Calgary songwriter stripped down for radio

Chris Naish takes lo-fi route to success

Eric Volmers and photo by Ted Jacobs, Calgary Herald
Saturday, December 08, 2007


Calgary acoustic-folk rocker Chris Naish was forced to do some homework after receiving the first glowing review for his collection of sad, post-punk pop tunes.

It was in a freebie Calgary magazine and the reviewer compared the songs on Naish's lo-fi debut Dog in Bombay to those of Paul Westerberg -- former leader of the Replacements and the undisputed granddaddy of sad, post-punk pop tunes.

The comparison should have flattered the 21-year-old songsmith. Instead it sent him scurrying to YouTube to find out who this Westerberg character was.

"Once I found out who he was, it was cool," says the soft-spoken Naish. "I listened to the Replacements and stuff. It was really good. But I would say my main influences are Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen and Shane McGowen."

Naish's discovery of Westerberg is part of the young writer's continued self-education in the ways of the song. It began as a means to expand his musical vocabulary past the punk rock he grew infatuated with as a teen battling what he matter-of-factly describes as "suicidal depression."

Soon, he had travelled far beyond the severe limitations of his first musical hero, Sid Vicious, to more bedrock strains of rock 'n' roll.

"I started to think about where that cool sound came from," he says. "I started listening to early Stones, the Beatles, the Who.

"I went past that to Johnny Cash and Chuck Berry. The more you go down, you will eventually get to blues and folk."

Which only half explains the gritty, stripped-down feel of Naish's work. After recording his debut album with only voice, guitar and harmonica, the songwriter realized that recording need not be an expensive, drawn-out endeavour.

Earlier this year, he discovered that Calgary's Fuel 90.3 had a show dedicated to indie rock.

So he barricaded himself in his basement with some primitive recording equipment and -- in a burst of fierce DIY determination -- had a new song in the hands of host Matt Schicter the following day.

"I had a bunch of songs, so I recorded them in my sweatpants . . . and Homer slippers," Naish says with a laugh. "I had the next day off, so I drove it down to the station."

Needless to say, it worked. Schicter's show, 16th Ave, has played a number of Naish's tunes since October.

Meanwhile, the songwriter has enlisted an army of supporters to keep up the pressure on the station.

According to Fuel program director Murray Brookshaw, the station has received hundreds of requests in the past few months. "I'm inundated by his fan base: 'Play Chris Naish! Play Chris Naish! Play Chris Naish!" says Brookshaw with a chuckle. "I go to my e-mail and there is 15 in there every day. He's a good local artist and it shows he has a committed fan base who are tech savvy."

It also shows the songwriter's other main talent: self-promotion. Naish -- who sells Jacuzzis by day -- leaves no stone unturned. While he doesn't consider himself a "Christian rock" performer, for instance, he has received a good deal of attention from that particular musical subculture.

Christian radio and its publications have promoted Naish's first disc.

"I'm Christian and that's part of my life and it's part of my music," he says. "But I'm not a Christian rocker per se. . . . Bob Marley was a Rastafarian, but he didn't condemn anyone or say 'be a Rasta or die.' I see my songs opening communication between Christians and non-Christians."

As for the enigmatic title of his debut disc, Naish says it was borne out of his trips to India to do missionary work as a teen.

The missions, which often found him performing music and drama to large audiences, gave him a glimpse into the gritty world of Bombay -- and he felt an affinity to some of the city's most beleaguered tenants.

"The dogs in Bombay are beaten and scarred," he says. "They are treated very badly. It was all about my depression . . . It was a way of dealing with my depression."

An analogy worthy of Westerberg.

© The Calgary Herald 2007