Lou Laurence

Singer. Songwriter. Siren.

Ed Sheeran and My Mama

Exactly one week from today, I will arrive in London, England. I’ve been running around for the past few weeks trying to organize myself, my gigs, my bags, my apartment, and my brain in preparation for my big trip. So far, I have organized the gigs. Amidst the running, my sister (a talented painter and incredible ally in creative endeavours) and I filmed a music video.

The video is for a song I wrote called, “My Mom Wants Me to Marry Ed Sheeran.” The title is not a misdirect. My mother is a woman of infinite good advice and a world of wild card advice. One day, we were chatting and she said, “You know who I think you should be with? That English guy.” Blank stare. “The redhead one.”

“Ed Sheeran?”

“Yeah! Ed Sheeran! You should marry him.”

Both of my parents are tremendously supportive of myself and my music career and I’ve understood that this suggestion was just another demonstration of that support – he’s a hugely successful songwriter and singer and she wants to see me at that level. Also, she was hugely charmed by an interview she saw of him. Naturally, I was rather amused by the suggestion and it became something of a running gag. “Why Ed Sheeran, mom? Why not a prince?”

“Oh no, Prince Harry couldn’t handle you.”

Pretty much the apex of my photo editing skills. Thanks to Mika for being the neck and shoulders for this monstrosity.

Pretty much the apex of my photo editing skills. Thanks to Mika for being the neck and shoulders for this monstrosity.

As a Christmas gift for Mom, I wrote the long-titled song and first performed it at a gig at The Wise Lounge in Vancouver, late December. That night ranks as one of the best performance nights of my life so far. The venue, staff and co-headlining musicians (Max Boyle and Kristi Hawkes) were fantastic, and the audience was infiltrated by a generous dose of family and friends. My parents were there with some of their friends as well as my lovely aunt, uncle, and cousins, as were my friends from my Victoria days. Towards the end of my first set, I told the audience I had a special song to dedicate to my mother. Every punch line landed. Mom and Dad laughed until their eyes watered and my friends alternated between watching my mom’s reactions and me singing. At the end of the song, Mom ran up to the stage to give me a hug.

Performing is fun. Honestly, I love it. You have some fantastic gigs where the whole room is with you and you don’t see it, you feel it – there isn’t your energy and theirs, there is only mad, shared buzz. And you have some shitty gigs where you aren’t all there or they aren’t or the sound person is on their phone finding Tinder dates while you try to get their attention because there is no sound coming from your monitor. This particular night in Vancouver was in a league of its own. A feeling of completely nailing a gift for someone combined with doing exactly what you love in a room of people you love so. damn. much.

Check out the video. Call your Mom or favoured life-advice-figure and ask them which celebrity they want to set you up with. Profess the good love stuff to the good loving people. And if you see Ed Sheeran, tell him I’m very happy for he and his bride-to-be, but my mom isn’t.