“To me, spirit and music are inseparable. Music is the closest I’ve ever come to touching the divine — it transcends language, borders, and time. Life, in the end, is about connection: to people, to self, to something larger. Music is how I participate in that.”

Ash Ravens: Joyride Blues

Ash Ravens doesn’t just play the blues—he lives them, bends them, and invites you to go along for the ride. With the release of his latest album, Joyride Blues (2025), the two-time Capital Music Award nominee proves that sometimes you have to lose the map to find the groove. Drawing from life in Bangladesh, Los Angeles, Melbourne, and now Ottawa, Ash weaves global threads into a record that’s as gritty as it is heartfelt, as classic as it is brand new. Born in Bangladesh and raised on the sounds of bluesmen and jazz legends, Ash Ravens took the long road to Canada—through music cities like Melbourne and L.A.—and brought every influence with him. His sound fuses the soul of blues with rock swagger, country honesty, and jazz complexity.

(Ash Ravens / Photo by Rachel)

He’s as likely to tear through a Joe Bonamassa-style riff as he is to whisper a nylon-string lament under the stars. A two-time City of Ottawa arts grant recipient and a regular on the Canadian scene, Ash is known for his heartfelt lyrics, technical precision, and fearless blending of genre. Joyride Blues shows off just how many paths he’s carved. Blending back porch warmth, downtown grit, and a global spirit, Ash Ravens has made an album that’s both a personal journey and a universal groove.

Interview by Michael Limnios                    Special Thanks: Ash Ravens & Eric Alper

How has the music influenced your views of the world and the journeys of life and soul you’ve taken?

Music has always been my compass. Growing up in Bangladesh, it was my escape, my way of processing chaos and beauty at the same time. Later, as I moved countries, music became my anchor — it gave me identity when everything else was uncertain. Every song I write is really a checkpoint in my journey: the blues gave me resilience, rock gave me fire, jazz opened my curiosity, and pop taught me to have fun and enjoy the journey. It made me see life less as a straight line and more as a rhythm — sometimes swinging, sometimes stumbling, but always moving forward.

How do you describe your sound, music philosophy and songbook? What's the balance in music between technique (skills) and soul/emotions?

My sound is where blues, rock, jazz, and pop-rock collide — with storytelling at the center. I’m less interested in fitting into a genre box than in chasing a mood or a story. Technique is important, but for me it’s a tool, not the destination. You can have the most perfect technique, but if there’s no vulnerability, it doesn’t interest me. My philosophy is simple: feel first, polish later. The songbook I’m building — from One Way Ticket to my next project Side A — reflects both my restlessness and my longing for meaning.

“The blues has always been a voice for the voiceless. It gave birth to almost every modern genre, but at its core it was about telling the truth of marginalized lives. I want my music to carry a bit of that — to give people both release and connection. If someone feels less alone because of one of my songs, then I’ve done my job.” (Ash Ravens / Photo by Quest)

What do you miss most nowadays from the blues of the past? What are your hopes and fears for the future?

What I miss most is the rawness — when blues wasn’t “content,” it was survival. When someone sang about heartbreak or hunger, it wasn’t poetic metaphor, it was lived truth. Today, blues risks being too polished, too safe. My hope is that young players continue to inject their own realities into the music, keep it evolving. My fear is it becomes a museum piece — respected, but not alive. I hope that doesn't happen and the blues is kept alive by younger generations.

Are there any similarities between the blues and the genres of Bangladesh folk music and traditional forms?

Absolutely. Bangladeshi folk, especially "Baul" music, shares that same raw human honesty. Both bluesmen and women and Baul singers sing of longing, struggle, devotion, and freedom. Both are simple in form but infinite in depth. When I first learned about Lalon’s songs in Bangladesh, it felt strangely similar to Robert Johnson’s world — different geographies, but the same human ache.

What moment changed your music life the most? What's been the highlights in your life and career so far?

The moment that changed me was when I left everything behind in Bangladesh to chase music abroad. That risk rewired me. Highlights? Playing RBC Ottawa Bluesfest in 2023 was huge — sharing the stage at a major festival reminded me I wasn’t crazy to keep going. And seeing my album One Way Ticket cross 150,000 streams in 2024 was surreal, because that record was written with all the joy about life, love and my ever evolving journey.                                                           (Ash Ravens / Photo by Zak Aubin)

“Absolutely. Bangladeshi folk, especially "Baul" music, shares that same raw human honesty. Both bluesmen and women and Baul singers sing of longing, struggle, devotion, and freedom. Both are simple in form but infinite in depth. When I first learned about Lalon’s songs in Bangladesh, it felt strangely similar to Robert Johnson’s world — different geographies, but the same human ache.”

What is the impact of Blues on the socio-cultural implications? How do you want the music to affect people?

The blues has always been a voice for the voiceless. It gave birth to almost every modern genre, but at its core it was about telling the truth of marginalized lives. I want my music to carry a bit of that — to give people both release and connection. If someone feels less alone because of one of my songs, then I’ve done my job.

What are some of the most important lessons you have learned from your experience in the music paths?

Patience. Humility. And persistence. Music is a lifelong journey — not a sprint. I’ve learned that comparison kills creativity, and that authenticity always finds its audience, even if it takes longer. The other big lesson: you can’t separate life and music. Every heartbreak, every failure, every joy — it all bleeds into the notes.

John Coltrane said "My music is the spiritual expression of what I am...". How do you understand the spirit, music, and the meaning of life?

To me, spirit and music are inseparable. Music is the closest I’ve ever come to touching the divine — it transcends language, borders, and time. Life, in the end, is about connection: to people, to self, to something larger. Music is how I participate in that. If Coltrane said his music was his spirit, I’d say the same — every note I play is my search for meaning, my offering to the universe.

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(Photo: Ash Ravens)