tl;dr
Nils is a BC boy raised in the states, studied music and computers. Always a student of so much more.

What's this guy all about even?

Born in Creston, dad's from Nelson, don't know how he ever left. However, mom's a prairie girl, and she's a pretty good reason to leave the hometown. I vaguely remember Saskatoon, by the time kindergarten rolled around I found myself in Minneasota, where the family was contracted to stay for 2 years, but destined to stay for 17.

We were always 'the Canadians', also, dad's a pastor, which is rad if you are into wisdom, but I was a bit too cool for that back then. After k-12 grades at a school surrounded by corn, I was ready to leave, to return to the mothercounty. I moved to Winnipeg to study music at the University.

Of course, I was then known as 'the American'. Ironic indeed. I needed to learn Canadian customs, and quick - which province do you make fun of? How many sorry's are enough? Do these people ever get tired of Timmy's?

I studied booze and women at the university, but I took music as a fallback. This saved my academic career, as it was  Mennonite University, and there were actually no role models whatsoever in the booze and women department.

Hey, what's a Mennonite's biggest dilema? ... Free dance lessons.

So I got outta Winnipeg after a few winters, some classmates had impressed me with their bravado stories of treeplanting in BC. I took my first plane ride and woke up at the foot of Hudson Mtn, in Smithers BC. Well, technically the taxi dropped me off at the SaveOn Foods, which did have a pretty glorious view of the mountain. I wandered inside as I waited to meet my first treeplanting crew and saw on the walls a historic display of the first car to ever reach Smithers. It was 1927, the car had one gear, one powered wheel, and no reverse. It took a team of 10 men and their horses to get the car this far north. You see, there were trade routes, some wide enough to drive on, some fording rivers, so of course, when the car could go no farther, they simply dismembered it, packed it onto horses, forded the river, then re-membered the car and kept on driving. 1927, when men were men, and highways were... well they weren't.

I cut my teeth around the camp fire, playing guitar and cello when the guys threw beer cans and screamed 'Dance Monkey' in my general direction. Music school... what a strange thought when you were out in the bush, how could any of that knowledge help me keep these buds entertained.

Kelowna. 2014. After booking shows at a cafe in Winnipeg and meeting a Kelowna based one-man band I moved out west to join him. We were "Windborn", touring across BC and AB for months at a time. By then I had learned cello, brought it out to the treeplanting campfires as a novelty and a personal challenge. And thus I found myself in a niche market - a folk cellist. Best and only for miles around.

After nomading for too long, treeplanting then touring then planting then touring until I didn't even have a home to go back to, I knew I need to plant some roots. "A rolling stone bears no fruit" as the 'gathers no moss' saying used to mean.

Kelowna, the land of wine and sun. Small town in the winter, decent sized town in the summer. Central, enough money for musicians to be hired. No mosquitoes. Perfect.

After a few years of payin' the bills through music, but no longer wanting to tour, I went back to school at Okanagan College for a diploma in Computer Science. I took a warm up course on Formal Logic at UBCO to learn Bool's philosophical underpinnings of how a computer thinks. I set my sights on landing in interesting day career as soon as possible. Found a company who would hire rookies and spent so much time trying to land the interview that I failed a course --- and got the job.

Coder by day, musician by night. Excited to chase two rabbits, because these ones are actually complementary. (Thank God!)