Editor’s Note: The Threads That Hold Us

Photo Credit: Pavel Danilyuk.

There’s a moment, usually sometime after midnight, when the world finally quiets enough for me to hear the reasons I still do this work. It’s never loud or dramatic. It comes in soft, almost shy, like a memory stepping into the room. A voice from some far-off place. A guitar line drifting through the speakers. A message from an artist who just needed someone, anyone, to listen.

These moments remind me that music, at its core, is a lifeline.

Not the industry. Not the machines, not the algorithms, not the endless scroll of announcements and releases. I’m talking about the communities, the circles of people who find one another through songs that feel like home, even if they were written half a world away.

The longer I do this, the more I realize how fragile and powerful that connection is.

In the past year alone, we’ve published stories from every corner you could imagine: the Highlands of Scotland, the backroads of Saskatchewan, a tiny radio studio in Melbourne, a porch overlooking the Cape Breton coast, a café basement in Dublin, an artist’s cramped flat in Berlin where the neighbours complain about the foot-stomping at all hours.

Everywhere, the same thread emerges, music is how people hold on. And perhaps more importantly, it’s how people find each other.

One of the things I’ve always loved about this global music world is that the most extraordinary stories rarely come from the spotlight. They come from the fringes, the late-night jam sessions in old warehouses, the albums recorded between shifts at the mill, the voices shaped by loss, migration, hope, and resilience. They come from artists who don’t calculate their worth in streams or followers, but in the simple act of being heard by the right person at the right time.

Those are the people I think about when I sit down to write these notes.

The songwriter in a tiny Nova Scotia fishing town who mailed us a CD because they didn’t know how to upload tracks.The South African folk duo who record their harmonies in a bedroom because the studio is too far and too costly.The Australian guitarist who told me once that without community, music is just sound, but with it, it becomes a compass. And he was right.

We’re living through a time when the world feels stretched thin. Conflicts and crises dominate the headlines. Many artists I’ve spoken with are navigating financial hardship, emotional burnout, and a sense of being unseen in a landscape that moves fast and forgets even faster. Yet somehow, miraculously, they keep creating.

They show up, even when the world isn’t watching. They write anyway. They sing anyway. They make something out of nothing, again and again.

That resilience, that quiet courage, is why The Sound Cafe exists. It’s why Blues & Roots Radio was born all those years ago. It’s why, despite the miles, the borders, the time zones, and the storms, both personal and global, we continue to build bridges across genres, countries, and lives.

I’ve always said music is one of the last true commons. It’s a place that doesn’t care where you’re from, what you’ve survived, or where you’re headed next. It welcomes you as you are. It gives you room to breathe, to feel, to remember the things you thought you’d buried.

And sometimes, if you’re lucky, it hands you a lifeline when you need it most.

As I continue writing The Long Road to Flin Flon, I’m revisiting memories of the people who carried me through my own turning points, the musicians who showed up, the friends who stood by me, the listeners whose messages reminded me why community matters. I’ve been remembering the early days of Blues & Roots Radio, the obstacles that nearly stopped it before it began, the long nights, the unexpected friendships, the sense of building something bigger than any of us understood at the time.

What stands out, looking back, is not the hardship. It’s the people.

The artists who sent music without knowing if anyone would listen.The volunteers who believed in the vision before it had shape. The strangers who became collaborators. The collaborators who became family.

Those threads, woven over years, created something no one person could have built alone. And it struck me recently that The Sound Cafe is an extension of that same spirit, a gathering place where global stories can meet, breathe, and make their way into the world.

I’m often humbled by the trust artists place in us. When someone shares their album, their story, their heartbreak, their triumph, they’re handing over a piece of their life. They’re saying, “Here. Maybe this will mean something to someone.” And every time, I’m reminded of what an honour it is to hold those stories and send them onward.

Because behind every song is a life. Behind every artist is a road, uneven, unpredictable, often brave. Behind every community is a choice: to show up for each other.

And so this Editor’s Note is, in many ways, a thank you.

Thank you to the artists who continue to create in a world that doesn’t always make room for them. Thank you to the readers who bring curiosity, compassion, and open ears. Thank you to the listeners who still believe in radio, in storytelling, in music as connection. Thank you to everyone who shares a link, recommends a song, or sends a message across oceans just to say, “I heard this, and it moved me.”

What you do may seem small. But trust me, it isn’t.

Your support keeps the doors open. Your listening keeps the stories alive. Your presence keeps the threads intact.

Wherever you’re reading this, whether from a crowded city or a quiet northern town, whether you’re chasing sunlight or holding onto hope, know that you are part of something larger than you can see. A community built on heart, creativity, resilience, and the belief that music still matters.

We’ll keep telling the stories. We’ll keep lifting the voices. We’ll keep stitching together the threads that hold us.

And together, we’ll keep the fabric strong.

Photo Credit: Matheus Bertelli.

About the Writer:

Stevie Connor is a Scottish-born polymath of the music scene, known for his work as a musician, composer, journalist, and radio pioneer.

He is the founder of Blues & Roots Radio and The Sound Cafe Magazine, platforms that have become global hubs for blues, roots, folk, Americana, and world music.

A juror for national music awards including the JUNO Awards and the Canadian Folk Music Awards, Stevie’s deep passion for music and storytelling continues to connect artists and audiences across cultures and continents.

Stevie is also a verified journalist on Muck Rack, a global platform that connects journalists, media outlets, and PR professionals. Being verified on Muck Rack signifies that Stevie’s professional work is recognized, trusted, and publicly credited, helping ensure transparency, credibility, and a direct connection between him and the worldwide media and music community.

Excerpts From Stevie's Memoir, The Long Road To Flin Flon ...

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