Pagan Honey Productions Video Collection | Pagan Honey Productions

Music Videos

Official videos and visual projects from Pagan Honey Productions.

Monkey is a goofy, high-energy burst built for movement, noise, and not taking yourself too seriously. It leans into the ridiculous side of being human—bodies in motion, instincts kicking in, and the kind of crowd energy that builds until nobody’s standing still.

The chant drives everything forward, teasing the drop and pushing tension right to the edge before letting it snap loose. This is festival energy at full tilt—head nods, sudden grins, and that split-second pause before the sound crashes back in and the room erupts.

Summer of ’92 tells the story of a season that began with laughter and promise and ended in silence that never fully faded. Set against campfires, mountain air, and the steady pull of river water, the video reflects on a memory shaped by friendship, youth, and the sudden understanding of how fragile life can be. This song is drawn from personal experience and reflects a moment that left a lasting mark on my life.

This piece moves with quiet weight, focusing on remembrance rather than spectacle. It holds onto the small details—shared moments, familiar places, and the echoes left behind when someone is gone too soon. More than anything, it’s about how certain summers never really end, because the people tied to them remain part of the landscape long after the years move on.

For Those Who Can’t Say Thanks is a tribute to the quiet professionals who step in when animals can’t speak for themselves. The video reflects the steady hands, long hours, and calm presence that make the difference when fear and uncertainty take hold. It focuses on the everyday reality behind veterinary care—patience, skill, and compassion working side by side when it matters most.

This piece was inspired by a personal experience after my dog, Grizzly, went into diabetic ketoacidosis and nearly didn’t make it. Thanks to the team at the University of Saskatchewan’s Veterinary Medical Centre, he pulled through and came home again. This video stands as a simple thank-you to the people who show up when animals—and the people who love them—need help the most.

Slivovitz brings an old prairie story back to life—one passed along through laughter, memory, and a sharp sense of humor. Set around farm life, homemade plum brandy, and the kind of mischief that becomes legend over time, the video leans into the playful side of rural storytelling. It captures the feeling of tall tales shared across kitchen tables, where truth and exaggeration mix just enough to keep everyone smiling.

This song was inspired by a story told to me by a resident in a care home, who shared it with a laugh and a sparkle in her eye. She has since passed, but the humor and warmth of her story stayed with me. This piece stands as a small way of keeping that laughter alive and letting her story travel a little farther than it otherwise might have.

Saskatchewan Blood is a statement of identity—rough-edged, loud, and rooted in the kind of life shaped by cold winters, long drives, and hard work. The video leans into prairie attitude and working-class grit, built around the rhythm of rigs, back roads, and the stubborn pride that comes from living where the weather doesn’t give second chances.

This was one of the first videos I made, and it shows where everything started. It’s a bit rough around the edges, but that’s part of its character—built without polish, just momentum and a willingness to begin. Every project that followed traces back to this moment, when the first step was taken and the direction became clear.