. The rehearsals, the load-outs, the travel - all of it’s easier when you know you’re going home at night. Out here, you’re just a hired gun with a guitar case and a duffel bag, trying to keep your strings fresh and your head clear.

Lying here, staring at the roof of this bunk, something hit me.

All the shows… the miles… the noise… none of that is why I play.

It’s the connection.

That moment when you lock eyes with someone in the crowd and you both feel the same thing at the same time. It’s the only place where everything else in your head goes quiet. You can’t fake that. It’s the one part of this job that feels like home even when I’m nowhere near my own.

And here’s the thing I kept thinking about last night:

You don’t need a tour bus or a stage to feel that.

You don’t need front-row fans or a crowd singing along.

You just need that moment when your hands finally do what your brain hears. When the sound in your head actually comes out of the amp. When you play something clean, something intentional, something that feels like you.

That’s the feeling we’re all chasing. That’s the part that keeps me out here night after night.

If you’re not feeling that, if you’re stuck staring at the fretboard wondering why it won’t click, or why your hands won’t cooperate, or why the music in your head never comes out quite right... I want to show you something that fixes that.

Something that bridges that gap between what you want to play and what you can actually play when it counts.

It’s the same approach I use on tour when I have a day to learn a tune, or when I have to improvise around a solo I’ve only heard twice. It’s the reason I can show up anywhere with a guitar and feel grounded again. (And yeah... even fly into crowd-pleasing finger-tapping guitar solos at a country gig)

If you’ve been frustrated, or stalled, or just tired of feeling like you’re stuck one level below where you belong, this will help you.

Click here now - it’ll make sense the second you see it.

I’ll write again soon. We’ve got a long haul up to Prince George, and I’m hoping the bus stays quiet long enough for me to grab some Zs.

Talk soon,
Eddie

P.S. Being gone for Thanksgiving this year hurts more than I like to admit. Touring's one thing… missing those moments with the people you love is another.

When I get home in December, first thing I’m doing is scooping up my kids and holding my wife for longer than usual. After their hearts are full again - after the talking, the laughing, the catching up - that’s when I’ll slip into the music room, flip the switch on the amp, and try to reconnect with the part of me that’s been stretched thin out here.

You deserve to feel that connection too. The link above will show you how.