Denz of The OBGMs suddenly found himself with two years at home — so he taught himself filmmaking

March 12, 2020.

It had been a long time since my band, The OBGMs, played our last show in our hometown. I spent the greater part of the previous two years in a ratty hole I called home — The Rehearsal Factory. My daily routine consisted of bouncing between my overwhelming feeling of uncertainty and counting new stains on our rehearsal studio carpet. How many different ways can I convince myself that this will fail? 

Despite questioning myself constantly, we eventually accumulated a strong set of songs, and with the right team behind us, we recorded our album The Ends. It finally felt like the stars were going to align for us. We announced an RSVP-only event to mark our return to the city. This was the first step in what would clearly be our ascension through the worldwide punk ranks.

I embarked on a truly busy day picking up lighting and musical gear, booking photographers, doing press, the works. Prior to leaving my home, the ticker blinked on a local news channel: a new flu that was making its way around the world. In my arrogance, I scoffed at the idea of a little old flu halting anything. "We scared of the flu now?"

6pm. It was getting super late and people usually would have been in the venue by now. Then I got the news. The NBA was postponing the season. Pandemic. My fantasy basketball team and musical career were both in ruins. Well... at least I don't have to pretend I want to go outside anymore. Team anti-social: 1. Normies: 0.

As days went by and toilet paper became a hot commodity, those last two hard years in a dim hole seemed pointless. How long could I expect to be living in this bizarro universe? All research pointed to at least 2-3 years, if not more. A death kiss for a band still trying to figure out how to be significant. What are we going to do?

Shifting between different positions laying on the couch and the floor, I developed an insatiable thirst for all cringeworthy reality TV series. I also set out to watch any movie I'd ever even vaguely considered watching. In this period of pause, I was able to enjoy film in a different way — the angles, the colour, how to build stories to make people feel. Issa Rae, The Safdie Brothers, Edgar Wright. Wouldn't it be cool to make something important that people could watch? I'd previously set my own barriers built on a shortage of time, abundance of insecurity, and lack of patience. Well... at least I now had a lot of time.

The tragedy of George Floyd's murder brought me online for the first time. I actively looked to share my experiences with police brutality and the Black experience today. It felt like for the first time, people were paying attention to what Black people had to say regarding racism, and now was the time to learn how to communicate. As a Black man in a punk band, I also discovered that there were so many other bands filled with PoC members who were feeling how I felt — the outsiders in an industry filled with systemic barriers.

It was time to leave team anti-social and step out of the shadows, share resources, and try to help build a community. The goal was simple: learn how to use a camera, make videos to create something meaningful, and keep the dream alive. 

Where to begin?

Clairmont The Second is like my little brother. His brother is my best friend and I've watched him grow up from the absolute worst four-year-old to a true artistic genius. He and long-time collaborator Save Beee gave me great tips on where to begin. With this new excess of time on my hands, I bought a used Canon EOS-M and started shooting with my first camera.

I would watch hours of tutorials on shooting and editing, and started to actively edit social media videos for our upcoming album. I would frequently pluck my daughter out of her online schooling to stand still as I learned how to focus a camera, creating little videos using cloning to make it look like she was playing basketball against herself.

Then I finally worked up the courage to shoot my first music video. I stayed up three straight days and accidentally deleted the video in entirety multiple times, but at last I finished it. My directorial debut in my own music video. "Fight Song." I surprised myself that I didn't quit about an hour into the edit.

I felt unlocked and threw myself at any opportunity to learn more. I directed and edited the rest of our videos (including co-directing with Clairmont The Second for our song "Outsah") and looked for opportunities to shoot more videos with other local artists. I hated the run-of-the-mill performance video and made it a mission to make every video a movie.  

Any time I got a chance, I would create a video to let people know about a new band I discovered. Oxymorrons, Troi Irons, Nova Twins, Joncro, Roach, Ashlee Schatze. The list goes on. Dozens of assets in, my newfound skills left my confidence swollen as my body after a gym day — chest puffed out and happy from a positive burn. 

This period of time let me know I could do something I've always wanted to do. I just needed to focus. I am thankful because I needed to give myself permission to dream and to develop a healthy relationship with failure. Now that I know what I am capable of, the ceiling feels a lot higher. Why can't I make a movie? Why can't I edit the cringeworthy show that I would love to watch? I want to write, direct, and edit my first short film this year. Why not?

For more stories about the experiences of Black Canadians — from anti-Black racism to success stories within the Black community — check out Being Black in Canada, a CBC project Black Canadians can be proud of. You can read more stories here.