The set is over, the room is packed. Friends of friends and music-lovers party in a smoky haze. Stephen Lewis is in the middle of it all, happily strumming his guitar, fuelled by the now-empty quart beside him. He’d played to a full house in St. Andrews, NB on Friday with his good friend Bob Fitzgerald and was wrapping up the weekend with one final bash.
“We did what musicians do and at the end of the weekend, Bob goes, ‘Steve, I’m just going to say this simply and I’m going to leave it at that but I’m worried about you. And I love you.’”
That was one year ago, almost to the day. Most people who knew Lewis back then would have been hard-pressed to find even a shred of sadness on the guy. He was the epitome of jovial – always smiling and always ready to jam. Few realized how depressed he was. Then again, people who knew him back in his Stephen Lewis and the Big Band of One days wouldn’t recognize him now: 150 pounds lighter, light-years healthier and an apostle for the sober and vegetarian lifestyle.
•••
Born in Rusagonis, south of Fredericton, Lewis enjoyed a humble upbringing. An ex-convict-turned-minister, Lewis’s father founded several programs aimed at reintegrating former offenders back into society. Lewis remembers eating dinner with convicts on Christmas Day, out on a one-day pass courtesy of his father. As a little boy, Lewis would dance to the music during church, only to duck under the pews and snooze through the spoken part of the sermon.
“When I was in high school, I got voted most likely to be a rock star. It was just in me, and it just came super easy.”
Through his father, he met Jeff Healey, the late Canadian jazz and blues-rock artist. It inspired him to carry his talent further. A couple years later, he took part in a three-day workshop held at his high school by Hot Toddy, a renowned New Brunswick band. Students worked on songwriting and musicianship, eventually performing with Hot Toddy in front of the whole school.
“After that I was like ‘OK, let’s do this.’ It was a big moment for me.”
The budding performer began playing open mics and small gigs around town. At 15, he was burly and blessed with believable facial hair, playing with bands in local bars. He jokes about his nineteenth birthday, when he hit up The Capital Complex, a bar in Fredericton. The employees were shocked to find out he was only just turning of age, after playing at the bar numerous times beforehand.
After forming a few ill-fated bands, Lewis began working on his one-man-band identity.
“I tried everything to get [something] started with people, but no one would really give me the time of day. I would message everyone to play music with me but we would never meet.”
The artist admits he had hopes back then for the rock star life — champagne, hot babes and endless parties. On the outside, he was the big and jolly Steven Lewis and the Big Band of One. On the inside, however, he had become the Big Band of Numb: an addict.
Every day was a blur fueled by substance. Then his father died, throwing everything off the table.
Lewis was dangerously overweight and by that time had to be weighed on a cattle scale used for dead cows. At 432 pounds, the depression was all consuming.
“I was a terrible addict and knew that I was going to die too. I had a thought of going into my dad’s workshop and loading up a gun. I just didn’t want to feel anything anymore.”
The claws of dependence dug deep. Lewis felt like he had nothing left to hold onto besides his addictions. He stopped caring about himself and those around him, falling even harder into drugs and booze.
•••
Jonas Colter, a close friend of Lewis, owns Nirvana, a vegan health-food bistro/yoga studio in Fredericton that serves up almost every edible color of the rainbow with desserts, smoothies and savory stuff. Although now closed down, it was a big part of Lewis’s recovery.
“People love to make it all about me but its not like that at all. It’s a support system,” he says. “I found acceptance in everything I was giving up.”
Colter made a deal with him: eat at least one meal a day at Nirvana for 90 consecutive days for free. No drinking, no drugs. Just good food.
Lewis didn’t necessarily go in to eat every day, but the Nirvana challenge was framing Lewis’s new and improved lifestyle. Colter would show up randomly on his doorstep, sometimes with healthy snacks but mostly just to hang out and support him.
His holistic approach to food inspired Lewis, who started slamming back fresh juice and green smoothies. He Facebooked the challenge, voicing his commitment towards getting healthy. Since then he’s lost over 150 pounds, with energy levels so high he doesn’t know what to do with himself. What began as a small support group of caring friends has since turned into an all out wellness campaign.
The artist has been featured on CBC, his story shared nationally. People from all across the country have and are still reaching out to the artist, with encouragement constantly pouring in.
•••
Lewis has a lot lined up in the coming year, including an album release. He also wants to offer young kids in his community the same opportunities he was blessed with, and is planning music workshops for schools in the area.
He’s dropping the solo act – something he says helps keep his ego in check. He’s also going back to school for social work. Lewis says it’s paramount that every one of his friends remembers where he came from, and where he is now.
He’s staying healthy and sober not just for himself, but for everyone that supports him.
“I get higher than I’ve ever been to get on stage and just be in that moment [sober]. I’ve started to take it serious and try something different than just let’s party and dance to it. It’s something that people can get behind. All my dreams are coming true.”
