Through it all, Stebner has come to a simple conclusion: art is for himself and his community, and he’s going to continue to make it regardless. “Growing up, you envision yourself as a sort of mover and shaker in the world,” he says. “But I’ve been coming to terms with quietly singing my songs and not needing to shake the world in a way that I thought I did [when I was younger.]

In previous albums, Cold Water made a name for themselves with a more grizzled aesthetic that flirted with full-stack folk and elements of psychedelia. The sound was heavy and oppressive, like the prairie winters in which they thrive. But on “Golden Oriole,” Stebner finds joy for the first time in accepting who he is and where they are as a band.

“This single is probably the most joyful song on the record itself,” he laughs. The video finds the four-piece jamming out to the song in their practice space before rushing off to get slurpees. It’s a goofy, somewhat tongue-in-cheek celebration of friendship. At the end of the day, Stebner confirms, the best artistic endeavors are the friendships we make along the way: it’s about connection, camaraderie, about “more of a place-making piece of Alberta, situating yourself in it and coming to terms with being an old punk and old musician in the scene.

“This is what we’re feeling, this is the song we want to write,” Stebner says. “I’m speaking to my arts community, the people I live with, the art that speaks to me, the age I’m at now, being a gay man, and still feeling removed from the regular world. I’m rallying against the wave of indifference in the world and I’m going to keep making art.”