A collage featuring the artist 'story.' performing music, musical instruments, sheet music, and the word 'backstory' in the center, with a cityscape and mountains in the background.

The idea that I should start rapping “for real for real” is still a bit bonkers to me. I’ve never really listened to much hiphop and even less rap because the appeal just wasn’t there for me. And honestly, even though I now have a solid appreciation for the art form and I can appreciate the talent and hard work that goes into it, I still don’t really enjoy most rap music. I think part of the problem is the seriousness with which most rappers take themselves. It’s all flex, braggadocio, bully talk, that kind of thing. I’m supposed to be impressed, but I’m just left feeling uninterested. Additionally, a lot of rappers are fond of dropping N-bombs, racial slurs, homophobic verses, toxic masculinity, and treating women like objects at best, or conquests at worst.

Not all rap, of course, but it’s a minefield I never really felt like navigating to find the handful of songs I might like. That said, I’m a big fan of Falco - the Austrian singer from the 80s most famous for “Rock Me Amadeus”. He is essentially a rapper, but certainly not hiphop. Within the hiphop genre, there were a few songs I liked, but they steered more into novelty songs rather than hardcore. “Funky Cold Medina”, “Bust a Move”, even “Hammer Time” had something that other rap didn’t: it was fun.

Enter Pete and Bas. They showed up on a reaction channel on YouTube that I subscribe to and I almost didn’t watch it because I knew it was a rap video. But the thumbnail showed two older Cockney guys and a shocked look on the reactor’s face, so I was intrigued. I absolutely wasn’t ready for what I saw.

A man in the foreground looks surprised, covering his mouth with his hand, while two older men in the background sit at a table, one with glasses and a beard wearing a flat cap, and the other with glasses and a bow tie. Flags of the United States and the United Kingdom hang behind them. The text overlay says, "This is my new favorite thing."

I went down the rabbit hole. It became obvious that while Pete and Bas might not take themselves too seriously, they are absolutely serious about the music. The lyrics are layered, tight, and full of hidden meanings. The wordplay is off the charts, the rhyme schemes are complex, and the rhythmic flows are apparently infinite. They rap on top of everything from drill to grime to salsa to drum&bass to reggae and more. All of it sounds as if it’s in their comfort zone, even though little or none of it was something they listened to before they started rapping themselves.

I eventually got to meet them (long story) and discovered that the ruthless, villainous characters they portray in their songs - two guys who run a drug cartel, deal in murder-for-hire, and are probably having an affair with your grandmother - are the exact opposite of their real-life personas. I’ve said this many times, and it’s true: Pete and Bas are two of the most genuinely decent men I know.

Rap artists Pete and Bas sit on either side of the artist 'story.' on a beige couch, smiling and posing for the camera, with a framed photo of a parking lot hanging on the wall behind them.

Before I met them in person, I was inspired to try my hand at writing a rap song, just to see what that experience is like. I’m chair of Classic Bronze, a huge handbell festival that happens every two years in Alberta, Canada. For my first festival as chair, I thought it might be fun to open the festival with a rap song about handbells. I did it backward. I’ve found out since that the normal process is to choose the backing music, then work out the rhythmic flow you’re going to use, and then write lyrics to fit the flow.

I wrote the lyrics first, then I worked out the rhythms, then I wrote the backing music myself from scratch. Oof. Still, it turned out pretty good and I submitted it to the Handbell Musicians of Canada composition contest that year.

It won.

A sheet music cover sheet showing a black and white illustration of Johann Pachelbel singing into a microphone, wearing glasses and a suit jacket. The text on the image reads "Rock A Bell Cannon" and "East Wing Music".

A bit later, while on a handbell cruise to Alaska (yes, that’s a thing), I wrote another song over the course of two afternoons called “F Cancer: A Thank You Letter to Pete and Bas”. The first half of the song is about how I met Rob, got married, moved to Canada, and got diagnosed with cancer. And then a second diagnosis. The song shifts abruptly in the middle and chronicles my discovery of Pete and Bas and how Pete’s example of how to live life to the fullest while defeating cancer turned my whole attitude around and got me to start fighting for my life again. I made a video for that song and I had the absolute honour of being able to show it to them in person that day I got to meet them.

They were impressed and Bas sent the video to their friends and family. That night at the concert, Bas brought me up on stage and told the crowd that I’d come all the way from Canada to the UK to see their concert. Pete then told them, “and he’s written a song about us and you must go home and watch it.” Wow.
Then the beat dropped for “Bish Bash Bosh” my favourite song of theirs at the time. I’m still on stage. Bas handed me a beer. DJ Queenie handed me a microphone. And that was the first time this guy who doesn’t even like rap music ended up rapping. On stage in front of a paying audience, in a foreign country, rapping along with two absolute legends who happen to be my personal heroes. I was genuinely terrified at first, especially since the song is full of tongue-twisters, but I thought, “you’ll never get a chance like this again, just go for it.”
Bas was genuinely surprised that the guy they’d just hung out with for several hours had this performer side of him, as is evidenced by the look on his face. Pete was less surprised and even stopped singing during the tongue-twister section and let me have it on my own.

Bas (of Pete and Bas) looks surprised at the artist 'story.' on stage, rapping, with a crowd in the background at a nightclub in Newcastle, UK.
Pete (of Pete and Bas) and the artist 'story.' rapping together on stage with a sign reading 'ANARCHY BREW' visible in the background, and a plastic cup of beer on the table.

I learned something that night: rapping is fun. Not just a little bit fun, but crazy levels of fun. I’ve performed in lots of different ways in my life. I’ve been in plays and musicals at a local level, I’ve played trumpet and other instruments in front of small crowds and in packed stadiums. I’ve sung in choirs and in a five-member a cappella group for audiences big and small. I’ve played in and conducted handbell groups and done handbell solos. All of it is fun, but this was fun on another level. As a musician, writer, and percussionist, rapping hits all three skill sets and challenges me in new ways. I was instantly hooked.
One week later, I’m back home in Calgary and it’s time to open the Classic Bronze festival. I expected to be nervous, but the unexpected performance in Newcastle the week before made performing my own song in front of a ‘safe’ audience of my peers a cakewalk by comparison. It went really well.

October, 2025. Pete and Bas launch their first tour of North America and I got tickets for the shows in Portland and Seattle. At the Portland show, I was able to let the boys know that the cancer I was fighting when I saw them in Newcastle had been conquered. I gave them both shirts with the lyrics to “Bish Bash Bosh” printed on them along with thank-you cards. At the Seattle show the next night, Pete was wearing the shirt I gave him and when they invited some ladies on stage to dance with them, Pete decided that he’d rather dance than sing, so he handed me his mic. The song was “T Pain”, which I only knew about 80% or so, but there was no way I was going to let Pete regret handing me his mic. I faked my way through the verse I didn’t know so well that when I watch the video now, I literally can’t tell that I was spitting syllables and vowel sounds rather than actual words.
So my third-ever rap performance was again in front of a paying audience (about twice as large as in Newcastle) with rap legends. Only this time I wasn’t singing with Pete, I was singing for Pete. That’s a whole new level of confidence necessary. And even more fun. I even got accused of being a “plant” because “there’s no way some random guy comes out of the audience and does what you did.”

Pete (of Pete and Bas) a person with a shaved head, glasses, and earrings offers a microphone to a man in the crowd at a concert in Seattle.
The artist 'story.' sings on stage while a woman dances behind him. Off to one side, Pete (of Pete and Bas) looks on, pointing and smiling.

Full disclosure: the original photo was awash in magenta-coloured stage lighting, making everything washed out and hard to see. I had AI clean up the image to make it clearer, but the original image it’s using is real.

That performance in Seattle was the most fun I’d ever had in front of an audience. I was hooked. A few months later, I get my third cancer diagnosis, this time in my bones. The doctors were 98% sure that it was a very aggressive and deadly form of cancer and that I’d be dead in 18 months, bedridden for the last year of that. I beat those odds, too. It was a different cancer, not curable, but treatable. I might have another 20 years in me still. I felt like this was a great opportunity to write a new song, celebrating the joy of victory more than singing about defiance against the odds.
That led to “Ring My Bell” - my first full-fledged professionally produced song/video - and kicked off a new phase in my musical life. I hope you’ll go on this ride with me as I bring new stories to life in rhythm and rhyme.