B-Side Guys

Death leaves empty chairs at the table, but survivors have to keep eating. Toronto-based artist CJ Wiley transforms this brutal truth into “Don’t Die Charlie,” a gutting exploration of addiction, loss, and the complicated privilege of outliving your friends.

The track showcases Wiley’s gift for genre fusion, blending slacker rock’s loose-limbed energy with Americana’s storytelling depth. Producer Boy Golden and Grammy Award-winning engineer Mark Lawrence create space for both intensity and nuance, allowing Wiley’s voice—carrying what they describe as “both the tremor of grief and the fierce joy of being alive”—to guide listeners through landscapes of memory and mourning.

This balancing act between despair and celebration feels particularly potent coming from an artist who’s made space-creation their mission. As founder of Big Gay Night Toronto, Wiley understands the life-saving power of community. This perspective infuses their approach to difficult subject matter, transforming what could be purely personal tragedy into something more universal and ultimately hopeful.

The production mirrors this duality, with “twirling guitars” and “crunchy bass” providing muscular foundation for more vulnerable sonic elements. Where many artists might lean into either raw confession or polished distance, Wiley finds power in the intersection, creating something that feels both carefully crafted and emotionally immediate.

“It holds vivid memories,” Wiley explains, “taking me back to high school when everything felt so chaotic, though I didn’t fully realize how dark things really were at the time.” This tension between past perspective and present understanding runs throughout the track, suggesting that survival itself is a form of translation—learning to read the warning signs in retrospect while honoring those who couldn’t make it through the lesson.

As the final single before their debut album ‘So Brand New’ (due February 28th), “Don’t Die Charlie” suggests Wiley has found a distinctive voice at the crossroads of personal and political, intimate and universal. It’s a eulogy that refuses to accept death as the final word, choosing instead to transform grief into fuel for forward motion.